#probs will though the second hand embarrassment reflects back

[wejji]

Okay here we go again, I need to disperse the trash can but genuinely watched Britney broski new tumblr video and it made me think, bitch if I even remember this account and the posts it’s either going to be “wtf were you doing” or “well I guess it worked out then” *smirks*. I know kill me /j. I don’t want to remember.

[slightlymore]

Pride | Part 3

Pairing: CollegeStudent!Doyoung, Y/N, CollegeStudent!Johnny  Genre: Series | Smut | Angst | Crack | Prob fluff if you wear magnifying glasses Warnings: Swearing | +18 in general | I was evil laughing the whole time while writing, beware of that lol | maybe a little cliché  Words: 4K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |  Part 8 THE END

The last place Johnny expected to see Doyoung was the gym. 

It was a gloomy and wet day and he was feeling like shit. He dragged his body around the weights racks and eyed the cardio corner where Doyoung was. He wasn’t doing anything extreme, just running on the treadmill, eyes focused on nothing, ears made busy by some music. Johnny didn't want to approach him, or talk to him, or look at him, but his eyes continued to dart into his direction nevertheless. 

He wondered what type of person Doyoung was. Was he funny? Was he really that thoughtful? Was he even that handsome? What made you start to like him? What did he have? Johnny looked away. He wasn’t so clueless - he was jealous. But he couldn’t understand why was that happening. He thought he was over you. He definitely had no right to feel that way, he knew it, he was the one to make you both meet, he knew it. A part of him was excited to see you finally with someone but a part of him he didn’t know existed, hated it. He called you that night after you abruptly went home from the McDonald’s. You had a very strange voice. It was weak, feeble, small.  “Are you still feeling that bad?” he asked. It was strange to see Doyoung mention your cramps as you’ve never had such severe pain before. And he wasn’t blind. You came crying out of that bathroom after talking to Doyoung and Johnny doubted it was because of menstruations.  “No, I’m fine now. Don’t worry” you replied. Johnny hummed.  “Is Doyoung kind to you?” he asked after a moment.  You went silent for a split second as if unsure. “Yes. Why are you asking?” you said.  Johnny didn’t like that pause. “Is he there with you? Can he hear our conversation?” he questioned you again.  You went quiet again. “No. I’m home already. Johnny, what’s wrong?” you asked.

Johnny felt a lump in his throat he couldn’t understand. He was invasive and rude and he didn’t like but he couldn’t stop himself. “Did you sleep together?” he asked on a whim. He regretted it a second after opening his mouth. “No, don’t tell me. I’m sorry” he added quickly after. “Listen,” he breathed in, “just be careful okay? Tell me if he’s hurting you or something. That’s all” he added. “Damn, John” you chuckled as if surprised. “Doyoung’s a good person. Why would he hurt me? Don’t worry about it” you reassured him. It was a fake laugh. He has seen you do that so many times and you’ve even joked about it before. He was worried.  Then you stopped texting him as you used to do. The following week you were busy all the time, you couldn’t make it to lunch for 4 times, you wouldn’t sit with him during class and barely looked at him during it. Did he hurt you in some ways? He confronted you once. He blocked your way and he hated how you looked around for an escape. “Y/N, what’s going on?” he asked. You finally looked at him. “Did I do something?” he asked. Your eyes widened slightly. “What are you talking about? No” you replied shooking your head firmly.  Johnny stared at you as if trying to read into your soul. “Y/N, talk to me. What’s wrong? You can tell me everything” he reassured you. “Why would something be wrong? I’ve been a little absent because I’m busy - if this is what you’re talking about” you smiled. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you” you added, playfully hitting him with your elbow.   But you were uneasy. Johnny wanted to push you into opening up. “Are you sure?” he asked for the last time. “Definitely” you smiled again. Johnny crossed the gym. He could see how Doyoung noticed him approaching, thanks to the reflection of the window in front of him and saw how he stopped himself from sighing. He didn’t look particularly pleased to see him coming. Johnny couldn’t understand if that was just his personality or if Doyoung actually hated him. Maybe it was just a projection of his own feelings. He couldn’t stand Doyoung either. “Hey,” Doyoung said taking off one of his earbuds. He didn’t bother to look directly at him. “What’s up?” Johnny replied stepping on the machine and starting to jog lightly. “Nothing much,” replied Doyoung. They both ran for a while in silence, each with his own thoughts. Then Johnny spoke again. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he said. “Yeah?” Doyoung replied, not that interested.  “I know I kinda pushed you two together, but what are your intentions with Y/N?” he asked. Doyoung finally looked at him. Johnny looked back with the corners of his eyes. The rain was pouring, hitting on the window glass as a thousand fingers. A group of noisy people walked behind them, making it difficult to continue the conversation. It’s not like Doyoung had a quick answer anyways. What are my intentions, really? Doyoung thought. “I’ve got no intentions” he replied after a while. And it was the truth. He might have had intentions before, but not anymore.  Johnny’s face was a mask Doyoung had difficulties to figure out.  “You mean you don’t like her?” he asked. His voice was calm and collected and Doyoung knew it wasn't a good sign.  Doyoung sighed. “I mean she doesn’t like me” he answered. Johnny furrowed his eyebrows as if the other was lying.  Doyoung wouldn’t have been able to be that honest before because it would have hurt his pride a lot. But lately Doyoung understood that having too much pride meant to just have a big ugly ego. And he hated that. Seeing you so eager to deny your feelings for Johnny just to not look pathetic or weak taught him that he was doing the same. In all departments of his life. Doyoung wanted to be honest and proud of that.  “But do you like her?” Johnny asked again, not letting the conversation die as Doyoung hoped.  He stared at him. “Are you worried about something?” he asked, already irritated for the interrogatory. He thought better than starting some kind of fight with Johnny but Doyoung couldn’t stand all of those questions.  “I just think that if you’ve got no intentions with her then just get off her” the other commented. Johnny didn’t mean to be that rude. He planned to just go there and ask a few questions and maybe kindly intimate the other guy to stop messing with his best friend. Okay, he wanted to be rude.  Doyoung couldn't help himself to not snort at the other’s words. Then he opened his mouth as if wanting to say something, then he then laughed again, incredulous.  Johnny looked at him not expecting that reaction. God, he wanted to punch him so badly.  “What does that mean?” Doyoung asked, in the end. “Why shouldn’t I be allowed to be her friend?” “I mean, it’s not like you could have a healthy friendship if you like her and she doesn’t,” Johnny said, as if obvious. “If you actually like her though” he added.  “You mean, I couldn’t have your type of friendship?” Doyoung asked without being able to stop himself from being shady. He was angry. He was laughing but he was fuming inside.   Johnny rolled his eyes.  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “That she likes me” he added. 

Doyoung stopped the treadmill. 

“You know” he simply said. It sounded like an accusation. Johnny continued to jog. He shook his head. “It’s not true” he commented. In most delirious states, Johnny also thought that maybe, only maybe, you actually liked him. But he had to wake up from that. Doyoung just stared at him, as if in shock. Or as if controlling himself from beating him up. Johnny stopped his treadmill as well and grabbed the towel to pat his face. “I thought she was in love with me too,” he said afterwards. “But she’s not. She said that herself” he added. Seeing Doyoung silent he chuckled. “What?” he asked. Johnny sighed and drank from his water bottle for a few moments leaving Doyoung to his realizations. It was during the last months of high school. You were in Johnny’s room, sprawled on the carpet, snacks all around you, chatting with your friends. “What? No fucking way” Johnny heard you laugh. He was behind the door, the tray of drinks slightly shaking in his hands. He didn’t have to stop and listen to you that way, but he knew you were talking about him and he couldn’t help but eavesdrop.  “He’s like a brother to me” you added at the others’ disapproving. Johnny gulped. His throat was suddenly very dry.  So that was it, huh, he thought.  Johnny never thought about you that way. Okay, not true.  Johnny thought about you a lot. But he thought he didn’t like you. At the same time, there was no real reason to not be in love with you, he liked hanging out with you, seeing you every day, text you as often as possible. But that was it. He enjoyed the way your relationship was and didn’t want to change that. Or so he thought.  Because now, hearing you say that with your own mouth - the fact that you would never like him in ways beyond friendship - was like opening his third eye. He did like you, he understood. He was a little ashamed to admit even to himself, but he had been tempted multiple times to just kiss you on the spot, to push you on his bed and just make out with you. But he stopped himself every time. Because he was nervous. Because he didn’t have the courage.  Now, standing there, balancing the tray on his palms, he was glad he didn’t try. He was glad to have maintained your friendship that way. It would have been too embarrassing. His pride would have been devastated. 

Johnny would often forget about you. Not in a bad way. It was his coping mechanism to just stop thinking about you so much. He started to see other girls. He expected you to do the same. He waited patiently to see you get a boyfriend. He knew that in that exact moment he would finally be at peace. He flaunted his relationships. He talked about other girls. He wanted a reaction. Was it possible for you to actually not care about him at all?

When he understood that Doyoung was interested in you, he didn't expect much out of it. He was just another guy Johnny tried to set you up with. He was digging his own grave with setting you up with men but so far no one worked for you and a little devilish part of himself, was full of joy every time you talked badly about someone. Maybe this is how your relationship had to be. 

But then he saw you at the party. Doyoung was shirtless and followed you into Johnny's room. What were you doing together? Were you trying to find an empty room? He saw how you panicked and for a split second, he thought the natural thing to think: you were embarrassed to see him that way. Maybe you were shocked. Maybe, just maybe, you were actually jealous for once. But then Doyoung came in and Johnny changed his mind. Were you actually embarrassed by the fact of being found out trying to hook up with him? 

Then when he got downstairs he saw the way you were talking to him. He saw how Doyoung looked at you as if no one else was around besides you. Johnny felt something weird. He complimented you and said how well you matched. You smiled back at him as if happy. 

That was it. It was over. You were with another man and Johnny was with another woman and it was fine. You were both fine. 

It was fine. 

He continued to repeat that to himself the whole night. It's fine. Doyoung was a good guy, he was taking you home. There was no need to worry. Johnny tried to gulp down the weird emotion he was feeling with his mantra. It's fine. 

