#okay and the way i made that shelf from scratch... give me my tens

[simphic]

The way I'm just up randomly shit posting but the way I wanna redo Yas' apartment...literally I'm still in the makings of making it??? But I want to go for a more darker maximalism vibe. I really love the vibe of their apartment now like it's so somewhat 70s esque but with a modern twist. I tried to capture a chicago "loft" in the art district..thank you candy man. So honestly I may just go with the vibe in my head for Luna's house since she's NYC bound and Yas resides in Chicago...thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [four] // wanda maximoff

summary: Things finally explode between you and Nate, and Pietro decides to get to the bottom of whatever is going on between you and Wanda, though in usual Pietro fashion AKA not subtly at all

warning/s: none.

author's note: this is very beefy, i must admit, but i think you'll all enjoy the outcome 😂💘

part one | part two | part three | part five | masterlist | wattpad

Dinner with the Maximoffs wasn't as strange as I envisioned. Her parents were sweet and the twins did their best to make me feel comfortable. Wanda still seemed mildly frustrated whenever Pietro and I would talk though, and I figured she may have thought I was lying when I told her I didn't like him like that. I hoped that wasn't the case.

After dinner, Wanda took me upstairs to show me her bedroom. I'm not sure how to describe it other than it seemed so Wanda.

"I'm guessing red is your favourite colour," I said when I saw the hints of scarlet in her bedroom. On her walls, in her bedding, on her pillows. Just like her car and her jacket, they were all bright and very her.

"Great observation, Sherlock," she teased with a sly smile.

I returned the smile, sticking my tongue out at her playfully, before having a walk around and coming across her massive CD collection and CD player. Her music taste was actually quite similar to mine, which I definitely didn't expect. It just made her ten times more attractive to me which wasn't good, but oh well. I was here for a good time, not a long time. And my crush on Wanda Maximoff would surely be the death of me.

"D'you have any CDs at all?" she asked, joining my side when she noticed me staring at the shelf.

I crossed my arms, glancing at her. "Don't get me wrong. I'd love to collect them, but it's just so much easier to have Spotify, y'know?"

My intention wasn't to make her laugh, but God I was glad I did when her eyes crinkled and the sound rang around the room, making my heart pinch with adoration.

After giving me some of her pyjamas, the two of us got ready and brushed our teeth before I realised she wanted me to share bed with her.

"You wanna watch some TV before bed?" she asked, clearly not registering my hesitance to slide into her Queen-sized bed.

I swallowed hard. "S-sure."

She turned on the TV at the end of her bed as I slipped in beside her, still a bit rigid as I kept a fair distance from her.

"What you feeling? Comedy? Drama? Horror?"

"Anything is fine with me," I said, still tense.

She hummed in acknowledgement before leaning down on her pile of pillows behind her, edging closer to me. My heart was hammering in my chest as her hair tickled my arm from where she was laying.

"You comfortable?" she checked in, leaning backwards so her head was upside down to see me. "I have more pillows if you need them."

I offered her a small smile, hoping it disguised my nerves. "I'm good."

She nodded before flicking through the channels and eventually settling on reruns of The Office. It took time, but I eventually overcame my initial shock of sharing bed with the girl I had a major crush on and instead relaxed, getting comfortable under the covers.

After watching some TV, we called it a night and fell asleep quite quickly, the day taking its toll on us. For once, I wasn't panicking about doing something stupid. I simply fell asleep, trying to ignore the heat she emanated from beside me.

It was a peaceful night – her bed was super comfortable – and I woke up to the sound of Wanda moving about in her bedroom.

"Shoot, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked when she saw me moving about under the blankets. I tried to blink away the sleep as she continued, "I was gonna wake you soon. School starts in an hour."

I rubbed my eyes, yawning, before sitting up and seeing she was practically already dressed. That meant she would have been up for a while, meaning she would have seen me fast asleep. God, I hated when people saw me sleeping. It always felt so weird.

"It's okay," I got out tiredly, before running a hand through my hair.

"You sleep well?" she asked, spinning around in her chair, her makeup half done. "I tried my very best not to use you as a teddy bear."

She was joking, but I felt my neck grow warm at the thought and damn, it was just way too early to be flustered.

"Yeah, I slept great," I settled, feeling her gaze on me. "Thanks again for having me over."

"Anytime," she said, and something told me it wasn't just a friendly response but that she actually meant it. Maybe it was the kind smile on her lips as she said so. "Just like last night, if you wanna use anything in the bathroom, go for it."

I gave her a thumbs up, taking a moment to wake myself up a little more, before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I returned to Wanda's room, I saw she'd already made the bed and had laid my clothes on top of it.

"I've got a shirt you can borrow," she said when I grabbed my jeans.

"Oh, I can just wear the same thing again, it's no biggie," I told her, already grabbing my shirt.

She pouted before grabbing a shirt from her closet. "Just hold on. You'll love it."

In no time, she came out from her closet and held out a Paramore tee shirt on a hanger towards me.

"I got it from the last concert I went to," she explained. "I thought you'd like it."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Wow, Wanda. Really? You don't mind?"

She nodded, shaking the shirt as emphasis for me to take it. I did, having a look over it and smiling to myself.

"I'll wash it and give it back to you tomorrow," I promised, taking it off the hanger and holding it with my jeans. "Thanks."

"You can keep it," she said, scratching the back of her head apprehensively. "I've got loads."

"Oh, no, I can't do that," I began to deny, but she shook her head.

"It's fine, I'm giving it to you," she said, before smiling sweetly. "I'm sure you'll look better in it anyway."

Again with the warmth spreading up my neck...

"I doubt that," I quipped with a small smile.

"Go! Go get changed," she said, already pushing me towards the door. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

I snickered, letting her shove me into the hallway, before heading into the bathroom to get ready. The shirt was oversized, so there was no need to be worried it wouldn't fit. It was actually really nice, plus I liked it that extra bit more knowing Wanda gave it to me. Though I knew I wouldn't keep it. It was hers and she was just being nice.

When I finished making myself look presentable, I headed downstairs and found the twins at the kitchen counter, chatting between themselves. Their chatter ceased when I walked in, with Wanda biting her lip and looking me up and down with satisfaction.

"I was right," was all she said, making me nervous. "You do look better in it than me."

—

The day after that, I did as I said I would and returned Wanda's shirt to her, washed, folded and ironed. Knowing she wouldn't accept it without a fight, I left it in her bag when she wasn't looking during class.

I should have expected her to approach me at my locker afterwards.

"It was supposed to be a gift," she said, and I saw her pretty face reflected in the mirror hung inside my locker.

I turned around, already knowing what she was talking about.

"I told you I couldn't accept," I said politely, giving her a small smile. "I appreciate it though." She seemed disappointed which obviously didn't help with my feelings for her, so I took a leap and added, "Maybe I can get my own at their next concert. In the summer, right?"

She picked up on what I meant and smiled, stifling a laugh. Running a hand through her hair, she met my gaze and I found myself frozen in place as always, unable to look away. I wondered if she knew what she was doing when she did that, knew that she was giving me heart palpitations every time her lips turned into a playful smirk and dark eyes studied me curiously.

My eyes drifted to her lips subconsciously and she must have put on some lip balm or something, prior to finding me just now, as they looked shiny and pink and just so damn kissable. Nate was one lucky guy.

—

Having faced issues with Nate three times now (AKA the three times he happened to launch a football at my head), I'd figured I wouldn't be seeing the last of him. He was a dick, meaning he had a natural inclination to piss people off, particularly me. But I never thought he'd go for Y/BF/N.

We were chilling by our lockers, chatting about his film project, when his books suddenly got knocked out of his hands and he was shoved against the lockers. I straightened up when I saw it was Nate, looking pissed off as he had Y/BF/N's shirt bundled in his fist.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted, trying to shove him off, but he merely pushed me back.

"This isn't your business," he said to me before glaring at Y/BF/N, who was quiet with panic. "You. You've been hanging around my girlfriend and I don't like it."

The colour drained from Y/BF/N's face as Nate slammed his hand to the lockers beside his head, startling him.

"I want you to stay the fuck away from Wanda!" he ordered, and students were starting to pick up on the fight that was clearly about to break out. "You fucking hear me, you nerd? Stay the fuck away!"

Poor Y/BF/N nodded his head, eyes avoiding Nate's. Meanwhile, I was angrier than Nate probably was. Y/BF/N had done nothing wrong. Maybe Nate had just seen Wanda hanging with me and because Y/BF/N was always with me, assumed the worst. Either way, this was no way to handle the situation and I was not gonna let this dick threaten my friend.

"Get the fuck away from him, Nate," I said through gritted teeth, glaring a hole into the side of his head.

Nate barely glanced my way. "I told you this isn't your business, honey."

"Five seconds," I said, standing behind him as a crowd began to form. "You've got five seconds or I'm gonna kick you."

He seemed to ignore me as he tightened his grip on Y/BF/N's shirt, only pissing me off more.

"Five," I began to count down, the grip on my books tightening with nerves and anger. "Four."

He still didn't look my way, just kept slapping Y/BF/N's face to scare him.

"Three, two, one," I said quickly, tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Without waiting anymore, I kicked him between the legs with full force, watching as he instantly let go of Y/BF/N and doubled over. Everybody began to laugh, some making 'ooh' noises, but the consensus was clear – it definitely sucked to be Nate right now.

I tried not to laugh as I watched his face scrunch with pain, turning red. I was starting to appreciate my choice of wearing my doc marten boots today.

"No more balls for the guy who keeps throwing them at my fucking head," I got out, jaw clenching.

He looked up, his face crossing with realisation as he recognised me. In response, he glared in my direction, but it didn't faze me.

"Come on, Y/BF/N," I said, looking to my startled friend. "Let's go."

"What on Earth is going on over here?!" a teacher's voice rang out in the distance, and I groaned internally.

When I turned to leave, I heard Nate from behind me, grunting with dissatisfaction.

"Fuckin' dyke," he mumbled under his breath, and I paused, clenching my fists.

"Y/N, don't–" Y/BF/N tried to stop me, but I was too pissed to care.

I spun around and punched Nate square in the face, feeling good as his smirking face scrunched in pain and his back hit the lockers from the impact.

"Woah!" a teacher came out of nowhere, shoving herself between us and pushing me away from him. "What the hell is going on here?!"

I shook my hand to ease the pain on my knuckles, though the pain couldn't stop the grin on my lips as Nate raised his hands to his face, holding his busted nose. Students were going crazy, egged on by the potential fight, and for once, I didn't mind the attention. Nate had that coming for a while now.

"Everybody back to class! Now!" the teacher yelled, glaring all around her, before her eyes settled on Nate and I. "You two. Nurse's office now."

Nate glared at me behind his bloody nose and, once again, I tried not to laugh. Y/BF/N patted my back, amazement written on his face, before letting me leave with the teacher and an unusually silent Nate.

—

Kicking Nate in the groin and punching him in the face wasn't something I did to get attention, yet that's exactly what happened. Word of the incident spread around the school quite quickly, so much in fact that even students from other grades became aware of the situation and were approaching me to tell me how awesome I was. The whole thing was definitely strange, but I could tolerate it.

What I couldn't tolerate was having Chemistry after lunch and wondering if Wanda knew.

Would she hate me for punching her boyfriend? I wasn't sure. I just knew that when she walked into class and sat next to me, I felt everyone's eyes subtly watching us as if waiting for her to explode at me.

I'd been given an ice pack for my bruised hand after my visit to the nurse's office earlier whilst Nate had been treated for his broken nose (the fact that I'd broken it was hilarious to me, since I knew I wasn't even that strong). The principal had a very angry yell at us both in his office, neither of us willing to reveal the premise of our fight, before giving us detention every day after school for two weeks straight as punishment. Of course, Nate got his two weeks at a different time to mine for fear I'd punch him again (he definitely didn't like that, but he couldn't exactly say that to to principal).

I didn't bother using the ice pack in Chemistry for fear Wanda may ask what was up. I successfully managed to hide my hand and as a second surprise of the day, Wanda mentioned nothing about the incident. Not one thing about her boyfriend, about Y/BF/N, about any of it. I thought she might hint at it, trying to get me to bring it up. But she didn't which made me think she actually had no idea it even happened. Had anyone told her? Had he told her? Nah, probably not. His fragile masculinity probably caused him to change the story to something else so he didn't look like a wimp in front of his girlfriend.

Whatever it was, I was safe for now.

Thinking I'd got away with a confrontation from Wanda, I went about the rest of my day as usual. Well, that was until I was replacing some books in my locker at the end of the day and saw Wanda at her locker behind me, arguing with– yep, you guessed it. Nate.

Y/BF/N was collecting some books from his own locker beside me and we both exchanged looks as we saw the two lovebirds in a heated argument. Just when we were about to leave, someone cleared their throat from behind us, making us turn around.

Wanda was stood there, backpack hanging from her shoulder, beside Nate, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Hi," he started quietly, making Wanda clear her throat. He glanced at her before looking to Y/BF/N. "Look, man, I'm really sorry about earlier. I was wrong about what I said. We cool?"

I tried not to laugh at the way Nate was being forced to apologise by his girlfriend. Y/BF/N glanced to me with questioning eyes, so I simply shrugged.

"I guess...," he finally answered Nate, still a little awkward.

Nate nodded before looking to me. He still had his reservations, judging from the twitch in his expression, but for Wanda's sake, he kept his cool.

"I'm sorry for treating you badly," he said reluctantly. "With the football and just generally."

God, it was so hard not to laugh in his face right now. His nose had gauze taped to it and it made him look like an idiot. I fake coughed to disguise my smile, before meeting his gaze.

"It's, er, cool," I said, not in the mood to be an arsehole to him, even though he deserved it. I'd punched him – I think we were equal for now.

He nodded, before staying quiet. Glancing to Wanda, he waited for her to say something. She rolled her eyes and nodded for him to leave. When he was gone, she sighed tiredly.

"I only heard about what happened after Chem class," she said, mainly to me, a guilty expression on her lips. "I'm so sorry he acted like a jerk."

I chewed my lip, unsure what to say.

"It's okay, Y/N here took care of it," Y/BF/N said, smiling with amusement at me. Okay, well now she definitely knew.

"Yeah, sorry you felt you had to do that," she said with a grimace. "I guess he deserved it though."

"Kind of," I agreed, before noticing the regretful frown on her lips. "He apologised though. It's already happened. I kinda broke his nose... No point in dwelling on it."

She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah..." Her eyes fell to my bruised hand before lifting it gently. I winced at the ache, but let her hold it, studying the purple bruise painted across my knuckles. "That looks bad."

It felt good punching him though, but I wasn't about to say that since it was her boyfriend I was talking about.

"It's alright," I said dismissively, shrugging. "Nate kind of got it worse. I'll live."

The pad of her thumb stroked the bruise gently and I held my breath, the feeling of her hands holding mine sending shivers up my arm. Her eyes flickered to mine, softened with guilt, before she let go of my hand.

"I should head home," she said after a pause. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Y/BF/N said for both of us, sensing my loss of words.

Wanda held my gaze once more, eyes half lidded as they glanced down. Before I could even question what she was looking at, she waved goodbye and left.

"She's either starting to realise what a dick her boyfriend is or she's just really into you," Y/BF/N said, patting me on the back. "Maybe both, who knows?"

—

"You definitely cheated," I told Y/BF/N once we finished yet another round of air hockey. "Nobody wins six times in a row like that!"

He laughed at my expression. "Tell me, dear Y/N. How would I cheat? The concept of the game is simple, really. It's not my fault you're terrible."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Seventh time's the charm. C'mon."

He chuckled, about to put more money in the machine, before his eyes got distracted by something behind me. "Well, would you look at that. The Maximoff twins are here."

"Very funny," I said with a knowing look. "You can't throw me off like that. We've established I'm already terrible. Now c'mon. Let's go!"

"I wish I was joking," he said, shaking his head.

I scoffed, not believing him, and turned around to prove him wrong, but I was surprised when I saw Wanda and Pietro walking into the arcade we were in. They seemed to spot us instantly, waving in our direction before approaching us.

"Fancy seeing you here," Pietro teased with a smile as they stopped before us.

I cracked a smile as Y/BF/N joined my side. "We're hanging out. And you?"

Wrapping an arm around his sister's shoulder, he tugged Wanda close to him. "Sibling bonding time."

Wanda rolled her eyes at his childishness, but I could tell she found it endearing all the same.

"Well, if you want, you can hang with us," Y/BF/N offered, and we all looked to him, myself raising a brow his way. He seemed to sense my reluctance, it egging him on as he grinned at them. "Y/N doesn't mind. Do you, Y/N?"

I swallowed hard as I looked between the twins. "'Course not."

And that's how I found myself playing arcade games with the Maximoff twins that Saturday afternoon. It was actually pretty fun, with Pietro being as competitive as I was and Wanda being the sweetest loser with everything she played. It was so adorable, but I ended up letting her win some games of skee-ball just so I could see that cute nose scrunch of hers as she realised she'd won.

"You gonna let me win like that, too?" Pietro caught on as he took his sister's place in playing against me. He had a mischievous grin on his lips and I felt my mouth go dry at what he was implying.

"You wish," I said, playing it cool, though I wondered if he cared that I clearly let Wanda win. He wouldn't read into it, right?

Pietro took his go as he spoke. "So, I heard what happened with you and Nate at school last week."

I closed my eyes, cringing at the reminder. Pietro merely laughed.

"You kicked him super hard, right?" he asked excitedly. "I heard his face went so red with anger that you could fry an egg on it! And don't forget that punch, goddamn what I would pay to have seen that!"

"Pietro!" Wanda scolded from behind us as her and Y/BF/N played air hockey. "Don't be a tool!"

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment as Pietro continued to laugh. Y/BF/N joined in whilst Wanda tried to hide the smile dancing on her lips.

"You're not even together anymore," Pietro called to Wanda between laughter. Wait, did I hear that right?

"You and Nate broke up?" Y/BF/N asked with disbelief. "Our grade's 'it' couple broke up?"

Wanda ran a hand through her hair to distract from her flittering eyes. "He treated you horribly last week. Both of you." She glanced my way before looking at her shoes. "He was a jerk. It was long overdue... Also, I would have broken up with him there and then had I known what he'd said to you. I'm sorry he said what he did."

She stared at me with apologetic eyes and I wasn't sure what to say or do other than nod awkwardly and look away. The fact that she'd broken up with him put a smile on my face though.

"I just think it's awesome," Pietro admitted, before saluting playfully to me. "Thank you for your service. I knew you were awesome, but this is a whole new level."

I sighed, attempting to hide my smile, before straightening up to play. Pietro and I played some skee-ball before I decided to have a go at the claw machine. Wanda was at the one beside me, attempting to win herself a fluffy black cat plush toy. She'd had three goes before giving up, admitting to defeat.

"Typical Wanda," Pietro teased. "Giving up when the going gets tough."

She punched him in the arm, making him jump and rub it. That elicited a smile from her, making me laugh at their immaturity.

"How about Wanda and I go and get a table in the diner next door whilst you finish up winning whatever it is you're trying to win?" Y/BF/N asked, looking to me, as if assigning blame.

"I already told you, I'm not leaving this machine until I win at least one thing," I stated stubbornly.

"The amount of money you've put into the machine won't make up for whatever you win," Y/BF/N teased with amusement.

"Just go," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I'll be there soon."

"I'll wait with her," Pietro said, resting a hand on my shoulder, making me shrug him off jokingly. "See you soon," he added with a laugh, to his sister and Y/BF/N.

When they left, I looked to Pietro with an amused smile. "I don't need you to look after me, y'know."

He shrugged and looked through the glass of the claw machine. "I know. But I stayed to give you some advice, princess."

"Oh, really? And what advice is that?" I asked, before putting some coins in the machine to have another go.

"People usually tend to win these things for people they like, right?" he asked, nodding to the plush toys in the machine.

"Or for themselves," I corrected with a curious smile. "Take Wanda for example. How badly did she want that cat?"

He crossed his arms, smiling with amusement. "You could win it for her, y'know."

"What?" I asked, half paying attention as I attempted to grab a teddy bear.

"Win the cat for my sister and give it to her?"

I ended up dropping the teddy from the claw as I looked to Pietro with shock. He laughed at my expression, leaning against the machine.

"You do like her, right? Otherwise this is awkward," he added as an afterthought, looking down and smiling to himself.

My jaw hung open. "I– er– I never really– I don't–"

"She must definitely like you," Pietro noted, glancing at me.

I licked my lips as I found my words. "Did she," I cleared my throat, "did she say something?"

"Well, no," he said, "but she looks like she wants to murder me every time I hang out with you."

"That's just a coincidence," I said, shaking my head and looking back to the machine. "She's not–" I thought about, before shaking my head again. "No."

I appreciated Pietro's help, but Wanda definitely didn't like me like that. She was just protective of her brother and friendly to me. It didn't mean anything.

"Look, you don't have to listen to me," he said, straightening up and looking at the machine as I slotted another coin in. "But you could give it a shot. See what happens."

I glanced at him, his blue eyes watching me knowingly, a matching smirk on his lips.

"Fine," I gave in, hoping it wouldn't backfire. "Let's see what happens..."

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 4

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 2877

Additional note: This is the final chapter. There'll be an epilogue, but you'll have to wait a bit because there are a lot of challenges I've signed up for and I'm way behind schedule.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

Devastated and angry at the world. That's how Ivar is feeling.

Holed up in his room since the night before, and despite Lagertha incessant requests, he doesn’t plan to come out, not now at least. Come to think of it, he might as well decide never to leave his room again.

He can't stand the idea of facing his brothers. He doesn't want to have to tell them about his failure. He doesn't want to endure Ubbe's pity and condescendence. He doesn't want to see the look of triumph on Sigurd's face. The thought makes his stomach lurch while at the same time a murderous urge creeps into his mind. No, he definitely can't see his brothers.

Surprisingly, and unlike Lagertha, his brothers have left him alone, as if sensing that entering his room would be as moving into a minefield. Only Hvitserk had taken a chance earlier, cautiously poking his head through the door. His disapproving look obvious when his eyes had taken in the scene before him, Ivar's belongings scattered on the floor, some of them smashed into pieces.

"I got you a chocolate muffin from the kitchen, baby bro," he had explained, putting it on a nearby shelf, and it had almost brought a smile to Ivar's face. To Hvitserk, there's no predicament that can't be improved with comfort food.

"Look, Ivar," scratching his neck, Hvitserk had then said, "I don't know what happened and I don't want to pressure you. You tell me when you're ready, if you are. But I'm here, okay? Whatever the time of day or night, you don't have to be alone if you don't want to. If I'm upstairs, just call me, okay?" With these words, he was gone, the door closed.

Ivar can't get the events of the previous evening out of his mind. Like a waking nightmare, they are playing over and over in his head: how he had freaked out when he heard the beeps; the confused and then so disappointed look you had given him when he sputtered his need to leave; finally, his shameful escape into the night.

What could he have done? What should he have done?

He does know the answer. He should have been more cautious. He should have checked the time, asked for your number and just walked away.

On the other hand, what difference would it have made? He would still have no future with you, right? He would still be a cripple, and you would still be... you... perfect... too good for him.

So yeah, he had run away like a coward. He lets out a bitter chuckle to himself. Run away? Who is he kidding? He hadn't run away, that would have been too easy. Cripples don't run away. Without his cane – why the fuck did he leave it behind?? – he had pathetically limped away, stumbling, his feet sinking into the sand. He had still been on the beach when the battery had died. He had had no other choice but to crawl like a worm the rest of the way, silently praying to the gods that the darkness of the night would prevent you from seeing him like this.

Tears of despair run down his cheeks for the umpteenth time. He's used to feeling humiliated, but feeling humiliated and heartbroken simultaneously is really too much to take. He feels like he's dying from the inside over and over again, cursing himself for wanting to attend the party, for wanting to see you again. He should never have let his walls down, he should never have dared to hope. What was he thinking? He may have walked, and even danced with you, but at the end of the day, he still is a pitiable cripple with stupid, crooked legs, in love with a girl way out of his league.

If he's being honest, that's what hurts the most. He now realizes how delusional he had been. Holding on to a dead dream for years, he had not forseen the painful yet unavoidable reality check. And now, it's like he's been hit by a train. Because there's no denying it, dreaming of a life with you is no longer an option, not after last night. And even though it's almost unbearable, he knows now he has to let go of you, of the idea of you and him being together. As much as this mere thought is devastating, he has no other choice. He has to stop fooling himself, for his own sanity, if nothing else.

Giving a guttural cry, much like that of a wounded animal, Ivar doesn't hear when the front doorbell rings. Not that he would have reacted even if he had heard it, too busy wallowing in self-pity.

***

"Thank you for having us here on such short notice, my dear." Your uncle states joyfully, his eyes sparkling, as Lagertha greets him with a handshake and a tight-lipped smile. Even though you don't know why, it's obvious that she's not his biggest fan.

Your uncle, who doesn't seem to notice – or doesn't care, you're not sure – keeps giving her a beaming smile. "My niece here," he turns his head toward you for a short moment, "has a weird request. She met a boy yesterday, during the party. He lost something and my sweet Y/N has been adamant since this morning that she wants to find him and personally return it to him. We were wondering," he turns his gaze in the direction of the couch, "if it could be one of your wards."

There are indeed three young men, half sprawled on the couch, who get up as one when Lagertha gives them a stern look. If you vaguely remember having seen them before, a single glance is enough for you to know that the one you're looking for is not among them.

You're on the verge of saying so but your uncle doesn't give you a chance to. "See boys," he unceremoniously grabs the cane you're holding behind your back, "here is the lost item. A cane! Fairly uncommon, if you ask me. Anyway... Does this... thing belong to any of you?"

Since you know it doesn't, you're surprised when two of the guys both take a step forward. "Actually, it's mine," they say in unison, each of them only then becoming aware that the other is speaking.

Dumbstruck, you look at one then the other successively. They've got a lot of nerve! You know they're lying, and you would have known it even if these two idiots hadn't spoken at the same time. They just look nothing like your handsome stranger – if he's a stranger.

"Sigurd, you know it's mine!"

"Don't play dumb, you never use a cane, Ubbe! Whereas me, I do sometimes. Everyone knows artists tend to be eccentric, right?"

The blondest one – Sigurd if you heard right – points his finger at a guitar leaning against the wall and then winks at you, "I'm a musician, you know?" You don't even have time to roll your eyes as the other one – Ubbe? – yells, his nostrils flaring.

"Shut up Sig, you're so full of shit! You know I've got a sprained ankle!"

