#the second was meant to be a doodle-post and uh...well it looks like it at least!

[castaccio]

I know people dislike the implications of Shadows of Rose, but consider:

The spirits watch over Rose for her whole life. (Read Left to Right)

[thetriggeredhappy]

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

-

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

-

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

-

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently. 
And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

-

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

-

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”

“What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

-

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.

[canvas-the-florist]

Two Halves Make a Whole

Ship(s): Romantic Logince, Background Platonic Moxiety, Platonic Dukeceit, Creativitwins (they’re all friends okay I make the rules)

Warnings: Swearing, blood mention and mutilation of meat, alcohol mention, NSFW mention (not that much just like… saying someone had sex in a sentence), food mention, possible second hand embarrassment

Summary: The thing about idioms is that Logan has a hard time understanding them metaphorically, and tends to stick with the more logical reasons. Which can be confusing to the others when he starts calling Roman his “other half”. (Thank you to @hteragram-x for letting me use their post as inspiration <3)

Word Count: ~2.7k

-

   They had just finished up recording a video. Something about accepting trauma and accepting that you’re allowed to move on from it. Thomas went up to his room for a nap while Patton walked over to sit by Virgil on the stairs. Roman wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulders with a big smile. “You did so well, Pocket Protector! Not as well as me but I’m sure you’ll catch up soon!”

   Logan rolled his eyes and moved out from under Roman’s arm and crossed his. “Thanks. You were… adequate as well. Despite messing up a three sentence line five times.”

   Roman let out a loud scoff attracting the attention of Patton and Virgil. Patton covered up a laugh with a cough that wasn’t very convincing. “It was a very difficult line, Logan! How dare you accuse Creativity of messing up!”

   “Did Princey mess up another line?” Virgil asked from his place on the stairs. Patton punched his arm, muttering that it was rude. “I’m just asking a question, Pops. I’m not intending to be mean.”

   “Virgil!” Roman was red in the face with embarrassment and turned back to Logan who had a small smile. Roman’s face softened slightly over his little giggle before remembering he was supposed to be upset. “Logan you sicked Virgil on me!”

   “I do not believe that Virgil is sick. If he is, we should attend to that immediately.”

   “That was an expression, Alan Boring.” Roman corrected. “Do you want me to add a vocab card?”

   “Yes, thank you.” Roman gave a thumbs up and sunk out. Logan walked over to the remaining sides. “Well, my other half is working on that I believe we should cover what to do to keep Thomas healthy during the editing process for the video.”

   Virgil fell down a step causing Patton to fall to the ground completely. Virgil coughed and moved back up while Logan just looked confused. “Your other half?”

   “Yes?” Logan pulled out a vocab card. “There is a theory that the brain is composed of two parts, logic and creativity. Two halves making a whole person. While this is not factual I thought the idiom would work with Roman and myself. Is that not correct?”

   “Logan-” Virgil started but Patton cut him off.

   “That’s really sweet that you’re picking up nicknames like Roman and I! I’m sure that Roman would appreciate it. Too bad he wasn’t here to see or understand your quip.”

   At this point Roman showed up with about three index cards in his hands. He walked over to the others staring at his cards as he moved. “Okay so I made the card but then I got distracted and doodled on these ones but I think they turned out okay. So, I want Patton’s validation on- Wait are you guys talking about the schedule without me? Rude.”

   “My apologies, Roman, we haven't covered anything important yet as I had to explain a joke but I would like your contributions to this conversation as well.” Logan gave a smile and Roman tightened his grip on the cards. “Are you going to hand me the card, Roman?”

   “Oh yeah, here you go.” Roman had a crush and didn’t want to do shit about it.

   The talk took awhile. Especially after Janus and Remus joined which was just chaos disguised as two sides. But that wasn’t the only chaos afoot! A few hours after the meeting and a lot hours past when Thomas should have been asleep, Virgil walked to Patton’s room, knocking on the door softly. Worried that he was too quiet he was about to knock again when the door swung open. Virgil quickly backed up to avoid accidentally punching Thomas’s morality.

   “Uh, hey Patton. Can we talk?” He asked, now fidgeting with his hands.

   Patton gave a concerned look but nodded and moved out of the way to let Virgil in. He closed the door and turned to Virgil with a comforting smile. “You seem nervous, kiddo. Why don’t you hold one of those plushies? That usually helps me.”

   He grabbed a bean filled one that looked like a tiny elephant without a mouth and beads for eyes. Virgil tossed it in between his hands for a few moments while Patton sat down across from him. “I’m just going to get into it before I talk myself out of it. Why didn’t you tell Logan about him using a pet name for Roman?”

   Patton blinked before smiling. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that. Well, that’s an easy one Virgil! I think that this will be good for Logan. Using nicknames is something that an emotional side would do. This might be his way of opening up.”

   “Are… Are you sure? This seems more like… Deceit’s thing.”

   “Well, his name is Janus, Virgil and we don’t see eye to eye but I think that Logan becoming honest with his emotions is a good thing. You don’t agree and you can tell him if you want. I won’t take that from you. Just consider it.”

   Virgil held the elephant up to his face and sighed. He pulled up his legs so he was able to rest his chin on his knees. “I guess it would be embarrassing to know you’ve been using a word with romantic connotations without knowing it…” He made direct eye contact with Patton who was listening to what Virgil had to say. “You think this is going to be good for him?” He nodded and Virgil dropped his legs back to the ground. “Okay, we won’t tell him. I’ll tell him if he asks but if you think this is the right thing to do, I trust you.”

   “Thank you, Virgil.”

-

   Janus, Roman, Logan, and Patton were having a picnic in the imagination. Virgil and Remus decided not to go for separate reasons. Virgil mumbled something unintelligible and hissed at Janus before sinking out quickly while Remus was busy painting over a copy of Vincient Van Gogh’s “Two Rats” with what seemed to be blended pork rinds and blood. Janus had a cup of wine, Patton had a capri-sun, Roman had a lemonade, and Logan just had water. They were having a… civil conversation on whether 100 lions or 100 pokemon would win in a fight.

   “Bitch you know that pokemon would win!” Roman yelled pointing at Janus dramatically, who was nursing his wine. “They have magic powers! Lions are just animals!”

   Janus took a sip and let out a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Pokemon are over glorified rats at most.”

   “Why do they have to fight at all?” Patton asked, pretending not to enjoy Janus and Roman having a conversation that wouldn’t end in tears. He was genuinely upset about the fighting even if it meant two of his friends were finally interacting. “Couldn’t they just be friends?”

   “Do I have to be the one to point out that pokemon don’t exist?”

   Roman stuck out his tongue and picked up his glass again. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

   “Very well, if my other half says so. The lions would win.” Logan reached for an orange slice calmly as Janus raised an eyebrow. Roman was so offended by Logan’s side of the story that he didn’t even notice Patton trying not to choke on his drink.

   “Oh so you’re on the Lying King’s side?”

   “Lions hunt in a group and as I understand pokemon they fight one at a time in a turn based system. For a fight the lions would have a higher advantage.” Logan put the slice in his mouth while Roman narrowed his eyes.

   “What about legendaries?!”

   The fight continued for thirty minutes and Patton decided that the picnic was over. Janus came back to the dark side and hung up his cape in his room. He turned to Remus. “How did the painting go?”

   “Oh just wonderful, the entrails made a smiley face! Look!” Remus held up the canvas too close to Janus’s face. He took a step back and looked it over. If it wasn’t covered in guts it did look rather intriguing and interesting to look at. Janus clapped his hands together.

   “It looks amazing, Remus. Better than the original!” Janus wasn’t lying (for once) because it was just a shitty thing to do when someone is asking for feedback on art.

   “Thanks Jan! How’d the orgy with the light sides and my brother go?”

   Janus shrugged. “Just detestable. The sandwiches lacked but I did find out some information. Were you aware that your brother and Logic are dating?”

   Remus put his hands to his cheeks with an over dramatic gasp. “You’re telling me that little Roman is boning the nerd?! This is the best thing that’s happened since radiation poisoning!”

   “Yeah, I agree. So, want to watch Into the Woods?”

   “Is that even a question dipshit?!”

-

   Roman, Remus, and Logan were going over the storyboards for the next Sanders Sides. Creativities and Logic. It was going well, and Roman was feeling confident that it was going to be fun, even if they definitely weren’t getting it out on time. Logan got up and stretched.

“We’ve been working for two hours and 37 minutes we should take a break. I will bring us snacks. Do you want anything?”

   “Strawberries.”

   “No thanks I brought my own.”

   “Okay, strawberries for my other half and an empty glass for Remus.”

   “Thanks Logan!” Roman hadn’t taken his eyes off the notes, scanning for any discrepancies or something that could be done better while Remus looked over his shoulder taking a bite of deodorant. They stayed in silence for a second before Roman felt Remus staring at him and finally looked up. “What?”

   “So how long have you and Logie-Poo been having sex?”

   “I… what? We’re not- Why would you assume that???” Roman’s face went red and looked incredulously at his brother.

   “Jan-Jan told me that you and Logan have been ‘dating’ two weeks ago. And he just called you ‘his other half’ like a gay person. Are you not…” Remus made a lewd gesture with his hands.

   “No! We’re not… Wait… his other half? Did, did Logan really call me that?”

   “Wow! You’re really oblivious!”

   “Umm, shut up!” Roman’s face turned red as he hid it in his hands, completely flustered and unsure how to react to the situation. Had Logan been hitting on him for two weeks? Had it been longer than that? Remus laughed at him and hit his back. Roman rolled his eyes and sat back up. “What should I even do about this? I’m kind of tempted just to hide this in the back of my head for five years or some sort of grand gesture… Those are romantic, right?”

   “Or you could just make out with him! Well, consensually.” Roman punched him and Remus just kept giggling. “He HAS been calling you a disgustingly cute pet name for a LONG ASS time, dude… Haha ass…” Remus seemed to space out after that so Roman sunk out and appeared again in the living room. And Logan just so happened to be reading a book on the couch. Roman blushed again and cleared his throat.

   “Logan I need to talk to you.”

   He raised an eyebrow, closing his book after putting in a bookmark. Roman’s fist clenched around his sash to calm his nerves. “You wouldn’t NEED to talk to me for any reason so I’m going to assume you mean that you have some information to convey to me?”

   “I… umm, yeah.” Roman took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Why… Why have you been calling me your ‘Other Half’?” He leaned his head back and tried to calm down. He’s had a crush on Logan for a while and there was a sliver of a chance it might be reciprocated. Roman kind of felt like crying.

   “Oh, that?” Logan took a deep breath in and smiled, not that Roman could see. “Well, there’s an incorrect theory about the right and left hemispheres of the brain being logic and creativity. Therefore, you would be my other half.”

   Roman didn’t look at Logan, trying not to feel too disappointed. “That makes sense. Thanks for telling me, Logan. I’ll see you later…” His hand dropped to his side and he got ready to sink out, focusing only on his breathing. He made eye contact with Logan to see genuine confusion on his face. Roman gave a smile and began sinking out-

   “Roman wait!” He stopped. Logan had stood up and ran up to him. “Is that not what you wanted? I’m going to be direct because this is confusing to me but… Roman do you reciprocate romantic feelings for me? Because I really want to date you!”

   He didn’t respond immediately. Roman searched Logan’s face and he seemed to be meaning this. The passion on his face almost made Roman melt. He nodded slightly and decided for the first and only time to take Remus’s advice. Roman leaned towards Logan, grabbing his tie, and kissed him.

-

  The sides were hanging out in the kitchen while they were all working together to make a fam-ILY dinner. Virgil was tapping his foot nervously while vaguely listening to whatever Remus was ranting about. Patton and Janus were putting together the ingredients for a vegetable pie (excluding carrots of course) while Logan was making orange juice. Roman sat on the counter bantering with Janus. He laughed loudly and boldly, wiping a tear from his eye when his snake friend made a particularly bad pun.