Fuck. He wanted to take you home by himself. No. He wanted to take you upstairs on his bed and tuck you in and maybe watch you sleep for a little while before getting ashamed of being so creepy for no reason and leave. But he snapped out of it. Wouldn't that just eliminate the whole progress he did? He was your friend. Just a friend. Doyoung could be something more. He should take care of you and he was doing it. Amazingly.  In fact, Doyoung was so great that he couldn't stop himself from taking away some of his attributes when he called and saw you so eager to dismiss Johnny's actions in favour of Doyoung's ones. He hated himself and regretted saying that already while saying it, but he couldn't stand to see you consider Doyoung a more important man in your life so easily. 

He beat himself up over that the whole day and night. He was a jerk. He was a selfish jerk that hated to see you in love with somebody else. This is not what he wanted to see himself like. He had to do something about it. 

He told you he was dating that girl. And it was true. He had some feelings for her. Was he in love? Probably not. Was she in love? Also probably not. Would it be a long-lasting relationship? Johnny doubted that. But it came at the right moment. He would be fine afterwards. That was his plan. 

Everything was fine. 

But then he saw you hold his hand and he lost it. 

God, he hated that. I'll take her home, he wanted to say. Why did you tell Doyoung about that and not me? 

He wasn't worried that Doyoung did something to you. In reality, yes, it could be a possibility but it wasn't the whole problem. He did find weird that he saw you crying and he immediately thought it was Doyoung’s fault. But he was also jealous. He was so mad. 

When he saw him at the gym he wanted to take him down the treadmill by the collar and punch him. Was he playing with your feelings? He knew that Doyoung probably wasn’t. He was a good guy and that made him even angrier - because he had no real excuse to hate him besides his own selfish reasons. 

You didn't text him and wouldn't answer his calls. Were you already so in love with Doyoung that now you didn't even want to be friends anymore? Were you texting Doyoung instead? Did he lose you so easily? 

But then Doyoung said it wasn't the case and Johnny felt so shocked that he had to stop himself from laughing. If you weren’t in love with him, if it wasn’t Doyoung’s fault, whose fault was it? What was going on? He needed answers and he needed them now. 

When you opened your front door and saw Johnny you thought about the small part inside of you that was absolutely thrilled to see him. But Doyoung was right. You had to put a stop to that. Only you knew how hard it has been the past week, to not read his texts and not pick up his calls. It wasn’t the best thing to do, but you weren’t ready to just talk to him. Not so soon. You were afraid that you might end up saying the opposite of what you needed to say - that you love him and want to be with him and maybe beg, be pathetic, ask him embarrassing stuff, mortifying yourself and him as well. But Johnny didn’t want to wait. He brought snacks and drinks. You sat on the floor of your living room. He was weirdly silent and you couldn’t bring yourself up to say something either. “I spoke to Doyoung in the gym today,” he said after a little while. “Oh really?” you replied, glad that he started the conversation but also a little scared of what that conversation was about.  You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t afraid of Doyoung spilling all the tea about your feelings to Johnny. But the scariest part was that you somehow hoped that he would do it. It couldn’t worsen the situation, would it? You reached a point in which your friendship wasn’t as before and it was all your fault. You thought that you would be able to get over your own feelings for the sake of that friendship and now you were slowly destroying it. You were tired. You didn’t want to see Johnny for a while and you were tired to hide.  But would it be better to see Johnny suddenly distant as well? He still called, he still texed, he was in your house in that exact moment, trying to salvage your relationship. Would he do the same if he knew? “He told me that you don’t like him” Johnny revealed. You breathed in and out. You expected him to say that Doyoung told him everything. That the reason why you didn’t like Doyoung was that you liked him instead. “Is it true?” he asked.  You wondered what to say. “Yes” you said, honestly after a little while. Johnny hummed. “Is he bothering you in some ways because of that?” he asked again. You puffed. “Come on, you’re still onto this?” you commented. “He’s not bothering me” you explained, stuffing your mouth with the hot-dogs Johnny brought, hoping to have more time to answer his questions if chewing. He rolled his eyes at how you almost spilt ketchup on your shirt and handed you a napkin. “Y/N” he said after a few moments of silence. You hummed back. “I have feelings for you” he added. You choked.

Doyoung was sitting at his desk, the only light was the lamp on it and the computer screen. He knew that Johnny was probably talking to you at that right moment and he couldn’t concentrate. Johnny was so worried about you not talking to him and so sure that it was Doyoung’s fault that he almost told Johnny that you loved him. You would have hated him a lot. Or maybe thank him. He wasn’t sure. But what he knew was the fact that he couldn’t stand the situation anymore even if it had nothing to do with himself. His eyes kept staring at the silent phone until he got exasperated and had to get up and walk around. His back felt a weird shiver and a dark awareness painted his thoughts. As if something bad was about to happen anytime soon.  What was he so worried about? 

You imagined this moment many times before. It was either random, as you were playing videogames, or romantic while walking on the beach, or wordless, said only with a kiss. 

But you never thought that you would feel this way. You didn't anticipate the aftermath. Your mind couldn't imagine what was going to come next. It stopped right into that moment and you never adventured into more. You never dared to. 

So it felt almost ridiculous when the first thing that popped up in your mind after hearing Johnny's confession was Doyoung. 

Just that. 

Doyoung. 

Maybe it was a case similar to when you're about to die and your mind makes you think about the most random thing ever, like that time your grandma made you lasagne or what Timmy said to you that day in the middle of the 2009's summer. It wasn't the most important thing to think about as you're dying, is it? So maybe Doyoung was just that. A coping mechanism your mind used to shelter itself. 

"I have to process that" you commented after a while. 

What would Doyoung say about this? What would his opinion be? Would he be glad? Would he be happy? It was the right thing to feel, right? Happiness. You were finally loved back by your crush. Everything you've ever wanted was happening right at that moment. 

Yet you were drifting away. 

Johnny looked at you for a little, giving you space and time but then he couldn’t stay silent anymore. “I’m sorry if it’s making you feel uncomfortable” he added. You shook your head. “What, no” you managed to say in a whisper. “I’m just...shocked. I’ve never thought you would like me back” you explained not being able to find the right words.  Johnny’s eyes widened. You returned the look mirroring him. “You didn’t know?” you asked in a feeble voice. “You really didn’t realize?” you asked again. Johnny opened his mouth as to talk but no sound came out of it. He cleared his voice.  “You told the others that I’m like a brother to you and that you would never like me” he managed to say. “Remember? The last year of high school?” You frowned. 

It was during your high school days, yes, you remembered. You were hanging out with your friend group at Johnny’s home. He went downstairs for a while and the others started to mock you for having alleged feelings for each other. “Don’t be ridiculous” you commented. “He would never like me back” you explained.  “Tell him how you’re feeling, Y/N” someone said. You shook your head.  “I think he has a crush on you” someone else said as well.  “No fucking way” you laughed, embarrassed. “He’s like a brother to me” you added.  Not because he felt like a brother to you. But because he treated you like a little sister. You knew you couldn’t stand a chance with him. He was so popular. Every girl in your school liked him.  But your friends’ words made you think.  You decided to swallow your pride.  That night, after everyone left you lingered on his bed for a while watching him playing videogames. You looked at the back of his head, and the line of his shoulders.  “There’s something I have to tell you, Johnny” you whispered.  “Me too” he replied turning to you.  You both looked at each other for a little while. Your heart was beating very fast and your palms were sweating. Impossible, but what if...? “You know Kelly from that time we hung out at the mall? I’m thinking of asking her out. What do you think?” he asked. 

“God, Y/N” Johnny said. “I was trying to make you jealous” he added. “I’m so sorry,” he said and held you even closer to his chest. You were on your unmade bed, Johnny’s legs intertwined with yours, his arm around your waist, his fingers drawing light circles on your bare skin. You chuckled. “Stop thinking about that already. We sorted everything out, didn’t we?” you commented. You couldn’t recall how you ended up sleeping together. Everything felt like a dream and you were still immersed in that. One second you were looking at Johnny’s eyes and the other one he was kissing you, lifting you up into his strong arms, freeing you of your clothes, making you mumble his name. Some phone started to ring. It was yours. As you tried to move to get it Johnny held you even tighter and whined. “Ignore it,” he said. You smiled and turned back to his hug and tried to fall asleep. Doyoung didn’t know what was he thinking when he left his apartment. Was he really going to your place for no reason? 

He felt obnoxious. 

He stopped in the middle of the road and turning around he walked a few steps, meaning to go back home. 

Then he stopped again. 

He breathed in and out. He thought about you, probably crying after Johnny talked to you. You probably sorted things out and you had to watch him saying how sorry he was, how he still loved you as a friend, you had to watch the pity in his eyes seeing you so devastated. 

It made Doyoung feel sick with pain. 

So he turned around again and walked into your direction. What if he was naive? Or stupid? Or pathetic? He loved you.  He loved you a lot. He loved you so much that he just wanted to see you happy. He didn’t care if you loved him back or not. He wasn’t loving to receive. He just loved because you deserved it. He just loved. 

He loved you. That was his last thought as his eyes got suddenly blind by a bright light while crossing the road. He brought his arm up to shelter his gaze as a reflex.  His mind suddenly remembered one time he saw you while you were in class. He was walking in the hallway and stopped in front of your classroom, creeping in through the glass window, hoping no one would see you. You were talking to one of your friends, smiling, your eyes almost closed, your teeth showing, a strand of hair fallen out from your hairdo. You looked bright and kind.  Why was he thinking about that? It took him a second to realize what was going on. A loud thud accompanied the smell of burnt. He felt cold and nauseous. Then the world collapsed. 