"A sprained ankle, no kidding? Who did a ten-kilometer run today, huh? It's not me! So, you are the one going to shut up, you fucking douchebag!"

It's almost funny to watch them arguing back and forth. If you weren't so pissed off, you'd laugh. But right now, you're mostly mad at them. Their blatant lies make your blood boil with anger.

Are they really thinking you're a complete idiot? That you can be fooled so easily? Who do they think they are? Who do they think you are? Some stupid chick ready to fall for their good looks? If they think that, they're kidding themselves.

"You're the fucking douchebag, Sig!! Don’t forget I'm the oldest!"

"And what's the difference, huh? You can't have all the girls, Ubbe! Keep fucking Margrethe and just let me be! Stop being a controlling asshole!"

"STOP!!!! BOTH OF YOU!!!"

Lagertha's shout is deafening and if looks could kill, these two morons would be lying dead on the floor right here, right now.

"Y/N, my dear," Lagertha gives you an apologetic smile, "I'm so sorry for that. I swear they usually know how to behave, better than that at least. Guess they don't know how to handle your striking beauty. Now sweetheart, tell me, is one of these two knuckleheads the one you were with last night?"

The silence that falls on the room after her question is so complete that you could hear a pin drop. Acutely aware that all eyes are on you, you shyly lower your gaze, shaking your head slightly, as you clasp your hands over your belly. You eventually speak, your eyes meeting Lagertha's, and you can see she knows what you're going to say. "No, the guy I was with last night is not one of them."

"How can you be so sure?" Sigurd's voice is soft and tentative now, and Ubbe adds, seemingly for once in agreement with his younger brother, "yeah, how can you? It was pretty dark after all."

You give them a smile. "How can I be so sure? You mean beside the fact that you obviously don't need a cane? Neither of you?" The third brother, who still hasn't opened his mouth, chuckles, giving you a thumbs up. "Look, I appreciate your interest, I really do, but neither of you are the one I am looking for. Therefore," you look at your uncle, "we should leave, don't you think?" Checking the time on your watch, you shrug. "What about the Eyvindsson family? Didn't you tell me about three brothers? We may have time to go and see them tonight if we hurry."

Your uncle nods, handing you back the cane. "You're right, Y/N, we should leave." Taking two steps forward, he grabs Lagertha's hand. "Sorry dear, we will waste no more of your time."

You're about to thank her when one of the boys clears his throat. "Ahem..."

Turning your head, you're surprised to see the third brother, the silent one, raising his hand. "I think I might know who this cane belongs to." Frowning, he glances at his brothers. "And you both know it too."

"Shut up, Hvitserk!" Sigurd spits, clenching his hands into fists. "Don't bring the fucking cripple into the conversation."

"Sigurd! Keep your mouth shut!" Lagertha glares at him for several long seconds then her face softens as she looks at Hvitserk, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What are you trying to say, Hvitserk? Do you think this cane belongs to your baby brother?"

Hvitserk nods. "I know it does, actually."

"Come on, Hvit, you're talking nonsense. It cannot be, it just cannot. That guy was standing. It wasn't our brother. Our brother wasn't there last night." Ubbe stubbornly insists, but Hvitserk just shakes his head.

"Of course, he was. I saw him. And don't bullshit me, Ubbe, you saw him too. With Y/N." Hvitserk states. That's when you realize that your palms are sweating and your pulse is racing.

Hvitserk keeps going, now speaking to his guardian. "I know what I saw, Lagertha. It was him. I don't know how, but he was standing, Ubbe is right. He was even walking. It may sound weird but I swear, it was him."

Lagertha nods. "I believe you, Hvitserk." A beaming smile spreads across her lips and she tilts her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if Floki had something to do with such a miracle. Go get your brother, Hvitserk, please."

Your heart leaps at these words, you're barely able to contain your excitement and as you let out a nervous chuckle, you cannot help but jump for joy. Needless to say, Ubbe and Sigurd seem much less enthusiastic than you.

***

Reluctantly following his brother, Ivar mutters under his breath, "you're pissing me off, Hvit. I'm fucking not in the mood for whatever you have in mind."

Hvitserk pays him no mind though, a small smile dancing on his lips. "Trust me, baby bro, you'll be in the mood."

Ivar wants to protest, or maybe just turn around and wheel back to his room but all at once the sound of your voice reaches his ears and he stops, frozen in place, his eyes wide open. He may have stopped breathing.

Patting his shoulder reassuringly, Hvitserk whispers, "It's Y/N, baby bro, but I have a feeling you already know. She's here for you, she was looking for you, Ivar. Go..." before giving a single push to his brother's wheelchair, his right hand on the backrest.

Ivar honestly doesn't know how he manages to wheel himself into the living room. What he does know, however, is that you're suddenly standing right in front of him. The heart stopping smile you flash him blows all the air out of his lungs, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, and the outside world – Lagertha, his brothers, Harald – ceases to exist.

A little voice tells him he should be feeling self-conscious with his hair all messy and wearing worn sweatpants, but he can't bring himself to care, not when you kneel in front of him with stars in your eyes.

"Here you are, finally," you breathe, gently placing a hand on his knee. Ivar didn't know until now that one could die of happiness, but that's exactly what he's feeling and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Swallowing, he blinks several times. When he speaks, his voice trembles, his bottom lip quivering. "Hello Y/N, you were... looking for... for me?" He has trouble getting the words out, his nervous fingers fidgeting on his lap.

Grabbing both his hands in yours, you nod, your thumbs stroking his knuckles tenderly. "I was, yes, and for a very long time."

Shyly lowering his head, Ivar, almost feeling dizzy, can't wrap his head around your words. They're just too good to be true. "But... why?"

"Why?" You giggle, your laughing eyes lighting up your face, and he's positive, you're even more beautiful like this. "Isn't it obvious? I want to know more about you, what's your favorite color, what you eat for breakfast, where you see yourself in ten years. I just want to spend time with you, Ivar."

'Ivar' You've just said his name and it's like the sweetest music to his ears. He can't believe it. Wow. "You... You recognized me?" There's so much hope and joy in his voice, he cringes.

You shrug, your smile never leaving your lips. "I wasn't sure at first. You've changed a lot." Your hand cups his cheek. The sensation on his skin is so overwhelming he has to hold back the tears threatening to gush. Yet, he can't help but think you're speaking about his legs.

He grits his teeth. "Yeah... Standing tall can change a man."

"No! no, no, no," you retort without missing a beat, "That's not what I meant. In my memory you still looked like you did when we were ten, but look at you now, all grown up! Your hair was so short back then." Reaching out, you brush a strand of hair back and tuck it behind his ear before letting your fingers run slowly down and up his bulging biceps, your hand finally lingering on his forearm, "Plus, you clearly work out a lot. So, yeah, I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure. When we were dancing last night, I thought I'd ask you right after, but then you left and... well... I didn't have a chance..."

Ivar wraps his fingers around yours, a frown creasing his forehead. "About that, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left like–"

You shush him, holding a finger to his lips. "It doesn't matter, Ivar. You don't have to explain. All that matters is that I found you." Standing up, you lean forward and gently kiss his cheek and he feels like he's floating. Intertwining his fingers with yours, you whisper in his ear, "I reckon we got some lost time to make up, you and me. Can we go stargazing now?"

Hearing this makes Ivar's insides turn to jelly. Barely able to think, he is on cloud nine and wishes with all his heart never to come back down to earth again. But despite the daze, despite the fog in his head, despite the blinding happiness, he knows one thing: no matter how many stars he sees, you'll be the brightest one.

"Yes, Y/N, you're right," bringing your hand to his mouth, he gives it a kiss, "let's go stargazing."

And as he leaves the room, you walking alongside him with your hand on his shoulder, his heart filled with joy and wonder, he doesn't miss the thumbs up Hvitserk gives him, nor the scowl on Ubbe's and Sigurd's faces.

For a fleeting second, he thinks he should – he could – taunt them. They deserve to be laughed at, don't they? But then, he realizes he doesn't have time for that. The time for happiness has come, and it's far more important.

Giving you a beaming smile, Ivar inhales deeply before releasing a sigh of satisfaction. Yeah. Happiness. Happiness sounds good.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar’s taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: namjoon and y/n can’t get enough of each other & it shows

➳ pairing; kim namjoon x y/n

➳ genre; lveb!universe!!! smaybe/smalmost/smerhaps smut?? slightly suggestive is what i’m trying to say idk!! namjoon and y/n are obsessed with each other and yoongi likes making a big deal about it because both their faces get really red and it’s funny to him 

➳ wordcount; 1.7k

➳ gif sourced from here but please note that it still remains property of its original maker!

                                      »»————-　♥　————-««

“hello, hellooo!” yoongi kicks the door shut behind him as he steps into your apartment, tossing his set of keys up into the air before catching it and shoving it into his hoodie pocket, “let’s rock n’ roll, y/n! i’m ready to raid the supermarket!” he claps his hands as he enters the living room, turning to stare down the empty hallway before pausing

wow

the most exciting part of his week is when you guys go grocery shopping together?

there’s really no way to make that sound even remotely cool 

“…anyone home?” yoongi’s brows furrow in concern when he’s acknowledged by nothing but the sound of silence, “y/n?”

you’re usually sitting on the couch buzzing and ready to go when he gets here so it’s a little concerning that you weren’t the first thing he saw when he got here

he turns back to look at the shoe rack, everything suddenly clicking into place when he sees that there’s a pair of larger, definitely-not-y/n-sized sneakers sitting neatly on the top shelf

ahhhhh

okay

now he understands what’s going on

no wonder you barely responded to any of his texts yesterday

you were too busy getting busy with-

“yoongi! good morning!”

“morni-” yoongi turns his head back towards the hallway quickly, his brows practically stretching up to his hairline at the sight of namjoon’s current state

first of all, the man is wearing nothing but a blanket around his waist and it’s pretty clear to see that he’s not wearing any briefs underneath 

second of all, his cheeks are flushed, his hair is ruffled, and his skin is glowing

and yoongi isn’t a self-proclaimed genius but he knows that two plus two makes four 

“wow, wow, wow! good morning indeed-” yoongi whistles, immediately looking upwards as to avoid accidentally making eye contact with namjoon’s… fifth lim- “i’m hoping that’s a cactus under your blanket and that you’re not just ecstatic to see me-” 

“oh-!” namjoon gasps lightly, quickly pulling the blanket up a little higher before turning his hips in the other direction, “i, um, i didn’t know you were coming over today!“ he chuckles awkwardly, his grip tightening on the sheets, “i just came out for some water so i wasn’t expecting to see you- uh, did you have plans with y/n today?”

“yeah, it’s sunday, so… grocery shopping and stuff.” yoongi looks back down before holding his hand up to shield namjoon’s lower half from his poor, innocent eyes, “you’re welcome to come with us, but i’m definitely going to need you to at least put some underwear on-”

“today’s sunday?” namjoon breathes out, pausing for a second before blinking quickly and shaking his head, “jeez, i thought it was saturday! time flies, huh?”

“it sure does…” the corner of yoongi’s mouth twitches in a smirk before he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “…especially when you’re spending most of it railing y/n into oblivion-”

“yoongi-”

“speaking of y/n!” yoongi claps his hands and rubs them together, “is she ready to go?” he hums, leaning over slightly so he can peer into the hallway over namjoon’s shoulder 

“she’s, um, she’s actually still in bed but but i’ll go and tell her now that you’re waiting for her-” namjoon smiles sheepishly before pointing towards the kitchen, “do you want coffee or anything? i can make a latte for you! i’ve been practicing a lot with my frother- y/n really likes my milk foam-”

“oh, i bet she does-” yoongi snorts, leaning against the back of the couch before crossing his arms, “maybe next time, my man. you just go and get y/n for m- holy shit!” his eyes widen as soon as namjoon spins around to head back down the hallway, namjoon immediately turning back to glance at yoongi over his shoulder in concern

“what??”

“your back!” yoongi gawks, getting up from the couch to go over and force namjoon to turn back around so he can get a better look, “jesus, it looks like you got into a fight with like, ten cats!” he exclaims, his eyes glued on the fading red claw marks that start at namjoon’s shoulders and end at his lower back

he brushes his fingers over the (obviously fresh) half-crescent nail marks embedded on the tops of namjoon’s shoulders before wincing to himself, “maybe i should’ve gotten y/n a nail clipper for christmas-”

“o-oh-!” namjoon whips back around so that his back is facing the hallway before he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, offering yoongi a nervous smile, “i, uh, it’s- i’m totally fine, don’t even worry about it-”

“joonie, i-” yoongi perks up when he hears your voice only for you to pop out from behind namjoon a second later, “yoongi! ...you’re here?” you ask, ducking behind namjoon slightly and peeking at him over his shoulder

“it’s sunday, moron.”

“...?”

“oh, dear god-” yoongi gasps suddenly, eyes widening as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth, “namjoon fucked you dumb, didn’t he? i bet that banging your head against the headboard multiple times made you lose a bunch of brain cells. now i'm going to have to be the smart one out of the two of us??”

you roll your eyes immediately at yoongi’s sarcastic remark, though his comment about namjoon makes your cheeks warm slightly 

last week you slept over at his apartment so this week it was your turn to be a good host

and naturally…

let’s just say that you showed him how good of a host you were on the kitchen counter,,.., in bed,,.. on the couch,.,. in the hallway,.., in bed again.,.,

“anyway- how long do you need to get ready? twenty minutes?” yoongi pulls his phone out of his back pocket to check the time, “i wanna get my hands on a fresh, warm loaf of sourdough so we have to leave soon otherwise they’re all going to be gone and we’ll have to wait, like, five hours for the bakery to restock.” 

“right! yes! sourdough!” you clear your throat, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you sort through your thoughts

you didn’t know today was sunday so you weren’t ready to go grocery shopping at aLL 

 “okay! coffee first, then i’ll change, then we go-” you nod, nudging namjoon aside so you can brush past him 

“yeah, i think i’m gonna pop in the shower-” namjoon clears his throat, pulling the blanket up again before gesturing back towards the hallway, “i’m happy to stay here if you guys wanna go off and do your yoongi-y/n-only activities-”

“woah, woah-” 

you don’t get the chance to walk past yoongi before he’s reaching over and pinching the back of your shirt to keep you from going anywhere

you let out a little yelp when he tugs you back abruptly before twirling you around so that you’re facing namjoon 

“kim namjoon, you naughty, naughty man! what did you do to y/n??”

“wha- what?” namjoon blinks owlishly, yoongi tsking shamefully before wagging a finger at him 

“look!” yoongi gasps, hooking his finger into the collar of the shirt you’re wearing before yanking it down so he can expose more of your skin, “what, were you trying to suck the blood out of her??”

heat immediately rushes up namjoon’s neck and up to his ears when he realizes that yoongi’s referring to the multiple blotches of purple and red staining your skin 

maybe he got a little carried away last night 

but there were no complaints on your end so namjoon was more than happy to mark you up!

“he-” your face flushes and you slap yoongi’s hand away before pulling your shirt up to hide them, “they’re just hickies, yoongi-”

“first of all, only horny teenagers give each other hickies- second of all, hickies are supposed to be sexy little secrets-” yoongi hums, seemingly uncaring of the way that you wince as soon as he jabs his pointer finger directly into one of them (ow!!), “and these practically scream I’M GETTING LAID and every single single person that we pass by is going to glare at you-”

“why don’t you go and make us some coffee while i go and get changed?” you turn to give yoongi a warning look before pointing to the kitchen door, “go!” 

“i’m just looking out for the two of you!” yoongi raises his hands in defense, letting out a laugh as when you start kicking at him gently all while slowly nudging him towards the direction of the kitchen, “is it so bad of me to want to protect you from mr. mosquito over ther- ow, okay, okay-!”

you close the kitchen door shut with a breath, rolling your eyes at the sound of yoongi still babbling away to himself (“i’m realizing now that a vampire would’ve been a sexier example but mr. mosquito was the first thing that came to my head-”)

you turn your head slowly with your hand still on the doorknob, you and namjoon exchanging glances before bursting into giggles 

“sorry... you know how he gets.” you mutter sheepishly, making sure the door is closed properly before making your way back over to namjoon

“it’s all good!” he flicks his wrist at you before reaching up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, “sorry about the, uh, the hickies.”

“it’s okay... i like ‘em, so...” you confess quietly, your stomach fluttering at the memory of namjoon’s soft lips pressing against your skin, “sorry about the scratches.” 

“no, i like them too... they remind me that i’m probably doing a good job-” namjoon grins as he slips his free arm around your waist before pulling you towards him, another soft giggle bubbling from your lips when he swoops down to give you a kiss, “guess i’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone… i’ll miss you.”

“i’ll only be gone for a couple of hours…” you tease, reaching up to pinch his cheeks together so that his lips turn squidgy, “needy.”

“for god’s sake, i’m taking her grocery shopping, i’m not sending her off to space!” the kitchen door suddenly swings open as yoongi busts through, clapping his hands loudly to break the two of you up before he flicks his wrists to get you to move, “c’mon, let’s get a move on- i want my sourdough!” 

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

🌟or something even shorter? 

[shokobuns]

something sweet

maybe having someone to help you out in the stockroom wasn't so bad after all.

PAIRING: itadori yuuji x reader

GENRE: fluff, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: almost stabbed, mentions of sharp things (boxcutters and broken glass), making out

it’s not like you had a problem with the same menial tasks everyday.

in fact, you would even say that it was a fun way to spend your free period. it was better than doing some complicated assignment or even having to talk to people with your lack of sleep and patience. coffee never allowed for a proper nap no matter how exhausted you were and your teacher wouldn’t allow that anyways.

it was an easy job that you could do with minimal help. all you had to do was put the beakers away, clean up the floor once in awhile, maybe pop some bubble wrap when new packages arrived. being alone in the stockroom was nice because you were able to turn on some music on your headphones, do whatever dances you felt like doing as long as you were still doing your job. no help was needed or wanted.

“where should i put this?”

you jump, nearly stabbing the blonde haired boy behind you with a boxcutter. luckily, he was quick, jumping backwards with a yelp as you took a deep breath in to process the situation. you didn’t accidentally hurt the boy in front of you, did you? your face falls and the initial rush of fear turns into guilt. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know you were there!”

“it’s okay,’ he responds with a smile, unphased by the fact his shirt had almost been slashed, ‘i understand. you’re probably here alone most of the time, right?”

“yeah, i wasn’t expecting for anyone else to be here,” you sigh before realizing what he had probably walked in on before the whole ordeal, “wait.. did you see me doing anything?”

“you’re a pretty good dancer if that’s what you’re asking.”

embarrassment. your cheeks feel unbelievably hot and your stomach turns while embarrassment settles in your body. this period was your alone time, your chance to flail about and having someone else witness it? definitely not preferable. although, he does seem nice and he hasn’t made fun of you. not yet, at least.

his voice brings you out of your train of thought. “so, where should i put that thing?”

he carries on as if nothing happened. thank god. “the flask goes in that cabinet, bottom shelf. you’ll see more just like it.” you reply, pointing to the space.

he mumbles a quick thank you before doing unloading more of the new flasks onto the cabinet. you work on your own, choosing to count the new magnets on the other side of the room, doing your best to avoid him considering you just embarrassed yourself in front of the stranger by nearly injuring him for asking a simple question. though, he looks slightly familiar, he’ll probably be gone tomorrow and that’s all that matters.

behind you, yuji takes small glances while he puts away the flasks, waiting for you to turn around and ask for his name. hell, he’s waiting for any type of question. after all, who sees a random boy in their work space and doesn’t question it at all?

when the next day comes, you’re proven wrong because he sits in the chair, awaiting another order from you. you curse under your breath before putting on a faux smile. “do you need help with anything?”

“do you need help with anything?”

“no, thanks. i’m good on my own. you can go back to whatever you do in this period.”

he scratches his head, eyebrows furrowing together. “i thought you needed help. that’s what my math teacher told me when he sent me here.”

“not really? i can usually get a lot done on my own. who told you i needed help?”

“gojo. i’m his teacher assistant, but i don’t know how to do the math he’s teaching, so i can’t really help anyone.” he explains

“oh, yeah! i had him for calculus last semester,” your eyes light up at the mention of your favorite white haired mentor, “weird guy. good teacher.”

wait. gojo’s teacher assistant?

you’ve heard your friends talk about him, given that they were in that exact class the blonde haired boy was supposed to be in right now. the one guy that pe teachers fawn over and coaches try to recruit? why did they put him in the math department instead of pe? what’s his name again? yuki? yugi?

“you’re yuji itadori?”

“yuji itadori.” he confirms and you’re relieved. good thing you didn’t mess up his name.

no wonder he looked familiar. miwa was fascinated by his physical ability, you distinctly remember her pointing him out during lunch and telling you about how he was ‘scarily fast’ and could probably ‘lift ten of her at a time.’ although, it was from far away and he was partially blocked by a girl with short brown hair and megumi, the intimidating spikey haired quiet boy in some of your classes.

but yuji didn’t look like someone who could lift ten miwas up close. maybe he was hiding behind the oversized hoodie he wore, but he was a kind looking boy with wide eyes and messy tufts of strawberry blonde hair. throughout the short time you’ve seen him up close, he always had a slight smile on his resting face. in short, he looked approachable and was seemingly friendly.

“so, do you need help with anything?” he asks again and you decide that maybe he can be of use to you. especially if he has the strength that miwa had described.

“actually, yeah. can you lift those boxes over there and bring them to the other side of the room? they’re kind of heavy-”

she was correct because he lifts the box, which is supposedly about thirty kilograms according to your teacher, with ease. now, you don’t have to constantly go back and forth around the room just to put the packaged metal away in a farther cabinet and he can probably just put them away himself, too. it goes that way for the next hour and a half, both of you staying in your respective sides of the room, putting away your own respective items.

“thanks, itadori.”

“call me yuji.”

“will do.”

over the next two weeks, you two don’t talk as much as yuji had hoped.

he still remembers gojo’s words of encouragement, his push to get his favorite student to talk to the person who drops off notes to the teacher across the hallway from time to time. he’s never talked to you and he doubts you would even know that he existed in the first place. in fact, he was perfectly content with just stapling the papers that gojo would give him, maybe getting his own homework done in the period, but he was insistent.

“i’ve seen you staring outside the window whenever they pass by, yuji. just talk to them.”

“it’s okay.’

“no it’s not. get to know her. what if they’re nice? hmmmmm?”

“i’ll talk to her myself at some point.”

that was all it took for gojo to leave him alone, not that he didn’t like gojo or anything, especially with gojo being his second favorite teacher in the first place, but he’s content with his little crush. and again, he doubted that you would remember him in your history class and from the looks of it, he was right.

he just didn’t expect to be sent at the very stockroom that you would be in. for the rest of the semester. gojo had definitely set him up for something.

yuji was in that conflicting position in which he didn’t know whether to start a conversation or not because he didn’t want to bother you. but he also wanted to get to know you up close. of course he can sense your exhaustion himself through droopy eyelids that threaten to close and your dependence on caffeine, something he had learned about you so far in these few weeks. the only thing, it seems like.

as for you, a short talk with your science teacher confirmed that he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon and though you will miss dancing around the stockroom by yourself, he wasn’t bad company. he mostly kept to himself, often being more rigid when you barely spared him a glance. at the times you would speak to him, he seemed more excitable and easygoing, listening to every word you say.

“yuji?”

“hmm?”

“come help me by unboxing these beakers, alright?” you patted the spot next to you before sliding the blade down the tape, “don’t worry. i’m not gonna stab you.”

“i guess i’ll help,” he snorts, “don’t you usually do these by yourself?”

“yeah, but since you’re spending the semester with me in here, we might as well get to know each other right?”

the whirring of the fan, the sound of your voice — it all seemed to fade into the background as his heart thumped hard in his chest. a million thoughts, both good and bad, race through his head as he formulated different questions, answers, and scenarios in his mind, all of them being a jumble of fantasy and panic.

you wave a hand in front of his face in an attempt to catch his attention. he seemed completely frozen, staring at you with dead eyes and it’s now that you realize you haven’t seen him up this close. honey brown eyes, the soft curve of his nose, and were those crinkles under his eyes, too? up until now, you only knew him as the ‘athletic man who was bad at math’, but he was also undeniably beautiful with his carved face and strawberry blonde hair.

“yuuuuuuuji?”

“oh! i’m sorry! did you say you wanted to get to know me?”

“yeah, we’re kind of stuck in this room everyday for an hour and a half together. i might as well find out what your favorite color is or something.”

“red! my turn! what were you listening to when you almost stabbed me?”

“hey! it was an accident!” he giggles, slicing the tape seal down the middle and opening up the package and pointing right at it. “you see that? that could have been me. i should at least know what i’m being stabbed to.”

“meg thee stallion..”

“nevermind. she’s beautiful and i wouldn’t mind dying to her music.”

you snort, thinking up another question. maybe you should ask him about why that megumi guy was so gloomy? nope, might get too personal. what about the reason he’s here? nope, you already know.

“why don’t you do any sports even though you’re literally physically gifted?” you ask curiously. there’s still a smile on his face, but his expression becomes more wistful. you didn’t accidentally hit a spot, did you?

“my grandpa is in the hospital,” oh shit, you think, “i visit him everyday and if i was on a team, i would have to go to practice at the same time.”

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to hit a sensitive topic, but that’s sweet of you.’

“i don’t mind. and i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable.”

“no, it’s alright. let’s just keep asking questions then, okay?”

he nods.

in one hour, you learn that yuji itadori also likes karaoke, rice bowls, and that he’s just as bad at science than math. ironic. and yuji enjoys getting to know more about you, falling into easy conversation, becoming less of a nervous wreck. the more you speak, the deeper he falls into the trance and he silently thanks gojo for letting him get a closer look because you’re even better than what he could have imagined.

but the period is coming to an end and it’s time for him to carry off the last box of beakers to his side of the room. at least there’s time for another question and it’s his turn to ask.

“what’s your type?”

you place your fingers on your chin as you think for a moment, finding a common trait in every crush for a proper answer.

“i guess my type would be sweet boys. with pretty faces, like you, i guess.”

the response is nonchalant and you don’t think twice about it. maybe you were a little too tired to process how he’d interpret it or maybe a little too tired to filter yourself, but it slips out of your mouth like butter and you’re completely unphased. shameless, even.

meanwhile, the box drops to the ground and like before, every other noise besides his own heartbeat fades into the background, even the sound of shattering glass. heat creeps of his neck into his cheeks until his face is burning, his feet stuck in their place and his palms becoming uncomfortably sweaty. his mouth is wide open, but no words come out.