   “Roman, my other half, would you please pass over the raspberries?” Logan asked easily. Virgil grumbled nervously, looking over at Patton, who was in a flour-based food fight with Remus. He sighed loudly and walked over Logan, finally cracking.

   He breathed in, ringing his hands. “Logan you’ve been calling Roman a pet name this entire time! The left brain right brain thing isn’t why people say my other half! I’m sorry for not telling you but Patton said to!”

   Roman and Logan looked at each other before looking back at Virgil. Roman quietly handed the raspberries to Logan before giving a soft smile. “Didn’t you know? Logan and I have been together, Storm cloud. It’s been a pet name this entire time.” Janus snickered to himself while putting the pie in but decided not to say anything.

   “You have?” Virgil asked.

   Logan nodded. “Yes, Virgil. Roman and I are indeed in a romantic relationship. Now, we’re going to set the table. Grab the plates?”

   Virgil stayed speechless, frozen in the kitchen until he got hit on his shoulder with flour. Roman got out the forks and walked to the table while Logan continued stirring the orange juice concentrate. After the pie finished, Patton helped serve everyone. Virgil stayed silent, with his forehead leaning on the table in shame. Eventually he started joining the conversation, ignoring his own embarrassment.

   When everyone finished up dinner. Logan volunteered to wash the dishes and Roman was the slowest to put away the food, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen. Roman gave Logan a hug from the back.

   “Your adorable, Logan.”

   “It’s ‘you’re’, Roman.” He corrected calmly, cleaning off a plate.

   “What? How did you- never mind. You ARE adorable, Logan. Even when you’re acting like a smartass.” Logan chuckled and twisted back to face Roman. He wrapped his arms around Roman to make it a full hug. “This is nice. I’m glad we’re dating.”

   “Even when I’m a smart ass, like you said.”

   “Even then.”

Taglist: @bullet-tothefeels @logan-sanders-enthusiast @local-art-cryptid @lizzy-lineart @jasmine-loves @justanonymous @enby-wizard @openthedoorplease @crossiantgay @meowthefluffy @as-the-stars-foretold @sablesides @thedukeofdeodorant-main

[shatterflowerdemon]

I found

Words: 1,517

Reader & UT Sans & UT Paps & Error & Ink & Gaster

Notes:

This came to me as I was cleaning. Please note that I am not very familiar with Error and Ink. I just see pretty designs and write. I haven't abandoned my other reader inserts, but the big wheel in my brain has been landing on 'oneshot' for days. I also post on mobile so I can't chop this.

"Oh fuck. Am I dead? I knew I shouldn't have had that pasta!" Everything that surrounds you is white. "Holy shit? Did I make it to heaven? Unexpected."

"Ahem."

You scream and jerk, managing to scuttle back where you rest on the...floor? It's hard to tell in all this one shade of white. Then you look up. "Oh my fucking god, I am in heaven!" you yell before slapping yourself on the mouth. A skeleton that looks a lot like Ink- from that one AU on Tumblr- looks at you like you've grown a second head.

"Right, okay, back you go," he says, bringing his paintbrush down as if to strike you.

"What the fuck?" you roll out of the way. "Uh, watch where you point that thing!" He sighs and twirls it in this direction.

"Don't make this difficult."

You decide that you would prefer to, not liking the idea of the easy route. Hitting your elbow on the floor hurt. Isn't heaven supposed to be fun and painless? You can feel your heart thumping from adrenaline, too. Regardless of whether or not you're having a fever dream, you are very alive.

Ink attempts to slather or catch you in what looks like his namesake. You scramble and dodge, but the routine is tiring you out quickly. Then, right as you're cornered (in an invisible corner, of fucking course,) a hole opens.

"Dude, you left your- Uh." Error looks between you and Ink, clearly not understanding. "Scarf..."

Ink swings his paintbrush (Broom? Roomie? You forgot) down to rest at his side. "Oh, thanks! I didn't even notice. Just lay it somewhere. Gotta fix this first." You avoid another splatter, feeling like you're on the other end of mickey in that one Wii game with the paintbrush.

"Why's it so empty?" Error asks, glancing around.

"Just did a mass wipe. Decided a fresh canvas was in order."

"Oh. Okay."

You groan, dodging another splatter. "Why the fuck am I even in the doodle sphere?!"

Ink frowns. Error whistles, low and long. "Wow, you accidentally drug a creator here?"

"Shut up." Ink shoots again but misses widely.

Error snickers. "Let me handle this, squid." You watch his hands raise and remember what Error does for a living.

"Fuck no!" You scream, flailing and losing your balance. One minute, you're standing in a white room, and the next, you're nowhere.

It feels like you're falling for eternity. Darkness swims in your vision, making your brain try to fill in the gaps by tricking you with false images. If you scream, you sure can't hear it. Numbness creeps in.

A white oval emerges. Then it stays. Its not a false image? A form takes shape as if your eyes had to adjust. Half circle eyes, two cracks, and a thin smile. The body of spilled ink.

"Gaster." He makes a series of strange noises. Wingdings? "I'm sorry, I can't understand. I- I'm in the void, aren't I?" He nods, and two ghostly hands form before your very eyes. He holds them out to you. "Do you know the way out of here?" Another nod. You take his hands. His figure appears as if it's dissolving, then when you look down, you look the same, like a ghost. The hot iron of fear strikes you. "Wai-"

Your sound is cut out. Once again, for the umpteenth time today, your mind blanks out. An uncomfortable trend.

The first thing you register is cold. It's on your back, arms, head, everywhere. The next is something wet. You groan and shift. Why can't you be left to sleep in peace? WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE. You sit up quickly, disturbing the snow that had been blanketing you before. Something white and fluffy yelps. Your vision clears. Oh! It's a dog.

"Hey there, little guy. Thanks for the wake-up call." The dog barks cutely. You pet it, encouraged by the furious wagging of its tail.

A figure emerges in the distance, but it's hard to see through the snowfall. Whoever they are, they must be tall. Maybe someone on a rescue team? That'd explain the dog. You must have been drugged or passed out somewhere. It couldn't have been a long time since you're still alive in this weather. All your limbs have circulation, and you can't smell rotting flesh.

"DOG! UGH, I KNEW THE RED LEASH WAS SUPERIOR!" An odd sentence for someone on a rescue team, but you let it slide. Any help is better than no help. "OH. A HUMAN." Well, what else would you be? A bear?

"Hello? Do you know where this is? I think I hit my head or something." That would explain the hallucination.

"OH NO! A HURT HUMAN!"

It's like your heart stops and speeds up all at once. Papyrus is tall and a little foreboding at this angle. His scarf flaps in the wind that is currently picking up. He makes quick work of helping you up. The dog stays close by, tail wagging furiously.

"THIS IS NO SORT OF WEATHER FOR A HURT HUMAN! I'LL TAKE YOU HOME AND FEED YOU. MY SPAGHETTI IS WORLD-CLASS."

There's no other option than to agree. If this is a hallucination, you won't fight it. Maybe you're lucid dreaming? Intense focus does nothing to change your situation. Not a lucid dream, then. Papyrus carries you and the dog through the storm, who happily snuggles close to you. At least Papyrus blocks the wind blowing towards the two of you. He chatters the entire way to his house. Instead of the familiar house you were expecting, he brings you to a different one. It's a large log cabin with no porch. It looks like they bought more string lights.

"REST HERE, AND I'LL MAKE YOU SOME WARM FOOD." Papyrus sets you down on a kitchen chair, swiping a quilt and tossing it over you. The dog (presumably annoying dog) settles on your lap as if he owns it. You say nothing. Papyrus returns with a plate of steaming spaghetti and water. "I MUST APOLOGIZE. THE FOOD IS REHEATED SINCE I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU. PLEASE DO NOT MAKE IT A HABIT TO NAP IN SNOW POFFS." The spaghetti is great.

"Thank you, this is great. Uhm, weird question, but where are we?"

"MY HOUSE, OF COURSE!" he replies with a warm smile.

"I think they meant geographic location, paps."

And as if Tumblr hadn't already whooped your ass, here arrives Sans Undertale. Where's a dramatic cue of Megalovania à la trumpet when you need it? Honestly, the very last skeleton you wanted to see. It's like your Sans phase is coming to haunt you. Maybe today is just 'the attack of 2010's fandom.' The switch port could not have possibly done less to prepare you for this.

"Uhm, hi," you say. Sans plops himself down across from you at the kitchen table.

"hey. what's up?"

You make an awkward face. "I have no idea where I'm at or how I got here."

Sans takes it all in stride, pulling up your location on google maps and letting you take it all in. It's a country you've never heard of in your life. You rub your hands over your face and feel like crying. Papyrus, out of the goodness of his heart, offers you their couch for the night.

"hey, paps, why don't you get the human some bed stuff?"

"GASP. YOU'RE RIGHT, BROTHER." Aaaaand Papyrus is gone, taking the stairs two at a time.

"so, I couldn't help but notice you had a lot on your mind. penny for your thoughts?" He holds up said coinage, and it earns him a chuckle from you. Sans laughs himself and sets it on the coffee table.

"I promise I'm not insane, but I'm not from here, and I have no memory of this country. At all." Sans' expression betrays nothing. He closes an eye socket.

"eeh, figured that was the case." He sees your startled expression and shrugs. "I'm good at reading people. what do ya remember?" You close your eyes. The memories roll through, starting with a field of white.

"Black. A lot of it. Something...white?" You gasp, and the name flies between your lips before you can stop it. "Gaster."

Sans jerks, and your eyes fly open. He stares at you like he's seen a ghost. Sweat rolls down his skull. "how-" You can feel the frustration from your day boil over, forming tears that roll down your cheeks in thick globs. You sob into your hands, trying to hide it.

"there there," Sans says, patting you on the back. You finish crying quicker than you expected.

"Sorry. It's been a day." Sans nods and drops his hand. It lays limply at his side. "Guess I gotta fess up now. There's no easy way to say this, but I think you of anyone in this universe would understand." Sans watches with bated breath, apprehension bleeding through his sole eye light.

"I'm not from this universe."

"sheesh. and here I was thinking you were a mage or something. what a relief."

[ais-for-alex]

The Scars of Our Past: Chapter 23

Hope y’all enjoy the chapter 🥰

“Why is it every time I see you, you look even more exhausted than when you left?” Fabian said only half joking while looking him up and down critically. Leo huffed a sigh as he dropped his bag and plopped down next to his friend to start lacing up his skates.

Leo chuckled in response, “I don’t know man, it’s just been… an emotionally charged week.”

“Yeah? Didn’t you just move in with that guy, I thought you would be happy? Is it already not working out?”

“No,” Leo answered quickly, making Fabian glance over at him in surprise, “no, it’s been great, Finn is great. There’s just…” Leo let his voice trail off, not entirely sure what it was he wanted to say. His mind flicked back to the night before, falling asleep in Finn's bed, the man himself wrapped up tight in his arms, the warm velvety timer of his voice lulling him into unconsciousness as he painted pictures with his words. Then this morning when he woke up alone, the warm sheets his only companion.

When the early morning sunrays began streaming through Finns open blinds Leo had slowly blinked his eyes open a bit nervously. He couldn’t help the butterflies fluttering inside him, he was scared to see where he would stand with Finn now that the cover of night had been stripped away by the golden light of morning. However, it seemed his fear was unwarranted as the redhead was nowhere to be found once Leo had finally opened his eyes. Glancing down at the empty space Finn’s body had once occupied, Leo found a slip of paper; one edge was ragged like it had been torn from a notebook and in neat angular handwriting was a message.

Good morning Nutter Butter. I went out for a run to clear my head this morning so I probably won’t see you until later. Have a good day at practice, I’ll see you tonight.