[shinjukuspiritcommittee]

Sick Time HCs

Hello, guess who was sick for the whole day prior. This mod, haha- (coughs)

Since I had received multiple Headcanon requests for this topic but different characters I decided to just wrap it into one post I hope you all don’t mind. Regardless, please enjoy~

~~~

Sick Day

Kengo

~“Okay…” Kengo breathed as you two stared one another down. You gripped your sword as tight as you could and steadied your breathing as you were anticipating his next move. Kengo moved with impressive speed but you parried his punch with your blade. However it was just a feint as Kengo’s true intention was to strike you from the side. Due to your sluggish movements and hazy vision he completely blind sided you and sent you spiraling on the ground. You coughed and wheezed as you struggled to pick yourself back up. Kengo quickly caught on and rushed over. “Hey, what’s the matter!?” You tried to tell him you were fine but you coughed again, this time from your sickness. “I knew somethin’ was off.” You sniffled a bit and sneezed in response which finally gave you away. “You’re sick ain’tcha?” You grimaced. “Yep. C’mere.” Kengo suddenly picked you up carrying you bridal style. You tried to argue that you could walk on your own just fine. Silently Kengo lifted your shirt which you would have raised an opinion about but he revealed the bruise he left on you given your weakened state. You couldn’t really hide it anymore at that point so you fell silent and couldn’t look him in the eyes with shame. “I’ll take you, got that?”

~Much to your displeasure he carried you all the way back to your room cradled in his arms. It was a little embarrassing but you were relieved none of your other friends saw you. Once you were back in your bed you did your best to feign wellness and attempted to shoo Kengo away. “What’s with you? There’s no way you’re alright!” You tried to argue that you fine once more but a sneeze prevented you from doing so. “See?” You grumbled with embarrassment. You didn’t like the idea on appearing so vulnerable in front of your partner when he relies on you. “What’re you talkin’ about? You’re just sick, that’s all.” Still, it was embarrassing to get sick when it seems Kengo almost never gets sick. “Yeah I’m pretty healthy year round and- wait, no.” Kengo snapped his attention at you. “I won’t think you’re weak. Promise.” You crossed your arms in defeat and sighed. “Now, what do you do when you get sick…” He pondered aloud. “Uh, right.” Kengo tossed your covers over you. “Stay in these, I’ll be right back!” First he insisted on staying, then he leaves!? “It’ll just take a second.” With that you were alone like you initially wanted. You breathed out a sigh while you reflected back on earlier. You could’ve been a little nicer and gave him a bit of a heads up that you weren’t in fighting form today. Then again you can’t let yourself get sick so easily. Everyone depends on you and you can’t rest while everyone else does the heavy lifting. You just wanna do your part…

~Your thoughts were interrupted abruptly by Kengo swinging the door open. He seemed to have extra blankets for you and what looked to be bottled water. “I’m back!” He declared happily. “Shiro told me that when someone gets sick you’re supposed to keep em warm and hydrated! Yep, that’s what he said!” You asked if he told Shiro while you were concerned your cover was blown. “Nah, cuz then he would get all fussy over you. So… you’re my little secret. Well, our little secret but… uh…” Kengo scratched the back of his head while you both breathed a sigh of relief and looked at him with a bit of contempt. “Hey, what’s with the dirty look for? I thought you didn’t want him fussin’. That’s why I didn’t tell him.” You let loose another cough as your throat begins to feel irritated and you instead thanked him for doing all of that. “No prob!” He chuckled. “But, I don’t think these sheets are gonna keep you warm.” Before you could ask what he meant, Kengo slipped out of his sandals and got into your bed with you. You told him that someone might get the wrong idea or he could get sick himself. “Hmm, nope. I locked the door (I think) and I’m pretty good at stuff like this.” While you two were wrapped under the same blankets you could feel how warm your partner really was. You shivered and subconsciously scooted closer to him until your bodies were pressed against one another. You comment on how pleasant his body heat is and how the cold seemingly disappeared. “Thanks, but… you’re really burning up. Try to drink some water and relax, ‘kay?” You did so and the cold drink felt refreshing for a change, but even then you shivered which Kengo laughed at.

Wakan Tanka

~You couldn’t hide anything from Wakan Tanka. Not a thing in the world he couldn’t see past. “Hey, you feeling alright?” You tried to play it off as a little head cold and that it wouldn’t interrupt your planned day out but you couldn’t hold back a serious cough that left your throat feeling scratchy. There was no denying the chills you were starting to develop either as you started to shiver in your jacket. “You don’t look that well.” He commented. “I think something happened like this before to my Gunzo. I believe the instructors said there was an illness going around… it seems you’ve caught it, my summoner.” You were dreading the prospect but couldn’t deny that to be the case as your chills began to escalate and you letting out a comment on how cold it was. Wakan Tanka took hold of your hand and the heat from his hand was relieving to say the least. “Here, come with me.” Wakan practically tugged on your arm as you were dragged off towards the dorms at his school.

~“You can use my room.” He said as he guided you in. Not surprising at all everything was disorganized. You commented on the state of his room and all the garments he leaves about. “Oh, don’t worry! None of them have been worn yet. I was just looking for my lost jersey!” You sighed and commented that he should take better care of his room while you proceeded to shiver and cough more. You sniffled as your cold began to reach peak chills and shivers. Your joints felt incredibly stiff as you continued to stand. “Here, have a seat.” The football player guided you to his bed and undressed you in most of your clothes except for your under shirt and pants. Then he helped you to get into a cozy enough position in bed as your breathing became harder. Everything felt worse because you were still chilly. “Give me one moment. I’ll let the nurse know and to call your school.” He said that as he jogged off, leaving you to curl up under his sheets. They definitely smelled like Wakan after a long day of practice to the point where you began to wonder if he showered enough. He may be more absent minded but he does care a lot for others so maybe that devotion leads him to neglect his own needs…

~Wakan Tanka came back sniffling with his face looking flushed. “Okay my summoner. The nurse said you can rest here while he contacts your school but it may be a while.” You took notice of his complextion and runny nose. “Oh, this?” He questioned as he wiped his face. “This is probably-” He coughed. “Scratch that- definitely the same cold as you and my Gunzo…” He was starting to shiver and you couldn’t bear to see him like that, so you told him to get into the covers with you. “Oh, do you mean it?” He seemed pretty ecstatic most likely because it meant he could be closer with you. He quickly removed his jersey and tossed it to the side (at least you now know how he loses it) as he crawled into the bed with you. His normally warm body felt like an inferno since he was coming down with the same cold. You welcomed the warmth of course because it meant you were no longer freezing. “Wow my summoner… you feel as though you’re on fire…” He stated, huddling closer to you. “I know it’s because you’re ill, but… I like it…” He yawned. “It’s kind of… relaxing…” Yawns were contagious because you too were beginning to feel dreary. “Maybe… we could…” The two of you trailed off to sleep together within moments, now somewhat comfortable despite your shared illness. When Monobe came over to pick you up he decided to let you sleep for a bit longer with your friend since you both looked “at peace”.

Tsathoggua

~You were chatting away on the phone with Tsathoggua now that classes were done for the day. He was going off about how certain classics will never go out of style and you gave him your honest opinion on the topic. While he was interested in your perspective he seemed dead set in his own ideas and you commented that was totally fine and that he should have fun his way. “Right!? It’s like most gamers nowadays wanna shove their opinions down your throat and you just want em to-” During his rant you let loose a cough that wasn’t very severe. “Hm?” You tried to explain it as a tickle in your throat but a much nastier one came through. “You’re getting sick.” You tried to assure him it wasn’t serious as the sick pains began to set in. “One sec.” With that he disconnected, leaving you to wonder what he meant by that.

~That was until he warped himself right into your room. You let out a hoarse shriek as Tsathoggua’s huge frame startled you. “What!? That’s like, not a way to greet a guest yeah!?” You apologized and explained you weren’t expecting him to just poof on over. “Well what else was I gonna do? Just let you sit all alone? C’mere.” He replied while holding a hand out to you. Hesitantly you grab it and in an instant you were taken to his den of sloth. He brought you over to a bean bag chair he often uses to relax and play games on. Tsath rests himself on the chair and pulls you onto his lap while his minions wrapped you both in a blanket. “Uh… are you comfortable?” You told him you were very comfortable like that, but if he really had to drag you all the way out to his room. “Yes, otherwise we wouldn’t be able to watch movies.” Tsathoggua did seem genuinely concerned with your well-being in his own way. “I just want you to relax, yeah?”

~So giving into Tsathoggua’s offer rather quickly proved good for you in the end. His body was quite soft and cozy which helped you ease up. The movie more served as white noise for you as you quickly became exhausted due to your sickness and fell asleep cozied up in your friend’s fur. “H-Hey…” Tsathoggua grumbled as you were a bit too relaxed. But he eased up when he saw on your sleeping face. Rather than try to put you to rest elsewhere he figured it’d be better (and less work) to adjust you slightly on his frame and using him like a bed. While you weren’t lucid enough to remember what exactly happened, you were happy it did and slept incredibly soundly.

[mothmansfriend]

when i’m sad oh god i’m sad (pt. 2)

link to pt. 1

follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder

update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.

summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.

tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning),  suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.

There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.

Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.

Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.

the shittier twin: You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out  (received: 10:14)

He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply.

He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all.

He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?

He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?

—

Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.

Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”

“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”

“Well we can agree to disagree then.”

—

The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can know you again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.

Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”

Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of  what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he’s fine.”

Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”

The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”

Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.

—

Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.

Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.”

Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am.

“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to decide to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, Princey, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped asking like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.

“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!”

Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever once care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days.”

Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”

“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know I never go out without a plan, I have paid some fucking terrible prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And you’re asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response.

Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.

D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have any idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?”

Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.

Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?

As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more.

[priincesspacificaarchive]

💍 + regular dipcifica *

WEDDING MEME||ACCEPTING

where they get married

where they live in cali idk??? probs on a beach? idk for some reason i haven’t thought of their wedding that often???

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

summer. summer’s always they’re time together so summer just makes sense. maybe june, around pioneer’s day? so they have something good to celebrate instead of her family’s fraudulence.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue probs. also if jewish!dipper still applies then those too. and paz has an ampola fan! I LOVE THOSE.

what their wedding cake looks like

it’s like, five-tiers and white buttercream on red velvet cake. it’s got like, baby blue and lavender-tinted seashells and a typical bride/groom topper. 

….who smashes cake into whose face

they do that weird “crossing their forks around each other but still eating off their own fork” thing actually.

who proposed to who first

dipper, the sap. she was halfway through med school too! 

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

paz down the aisle, dipper at the altar. this all changes big time if dipper is jewish okay.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

she’s wearing this white ballgown style with a corset top with a lot of crystal gemstone things. like the whole bodice is covered. there’s also lines of the crystals down the gauzy skirt. she uses lavender accent pieces. he wears a black tux and a lavender bowtie. 9its been a while since i’ve watched say yes to the dress okay the terminology left my brain.)

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

color scheme is like…lavender and baby blue bc it can be and also color-coding and ALSO aesthetic.

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean?)

petunias (meaning your presence soothes me), something light blue, probably wrapped in baby’s breath (meaning -) bc a lot of bouquets get wrapped in something like that to keep it together. also ampola flowers bc purto rican tradition.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

they wrote their own. paz’s are along the lines of like “so we used to hate each other and now we’re standing here and it’s just amazing how much time can change things.” and she makes inside jokes and promises to love him until the end of the world. “but then you’re on your own i am not holding mcgucket’s hand again.” dipper’s are rly sappy and sweet and he makes her cry and he says something along the lines of loving her until the end of the world and then “but then ur on ur own okay i don’t care if u get turned to stone” and they’re laughing and everyone from gf knows it’s a joke and they finish with the typical “i dos”

if anyone’s late to the wedding

it’d be so characteristic of mabel to rush in during the speak now part but she’s standing next to dipper so she can’t. otherwise idk???

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

dipper has mabel and robbie. paz has wendy and tambry.

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

wendy and tambry wear straight-down, almost gauzy lavender dresses with baby blue accents and accessories. mabel wears a same stye dress in baby blue with lavender accents and accessories. robbie wears a black tux and baby blue tie. 

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

mabel tells embarrassing but sweet stories, wendy recalls the first time she caught them together. robbie uses the whole thing as a lead up to threatening dipper not to hurt her even tho it’s been at least a decade and maybe half of a second one. the floor opens up and ford recounts some sweet memory of the two of them. stan tries to make jokes the whole time but walks away trying not to cry. soos spends ten minutes trying to compare them to anime characters. it’s like an hour and a half of speeches alone as most of gravity falls recount watching them grow up and fall in love and the whole thing makes them embarrassed and cry at the same time.

who catches the bouquet( s )

mabel! she then winks at wendy and it’s…ridiculous.

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

mostly sweet ones of them smiling or kissing. there’s one taken by chance with paz chasing after him in her heels and he’s like, fucking giggling as he takes off with her tiara. the next one is her glaring up at him as he sheepishly puts it back in her hair. just a lot of photos to document their relationship. mabel puts them in an album and has it waiting on their kitchen table when they get back from their honeymoon.

what sort of food they have at the reception

since paz is (possibly) the only one w heritage at this wedding he let her do the food planning according to tradition and everyone is like, pleasantly surprised that it works as well as it does.

who cries first during the ceremony

they both make it through the walk down the aisle but then they’re standing there and it’s real and they’re both crying. pretty crying though so they don’t ruin the photos too much.

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

the main three steal the mini putt golf cart again for fun and drive it through the reception for like, half an hour laughing their heads off.

what their rings are like

pacifica’s wedding ring is a simple silver band, while her engagement ring is silver with a big white diamond center, surrounded by lavender-colored gems. dipper has a thick-silver band with an inscription. pacifica’s engagement ring also has an inscription. they both say “you’re the worst.” with a heart shape next to it.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

pacifica’s are lavender tiara-shaped candles and dipper’s are mini journals to write in about what happens that night of memories that person has of them. also capias bc i LOVE that idea!

where they go for their honeymoon

i feel like they’d go on a cruise

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

tambry and robbie are found sleeping in a coat closet as the night is winding down. wendy and mabel draw on their faces.

who officiates the ceremony

i think it’d be ford for some reason. if jewish!dipper is a thing he gets to hire the rabbi.

what song their first dance is to

i want at least one of these to be in spanish but idk if that’s gonna happen bc i….don’t speak spanish. but i thought this song had a gorgeous enough vibe for it. plus y’all know paz would be scouring websites and things for songs for this dance and then asking dipper if he’d like them. i’ve just always seen first dance songs as soft and slow and a time to reflect on being married you know? so this one would be performed live and slowed-down a bit.

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

honestly paz gives herself away okay. she’s been w/o parents this long and she doesn’t need them now. but suddenly stan has stood up and takes her by the hand and just calmly passes her to dipper like it was all planned and for half a second she’s rly confused but then she’s swept up in the ceremony. she asks him at the reception and he just shrugs and goes “you’re family. it’s what we do for family.” and that’s it so she’s even more confused. but also rly touched.

[madokasoratsugu]

to good fortune and luck

[rod/lucette; post-canon (good end)]

summary: five blessings Lucette receives from the people dearest to her.(and the one blessing she'll never beg for.)

a/n: i really like them /chinhands/. i also really like lucette metaphorically giving the middle finger. as usual pls read on ao3 bc tumblr probs didnt catch all my italics and stuff lmao

read on ao3

1.

“Lucette, you’re with Rod, are you not?”

Lucette’s hand comes to a perfect standstill. Gently setting the teacup back down on its saucer, she forces herself to meet Ophelia’s eyes.

There is no judgement in her patient gaze, but no doubt either.

Lucette doesn’t allow herself a second breath, a second thought of denial to run through her mind.

“Yes.”

The spring breeze flips pages of a book Emelaigne left open on the picnic blanket. The owner is nowhere to be seen, having dragged her brother off to procure more baked goods.

“I see.”

Ophelia quietly smiles. It’s tinged with pain, and the expression cuts deeper into Lucette than she likes.

“Then I suppose i’ll have to dig out my wedding veil. It’ll need some work, but I hope you won’t mind. It’s always been a tradition in my family to pass down the veil as an heirloom.”

Lucette blinks. Her hand is shaking too badly to lift her teacup to her dry mouth.

“Of course not.” Lucette manages. She blinks harder, and tries to suck in a discrete breath. “Your lacework has always been lovely.”

Ophelia’s smile grows. It’s still dampened at the edges, but in Ophelia’s sudden embrace, it’s clear as day to Lucette that the grief isn’t directed at her.

Rather, it exists for her.

Not for the first time, Lucette mumbles thanks to her mother, who loved Lucette so deeply she suffered tenfold at the thought of Lucette ever, ever being hurt.

Who would support her, even if the world wouldn’t.

2.

“When you get married to Rod - .” Emelaigne stops to sigh dreamily, and Lucette secretly loves it; the way Emelaigne uses her words, the way she says ‘when’ and not ‘if’, ‘married’ and not anything less.

“When the both of you get married, I want to arrange your bouquet.” Emelaigne flops backwards onto her bed, spreading her arms out above her.

A wide grin stretches on her face. “It’s the only thing i’m better than you at, so you can’t say no!”

Lucette laughs, pressing her hands into her lap. “Why would I?”

Emelaigne pulls herself up as abruptly as she laid down. “Maybe because you already have someone else you want to do it, or someone more qualified, or - .”

“Em.”

Emelaigne pouts. “Okay, okay. That means no one, right? Then i’ve called dibs!”

She pauses, eyes dipping to one side that hints at something else.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Lucette asks gently, prodding Emelaigne’s side.

“Well….” Emelaigne flushes.

She reaches to her nightstand, opening the drawer to reveal a matte silver box.

Handing it to Lucette, she motions for the auburn to open it.

White stargazer lilies bloom outwards, surrounded by artistic sprigs of lily-of-the-valley and baby’s breath.

Lucette slowly lifts the beautifully decorated golden barrette, wide eyed.

“I know I’m jumping the gun here, but.” Emelaigne clasps her hands before her middle, smiling hopefully. “It’s an engagement gift. I noticed your old one was fraying at it’s petals.”

“It’s lovely, Em.” Lucette breathes.

Every petal was angled with dedication, faux beads of water giving life to the mini bouquet.

“It’d look nicer if Rod would just propose already, so you could wear it.”

Lucette bursts into giggles, red faced.

She’s welling with embarrassment and childish glee unbefitting a princess, but with Emelaigne laughing by her side, Lucette cannot imagine herself as anything else.

3.

“Take this.”

Fritz shoves a practice sword against Rod’s chest. He stands towering before Lucette’s door, shielding Rod from any passerby’s sight.

“Go back using the South staircase behind the kitchen. There shouldn’t be anyone using it at this time, but if there is, tell them you were having a private training session with me. If they try badgering you for any more information, just mention the name Varg.”

Rod nods once, before walking briskly away, immaculately dressed like Lucette is not.

She shuffles backwards in her nightgown, uncertain. It wouldn’t do to have her knight see her like this.

It wouldn’t do to have her knight see her secret lover sneaking out of her room either, but there’s that.

Still, all Fritz does is send her a reassuring smile. “We still have half an hour, princess. Plenty of time to get ready for breakfast.”

When Lucette next exits her room, everything is encased in silk, pressed out of sight with powder.

It takes everything in her to look at Fritz directly.

“With five minutes to spare. Let’s hurry, though.”