“yuji! we need to clean this, hurry up!”

your voice brings him out of his thoughts as he realizes what’s been done and immediately snaps back to carefully, but quickly, picking up the shards of glass and placing them in this box. “i-i’m sorry!”

“don’t worry. just leave the box on the counter and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

maybe you didn’t quite realize what you had said or what effect you had on him during that time in the stockroom because you continue everyday as if nothing happened.

it’s been, what? a little over a three weeks? and sitting next to you still causes his mind to go to odd places, ones with you. he starts to notice little things about you, too. how your tongue peaks out of your mouth when you’re peeling another sheet of bubble wrap off of some glassware, how you only count in even numbers when you take inventory of the containers.

god, you were adorable.

“yuji?”

“yeah?”

“did gojo ever tell you that there’s no cameras in here?”

“no? i thought they had security cameras everywhere.”

“that’s only hallways and classrooms. there’s none of them here. do you know what that means?”

“what?”

his head is already turned in your direction, the perfect opportunity to lean in and catch his lips. it’s small and he’s hesitant at first, but before you know it, your hands tangle in his hair, bringing him closer to you. he tastes like something sweet, like cherries, and his lips are warm. one hand rests on your cheek, his thumb brushing against it endearingly. when he pulls away, both of you are panting for air, the packages long forgotten.

“this sounds bad, but i’m glad that you’re terrible at math.”

“thanks.” he laughs and admires the look of your heated cheeks and swollen lips before pulling you back in for another searing kiss.

sure. being in that room by yourself could be fun, a perfect break with menial tasks lacking human interaction. you were far too tired to be patient with other people. but there was an exception.

© this is a work of @crybabygumi, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, or repost.

[forcefullyawake]

This is for @cupcake-rogue’s like a virgin collab!

Denki x F! Reader

Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff, and a suggestive ending. 

Summary: Sometimes the right person runs into you. Literally. Other times it’s a hero who’s not watching where he’s going.

WC: 1.9k

Denki Kaminari doesn’t do being nervous. 

He’s a hero, a pro, top ten. He worked his ass off during UA, his internships, did everything right, shed his jokester ways, and in the first hero rankings he was in? He placed higher thank even Bakugo. He’s impressive, he thinks, tall and blonde, having grown into himself after those first few awkward years. The point is he’s not nervous around women anymore, doesn’t stutter over his words or make inappropriate comments. He’s cool, mature, a catch for any woman. 

Until, that is, he quite literally runs into you.

“I’m fucking late,” Denki announces to nobody- it’s not like anybody stayed over the night before. It’s a true testament to who he is now that his morning routine can be essentially cut in half and almost nothing goes wrong during it. His hero costume is not only easy to get on, but something that works well with his usual wardrobe, so that he can be out the door in under twenty minutes for times like these. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” He mutters to himself, finally getting all the buttons into place right when the elevator opens up to the ground floor. It’s impressive, actually, that he manages to run into you. With a quirk like his, he’s learned to be constantly aware of his surroundings so nobody gets shocked accidentally. Today, however, he’s not thinking straight and runs directly into you, knocking you (and your paperwork) to the ground. 

He stops dead in his tracks, wanting more than anything to start apologizing, helping you pick things up. You know, things any normal person or hero would do but he finds himself stuck in place. You’re… hot, for lack of a better word. He’ll think of some later. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something about you that has him immediately bewitched- mind, body, and soul, just like that. You’re standing now, a scowl on your face and- hey you’re snapping your fingers for some reason, maybe he should listen in.

“Hello? Is anybody any there?” Your voice is understandably irritated, looking him up and down quickly before huffing. “Whatever. Watch where you’re going next time, jerk.” You spin away from him, taking his hopes and dreams right with you. But you walk into his apartment building, and through the glass doors that stand between you he sees you walk to the manager- so you’re either gonna live there or work there. Either way he has a second chance. 

His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket, and a quick glance tells him it’s Mineta, demanding to know where he is- is he okay? Was there a villain attack? Denki shoots off a quick text saying he’s just overslept before hurrying on his way. 

It’s not until later, when he’s finally in his office, that Denki realizes how he was feeling. 

For the first time, in a very long time, Denki Kaminari was nervous. All because of you.

“Stupid hero, not watching where he was stupidly going,” You mutter under your breathe before plastering on a smile when your new apartment manager steps into view. God, this place is so nice. You can’t wait to move in. You have to dropped off the signed leasing forms and then give the place one last look around before the moving trucks start coming in. 

The meeting goes smoothly, which helps ease whatever leftover tension you have from the morning. The keys are in your hands, the boxes are piling up, and your neighbor is out for the day it looks like so you can play music as loudly as you dare. Your day goes just about as well as a moving day can. You get the important things set up first- bed, tv, coffee maker. The creature comforts for when you’re inevitably exhausted tomorrow. You hear movement in the other apartment, frowning at the shared wall with how clearly you can. Hm, that might be annoying. Still, you don’t plan on turning down the music unless asked. 

Almost like clockwork you hear a knock on your door. You pause to lower the volume to a more acceptable level before opening the door, ready to introduce yourself and apologize, make a good first impression and all that only to see-

“You!” You raise an accusatory finger- at the hero who knocked you over and did nothing this morning. “You can’t be my neighbor!”

“I-” He starts, having the good sense to at least look a little sheepish now. “I’m sorry?” His hand comes up to scratch at the back of his head, making him look even more nervous but you can see his eyes looking over your shoulder to peer into your apartment. 

“Yeah, you should have said that this morning,” It holds less venom than you want, especially when you get distract by the muscles his actions put on display. Huh. Your new neighbor is incredibly built. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “Again, whatever. I turned the music down. Goodnight.” You go to close the door but his voice stops you. 

“Hold on, I wasn’t going to ask you to turn it down,” He starts, finally looking away from your apartment, “I liked it. And maybe you can play it for me now? I could help you put stuff away? Make up for this morning?”

You should say no. You’re already getting tired, you have stuff beyond packing to do tomorrow, and it’s stupid to let a complete stranger into your house. Even if he’s a pro hero. And even if he’s cute. You should tell him to get lost. Instead, you open your mouth to hear yourself say,

“Sure, come on in.”

Denki can’t believe his luck when you open your door a little wider to let him in. 

He was so sure you were going to say no- hell, even you looked a little confused when yes came out of your mouth, but he wasn’t going to question it too much. Your place already looked a lot cozier than his, with decorations half in the boxes, even. You have photos up on the walls already, pictures of people who look like you too and people who look like your friends. His own apartment is pretty sparse, just a place he can sleep and eat in. 

“Could you help me in the kitchen?” Your voice carries through the space, having left him behind. “I have some stuff that need to go onto the top shelf.” He follows blindly, biting down so hard on his lower lip it almost bleed when he sees you. You’re not doing anything scandalous, just putting dishes away but the way your arms are raised over your head have given him a glimpse at your skin where your shirt has ridden up. He can feel the blood rush south in his body, embarrassingly. 

“Stop ogling and start helping,” You snap over your shoulder, frowning at him. That snaps him out of his daze, not wanting to leave too soon despite having another early morning shift. He grabs the box you point at, and starts to place the mugs on the top shelf. They look like gifts, he thinks, all of them printed with far too many places for one person to have visited. 

“Your friends get you these?” He asks, trying to sound casually interested, not too desperate, “Or a boyfriend?” You snort at him.

“Friends, mostly, and some family,” You wait a long moment before continuing, “No boyfriends, though.” Denki internally heaves a sigh of relief. 

“I don’t get out much, with my job. But I like to pretend I do,” You say, eyeing the mugs wistfully. “How about you? You travel a lot?”

“That requires taking time off,” Denki says, frowning a little as he tries to remember his last actually relaxing day off. “But you know what they say- if you love your job, you’ll never work a day in your life!”

“Oh, bullshit,” You snort out, abandoning the box you’ve been unpacking all together. “I love my job, a lot, but I have worked some days.” The tension is broken after that, with Denki asking you to elaborate and you trying to play coy until the rants just burst out of you. It’s not until your stomach gives a loud grumble that you realize neither of you have been unpacking but just talking for the past hour and a half. 

It’s just late enough that a normal dinner is out of the question, but maybe you could order something in?

“I know a good ramen place that delivers here,” Denki volunteers, grinning sheepishly. 

“Are you sure your quirk isn’t mind reading?” You tease him, just to watch him laugh. He’s pretty hot when he laughs, you think, then immediately try to squash the thought. Dinner first, crushing on a hero later.

Dinner is ordered.

Denki’s right, the ramen is good and it comes quick. The two of you slurp your soup in silence, the awkwardness returning from before. Denki seems almost unable to look at you now, for some reason. He focuses in so hard on his bowl you’re surprised it doesn’t go up in smoke. You want to ask him about it but you can’t figure out how to phrase the question. 

For his part, Denki is having an internal meltdown. When you lean forward to take a sip of the broth your shirt pulls forward just enough that he can see the swell of your breasts. It shouldn’t affect him this much, he’s been around enough, but there’s something about the white of your bra that makes his head spin, makes him feel like a virgin all over again. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him the same moment he blurts out-

“I can see your bra, I’m sorry, don’t kick me out,” All in one breath. You’re silent for a moment, and then another, and another, and Denki regrets every choice he’s made in his life until now that brought him here. You keep not saying anything and a million and one scenarios run through his head, each one worse than the next. Oh my god, what if you tell people? He’ll be known as the pervert hero, he won’t be able to work in Japan anymore, he’ll have to someplace like America or-

“Would you like to see more of it?” Your voice is soft, shy as your hands twist in the bottom of your shirt, looking at him with wide eyes. He’s sure he’s misheard you because there’s no way you’re offering what he thinks you are. 

“More?” He manages to croak out. You don’t reply, but your shirt keeps going upwards. Your shirt continues upwards until it’s off of you and Denki’s brain has finally, truly short circuited. 

You’re not sure what’s possessing you to be so bold- maybe the conversation, maybe the way the food has made you comfortably warm and a little drowsy, maybe you just wanna see what he’ll do next. It’s cute, endearing even, how his eyes can’t figure out where to look. He can’t decide if he wants to throw himself at you or away from you. 

“More,” You agree, moving closer to him on the couch, taking the bowl from his hands to set on the table in front of you. Denki stops breathing as you move even closer to him, your face swimming in front of his eyes. “Tell me if I should stop?”

“Never,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours, tasting like a promise, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s so easy to fall into him, like you’ve known him forever, like this is as easy as breathing. 

It’s sunrise, somehow. Denki is still there, blissfully unaware as you watch him sleep. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t watch where he was going the previous morning. 

Now, though, you wouldn’t mind running into him again. 

[corysmiles]

IT'S HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRREEE!! The longest oneshot so far! XD Hope you like it

cw: general themes of hunger, blood, semi graphic description of violence. Be warned!

-----

Phil decided to visit early today, entering the cave and waving at Techno, who immediately recognized him. He moved closer and, while still hesitant, grabbed him and moved him at eye level. It was nice. A bit unnerving, but nice. Phil laughed and hugged two of techno’s fingers before he put him on the counter.

They spent most of the evening sharing stories and getting more comfortable with touch. They even made some progress, techno’s hand not shaking as much when he wrapped his fingers around Phil!

It would be an hour still before Wilbur and Tommy came. So Techno figured it was time to shrink to human size if he wanted to spend some time with them after dinner as a giant. He went and reached the shelf with the bottle. Phil simply whistled and looked around. He stopped and turned when he didn’t hear any drinking sound. Techno was frozen and he looked horrified.

“Are you alright, mate?”

“It’s empty.” Techno said.

“Oh. Well, looks like today is a stay-giant kind of day-”

“No.” Techno put the thing back. “How could I have missed it?? It’s not supposed to happen…” He swallowed and looked back at Phil, worry clear as day in his eyes.

They stared at each other, Phil trying to read the unspoken words of his friends, but nothing came. “What is it? You often stay at your real size during dinners, what’s up?”

“... I haven’t hunted in days.” He admitted after a couple more seconds of silence. “I don’t have any food for tonight.”

“Oh shoot.” Phil took a couple steps towards techno, reaching the end of the furniture. “That’s no good.”

“We’ll have to cancel the grouped dinner tonight.” The giant looked at his small friend. “I’m sorry, but I have to- I know we all usually look up to these gathering but I can’t- I”

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to panic, mate.” Phil tried to reassure. He only gained a loud whine from techno, that he could feel in his bones. (quite literally, the vibration almost made him shake.) “I’ll tell Wilbur and Tommy.”

Techno stared, unsure, before sighing and letting his arm fall. “Alright, go tell them.”

Phil pulled up his phone, sending a message to both his friends. As he pressed sent, he looked back at techno. He did say he used the potion for food, primarily, but surely he dealt with it before.

“Do you want to go now, or…?”

Techno shook his head. “No. Not right now. Plus you’re still here-”

“Oh that’s no problem” Phil waved off. “I can come hunt with you.”

At that, Techno made a…. cringed, sound? Embarrassed perhaps, Phil couldn’t quite name it, but he was definitely uncomfortable with the idea.

“I don’t… it’s quite… You don’t want to see it.” he put his hand on his face, covering his expression.

"It's alright, mate. You know I'm okay with you being a tall boy." He laughed

"No- I mean… I mean it, Phil. It's gross."

"Well then I'll stay here until you come back."

Techno lowered his hands to look at the human, almost annoyed. He groaned and hid his face once more before the sound became much louder, Phil stumbling a little. "There's no way you're giving up on this, is there?"

"Nope!" Phil said, jumping down and being caught by the giant in a panicked movement "Please learn to warn me when you do that, my heart can't take it" he laughed.

"Wilbur told me to do it like this. Says it's more fun."

"Of course he did."

They stayed in the abode a bit longer, watching the sun setting through the window. Techno at one point decided to try and play his violin again, trying to improve to play with Wilbur one day. And even though it was…. Improvable, to say the least, it wasn't terrible either.

Phil clapped at the end of each song, earning a small laugh from the giant every time. He even tried to dance to one. Fortunately, they were the only ones to witness the carnage that was Phil's stumbly move tied to Techno's cacophony. It ended in unstoppable laughter that shook Phil's entire body.

Phil paced around the table he was now on as the laughs died down. He toyed with what he assumed was a home-made pen, turning it around and moving it like it was a spear. He stopped dead in his tracks, shaken by a loud growl that resonated through the entire room.

He turned around and watched his friend put his hands on his stomach, face red, violin now on the floor.

Phil put on an amused smile. "I think now's a good time to go hunt."

"I-" Techno did not have time to object before another grumble was heard. He shut his eyes and opened them, surrender in his expression."Yeah. It- might be good."

He stood up and offered a hand to Phil. "The hunting area is quite far, though. You might wanna take the ride for this one."

The blond gladly hopped on the hand and Techno brought him next to his chest, fingers curling protectively around his friend who watched the road through the space between the fingers. And so he began to walk.

It was the first actual time he traveled with a giant like that. It was nice. And he was glad he took the offer when he realized how far from the abode it was.

The walk ended up being quite long, Techno's stomach growling a lot during it, seeming almost painful at times by the way his face twisted. And everytime, it felt like the giant wanted to just run away and hide from view.

"You don't have to be embarrassed because you're hungry, you know?"

"I- no, but it's- it's so loud and" another rumble cut him off "it's… a hungry giant is not a good sight. It's scary."

"I don't know about that." Phil replied "you're just Techno, who happens to need food. I don't see any problem with that." Techno snorted half in disbelief, at the naivety of his peer.

"You know my soft side too well. I should start to act scary around you more." Phil bursted out laughing at that.

"Yeah, I know you too well. You wouldn't hurt a fly even if you tried."

Techno hummed

"Except if one of us was in danger. I feel like that's the one scenario where you would go apeshit."

"Yeah. Yeah, probably."

The rest of the ride ended up in comfortable silence (apart from Techno's hunger manifesting in numerous loud gurgles). Techno took a breath of fresh air and looked at his friend. He finally lowered his hand and Phil hopped out, on the grass. He took the view around him. "So this is your hunting spot."

Techno nodded. "I'll need around 15-20 adult preys. Don't really care if it's a deer or a wolf or whatever. Once you're done, meet me here."

Phil nodded and took out his bow "alright. Be careful!" He waved goodbye and only heard his laugh as he dived deeper into the forest.

---

The hunt ended up being nearly two hours long. Phil was surprised by the amount of animals here. It made sense, though, since it was so far away from everything, and the only known hunter of the area only stepped by occasionally.

As he brought back the last body near the pile, he noted that it seemed quite little for his friend still. He frowned. Was his friend trying once again to limit himself, so that he doesn't scare Phil?

He visualised his friend, standing up, and then looked back at the pile.

Of course he was.

He groaned and pulled his hair "oh my god- I TOLD HIM IT WAS FINE- JESUS! What kind of tool do I need to use to hammer the idea down his head right?!?" He sighed. It's not like Techno had a small appetite. Everytime they gathered around, he was the one with the fullest plate. But he always was so much shiftier when at his real size. Even though Phil couldn't blame him, it pissed him off.

And so the hunt ended up being longer than anticipated. But he ended up gathering a pile he judged big enough for his friend. And so he headed back.

As he approached the meeting place, he called out "Techno? You ther-"

He stopped. Dead in his tracks. And watched his friend, sitting on the ground, rigid as a statue, hands placed on the ground, holding something he realized were different cows and sheeps and deer.

"What is he doing?" He murmured to himself, not taking a step closer. There was a few more minutes of silence, during which more creatures climbed on his hand, before the large body shifted.

Phil flinched at the sudden movement. The hand raised higher and higher, too quick to let the animals jump down before his mouth opened, jaw wide, and-

Crack.

In a single motion, all the bodies in his hands were chopped down, their other halves between the giant's teeth.

Phil's body was frozen, and he witnessed wide eyes, as Techno dived in and took the rest of his meal sitting in his hand. It was… animalistic, to say the least. After scratching for every little crumb, he lowered his hands, allowing his bloody jaw to be visible.

It was understandable he didn't want his friends to witness that, he realized.

But Phil blinked out of his trance and stepped in like nothing happened.

"Hey, mate." Techno flinched and snapped his head toward the human, who laughed. "Sorry, should've warned."

"It's... it's alright, Phil." Techno said, licking the blood off his face, trying to hide the previous instance. "Uhm, have you been here for a while?"

"Nah" Phil lied "I just came back."

"Good! Good." He stood up slowly "Can you bring me to the ones you hunted down?"

Phil nodded and turned back, getting to said spot. It was almost comical to see Techno taking a small step everytime Phil made ten long ones, but they arrived quickly.

Techno sat down and his eyes widened when he looked at the pile.

"... that's more than 20." He pointed out. The pile was 3 times Phil's size. There were at least double the amount.

“Yeah.” Phil admitted. “You seemed rather hungry so I thought you might have needed more.”

“I mean, you were not the only one hunting,” Techno laughed. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Phil smiled, but it died down a little when Techno shifted, apprehensive. He turned to the blond, a nervous look on his face.

“Mh… Can you- perhaps…. uh… Turn around, maybe?”

Phil gave him a sympathetic smile, before closing his eyes and turning around, sitting legs crossed.

He could only hear the giant, but by the sounds of it, the poor boy was actually famished. He stuffed as much food as he could and chewed fast, and the heavy swallowing sounds made him twitch. Bones were crushed and flesh was torn apart like his life depended on it. Maybe it was morbid curiosity. He did see what it was like earlier after all, but he couldn’t help the silent temptation to turn around and look at the giant in such an intricate, taboo moment.

But Techno trusted him to not do it. Trusted him in this vulnerable moment. One he felt shameful and embarrassed about, and only time could ease this silent pain inside the giant. So, with quite the self control, he kept his eyes shut.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the frantic sounds came to a stop. He furrowed his brows. Still nothing.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure on his head, ruffling his hair. A surprised sound escaped his lips and he laughed as he tentatively opened an eye.

“You good, mate?”

“Yeah” Techno said. “It’s good now.”

Phil turned around and took a small step back when he realized the giant was closer than he thought, hands making a barrier around him, which would be cute if it wasn’t for the crimson red tainting them up until above his wrists. And his face was also covered with blood. He had an almost panicked look as he moved his hands closer. He was panting.

“Hey.” Techno said and gulped, his hands even shaking slightly. Phil could read his thoughts clear as day.

‘Is he scared?’ ‘My hands are so bloody’ ‘Is he gonna run away?’ ‘I probably look like a mess-’ ‘He asked for it, but is he still okay with it?’

‘Is he still okay with me acting like myself?’

Techno was scared. So scared that showing more of him would push him away… But Phil knew better.

And so, to this new side techno showed him, Phil said.

“Hello, mate.”

----

They ended up going back not too long after that, Phil sitting on Techno’s shoulder to avoid the disturbing smell his hands bore. On the way back, Techno let it slip that he hadn’t eaten at all the whole day, hence his need to hunt. Phil scolded him for a good part of the ride about that. But eventually, it ended with smiles and laughs (and a promise to be more careful about techno’s diet. “Well, it’s been in shambles for quite a while” “You are not helping your case here, mate.”)

They entered techno’s abode and next thing Phil knew, he was grabbed gently and placed on the counter. He blinked and saw his friend grabbing a towel and a water bucket.

He chuckled, watching his friends wash away the blood he almost forgot about.

Once clean, techno sighed and turned to Phil. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

He laughed. “I mean, it’s the middle of the night. Kind of late for me to go back. Mind if I sleep here for the night?”

They stared at each other for a while before techno hummed and opened his palm in front of Phil, who hopped into it easily.

He was grabbed and held onto a bit of a squeeze, not sure why until he felt techno falling straight on his bed, not controlling the arm holding phil that much. He screamed at the sudden sensation of falling, but noticed he was fine once the movement stopped. He sighed. “You could warn me about that next time.”

a rumbly “mmhhsorry” was the only answer he got. He laughed as he watched the exhaustion hit his friend. The grip lessened and, slowly, he allowed himself to relax, the heartbeat and deep breathing of the giant soothing him into a good night of sleep.

No, techno was not always soft. Technoblade was not a man of manners. Technoblade could be harsh. He could be intimidating, violent and raw…

Technoblade was kind as much as he could be cruel. Philza was aware of that reality more than anyone else.

And he would not have it any other way.

You’ve done it again, please send love to @melissa-s23 for this awesome fic 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Cant wait for more of the potion au :]

[harryspet]

Could you right a scene for sweet sister💎 where the oc grew up a bit and has a bf and realizes how wrong the things he did to her was? Like her confronting him and stuff like that. Btw love all your fics❤

sweet sister [2] peter parker

[Warnings] dark peter parker x innocent reader, angst, stepcest, aged-up peter, dubcon, rough sex, male/female masturbation, manipulation, little editing 

A/N: I actually really enjoyed writing this! I hope everyone enjoys the part two!

In which you finally confront Peter for taking advantage of you.

part one 

word count: 1.6k

As your boyfriend parked in front of your family’s brownstone, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of anxiousness. You’d moved out two years into college and, although you visited a lot, this time was different.

You loved Peter. You were in love with him and, through your blind innocence, he had convinced you that he felt the same. 

When he said you two couldn’t be together, you didn’t understand. You’d spent the entire summer going on little dates and Peter taught you so much about sex and pleasure. When the summer was over and you wanted more, he up and left you. 

It took you a long time to heal from it. At least, you thought you had healed. 

“Do you want to wait in the car?” Ethan asked. 

You felt your eyes welling with tears but you quickly pretended like you were fine. You turned to your boyfriend, smiling, “No, of course not. Let’s go.”

You never told him the extent of what happened between you and Peter. Until you met your boyfriend, you hadn’t realized how corrupted you had been. Peter had violated your trust and innocence. He did things to you that a brother should never even think to do. 

Your visit home began smoothly. Happy was interrogating Ethan like usual, you were helping May out in the kitchen, and Peter called to say that he wasn’t going to make it. 

It was getting late, you were about to doze off as you rested your head on your boyfriend’s chest. Happy had chosen some old movie and the four of you piled into the living room to enjoy some more family time. 

Your boyfriend traced his fingers over the skin of your arm, making little shapes, and, although you were sure he didn’t notice, it always comforted you. You were about to close your eyes when suddenly the front door opened. May stood, going to greet Peter at the door, and your heart began to pound in your chest. 

“Peter, you made it!” As the two stepped into the living room, you sat up, taking in his appearance. He didn’t look much different, just a bit more tired in his eyes. By his duffle bags and casual clothing, you could tell he had just gotten off a flight. 

Both May and Happy were talking but their voice was muffled as you and Peter stared into each other. 

As Peter’s eyes found the hands wrapped around your waist, something deep within him snapped. Peter’s jaw clenched as he heard his Aunt May say, “Y/N? No hugs?”

You faked a smile, Peter knew better than to believe it. You grabbed your boyfriend’s hand, urging him to stand up with him, “Sorry, I’m just so tired,” As you approached Peter, you made sure to only give him a side hug, “Peter, this is my boyfriend.”

Your boyfriend was a little nervous to be meeting The Spider-man but he tried not to fanboy as he shook Peter’s hand, “It’s so nice to meet you, man.”

For the first time, you actually saw that Peter was bothered by something. He was usually so confident, especially around his family. 

“Yeah, same,” Peter spoke through clenched teeth, trying to fake a smile of his own, “You guys are watching a movie? Which one?”

“Yeah, Happy actually-”

You interrupted May, “I think we’re actually going to turn in. You missed a lot of the movie anyway, they already killed the evil aliens.”

Peter looked you over, gripping the strap of his bag tightly, and you could feel the anger radiating off of him, “Okay, well, I’ll make Ethan’s bed on the couch.”

“Wait, he’s going to stay with me in my room,” You said and both May and Happy paused awkwardly. 

“Y/N, you remember the rules. No boys in your room until you’re married,” Happy spoke, acting as fatherly as he could. 

If only they knew what kind of things had happened in your room. Your shoulders slumped and you looked at Ethan who was more than willing to not anger Happy, “Fine, I just want to sleep.”

+

Your old room was just like you had left it. You walked around it, now dressed in the matching pink set that was your pajamas, examining all the items of your past. You saw the pile of stuffed animals in the corner, the dollhouse you were way too old to play with, and your shelf of romance novels. 

As your eyes examined your canopy-covered bed, you saw yourself. You were shirtless, only wearing a pair of white panties, and you were sat on your knees. One of your favorite stuffed animals, Boris the Bear, was sitting between your legs. Its empty eyes stared up at you, innocent and not at all deserving of what Peter wanted you to do it. 