At the bottom he had signed his name and added a little doodle of a fish. Leo smiled softly reading the words over again, he trailed a fingertip over the paper feeling the little indents from where Finn's pen had pressed into the paper. And when he wandered back over to his own room to get ready to head to practice Leo took that paper with him, he so very carefully tucked it into his nightstand wanting to keep it safe.

“There’s just a lot,” he finally finished.

Fabian nodded, seeming to catch some of the meaning behind those words, “Hey, you know what? How about after practice we head to the coffee shop and you can tell me about that lot that you have going on. Maybe an outside opinion can make it easier, or even just talking about it might help.”

Leo felt a little jolt of affection for his friend, after all Fabian had been the first one to welcome him to Gryffindor with open arms and had since remained as a constant support.

“That actually sounds really great.”

“Alright, well it’s a plan,” he said with a crooked grin, “but now we need to get out on the ice before Madam Maxine comes searching for us, cause believe me it would not be fun.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” Leo said with a laugh following Fabian out of the locker room and towards the ice. The two of them parted and began working through their warm ups, Leo melted into the motions stretching and loosening his shoulders, his hips, making sure his muscles were warm and ready to let him fly.

Once he had finished his warm ups Leo set to work on the second of the new jumps Madam Maxine had added to his program. The quads were challenging, that’s an understatement, Leo thought to himself as he pulled his body off the ice for the umpteenth time rubbing at the sore bruise forming on his ass cheek.

“Leo, come.”

Leo glanced up to see that Madame Maxine had glided elegantly onto the ice herself and was beckoning him over to her. Skating closer Leo blinked a bit in shock, he was always thrown when he came across someone taller than himself and his coach positively towered over him on her skates.

“You’re making progress,” she said, accent thick around the words.

“Thank you Madam,” he nodded.

“You still need to work on your expressions though, your face is completely blank when you skate. I can see the gears turning in your mind as you perform.”

“Uh… yeah, I’m still working on that,” Leo said, feeling a self-conscious flush rise in his cheeks. He still had no idea how to make his feelings come across in his performance, after all he had begun figure skating as a way of running and hiding from the feelings inside him, how was he supposed to simply just let them out for everyone to see?

“Have you settled on a composition? You should really be working with your music at this stage.”

“No, um not quite,” he said, brushing a bit of hair out of his face nervously. Leo knew that he should have picked his music a long time ago but for some reason anything that he listened to just didn’t feel right, it didn’t fit.

“Hmm, you have one more week to choose,” she said sternly, “if you have not selected a piece by then, you will not be ready to compete.”

“Alright, I’ll have something by then,” Leo replied, Madam Maxine simply nodded and gestured for him to continue his work before she skated away to speak to Gilderoy. With a little sigh Leo got back to it.

***

Leo groaned at the ache in his bones when he finally left the ice, making his way into the locker room on his blade guards. Sitting down on the bench to unlace his skates Leo snagged a water bottle and his phone from his skate bag only to realiz there were several new notifications waiting for him. He huffed a laugh at the name that popped up when he clicked on the message.

(Mighty Mouse): Video attached

Leo clicked on the video and suddenly Logan’s face was filling up his screen as he held the camera in front of himself.

“So, when I got to the rink for practice today, guess what I found waiting for me?” Logan’s voice fell from the phone's speaker filled with exasperation. He shifted the camera to what looked like his stall in the team’s locker room, pushed to the side was a pile of what looked like children’s hockey equipment in the Lions colors.

“This,” he said, turning the camera back to himself dramatically, “is the aftermath of what one James Potter considers a prank.” Logan reached down and grabbed something out of the pile and held up a ridiculously small jersey that had read Tremblay 10. “He came in here and replaced every single piece of gear in my stall with equipment meant for six year olds,” there was a pained look on Logan’s face as he said that but Leo couldn’t help the cackle that ripped through him at the thought of Logan walking into the locker room to find everything in his spot miniaturized.

“And then!” Logan continued on the video, “when I being a little confused as to where all my crap went, asked what was going on, this bastard had the audacity to look me dead in the eye and say ‘Oh, I thought these would fit you better, with how small you are and everything.’”

Leo completely lost it at that coupled with the crazed look on Logan’s face, he could barely breathe through his howling laughter.

“I swear, if he didn’t need them to play I would have taken his knee caps right then and there,” Logan zoomed the camera a little closer to his face and let his voice fall a bit to a whisper, “but I’ll get him back, believe me I’ll get him back.” Logan’s eyes glowed with mischief, “I’ll keep you posted,” he said with a wink just as the video ended.

Leo was still chuckling as he clicked the next attached video clip which looked like it was sent a little later than the first. Logan was now in what looked like a weight room, he had changed into a Lions logo muscle shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and he had his curls tucked up under a snapback. Leo struggled to pull his focus onto the words coming from Logan’s mouth as his strong arms and shoulders were now in full view.

“So,” Logan started glancing over at the door to make sure no one was coming, “I’ve devised the perfect payback.” Logan grinned deviously at the camera and held up a little container that made Leo gasp when he recognized it, “well, if you don’t know, this here is citric acid and even just a tiny bit will turn something into a tart little surprise.” Logan chuckled and grabbed a bottle of blue Gatorade, “this is James’s, he’s pretty much the only one that drinks the blue. Honestly, he’s a little obsessive about it. Well, let’s see how much he likes it with… let’s say a hefty amount of citric acid in there.”

“Oh no,” Leo couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out as he watched Logan unscrew the cap and dump more citric acid than should ever be consumed into the Gatorade. He gave the bottle a shake and placed it over by someone’s gym bag.

“And now we wait,” he grinned and wagged his eyebrows at the camera suggestively as the clip cut out.

Leo didn’t hesitate for a second before clicking on the last video Logan had sent, from the timestamp only a few minutes ago. This clip was a little different, Logan was no longer holding the camera; he must have propped his phone up against an unused weight plate as Leo could now see the rest of the weight room. There were now several more people there using various machines, Leo’s eyes instantly snapped to where Logan was off to the side doing deadlifts, he had to stop himself from gasping aloud at the sight. Tearing his eyes away from Logan to glance at the others, he spotted none other than Sirius Black standing and chatting with a slightly shorter man with a mop of curly brown hair and thin wire framed glasses. The two were near where Logan had placed the contaminated Gatorade bottle. As they talked the man with glasses, who Leo assumed must be James, reached down and snagged the bottle. Leo cringed in anticipation as he watched James laugh carelessly at something Sirius said then finally bring the bottle up to his lips.

James had taken the biggest gulp imaginable of the sour liquid and Leo watched the exact moment his very soul left his body as it hit tongue. What happened next must have only been milliseconds but Leo still could see as James face first went green, then ghostly pale, his eyes wide and panicked before he sprayed the drink directly into Sirius’s face.

Leo was laughing so hard he wasn’t even making noise anymore just clutching his stomach and shaking from it as he watched James drop to his knees and spit trying to get the sour taste out of his mouth while Sirius was spluttering in disgust. In the background Leo could hear the rest of the guys in the weight room laughing just as hysterically. Suddenly, Logan's face came into frame just as the video ended.

“What was that about?”

Leo glanced up at Fabian who had settled next to him to unlace his own skates. Still trying to suppress his laughter, Leo just shook his head, “nothing, just a friend doing something stupid.”

“Yeah? You know, I think that was the first time I’ve seen you actually laugh like that.”

“That’s not true,” Leo immediately shot back, “I laugh all the time, it’s not my fault you aren’t as funny as you think you are.”

Fabian made a scandalized face and put a hand over his heart, “Ouch, that hurt. I am mildly offended. I am a hoot.”

Leo scoffed at that.

“And besides I’m talking like actually laughing, not that polite little chuckle you do.”

Just then Leo felt his phone buzz in his hand, when he glanced down he nearly choked at the image waiting for him. Logan had taken off his shirt, revealing his entire chest and torso glistening in a sheen of sweat leftover from his workout, his curls were fluffing out from under the edges of his snapback and he had his face scrunched up like he was laughing super hard. The caption ‘I Won’ was written across the image, in the background Leo could just see both James and Sirius glaring daggers at him.

“Is that this ‘friend’ that seems able to make you laugh uncontrollably?” Fabian asked leaning over to sneak a peek at the picture.

“Hmm, yeah,” Leo answered, his eyes still roving over the image of Logan on his screen, a soft smile pulled at his lips, “this is Logan,” he turned the screen a bit showing Fabian.

“Wait, Logan? As in Logan Tremblay? From the Lions?”

Leo simply nodded.

“From that look on your face I take it he has something to do with everything you’ve had going on lately?”

He nodded again.

Fabian chuckled and leaned down to pull off his skates, “Well, hurry up and get changed then you can tell me all about him, and Finn.”

Leo rolled his eyes fondly but slipped his phone back into his bag and began pulling off his own skates. It wasn’t long before the two of them, now clad in their street clothes, had made their way to Polaris Coffee claiming a cozy booth in the corner to chat.

Leo wrapped his hands around his drink, the heat bleeding through the ceramic into his palms. He couldn’t help but think back to the last time he had sat in this coffee shop, a different redhead smiling at him across the table. Fabian was almost uncharacteristically quiet, evidently waiting for Leo to feel comfortable enough to share the things that have been on his mind over the past weeks.

“So…” Leo began not entirely sure where to start.

“So…” Fabian mimicked raising his eyebrows teasingly, making Leo laugh. A bit of tension bled out of him as he took a sip of his coffee, he let the warm rich flavor wash over his tongue and calm his nerves.

“I think I’m falling in love with my roommate… and his best friend,” Leo said, jumping straight into the heart of the matter. And just like that it was like a dam breaking, words tumbled out of Leo’s mouth as he told Fabian about his time with Finn and Logan. He glossed over the parts about his past, but he told him about every subtle look, every gentle brush of fingertips, and sweet embrace. By the time he had run out of words Leo’s heart ached with the knowledge that he was utterly fucked by the intensity of his feelings for these two.

“You know,” Fabian started setting his mug down with a soft clunk on the table, “to me it sounds these people mean a lot to you, I’m honestly not seeing a problem here.”

Leo sighed and flopped back against the booth, his head knocking against the wooden part, “They really do, and well, I guess it’s not so much of a problem as just a bit complicated. I mean I like them, both of them. But Finn and Logan have this… thing between them. Like I get the vibe that they like each other, but then there’s moments with each of them that makes me think just maybe they like me. I just… I don’t know Fab.”

“Have you tried talking to them?” Fabian asked, “Like I know that sounds like the cliché answer but honestly, I think that’s really the only way you’ll be able to know how either of them are actually feeling. About you, and about each other.”

Leo snagged his mug off the table and took a sip before replying, “I know,” he sighed. “I know I need to talk to them. I don’t think it’ll be bad with Finn, from what I’ve seen so far he’s pretty open with his thoughts but Logan, Logan will be a challenge.”

Fabian shot him a sympathetic look at that, “Well, I’m always here for moral support,” he raised his mug in a little salute.

Leo chuckled and rolled his eyes but clinked his own mug against it before taking another sip of his drink.

Read on ao3

Chapter 22 Chapter 24

[trulycertain]

fic writer interview

Tagged by @skogrr Thank you very much! It's a while since I've done one of these, and I've missed them.

Name: Tru/"Oi you" Fandoms (that I write for): Dragon Age, mostly. Still the fandom of my heart. Mass Effect, Deus Ex... uh, accidentally GreedFall? I don't know how or when that happened. Two-shot: Hmm... The actual last two-shot I wrote was Terms & Conditions, a very silly Dorian/Inquisitor modern AU where Gal is the guy Dorian hires to stop his late father's house falling apart. Recently? I suspect that's going to be Driftwood, which can stand on its own as a sort of weird post-canon first-meeting AU, but is trying to tempt me to continue it. (Vasco ends up going looking for Tír Fradí, which has disappeared - and finds it. He also finds De Sardet as a highly avoidant tree god of the island, post-Bad Ending, who transformed against her will. And he ends up falling in love with her anyway.) Weird tree gods! Pining by literal pine! An eventual happy ending! More grumpy commentary by Vasco!