At the sight of Fritz’s warm grin, the coldness in her middle melts. Yet a chunk of ice remains as she stands before the dining hall doors.

A sick feeling grows in her. She doubts it’s the overpowering scent of syrup, this time.

Still, the sticky feeling of the silenced topic that hangs in the air tastes just like it, if only not as sweet.

“Princess, want to know a magic trick?”

Bewildered, Lucette turns to see Fritz drawing two strokes diagonally away from each other on his palm three times before he mimes eating it.

“I heard its a spell for confidence.”

The half-witch feels her face twitch with a smile.

“I can tell you that is not true.”

“But I can tell you that the fact that i’ll support you no matter what is.” Fritz says, knowing, understanding. “I hope at least that inspires confidence.”

Lucette stares at Fritz, at the streak of black that curls around one side of his face, the bright curve of his lips and remembers the way her silver knight had tamed his wolf just to serve by her side.

“It does.”

And Lucette pushes the doors open herself.

4.

“Are you adjusting well to the Tenebrarum?” Waltz asks, grinning wildly.

“As well as you are to your role as magical advisor to the kingdom.” Lucette immediately replies, cracking a smile at their silly inside joke.

Waltz chuckles, patting the space beside him on the wide fountain rim.

“You look tired, little star.”

“Secrets are hard things to keep.” Lucette says, shaking her head as she sits.

“You’re doing quite well, for one of this magnitude.” Waltz says, stroking her hair, and Lucette allows herself to indulge in his pampering.

“Although I do have something that might help.”

Waltz pulls out a tiny drawstring bag, and tips out from it a pair of earrings.

Attached to delicate white gold clasps, the clear blue crystals capture shooting stars within streaks of white.

Lucette cannot hold back her startled gasp.

“They’re blue kyanite. It helps with balance, communication, and fresh beginnings.” Waltz explains. “Perfect for you and Rod.”

Putting them on, Lucette delights in the way they gently reflect the starry expanse above. “Thank you.”

Still, the thought of what Waltz’s encouragement entails makes her happiness falter.

“I just wish - .” Lucette says, words trailing off, full of unfinished thoughts and endless desires.

“So do I.” Waltz hums. “We all do.”

Lucette laughs at the philosophy, and Waltz doesn’t hold back his smile.

“But you’ll do more than that, won’t you little star?”

Lucette yelps as he picks her up, spinning her around once before settling her on his arm.

“You’ll grant your wishes, because that’s what stars do, with a little help. You’ll be happy, and you’ll shine like all stars deserve to.”

Waltz looks at her with such pride and fondness that Lucette laughs aloud again, a little breathless, a little choked.

Within the arms of her closest friend who never stopped believing in her, Lucette thinks that it’s time she repaid that with some belief in herself, too.

5.

“You let your hair down.” Rod murmurs, twirling a loose lock with his forefinger.

“I am supposed to be in bed right now.” Lucette says, glancing at the high moon.

Rod smiles ruefully, in a way that implies she stay, in a manner that asks to be kissed.

So Lucette does, carefully, gently, and relishes in his returning tilt of his head.

Moving apart, Rod hesitates. His fixed stare on Lucette inspires a slight smile, a rising blush.

At that tender expression, he turns to take a plain box behind him on the window seat, resting it on his lap.

“I couldn’t get a ring.” Rod starts slowly, with eyes averted. “Not as myself. And I didn’t want anyone else to do it for me. So I….”

He opens the shoebox, and Lucette claps her hands over her mouth.

Intricate silver filigree vines twine up the heels and partway down the side of her glass slippers, with miniature stargazer lily blossoms by the counter, supported by well placed leaves.

“A silver sixpence in her shoe, right?” Rod says softly, smiling.

Trapped between a sob and a laugh, all Lucette can do is watch as Rod gets down on one knee before her, as his bandaged fingers cradle the glass heels, her hand.

The grip of their interlaced fingers hurt.

“Lucette Riella Britton, will you marry me?”

“I will.”

The words tumble out easier than she thought it would have.

Salty tears roll down her face, and she finds Rod tastes the same when he leans forward to seal the promise.

“I will.” Lucette breathes, again, pressed against the glass window as pleasantly cold as the heels on her feet.

“I took some liberties with the rhyme.” Rod confesses, running a hand through her long hair. “But I still wish I could have given you more.”

“This is plenty.” Lucette says, tilting her head up to look in Rod’s eyes. “This is more than I dreamed of. You’re more than I dreamed of.”

Rod kisses her on the jaw, just below her ear, and Lucette sighs helplessly.

“Don’t go back tonight.” Rod says aloud, this time.

Lucette thinks there isn’t any need to tell her that, not when her solace is already embracing her tight.

“I never intended to.”

And when Rod laughs, brilliant and jubilant and filled with infinite hope, Lucette feels on the verge of tears, on the verge of everything all at once.

But with his every kiss, every touch, Lucette finds herself coming back down, coming back to her tingling senses, coming back home to Rod.

Some secrets are worth keeping.

But in his embrace, Lucette thinks this is not a secret she wants to keep.

Not anymore.

0.

The throne room falls eerily silent.

Genaro stares at Lucette and Rod, and their connected hands.

Lucette’s announcement has swallowed the atmosphere whole, echoing in the whispers of the maids, in the minds of all occupants present.

“An engagement.” Genaro finally speaks, laboured and confused. “With Rod?”

Lucette doesn’t answer the rhetorical question.

“Why?”

“Why not?” Lucette says, less of a challenge and more of a statement.

In the conflict of denying his blood daughter the only thing she’s ever asked of him, Genaro turns helplessly to Ophelia standing beside.

“Listen to them.” Ophelia encourages, and Genaro’s eyes grow wide at the realisation of being the only one left in the dark.

Genaro turns towards the pair again, expression somber.

“Lucette.” He tries again, brows furrowing.

Genaro sinks deeper into his throne, pinches the bridge of his nose. “I apologise. This is all...quite a lot to take in.”

Lucette does not tell him to take his time.

At the side of the room, Emelaigne shifts from one foot to another anxiously, while Fritz keeps a steady hand on his sword’s hilt. Waltz doesn’t tell him to let up, not when the sparks of a protective barrier dance upon the fingertips of his hand behind his back.

Genaro sucks in a breath.

“I cannot approve of this union.” He says heavily. “Not for the sake of Angielle.”

“You abandoned me for it, too.”

Genaro’s eyes fly open, taken aback by Lucette’s words.

“You misunderstand me, father. I have never asked you for anything. I would not start now.”

Weathered lacework chuffs at her wrists as she raises a hand to press against her chest, hair pinned back with nearly-alive sprigs of lilies and baby’s breath fastened by gold.

Her palm burns with borrowed courage carved with nails; white stars caught in blue crystals glinting as she holds her head high.

Glass and silver making a clean, crisp sound as she takes a single step forward.

Blessings don’t just belong in magic folktales, in old wives' tales; they come in words and gifts, and love.

“This isn’t me seeking your acceptance, father.”

Rod’s grip anchors her, reminds her who it is she goes home to, who it is that taught her what it meant to be loved.

Who it was that held her during her darkest hours, who became the light of her future.

“This is a declaration.”

[xxx-strangeandunusual-xxx]

True to his word, Betelgeuse didn't leave her until she descended back into dreams unencumbered by mischievous visitors. When she awoke, there was a light filtering through the curtains that was just a bit too orange to originate from any sun. Almost immediately, disorientation faded away and she remembered where she was and why she was there; naked, cold, and needing to pee. With quick, impatient movements, she ambled out of his coffin, donned his bathrobe, and tried a door. She really was not looking forward to using his filthy bathroom, but the call of nature must be heeded. To her astonishment, she found the previously disgusting room clean. The tiles sparkled so clearly she could see her reflection, not a speck of dirt or grime to be found on pristine porcelain. There was a sticky note attached to the mirror written in a barely legible chicken scratch that could only be Betelgeuse's script.

Sexy Bendy Little Sugartits--

When u wake up the spider & bonehead will probs make u food. Don’t eat from worm bucket in fridge that’s mine. I fixed bathroom for u. Soap in shower probably not the best but I don’t remember what that’s like. Hang around for as long as u want/can. Check dresser 4 good surprise. See u later. XOXO

Instead of signing it with his name or initials, her husband had drawn a little cartoon beetle with heart eyes. It was clutching its chest, swooning, overcome with emotion. Lydia swooned a little herself and tucked the sticky note away somewhere she wouldn't forget it. She would have to keep it for the photo album she intended to dedicate to him. The soap he referred to didn't come in plastic bottles, but glass mason jars. It looked homemade, like a bored housewife's DIY project. Briefly, Lydia wondered if he stole it from the Patels, or the live people haunting their house, before dismissing the thought. It was a sweet gesture and she wasn't about to dissect it.

The "surprise" the note alluded to almost made her cry. He got her a camera. An expensive, digital, top of the line piece of equipment. It wasn't her beloved polaroid, but something else entirely. This was professional grade, still in the box, as though he walked into a store and bought it just that morning. It took everything in her to resist tearing it open and playing with it right that second. She had plenty of time, and there other things that deserved her attention. Now that the bathroom was properly cleaned, Lydia could see that he had a jacuzzi tub, like the kind in Delia and her father's master bath. With this discovery, she indulged. She drew a bath, garnishing the water with some oil from one of the jars that smelled like cupcakes. Around the porcelain perimeter were several short-stemmed candles stolen from his room. He had a ton of them. Why? Lydia was sure she would find out one day.

The brown sugar scrub smelled delightful and she lathered it generously across her skin. She spent the entire morning in his tub; lazing, indulging, floating on a cloud of pleasant emotions. She felt so loved. So cared for. She never wanted to leave, not if this was what their life together would look like. Alas, it was a beautiful fantasy. Eventually, she was able to drag herself from the steaming waters and redress in another one of his shirts- the maroon silk top she'd stopped him from wearing the previous night. Like the other, it drowned her. Unable to resist the urge anymore, she tore into her new camera, settling down at his desk to play and tinker until she was confident she understood how it worked. Then, she grew a backbone enough to emerge from the room. Ginger was found in the kitchen, four of her eight arms hard at work, each holding a different utensil and performing a different task.

"Do you need any help?" The spider, well invested in her cooking, jumped in fright at the sound, spilling a pot of something slimy, green, and moaning all over the counter. "Oh!" Lydia jumped to action, grabbing a towel to help sop up the mess. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."

"Honey, don't worry about it. This is nothin'. Ya hungry? BeeJay said ya might be. There's some leftover cookies ovuh there," she gestured across the room with a free arm, shooing Lydia away so she could take care of the rest of the mess on her own. Reluctantly, Lydia acquiesced, settling down on a bar seat and carefully picking at one of the gingersnap cookies. Given time, their hot temperament had cooled some, and they didn't attempt nipping at her fingers like the previous night. "Is that all Beteljerk gave you to wear?" Ginger inquired to Lydia, a mild scowl turning her fuchsia lips. "JACQUES!" She yelled out suddenly without giving Lydia time to respond. "COME WATCH THE STOVE FUH A MINUTE, I NEED TO MAKE MISS LYDIA SOME NICE-UH CLOTHES!"

Make?

"Oui, oui, mon amour," Jacques answered obediently, sweeping through the entryway to take over for Ginger. "Good morning, Miss Lydia! We are so pleased to be having you here. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a dream," Lydia replied smilingly, amused by their antics. "You really don't have to bother, Ginger. I don't mind wearing his shirt. It's comfy."