He was touching himself as he watched you, “Just-” A groan, “Just rub yourself against his nose.”

You did as he said, feeling that new sense of pleasure as you moved your hips back and forth. By how hard he was, how fast he was pumping his hand, you knew he liked it. You always liked when Peter was happy. Why wouldn’t you want your brother to be happy?

“Good girl. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, Peter-”

You looked up, startled, as Peter appeared in front of you, “Are you daydreaming? You didn’t even hear me come in.”

His chest was bare, and you didn’t think it was possible for him to become more muscular. Years of being Spider-man can do that to someone, you assumed, “Get out-”

“Thinking of me?” You shook your head as Peter moved closer, cornering you.

“Of course not,” You lied. You had imagined this moment a million times, finally airing out your grievances and telling him how bad he hurt you. Now, you felt you were paralyzed as you took in his scent and felt the heat radiating off of him, “Peter. Get. Out.”

Peter scoffed, “You’re mad at me? Is it because of that boring piece of white bread sleeping on the couch downstairs?”

Anger rose in your chest, “Don’t talk about him that way. You have no right,” Seeing you all flustered only made him want you more. You were backed up against the wall, his hands on either side of your head as he stared into your eyes.

“I have no right?” Peter’s brow furrowed, “You’re my baby sister, of course I do.”

“You’re a predator, Peter,” You stated firmly which made his eyes darken, “You don’t care about me. You want one thing and now you’ve got it.”

“Your innocence? That’s true, I do have that,” Peter spoke more confidently than you expected, “But that’s not all I want.”

You pushed at his chest, trying to get him away from you but he swiftly grabbed your wrist and pinned them above your head. You struggled against his superhuman strength as he leaned in to kiss your neck, “Peter, no more! You lost your freaking mind a long time ago and all of this ends today. We’re done.”

You were stronger than you used to be. You had to be. 

He shushed you, “You’ll like it,” He dipped his hands between the fabric of your pajama bottoms and panties, feeling the slickness between your neck, “Is this from earlier when you were daydreaming about me?”

You shook your head, “We’re done, Peter. I-I have a boyfriend-”

“Then why are you getting wet for me?” Peter rubbed his fingers in circles as he continued to kiss your neck. He leaned into your ear, your heart pounding in your chest, “I’m gonna fuck you against this wall, Y/N, and I'm going to make you happy as any good brother would do too.”

This was wrong, you repeated it over and over in your mind. Everything he had done was devious and predatory. He took advantage of you yet, when your lips met, you felt your lips melt against his. 

Why was it such a heavenly feeling to have his lips on yours when it should feel like sin?

It was so passionate but clumsy as he pulled down your pajama bottoms and panties. It was like he might explode if he wasn’t inside of you in the next ten seconds. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he slid down his own boxers, letting his cock spring free. He grabbed one of your legs, lifting it as he positioned himself at your entrance. 

His tongue licked at your own as he slammed himself inside of you. It was so rough that one of your framed pictures fell off the wall. It was never like this that summer you spent together, Peter was always gentle with you but now he was a complete animal. 

He moved in and out of you quickly and, you thought it might hurt, but it was just as euphoric as the kiss. He swallowed your moans with his mouth as he pounded into you. Your nails scratched at his broad back, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. 

You both came hard, shaking as you gripped each other for support. Peter pressed against you, leaning into the wall, as he caught his breath. 

As soon as it over, reality hit you like a brick. What had you done? You’d manage to hurt Ethan and yourself so quickly. You pushed Peter away, brushing past him as you struggled to pull up your panties. A strangled cry left your lips as the emotions hit you all at once. 

Peter reached out to grab your hand, pulling you back, “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” You fell to your knees and Peter joined you quickly. He hugged you and you leaned your head against his shoulder, sobbing, “You did good. You’re always such a good girl for me, Y/N.”

“I hate you,” The words choked you as they struggled to leave your mouth.

You hated that deep down you craved his approval. Craved his pleasure. 

“But you’re mine, Y/N. I should’ve made that lesson number one,” He ran his soothing fingers through your hair, brushing away the shame, “Don’t worry, we’ll start our lessons again.”

+

Like, reblog and let me know what you think! (also, im sorry, but PLEASE don’t ask for a part three)

my requests are open

[lengthofropes]

POVs series

Part 3: Jack

(Part 1: Cas is here)   (Part 2: Sam is here) - can be read as separate stories 

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words: 5,4k | smr: Jack’s POV as Cas returned from the Empty / Heaven rebuilt  | read on A03

rating: general | warnings: none 

———-

This is my little contribution for dadstiel week <3

———-

“Any thoughts?” I ask. 

Castiel looks around. The room is empty. Light within the white walls and ceiling is flashing every few seconds. Heaven looks like abandoned office building after significant staff cuts. 

“It’s so quiet here” he says. He looks despondent. “This place was so full of power and light. My brothers and sisters… If I knew it all will end this way…” 

I come closer and touch him by the arm. This must be hard for him, I understand, but this is why we are here - to fix. This is why I asked for his help, who else can be a better adviser?

“This is not the end, don’t say it. We are here to make a new start”

He looks at me, and slowly his face eases from pain and regret. I know, he believes in me. Like always.

“Will you help me? I can’t make it without you”

He smiles, finally. It’s a warm smile, full of gratitude and love. 

I made a right decision, now I’m sure, he is glad to help. But after all, he’s the one who taught me, that it makes you feel so much better, if you’ve got the opportunity to make things right.

“Sure, Jack” he nods. Then adds, quietly “Thank you…”

I smile back at him, I can’t hold it. This is going to be great! Energy fills me. We always have so much fun, working together, it feels encouraging to have him near.  No matching ties this time, but it’s okay. 

It’s good that time flows differently here. We got so much work to do… and when I will bring him back on Earth, it’s gonna be just a couple of days, I guess? At least I hope I won’t take us longer, I’m not sure I can handle another conversation with grumpy Dean. It’s hard to keep a straight face, when he’s like this. Yeah, I understand he’s worried and he doesn’t want to let Castiel out of his sight, but he’s gonna be with me. With ME, Dean! I need my father’s help with something, can I spend some time with him, too?  

I’ve waited enough time for Castiel to feel better again. Until he’s strong enough after coming back from the Empty. All is well now. 

All is good.

“Alright!” I clap my hands. “Where do we start?”

***

We walk empty corridors, discussing our strategy. 

“Angels were supposed to be guardians, shepherds.” Castiel says. He’s calm and thoughtful. “We were born to protect our father’s creations. We are soldiers on guard of peace and prosperity. Not the blunt instruments of war.” 

“I guess you are the only one who understands it right” I nod. 

He is. He was bullied so often for having too much heart, it’s ridiculous. By the creatures, spoiled with pride, lust for power and profit. Where are they now? 

“You’re too kind” he smiles humbly.

“I am the way I am, thanks to you. Thanks to our family.” It’s a simple truth, and we both know it. His smile grows, and he puts a hand on my shoulder. 

The light is flickering again, but much more intense this time, walls are shaking.

“It’s getting worse…” There’s concern in Castiel’s voice. “I am amazed this place is still holding on.”

“Yeah. Not enough angelic power. I remember Dumah tried to make me create angels beings by forging human souls, to return Heaven it’s might.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes, definitely not the best one of his memories. But hey, not my fault, anyway. Besides…

“They all are dead now. It was a bad idea.”

“Any manipulation with human soul is a bad idea. What was she thinking?” He seems to be still angry about that. And I fully support him, but the question stands. 

“I don’t think we can rebuild it in any other way. Heaven needs angels, they are the essential source of it’s power.”

Shaking has stopped, the light is dim, but at least it doesn’t flicker anymore.

“I know”, Castiel agrees with heavy exhale. “How many are left there? Nine? Ten?”

“Eight” I purse my lips. “Seven up here, including Naomi, who’s still in jail”

“Still?” 

“Yeah. Seems like no one likes her…”

“I can’t blame them” Castiel deadpans, and it makes me laugh.

“And Anael, she’s still on Earth” 

“Oh, the famous businesswoman”

“Yeah.”

He gives me the look.

“Should we… talk to her?” I don’t want to, but I have to ask anyway.

“We should” he says unenthusiastically. “But…”

“Not now?” 

“Not now” he agrees, squinting his eyes.

“Later” 

“In the last place”

“When she will rethink her life choices”

“Absolutely” he nods again, dead serious.

I crack first and he follows immediately, it’s good to hear his laugh.

We keep snickering, passing the heaven rooms. Number 257, number 259… This corridor seems endless.

“You know,” I start. “When I first got here, I thought it looks more like a prison. Or! Like an aquarium for a goldfish!”

“Small tank for a single soul?” Castiel raises his eyebrow.

“Yeah! And people here are like a fish. You know, goldfish has a 3 seconds memory? It forgets everything, before it starts another round in it’s tank”

“Like people here, captured in never-ending loops of their best memories…” he continues my thought, musingly tilting his head. “Yes, exactly.”

“And they are happy. Mom looked happy, I think…”

“You’re not sure?” 

“Would you be happy on your own forever? Even in your best memory?”

“They don’t feel like they are on their own, they exist within a moment of eternal peace.” He shakes his head. “But I got your point. They don’t have a freedom of choice, they don’t know it’s a loop. Goldfish souls…”

I stop. He looks at me, and I see the question rises in his eyes, along with the hope for the answer.

“Can we…”

“..give them the choice?”

We look at each other, knocked out with the idea itself.

“Jack… this… this is wonderful!”

“You think? This will make them happy? I mean, happy for real?”

“You know what…” his face is focused, he tries to remember something. “Actually, we can ask. Dean once told me about one friend of theirs. I don’t know him in person, he died before I met Winchesters. But he’s here, he broke the loop, and figured the way to travel between individual heavens.”

“Oh, I know! Ash!”

“Right... “He seems a little confused. “I have to get used to it. You know everything now. Of course, you know everything...”

***

Sure, we didn't break in right inside, we knocked on the door politely. Jo (I know, it’s her, she’s very nice!) opens the door.

“Cas??” She’s amazed, but her smile is so genuine, I like it.

“Hi, Jo” Castiel is surprised too, but he takes her attack hug very well.

“Mom!” She yells. “Mom, look who’s here!!!”

“Joanna Beth, quit yelling, for God’s sake!”

We enter the bar and see Jo’s mother. I never thought someone’s heaven can be an old bar, all smelled with beer and peanuts, but here we are. And I like the smell, actually. It fits very well.

“Castiel? Well, I’ll be damned!” She puts down the glass and walks out from behind the bar counter. “Come here, you feather ass!”

She squeezes him tight, but he’s okay with it, he looks very happy.

“Who’s the kid?” She nods in my direction.

“Hi, I’m Jack!” I smile and raise my bunch of fives in greeting.

“Yes, this is.. this is Jack. He is..”

“I’m new God”

“You’re… who?”

“…he’s WHAT?” 

“It’s a long story.” Castiel purses his lips, as he alternately looks at Joe, then at Ellen. Their eyes are wide, but it makes them no less brave. 

“Then sit and talk, we have all the time in the world here. And are we yearned for the news, you know.” Ellen beckons us to the counter with a nod.

“Sure” Castiel agrees. “But where’s Ash? We thought we’re gonna see him here, isn’t it his heaven?”

“It is” Jo sits on the stool. “Our looked exactly the same. And when he found us, we kinda decided to move. He got all his stuff here, and it’s easier to travel from this starting point.”

“So you travel between heavens too?” Cas asks.

“Yeah, but not so much as he does. It’s better to have such opportunity, then to be locked, anyway. I mean, we don’t complain, but…”

“We were shocked when we saw him first. But then he explained. A lot of things, actually, about how everything works here.” Ellen continues, putting four glasses of beer in front of us. She looks at me suspiciously. “How old are you, exactly?”

“Oh, I’m three” 

Her eyebrows are high again, but Castiel just shakes his head. 

“He can drink, Ellen. That’s okay”

“Oh yeah? And who are you, his dad?”

“He is!” I confirm. “Well, actually, my father is Lucifer, but Castiel raised me. Castiel, Dean and Sam”

Jo chokes on her beer and Castiel pats her back gently.

“I guess I have to explain a lot of things, too” he apologises.

“Please, give us a favour… And I think we’re gonna need something stronger here…” Ellen takes a bottle of tequila from the shelf. “Don’t worry, no hangover here”

Door slams loudly.

“Whooo! Look who’s back, ladies! I gotta say, Cliff Burton is a really nice dude in person. He…” A man in colorful mask and a gold cape runs inside the bar. 

“Oh..” He freezes, looking at us. “A company?”

“Ash, this is Castiel and Jack. Guys…” Ellen smiles to us. “This is Ash”

***

I wander around the bar, eating salted peanuts. Really tasty, I like it. So many cool pictures on the walls, the pool table, music box. I think this place is awesome! Castiel continues his story, he’s somewhere near to the mark of Cain. Guys sit around and listen with genuine interest, I’ve lost count how many glasses they’ve had already. They cried a lot, they laughed, too. Of course. This is the most amazing story ever!

“So, we’re here with Jack to make Heaven a better place” Castiel finishes.  “And we wanted to ask you about the travels between individual spots. Are you the only one who’s capable of that?” He looks at Ash.

“Well, I guess I am” He sounds so proud of himself, trying to hold back the burp. “I’ve never seen anyone else doing it, only me and my friends” 

“And you can travel anywhere?”

“Mostly” he scratches behind his ear. “Some places cannot be located with my scanner. It’s not powerful enough, I assume”

“We can’t find dad” Jo interrupts. She looks sad. “We don’t know why. We even thought, that maybe… maybe he’s not here”

“Bill Harvelle is in Heaven, as far as I know” Castiel sounds concerned, looking at me.

“He is” I nod in confirmation.

“Well,” Ellen smiles bitterly. “Good to know”

We are silent. Suddenly Heaven is not a happy place at all.

“You know what’s weird?” She says. “We didn’t even think of him. I mean… We remembered him, sure. But we… Dammit, it’s so hard to explain! We were like in a bubble, before Ash came. A happy bubble, no regrets, no worries…”

“No thoughts. Just bliss. Perfect loop” Castiel follows.

“Totally” Jo agrees. “You know, all your life you believe, you’re gonna meet your loved ones here, someone you miss the most. And then it turns out you’re just being canned in a piece of your happy memory. And no one complains, because no one… acknowledges.”

“The more I listen, the more I am convinced that this place was created without the slightest consideration of the real needs of the human soul” Castiel sounds bitter, utterly disappointed.

“Because no one cared to listen” I’m sad too. 

I know what my happiest memories are, they all are full with the people I love. Jo is right. Leaving people blindfolded is not an option, they deserve so much better.

“Well,” Castiel stands up from the stool.” Now we know, what our priorities are.”

“Looks like a lotta work, you guys need some assistance?” Ash drums his finders on his glass. 

“Thanks Ash. We’re not sure yet, but if we will, we know where to find you.”

“You’re cool, and I like your hair very much!” I add. 

Compliment makes Ash fidget in his chair, but he is pleased.

“Thanks! You both look cool too” he raises his eyebrows approvingly.

“Yeah, by the way” Jo bumps Castiel’s shoulder with her fist. “So unusual without your trench coat, much better now. Love the T-shirt!”

“Uh, yeah… thanks,” Castiel awkwardly fiddles with the zipper on his hoodie, I think his cheeks blush?

“Wait…is this… Dean’s?” Jo squints her eyes examining familiar print.

“Yeah, I umm… haven’t got a chance to buy a new clothes yet.” No doubt. He’s blushing. “So Dean just… um.. borrowed me some of his old.” He deliberately takes a gulp from his glass to cover his sudden shyness. I don’t understand why to be shy about this, but it’s none of my business. Harvelles quit their interrogation too.

“Now, where to next?” Castiel ask, as we walk out of the bar. He tries to fix his hair after particularly heartful goodbye hugs they gave him. 

“Luchbreak?”

***

We sit on a roof of Chrysler building. It’s a room 566297335, this guy’s best memory is finally getting a promotion and moving to the bigger office with a spectacular view. All people are so different…

“So,” my mouth is a little too full with burger, but I’m too excited to chew slower. “Travels between the personal rooms?”

Castiel sips his coffee thoughtfully, his gaze is fixed on the horizon. 

“Yes,” he nods carefully. “This concept is inspiring.” 

He’s quiet for the moment. Fake New York is silent around us, no buzzing cars, no human voices, no wind. Still, it’s a beautiful decoration, never-ending spring sunset, coloring the streets with warm and soft orange palette.

“Among the many things I’ve seen for the past years being on Earth, purity of human soul enraptures me the most. It’s vulnerability and integrity. People are so fragile, so defenceless. Life is ruled by their emotions and feelings, and they live it in the eternal search for a soul that will make their own feel accepted as it is. And this... This is the most beautiful thing.” He looks at me, endless warmth and placidity in his eyes.

“You think, we really understand it? Human soul? You and I?”

He smiles.

“I don’t think it’s something that can be understood completely. I doubt that a person is able to understand their soul, not to mention the soul of another human being. But we can listen attentively.” He looks at me. “The least we can do, is be kind and do not confine anyone's freedom. We had a good teachers.”

“Yes… No more cells” I nod affirmatively.

“No more cells” Castiel agrees.

***

We’re in the white room, a map of old Heaven lays on the table and we keep studying it. Castiel rubs his eyes constantly.

“You know what, it’s too old school on paper, let me make a 3d hologram…” I click my fingers and it’s done. ”Better?”   

Castiel blinks few times and comes closer to observe.

“Yes, way better! Thank you, Jack” he puts his hand on my shoulder, smiling at the new workspace.

“It’s still so… flat” He adds. 

Indeed, Heaven looks like endless paper sheet, ripped out of squared notebook. 

“Yeah…” I’m not impressed too. “I’ve always thought Heaven is much cooler place.”

“We should work on a structure” Castiel mumbles. “Now it’s just enormous amount of cells, each decorated in it’s own style. And if we want them to be connectable…”

“Maybe we should remove the walls entirely? Like, make one big space?”

Castiel blinks.

“We- can we do it?”

“Sure! We can make it look like anything we want. Like a Disneyland. Or a Death Star!

“I don’t think Death Star is acceptable reference here” Castiel tries to hold back his smile.

“Coruscant?” I may be overly enthusiastic over this idea, but why not?

“No.” He’s very gentle, but I got his point.

“Endor?” This is my last try, I promise.

“I was thinking maybe… Earth?” 

“Oh!”

“Basically, we already have different parts here, from all the ages and territories. So, maybe we…”

“Yes! Combine them together!” This is so simple, I love it!

Cas is hesitant again, there’s a doubt on his face, forehead frowned.

“But won’t this cause a turmoil? The Earth has looked very different throughout it’s history. And each soul remembers it in it’s own way.”

“So? Time and space aren’t a thing here. We can create a collective image, a collective space. We won’t even have to make a large effort, people’s memories are our best designer. Our Heaven can consist of any number of layers. It already is! Remember Ash? He travels through Heavens from different countries and different eras. Nothing is impossible here”

“This.. this sounds so simple?” I can see, he slowly accepts the idea.

“Well, the concept is simple. But we definitely got a work to do.”

He smiles. Wide and inspired. 

“It’s wonderful, Jack!”

“Yes. But the main question is, how many angels do we need to make it work?”

Castiel’s smile fade. 

“Yes… Angels,” he exhales heavily.

“Cas..?” 

He walks around the table and sits in the chair. He rubs his forehead, looking down on the floor, I cannot see his eyes.

“Castiel?” I come closer. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just… I understand, you can create angels now. From a scratch, like Chuck… God… used to. This is what you’re going to do?”

“Yes.” I nod. “In fact, they are going to be my first children”

I’ve thought about it. Not that I’m terrified with the responsibility, not that I have doubts. This is just… something absolutely new. Not even like bringing the entire population of Earth back. The creation. Pure. 

“And I’m going to give the living ones their wings back” I smile. I hope this will bring back my father’s good mood.

He smiles, but I know he still blames himself for the angel’s fall. 

“This is great, Jack, this is wonderful!”

“But, you’re sad?”

He’s quiet again. I guess I know what he’s thinking about now. But I wait… he’s gonna tell me himself.

“I just think… I keep thinking, if they would have been happy? To see Heaven, all new, peaceful and powerful. All my brothers and sisters, who…” He stutters, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. The names, so many names.

“Samadriel.” He continues. “Hanna, Kelvin, Ezekiel, Muriel, Inias, Nithael, Rebecca, Joshua, Sofia, Ambriel, Zuriel… even Anna. And all those fools, who followed Metatron… or Bartholomew. Poor ones, who got their brains washed by Raphael.” His voice is very quiet. “And… Balthazar”

“I think it would” I can feel his pain, it curls around him, pulls him into the abyss of regret. “I- I hope so… All I know is that they are sleeping now, they are at peace, Castiel. No more screams in the Empty”

“Yes. Yes, I know. I remember” He rubs his face, like he wants to clean the sadness off it.

“I’m sorry, Jack.” He tries to smile. “I shouldn’t be so…”

I put my hand on his shoulder, calmingly, softly.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

***

“Ready?” Castiel looks at me fondly, and I crack my fingers with much enthusiasm.

“Yes! Absolutely”

“Just make sure they are not… dicks” he gives me the look and I nod approvingly.

“Will do!”

My hands are warm, I can feel the power flows inside me. Concentrates in my fingers, making them tremble. It starts with soft glowing, eventually increasing into a stream of light, that gathers into a luminous ball between my palms. It turns and grows, and it shines so bright. The light within the walls and ceiling of the white room is flickering too, encouranging me to continue.

“Hello!” I smile and raise my hand in greeting. “Welcome to Heaven. You are my first angel”

Angel looks at me, confused and bewildered.

“I like him.” I smile at Castiel. “I’m gonna name him Luke!”

He just laughs, he doesn’t argue.

We got so much work to do today.

***

“HWW!” His face is pure smugness. He turns the screen of his homemade laptop for us to take a look, but honestly, we don’t seem to follow.

“Hw-w?” Cas tilts his head. “Is that a reference? I- I’m afraid, I don’t get it, Ash”

“Yes! HWW!” Ash repeats, but his smile slowly fades, as he understands that we really have no idea what he’s talking about. “Guys, come on! Really?”

He said this project is something extremely important and cool, and it will be the fundamental part of New Heaven. But we don’t get it.

“World Wide Web! But it’s Heaven, so its’ gonna be the Heaven Wide Web!” He raises his hands above his head and shakes them victoriously. “Ta-daa!”

“The… Internet?!” 

“Yes!” He slams his hands on the desk and starts typing something on keyboard. “Okay, I was thinking... Every soul is unique, right? It has it’s own structure, vibe.. whatever. And it’s own individual number here, right?”

We nod.

“What if we use it like the IP-address? And each soul will get it’s personal access point to the general communication centre? Just imagine, you can connect with any person you want.”

“Like texting!”

“With emoticons?” Cas smiles. 

“Exactly. Heavenly social media.”

“With profile page and cat memes?” I like this idea more and more.

“Anything we want!” 

“But wait… how do we explain it to souls from the past eras?”

“Easy.” Ash winks at Cas. “People have invented millions of ways to communicate with each other since the beginning of time. We can stick with anything usual for each period. Like, Shakespeare won’t need to use a phone, pigeons will fly to him through the window, bringing the message. “Hey, William, I’m your biggest fan from 1978. Can I come for a cuppa tea to discuss The Merchant of Venice?” And some hairy dude, who lives in a cave, will see new petroglyphs appear on the walls. You get me?”

“Ash…” 

“Yeah, I kinda came up with this long ago… You break into someone’s Heaven, and sometimes they’re not very happy to see you, they don’t know, what the hell is going on. I remember Jimi chased me around the room trying to hit me with his guitar, thought I was a particularly vivid hallucination…” he adds dreamily. “So yeah, it’s way better to be able to send a message first, you know? To be connected, in general. And if you guys gonna break all the loops…”

“Ash. You’re genius! You really can do this?”

He shakes his head, adjusting his luxurious hairstyle.

"Already wrote an algorithm”

***

“They are truly so full of light” He’s just finished his conversation with the last one of the newly created angels, and he looks contented, considering the peaceful smile on his face. “Jack, they are wonderful”

“Of course. I intended them to be like you.”

“Like…” his eyes widen in astonishment. “Like me?”

“Yes.” I say simply. “You’re the best example I know.”

I feel his emotions. They overfill him, shine with the sparkle in his eyes, brighten every wrinkle on his face, warm the air through his skin. 

The light. The love. 

“Guardians, shepherds.” I continue. “Born to protect the peace and prosperity. Not the blunt instruments of war.” 

“Jack…”

“All with a little too much heart. But no one will ever call it a crack in their chassis”

***

It doesn't look like a decoration anymore. Now I know what makes Heaven a Heaven. 

People’s emotions. Feelings of joy, security, serenity. Warmth of loving hearts. And freedom, of course.

We are standing on the top of the mountain, mesmerising view of all the work done lies in front of our eyes. Castiel takes the last piece of broken wall, lying in front of his feet, it fades and shrinks in his palm, until vanishes completely.

“That’s it” He smiles. “You did it, Jack”

“No,” I shake my head. “WE did it. I couldn’t have done this without your help and support. Without your faith in me. Thank you”

I mean it. Everything I did, everything I’ve become. Impossible without him.

“Thank you, father”

We hold each other, like we used to. I’m sure, this is not our last hug, but it feels like the most important one. I put all my love and gratitude, all my devotion into this embrace. I want him to feel, to know, how much he means to me, that nothing has changed in my feelings for him. He is my father. And forever will be.

Angels, new and old, stand behind us, their wings shine in the light, casting glare on grass and trees. Сalmness and confidence on their faces, they are beautiful in their might and purity. I did a good job, I must admit.

“And now” I say, pulling back to look into Castiel’s eyes “We deserved a little celebration, don’t you think?” 

“Agree” he smiles.

I click my fingers.

It’s the familiar bar. We appear, and the air explodes with loud cheering noises. 

“What…” Castiel starts, but gasps with amazement.

It’s a good company, it’s the part of our found family. I don’t know all of them in person, but I’m familiar with their stories, all so important and irreplaceable. 

Red haired woman is the first one to attack Castiel with a hug.

“Charlie!”

“Hey, big guy!” She laughs, bumping his shoulder. “Looking good, bitch!”

“Yeah… I-“

He has no chance to finish, Kevin attacks him next.

“Kevin…”

“Okay, okay! Back in the line, kid. Have some respect for the elders!” Bobby pushes him aside laughingly, and he and Mary step closer for a hug. 