Most popular multi-chapter: Either An Unquenchable Flame or Distraction, probably - both juggernaut pairings, the former close to the game's release and the latter with some fancy forbidden romance, so not so surprising. But surprisingly, Prague, 10:42 PM has done really well, considering it's for a small fandom (Deus Ex) and a rarepair age/rank-difference pairing that I thought would be a one-off experiment? I get it, guys. I like sad repressed stoics too.

Actual worst part of writing: Editing - which can be fun, but that "over and over" stage when you're about to post, especially in a longfic if you fear you've lost the spirit of the thing and the character voices and you can't see the wood for the trees. And when I have to remove a whole scene which Jenga-unbalances the fic, and then I have to redux from the top. Basically, most things to do with pacing. How you choose your titles: I like double-meanings and one word titles. If that fails: quote from a song. If that fails: quote from poetry, but very rarely. Do you outline: Only a little. A bulletpointed list of events or noted-down major lines of dialogue, that's usually it.

Ideas I probably won’t get around to but wouldn’t it be nice: Uh... oh god. I blame so many people for some of these.

Post-Destroy ending where John is attempting to build a shed on Rannoch because that's the kind of thing retired people do, right? and Tali is far better at it than him, and it's just... disgusting fluff.

Actually, just reduxing the early John/Tali stuff with a bit more nuance and a stronger style.

Eva and Kaidan, and their mutually wary first meeting. ("Wow, that's a lot of pomade." "Wow, that's a lot of death-glare.")

AU where Gal and Dorian never met in DAI, and after everything went down, Gal tried to fade into the shadows and leave. He ended up working in Tevinter as an occasional informant/odd-jobs guy the way he was pre-Inquisition. He ends up being a gardener for a bitter, wry magister who seems to hate the entire Magisterium, has recently lost his father to political scheming and murder, and wants to take down the entirety of the remaining Venatori with one staff and maybe his teeth if he has to (hi, Dorian). But first, Dorian's going to drink his own body weight in whiskey and be a recluse for a while and start thinking about time magic again. Gal is trying to keep his head down and should definitely not be falling in love with said magister. Who's someday going to end up at one of the more southerly ports, come across a statue of the great Inquisitor, and go, Oh.

Stuff on Jensen's PT and rebuilding himself post-augs. More of Proprioception, basically.

Mer-AU where Marie De Sardet is still a diplomat attempting to make new connections, just not a human one, and it's a disaster. An awkward disaster. Highlights include her being framed as the beast trying to drown their best captain; her attempting to wobble about on brand-new legs and Vasco's coat while everyone assumes the dear captain has had a few too many; her asking Vasco if his "fascinating markings" glow; them getting into a duel, and her (fondly) getting punted off the side of the ship going "Woo-hoo." OK, I wrote a bit of that, but only a 1k doodle I'll probably never return to.

Non-Naut court AU where Marie gets promised to Bastien D'Arcy, because he's a bit of a layabout but he's also rich, popular at court, and amenable to bribe - [cough] suggestion, and the D'Arcys have prominent trading links with the Alliance. Instead she falls for his far less of a social butterfly, tired, worried-numbers-guy brother Léandre, who's pretty damn uncomfortable around Nauts because he's well aware he nearly got sold to them and he is not the favourite.

Straight-up role-reversal AU (another thing where I've put down 1k that I'll probably never return to), where Marie's Naut name is Paz, and she's a fed-up second-mate who's tired of noble idiots and feels a little strange and conflicted about her mark (and has context for it, because they make frequent crossings to Tír Fradí). Also a little more jaded, without the love of her mother, and not nearly as much of a tryhard as Vasco in canon; she ended up here because she had nowhere else to go and the Nauts were like "Ooh, free kid," and she's well aware. She gets stuck escorting the D'Arcy brothers to Tír Fradí for their new venture and is not looking forward to it. Except one of them is intensely bright and wry and keeps asking questions about the ship and noticing shit he is definitely not meant to notice, and they keep ending up in strange conversations, even if he seems really, really wary and uncomfortable about Nauts.

Some vague stuff about Vasco's thoughts on Jonas and that whole side quest, considering he's also a sea-given and implies sea-given take some shit in the Nauts, and also how damn difficult it must be watching a sea-given's parents endeavour to get their kid back when he knows full well his didn't do that for him.

Actually, just more Vasco POV in general, even though he's damn hard to nail down. I've written much pining for him from Marie's perspective, and I'd like to try things from the opposite. This guy's idea of wooing someone perfectly normally is to panic and then recite Baroque poetry. You know he's sappy as hell in the privacy of his own head, even if he's trying not to be.

Jean and Síora having the "I'm a sad healer who just lost my mother and I'm trying so hard not to crumble under the weight of assisting the leader" mutual talk way too late at night around the campfire and maybe him crying on her shoulder a little, with mutual kindness and the beginnings of attraction, and her finally getting past his jokey-smug facade to understand him.

More stuff about Jean's past in general, and how he wanted to be a doctor before he was dragged away from it by looking after Constantin and being nobility.

Síora and Eseld and the ways they changed over the years; something like an exploration of grief and growing her own will and the ways they very differently view the renaigse. Also maybe more about the en ol menawi magic, if I can worldbuild well enough?

I'd also love to do a GreedFall soulmark AU - it's generally not my kind of trope, I'm not into biological determinism type tropes - just because names and aliases and assumed identities are such a mess in GreedFall and it's a repeated plot point. That said, I feel like it's been done so beautifully in this fandom before that I wouldn't have much to add.

Callouts @ me: So. Many. Commas. So much over-explaining everything. If they get out of the car, your readers do not need a five-page manual of "and then he undid his seatbelt and leaned over to grasp the door handle, and then pulled it, and then stepped a foot out before he almost thought better of it - but no, he was going to get out of this car. The other foot joined the first, and he nearly banged his head on the doorframe."

Best writing traits: People say I have a head for finding small-but-important moments. I'm also told I write likeable protags. People have more than once said my writing makes them feel safe or makes them smile, and I really couldn't ask for more than that. I'll take those.

Spicy tangential opinion: I don't think I have any, really? Oh god, that makes me sound so very boring. Oh! Um. There should be more tree body horror in fandom. And body horror in general. *thumbsup*

No pressure tagging: @artemis-crimson, @eridanidreams,@rainypixel, @aphreal42.

[ayzashl]

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Crack (i think)

Also um, im new to these so sorry for possible gramatical errors or typos (i dont double check bc I literally was bored doing this and just, decided to share it on tumblr lmao)

Disclaimer, I made this out of boredom because I was thinking about exams and stuff and was wondering about how my husbando would react about my situation, having placed on high ranks barely putting efforts towards studying lmao (Not rlly bragging im sorry if it came out as bragging :((, i jusy rlly be curious and hopefully I portrayed it like how I expected for him to react, sorry im new to writing bc I mainly draw🌚👉👈)

***

It was already sunset. The hues of yellow, orange and red envelops the dorms of U.A high school, its gradient tinting the windows of the students occupying the rooms shine bright, displaying its vibrant colors on the inside of each dorms facing the sunset.

You, who were sitting on your knees, switching positions time to time, searching for a particular pose to get comfortable while drawing on your boyfriend's kotatsu in his dorm, door leading into the balcony open, making the cold breeze of late October allow itself to enter the room.

Autumn has already arrived, and that also means midterm exams. It had just finished today. After a almost whole month of preparing for the exams, and the 3 days of taking it, the students of 1-A was relieved and relaxing in their rooms as the days of hardhips were finally over, plus its a Friday so the students were scattered on each others dorms due to the upcoming weekend.

You were taking a sip of your juicebox, almost emptying it now out of frustration for having a hard time drawing a hand. In your opinion, the struggle was equal or actually a lot harder than your midterms. Art frustrates you a lot and your boyfriend wonders why you still do it, yet never really ask you since he can also tell you're really passionate about it than your other hobbies.

He was sitting on his futon, leaning againts the wall as he stare at your back figure, watching you scribble something on your sketchpad and aggressively erasing it afterwards, making the papers crumble into the direction on where you rub it, making you groan in annoyance even more.

As he observes your actions, a thought runs up his mind, asking himself the same particular questions over and over again.

"Why?"

He asks himself. Why were you putting most of your effort into this drawing? Why were you more irritated in this than the midterm exams?

"Just..... why?"

Shoto had noticed you since the start of your so-called-library-dates, although its mostly just you accompanying him to gather resources for the upcoming exams while you just scan your notes or draw, or read a completely different book whose topic is not related to your exams.

Its always been like that everyday, he never really saw you offer a lot of your energy in terms of studying, like most of the students does, as he noticed the library being almost full as soon as October started.

He saw you scan your notes time to time, yes. But full on concentration on studies? no, never seen you. The most of what he saw were you fixate immensely on your math notebook before exams started, and that was it.

The exams ended abruptly on the second day but there was extra curricular on the Hero's Course on the third day before their final grade were posted. And yes, both of you did well. After the announcement, Shoto (and you) were shocked to find out that you were in 6th place and he placed in 5th. You both exchanged congratulations, you mostly squealing out of joy to actually achieve this particular rank.

Shoto on the other hand was, doubting?. Of course he feels happy for you, but at the back of his mind, he was a little agitated. You both got the exam results at the end of the third day and to his surprise (and also yours, but internally) your scores were high, almost having the amount of same mistakes as him, except your math which you devastatingly, almost failed (lmao), which merely affected your overall result since your scores were high anyways.

Your boyfriend wasnt the type to get irritated over these things, heck yeah he feels ecstatic over your accomplishment, signal the kiss he gave you on your forehead plus the soft look he gave you with a slight smile displayed on his face. But there was a faint thought of doubt running through the back of his head, how did you get such results when you were barely even studying? There was no way you would cheat right? He didnt want to accept it, he didnt want to doubt you, but it was the one of the highest possibilities that was mostly that likely happened, as he could think of right now.

He couldnt let go of this thought unless he confronts you about it right now, so he decided to ask you, waiting for a few moments, observing you, waiting for you to calm down a little from your work.

"Y/n...."

"Hmm?" you hum, not turning yout back at him, eyes and most of your attention fixated on the paper.

"How did you manage to get a high rank even though I barely saw you studying?" he finally asks, hoping you wont get offended by it, but this thought had been bothering him a little, and he wouldnt be satisfied until he gets his answer, as the stubborn man that he is.

"Are you doubting me?" you say in an offended tone, although you meant it sarcastically, turning your back, giving Shoto your full attention now as you crawl towards him, pencil dropping in the background as you make your way towards your boyfriend, offering him to lay down as you pat his futon. He complies so, already knowing you wanted to cuddle whenever you do that certain action.

You cuddle next to him, facing him as you give him a smile to reassure him that you werent offended by him back then. "Did you notice that in class, I always, almost bury my head on my notebook, writing on it almost 24/7 whenever lecture starts?" you ask him, as you start to fidget his hair on the sides which you and him really enjoy, making its way up to his bangs, and back and fort.

"You were.... writing?" Shoto asks, raising an eyebrow with the same stoic face who seemed not to show a lot of emotions, a little dumbfounded. "I thought you were doodling". You burst out in laughter from the small misunderstanding of your boyfriend.

"Of course I was. You see, whatever the teacher blurts about that sounds important to me, I write it down because, you know, its usually what appears in exams" you explain to him, closing your eyes time to time as if you were a philosopher, passionately explaining your beliefs, only with an added self-sense of humor. As he was on the other had was, fascinated.

I mean, who knew?