"Well," Ginger frowned, unconvinced, and ushered Lydia from the room, "I mind. Besides, I have just the thing fuh you! S'been awhile since I've had a model as cute as you ta work for."

The girl blushed, deeply flattered, and silenced all further protest, allowing herself to be pulled through a door that read Ginger in bright pink glitter, like the kind that could be seen backstage at a show belonging to a diva. Everything in her room was pink; dark pink, light pink, fuchsia, magenta, coral, rose, peach, and salmon.

"Wow," Lydia commented politely with large eyes, working very hard to hide her distaste. Claire Brewster would love it in here.

"Let's see," Ginger took a moment to look her up and down, "what're ya, four foot ten? Four eleven?"

"Nine," the girl confessed smallishly, blush deepening.

"Precious," the spider smiled, oblivious to Lydia's embarrassment at her size, and proceeded to flurry around her, rapidly taking her measurements. "Perfect. Okay, now sit tight fuh just a minute while I work my magic." She gathered a bundle of black fabric from her dresser, then red, and went to work. She moved with supernatural fluidity, weaving the fabric together with talented inhuman limbs. "Try this," she ordered, tossing a pile of black to Lydia before beginning work on the red fabric now. The girl slipped behind the old-fashioned changing screen and worked herself into the gifted garment. It was a bodysuit. It encased her from neck to wrist to ankle, an expertly concealed zipper running down the front. The fabric was warm, but not overly so, and quite breathable, and hugged her like a second skin.

"Thank you," Lydia breathed in wonder as she stepped out from behind the screen, unable to stop running her hands across the soft fabric.

"Don't thank me yet," Ginger smirked, satisfied with her work, and handed the girl another bunch of textile. This one was red, silken, and boasted a delicate spiderweb pattern. "Now, you can thank me." It was a hooded poncho, so light and airy Lydia could hardly feel it over the bodysuit. The ends draped down to the ground both in back and front, completely hiding her figure from view, though glimpses of her silhouette could be glanced from the sides. "Lovely, absolutely lovely. I've outdone myself. Now, come come, lemme do somethin' with all that hair o' yours."

Lydia, now completely confident in the spider's abilities, was content to let herself be used as a dress-up doll and obediently sat before the spider's vanity. Distantly, she realized that Ginger didn't have a reflection, but was too mesmerized watching her hair move by itself in the mirror to question it. The Maitlands and Betelgeuse didn't have a reflection, so this told her Ginger was definitely a dead person. Why, then, was she a spider? Why did they even have mirrors down here if they didn't work? Within minutes, Ginger had worked most of her hair into an intricate updo held in place by a rich violet ribbon.

"There. Perfect."

[flushed-feels]

Not just another high school play || Crush Imagine

Pairing : you / your crush

Warnings : cursing (will probs be in all of my imagines sorry), light fluff, mushy stuff (ish)

Word count : 1,295

✩

The paintbrush accidentally falls from my hand and onto the stage with a plop. Oh shit! I run to the supply closet and grab drop cloths to wipe it up with quickly, looking around to make sure my director isn't witnessing the mess that is me.

Not just another high school play. That's the high school play were doing this year. And I, as lucky as I am, am playing the part of actress number one while also living a double life as the set design manager.

Today is the day before the first show and everyone's freaking out, as per usual. Most people are back stage, getting fitted and practicing their lines. Some are even getting their makeup done already. But me, yes, me, I'm the only one actually doing anything productive. There was a last minute mix up and I have to repaint a whole slide, by myself. Well, for now. Y/f should be here anytime to take over for me so I can go get ready.

Y/c, my crush who works in the construction area (ik hot) walks by to see me cleaning the floor suspiciously and laughs.

"Aw, did you drop another paint brush?" He's teasing me, obviously. That's what we have, a love hate relationship.

"Possibly." I avoid eye contact at all costs. Behind his chunky glasses, he has these bright green eyes and I just know that if I look up I might start stuttering again. And how pathetic would that be?

"Clumsy clumsy y/n" he tsks, shaking his head disapprovingly before leaving me alone on the stage.

I let out a sigh of relief when he's finally gone, happy I made it through that without completely embarrassing myself. Adding the finishing touches to the slide, I nod in approval. The doors to the school suddenly fly open and I glance over to see who entered.

One look at the duo and I'm gone. Bolting, I run backstage. I slightly open the door and slide in to see that it's completely empty.

Where the legit fuck did everyone go? No joke, five seconds ago everyone was back here. It was so crowded I could barely move, or breath really!

As if reading my thoughts, Y/c suddenly appears next to me, leaning up against the hallway wall, "Most of them moved to the hallway by the locker room because it was too crowded."

"Ohh, and where did Miss Fille go?" I lean back against the wall opposite him, so that we're facing each other.

"She went to get pizza."

"Finally, I'm so hungry I could eat a small animal." 

He's laughing when I hear the voice of my worst enemy from outside of the hallway. Whom I may have possibly pissed off earlier today and am now completely ignoring. Thus the running away from the stage.

"Oh shit." I crack the door to the makeup closet and turn around to face my handsome companion, "I'm not here."

"Wait what?" With a confused look on his face, he approaches the closet, where I'm trying to hide.

"Kaitie an-"

I'm cut off my the sound of the door knob jiggling.

"No time to explain." I grab his hand and pull him into the closet, shutting the door softly behind me.

"Ya know, if you wanted to be in a closet alone with me you could've just waited until later. Logan's hav-"

"Shhh," I press my finger against his lips. His soft, plump, luxurious, dang it I'm off task again! That's when it hits me what he just said, "wait what?" I whisper.

"I may have possibly asked Logan to rig the games at his party tonight so we could be together."

"What, why?" Even though he can't see me, I hope my cheeks aren't completely red from the news that he might actually like me.

"Y/n, I really like you."

"Really?"

"A lot actually."

The smile spreads on my face by accident and I can feel my cheeks turning red.

"I like you too."

"Seriously? Like you're not just messing with me?" He comes to life beside me and for a second I forget why were here in the first place.

Giggling to myself I slightly shush him, "No, I'm not messing with you. I just didn't think you liked me back."

His hand reaches out to grab mine and I can't help the butterflies filling my stomach as he intertwines our fingers. He tugs on my hand to pull me closer and my the smile on my face turns into an ear to ear grin.

One hand around my waist and the other intertwined with mine, he leans in, his lips just barely hovering over mine when I lean in to meet him in the middle.

My lips crash into his and the fireworks start exploding. Not literally, but you get what I'm saying. Our lips move in sync, slow and soft, almost like we're testing the waters. I let go of his hand and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He moves his hands down to my waist, goosebumps appear on my skin as he pulls me against him.

The kiss intensifies as his tongue slips into my mouth. I absent mindlessly moan into the kiss and this clearly gives him some confidence as he detaches our lips and starts to leave rough kisses on my neck. I try my hardest not to moan, knowing anybody could be outside of the closet. Though this proves difficult as he starts to nibble on the sensitive skin. I run my fingers through his hair and tug slightly at his blond ends, earning a groan in return.

Our lips reconnect and we're both leaning into each other, needing more. My back hits one of the closet walls with a soft 'oomph' as he leans over me, supported by the wall behind me.

He's pushed up against me and yet my arms are wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss. An accidental moan slips out of my mouth when we're so rudely interrupted.

"Pizzas here!" It's Nate, and he sounds far away but that's how it works when you have a loud voice.

We pull apart and I make sure to tug on his bottom lip with my teeth slightly.

He groans, leaning down to leave butterfly kisses on my neck.

"So, Logan's party..." He mumbles it between kisses and I don't have to see his face to know there's a joking smirk etched across it.

“Maybe we should think about how were gonna get out of here before we start thinking about that." I whisper lightly.

He mumbles an agreement against my neck and the vibrations send chills through my body.

Beep beep

He pulls away and rests an arm on the wall behind me, propping himself up to watch me pull my phone out.

I squint at the bright light but see I have multiple messages from Lexie

From: Y/f

Um, where are you?

From: Y/f

I'm just going to start putting things up, you finished the slide??

From: Y/f

Okay so Kaitie says you were here but then randomly disappeared, are you okay? Were you kidnapped?????

"Follow me, I think I've got this." He grabs my hand and creeps the door open slightly. Looking through the crack, he decides it's good enough and opens the door wide enough for us to get out.

Nobody is backstage, they’re probably eating pizza or something. Still holding my hand, he starts to lead me out of the drama hallway when I catch my reflection in the mirror in the prop room.

My hair is okay but my face is completely flushed and my lips are obviously swollen. The icing on the cake is the small, purple mark on my neck. Just great.

[thethespacecoyote]

“Passion, Postponed”

Rhys looked up, blindly fidgeting with his phone as he scanned the menu pasted to the side of the truck’s concession window. It sold mostly burgers and fries and usually Rhys opted for the dressed salad and patty nudged in the customary paper basket, but today….

Today that double cheeseburger with grilled onions and bacon lardons looked pretty damn good. And fries, while he was at it! Covered in cheese and more bacon.

His phone buzzed, snapping his attention from the menu and his food lust and back down to his phone. He narrowed his eyes at Jack’s message, sticking his lip out.

p good probs still gonna b late tonight tho.

Rhys heart fell, though he wasn’t sure what he expected. As the day went on and on, it grew less likely that Jack was going to surprise and spoil him with some lavish Valentine’s Day plans.

Just some Vday fluff! Modern AU where Rhys thinks Jack forgot what day it is, but he might not be totally correct... ;)

Jack was usually the one who made plans.

Dinners, hotels, flights—anything that needed a preemptive credit card payment. He knew enough about Rhys to make sure the kid’s tastes were always taken into question when he made arrangements, but he was still usually the one who had final say and, most importantly, put down the money.

So Rhys didn’t even bother making Valentine’s Day plans himself, figuring that Jack would take care of everything as he usually did. When he woke up on the morning itself, he found the bed empty and, with an eager little smile on his face, trundled down the stairs, expecting to find their entire kitchen flooded in decorations with the smell of french toast cooking on the stove—but instead he found nothing but the normal kitchen and the normal table and the normal breakfast of cereal and the normal Jack with his hair just barely mussed into place and his tie hanging still loose around his unbuttoned collar.

“G’morning, babe,” Jack waved to him idly as he leaned his hip against the counter, listening to the bubble of the coffee maker. Rhys shot him a slight smile, expecting Jack to say a little more, but he didn’t, instead turning away when the bubbling pot dinged. He grabbed his bright yellow mug from the cabinet and poured the coffee, blowing it a few times before drinking it black.