Castiel is bewildered, I think he might cry, but he holds himself together good so far.

Pamela, Mick and Jimmy finish the circle of greetings. Jimmy looks a bit awkward, like he’s not sure, if he has the right to be here. This is weird. Sure he has!

“Cas looks a little strange without his trench coat, don’t you think?” I hear from behind. I smile to the familiar voice. 

“Hi, mom…”

Her hands are delicate and warm on my cheeks, she’s beaming with love.

“Hey, baby”

***

Everyone’s busy with yelling their drink orders to Jo and Ellen, Ash turns on the music box, as if bar isn’t full with cheerful chatter and laugh already. Cas and Kelly are the first ones to get their drinks, and now they stand aside, chatting cordially with each other. My mom and my dad. I don’t interrupt, they surely have a lot to talk about. And I… 

I need to talk with a mother, too. But not with mine. There she stands, my dearest friend and my biggest regret, my horrible mistake and undeniable fault. And she smiles to me.

“Hello, Jack”

I can’t speak, her voice made me numb. I just look, I keep looking into her blue eyes, trying to find an accusation in them, sorrow, at least, but I don’t see anything alike. She is smiling her softest smile.

“What, you’re not even gonna give me a hug?”

“Mary, I…” 

“Oh, come here!” She pulls me closer and wraps her arms around me. Suddenly, words burst out from the inside, an endless stream of remorse and guilt.

“Mary, I’m so sorry! I am so sorry, I didn’t want it to happen… It was so terrible, and I… I didn’t mean to, but it was my fault. I…”

“Jack…” she tries to interrupt me.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry! Can you ever forgive me?” 

“Jack!” She holds me so tight. “Jack, it’s okay…”

“You deserved so much better, I’m so sorry…”

“I know.” She pulls back, looking into my eyes. “I know it was an accident. Please, stop blaming yourself…”

“But it was my fault!”

“Jack!” She cups my face with her palms, her voice is calm and soft. “I don’t blame you. So please, stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t even you, real you.”

The tight knot in my chest looses a little. I know her sons have forgiven me, but to hear it from her… it changes everything. I feel like I’m finally free.

“We all have our path, mine has led me here. And I regret nothing, Jack. I’m at peace, I am happy here.”

“But your sons…”

“I can wait” She smiles. “Now I know, we’re all gonna end up here. And now Heaven is just… perfect! Thank you for this.” 

Castiel is standing next to her, I didn't even notice how he came up closer to us. Mary puts her hands on our shoulders, squeezing them firmly.

“Thank you both! And if you want to do something nice for me,” she raises her eyebrows, looking me straight in the eyes “…make sure Sam and Dean die of old age lying in their warm beds, okay?!”

Maybe my eyes are sparkling with tears, but I nod, smiling broad and confident.

“Of course!”

“Not so difficult, considering that there’s an angel looking over them” she winks at Castiel, making him smile softly.

“Oh, about that…” I interrupt.

“What?”

“I think… someone is tired of spending his time, being a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent”

“Jack…” Castiel is looking at me with a slight confusion on his face. “What are you…”

“You still haven’t asked for your wings back.” I say quietly.

He hesitates, I can see the uncertainty and worrying in his eyes.

“I.. I just thought…”

“Because you don’t feel like you need them anymore.”

He looks down.

“Castiel?” Mary’s voice is gentle and mild, she leans to him, trying to catch his eyes. I guess… she understands. “Remember… remember that one night? I just got back from the dead, and I was so lost. We bumped into each other, in the bunker?”

He rises his head, looking at her attentively.

“Yes”

“I asked you, about the Earth, when did it start to feel like...like you fit, like you...belonged there? Remember? And you said…”

“I'm still not sure I do.” Yes..”

She smiles. 

“And now, after everything…? I know what you did, Castiel. For us, for our family, for humanity in general… and for him. Do you know now?… Do you belong?”

He looks at her with gratitude. His face lights up, as if the last piece of the puzzle has been found and snapped into place, making him complete. 

“Yes. I do”

“Well,” she laughs warmly. “Growing old must be fun. I don’t know, I never did!” She kisses his cheek. “Tell them, tell my boys, I’m happy here, tell them, I don’t regret a thing, okay?” They hug, and he nods into her shoulder. “And tell him…” she whispers cheerfully into his ear. “…tell him, he’s lucky as hell!”

Castiel can’t hold back the smile, and his cheeks flush with joy.

“Okay. Promise!”

Mary squeezes him in her arms once more and pats his shoulder, before walk off with a widest smile on her face.

“Jack. I…” he starts.

“I know.” He doesn’t needs to explain anything.

“Your grace is still in the process of being restored, but if you want, it can just ... vanish over time” I shrug and I smile. “Growing old with someone is what people do, right? Humans.”

He rubs his eyebrow with a soft and quiet laugh.

“Yes, they do…”

“And you both gonna eventually end up here, you and him.”

“Not the worst option, I guess” He smiles.

He looks at all the people in this small wooden bar, their faces are full of joy, their laugh is light-hearted. Company broke into unexpected duos, like Kevin and Ash, discussing some technical stuff over Ash’s scanner, or Pamela and Mick sharing their theories on the matter of astral projections. This will be the the most popular spot in Heaven, probably. But now…

“Tell me when you’re ready to go back.”

“Yes. Only need to collect all the messages from everyone, to pass them to Sam and Dean personally. Probably, not only to Sam and Dean…” he waves at Jimmy. 

“Of course! We have all the time in the world here”

“Yes,” he nods. “We’re not in a rush”

We’re not in a rush, father. Take your time, you deserve to spend it with people, who care about you. 

Both on Earth and in Heaven.

You are loved.

***

tag list:

@donestiel  @sinnabonka - @you-cant-spell-subtext-without - @casthyelle - @saltyghostsworld - @bebecas - @sammy-501 - @dtadeancas - @highvoltagejackles - @subtledean - @kaz2y5baby - @angelic-bee-enthusiast -  @bimiserables @gabrielle-main @acklesology  @highkey-dysphoric @lila-tom @teddybluesclues  @moonlightdeancas @transfoundfamily @bichaoticdean @transdean

[oddsnendsfanfics]

The (Mis)Adventures of Kal and Moose – Kal-entine's Day

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Warnings: Fluffy Valentine’s Day

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Because everyone needs Kal and Moose in their lives. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! 

Henry Cavill Master List

Valentine's Day.

A day of love.

A day of romance.

A day for couples to declare their undying love, while single people sat at home with a box of chocolate sulking.

For the last few years, Henry was the latter. He was no stranger to sitting home on “the most romantic day of the year”, feasting on some chocolate from a heart shaped box. Although he didn't recall much sulking.

You on the other hand, were never one to celebrate or sit in on Valentine's Day. Even single, you found an excuse to go out for the evening. Oh the looks you would get, while taking yourself out for a fancy dinner.

This year was different.

It was going to be low key, but no doubt still fun. The best part, Kal and Moose weren't home alone waiting.

“I'm going to need you to do me a big favour, okay pig.” Henry glanced down at Kal who was sitting by his side, watching every move Henry made in the kitchen. “You and Moose need to be the best boys that you can. No mayhem this evening.”

Licking his lips and yawning, Kal huffed as his tail thumped heavily on the floor. He was slightly insulted, when had he and Moose ever caused mayhem? They were the most perfect best boys, ever! What did Henry think he was doing, talking as if they were a couple of uncultured stray dogs.

Walking along the familiar street, you glance down at Moose, sniffing along Kal's street he huffed and picked up his speed. Almost there! A few more minutes and he would be with his best friend, romping and stalking that damn green ball that made that atrocious noise every time it moved. Tonight, maybe, just maybe, they would finally give that thing what it had coming.

“Are you and Kal going to be good?” You ask the unconcerned dog. “Hmm? Play with Kal's toys nicely and not tear Henry's house apart?”

Moose snuffled, whatever that meant. Of course they would be good, they were always good. Ugh, humans.

Stepping onto the front stoop of Henry's home, you asked Moose to sit while you checked to see if the front was unlocked. It wasn't surprising that you would simply walk in, if the door was unlocked. Henry rarely knocked at your place, most times he would be in the house and standing beside you before you took notice.

“Knock, Knock.” You call pushing open the door. Moose whimpers and yips, tugging on his leash. Unhooking his leash, you laugh when he jumps forward nearly knocking into Henry as he tries to get to Kal. “Remember boys, make good choices.”

“Good evening,” Henry smiles taking your coat and hanging it. “I uh, I'm glad you could make it over.”

“Of course, thanks for inviting us over.”

Wow, this was awkward. As much time as the two of you spent together, it shouldn't be this weird or awkward. Biting your bottom lip, you follow Henry into the house, stopping on the way to the kitchen to give Kal a nice scratch behind the ear. He and Moose were already at home on the couch, a few toys between them, as they happily sprawled out.

“Be good, Moose.” You wag a finger playfully at the red aussie, giving him a kiss on the nose. “Wow it smells good in here.” Inhaling deeply, you take a moment to appreciate the smell wafting from the kitchen.

Henry smiled proudly, quickly kissing your cheek. “Spiced fish and coriander rice, with peas.”

“Oh my god, this smells like heaven. Did you make this?”

“Of course.” Henry laughs slightly. “I can't promise it will be the best, but I think it has flavour.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You tug at the sleeves of your sweater.

“Have a seat? Sorry to rush you, but I wanted to get this on the table, while it's still hot.”

“Are you kidding? I will never feel rushed when there is food.” Laughing you grab the bottle of wine from the cupboard, along with two glasses and tote them to the table. The usually cluttered table is clear of all debris, a soft grey linen cloth draped on top, along with an arrangement of rather lovely scented candles. “I like the look. Going formal are we? Shit, I should have dressed up.”

“Non sense, you look lovely.” Henry chuckled, he had put more effort into the meal and table than he had planned. All last minute of course.

“And you look...” You glance at his casual jeans and tshirt. “I like that red.”

“Flattery?” Cocking his brow, Henry held back a laugh. Teasing you. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel fine, now let's eat.” You gesture to the plates in his hand. The fragrant smell is torture, it should be illegal to make you wait to taste food that looks and smells that good.

Seated, you can't help but sit inhaling the aroma wafting from the plate in front of you. Evidently Kal and Moose have picked up that it is dinner time, their respective paw steps coming from the living room. Attempting to look innocent, Kal slides in under the table his large body bumping against Henry's legs. If he is trying to be stealthy it is not working out. Moose takes a bold approach, sitting a few inches from the table he lifts his head and sniffs.

A low growling noise, he licks his lips and bounces to his hind feet before sinking back down into a sit.

“Moose, go.” You wave him away.

“Kal, stop licking my ankle.” Henry shakes his leg, Kal's cold wet nose hiking up the cuff of his jeans. “Kal, go on.”

“Moose, you know better.” Eyeing the dog you can't help but smile. “Worse than kids.”

“I would hope my children didn't hide under tables licking my feet.” Bursting into a laugh, Henry shakes his leg away from Kal. “Kal, go on. Go on boys, I will feed you after.”

Dejected and clearly starving, the two dogs slink back to the couch. At least they had tried for a scrap or even a scratch. Ending their plans, they sulk the entire ten feet that they walk. Poor dears. How ever will they survive? Knowing that dinner is waiting for them, you feel no guilt or sympathy. Spoiled is the only word to describe the pair of them. Worse than children, getting everything they want and acting like they are ignored when they don't.

“If you ever want to quit acting, I think you have a career in culinary.” You compliment reaching for the riesling that Henry had nearly expertly paired with dinner.

“There is more, I have a raspberries and cream or...”

“Wait, there is more? Oof, I may need a moment to let this digest.” You laugh lightly. Henry had gone all out this time. “You have really spoiled me.”

“I may be bias, but I think you deserve it.”

“Oh really? And why is that?”

“I have my reasons, all which are very good but escaping me in this moment. Trust me, when I say, I thoroughly enjoy getting to make you dinner. It's nice having someone to spend time with, especially today. It's been a while since I've had someone to spoil on Valentine's.” Henry picked up his glass, taking a drink of his wine. Licking his lips, he coughed lightly. “The last few years I have been making today all about Kal. Kalentine's Day, if you will. A nice bath, a good grooming, extra time at the park.”

“Sounds like a great way to spend the day.”  

“It may be a bit late for the park, but I could offer a nice bath. Perhaps a foot rub?”

“All would be acceptable, as long as you don't take Kal's approach. I'm not much into having my feet licked.” You can't help yourself, it sort of slipped out. Nearly choking Henry in the process. Wine sputtered from his mouth, avoiding spitting it on you, he manages a napkin. His face red and his chest heaving with a silent laugh.

“Noted.” He gasps, caught between surprise and laughter. “Well, dessert then?”

Henry had tried to clear the table without your help, as if. Little good did it do, the second he stood you were on his heels carrying your plate into the kitchen. He rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything about it. He had learned not to argue with you, it would be futile. Keeping his protests silent, Henry watched as you loaded the dishwasher, humming quietly.

Dessert plated, Henry motioned for you to lead the way to the table. As nice as the table looked, you were more than happy to relax on the couch - even if it meant kicking Kal and Moose, the poor souls, to the floor. Diverting course, Henry followed, the two of you chatting about the latest family gossips. He was telling you about his nephew Oscar, when you gasped and stopped short.

Nearly bumping into you, Henry caught himself and both of the desserts that he had in his hand. On the floor of his living room there laid the evidence. All around were pieces of red and brown material. White cotton stuffing littered the room and the look on Moose's face told you nearly everything.

“Moose,” You groan looking at the stuffing flung around the room. The Aussie looking innocent, yet the clump of red material in his mouth is giving him away. “You tore up Kal's stuffy.”

“Stuffy?” Henry's eyes widened. “Oh shit. Shit.”

“What? What's wrong?” You watched as he placed dessert on the coffee table, rushing the to tall shelf that sat behind his couch.

At least he still had the flowers, well shit. His face fell when he found them smashed to the floor and trampled.

“Well,” He rubbed the back of his neck, gesturing to the mess in his living room. “Happy Valentine's Day. I had planned on giving you a present, but...”

“Oh, Henry.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I'm so sorry. I... Moose!”

“No, no. It's fine. It's not entirely his fault.” He glanced at Kal, holding the head of the teddy bear in his mouth, “There is only one of them who could have reached it. Eh, bear?”

“Boys,” You sigh and shake your head.  “Wait,” You glance curiously at Henry, giving him a sly smirk, “did you say you got me a gift? It's not my birthday. Nor it is Christmas.”

“No, but it's Valentine's Day.” Henry shrugged debating to salvage the gift or move on. “I wanted to do something nice, since....well.”

“Oh! Right.” You can't contain the smile that overtook your face in seconds. “I um, I honestly thought this was just us having dinner as...well friends?”

“And it can still be that, absolutely.” Henry nodded. “I don't want to impose or push anything.”

Stooping to pick up a few pieces of what used to be a teddy bear, you scratch Kal behind the ears and take a seat on the couch. "You're not imposing anything. I just didn't know what we were. Or if we were anything. I thought that I'd come over as a friend and...you know what, let's not bother with this now. We can talk later, sit let's have dessert. I am dying to try this raspberry cream.”

Henry sits beside you, reaching for the dessert bowls, to find one empty. “Moose,” he looked at the dog with red cream on his snout. “I swear to god,”  laughing, he hands you a spoon. “Care to share?”

“Well, well, well.” You take the spoon shaking your head, playfully. “Henry Cavill is sharing dessert?”

“They destroyed your present and this is the only dessert, the least that I can do.”

“I wouldn't be against that bath,” You scoop some of the cream from the bowl, “but no feet.”

“No feet.” Henry laughed, his chest rumbling and his eyes crinkling. “Got it.”

[tllthesundies]

Anonymous said:

hi! i love the entertainment fic :) can you please write the part when they are celebrating louis’ birthday together, from harry’s pov?

–––––––

Harry hears the front door open, then close.

He remains indifferent as he stirs the small pot with pesto sauce in it to keep it from burning. He, also, keeps his eye on the boiling noodles in the bigger pot. But he’s listening to Louis’s footsteps and the jingling of keys in his pocket.

“Okay, rockstar,” he hears Louis’s voice, becoming louder the closer he approaches. “I know I take care of everything, and I recognise that you live in the middle of no man’s land, but I didn't actually think I'd have to include a lesson plan on keeping your doors locked. Things happen, even out here.” He pauses, and although Harry keeps his vision on the food, he sees Louis in his peripheral lean against the counter beside him. He’s wearing his jean jacket, some grey band t-shirt on underneath, and pairing it with boyfriend jeans. “I mean, it's California.” Harry can’t help sparing him a brief look, anyhow, quirking an eyebrow as he stirs the pesto. He doesn't respond to Louis. Louis watches for a moment before pushing himself away from the counter to instead lean his hip against it. He sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner,” quietly and casually replies Harry. He turns the heat for the spaghetti off. “I thought we could eat while we plan. Are you hungry?”

Louis nods.

“Haven't had anything since lunch.”

Harry glances back at a cabinet somewhere behind Louis and points to it. “Do you mind grabbing plates for us and setting the table? They're in that cabinet.”

“Yeah, sure.” When Louis disappears, Harry takes the pot to drain the noodles. “Do you want a specific colour?” he decides to ask Harry.

“Um,” hums Harry over the sound of pouring hot water and wet noodles being dumped into a strainer. “Honestly? I'm feeling teal.”

As Harry finishes draining the noodles, pours pesto sauce on them and mixes them, and finishes the vegetables, he glances repeatedly, briefly, at Louis. He sees him with teal and olive green plates and sets them up on Harry’s table. He, also, tries offering help, but Harry shuts him down immediately, each time, and sends him to just sit at the table. His hands shake just a little bit when he puts each food back into their respective pots–the ends of his nerves are on burning ice and he can’t make himself look at Louis for very long, if at all. He’s just on edge for the truth he hasn’t told him, but he takes a silent breath to clear his head.

“Most of everything,” Harry says, after he’s set everything on the table and gently plops into the seat beside Louis.

Louis blinks up at him.

“What?”

Spooning noodles onto his plate carefully, Harry repeats, “Most. You take care of most things.” He offers the spoon to Louis with a small smirk ghosting his lips.

Louis breathes out a soft chuckle, taking the utensil from Harry.

He shakes his head in reply.

He waits until everything is on their plates to take off his jean jacket. Harry watches him remove paper from inside a pocket, then hangs it on the back of his chair. Louis unfolds it, glancing up at him. “I don't know what you've got planned,” he begins, “or anything, but I made a list, anyway, to help jumpstart ideas. You know Calista, so, I kind of presume you know what she likes. But—just in case.”

Tentatively, Harry takes the list Louis gives him. He swallows as invisible as possible, and his eyes roam over all of the ideas Louis’s written down: Frozen themed - extremely popular concept still; Pink strawberry theme; Typical animal zoo theme; the birthday party concepts keep going on and on, and the longer Harry continues reading the list, the more those icy ends of his nerves burn more. It becomes overwhelming for his chest, and–he has to tell the truth. There’s too much devotion and dedication in this list to keep his façade going. Leaning back into his chair, he finally gathers the courage to look at Louis, and says, “This list isn’t going to be useful. Don't be mad at me.” Eyebrows narrowing, a puzzled look comes across Louis’s face. “I lied to you.”

The fork in Louis’ hand halts.

He blinks slowly at Harry.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why am I here, then?”

For a split second, Harry’s confidence wavers. There’s a hesitancy he can’t help having, and one he’s not used to controlling – and as observant as Louis is, he probably sees the moment he wavers. And the controlling side of Harry hates that possibility. But he looks Louis directly in the eye, runs a hand through his hair, and speaks in a quiet voice. “It’s your birthday in just a few days. I—I wanted to . . . give you some kind of celebration to show my”–the words continue getting stuck in his throat; he has to spit them out, to warm them up–“. . . appreciation for everything you’ve done.” He pauses, to gauge Louis’s reaction. He looks–unsure; wondering; still confused, albeit a little more understanding. “Look, I’m not the best at, uh—expressing my feelings for people. Not that I have feelings. But”—he rubs an eye with his knuckle, becoming frustrated with himself—“you know what I mean.”

He took Rachel’s advice, but maybe he went too far this time. He lied to get Louis to agree to this. He lied because he didn’t know any other way to go about this. He doesn’t know how to just–outright ask someone such a simple thing like hey, I want to celebrate your birthday, would you like to come over? And it’s far more awkward because he purposely hasn’t been the most pleasant to the exact person he wants to celebrate.

He’s trying.

Probably in his own twisted way, but he’s trying.

And the silence from Louis stretches for far too long – to the point Harry gets uncomfortable. But he doesn’t show it.

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis says, after some time, words just above a whisper.

“Say nothing,” Harry chooses for him. “Consider this a . . . I recognise your hard work, Louis. You’re always on time, prepared, and organised. I’ve never had to tell you how to do your job, and that takes a lot of pressure off of me. So, thank you.” That last part stings his throat when it comes out. But not in the wrong way. “Again, consider this a congratulatory party for two. Nothing more.”

Louis stares at him.

“How did you know?”

“Résumé,” Harry simply answers.

A small beat of silence.

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “I never put my age or date of birth on any résumé.”

“Résumé,” Harry repeats, intentionally curt.

Harry’s not going to tell him from which source he acquired the information from. He wouldn’t blow Niall’s cover like that. Niall had questioned him plenty enough when he had called him. Why do you want to know? Niall asked, even though he had already given the information to Harry. I just want to be nice, is all Harry answered with.

He wasn’t lying.

“Fine,” Louis replies cooly. “Creep.”

Harry puts on an unimpressed look, staring directly into Louis’s eyes as he chews his food. After swallowing, he says, “That’s a big accusation coming from someone I could fire.”

Louis smiles, smug.

“See, that’s the beautiful thing . . . you can’t fire me,” he retorts.

Harry shakes his head, and he fights the muscles in his face that are around his mouth that desperately are trying to lift his lips at Louis’s reply. He can’t let that happen. His mind races with other topics to bring; with other distractions.

“Listen,” Harry says, “I have a cake for you.”

“Where?”

Harry shakes his head again.

“We have to make it,” he tells him.

Louis looks cautious. “What flavour?”

“Chocolate.”

A pleasantly surprised look crosses his features. “That’s my favourite,” he says. “Lucky guess?”

“You could say that.”

Dinner continues quietly. The ends of Harry’s nerves have started to warm up, evaporating the icy burn and replacing it with a normal temperature. His heart stops beating inconsistently and begins functioning like a normal human being. However, the same icy feeling starts to show itself in Harry’s mouth; words flow uncontrollably out of his mouth. Harry’s not a talker. He knows how to talk. He knows how to respond to people, and how to maintain conversation, but he doesn’t generally start the conversations unless he has no choice. Louis looks a little amused by him, but he does his best to ignore it. He, also, tries to get Louis to talk about himself, so, that he has some semblance of control over his mouth, but it doesn’t work.

Harry notices Dolly sauntering into the kitchen in his peripheral as he loads the dishwasher. She has her mustard yellow turtleneck on still that Harry had put on her this morning, her collar matching impeccably. She comes right over to Harry and peers into the dishwasher, but Harry scratches behind her ear as a warning before gently swatting her away.

She mews loudly at him, offended, she wanders over Louis.

Harry rolls his eyes at her.

“Look what you've done,” Louis speaks up.

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he messes with the controls on the top of the dishwasher.

Snorting, Harry opens a drawer and slings a clean dish cloth over his shoulder before making his way over to Louis. “She's just mad I wanted to keep her from hurting herself,” he tells Louis. “She'll come around in ten minutes and act like it never happened.” He lifts a hand and gently caresses Dolly’s neck. But Dolly tries to hide from him by burying her face into Louis's armpit.

Louis laughs, surprised.

“Oh, no.”

Harry just puckers his lips and gives her an air kiss, and chuckles, smiling. “She always comes back.”

Louis bends his head and drops his gaze to Dolly. Harry watches the gentle way he rubs the top of her head and the rest of her body. He’s so much more familiar with her than when he had first met Dolly. He had been jumpy, a little scared. Now, they’re friends. Harry turns his head away and walks to the pantry.

“So, I've got,” Harry begins, and stops. He grabs the chocolate cake box he sees hiding on the top shelf, and stretches his arm up to get it. The matching frosting container is nearby, and he grabs it, too. He reads the back of it before continuing speaking. “Chocolate frosting. And”—he draws out the word until Louis rolls his eyes, telling him to get on with it; Harry's composure breaks, a grin breaking across his face as he stammers out his words because of his breathy laugh—“could you get the eggs out, please?”

Louis probably thinks he’s annoying.

It’s all on purpose.

Louis squats down to release Dolly from his arms. She jumps out of his grip, but remains by his feet. He washes his hands, first, then puts the eggs he retrieved from the fridge on the island.

Harry comes up beside Louis who’s reading the instructions on the back very carefully, and just dumps the oil, cake mix box, and frosting next to the eggs

Harry finds his measuring cup, and gives it to Louis to use for the oil and water. Louis asks him senseless questions; if he wants to do the eggs, et cetera. Louis has him sniff the inside of the cake mix bake to see if it smells good. It’s very chocolatey. And while he lets Louis do whatever he wants with the cake, he searches through his playlist to find music to fill the silence, so, he doesn’t have to talk too much. He finds Louis a bowl, a pan to fit the mixture into, and preheats the oven.

Harry sticks his finger in the bowl last minute, making a pop sound upon releasing his finger from between his lips.

“That’s really tasty,” he says.

Louis’s unimpressed.

“Tell me that when you get salmonella.”

“Can't wait.”

Louis shakes his head.

As they wait for the cake to fully bake, they work together cleaning all of the dirty utensils and bowls. They clean the island. Dolly stays silently crowding their feet. Harry can feel Dolly rubbing her head against his ankles, then attempts to climb onto his feet to lay down on them. Harry internally sighs.

“Look,” murmurs Louis.

Harry hears a smile reflecting in his voice.

He doesn't remove his gaze from the whisk he's washing.

“I know she's there. I'm ignoring her.”

Then it happens very fast:

Harry feels a small puddle gather on his feet and the bottom of his pants that cling to his skin. He hears Louis’s shocked laughter, but he doesn’t look at him as he breathes in a sharp breath to calm himself. Every fucking time.

“She—”

Harry's eyes close in pain. “I know. I wish I could say this hasn't happened before.”

While Louis’s still giggling and picks Dolly up from his feet, Harry excuses himself to go change his pants, then reemerges to find Louis feeding Dolly from the palm of his hand.