"Also just to clarify things, I do put some extra effort on, some of my studies"

"By some you mean just the science topic you reported you keep rereading everyday"

"......yes"

Shoto lighlty chuckles as he moves your head to his chest, placing an arm on your head, planting a kiss on your forehead, as a sign of affection like he always does. He feels a little guilty, assuming you were cheating but in the end, you were just and always has been the genius that you were. Heck if you actually put a lot of effort in your study, you might actually come out at the top in the class, but he's aware you have other things to focus and worry about as his eyes gaze at the table with a slightly crumpled juice box standing out.

"Were you mad?" you ask, out of curiousity. You had assumed he was maybe upset about the results because he gets a little too competitive or has the sentiment that he has to prove that he only isnt good with his powers, but in academics as well, considering his situation.

He lightly shook his head as he fully encloses you to his grasp, leg placed on your sides, locking you in as he settles his face on your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your lavender shampoo in which he always adores.

You on the other hand, was relieved now that the matter was somehow resolved? Putting those thoughts at the back of your head, your perception of relief was shortly replaced by a wave of worry as you lightly chuckle of uneasiness.

"Shoto?" you tap his sides, body tightly secured onto his. This was the one that made worry. His hands tightly clutching you, but not too much, leg on your sides, locking you in so that you wont get away easily, to him it made him feel happy, knowing that you werent going away and draw for a while. You've had situations like these already and all you ever do is give up and shower him with affection, already knowing he was slightly, probably getting a little touch starved, craving for your attention and affection. But in your situation right now, it was, unpleasant, so to say.

Not after you just finished your juicebox.

-Disclaimer, uh, I made this from

He hums in response, head tilted a little more into your head's direction. He was sure you would have given up already, knowing that he will never let you go.

"I need to pee"

"..."

"Shoto..."

"........"

"Sho"

"All I can say is good luck getting out"

"......"

"Noooooooohohohoooo!!!" you exclaim, with a sarcastic crying in your tone. This was gonna be one hell of a struggle.

.

Im bad at explaining things, hope you did enjoy reading this as much as I did though :))

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: Kagami and Nino plan a surprise party for Adrien's seventeenth birthday. With help from their friends, nothing can go wrong this time. Nino's even invited an extra special guest who's sure to make Adrien's night. (Nino & Kagami & Adrien friendship, with a side of Ladrien)

Word Count:  3101 | Chapter 1/3

Notes: written for @marinetteplztakeabreak through the @mlbforblm charity drive!  The donations go directly to Color of Change, an online organization for racial justice centered on the Black Lives Matter movement.  I highly recommend checking them out and reblogging/donating the mlbforblm posts if you’re able!  I have one fic slot left as of 7/23/2020, and many other talented writers and artists are offering incentives as well!  There’s even a giveaway going on; see the mlbforblm blog for more info!

XXX

“Hmm.”  Kagami’s brow furrowed as she stared at Nino’s Operation: Totally Swank Party binder.  The two of them sat on a bench in the park, where she had agreed to meet him after slipping away from her fencing lesson.  “Bribing the bodyguard is a proven technique.  Get me a list of action figures his collection is missing, and I’ll have them by tomorrow.”

“Way ahead of you, dude.”  Nino tore a piece of notebook paper out.  He’d done his research last night after a long phone call with Adrien.  “Glad I can count on you.”

“Of course.”  She neatly folded the paper and slipped it into her jacket pocket.  “I’ll have them shipped to your apartment.  Do you have a plan to dispose of his babysitter?”

Nino sighed and flipped to the page with a doodle of Nathalie with horns at the top.  It was a much more tentative outline than what he’d prepared to deal with the Gorilla.  Hopefully Kagami would be able to help him with that.

“Nathalie’s whole job is to suck out all the fun in my bro’s life.  We’ll never be able to throw this party with her in the picture.”

He’d tried the past three years.  From Hawkmoth transforming him into the Bubbler, to Nathalie locking him in a closet, to Gabe himself nearly arresting him for trespassing, each had been a total bust.  At this point Adrien probably wasn’t expecting Nino to try.

But Adrien was his best bro.  Nino would never give up on throwing him the most poppin’ party ever.  

Plus, this year, he had a secret weapon.  One that even Kagami didn’t know about.

“You seem quite prepared.”  Kagami squinted at the page.  “You’re sure Max can play his part?  The Agrestes use my mother’s security technology.”

“Positive.  He and Markov can hack anything.”  

Max had already wired into the speaker system last time they threw a party for Adrien.  Of course, on Adrien’s birthday, the mansion would be too obvious a target.  That’s why the plan just required getting his bro out of the house altogether.

“I’ll trust you, then.  What exactly is my role?”

Nino grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder.  “You, my good bro, will be sneaking Adrien away from his fake fencing lessons.  Adrien says you’ve done it a thousand times, and his pops still barely knows who you are.  You’ve got like, some kind of invisibility superpower.”

“I simply have practice.  That’s all.”  She took his pen and began making notes in his binder.  “Nathalie will realize we’re gone approximately forty-five minutes after we leave.  The Gorilla has set patrol routes for finding Adrien when he goes missing, which I can map out for you.”

“If he takes the bribes, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Kagami was already sketching out a map of the city on a clean sheet of paper.  Geez, how did she remember all that?  He doubted he could even draw the path from his apartment to Alya’s.

“I don’t want to take any chances.  We cannot fail Adrien.  Do you have a venue reserved already?”

“Huh?”  Nino scratched under his hat.  Kagami was pretty rad, but it was hard to follow her train of thought sometimes.  “Oh, right! I was thinking the hotel.  Now that Chloé’s not a total jerk—”

“No.  Too obvious.  Nathalie will find us within the hour.”  Kagami frowned and tapped the pen against the back of her hand.  “The ice rink will be our best option.  It’s out of his bodyguard’s patrol zone, and it can accommodate all of Adrien’s friends.  We hid there all the time when we were dating, and no one ever found us.”

“Sure, sure, there’s just one problem.”  He grinned nervously and tapped his fingers together.  “I, uh, don’t know how to skate.”

Kagami tilted her head and.  “Really?  No matter.  His birthday is twenty-one days away.  You have plenty of time to learn.”

Over her shoulder, he watched her write “Teach Nino to ice skate” in her crisp print.

“Uhh… well, I guess that works.”  Hopefully everyone else knew how to skate already, or they could just enjoy the food and cake from the seats surrounding the rink. Nino could technically do that too, but he didn’t want to miss hanging out on the ice with his best bro.

“I’ve seen you parkour with Alya.  You seem like you’ll learn quickly.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”  Nino chuckled.  “Just get ready to watch me starfish out there.”

Her lips pursed thoughtfully.  “If it proves too difficult for you, I can try to find a backup location.  I doubt one exists that will fit everyone you’ve listed, though.”  She flipped back to the guest list, which included all of their classmates from the last few years, Adrien’s whole fencing team, and a few other friends like Luka and XY.  Pretty much everyone Adrien had ever interacted with was on the list.

Except for one special guest, but Nino had left her out on purpose.

“No, no, it’ll be fine!  I’m just joking, dude.”

“Oh.”  Her face pinked a bit.  “How are we going to deliver the invitations without alerting Nathalie or Adrien’s father?

“I’ve started planning that too.”  Nino flipped forward a few pages.  “The most important guests—ones who aren’t gonna snitch on us—will get their invites a week in advance.  The rest will get theirs by text on the day of.  If they can’t come, they can’t come.”  It was the best solution he’d been able to come up with.  He was sure that even if people did have plans, most would drop them for a chance to party with Adrien Agreste.

“Hmm.  It still feels too obvious.  The fencing team in particular may give us up.”  She frowned before scratching a few names off the list.  Well, she was on the team herself; she would know better than anyone who could be trusted.  “You’re right though.  This does seem like the best plan.”

Nino grinned.  One nice thing about Kagami was that when she gave a compliment, he knew it was sincere.  If she agreed with his birthday plan, then it was as close to foolproof as it could be.

“Sweet.  I think that covers everything for now.”

“A very productive planning session.”  Kagami nodded before holding out her fist.

Nino laughed and bumped knuckles with her.  After a year of hanging out with him and his bro, Kagami was finally getting the hang of fist bumps.

“Meet me at the ice rink at eighteen hundred on Saturday.  We’ll begin your lessons then.”

She closed the binder and handed it back to him, then stood and walked away.

“Skating lessons with Kagami, huh…” 

This was either going to be a legit time, or he was going to make a total idiot of himself.

XXX

“Come on, Nino, you’ve got this!”  Alya called encouragement as she and Marinette lapped him again.  He frowned at their backs.  How was it that even Marinette, certified clumsiest girl in Paris, could be a better skater than him?

“Focus, Nino.”  Kagami snapped her fingers.  She stayed near him, slowing her pace even though she could’ve skated rings around him.  “Your girlfriend’s praise will only become reality if you practice proper technique.  Keep your weight centered.”

“Right, right.”  He pushed off from the handrail and tried not to flap his arms.  This time, he made it a solid twenty seconds before he slipped and went skidding across the ice.  His hat slid off in the opposite direction, but Kagami quickly retrieved it.

“Don’t try to go so fast.  Catching up to Marinette and Alya isn’t your goal.”  Kagami’s advice was blunt, but helpful.  Nino didn’t mind her getting to the point.  He knew his skating needed work, and no matter how many times he fell, she didn’t lose patience with him.

It was nice that Alya was so far ahead, honestly.  It meant she didn’t see him look like a total dorkasaurus every time he fell.

I’m doing this for Adrien, he reminded himself each time.  He didn’t need to be a pro skater.  He just needed to be able to stay upright.

“You make it look so easy.”  He frowned as Kagami glided backwards.

“I’ve been skating since I was six.  It makes a relaxing hobby.”

He snorted.  “How is anything about this relaxing?”

“Hmm.  Perhaps you’re thinking too hard.  It makes you hesitate, place your weight incorrectly.  You’re a musician, aren’t you?”

“Huh?  Yeah, you know I’m DJ-ing for the party.” He had no clue why Kagami was asking, though.

“Skating has a rhythm.  Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable timing your strides with music.”

He tapped his chin.  “Y’know… that’s not a half bad idea.”

“Not half bad?  Does that mean only half is good?”

“No, no, the whole idea’s good!  It’s just an expression.”

He slipped his headphones over his ears and picked one of the slowest songs on his playlist.  It was a waltz in ¾ time; hopefully that wouldn’t trip him up.

“Alright, here goes.”

He took a deep breath and pushed off from the wall.

One-two-three, one-two-three.  The music was smooth as the ice under his skates.  Kagami kept pace with him, smiling as he counted the beats under his breath.

Something about it did feel different.  Maybe it was that he stopped overthinking; maybe it was just the magic of music.  Either way, he went the whole six-minute song without falling on his butt.

“Not half bad.”  Kagami smiled.  “...Did I use that right?”

“Heck yeah, dude.”  They fistbumped.

“Way to go Nino!”  Marinette gave him a high five as she and Alya caught up.

“Thanks for teaching my boyfriend, Kagami.  I owe you one.”

“You owe me nothing, Alya.”  Kagami’s cheeks turned red.  “We’re all working together to ensure Adrien’s birthday is perfect.  Teaching Nino is just one step in that plan.”

“Well, I still think it’s really cool of you.  Oh!  And speaking of the party, my mom says she can cater.  I’ve already sworn her to secrecy.”

“Awesome!  What about you, Marinette?” Nino took his headphones off to better hear the conversation, but his legs still knew what to do.  “Are you gonna get Adrien a totally rad birthday cake or what?”

“Yeah, absolutely!”  She nodded.  “I’ll just have to drop it off before the party.”

“You’re still sure you can't come, girl?”  Alya asked her.

“No, sorry.  I promise I would if I could, but I—I’ve already made a commitment.  But I’ll have the cake here on time, I swear!”