Rhys skirted around the kitchen, words dancing on the tip of his tongue as he watched Jack’s back. A quick scan of the counters and table found no sign of presents or cards or anything one might expect from their loved one on Valentine’s day. Rhys creased his brows in suspicion, wondering if he should be the first to break the silence on the holiday, but what if his presents were out in the living room? Jack was a reluctant morning person, always needing his coffee before he could pull together his humanity and drive to tackle the day—maybe Rhys’ gifts were out in the living room, and as soon as Jack was done having his coffee, he’d take him there.  

So he kept mostly quiet, pouring his cereal and eating it as he leaned up against the counter, watching Jack as he sipped down the rest of his coffee before upending the mug in the sink. Rhys smiled as Jack turned towards him, quickly swallowing the cereal in his mouth and setting the bowl on the counter—this was it.

Jack took his hands, grinned, and said—

“Do you know where my keys are, Rhysie?”

Rhys blinked, lips parting in confusion.

“I—ah, they’re by the plants” Rhys gestured dumbly behind him. Jack winked, sliding over to grab the keys from beside the little glass terrariums clustered by the sink (to best ensure watering.) Disappointment flooded through Rhys as Jack pocketed the keys, though he managed to recover his smile as Jack leaned back over and rubbed their noses together.    

“Love you, babe. I’ll see you after work, ‘kay?”

“Yeah?” Rhys brightened as Jack shrugged on his blazer, buttoning it over his stomach.

“Yeah. Might be a little late cause I got a meeting at like four, though. And you know how traffic is.”

“Oh.”  Rhys’ smile faltered. “Okay.”

Jack even kissed him goodbye like it was a normal day. No extra tongue or butt-grabbing or anything to show off Jack knew it was a special occasion, just a regular old peck on the lips. Rhys tried to keep his disappointment at bay as he waved Jack off, watching through the front windows as Jack’s car pulled down and out of the driveway, glossy finish reflecting the overcast sky as he drove off down the street and out of sight.

Rhys counted to five—watching and waiting to see if maybe Jack would figure it out, break to a halt and come barreling back with apologies and flowers and a pint of Rhys’ favorite ice cream. Or maybe the doorbell would ring and he’d be showered in flowers and a crisp invitation beckoning him to reservations at his favorite restaurant.

He waited a minute, two minutes. Three. Five. His only reward was more silence and the distant honking of a car alarm.

Rhys sighed, sticking out his lower lip as he it grew less and less likely that Jack was going to give him a morning surprise. He kept his attention on his phone, waiting on an apologetic text as he tossed out the now soggy cereal and went to grab some coffee, happy to find his boyfriend had at least had the foresight to brew a full pot of coffee and not drink at all.

Jeez. He was so lucky.

Rhys’ lunch hour offered another cup of coffee and a trip down to the food trucks that clustered in the plaza behind the Atlas building. He slipped his phone out of his pocket as he walked out into the sun, the smell of cooking meat and sizzling cheese filling his nose as he open up his text message. His stomach plummeted as he saw nothing from Jack—no “oh crap, I’m sorry I forgot Valentine’s Day Rhys, please forgive me!” or even any kind of cryptic message that might lead Rhys down the rabbit hole of hope to at least stave off the crawling disappointment for the rest of the day and actually allow him to get some work on instead of dwelling on the fact that his boyfriend was a huge jerk and seriously how could Jack forget Valentine’s Day?

Rhys huffed, his laptop bag bouncing uncomfortably against his hip as he got into line for his favorite truck, hoping he could distract himself with food. His fingers danced over his phone screen as he shuffled behind a businessman talking loudly on his bluetooth, skating out a couple of messages only to delete them seconds later.

He finally bit the bullet and tapped something out, hitting send as his heart leapt.

Hows work going?

He looked up, blindly fidgeting with his phone as he scanned the menu pasted to the side of the truck’s concession window. It sold mostly burgers and fries and usually Rhys opted for the dressed salad and patty nudged in the customary paper basket, but today….

Today that double cheeseburger with grilled onions and bacon lardons looked pretty damn good. And fries, while he was at it! Covered in cheese and more bacon.

His phone buzzed, snapping his attention from the menu and his food lust and back down to his phone. He narrowed his eyes at Jack’s message, sticking his lip out.

p good probs still gonna b late tonight tho.

Rhys heart fell, though he wasn’t sure what he expected. As the day went on and on, it grew less likely that Jack was going to surprise and spoil him with some lavish Valentine’s Day plans.

Oh ok. See you later.

Rhys sighed and put his phone back into his pocket, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

He could really use that burger.

Rhys pushed himself into work as soon as he finished his lunch break, trying to bury himself in numbers and code to forget about how pissed he was at his boyfriend. Unfortunately, the burger wasn’t sitting particularly well with him, his stomach gurgling and twisting and forcing him to go to the bathroom an embarrassing amount of times.

Rhys couldn’t very well blame his indigestion on Jack, but he was going to do it anyway.

He actually ended up getting off early—whether it was because he’d actually finished enough work, or if his boss had noticed his sullen mood and traitorous stomach—which would’ve been great on a normal day, or if he had plans to night, but considering he had nothing going on but bad feelings he really didn’t want to go home just to sit and wait around and watch television as he waited for Jack to finally get back from his job.

He glumly dragged himself to his car, stomach still turning from the remains of the burger as he slid into the driver’s seat. He checked his phone anyway, even though he hadn’t felt it buzz since Jack had messaged him back during lunch.

Of course, there was nothing. Rhys hissed, tossing his phone into the passenger’s seat as he started up the car.

The endless stop-start of fledgling rush hour traffic hammered further into his annoyance. Any patience he had left was stretched to its breaking point, and when the car in front of him stopped abruptly short and nearly sent his car sailing into its bumper he finally snapped, slapping the steering wheel in frustration and shouting so loud the reverb from his car doors left his ears ringing.

Finally, finally he peeled off the freeway and sailed into his neighborhood, any of his typical cursory respect for the suburban speed limit replaced by his need to be home and properly stewing in a nest of blankets and ice cream. Maybe he’d even break into Jack’s liquor cabinet and crack into that bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon he kept saying he was saving for a special occasion. It would really show him, and Rhys could get properly sloshed and forget about how every other couple in the neighborhood was probably already well on their way to their Valentine’s plans.

He dragged his feet up to the door, the clenching indigestion in his stomach replaced by a bitterness that soured all the way up to his chest. The porch light flicked on, even as the sun just barely started to set besides him. He wrinkled his nose, wondering just how late Jack would end up being. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for him to stay up working way past the time Rhys needed to go to bed if Hyperion so demanded his expertise.

Rhys sighed, adjusting the weight of his laptop bag against his shoulder as he opened the front door.

And then the air exploded.

Rhys squeaked as a pop resounded through his ears and he threw his hands up—terrified he’d accidentally run into a home intruder who was about to plug a bullet in his skull—only for a shower of glittery pink and red and white confetti rained down on him above. It drenched him like snow, catching in the folds of his clothes and peppering his hair as he gaped at the state of his house.

The entire foyer was draped in streamers, crisscrossing the ceiling of the entryway. The path  leading off towards the rest of his home was lined with twinkling baby pink fairy lights that guided Rhys eye, inviting him to explore the sudden festive dream that he’d suddenly been tossed into.

Glittery confetti shook from his clothes, leaving a garish trail behind him as he carefully stepped through the foyer. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of vanilla and strawberry the walls had been painted with. Beneath that, he could just barely detect the scent of broiling meat and steaming veggies, an odd savory smell undercutting the saccharine aroma that was choking the air inside the home.

Just when he was thinking that some crazy interior designer had broken into his house and drenched the entire thing in cloying decorations, he rounded the corner into the living room to find it in a similar state—draped in streamers, lights, heart-shaped balloons and confetti—but with Jack standing right in the center by the coffee table in a pristine white suite and pink shirt and a blood red tie that somehow still made him stand out even with the glut of similar colors stuffed all around him.

So, not a crazy person. Just Jack.

“Oh my god,” Rhys put his hands up to his face, cheeks blushing to match the decorations as he walked towards his boyfriend on numb legs, completely bowled over in surprise. Jack’s grin grew, knowing and devilish as he opened his arms wide, inviting Rhys in.

The tension in his chest now completely undone, Rhys quickly fell into his boyfriend’s embrace, burying his face against Jack’s shoulder. He inhaled deeply, rubbing his nose against the white fabric—Jack was wearing that cologne that Rhys endlessly expressed that he loved, the one that’d been discontinued, Jack explained, and thus needed to be rationed out for special occasions only.

“Easy, kid, don’t get your snot on the tux, it’s new,” Jack chuckled as he patted Rhys’ back. The young man snorted, lifting his head from Jack’s shoulders as he rubbed a hand over his nose, sniffling as he glanced at his boyfriend.  

“Sorry, I just….well, this morning, you didn’t so…I mean, I thought…”

“What? You didn’t think I really forgot, did ya?” Jack’s grin spread, eyes twinkling with mirth. “That’s so not like me.”

“I mean….I didn’t….I just….” Rhys stammered, still a little overwhelmed by the pink and red whirlwind that had stormed through their house, coupled with the fact that Jack had remembered what day it was, after all.

He shook his head, a relieved smile finally curling on his lips.

“Should have trusted you’d pull something out of your ass.”

“Out of my ass?” Jack balked, scandalized. “Rhysie, pumpkin, do you think you can just go to the store and get five pounds of confetti on Valentine’s Day? Not to mention everything else? This—“ he gestured about, “—was all planned weeks in advance.”

Rhys chuckled, turning his chin down to pick a bit of confetti off of his shirt.

“I guess you’re right…I’m a little surprised you didn’t get confetti in the shape of your face…” He squinted at the glittery little piece between his fingers. “It’s not, isn’t it?”

Jack hissed under his breath.

“Aw, damn, that would have been a great idea!” He snapped his fingers in mock frustration. “Gonna have to get those for my birthday.”

“Guess I’ll have to remember to order it custom when that time comes.” Rhys bumped his hips closer to Jack’s, lifting his arms to wrap them properly around his boyfriend’s shoulders. He swayed him softly, to the tune of the romantic music drifting from the unusually subdued stereo, as Jack’s hands rubbed along Rhys’ hips and tugged at the hem of his shirt.

“There’s a change of clothes hanging for ya in the hall closet, baby,” Jack breathed over his ear, “why don’t you go slip into that before we have dinner?”

“Jack, no—“

“Don’t worry, it’s something tasteful,” Jack snickered as he pulled away, hand lifting from Rhys’ hip to take his chin in hand, thumb tip rubbing tenderly against his lower lip, “which isn’t to say I don’t have some other surprises set up for when we make it up to the bedroom.”

Rhys shivered as Jack’s thumb darted ever so briefly between the warm break between his lips. Maybe it was the smell of braising steak that’d whet his palate, but he almost stuck his tongue out to get a taste of Jack’s finger.

Easy.

“Food first,” Rhys stated as Jack released his chin, though he still trailed his finger down the bob of Rhys’ throat, “I definitely want you to pamper me with your cooking before i have to do all the work in bed.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna make you eat those words, cupcake. But only after you eat everything I’ve been slaving over all afternoon.”