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, a single eyebrow raised.

“Better?” he asks.

“No,” Harry answers immediately. He pulls out the chair beside Louis, turns it around to sit backwards in it. He crosses his arms on the back of it, and gives Dolly an annoyed look that she ignores entirely in favour of the food she nibbles on in Louis's outstretched hand.

Still highly amused, Louis smiles, looking at Harry. “She's fine. Why'd she do that?”

“She does it when I'm absent too much” Harry explains. “In her cat mind, she thinks if she vomits on me, I'll be forced to clean up after her and take care of her. I don't know. Cats are—they have strange minds. I just think it’s only my cat because she has anxiety problems.”

Closing his parted lips, Louis shifts his gaze over to Dolly. She's trying to bite down on a hard piece she got. Harry watches them both. “Did you want to, like, watch something?” Louis asks, glancing briefly at Harry. “While the cake bakes?”

Harry nods.

“What do you have in mind?”

Shrugging, once, feebly, Louis says, “I don't know. Maybe a movie? Comedies are nice.”

Harry stands from his chair, and pushes it back in normally. “It’s your birthday; you get all the privileges of picking and holding the remote.” He walks past behind Louis and into the front room, and sits down in the left corner of his settee.

After letting Dolly tackle the last couple of pieces of her cat food into her mouth, Louis picks her up and takes her with. He tucks his left leg underneath his right one when he sits down on the settee. There's a space between their bodies that isn’t too enclosed to make Harry uncomfortable; and he averts his gaze to the television, so, that he won’t continuously stare at Louis in his peripheral vision. He can’t keep doing that. He can’t keep–looking at him more than he needs to.

It’s dangerous.

Harry places the remote in Louis's outstretched palm.

Louis shifts through channels for too long; and when he enters Netflix, he spends too much time reading each and every description.

“By this rate,” says Harry, breaking their long held silence, “the cake will be ready before you settle on something.”

Louis turns his head, tilting his head in a look. “Well, I'm not much of a TV person, to be honest,” Louis admits. “What do you recommend?”

“I told you,” says Harry, staring straight at the television still, “your birthday, your choice. . . . But . . . if you really want a recommendation . . . There's Something About Mary is a very good romantic comedy.”

Louis blinks. “What's it about?”

“This guy Ted — Ben Stiller plays him — wants to reconnect with his old prom date back from high school he had a massive crush on, so, he hires somebody to track her down and . . . it's, like, really messy, but what rom-com isn’t? It's a hundred times better than it sounds,” Harry promises him.

Louis seems to consider it.

Then he nods.

“Sure. Let's watch that.”

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he stands from the settee. “You sure?” he asks.

Harry kneels in front of his small but wide bookcase full of DVDs. He quickly looks over every case until he finds the one he’s looking for. Turning the player on and popping in the disc, he returns to his spot on the sofa. Harry’s seen this romcom a thousand times, so, though he keeps his eye on the television, he doesn’t try to catch up with everything that plays out. Instead, he listens to Louis’s laughter, and distracts himself by dragging his forefinger across his lips for something to do. When the stove timer goes off, he jumps up to get it, and Dolly follows behind him.

“It's done,” Harry calls out. After he puts the cake on the counter on top of a dish cloth, he tests the idle with a toothpick. When he looks up to see where Louis is, he finds him by Harry’s walls of picture frames, cradling Dolly in his arms as his gaze roams. Harry decides to act indifferent and let a hard feeling pass through his stomach, and raids through his pantry to find the frosting. “Louis. Where's the frosting?” Harry feels Louis come up beside him a moment later. “I gave it to you. Where could it have disappeared to?”

Taking a step back, Louis stretches an arm out to open the freezer door. He reaches in, and then he closes it to hold the small container of frosting towards Harry, in the air. “Right here,” he says, wiggling it when Harry looks at him, gaze falling on the container. “I put it in the freezer.”

Harry pauses, lips parting. “Why did you put it in the freezer?”

Louis raises both brows at him in a way that the answer should be obvious. “Because room temperature frosting is disgusting? It's only good when it's cold.”

Gently, he tosses it on the island.

Harry's eyebrows pull together as he steps back and pulls the pantry door closed. “Uh—I hate to inform you, but frosting is good no matter what temperature it is,” he says in a vaguely defensive voice.

“Now you're just being gross,” comments Louis, looking briefly at Harry when he situates himself in front the cake, his lightheartedness subtle. Harry chooses to just busy himself with removing the cake from the pan, turning his back to Louis. “Oh, no.”

Harry turns around.

“What?” Harry asks.

He sets the plate full of cake beside Louis on the island and peeks at what Louis has in his hand.

Louis turns his body in an angle, towards Harry, and demonstrates the issue. Holding a knife in his hand to scope some of the chocolate frosting out, he goes at it — but he's stopped, and it's impossible to get any, because the knife is met with nothing but brick. “It's frozen,” Louis says.

Harry blinks a few times.

“Really?”

“Shut up,” he retorts. He glances around before walking over to a cabinet to retrieve a bowl. “Couldn't we use a microwave? Unless you're willing to wait an hour for it to thaw. I know I rather not.” Setting the bowl down, next to the frosting, Louis takes it in his hands and attempts to shake it out into the bowl first. Harry just watches him – and he pauses for a second, because he notices a small freckle on the upper part of the side of his neck. He’s lost count, now, how many freckles Louis has.

“I thought you hated warm frosting.”

“I do, but if we put it in for just a few seconds it won't matter,” Louis reasons.

Harry watches him shake it and realise that method doesn’t work. He proceeds to lay it upside down on the lid and hits it hard. Then he tries squeezing it before attempting to pry the container from the edges of the frosting.

The corners of his mouth tilt downwards in a frown.

“It's going to take more than a few seconds,” Harry comments, and takes the frosting from Louis. He bangs it against the edge of the island, the sound visibly startling Louis. The solid block of frosting falls right into the bowl Louis had gotten. Harry gives him a smile as he walks past Louis to the microwave that sits on the counter to the left of the refrigerator and slides it in. Harry doesn't take it out until it looks like it's thawed entirely, then pulls it out with a hot pad. Coming up beside Louis, he pokes his index finger in the frosting and sucks it into his mouth. “Not that warm.”

He pokes another finger in it.

Louis waves his fingers away from the frosting, and he uses the knife from before to taste it. The temperature appears to be okay with him, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“It's really good,” he confesses quietly to Harry. He puts his knife in the dishwasher full of other dirty utensils and grabs clean knives and forks to use and separate plates for Harry and him. “I don't want to put any frosting on it, by the way,” he adds.

Harry pauses.

“What? Why?” He pulls his eyebrows together in confusion, and looks at Louis instead of the cake. What kind of person doesn’t want frosting on their cake?

“I prefer to have it on the side and dip the cake in the frosting,” Louis explains. “It tastes better to me that way.”

For a few moments, Harry stares at him, and Louis stares back, a little challenge in his face. His assistant is weird. But he can work around it. So, he nods, saying, “We can do that, no problem.” Then he remembers: “Wait.” He walks over to a drawer a few feet from them and rummages through it until he pulls out two things: a large pack of single candle sticks, and candle numbers 2 and 7. “Can't forget these.” Harry sticks the numbers right in the centre, then surrounds it with twenty-seven of the fifty count of blue candles. It's a very crowded cake, and crumbly and has new cracks added into the old ones because of the force of all the candles. It’s ugly, in Harry’s opinion; the cake, the stereotypical candles, how bare and destroyed it all is – but when he lifts his head to look at Louis, into his blue eyes that have specks of green and grey, his chest eases. Stops. Momentarily. This . . . isn’t so ugly.

Quickly, he lights all of the candles. “Okay,” he says upon lighting the last one, and sets down the lighter. “Make a wish.”

Louis ends up staring at his face instead of blowing out the candles right away. He searches Harry’s face. And Harry doesn’t know what to do besides stare right back. Finally, Louis tears his eyes away and leans down, blowing out the candles. They leave a trail of smoke in the air and a very distinct candle stench that Harry hates. But Harry pretends, and chooses to clap him for and whistle. Louis laughs at him, something soft and something high that pulls at Harry’s chest. He starts picking the candles out of the cake, and Harry notices a soft tinge of pink colouring the apples of his cheeks.

Harry doesn’t know why, so, he ignores it.

Louis cuts the cake and gives the first slice to Harry, then gives one to himself. Harry suffocates his slice in frosting very carelessly. Dolly retreats back to them and tries to rub her face in the bowl of chocolate and what's on their plates, but Harry grabs her with both of his hands and tucks her underneath his arm. She struggles to free herself the entire time; Harry ignores it. Even when they sit back down on the sofa to continue watching their movie. Harry doesn’t see it coming when Dolly whips her paw around and slashes at his skin, causing a long and bright red scratch down his forearm. He lets her go immediately, pissed off.

He sees Dolly strut right into Louis's lap, and walks in circles before settling down to rest on his thighs. Her relaxed exterior pisses him off more.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, concerned, eyes full of concern.

Harry’s jaw tenses. “It burns,” he answers truthfully, “but I’m fine. She's just in a mood today.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a frown on Louis’s face when he glances down at Dolly, but he doesn’t say anything further. Harry chooses to suck it up and finish eating his cake while ignoring Dolly. The scratch thankfully never bleeds, as they finish the rest of their movie, eating the entire cake by themselves. Louis doesn’t finish the next slice he eats, but Harry has no problem eating the rest of it for the both of them.

Harry's licking the icing off his fork when he looks at Louis. The half piece of pure cake is still there on Louis’s plate. “What did you think?”

Louis's eyes flicker up at him, meeting his gaze. Breathing in a soft breath, he nods his head.

“It was good; I liked it. I love Cameron Diaz.”

“Me, too,” Harry admits. “She's very nice.”

“Have you met her?”

Humming, Harry nods once. “Met her on the red carpet at some award show. I think I have a picture.” Louis huffs out a chuckle. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

Louis stays silent for a moment, then shrugs and rests a hand on Dolly, whom lays sleeping in his lap. “Sure. But you pick this time.”

“It's still your choice,” Harry reminds him.

Breathing out a purposely heavy annoyed sigh, he says, “I choose you to pick the next thing we watch.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Sure, it is. It's my birthday.”

Harry stares at Louis, pressing his lips together. It becomes a staring contest between them. It goes on for several moments until Harry blinks and looks away. “I can't argue that,” he says, finally.

“Exactly,” quips Louis, as he gently drops the remote in Harry's outstretched hand, palm turned up.

They watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s, then when Harry turns on Meet the Parents, he notices Louis’s eyes start closing. He repetitively glances out of the corner of his eyes at Louis, watching him nod off until he’s sound asleep. Harry’s chest grows soft as he stares at Louis’s tired, pale face. His thin lips are slightly parted, like he should be snoring. Him and Dolly both sound asleep on each other is a rather humourous sight. He decides to leave Louis be and turns his attention to the television to watch the movie. There’s something . . . oddly comforting about the silence; Louis sleeping beside him, the hum of the telly, the filling sensation that encompasses the silence. It’s not so lonely–not so what Harry’s used to. By the end of the movie, he grabs his own plate and stands up, then does his best to grab Louis’s without disturbing him. But Louis’s eyes flutter open at the accidental brush of contact that Harry internally curses himself for. Louis straightens out his very tilted sleeping position, and looks up at him through squinted eyes.

Harry gives Louis a genuine apologetic look, and quietly says, “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Louis delicately rubs his eye with the back of his right hand, and stretches his legs, breathing out a tired sigh. He blinks his eyes a few times to adjust. “It's fine,” he rasps. “Sorry I'm falling asleep.”

“Don't apologise,” Harry gently tells him.

He continues off to the kitchen. After scraping off pieces into the rubbish and rinsing off their plates, he lays them on the counter, then hesitates. The image of the gift bag still in the other room floats to the forefront of his mind. He looks over his shoulder at Louis, and finds him distracted by Dolly, and makes a quick decision. Harry speed walks to the other room on silent heels and grabs Louis’ gift bag, then makes his way back into the front room. Louis looks up the exact moment Harry approaches him, and the movements of his hand combing Dolly’s fur stop when his eyes fall down and spot a white bag in Harry's left hand.

“What ‘ave you got there?” His tone is careful.

Harry sets the shopping bag right in his spot, close enough for Louis to reach into. Harry sits on the edge of the settee on the other side of Louis, at an angle facing Louis, and he looks him directly in the eyes. “I thought I'd give this to you, before you completely black out on me,” he says. “It's not really a celebration without gifts, too.”

Louis pushes himself up to sit straighter. “Harry . . .” He looks at a loss for words – lips parted on nothing; uncertainty scaling his face and eyes; touching the bag’s thin, black handles like it’ll burn him. “You didn't have to get me anything. Dinner, movies, the cake, I'm perfectly content just with that.”

Harry presses his lips together lightly and nods. “I know,” he says, forcing his gaze to not leave Louis's. “But I want to do this for you. Don’t make me repeat myself; I’m not good with complimenting people. Just accept it.”

“Harry—”

“Fucking accept it,” he says.

Glancing between Harry's face and the bag, Louis touches it again.

He leans forward and peeks inside. It’s covered by black, decorative tissue paper, and Harry watches him use both hands to remove all the tissue paper.

He knows the second Louis sees it. He pauses, gaze unblinking and widening just enough for Harry to catch. He sees the backpack from Givenchy Harry had gotten him. That was . . . another thing he managed to get out of Niall. Louis’s allegedly been so back and forth about buying it for himself that Harry decided to choose for him. It was extremely easy to find, and even easier to buy. It was probably the easiest gift Harry’s ever had to shop for. But–he didn’t think it was enough; he had bought a bag of Reese’s, as well as wrote a check out for Louis and put that in the backpack for him. Maybe it would make up for everything, Harry’s hoping–maybe it’ll . . . Harry shouldn’t be hoping for anything, really. But after Rachel had a talk with him and made him feel like a shitty person, he’s hoping this’ll convey Harry’s guilt. Or apology. Louis might not recognise it as that, but that’s okay.

“Open it,” Harry instructs softly.

Louis quits just staring at the bag and unzips it. Suddenly, he looks up at Harry and smiles at him, face glowing in happiness. Harry can’t help the smile he gives him in return. Louis backs down and–a little laugh is pulled out of him. Harry’s eyebrow furrow, a little, in wonder.

“What's so funny?” Harry asks.

Louis pulls the bag of candy out to show Harry, without speaking.

Harry's gaze shifts from Louis to the treat, a confused but amused smile splitting across his lips. He . . . doesn’t understand. It’s candy. Harry shrugs like what about it? and Louis shakes his head in response and mumbles never mind. Setting the candy down beside Dolly, he grabs the check.

Louis scoffs, shaking his head as he begins to read it, and asks, “How much is this?”

But he abruptly stops, face falling.

“Five thousand dollars,” Harry casually answers, despite his heart picking up pace again. Louis lifts his head to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. Is it too much? Is it too forward? Did Harry cross a line? Maybe he was wrong for buying Louis his dream backpack and a check. But if he just stuck with the candy, then Harry would look like he put in the least amount of effort in. And this is the line he struggles with: either going too far, or not doing enough. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Louis answers immediately. Then he releases a breath, knowing he’s full of it.  “This is too much, Harry.”

Harry blinks, then stamps on his racing heart and pulls out his detached face. “Louis,” he begins, stern, “don’t even start. That?”—he points to the check—“That is pocket change to me. We’ve gone over this. I have more money than I’ll ever know what to do with. I don’t see better use for it than for charity and for using it to buy whatever you want. Don’t feel bad about me using my own money. Eat the rich, or whatever they say.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Louis asks.

Harry pauses.

“Yes and no. But that’s a different conversation for another day.”

Louis blinks, breaking his gaze from Harry. Harry watches him closely, and waits for something. Louis’s face is concentrated; furrowed eyebrows, a far away look in his crystal clear eyes. He’s thinking something, and as much as Harry would love to get inside that pretty little head of his, he merely settles for waiting. Dolly comes poking through, however, weaving herself effortlessly and expertly through Louis's arms. She throws her arms up to cling to the opened backpack, and stands on her hind legs to peer inside. She stuffs her entire head in it, and it breaks Louis out of whatever it was, making him chuckle.

Harry just shakes his head.

Louis wraps his fingers around her legs to pull her back out of his backpack, but she clings hard. Harry  finds himself laughing softly at the image before him, and he intervenes quickly. He softly scratches behind Dolly's head, then transitions into wrapping his hands around her bottom. He picks her up upside down, successfully having Dolly let go.

Harry pulls her to his chest.

Louis's small chuckle turns into a giggle, and he shakes his head. He reaches for his phone on the coffee table, and Harry watches his face change to realisation.

“I have to go,” he announces.

Dolly falls out of Harry’s grip and runs away.

He looks at Harry.

Harry puts on an unreadable face. “You have to go?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Louis responds as he stands up. “I have a flight in the morning. Remember? I have to get up really early, and triple check all my belongings. It’s a long flight, so, I’ll need some proper rest.”

“All right,” Harry agrees. He walks first to the door, with Louis following suit, after placing his backpack back into the bag, along with the check. “When's your flight?”

“Hm,” Louis hums. “I think 7.45 in the morning.”

“Harsh,” Harry comments lightly. He lifts his hand to rub at his neck a moment. “I hope it's good. Tell your mum I said hello.”

Louis nods. “I will. And I hope it is, too.” There's a slightly awkward pause, on Louis's end. But it doesn’t last. “Listen . . . I want to thank you for—”

Harry interrupts him.

“No problem.”

“You didn't have to,” Louis points out. He's clearly not going to let Harry wave it off. “You didn't have to do anything at all, but you did. I just want you to know that it's one of the nicest things someone's ever done for me, and that I really, really appreciate it.”

Louis looks at with the most serene face, conviction in his tone. It causes Harry to be temporarily weak.

“You're welcome,” he says in response, hands clasped behind his back for something to hold on to.

Harry doesn’t see it coming – Louis steps forward with confidence, coming into Harry’s personal space, and raises himself onto his toes to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Those icy nerves return alight and burn him. He’s paralysed for several moments; all he registers is the faint scent of floral notes reaching into his nostrils and brushing against his nose hairs. It’s not overwhelming; it’s the perfect aroma of flowers and fruitiness. Based on his own colognes he’s sampled and bought before, this one could be YSL – or maybe it’s ones he’s seen, such as Lancome. They carry a lot of floral perfumes. Either way, it’s very pleasing. And before he can think, he sneaks his arms around Louis’s small waist–it’s much smaller and slimmer than it looks–and spreads his fingers across the bottom of his spine and the middle of his back.

It’s only a moment later Louis pulls back.

Even though Louis doesn’t look at him, he can’t stop staring at Louis, completely dumbfounded.

“I'll see you in a couple weeks,” says Louis, smiling, when he looks up at Harry. “I'm a text and phone call away if you need anything, okay?” Louis raises a pointed eyebrow at him, giving Harry a look. “Don't hesitate, okay? I won't mind.”

Harry nods.

He’s not going to, but he’ll pretend for Louis.

“Got it,” he says, pressing his lips together.

The pointed look remains on Louis's face.

“I mean it,” he presses, to ensure his message is across.

Harry rolls his eyes and straightens out his posture. “I know,” he sighs. “I’ve survived nearly a decade without you, so, I don't think anything I can't handle is going to happen in the time you'll be gone.”

Louis throws his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, I didn't say you couldn't handle any one thing. I implied quite the opposite, actually,” he corrects.

Harry plays along.

“No need to rub my already swollen ego.”

Louis smiles, huffing out a small laugh. It’s the softest expression he’s ever seen on a face. It’s so caring. Harry doesn’t–understand how he can be so gentle. “Never happy with anything, are you?” he teases.

Harry smiles. “Nope,” he says. “Comes with being a perfectionist. And just being me, in general.”

“I see.” There's silence that falls over them like a blanket. Harry’s hoping Louis will take the cue and leave, but he stays. “What do you plan to do for Christmas?”

Harry blinks.

“I don't know,” he answers. “I don't do much for Christmas, really. I don't celebrate it.”

Louis raises an inquiring brow. “Because of religious reasons, or . . . ?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone. He’s certainly not going to discuss it with Louis. “Nah. Just don't celebrate it, that's all,” he answers, giving Louis a small smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Not even with your parents?” Harry shakes his head, choosing not to say anything more. With that, Louis drops the subject. “Don't forget to—”

“I'm kicking you out,” Harry says, tone flat, and a finger pointed to the door behind Louis.

He walks around him and opens it.

“You're kicking me out?” Louis repeats,, smiling and now standing so close to the door frame, as he keeps his gaze on Harry, whom now leans against the side of the red door, arms crossed and one foot hooked around the other.

Harry nods vigorously, eyebrows risen.

“Get out. Right now.”

“Fine, I'll leave,” says Louis, raising his hands as he walks out onto the stone walkway, “but not because you're threatening me; but because I want to.” He keeps on walking down the small set of stone steps and across the path leading to the driveway.

“Louis,” Harry calls out without thinking, just going on the feeling of restricted air in his chest. Louis looks over his shoulder, as his hand pulls his car keys out of his pants pocket, and his strides slow. He stares at Harry with patience, and it’s the last thing Harry wants to see in his face, because he won’t be seeing him for a while. “Merry Christmas. Happy birthday. Have a safe flight.”

Louis’s mouth curves up in a gentle, genuine smile.

“Thank you. Happy New Year,” he calls back.

Harry closes the door two-thirds of the way, not willing to let go of the sight of Louis quite yet. He needs to see him get safely in his car and drive away – he can’t let that feeling go. The restriction in his chest worsens when he watches Louis open his car door, but it eases slowly when Louis looks back. In fear of coming off creepy, he closes the door. But he stays behind it to listen to the engine start – to see the red lights reflect against the windows and the distant sound of his car fade until Harry can’t hear anything anymore. Then he turns around, inhaling a deep breath when his vision lands on Dolly sitting on her bum patiently by the stairs, watching him.

“Dolly,” he says – she tilts her head – “Am I too much?”

Dolly mews and walks off.

He’s always changing himself, changing his style, his image. He’s either always too much or not enough; there’s no healthy balance. Maybe he’ll try working on it in Louis’s absence, so, he doesn’t have to fret over it every time he says or does something he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t want to scare Louis off.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Day Off

(Story Post)

Ollie hadn't had a real day off in a long time. Sure, he only worked Monday to Friday, but he spent most of his weekends babysitting for Jeffrey so he hardly ever got a chance to really just do whatever he wanted all day. When a true day off did arrive, it almost felt too good to be true. This particular Saturday, Jeffrey wasn't working and said he'd take Ben to the aquarium, so Ollie could be baby free. The day started on a pleasant note. Ollie woke up with a heavy arm wrapped around his torso, so he turned over and checked on his sleeping companion. Korsy was sound asleep, drooling all over Ollie's pillow. The agent had shared that he didn't often sleep well when he was out on field missions, so Ollie didn't try to wake him, and just slid out of his grip to get up. They weren't serious. Korsy travelled too much to want to commit to any one person, and Ollie didn't like dating. They just both enjoyed sex with the other, so Ollie didn't mind sharing his bed when the agent was in town. Recently, Ollie’s libido had been really high as well so he was rather excited when Korsy hit him up. He slipped on some boxer briefs and hobbled tiredly into the living room. Jeffrey hadn't left yet for the aquarium but he was up and getting himself and Ben some breakfast. He frowned when be saw Ollie come out of his room.