“And one of his fifty birthday presents, right?”  She nudged Marinette with her elbow.  Marinette nearly fell, but Nino wasn’t sure if that was from Alya’s bump or her words.

“I—I don’t have those anymore!”  Her shoulders slumped.  “It turns out, planning presents fifty years in advance works a lot better if you can see the future.  They’re all out of style by now.”

Alya laughed at that.  Nino couldn’t help noticing that Kagami had gone silent, though, her gaze locked on the ice in front of them.

“Something wrong, bro?”  He asked her.

She shook her head.  “Adrien’s party won’t be perfect if Marinette isn’t present.  I thought she of all people would understand how much she means to him.”

Marinette gasped.  “I… I’m sorry, Kagami.  Adrien does mean the world to me, and… I promise, I’ll make it up to him.”

Nino was forced to stop as Kagami grabbed the handrail and locked eyes with Marinette.  Some kind of silent conversation seemed to pass between them.  He looked to Alya for help, but she just shrugged.  By now he thought he’d understand the girls, but maybe some things would always be a mystery.

“See that you do.  He deserves that much.”

This wasn’t some kind of love triangle over Adrien again, was it?  Kagami had stayed good friends with all of them after she and Adrien broke up.  Marinette was probably still crazy in love with him, but that was nothing new.

“It’s okay, dudes.  The party’s still going to be perfect.  I’ve got a special surprise planned for our favorite bro.”

He winked at Alya, who grinned back.  She’d been the one to help him pull it off.

“A surprise?”  Marinette clapped her hands together at the same time Kagami raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t factor any surprises into our plans.  Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“It’s not much of a surprise if everyone knows, is it?”  Nino said.  “But you’re right, I should have told you, Kagami.  I just wasn’t sure if it would be awkward for you, knowing who Adrien’s crushing on now and all…”

“It’s not an issue.  Adrien is a wonderful friend.  That is more than enough for me,” Kagami replied.

“Adrien’s... crushing on someone?”  Marinette asked, her eyes wide.  

Oops.  Kagami might have taken it well, but Nino should’ve waited until Marinette was gone.

“What’s the scoop, babe?”  Alya raised her eyebrow, and Nino threw his hands in the air.

“I thought you already knew!  Why do you think we worked so hard to get Ladybug to show up for his party?”

Marinette caught hold of the hand rail before her legs slipped out from under her.

“Adrien has a crush on Ladybug?”

“Oh.  That’s all?”  Kagami asked.  “I’ve known that for months.”

“You have?”  

“Was it supposed to be a secret?  He keeps posters of her in his fencing locker.”

Marinette still looked like she was blue screening.  Alya glared at Nino, and he gave a nervous smile.  What was he supposed to do?  Kagami had a point; the dude wasn’t exactly subtle.  

“Anyway.”  He coughed.  “Our bro likes Ladybug, and she’s coming to his party, so he’s going to have a totally cash money time.”

“Cash money?  You’ve been hanging out with Luka and XY too much, babe.”

Marinette giggled at that.  She got her feet back under her, and they started skating in unison again.  So… she wasn’t that upset?  Whew.

“Oh, speaking of XY, I gotta get him here to help set up the special effects,” Nino said.  “I already got permission from Phillipe.  We’re going all out, courtesy of the actual cash money Kitty Section and XY’s last collab made.”

“How did we end up friends with so many rich people?”  Alya mused under her breath.

“It sounds like the plan is in motion, then,” Kagami said.

“Yeah, it’s going to be perfect!  Adrien will love it.”  Marinette grinned.  “Thank you two for putting all this together.”

“Anything for my best bro.”  Nino shot her finger guns.

“He deserves a party worthy of his friendship,” Kagami added.

And he was going to get one.  This year, of all years, Nino refused to let anything go wrong.

XXX

Three weeks later, on the night of September twenty-first, Nino paced the blue chairs surrounding the perimeter of the ice rink.  His friends wove between the chairs, setting up tables of food and games.  His turntables were already in place at the head of the rink, and XY was hooking them up to the speaker system.

“Nathalie’s schedule?”  Nino asked as he passed Max.

“Hacked and adjusted.”  Max flashed a thumbs up.  

“Great job, dude.”  He clapped him on the shoulder before moving on to Rose and Juleka’s station.

“Presents?”

“Stacked and organized!”  Rose saluted.

“Sweet.  Make sure to leave some extra space, there’ll be more where those came from.”  He continued his path to where Chloé was lounging in a chair and scrolling through her phone.

“Chloé, status report.”

“No trace of Adrikins on Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, or YouTube.”  She flipped her ponytail.  “You should check your tone, though.  I’m not some peon you can just order around.”

“Right.”  He rolled his eyes.  Classic Chloé.  At least she was taking her job seriously, though.  “Thanks for all your hard work.”

“You’re welcome.”  She smirked.

Her job was one of the most important.  If the media caught wind of Adrien’s location, the party would have to split before he even got here.  To prevent that, Max had jammed the wifi and cell service so that only his computer, Chloé’s phone, and Nino’s phone had wifi.  If anyone wanted to post about the party on social media, they’d have to wait until after it was over.

Everything was looking perfect.  There wasn’t much else to do but wait for updates from Kagami.

19:00.  Arrived at the court.  No sign of Adrien.

19:04. Adrien has arrived.  Bodyguard bribed and driving away.

19:05. En route to ice rink.  Adrien was suspicious, but believed my excuse of buying him birthday orange juice.

Nino shook his head with a smile.  How did Kagami type all that without Adrien noticing?  At least everything seemed to going smoothly on her end, too.

He started pacing again.  According to Kagami, a casual stroll from the school to the ice rink took twenty minutes.  It was longer than Nino wanted to wait, but the location had to be far enough away to avoid notice.

His phone beeped again.  He unlocked it to see a selfie of Kagami and Adrien smiling wide, though Adrien was practically unrecognizable in the oversized hoodie and bright blue wig Kagami had borrowed from Juleka.

Alya’s chin rested on Nino’s shoulder.  “Aww, look at them.  All grown up and ready to rebel.”

“Psh, Kagami’s been rebelling for ages.  Adrien could still learn a thing or two from her.”

“Oh look, she sent another one!”  Alya clicked his phone.

In this photo, the two of them were pulling funny faces.  Adrien stuck out his tongue, while Kagami puffed out her cheeks and gave him bunny ears.

Nino laughed and put an arm around his girlfriend.  “We did a great job with them, didn’t we?”

“Absolutely.”  She smiled before zooming in on the background.  “Looks like they’re in front of the parking lot.  They’ll be here any time now.”

Sure enough, Kagami texted, 19:25. Two minutes away.

“Right!”  Nino gave her cheek a quick kiss before running to his turntables.  He snatched up the microphone, and his voice blasted through the speakers.  “Alright, dudes!  Adrien’s about to walk through those doors, so everyone hide!”

Their friends dove behind tables and chairs.  All of them except XY, anyway.

“What’s the point, dude?  He’s gonna see all our sick lights.”  XY pointed to the laser lights next to the turntable.

“That’s why we switch them off,” Luka said, pressing the button.  The rink fell into darkness.

“Ohhhh.”

Nino pulled the two of them under the table with him just before the double doors opened.

[all1e23]

Astrophile [Pt.9]

Chapter:  Stardust 

Summary:  Bucky & Y/n spend the day apart, but find themselves struggling to make it through the day.

Warnings:  Flirting. Fluff. Sweet Tony. Sweet Bucky. Slightly sad Bucky but only for a second! 

A/N: Bucko is a little sad at the start, but I don’t consider it angsty at all. Progress babies. Progress. 😉Send me love because I’m needy, okay?!  Plus all your comments make my day. Beta’d by the beautiful and talented @lokissoul I love you 3000.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

“What’s been going on with you lately?”

Bucky rolls the glass bottle between his palms and shrugs in answer, glancing up at whatever game was on behind the bar to avoid Steve’s probing glare. They have been in this pub for over an hour now, and Bucky has no idea what game he’s been pretending to watch, and he hasn’t heard a word Steve has said. As much as he wants to throw himself wholeheartedly into tonight, he can’t. Bucky hasn’t seen Y/n in over a week, he had to take an extra shift, so he’s had less time with Comet and with everything going today, neither he nor Y/n have had a minute to talk to each other. The last message he got from her was a quick good morning text, but he had a feeling she only sent it because he sent her a message first. 

Today is not Bucky’s day.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bucky answers, distracted and withdrawn.

“We haven’t talked in weeks. I don't even know what’s going with you. Clint knows more about you than I do. You’re always glued to your phone waiting for a certain bookstore owner to call, and if you’re not on the phone with Y/n, you’re talking about her.”

“Nothing to talk about there, Stevie,” He sighs and tips his empty beer towards the bartender, slightly asking for another round. “We are friends. She’s been dating Tony for about a month. I don’t know. Seems to be going good. I guess their first date was amazing, and all that sappy love at first sight shit.”

“Not what I heard,” Steve mumbles against the lip of the bottle in his hands. “I heard she hated the restaurant and talked about you the whole date.”

“It wasn’t the whole date, and I don’t think she hated it.” 

Bucky shifts restlessly in his seat, forcing himself to not look at Steve, using the bartender returning with their beers as his excuse – Steve isn’t buying it.

“Did – did she say that she did?”

Steve snorts at the stutter in the brunette’s voice and the painfully transparent way he’s been dodging Steve’s glances from the moment Y/n was mentioned. He nods his thanks to the bartender and spins around on his stool to face his friend. “Buck, come on. I’ve never seen you like this. Tell me what’s going on with her?”

“There’s nothing to say, man.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs, drumming his fingers against the bottle in his hands. “What if – Don’t give me that pissed off face. Just hear me out. What if the reason Y/n jumps up when you call or smiles every time you’re around, or I don’t know, spends all day talking to you and about you is that maybe, just maybe there’s something there for her, too.”

“Steve–”

“Hear me out, Buck.” Steve cuts him off before Bucky has time to tell him to shut up. “You have to know she is different. You’ve been different since she came along.” 

Bucky hangs his head in defeat or annoyance he’s not even sure, and if he tightens his grip in the slightest there are going to be shards of broken glass all over the place.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Bucky asks, forcing as much annoyance into his voice as he can – he needs to be done with this conversation. 

“Anything else besides her?”

“Alright,” Steve spins back around towards the bar, his leg bouncing nervously, and suddenly he blurts out, “Sam, and I are going to adopt a little boy, I think.”

Bucky chokes on his beer, spilling damn near half the bottle on the bartop making Steve grin. 

“What?!” Bucky Shrieks. “You can’t just drop that shit on me.”

Steve shrugs looking complacent and not sorry in the least.

“When the hell did this happen?” Bucky asks, wiping himself and the bartop off.

“Remember Zoey from the gym?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes but nods anyway. 

“Well, it’s kind of her fault. We ran into her, and she was out with her nephew, and I don’t know honestly. Sam was talking to him and playing and…” Steve smiles and shakes his head. 

“We are finally ready, I think.”

“That’s awesome, Stevie.” Bucky pats Steve on his back, drying his beer-soaked hand on his shirt. “You’re gonna be amazing parents. Ori might get a little jealous when she realizes she has to share her uncles, but I think it’s about damn time, to be honest.”

“She doesn’t have to share. I can make time for both of them. Babies sleep a lot, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “You don’t remember much from when Ori was a baby, do ya?”

“You’re a jerk,” Steve murmurs.

“Uh-huh. You gonna tell me why you didn’t tell me sooner, punk?”

“We started the process a few months ago, but I didn’t want to say anything until we were sure it was happening.”

“You’re sure now?” Bucky asks, not judging, purely out of curiosity.