He patted Rhys’ back, turning and nudging him in the direction of the hall closet, where Rhys indeed found a perfectly tailored suit instead of some kind of gaudy novelty lingerie. It matched Jack’s with the exception of the bright blue shirt that made him truly stand out against the clusterfuck of Valentine’s colors that had consumed his house.

Rhys questioned the practicality of white suits considering they were about to sit down to a meal of steak no doubt slathered in one of Jack’s signature sauces, but as Rhys strode out and smiled at his boyfriend and took his hand and let him kiss him and dote on him and lead him to the perfectly set dining room table where Jack had already cracked open the Screaming Eagle and poured it out into their glasses, and as they both sit down to a meal softly lit by candlelight, Rhys finally says it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jack.”

Jack chuckled as he pulled out Rhys’ chair, kissing him on the temple as he sat down.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Rhysie.”

[its-love-u-asshole]

Carried Away [fic, sfw]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Dewa Masaomi

Rating: T

Summary: Dewa didn't know how he'd gotten into this situation, being in a fancy jewelry store with a shining new diamond necklace in front of him while a snippy yet mysteriously beautiful worker looked at him like he was a nuisance.

I wrote a random rarepair because I was in a mood and now I actually really like the pairing, whoops? Big thanks to @emeraldwaves​ for betaing this, I hope everyone enjoys! Comments are appreciated <3

Ao3 Version

Dewa never thought he'd meet someone more seemingly impassive than he was, but he wasn't one to frown on skepticism.

"That'll be ¥ 25000," the taller man spoke, his name tag reflected under the fluorescent lights of the jewelry store, as if highlighting every character. Fushimi Saruhiko.

"Ah yeah," Dewa sighed, swallowing thickly as those piercing blue eyes questioned him. After a beat of silence, Dewa reached for his wallet. He'd been in this store way too long, it was suffocating, though he was the only customer, and he didn't know why he wasn't rushing this along like he should've been.

Well, I know why, but I'm not going to admit it.

Dewa didn't know how he'd gotten into this situation, being in a fancy jewelry store with a shining new diamond necklace in front of him while a snippy yet mysteriously beautiful worker looked at him like he was a nuisance. Fushimi was insufferable, a bit rude too, not exactly the type of person Dewa was used to being attracted to, but yet, here he was. The signs were all there, his hands felt clammy and his skin itched, and he was hyper aware of every movement of the other man as he rang up his stuff.

Stuff. Diamond necklace. Jewelry store. Fushimi.

This was not how he expected the day to go. All he'd wanted to do was go get a quick drink, maybe lounge around the house and avoid Chitose for a few hours (even if Dewa didn't ache for his best friend anymore, he had no desire to hear the other gush about his first serious relationship in years. It was disgusting and way too mushy for him to stomach for more than never.)

So yeah, he really didn't get why he was here, but then again, he absolutely did. Why was it, even after he'd finally been able to move on from his unrequited crush, that everything seemed to come back to Chitose. Fucking Chitose, that asshole.

Dewa stared down at the shining diamond necklace in front of him, glaring at it as Fushimi unlocked the glass case to fetch something else. "Oh, I'll get the promotional item as well."

The phrase 'promotional item' caused another rush of irritation to course through him, and he was blindsided by the memory from earlier that morning.

"Aw c'mon man!" Chitose whined to him, looking equal parts stressed and panicked as he tried to keep up with Dewa's quick pace. Maybe if he walked fast enough, Chitose would get tired, and Dewa could have his drink in peace. Nope. Chitose tugged on his arm, and damn he was surprisingly strong, because Dewa was effectively yanked back. "I really need you to do this for me! I forgot I have a later shift at work, but I need that necklace by tonight!"

Dewa turned slowly, giving him a long, suffering look, as if to say 'you know I'm going to give in because you're my best friend but I want you to know I hate you so much.' Chitose grinned sheepishly, putting his hands together in a begging gesture, and they were starting to get some weird looks...

"Look, it's our anniversary and my new job gave me a pay advance," Chitose continued, trying to seem as small as possible. "So I wanted to get her something nice! I'll give you the money you need, you just have to pick it up alright? Pleeaassseee."

Feelings or no feelings, no one was able to tolerate Chitose's complaining very long, though Dewa considered himself pretty good at it, and eventually he gave in. He could always get a drink near the mall. "...fine."

"Yes! Thanks man!" Chitose slid a comforting arm around Dewa's shoulders, and he leaned away in a last ditch attempt to be spiteful. Then again, he wasn't a child, and he soon relaxed into the contact, admitting defeat and rolling with it as best he could. Well, until Chitose leered at him, lips quirking into an irritating smirk that only spelled trouble. "And hey, the necklace comes with free earrings, I'll let you keep those, I'm sure they'll help woo a girl no prob--"

Dewa tripped him.

He'd been weirdly pissed about the comment, mostly for reasons he couldn't blame his best friend for. For one, it was a reminder that he didn't have anyone to woo, and second, if he did, it certainly wouldn't be a girl.

But, these things were his own issues to deal with. He'd brushed it off pretty quickly after that, content with running the small errand and having an excuse to eat mall food instead of cooking for himself.

Now though, as the earrings were placed in front of him, a whole new swarm of feelings swirled in his gut, and they were no longer ones of longing or irritation.

This has to be a joke...

The earrings were small studs, obviously high quality but not expensive enough to be risky as a free gift alongside the necklace. However, it was the color which had Dewa looking to the sky as if some deity (maybe Chitose, who seemed to defy logic when it came to being an unwanted wing man) had forsaken him. The earrings were a striking blue, identical to Fushimi's eyes and Dewa had to bite his tongue from commenting on it, keeping his face neutral and he looked back up to the other.

"Is there a problem?" Fushimi sighed, as if silently adding 'please say no.' It had Dewa's lips quirking into an amused smile, his breathing coming to a halt when he thought he saw Fushimi's eyes look him over and I have no idea how to flirt anymore.

He'd never really had a reason to flirt after all, being in love with one's straight best friend robs one of that ability, so yeah. He'd never had a desire to flirt otherwise, and now that he kind of did, he was lost.

Dewa always appeared calm, rational, and he honestly wasn't the type to flirt at all, much less in public, but he had to say something.

Just then, he caught a glimmer of something in Fushimi's ear, and he was fully convinced that Chitose had finally transcended existential boundaries, and had taken his rightful place as the patron saint of single men. It was an earring, a stud, right in Fushimi's cartilage, and Dewa might not have been a flirt, but he was observant.

"I like your earring," Dewa mused, eyeing the multicolored stone which reflected blues, reds, and greens. Odd, but cool. "It looks good on you."

People (Chitose and Eric) often made fun of him for his simple way of putting things, but Dewa was apparently proving them wrong, because the comment earned him an embarrassed little scowl and a flush from the other, who instinctively reached up to fiddle with the stud in his ear.

Damn it, that's not fair either.

"Whatever...it's a cheap one," Fushimi went on, the self-deprecating nature of the words not going unnoticed by Dewa. "Can't afford the ones here..."

"They're pretty nice, they'd look good on you too," Dewa went on, aware that he was overstaying his welcome but not caring. "Do you have other piercings?"

It might've been a mistake on his part to ask such a personal question, or a blessing. The world may never know.

Fushimi's eyebrows shot up in mild surprise, before his whole, uninterested demeanor seemed to shift, his mouth rising to form a very self-satisfied smirk that had Dewa's pulse racing in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time.

Again, not fair.

"Oh? That's a bit bold isn't it?" Fushimi leaned forward, not losing the taunting lilt in his voice.

Dewa was being provoked, he knew it, and he wasn't one to rise to the bait in most situations, but today was an exception to a lot of things. "How so?"

"Well, that's something you'd have to find out for yourself," Fushimi went on, tapping the stud in his ear teasingly as his other hand rested on his chest, and the innuendo was finally processed in Dewa's brain. "Isn't it?"

Dewa's fists clenched, and he didn't miss the way Fushimi leaned in, as if to challenge, and Dewa was lost in a sea of blue he didn't want to find his way out of.

What now? He didn't know how this worked. Maybe he was being mocked, he hardly looked smooth anyways. Not in his tattered jeans and fake leather jacket, with his hat to hide his bedhead fixed on crookedly. If only he'd known...he would've worn jeans without holes in them.

Fushimi's eyes flicked down to his lips, and Dewa moved to close the distance as if he was on autopilot, when the sound of the door jingling forced him to stop. He could hear another customer being greeted by an attendant somewhere behind him, and he slid away when the footsteps got closer as the customer perused the selection.

Perhaps the deity of single men had forsaken him after all.

Or it was just all in my head.

Still, the half-lidded nature of Fushimi's eyes hadn't faltered yet, as if he were anticipating something but not wanting to seem too eager, and regardless of what Dewa wanted in his heart of hearts, it scared him away.

It scared him, how much he was attracted to Fushimi, and how interesting he found him. He wanted to know more about him, about why he was insecure despite being so alluring, why he worked at the damn jewelry store, what he thought about the afterlife, any complex or insignificant detail. It was overwhelming, and his first instinct was to retreat.

That's what he was used to. Retreating, exiting before he got carried away, because with Chitose, he couldn't get carried away.

He hadn't been able to shake that yet.

"Maybe if I'm lucky then," Dewa whispered finally, leaning away from the counter and breaking the tense eye contact with reluctance. He knew when and when not to push, and it wasn't like he never came to this mall. Maybe there'd be other opportunities.

Ha.

Those were his excuses for backing away, and he knew they were all bullshit. Something in his gut told him to stop being such a coward, but he was already walking away as if to make his exit, and he didn't want to be awkward.

It's worth the risk, his brain unhelpfully supplied.

Fushimi gave a slow hum, as if expecting more, and maybe the disappointed sound coupled with that pretty face ignited something inside him, because Dewa set his jaw and narrowed his eyes, determination running through him. No. How many years had he been forced to be a coward? In love with someone who'd never love him back? What was there to lose?

Nothing, if he thought about it clearly.

"Thanks," Dewa said shakily, collecting the bag with the diamond necklace as he slid the blue earrings forward towards Fushimi.

Nothing at all.

The taller eyed him curiously, eyebrow quirking in confusion as Dewa made a move to leave the item behind. "These come with it you know..."

Barely hiding his grin, Dewa glanced back over his shoulder to see the slightest, most rewarding flush dance on Fushimi's cheeks. "I know, but they match your eyes better."

Fushimi's jaw dropped a bit, and Dewa wasn't one to fist pump, but man, he probably could've.

And after that, instead of being allowed to leave, Fushimi called him back, insisting that there was something he'd 'forgotten' to tell him about his purchase.

Yes, a fist pump would've probably been appropriate.

--

As Dewa exited the mall, stuffed pretzel in hand, he thought he really would have to thank Chitose in the end. The day hadn't gone exactly according to plan, but hopefully his date Friday night would.