“I heard you,” Jeffrey said. “You're gross.” Ollie made a ‘zip it’ hand motion before sitting down at the kitchen bar counter. “I have needs. Right now, I need my coffee…” Jeffrey sighed and just opened a cupboard to get some cereal for Ben. The baby sitting in his highchair just stared at Ollie. “Shit, we're out of Cheerios,” Jeffrey said, sliding the box back in-between the other cereals. “Hey, don't put it back!” Ollie complained. “Throw it out!” Jeffrey rolled his eyes and set the box aside. He looked through the cupboards. “Do we have anything else for Ben?” “There should be a new box of Shreddies up top,” Ollie said pointed as he got up to start his coffee. Jeffrey sighed and tried reaching up to the top shelf, but he was shorter than Ollie and didn't have the same access. As he did so, Ollie noticed Jeffrey's shirt roll up his torso and a bit of a pooch poked out. Ollie tensed. “No.” “Hm?” Ollie leaned over and slapped a hand onto Jeffrey's stomach suddenly. “No!” “Ow! Ollie, what the fuck?!” Jeffrey huffed, pushing his cousin off him. Ollie scowled and pointed at him. “Don't tell me… You're not pregnant again, are you?” Jeffrey frowned and lowered his shirt. “…No.” “Then explain that,” Ollie demanded. “No.” Jeffrey backed up. “Jeffrey! I swear to god, if you're pregnant…” “It's just fat!” Jeffrey insisted. “Don't lie! We both know you couldn't gain weight if you ate an elephant,” Ollie said. “How? How did this happen? You said Bler left you!” Jeffrey frowned and crossed his arms. “I met a guy…” Ollie shook with anger. “When? Who?!” Jeffrey huffed and looked away. “He's a friend of a friend from group… He's very handsome.” Ollie shook his head. “I thought they said you couldn't get pregnant again without Bler's influence.” “Well, I still have the powder he gave me,” Jeffrey said. “It's in the cupboard.” “What?” Ollie started going through the cupboards. “Where?!” When Ollie had the right door open, Jeffrey leaned in and grabbed the container of powder. “That?” Ollie took it and looked it over. “This is protein powder!” “Yeah, except it's not?” Jeffrey said. “He just put it in that container.” Ollie put it down, a shiver running down his spine. “But I… I’ve used this.” “Why?” Jeffrey huffed. “You shouldn't use my stuff.” “I thought I bought it!” Ollie said. “I buy this brand for my workout smoothies… I gave this out!” “To who?” Jeffrey groaned. “Um, that guy that dropped you off the one time?” Ollie tried to remember. “Tall, dark hair… Uh, the teacher.” “Dax?” Jeffrey shook his head. “I can tell him, I guess. Why were you giving it out?” “I—I dunno, we started talking about fitness stuff and I told him my routine because he liked my calves,” Ollie said. Jeffrey frowned. “Were you flirting with him?” “Maybe? I dunno… You said he was a friend of a friend from group! Is he the guy who did this?” Ollie asked, poking Jeffrey's stomach. “Ew, no! He’s so old!” Jeffrey groaned. “He's with one of the guys from group!” “Shame…” “Ew, Ollie! He's way older than us!” Jeffrey complained. “I'm ten years older than you, dumbass. He’s probably only a few years older than me.” A second later, Korsy moseyed out of Ollie's bedroom scratching his chest and went over to steal Ollie's coffee. “Morning.” The cousins just stared at him. “What about Korsy, then?” Jeffrey probed. “What about me?” Korsy asked. “Yeah, what about him?” Ollie asked. “You literally hate Korsy.” Jeffrey huffed. “Yeah, but… Korsy, Ollie's been flirting with older guys!” Korsy raised an eyebrow. “…Um, cool?” Jeffrey threw up his hands. “You're not jealous or anything?” Korsy tilted his head. “Oh. Okay. One sec.” He raised a finger and took another sip of coffee. Then he set the mug down and put on a sad face. “Oh no, babe! How could you?” He grabbed Ollie's arm. “Flirting with other guys? Am I nothing to you?” Ollie pulled back his arm and pushed Korsy away. “Shut up.” “You don't care at all, do you?” Jeffrey sighed. “We're not dating,” Ollie said. Korsy shook his head. “Ollie could get himself an older guy if he wants, as long as he’s loaded. He doesn't deserve any less.” He took another sip of Ollie's coffee. Ollie put his hands on his hips. “Jeffrey's pregnant.” Korsy nearly choked. “What?! Right now?” “No, tomorrow. Yes, now!” Ollie said. “But Bler's gone!” Korsy said. “How far along are you?” “I don't know yet, but I met someone else,” Jeffrey frowned. “Why does it matter?” Ollie motioned to the room. “Look around you! Where are you going to put another baby? You're not keeping them here! We're full up! No vacancy!” “You have this one,” Korsy said patting Ben's head. “Why do you need another one?” “Because I want another one. I want Ben to have someone to play with,” Jeffrey said. “I’ll move out.” “Yeah, you will,” Ollie said sticking a finger in Jeffrey's chest. “Because if you have this new kid, that's it. You're out.” Jeffrey was taken aback. “Why are you being so mean about it? You like Ben.” “I love Ben!” Ollie said. “This isn't about Ben, this about you! You did this on purpose, Jeffrey! We're already struggling enough trying to balance taking care of one kid here, where he doesn't even have his own room. I can't keep this up. You can go live with your baby daddy.” “I can't,” Jeffrey whined. “He doesn't have his own place.” “Seriously?” Korsy knit his brow. “Who is this guy, anyway?” “Um, his name's Wano…” Jeffrey muttered. “Wano? I've heard that name…” Korsy pulled out his work phone and did a quick search. “For fuck's sake… This guy?” He showed his phone to Jeffrey with Wano's profile on it. Jeffrey nodded. “Yeah… He's really nice.” Korsy sat down and rubbed his forehead. “Are you kidding me? This is too perfect…” “What's wrong with the guy?” Ollie asked, taking Korsy's phone. “Another alien? Are you serious?” “I like him a lot and he likes me,” Jeffrey defended. “Wano's being deported literally at the end of July,” Korsy said. “Off planet.” Ollie slammed the phone down. “Are you fucking kid—How stupid are you, Jeffrey?! Another deportee?” Jeffrey picked Ben up out of his chair. “Don't yell at me in front of Ben! You're horrible!” “I can't do this anymore,” Ollie said. “Get out.” Jeffrey froze. “What?” Ollie pointed to the door. “Pack your bags and get out of my apartment.” Korsy placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ollie, calm down. Let's be rational.” “No! I can't tolerate this anymore,” Ollie said. “He's lived here rent free for years, but he's been so ungrateful and taking advantage of my charity while pulling dumbass decisions like this, and I could accept Ben because he didn't even know he was pregnant, but this time he's knocked himself up intentionally for selfish reasons, and I won't play host to the stupidity! I want him out today!” Jeffrey just teared up and stood there trembling. “Ollie, I don't have anywhere else…” Korsy stepped in and took Jeffrey’s shoulder, directing him towards the bedrooms. “It's alright… I can get you set up at APID for now, okay? Get some overnight stuff together…” Jeffrey nodded and shuffled off with Ben to his room, mumbling about the aquarium. Korsy watched him go and then turned to the cousin leaning back against the counter. “You're really kicking him out like that?” Korsy asked. Ollie wiped his eye. “I can't handle this anymore… I can’t… I love him, but he's been nothing but a burden… I have my own life I'm trying to live, and it feels like I was forced into parenthood with him because he can't make smart life choices. I didn't ask for any of this. Fuck, I…” He looked at the container of powder. “Shit. I should see a doctor. I don't know what that shit could've done to me...” “What?” Korsy followed his gaze and picked up the container. “What is this?” “Bler's…bullshit,” Ollie spat. “Shit, what if I…” He covered his face. “Korsy…” Korsy stared at him, trying to understand the implications of Ollie's words. “…No, you… Don't think about it.” He took the container and shoved it under his arm. “We'll have a doctor look at you and study this stuff. You're probably okay, right? Don't worry.” Ollie shook his head and sobbed. “I can't handle any of this… Why is my life such a fucking mess?” “I'll take Jeffrey to APID, and I'll talk to a doctor there for you,” Korsy said. “If they think it's urgent, they'll probably fit you in today, okay? Just relax.” “It's my day off… This was supposed to be a good day…” Ollie whimpered, wiping at his eyes as tears swelled. “I can't have anything go right even once…” Korsy pursed his lips. “Just… It's okay.” He gave Ollie a hug and rubbed his back. “It's okay.” Jeffrey's bedroom door opened again, and he came out with a backpack, a diaper bag and Ben in his arms. “Car seat’s in Ollie's…” Korsy let go of Ollie. “Can I get your car keys? I'll run them back up before we go.” Ollie just nodded and handed over his keys. He didn't look at Jeffrey. Korsy went over and took the bags from the young man before walking him out. Once Jeffrey was in the hall, the agent popped his head back into the apartment to look at Ollie. “You sure about this?” Korsy asked. Ollie nodded and picked up his mug. “…Empty. Asshole.” “I owe you a coffee.” “Yeah.”

[willowbird]

For the prompt game — could you do AU 1, trope 8, location 2 for Andreil? I always love reading these, thanks for sharing!

Grad School, return of the childhood best friend, inside Andrew's closet!!! Thank you so much for sending in the ask I'm glad you're enjoying the little ficlets and I hope you like this one too!

-----

Tall people were a curse. A blight on all of society. Civilization would undoubtedly crumble under the obnoxious stomping of their huge feet and the polar ice caps would melt at least in part due to the heat from their big fat heads.

Also, all the tall fuckers in Andrew's cohort were constantly putting things in places Andrew couldn't reach, especially when it came to the supply closet off of the office the group of them communally used. It had gotten to the point that Andrew had taken full command of the ordering and organization of all their supplies. Last month he had even gone so far as to print out and laminate a full-color sign for the closet that read: NO ONE ABOVE 5'3 PERMITTED. SEE ANDREW J MINYARD FOR ALL SUPPLY RETRIEVAL.

The only reason he'd given the extra few inches at all was because Robin, the undergrad TA that assisted in one of his classes, sometimes helped him out and she was a whole three inches taller than him. It was enough of a restriction that it barred the rest of his cohort from intruding, though, as even Renee was a solid 5'8.

Or at least, it should have been an effective restriction. Andrew had thought the rest of his team could read well enough to get the goddamn message. Then he showed up this morning and the fucking closet door was open and where was the box of printer ink he'd ordered last week?

That's right, on the top fucking shelf.

When Andrew figured out which idiotic fucking beanpole had decided to pull this shit with him there was going to be hell to pay. He would raid his cat's litter box for ammunition if he had to.

For the moment, though, he needed to replace the ink in both printers. Which was why he was balancing precariously on the arms of the only non-rolly chair on the goddamn floor, straining to reach the box of ink and quietly promising to take an extra dose of revenge out of each and every person over 5'3 if he fell.

Which he almost did when a sharp knock suddenly echoed a bit too loud from directly behind him.

"Jesus fuck what is wrong with y--" Andrew cut off abruptly as he looked over his shoulder to see who had dared come up behind him at a time like this. He blinked, then he fully closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. When the man before him was still fucking there, Andrew twisted slightly and jumped down, letting his ass hit the seat as he overbalanced on the landing.

"Um... hi."

It had been almost ten years since Andrew had heard that voice. Ten years. In that time Neil had gone from being a scrawny, anxious kid to... well...

Vivid blue eyes stared at him steadily, winged with eyeliner that only made them brighter. His dark russet-auburn hair was shaved close to his head on the sides but long enough on the top that he'd gathered it back in a loose bun, which only emphasized the perfect angles of his face and the soft give of his mouth, the way his chin carved down to a point as if to frame it, drawing the eye.

"Andrew? I didn't mean to surprise you. Well, I did, that's why I didn't tell you I was coming. I didn't mean to almost make you fall off a chair though..."

Neil clicked a tongue-piercing against his teeth. It flashed silver for a moment, matching the two bars that bisected his left eyebrow. Purple studs and a line of tiny hoops trailed up each ear.

Andrew stared, then he did the only rational thing and reached forward, grabbing the doorknob and slamming it shut with himself inside the closet.

His heart was fucking pounding, and he knew his face was flushed because, look. Look. Neil Josten at fourteen years old had been a scrawny kid with big ears and a chipped tooth that was always covered in bruises and Andrew had been so fucking in love with him. All he ever wanted to do as a baby gay was kiss Neil Josten. Thought about it all the time. But that had been off the table because Neil was his best friend and probably asexual and also literally trying to survive. When Neil moved to the other side of the fucking planet to be with his uncle, Andrew had told himself that this was a good thing because 1) Neil would be safe and 2) if there was distance between them then Andrew could finally get over him.

Over the last ten years they'd exchanged regular letters, but because Neil was a fucking technophobe and there may or may not have been an actual hit from actual hitmen and gangsters and shit on him over here in the states - they hadn't spoken on the phone and no pictures had been shared.

And now here was Neil. Almost twenty-four and... so so fucking hot.

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by a quiet, anxious, "Andrew..?" that sounded a lot more like the Neil Andrew remembered.

"Um... should I go? I'm sorry... I thought... I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry. I'll go..."

"No!" The word escaped him before he had time to really think about it. He was pretty sure his voice cracked a little in his desperation too. Shit. Andrew cleared his throat and tried again. "Just... wait. I.. need to get ink."

"Okay."

Andrew did his best not to read into the mystery in Neil's tone. Instead, he thanked the closet gods and carefully climbed back up onto the chair. Another couple of minutes later he had the ink he needed and was facing a coming out he really never anticipated having to go through. Coming out of the closet to your best friend was one thing. Coming out of the literal, actual closet you have shut yourself in to reunite with your super hot best friend that you've been in love with for over a decade at this point was quite another.

Ripping the band-aid off was really the only way to go, so Andrew took a deep breath, put his free hand on the knob, and opened the door.

Neil had repositioned himself and was now leaning against the nearest desk. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows exposing strong forearms decorated with swirls of dark ink. Three fingers on each hand bore rings (not the ring fingers, not that Andrew was specifically looking) and his nails were painted a dark, glossy gray. Around one wrist was a frayed bracelet that perfectly matched the one Andrew also wore on the same wrist.

As soon as Neil saw him, he lit up. A smile on his face that shined in his eyes, even if there was a slight hesitance to it - understandable considering Andrew had just.. you know... shut himself in a closet after seeing him.

"Hey... Sorry again, about that. I know you don't like to be startled. I just... I got excited."

Andrew swallowed, a tough feat with a throat so dry. Somehow, he managed a snort. "Like a puppy. Should I be worried about my floors, Josten?"

"I dunno, you gonna scratch me behind the ears?" Neil shot back, and the smirk that accompanied it was fucking devastating. That's is, Andrew gave up. He lost. Dead, he was dead. There was no way he was getting out of this one.

Andrew did the only thing he could do to keep himself from grabbing the little bastard and kissing him senseless, which was ask the big question hanging in the room between them.

"How are you here, Neil? I thought you'd never be able to come back to American soil."

Neil rubbed the back of his neck, like he was thinking of the best way to explain it. After a moment he said, "Uncle Stuart still doesn't think it's a great idea - but there's no price on my head anymore. As of last month we cleared out the last of... well, let's just call them the old bad guys. There are new bad guys, but they don't really care about me."

It took a moment for that to fully sink in. Andrew set down the ink on the desk and moved to stand directly in front of Neil. When Neil stood up straight, they were almost exactly the same height - Neil only really had a few inches on him. At least he hadn't been lying to make him feel better when he'd told him in a letter a few years back that he'd topped out at 5'3.

"So? Don't you have a whole new life over in jolly old England now? Friends and family who don't regularly try to kill you? Why come back at all?"

He knew why, but he wanted - he needed - to hear him say it.

"Yeah, but... they aren't you."

"Me."

"Yeah, Andrew. You."

Their eyes met. Something in Andrew's chest snapped like an overworked rubber band stretched too taut and all the carefully sequestered feelings it had been keeping at bay suddenly sprang forth like a tidal wave. They rushed through him, filling him up, buoying him until he probably could have reached the top shelf of that goddamn closet without the chair.

"I hate you," Andrew ground out. And Neil smiled, because he knew it wasn't true.

"I missed you, Andrew. I missed you so fucking much."

"Shut up, stupid." Andrew forced himself to take a deep breath, then he snatched up Neil's hand and started dragging him out of the office. "Come on. We're getting ice cream."

Neil laughed and squeezed his hand. "Some things never change."

No, Andrew thought, some things never do.

[writing-freak]

BNHA Soulmate AU Week Day 1: The Ticking Clock

(GIF credit to its owner!! :) )

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: 2,726 (haha oops)

A/N: Here we are, kicking off the first day of my BNHA Soulmate AU Week!! Today’s fic is a timer fic, where a timer on your wrist counts down the time until you meet your soulmate! Poor reader has a clock that has been on zero since before they can remember, meaning they may never know who their soulmate is. I had a crap ton of fun writing this (a lot more than I probably should have haha), and I hope you guys like it! Remember, I’m taking soulmate au headcannon and imagine requests for BNHA characters in addition to the 6 other fics I have planned this week! So stay tuned, tomorrow we have a red string au with Tamaki coming! If you want to be added to this week’s taglist, or have a request, let me know! Thanks for reading! :))

Masterlist

In a world filled with hope, you had learned to give up on love a long time ago.

While the rest of the world sat on the edge of their seat, waiting for the timer to hit zero, ready for the rest of their lives to begin with the one they were meant to love, you tried your best to ignore the clock on your wrist.

For while Mina had confided in you that hers was down to under a year, and Momo complained that hers was still just under a decade, you could never relate to the anticipation of the clock running out, of the first meeting of your one true love. Cause yours, for as long as you could remember, had always been zero.

As you got ready to hang out with your friends, changing from your school clothes to something casual, you tied a little scarf around your right wrist.

Most people covered their timers, no matter how exciting they found them. At school, the long cuffs of your uniforms covered up the ticking clock, but on your own time, you could get creative. You knew others who wore sweatbands or bandanas, hair ties or bracelets. But tonight, the small scarf covered your greatest disappointment pretty well.

By the time you were old enough to understand the concept of soulmates, you asked your parents who yours was, if you had already met them. Since you couldn’t remember, they should have then, and for many years of your life, you found yourself blaming them for denying you this part of your life.

But they had been just as upset as you. They had tried so hard, they told you. Tried to keep an eye out for you when the timer was getting close to running out. According to their story, they had taken you to the park, and about three minutes were left when you ran off, slipping out of their grasp.

When ten minutes passed, they were so freaked they nearly called the police. But you came running back to them, arms open wide, and no matter how much they pestered you, they couldn’t figure out where you had gone, or who you had happened to meet.

For a few years, you tried your hardest to remember that day in the park, but you didn’t even remember a park, much less a person you met there. You had been two, three maybe, and you simply couldn’t form the memories.

And you had theories, ones that involved a hopeful future, a future where you actually found the person you were meant to be with. Your two best friends, Midoriya and Bakugou, you had met before you could remember, and when you were younger, before you lost all hope, you liked to fantasize about finding out it had been one of them all along.

But you knew better than that, and like everyone else, their marks were always hidden when you saw them. Soulmates were never something you guys talked about, and by the time you were off to middle school, you learned to give up on that fantasy.

Your soulmate was out there somewhere, but you’d never know who they were.

Fixing your hair quickly, you rushed out the door. You were meeting Bakugou in his room, and he hated it when you were late.

As you waltzed into his dormitory, opening the door without knocking, you could tell by the look on his face that you hadn’t made it in time.

“Haven’t I told you to never be late when you make plans with me?” Bakugou growled, his body nearly sparking with anger.

“Oops,” you said, not sounding apologetic at all, and hopped onto his bed. “Excited for movie night?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. “You’re lucky you’re getting a movie night at all.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” You grinned. “Would it be okay if I could invite Izu?” you asked, putting on your best puppy dog face. You pouted your lip as he looked at you, scowling at your expression.

“I’m not watching a movie with that nerd,” Bakugou scoffed, making you pout harder.

“Please?”

“Tch.” You could tell he was wavering, but by the dangerous look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t very happy about it.

“Yay!” you exclaimed before he even said yes. “I think he’s going to bring Uraraka too!” You jumped on the boy, hugging him tightly.

He shoved you off of him roughly, and you fell back on the bed. “You already invited them!”

You giggled sheepishly. “But you still agreed to it, so everyone wins either way!”

Bakugou rubbed his forehead, clearly frustrated. “Fine, but I’m inviting Kirishima.”

“Yay! A party!”

“It’s not a party, dumbass,” he said, but he still reached out for your hands, helping you up from the bed.

“I’ll go pick out a movie!” You went over to a shelf in Bakugou’s room, where he kept a collection of some of his favorite DVDs.

As you looked through the movies, you kept stealing a glance in Bakugou’s direction. He was getting the TV ready, getting blankets and pillows out for the others that were coming to join you. You knew he didn’t like hugs very much, and you hoped you hadn’t upset him by hugging him earlier. But despite how often Bakugou reminded you verbally how your touches made him angry, he always had let you hug him, squeeze his arm, or rest your head on his shoulder.

You never really were an overly touchy person, and it wasn’t common to find people who weren’t soulmates hugging each other or being overly affectionate, so you never really knew why you had been with Bakugou. When you were around your other friends, you tried to hold back, though, worried they’d find your friendly affection to be inappropriate.

“Oi!” the boy you were thinking about suddenly shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Don’t you have a job to do? Quit staring!”

Your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, you turned back to the DVDs, refusing to say anything.

Luckily, there was a knock at the door just then, and Bakugou left to go let the others in. Izuku, Uraraka, and Kirishima came into the room, each giving you a cheerful wave as they settled in. You quickly fished out one of the films on the shelf and leapt up to welcome them.

As you handed your pick to Bakugou, he gave the smallest of smiles in approval, causing your heart to leap in your chest.

“Hi Izu! Uraraka, Kirishima!” you greeted, smiling brightly. The others smiled in return, the smallest sending you the biggest grin and a little wave of his own. When you noticed his arm was bandaged, you poked it with curiosity. “Izuku, what did you do to your arm?”

Deku scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I broke it again during training.”

You sighed, but had no words for your tiny friend. You knew nothing you could say would stop it from happening again at the next training session, and then again at the one after that. (Trust me, you had tried. Often).

After Bakugou chastised Deku for hurting himself (in his own, heartwarming violent way), everyone settled into their positions for movie watching. You found yourself squished between Bakugou and Kirishima on the bed, with your backs against the far wall, while Izuku and Uraraka shared a blanket on the floor, their backs resting on the side of Bakugou’s bed, just below your feet.

During the movie, Bakugou’s eyes were glued on the screen. You had made a good choice, and you could tell by the peaceful expression on his face (one that was all too rare) that your friend was enjoying himself.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t focus on the movie in front of you. You spent too much time thinking about the boy beside you. And when, about halfway through the movie, Kirishima’s bandana around his wrist shifted, and you could see the clock ticking down, you lost any hope of concentration.

Cause no matter how long you had spent knowing there was no hope, it hurt so bad to be reminded of it, especially when Bakugou’s shoulder was glued to yours, the warmth of his arm comforting, but a constant reminder of what you would never have.

No matter how much you knew you should move away, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and instead, leaned into his touch even more. He was so warm, and for once he was still, and…

~

You woke to someone poking your face. “Hey,” you mumbled, struggling to open your eyes to what was around you.

When you did, you realized you were still in Bakugou’s room, which was still empty, except for the blond boy, whose shoulder you were currently rested on.

“Sorry,” you said, laughing lightly as you lifted your head. “Did everyone leave already?” you asked, moving away from your friend and laying your head down on one of the pillows, stretching your legs out the length of the bed. You yawned, closing your eyes again, giving in to the struggle of trying to keep them open.

“What, did you hate the movie or something?” he grumbled. You could feel his eyes on you even with yours closed.

“I’m sorry Suki,” you said softly. “I’m just tired.” You yawned again, proving your point.

“If you’re tired, you need to go back to your dorm.” He shoved your arm, but not hard enough to send you tumbling over the edge of the bed. You were grateful; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done that before.

“But I’m too tired,” you whined, snuggling even more into his pillow. When Bakugou let out a defeated sigh, you knew he wasn’t moving you anytime soon. He plopped himself down in the bed too, about a foot away from you, facing away from you at the wall his bed was up against.

“If you keep me awake…” he warned, and you laughed in response.

A few more moments, and you realized you were now wide awake, staring at the ceiling as you listened to the breathing of your friend beside you. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but then you heard a heavy sigh next to you.

“Suki?” you said softly, poking his back lightly as you turned to face him. But he didn’t turn around.

“I didn’t want to watch a movie tonight with all those extras,” he grumbled.

You giggled softly. “They’re not extras. They’re our friends.”

“I wanted to watch a movie tonight with you.”

Your smile faded, and you pulled your hand away from his back. He was still facing the wall, and you desperately wanted to see his face, to see what he was thinking right now. “Kat-”

“But you’re not my soulmate.”

And in that moment you knew what he felt about you, and he knew that you felt the same way. But there was nothing you could do about it, the frozen clock on your wrist and the ticking clock on his proof of that. His words were permanent, and you realized then that any fantasy you had ever dreamed of was simply that. A fantasy. He was not your soulmate.

“It’s not fair,” you choked, clutching the back of his shirt as you rested your forehead on his back. You knew you would never have anything like this, and the thought that one day, he would find his true soulmate and he’d leave you behind, alone to deal with the fact that you would never have one of your own, left you trembling against him. “It’s not fair.”

You laid like that until you fell asleep, you sobbing against his back and him using all of the power within him not to turn around and pull you into his arms.

~

When you woke up, you couldn’t move.

You wiggled a bit, but you were locked tightly in place by a pair of arms that were most certainly not your own. Your eyes opened wide as you realized who you were snuggled up against, your head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you, and your legs tangled together at the end of the bed.

“Katsuki?” you asked, lifting your head to look up at your friend’s face just above you. Your struggling had woken him up, and he was blinking his eyes as he noticed your position on the bed.

He groaned when he met your eyes, rolling over as he attempted to untangle himself from you. He was still tired, and you guessed that was why he was groaning instead of yelling, but you were happy about it all the same.

You laid your back down on the bed as he pulled his arm out from under you, trying to calm your racing heart. Your cheeks were on fire, and as you finally found the courage to sit up, you couldn’t look your friend in the eyes.

Instead, you looked down at his hands. But his right arm, which he had just pulled out from under you, was missing something you had never seen Bakugou without. His bracelet, his leather band he never went without.

It was a cruel trick, to show you your friend’s tattoo for the first time after you had spent the night cuddling and admitting your feelings. Except, as you read the tattoo, your heart stopped beating in your chest.

0 years, 0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 0 seconds

“Katsuki!” you gasped, grabbing his wrist. “Your timer!”

But Bakugou yanked his hand from your grasp roughly. “You don’t need to remind me!” he yelled, making you realize that he wasn’t too tired to scream. He shoved you away as you reached out again, and sent you nearly off the bed.

“But-”

“What happened last night was nothing,” he said, already shutting down. “I’ll never know my soulmate, and you’ll go and find yours and none of this will matter. Just leave me alone, already! It hurts enough to think I’ll never get what everyone else has. I don’t need to be thinking about the fact that you belong to someone else!”

“Katsuki, look!” you finally yelled back, untying your scarf and shoving your wrist in his face. He froze as he saw the frozen timer on your wrist, identical to his.

“What?” he breathed, his own hand trembling as he looked again at his wrist.

“I was too young to remember my timer running out,” you told him. “I met my soulmate when I was a baby, I’d always thought it was someone I’d never know…” you trailed off, looking up at him, meeting his crimson eyes.

But Bakugou had no words, and he stared at you in shock as you realized that you had never had to look far for the person you were meant to spend your life with. You were looking right at him, and no fantasy could compare to the way your heart soared at the thought.

He was suddenly on you, latching his lips to yours frantically, his arms secured around your waist. Before you toppled backwards off the edge, he leaned back, pulling you with him by the hips, until you were on top of him, his back leaning against the bed.

You sighed into the kiss, tears of relief streaming down your face and onto Bakugou’s beneath you. Your hands were on his face, and threaded in his hair, and his were wrapping tighter around your back, pulling you as close as he could.

The kiss was everything, every hope you each had spent years locking away. And when you finally broke for air, you buried your face in his neck, hugging him as tight as you could manage. His arms squeeze you as he held you on top of him, and you let yourself sob freely into his neck.

“Why the hell are you crying?” he asked, peppering kisses on your hair, your ear, your shoulder.

You pulled up, looking down on him with a smile on your face. “I’m just so happy.” You have no idea, you almost said, but as Bakugou gave you a smile of his own, reaching up to give you one more peck, you knew he did, one hundred percent. “I’m just so happy it’s you.”

Taglist: @anything-and-everything-here69​

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shadows And Pills - 1

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it. If you have any questions, please feel free to message me or send me an ask.

Thank you to @thoughtslikeaminefield and @glassjacket . I would not have made it through this story and would honestly not be here today with the two of you. I will never be able to tell you how much you mean to me.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills

1

Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all.

Alexa comes away with a shadow.

In the weeks following the disaster, the public equally lauds and decries the Avengers, but while their opinions are divided over the heroes, the villain is universally denounced as nothing short of Satan himself, and the city throws an actual celebration the day Thor takes Loki back to Asgard to face the justice of their people.

Alexa, having not turned on her television since the day she got home from the hospital, ignores the boisterous celebrants and goes about her shopping, earbuds firmly in place, frown lines now permanently etched between her eyes and around her pinched lips.