“Yeah, I know we are,” Steve assured him, firm and sincere. “And, this isn’t because we are missing anything because we absolutely are not missing anything. Sam is all I could ever need, but – I don’t know to explain it. It was like once we met him everything kind of clicked, and it made everything brighter, more meaningful. Now that we know him-- Now that we know Oliver, I don’t think we could go back to a time without him.”

Bucky stares at the amber glass in his hand swallowing the knot in his throat, Steve nudges his elbow grinning widely, and Bucky forces the best smile he can muster.

“You know what I mean?” Steve asks, hope and excitement filling his voice. Bucky wants to be excited for them, and he is, but his mind is somewhere else tonight – somewhere wrapped in story pages and stardust.

“Yeah,” He sighs, “I know what you mean, man.”

-------

Today has been a complete nightmare.

Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s just been a stressful, long day and the nightmare started last night. It began with her neighbors flooding her bedroom the night before and being forced to stay in Manhattan with Tony. She would have asked Natasha or… someone else who lived closer but Tony was dropping her off when they discovered the mess that was her apartment. 

Thankfully Tony was there to save the day.

The incident, however, meant the bookstore was closed for the day while they cleaned up her apartment and Y/n had to plan Ori’s party from Tony’s penthouse, which wasn’t winning any prizes for the coziest spot. It’s not that Tony didn’t have a beautiful place, he did. He was in the middle of Manhattan with the perfect view in every direction. High windows, marble floors and beautiful artwork on the walls. There were some questionable paintings hanging that she wanted to question but didn’t. He had a preposterously fancy couch, and the view off the balcony was breathtaking first thing in the morning. Sure, the view is nice, a chef is on-site, and Tony is always sweet, but it feels wrong.

The couch, with as much money as Tony spent on the thing, it should actually be comfortable! It’s hard, the back has awkward cushions and they doesn’t squish down like Bucky’s does. The arms are skinny and unyielding - there is no way she could curl up on that thing and watch a movie. The entire place is so clean she felt bad laying all party planning books and idea boards out on the table this morning. Tony had insisted it was fine, but it still felt strange to muck up his astonishingly tidy living room.

Tony left her be for most of the day, he had work to do, and she was busy planning a starry birthday bash. He had stopped in to check on her throughout and asked more than once, why don’t you just use that Pinterest website everyone uses? Or at least make all those lists on your phone?

She always replied the same, I prefer handwritten notes, Tony. Then I can doodle in the corners.

Out of everything? The thing she hates most about today? Bucky hasn’t sent her a text all day, except for the quick good morning he sent her which she is almost certain was Ori’s doing. Bucky wouldn’t think to send her a message like that first thing in the morning. It had bothered her quite a bit, and she wasn’t the only one who noticed her sour mood. Tony watches Y/n chewing on the end of her pen from his seat across his living room. She’s been staring at her notepad for nearly an hour now, occasionally glancing over at her phone (that hasn’t gone off since this morning).

Something is cooking in that pretty head of hers, and he is going to figure out what. He drops his iPad to the table and strolls over to the couch. Her focus is solely on what’s laying on her lap, he runs his hand up her bare leg stopping mid-thigh right below her shorts and sits down on the coffee table in front of her – she doesn’t seem to notice he is even there. She’s lost in star-shaped Rice Krispies Treats, recipes for the perfect moon rocks and what appears to be every space themed decoration she can think of.

“You’re doing all this for Bucky’s kid?” Tony inquires, giving a gentle but firm squeeze to her thigh. The mix of his voice and the tickle to her inner thigh seems to grab her attention, but there is still a little something indifferent in her eyes.

“Yes, I’m doing all of this for Ori and for Bucky. Bucky and I are friends,” Y/n explained, credulously and matter-of-factly.

Tony can’t help but smile at her. He leans forward and kisses her forehead, whispering against her skin, "You’re adorably naive sometimes.”

The edges of her mouth curl down into a deep frown, and her brows draw together. “What does that mean?”

“Listen,” Tony begged, ignoring her question. They can talk about that after Ori’s party. “I’ve got an idea for baby Barnes’s birthday if you’re okay letting me help?”

“Depends on what it is?”

“You said her favorite place is your bookstore, right?”

“Yeah, I mean that’s what she said, but I can’t have the party there. I would have to move all the shelves, my apartment is still a mess, and I have no room to cook anything there. I think Bucky just wants to cook burgers or something and,” She hesitates, nervously drumming the end of her pen against her knee until Tony snatches it out of her hand.

“And… what? You’re killing me with the suspense.”

“I’m not family,” she whispers, so soft that Tony has to strain to hear it. “I think they were going to do it at Steve’s because they have the deck out back and well, he’s her uncle. I’m just some girl that owns a bookstore.”

This is something Tony can’t let go. Tony grabs the notepad from her hands, tossing it and the pen onto the couch and pulls Y/n forward by her hands. 

“Your apartment will be fine. I’ll make sure it gets done, and the shelves are not a big deal. Her dad and uncles have muscles coming out of their ass–” They both wince at his choice of words. “– Sorry. That was vivid even for me. Point is we can move them, and I can pay for a caterer. Don’t even try to fight me on that one. It can be my present, and as for the rest, you are far more than just a girl that owns a bookstore to that little girl and particularly to Bucky.”

A wide grin slowly stretches across Y/n’s face, and Tony does not like the smugness of that smirk. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t like one bit. 

“You’re pretty sweet when you want to be,” She says, still beaming.

Tony reaches forward and covers her mouth with his hand whispering dramatically as he does, “Shh, don’t say that so loud. There are spies everywhere!” 

A muffled giggle slips through his fingers, and she places a soft kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Thank you,” She manages once he drops his hand. 

“I like the idea as long as Bucky is okay with it.” Her eyes wander back to her phone on the table next to Tony’s thigh, and it doesn’t have to be said – he can see it written all over her face.

“You wanna call him right now, don’t you?” 

She gives Tony an apologetic smile with a small shrug. It’s supposed to be their date night, but she is not going to relax till she talks to Bucky and gets this party sorted – they both know it. Tony rolls his eyes affectionately and waves his hand towards the balcony as he stands.

“I have to change before we go out anyway. Go, make your call.”

Y/n slips out onto the terrace as Tony disappears into his bedroom. There is a moment of hesitation before she makes herself to dial Bucky’s number. They hadn’t talked all day, Y/n thought it was because he was busy, but maybe he didn’t want to talk? They aren’t family, they are brarey friends and she could be bothering him-- 

“Hey, Beck,” Bucky’s soft greeting makes her skin prickle and her worry fades away when instantly. 

“Hi,” Y/n sighs, content and somehow lighter from two simple words.

“Hi,” Bucky breathes into the phone with a huge grin on his face, his nerves finally settling for the first time all day. He’s not sure how she does that when they are a good twenty miles apart.

“So,” she mutters quietly.

“So,” Bucky repeats with a soft chuckle.

Y/n knows why she called. They need to talk about Ori’s party but now that she has him on the line, for the first time in what feels like forever she doesn’t want to rush him off the phone. She admires the soft orange glow and the pink clouds peeking out over the Manhattan skyline, and she’s never wanted to be back in Brooklyn more than she does right now.

“I’m not sure what all the fuss is about the sunset from Manhattan,” She scoffs. “Personally, I like a good old Brooklyn sunset.”

Dammit. Why does she have to be so perfect? Bucky thinks as he sneaks through Steve’s living room and out the front door– no witnesses needed for this conversation. He spins around to find the sunset peeking through all the buildings. It’s harder to do the deeper you got into Brooklyn, but he was able to spot the peach colored sky. He can’t explain why, he just needs to know they are both looking at the same thing.

“You called me to talk about sunsets, Beck?”

Y/n chuckles and shakes her head as if he can see her but quickly remembers he can’t and answers him with a nervous squeak, “Um, no? I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Bucky echoes her words once again.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you are about to have dinner with Ori. I just…” I haven’t talked to you all day, and I hate it. She closes her eyes and turns around the block out the nightfall that’s overtaking the orange and slowly fading to plum. “I actually called about Ori’s party. If it’s okay with you, I would like to have it at my shop. I can handle everything. If you just bring the birthday girl.”

“That sounds good,” Bucky whispers, clearing his throat as he turns back around and drops his forehead against the front door – shutting out the dark falling around him, the one that seems to take over when she’s not with him.

“Ori would really love that. Tell me what to buy or set up. I can come early and help move things around.”

“Why are you whispering?” She asks in a hushed tone making him chuckle. “I’m hiding on the front porch at Steve’s. Why are you whispering?” He counters, grinning, foolish, and unabashed.

Y/n giggle softly, and the line goes inexplicably quiet. Bucky slowly lifts his head from the door and turns back around to find the sun was mostly set, he was about to apologize for teasing her when her soft voice drifts through the line, “Let’s not go all day without talking again, okay? I really hated it.”

Sweetest words he’s heard all day. 

“God, me too,” He sighs. “Never again. I pinky promise.”

“Buck, you can’t pinky promise. We can’t lock pinkies,” She scolds with total seriousness because that’s just the kind of woman she is. “I’m in Manhattan, and you’re in Brooklyn. It only counts if you hook your pinkies together.”

“Who says we gotta lock, pinkies?” Bucky scoffs, amusement and sincerity filling his words. He may find her entirely adorable, but Bucky needs her to know he means every word – without a doubt. 

“Maybe that will be our thing. Pinky promise without the pinky.”

Y/n finds herself unable to stop the ear to ear grin that forms. She drops her head back and looks up to the sky in hopes of catching a glimpse of the stars.

“No more days like today, Y/n. Pinky promise.”

There’s her glimpse. Perfect timing. 

“Pinky promise, Buck.”

Previous // Next

[jeminy3]

Blind Roy - Office Woes

This was meant to be part of a series of more Blind Roy drabbles, titled and focused on things like being back in the office, conversations with each individual team member, talking grimly of the future with Grumman, etc. But all my writing juice went into other stories (like the Elicia story, The Things We Carry), so they never really came together. This is just leftovers. 

Features: Blind Character PoV, insecurities, workarounds for disabilities, Team Mustang being supportive like a good team should.

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Disclaimers:

- Realistically, Roy would be forced to retire from the military because of his blindness, but I didn't double-check that until I'd written out most of this because I'm PRETTY sure that in Brotherhood, he says something about continuing to pursue his goals despite his blindness. But whatever, it's an AU.

- I know Braille wouldn't exist in the FMA verse, or would go under a different name, but whatever.

Also, here’s another Roy doodle.

--

Roy's first day back in the office was difficult - much more difficult than he imagined.

He spent the majority of the day shuffling slowly around rooms with arms outstretched, running into walls, knocking things over, feeling his way around doorways and chairs and tables, much like - well, a blind man. He would've laughed at himself, if not for the quiet shame and anger that gripped him.

And a strange sort of denial did, too. Years from now, he'd look back on these days and realize that his biggest mistake was thinking he could somehow function exactly like he used to and therefore not become a burden to those around him. Because the worst parts of it all were his constant, stubborn refusals to accept help, even from his own squadron.

It takes him almost two weeks before he finally relents to using a cane at everyone's suggestion, after growing incredibly tired of crushing his nose, bumping his head, stubbing his fingers and toes, and wounding his pride in front of other officials while navigating their offices.

The sounds of people snickering softly behind his back hurt more than all his bumps and bruises combined. He expects them to multiply upon starting use of his cane, but to his surprise, they don't, and eventually stop altogether.

He gets a reason why when he offhandedly comments on it one day, as he's getting ready to head home for the evening.

"Another day done, I suppose. Almost surprised I'm still in one piece."

He hears a questioning sound from Riza. "How do you mean, sir?"

"Well, besides surviving the day without hurting myself for once-" He gestures with his cane. " -I haven't heard any, shall we say, disrespectful sounds from anyone in my vicinity. Maybe they're finally wise enough to hold their snickering for when I leave the room."