“Routine will help you through some of the worst days,” her therapist tells her during one session. “Something familiar and safe to retreat to when the flashbacks are the worst. Just give it a try,” he adds at her disbelieving grimace.

And so she sets a routine.

Morning Routine: wake up. Ignore alarm, lie in bed an extra thirty minutes or so. Shower. Pretend to eat breakfast. Take meds (this one she never skips or shirks). Find something to wear. Stare at it for another ten minutes. Eventually get dressed. Contemplate keys for another fifteen minutes. Leave the goddamned apartment already.

Her routine has varying results, although she does admit to her therapist that life is marginally more bearable with the routine than without.

“It’s nice to have something to look forward to for the next day.”

Her therapist can’t quite hide his grimace at her flat, deadened tone, but she’s not being sarcastic or rude. She finds that going to bed at night is a trifle easier when she knows what’s going to happen the next day.

“So, who are we up to today?” the doctor asks, switching the subject with awkward abruptness. It’s been six weeks since Hell came to New York, and during their twice-weekly meetings, her therapist suggests going through each of the people she saw die in front of her that day, to get closure...or say goodbye...or something.

Sometimes Alexa wonders whether he just wants to hear the details for his own perverse pleasure.

“Brenda.”

Alexa robotically begins to list the personal details she knows...knew...about her floor manager. Unlike the mail room intern she discussed at their last meeting, the list for Brenda goes on for a while. She’s worked with Brenda since she started at the company, learning most of what she knows about her current job from the woman.

Brenda was kind, sharply intelligent, and mothering to everyone under her supervision, and yet she did it in a way that didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. She balanced work and a family long and well enough to both receive regular promotions within the company and also, very recently, become a new grandmother.

The backs of Alexa’s eyes sting as she remembers the photo Brenda showed her not twenty minutes before part of the building collapsed on top of half the department. Her jaw locks as the scene plays before her eyes again, the explosions and shrieks of metal drowning out the shrieks of the people only five feet away.

She closes her eyes, but there’s no pause button to freeze the scene, no power button to shut the images off as she turns in her memory and runs, making it to the stairwell and slamming the door open, turning back and screaming for Brenda, straining her eyes through the smoke and dust and mountains of falling debris. Brenda is running, reaching for Alexa even though she seems miles away, and then one of the file cabinets is thrown over, propelled faster and harder than should be possible, and...and…

And then Brenda isn’t running anymore. Her outstretched hand, the only part of her that wasn't crushed by office furniture, spasms against the ruined carpet, as if it thinks it’s reached its destination and is grasping at its savior.

Alexa’s hand tingles, and her fingers lock into her palm, nails fitting easily into the little grooves she dug there weeks ago. No blood, she only dug that deep once, but the furrows remain as permanently etched there as the frown lines on her face.

Alexa struggles to take in a labored breath as her therapist watches her with the appropriate amount of professional, clinical sympathy and detachment.

“Do your counting,” he reminds her.

How could she forget? She counts to three once, letting a breath out at the end. She repeats the process twice more, ignoring her therapist’s brief flash of annoyance at her departure from his “system.” But, for once, he doesn’t ask her why she has to deviate from the standard one-to-ten method and just lets her do the goddamned counting in peace.

Small blessings.

“Have you had any flashbacks since our last session?”

She stares at him, letting her gaze rest heavy and disbelieving as she turns his question over. She’s been averaging about five flashbacks a day, triggered by everything from accidentally brushing a stranger on the sidewalk (Jim knocking past her to get down the stairs just as the door on the stairwell behind her explodes inward; more shrieking, then falling, then dark) to lifting a carton of cold milk from the shelf at the grocery (that impossibly cold hand grasping hers, pulling her up from the rubble, bringing her face to face with...something...something in the...shadows, it was so dark there, and…).

“Yeah. I’ve had some flashbacks since our last session.”

“What sort of coping strategies did you use?”

He’s not even meeting her eyes now, just getting notes down on that damned pad. The scratching of his pen grates into her bones, and Alexa grits her teeth as she glares.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

She slowly recites the list of strategies he suggested during a previous session, none of which have proven particularly effective at lessening the frequency of the episodes, but most of which she grudgingly admits provide some slight relief afterwards and allow her to refocus her mind on the present rather than dwelling in the memory.

“And the shadows?”

How can he get this wrong every time when he’s taking all those fucking notes?

“Still just the one.”

“Has it manifested in any other way? Asked you to do anything? Do you feel different in any way when you notice it?”

There’s a distasteful eagerness to his words that always turns Alexa’s stomach, and she has to physically bite into her tongue to keep from asking what kind of bonus he gets for each symptom she shows of different mental illnesses.

“It’s just there sometimes. I..” She hesitates, feeling vaguely nauseated from his questions, but she has to be honest, right? Because, ultimately, it’s his job to help her, and she’s never going to get through this by hiding symptoms. He can’t help fix her if he doesn’t know what’s broken, and he did suggest the routine, so, okay, he gets a pass for this one.

“I still mostly only see it before I’m falling asleep. I’ve started seeing it in the late afternoon, as well, not often, but sometimes. Always in shadows that are already there. It doesn’t talk or anything, doesn’t really have any face or form except for vaguely person-shaped, but it...it watches me. And it’s...denser than it was last week. More...it’s thicker than it was, like when you see wispy clouds kind of...gather and turn into storm clouds?”

He nods, his pen whizzing over the legal pad he records their session notes on. “So, you feel threatened by the shadow? Like it’s storm clouds gathering to...what? It feels menacing?”

But, like most of the questions Alexa fences in this office, this one isn’t easily answered.

“It feels like it’s watching me, waiting for something. I don’t know what. I don’t...I don’t know if it’s menacing, exactly. Like, it feels potentially dangerous, but I can’t tell if it’s for me. I don’t know. It’s just...darker and more there this week, but it doesn’t do anything, and I don’t feel different, and it doesn’t speak to me. I. Don’t. Hear. Voices.”

She clips off each word at the end of her rant separately and precisely, repeating her counting in her head, and she forces her breathing to even out. The doctor is just doing his job, he’s just trying to help, he’s supposed to ask these questions, it’s how he helps-

“Hmm. I’ll have to consider that between now and our next meeting. In the meantime, go ahead and move up to the next dosage step with your meds, keep it on the escalating schedule we set.”

You set, she thinks mutinously for a moment before internally shaking her head. She nods, biting her tongue once more. She’s going to have a permanent indentation there as well, at this rate.

“Any side effects? Itching, swelling, difficulty breathing? Any unreasonable lethargy or detachment?”

“I mean...I don’t really have anything to attach to at this point, so…”

He frowns at her again, and she wonders if he’s going to crank up her dosage two notches instead of one.

“Are you having what you feel are typical emotional responses to everyday stimuli? Have you laughed or smiled at anything yet? How long has it been since you emotionally felt anything besides the frustration and panic?”

And, somehow, this question is difficult, too. She struggles through, trying to find a balance between honesty and not making herself look like a complete failure who can't function in life. She doesn’t help her case when she admits she hasn’t followed many of his suggestions beyond establishing a routine.

“Not even exercising?” he asks, his disappointment palpable.

When she silently shakes her head, her lips pinched tight against his disapproval, he shakes his head with a sigh that sings of ultimate betrayal. Instead of berating her as usual, the doctor frowns and looks down at his notes, considering them silently. He clicks his tongue against his teeth for a moment before switching over to end-session mode, robotically delivering his closing remarks, his typical reminders to keep her meds on a strict schedule at the exact time every day, to avoid all alcohol and unprescribed drugs, to keep her diet as clean and unprocessed as possible, and to get plenty of exercise. Even this last bit is delivered with a sharply clinical detachment, as if she has driven him to the brink of her own psychoses by stubbornly refusing to accept his help.

There is a short, silent moment between them where they refuse to look at each other, the doctor perusing his notes once more while Alexa examines the wrinkles creased into her jeans from lack of folding. The doctor flips pages over in his legal pad and slaps the cover shut sharply, breaking the standoff with one last, dismissive comment.

“Routine, Alexa. Stick to the routine. If it’s what brings you comfort, if that's the one thing you’re taking away from these sessions that actually helps, then stick with it. I’ll see you Thursday afternoon.”

….

Her afternoons vary, according to her therapy schedule. Her sessions take roughly an hour and a half, so that’s one block of time she doesn’t have to try and fill. On the days she isn’t having her skull cracked open, she can sometimes force herself to work on the files her company sends her way. Grunt work, brainless stuff that any first-year intern could do, but it keeps her on the payroll and covered by health insurance until the doctor clears her to return to the office.

Not that there’s an office to return to yet.

Grocery shopping for food she’ll pretend to eat later, making excuses to stay out of the apartment a little longer each day, watching the shadows of the buildings grow darker and longer until the sunlight disappears from the streets.

And the other shadow, the darkest of all, thick and solid against the brick and stone, pacing her, keeping track as she wanders through the broken city blocks. Sometimes she walks a little faster, pretends to not notice the black spot. Sometimes she pretends it’s keeping her company. With the most conversation she’s had in weeks taking place in her therapy sessions, she occasionally finds the imaginary company of her shadow stalker to be more pleasant than menacing.

Occasionally.

Eventually, though, she and her chimerical companion head back to the silent, encroaching walls of her apartment to begin the night routine.

…

Night Routine: laundry. Pretend to eat dinner. Shower. Finish laundry. Clean already clean kitchen. Another shower (on the bad days, the ash and debris won’t wash off). Rearrange already arranged closet. Braid hair. Take meds, do not skip, no matter how much they screw up her sleep, because they help. They do. Settle into bed. Stare at the wall. Adjust pillows. Re-settle. Stare at the shadow. Start to drift off, slide into a flashback, scream back to full consciousness. Watch the shadow. Doze. Awaken from a fucked up nightmare she can only partially remember. Repeat ad nauseum.

Really, if Alexa could just skip the nights and go straight into morning, that’d be great. Mornings are tedious but tolerable. Afternoons are blurry and tense, especially therapy days, but nights…

Nights just won't shut down.

The drugs are partially responsible, the doctor has told her multiple times. The medicine can either make sleeping more difficult, or it can act like a sedative, dragging and holding her down. Honestly, she’s getting kind of mixed results. It’s difficult to stay awake, easy to slip under, but then she can’t stay asleep for very long, jerking back to consciousness in something close to full panic, unable to figure out if it’s the drugs or the dreams that’s pushing her to the edge.

Because the fucked up dreams...well, that’s all on her and her broken brain. She stopped bringing up the dreams in therapy after the first couple of weeks of sessions. The doctor seemed hell bent on steering Alexa towards the possibility that she was experiencing waking hallucinations, but there’s no way she could possibly be awake for all this shit. Maybe some of the flashbacks, but not…

Not…

Her brain isn’t that broken.

No. No, she can tell from the way she jerks to consciousness afterwards, she knows she’s asleep. Yeah, she’s unstable and has flashbacks, but she’s not delusional. They’re dreams.

Every night.

About…

Something.

Okay, sometimes she can remember. Sometimes the meds dull her down so much she forgets what day it is, but sometimes she can hold on to a detail or two. Cold, slender fingers, impossibly strong. A flash of bright blue that sends nausea racing through her entire body (who knew your toes could feel nauseated?) or a glimpse of bottle green that, conversely, thrills her to her soul. A smooth, velvet voice that penetrates every layer of her being, down to the deepest recesses. Darkness descending...a sense of dreadful awe…

And sometimes she can remember every unhinged detail with a terrifying clarity that she will never even consider mentioning to the therapist. Not if she likes her jacket sleeves to fit properly.

There’s honesty, and then there’s idiocy.

The shadow is larger tonight. Taller, a little broader, definitely denser. She would say looming, even, but it’s not quite that large.

Not quite.

She stares at it openly, no longer trying to avoid acknowledging its presence. What's the point? The doctor knows about it, and it’s not like she’s talking to it. She’s not that far gone yet. And she hasn't lied to the doctor, either. The shadow does watch her, like it’s waiting, gathering. Convalescing. But it hasn't ever talked to her.

She does not hear voices.

She yawns and rolls her shoulders, left then right, sliding a little lower in bed, searching for a cooler place between the sheets. Movement catches her eye, and she looks up as the shadow shifts, leaning left then right, and seems to…

Grow?

No, it’s never moved before. She’s pretty sure she’s never seen it move, but now it pulses and raises up, stretching-

No. No. Sourceless shadows don’t move. They don’t grow, they don’t shift, they don’t-

The shadow stretches upwards abruptly, definitely looming now, and Alexa hits the wall behind the bed, scrambling backwards in a blind panic as she realizes the shadow isn’t growing.

It’s coming closer.

Her breathing speeds up, but her limbs are heavy and dull with narcotic stupor. The foot of her bed darkens as the shadow creeps even closer, and she opens her mouth to protest, to scream, to say something, but her tongue is numb and stupid with the acrid, coppery tang of fear and pharmaceuticals, and she hates, hates this kind of dream where she can’t speak, can't move and she can barely breathe, and...and…

The shadow reaches out, stretches over her foot and slides up her calf in a clammy, viscous caress that tightens on her knee and pulls her several inches down the bed as her throat closes.

Do not shrink from Me. It is not your fear I crave, but your adoration. Come to Me, allow yourself to move past the fear and embrace what I wish to grant you.

Horror, deep and instinctual, floods her veins. Alexa feels the voice more than hears it, and it awakens an ancient fear that finally, though futilely, awakens her drugged limbs. She claws at her sheets uselessly as the shadow moves over her, a freezing oil slick that oozes against her skin as if her blankets and clothes weren’t even there, sending shivers to the very marrow of her bones as her gorge rises, and she chokes on the bile that singes the back of her throat. She can’t fight, can’t move against this intangible force, but neither will her terror let her sink past the fear to blissful unawareness.

Give over. Let go of your stubborn fear that tethers you to this useless reality. Allow Me entrance, and I will grant you the relief you seek. Release your grip on the world that cares nothing for you, and I shall bestow upon you the peace you so desperately crave.

Her skin raises in gooseflesh everywhere the shadow crosses, and her stomach turns as it squeezes its way up her torso, her chest, her throat, slipping over her lips in a sick parody of a lover’s caress. She opens her mouth - to scream, to breathe, to do something - and the shadow plunges inwards, invading her mouth, her throat, coating her inside and out with a thick, glutinous sensation that leaves her mouth hanging obscenely open, tongue thrashing, while her mind screams useless denials.

Submit to Me what you see I can easily take, give Me My due. Give over, drown in Me, and I will save you from this miserable existence.

And she is drowning, the air pressed from her lungs as a dark heaviness settles solidly over her. Her arms are forced over her head, and she is strung out on her twisted sheets, writhing under the weight of the shadow as it presses over every surface, against every entrance. No matter how she strains, her legs are gradually forced apart. The darkness’s lack of speed is affected, some barely functioning bit of her brain whispers to her; it could take her as swiftly as it cares to and is only moving slowly because it wants her to suffer, wants to taste her anguish. She has no chance against the shadow, she can’t even touch it, really she could just save herself the anxiety and fear and just-

NO.

She twists as hard as she can, but the shadow simply moves with her, flows over her, waits until she takes another breath, and then surges between her thighs, driving her torso off the bed with the force of its thrust. Every cell in her body locks, not in pain, but in complete revulsion. And then again, and again, cruel in the thoroughness of its violation, covering and saturating every crevice of her being, coating and tainting everything it touches.

Wrong, can't...stop, stop, stop, wrong, can’t...God, please…

You cannot rely on yourself, on your own mind for proper guidance. Let Me protect you. Let Me save you from yourself.

How long...minutes...hours...years...just stop, please…please-

The alarm clock shrieks right in her goddamned ear, and she can breathe and move and scream and goddammit, she fucking hates those dreams that send her careening onto the floor, scrambling for cover when she can’t even remember what she's running from.

Her morning routine is already in shambles. There’s no ignoring the alarm clock today. A morning shower maybe, to wash off the sticky aftermath of night sweats, definitely, but no lying about, staring at the walls in a sleep-daze. Definitely washing the sheets tonight, too.

She surveys what she can see of her bed from her crumpled position on the floor in front of the closet and sighs. Must’ve been a hell of a nightmare to tear up the covers that badly. She thinks for a moment of trying a little harder to remember, to recall some piece of the dream, but then her stomach flips over, and she summarily rejects that idea in favor of caffeination and medication.

She allows herself another few minutes on the floor, waiting until her respiratory and heart rates return to a less alarming pace before climbing to her quivering knees. The shadow darkens the far corner of the room, as innocuous as always. Though she doesn’t know why, she can’t help an involuntary flinch when she first sees it. It’s not normally present in the morning, at least, she doesn’t think so...well, she can't remember the shadow being so dark in the mornings, at least. But...

She clears her throat against the thickness that seems to coat it suddenly, and readjusts her plan to include a glass of water before she starts in on the coffee. She realizes after another long moment of staring that her hands are trembling along with her legs. Her jaw clenches, and she knows she’s being ridiculous. It’s a damned shadow. It just sits there. It’s a minor manifestation of a mild psychosis secondary to major psychological trauma. It’s just a damned dark spot; it doesn’t change, doesn't want her to do anything, and it definitely doesn’t fucking talk to her.

She. Does. Not. Hear. Voices.

…

Up Now: 2

[peachyteez]

second chances ≫ DAY ONE, STRANGE NURSE.

as a feral wolf hybrid that was violent with all of the employees assigned to him, seonghwa was subjected to be put down. however, jiyu being the softhearted feral hybrid nurse she was, she decided to save seonghwa no matter what.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: currently empty, but if you would like to be added, feel free to let me know!

✧ notes: featuring bunny!soobin because i couldn’t resist.

next。

hybrids. half human, half animal. humans that not only possess an animal’s features and personality, but also have the ability to shapeshift into their respective animal.

owning a hybrid wasn’t something uncommon. as a matter of fact, it’s an idea actually encouraged by society. of course, there were people who take advantage of their authority over hybrids and force them into unspeakable, sometimes even illegal, acts for their own benefits or pleasures.

and jiyu despised them.

she never understood how some people have the heart to selfishly exploit their own hybrids. hybrids were practically considered humans, too, were they not? so why treat them as if they were worthless?

“jiyu!”

a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. looking up, she noticed yeonjun, one of her coworkers and deskmate, staring at her with a raised eyebrow.

“sheesh, i called your name three times and it was like i didn’t even exist!” he whined.

jiyu lightly scoffed before she continued typing up a progress report for one of the hybrids under her care. “sorry, got lost in my thought again,” she apologized. “but what’s up?”

yeonjun handed her a stack of files. “can you enter these into the system? some are new and some have to be...” he trailed off, trying to find a soft way to put it.

jiyu knew what he meant. “okay. just leave them here, i’ll get to them once i’m done with soobin’s report.”

“ah, the new bunny! how’s he doing?” yeonjun asked, seeming eager to know about the condition of the new bunny hybrid that was recently admitted into the recovery facility.

jiyu smiled as she saved the document. “he’s making progress. he spoke a little more today compared to when he first came in.”

yeonjun sat down next to jiyu. “that’s good to hear. poor guy was so timid before,” he reminisced.

jiyu took the top file and started sorting through the contents. “he was. he barely spoke a full sentence.” flipping through the contents of the file, jiyu realized it was for a hybrid that was about to be put down. “park seonghwa...” she read the name aloud.

yeonjun leaned over to take a peek. “oh, yeah. he’s under my care, but he got transferred over to the feral ward. probably has some hatred or distrust against humans since he keeps attacking the nurses that come in for his checkup,” he said.

jiyu kept silent as she looked at the picture of the wolf hybrid attached to the file. she frowned. no hybrid deserved to be put down. but alas, she didn’t have any say over the matter since upper management makes the final calls over matters like that.

“jiyu, you can go on your lunch break now,” yeonjun nudged. “it’s twelve–thirty.”

standing up, jiyu strectched her arms over her head. “just leave the files on my desk. i’ll finish entering them in when i get back,” she said before leaving the office. yeonjun hummed in acknowledgement.

jogging down the hall, she came to a halt in front of one of the hybrid’s rooms. “soobin, can i come in?” jiyu asked with a knock to the door. hearing a faint ‘come in’, she entered the code into the keypad and the door automatically opened. peeking inside, she noticed the bunny hybrid wrapped in his blanket and watching TV.

she softly chuckled before closing the door. “look what i brought for you,” she said in a sing–song voice before taking out a bread packet from her white lab coat pocket.

his ears perking at at the familiar sound of the packet crinkling, his head whipped over in her direction before making a leap with his blanket for the packet. taking it from jiyu, he softly smiled. “thank you,” he softly said before sitting back down on his bed. he opened the packet and nibbled on the pastry.

jiyu sat next to him and gently rubbed his head. “did the nurses take you outside yet?” she asked. the facility had a little field area outside for the hybrids.

soobin nodded his head. “i met a golden–retriever hybrid outside! his name was beomgyu,” soobin proudly stated. “he’s really energetic, though...” he sheepishly added.

jiyu chuckled at soobin’s newfound enthusiasm. “is that so?” she vaguely remembered yeonjun telling her about beomgyu’s endless amount of energy once he fully adjusted to the facility. “did you have fun with him?”

“yep! we made—”

before soobin could continue telling jiyu about his time outside, a loud crash echoed from down the hall, followed by a scream. startled, soobin yelped and hid under his blanket.

gently giving his a few pats, jiyu immediately got up. “i’ll be right back soobin,” she said before frantically running out of the room and towards the source of the sound.

jiyu saw an open door to one of the rooms down the hall and assumed that was where the crash came from. looking in, jiyu’s eyes widened at the scene in front of her.

a hybrid was cornering a nurse, ready to pounce. the hybrid’s back was facing towards jiyu, making it easier for her to sneak up behind him and give him an anesthetic shot. the hybrid stumbled around before falling to the ground, completely losing consciousness.

with a sigh of relief, jiyu observed the state of the room. papers, medicine bottles, and medical equipment were scattered everywhere. “what happened?” she asked the nurse as she extended a hand out to help her stand.

the nurse was slightly trembling. “i–i was g-giving him h-his weekly c-checkup and all of a sudden he just...he just...”

“he attacked?” jiyu finished for her. seeing the nurse frantically nod, she sighed before shooting the nurse a soft smile. “you can go take a break. i can take care of things in here.”

“t-thank you!” the nurse gratefully said before scurrying out of the room.

jiyu’s eyes scanned the condition of the room once more before going to look at the name plate outside next to the door. she almost choked on her spit. park seonghwa.

“well, yeonjun definitely wasn’t lying,” she mumbled to herself. she took a look at the unconscious hybrid. “now how am i suppose to get him onto the bed...”

ten minutes and a few cracked joints later, jiyu sighed in relief when she successfully hauled the wolf hybrid onto his bed. she spotted the numerous toothless plushies lined along the side and her heart melted. turning away, she started cleaning the room. while picking up and organizing the various medicine bottles, she felt her heart drop to her stomach when she heard soft growling behind her.

slowly turning around, she was met with seonghwa’s glare and bared canines. without her hearing or even noticing, the anesthetic wore off on seonghwa and he had huddled into the corner of the bed and the wall.

the most logical option she had was to slowly back out of the room and close the door, but something about seonghwa made jiyu stay rooted in her spot. the longer she looked at the growling hybrid in front of her, the more she realized how scared he looked rather than intimidating.

“you’re scared, aren’t you?” she mumbled, mainly to herself but seonghwa managed to understand with his enhanced hearing. as if to prove her wrong, he started growling louder.

jiyu realized he must’ve been nonverbal if all he’s done so far was growl at her. she slowly put her hands up. “i won’t hurt you, buddy,” she softly reassured. seonghwa’s eyes quickly flitted to the open door then back to her. she softy smiled. “no one else is going to either.”

she gestured to the toothless plushies, trying to get seonghwa to loosen up and relax. “you really like toothless, don’t you?”

seonghwa glanced down at the multiple plushies next to him. his eyes slightly softened and jiyu swore they were filled with a child–like curiosity and sparkle. she couldn’t help but chuckle, causing the hybrid’s attention to shift back onto her. fortunately, his growling stopped, but he still had a hard stare.

“will you let me clean up the rest of the room?” she asked. seonghwa didn’t say anything, but he didn’t object. as she cleaned, seonghwa’s eyes were trained on her figure, following her every move.

he was quite confused. normally, others would’ve left his room out of fear when he growls at them, yet this female stayed and even talked to him.

“there, all done!” jiyu chirped when she put the last bottle on the shelf. glancing at the clock, her eyes widnened when she realized her lunch break ended five minutes ago. “oh my god, i need to go,” she mumbled before turning to seonghwa. “it was nice meeting you, seonghwa. who knows, maybe i’ll come by again later,” she smiled before leaving the room.

seonghwa stared at the door after she closed it. she really was a strange nurse.

yeonjun weirdly stared at jiyu when she came back late. “where were you? your break ended ten minutes ago.”

jiyu bit the inside of her cheek, debating on whether or not she should tell him the truth. “would you believe me if i said i was in park seonghwa’s room?” she meekly asked.

yeonjun practically choked on air. “you were where?!” he shouted. jiyu slapped a hand over his mouth while sheepishly smiling to her other coworkers who looked over at them.

“don’t scream,” she chastised as she uncovered his mouth.

“b-but you don’t even have a scratch on you!” he resorted to whisper-shouting. “are you joking around with me?”

jiyu rolled her eyes. “no, you idiot, i’m not. i really was in there. he was about to attack a poor nurse and i just happened to hear the commotion and help out.”

yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “yet he didn’t attack you?”

“...i guess not.”

“huh, interesting. i wonder why,” yeonjun pondered. “he usually attacks everyone that comes in to check up on him...”

suddenly, a light bulb went off in her head. “transfer him to me.”

yeonjun almost fell out of his chair. “pardon?”

“i didn’t enter his put–down proposition into the system yet, so the higher ups don’t know about it. transfer him to me. plus he doesn’t attack me, so i’ll take care of him.”

yeonjun stared at her like she grew a second head. “y-you want to take park seonghwa. the violent wolf hybrid,” he said, making sure he heard her right.

“yes, yeonjun,” she deadpanned.

after a moment of hesitation and contemplating, yeonjun slowly nodded. “alright. but the moment he’s violent with you, let me know, okay?” he pulled up seonghwa’s file on his monitor. “there, i emailed seonghwa’s file to you.”

jiyu smiled. “thanks!” she cheered before turning to her computer to create an application for her new patient. 

park seonghwa; wolf hybrid.