Riza makes an odd sound, as if holding back a laugh herself. "Well I wouldn't say that, sir..."

"...Hm?"

There's a shifting of fabric from Riza's uniform, as if she were lifting an arm to adjust her collar.

"Just between us, sir, if it eases you... myself and the others may be responsible for that. I've done my best to shut down any potential disrespect towards you during our meetings, and Fuery's encouraged us to take problem folk aside and give them, as he says, 'a good talking-to' about your condition."

There's a lightening in her voice, as if she's smiling. "And it looks like our efforts have paid off."

Roy was silent for a good few seconds, gaping a bit. He was... shocked, a little, that his squadron would go so out of their way for his comfort, even his pride.

Eventually, he'd learn to stop being so surprised.

--

Progress on paperwork nearly came to a complete halt during his first few days.

Unable to read, Roy had asked Riza to read the forms aloud to him before he signed them, but that method quickly proved to be inefficient. Not only was listening to Riza's droning voice a battle to stay conscious by the end of the day, but the strain on her soon proved to be too much.

"-and so, as per the order of Colonel Roy Musta- Agh. Ack." Riza chokes, then breaks down into a coughing fit.

"...Lieutenant? Are you alright?" Roy asks, snapping out of his boredom.

It takes a few seconds before she's recovered enough to respond, and when she does, her voice is still noticeably rough. "I'm- Urgh- I'm sorry sir, but I don't think this will work. I'm losing my voice," she says hoarsely.

Roy does his best to stave off a surge of panic. These forms need to get done. "Er- Well... Then uh, bring Falman in to take over until you recover, Lieutenant."

He hears her sigh softly. "Apologies again, but I have to disagree, sir. Falman has his own duties and can't spend all his time reading to you. Same for the others."

"...Besides, he's not even here today," she adds. "He's out on reconnaissance, remember?"

Roy sighs deeply, sinking into his desk and rubbing his temples. "...I'd forgotten. Sorry, Lieutenant. It's just- the meetings, the forms- it all blends together sometimes. You know."

Riza makes a "hm" noise in agreement, but nothing else. An awkward silence falls, and Roy can imagine her staring him down accusingly, since she'd already suggested a better alternative earlier today, but Roy had refused it, as usual.

At this point he was just delaying the inevitable. He lets out a long, loud groan of defeat. "Fine, fine. I'll stop putting it off. I'll try to learn that 'brell' language you told me about."

"It's called Braille, sir."

He waves a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes... And we'll have to reprint everything with that special paper... Ugh, the print department's going to moan at me, I just know it."

"I should hope not. Not when their Colonel has a disability that needs accommodation."

Disability. Roy flinches a little at the word, associating it with years of well-meaning but nonetheless other-ing societal norms. Nursing homes, therapy wards, parking spaces and public seating set aside and marked with garishly-colored signs.

"Er- Can you... not call it that, Lieutenant? It's not disabling, just ah- challenging, that's all," he says.

He hears her sigh again, and the sound of her uniform shifting, then feels her hand on his shoulder. Her voice is soft, perhaps softer than intended from her hoarseness, but there's something undeniably sincere in it.

"Roy, please... it's alright."

Her voice is closer to him now, and Roy can imagine her leaning down with a small, gentle smile near his face, offering tender support against his bull-headed stubbornness that masked a deep, all-consuming shame inside him. It eases him, a little.

Roy breathes out slowly, relieving a tension in his shoulders he hadn't noticed was there.

"I... I'll try, Riza. Thank you."

--

Luckily for everyone, the Braille system works out better than expected.

Frustrated with the amount of time it took to reprint everything traditionally, Roy, in his usual manner, came up with the brilliant idea of using Alchemy to convert them instead.

It takes some time and convincing to the higher-ups, but eventually, with the help of Major Armstrong and a few other alchemists, Roy creates a new and fairly simple system. All one has to do is place a stack of documents, along with a small amount of extra wood chips, in an array that instantly thickens the paper and raises the correct pattern of bumps, both for letters and lines to write into.

Then it's arranged for a specialized alchemist to be tasked with learning braille, translating documents, then recreating them using this process.

It turns out to be quite a bit faster and more efficient than traditional printing methods, since mistakes happened rarely compared to the sometimes-unwieldy machines, and in turn, this significantly cuts down on costs from maintenance and wasted paper.

East Headquarters’ Treasurer and Senior Accountants commend him for the idea and its execution, and begin sharing the idea with the officials at every other military office. Soon there’s talk about installing a similar system in every printing facility throughout Central City, even the country beyond, potentially opening up a significant breakthrough in readership for the similarly-disabled.

Roy was just happy he could finally fill out his paperwork by himself with little issue, but he’s certainly not above claiming it as another of his many impressive achievements.

As for writing out new documents himself, the solution was more simple. He has Riza bring in a typewriter to type his words as he says them aloud to her, and uses a ruler to keep his signatures straight on the plain, non-textured paper. Then the proofs are brought to the printers to reproduce as proper forms.

--

It took time - a long time - but eventually, Roy forms a mental map of not only his office, but of his personal apartment, the surrounding hallways and rooms of the apartment building, the whole interior of East Headquarters, and everywhere else he frequented on his daily routine, largely helped by his memory of what they looked like before he lost his sight - and by his squadron, of course.

Eventually, he also learns to stave off the irrational fear that things could be switched around without him knowing, that doorways and furniture would change position for no reason, and he didn't have to feel and re-feel everything every other day just to make sure. Slowly, he learns to trust himself and his connection to this dark world that was familiar, but at the same time strange and terrifying.

And of course, his squadron would never be so discourteous as to move something in his office without telling him.

[tizzymcwizzy]

A Stranger’s New Year’s Resolution - Chap 1

Reposting this cause I messed up the formatting last time!

Here’s to the first fic that I’ve ever written and posted! AUuuGgh okay okay.

Ao3 Link

Chap 2 

This takes place in an AU were there are no powers, and Adrien never goes to public school. So they don’t know each other. Oh, and aged up characters.

There is some alcohol use and talk of alcohol use on this, just as a warning

Summary:

Marinette sat alone at a table for two, sketchbook open and staring out the window at the fireworks that splashed color over snow-covered rooftops. She wasn’t waiting for anyone and no one was waiting for her really. She just sat quietly among the incessant chatter of the tipsy people around her. It was around 10 at night so there was still 2 hours until New Years officially began, but that never seemed to stop people from getting far too drunk far too early.

She flipped the pencil around in her hand and gazed back at her sketchbook. She was doodling some cocktail dresses until she found a design she wanted to stick with and carry onto the next page. 

People-watching is amazing inspiration, she’d found. Especially on nights of celebration when people wore their best and drank lazily, not caring about how they looked. 

Marinette scanned her eyes over the crowd once more and admired a red dress with tassels on the ends. Tassels, hmm. She hadn’t thought about that. She made a quick doodle on her page and put the pencil up to her lips, scrunching her nose. 

“Would you like another drink, mademoiselle?” A waiter asked, peering down at her.

Marinette startled and flipped her pencil. “Oh, no thank you, I’m just fine.” She waved them off with a smile. 

The waiter nodded and smiled as they walked away. Marinette had never been really fond of drinking. Sure alcohol could taste good but hangovers were never fun. Especially alone. She thought, sadly.

She swiped her finger around the edge of her half-empty glass, watching the reflection of the fireworks flash and sparkle. She watched it for a second before gasping. That’s a perfect idea! She swiped up her pencil and made a small sketch. It was perfect. She flipped her page and sketched the dress out with quick lines. 

A hand appeared in her peripheral. Hesitantly tapping the table in front of her. “Excuse me,” he said. His voice was shy, but just loud enough to be heard over the music. Marinette glanced at the hand before looking up. A man stood at the edge of the small table, smiling warmly. “I’m sorry, is anyone sitting here?” He asked. “There’s no other seats open.” He turned around to gesture at the crowd of people that had slowly grown since the evening’s beginning.

“Oh, uh,” she found it hard not to gawk at him. His hair was golden blond, combed back near perfectly and his eyes were stark green, shining brightly with reflections of fireworks dancing in their centers. “Sure, there’s no one sitting there.” She pulled her sketchbook closer to her and gathered her pencils to her side of the table.

“Thanks a ton,” he smiled again. He is really pretty, wow. She nodded and turned back to her sketchbook. He sat down, facing the rest of the bar, away from her. They sat in silence for a bit as he scrolled through his phone and she sketched. Marinette didn’t find it exactly easy to ignore him, but he didn’t seem to be uncomfortable with her presence. As she finished the sketch she found herself wondering what he was doing here alone. Well, she was alone too, but he was far too good-looking to be alone, wasn’t he? She pondered this and glanced up at him. Then jumped internally as she found him watching her. His eyes were trained on the paper and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He noticed her hand pause and he glanced up at her. “Oh, sorry.” He laughed awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” she managed to squeak out in a voice that was close to normal. “You’re fine,” she waved her hand.

He looked back down at the sketch. “That’s really good, you’ve got a lot of talent.” He gestured at the page.

“Oh, thank you.” She gave him a small smile. When most people saw her art they said the same few things like a broken record, she never received just a kind compliment. They sat in comfortable silence, both occupied with their tasks; his being scrolling through his phone and watching the crowd. Her thoughts were drawn back to the fact that he was alone. Was he waiting for someone?

“Adrien! Salut, It’s so grand to see you, would you care for anything?” The waiter appeared at the table again. He smiled warmly and shook Adrien’s hand.

Adrien smiled back just as brightly. “It’s good to see you too, Jackson. You can just get me my usual.” He leaned back in his chair and placed his elbow on the table.

“Would you like anything else, mademoiselle?” Jackson turned to her, pen at the ready.

"No thank you, I’m fine,” she chuckled softly.

“Tsk tsk,” the waiter shook his head and scribbled something down. “You shouldn’t have left her waiting for so long, Adrien. She’s only ordered one drink all night, you’ve soured the poor girl’s appetite.”

The both of them froze. “Uh, um, no, no i-it’s not-” she glanced frantically between them. “We’re not-” she stumbled over her words. Jackson raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like that, Jack.” Adrien laughed good-naturedly and shook his head. “There were just no other seats open,” he gestured to the packed bar.

“Oh, well, you could’ve just asked, Adrien. I’m sure we could get you a place to sit,” he turned to walk back to the front bar.

“No, no it’s fine Jack.” Adrien shot his hands up. “Really you don’t have to. I was just looking for a place to rest my feet." 

"Well, if you insist.” He nodded. “Sorry for insinuating that, mademoiselle.” He glanced at Marinette, who looked down at her sketchbook, ears red with embarrassment.

“It’s alright.” She smiled weakly. He left for the bar. She fidgeted with her pencil and tried to focus on her drawing.

“Sorry about that,” Adrien laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Jack can get pretty carried away.”

“It’s alright,” she repeated. He gazed out at the rest of the bar. His eyes were really pretty. “Do you know him?” She asked and took a sip of her half-empty drink.

“Huh?” He turned back to her. “Oh, yeah. I know most of the waiters here. This place is one of my favorites.” He laughed softly. “You come here often?" 

She nearly choked. Thank God she’d swallowed her sip. Had he meant to make that sound like a pick-up line? Or had he just asked that normally without any connotations? "No, this is my first time here.” She tapped the side of her glass lightly.

“Really?” He smiled again. Man, he really was pretty. “Want some drink recommendations?” He turned in his seat so he faced her head on and leaned forward.

“Sure,” she tried to calm her pulse. Get a hold of yourself, girl! Marinette imagined Alya slapping her shoulder and pushing her forward. He’s just a hot guy. She smirked and raised a brow. A strange confidence filled her. “Hit me,”

“Well, you’ve got to try the Devilled Tears To Go with a shot of lime, that’s my favorite.” He waved his hand around as he spoke, strangely enthusiastic. “But the Avant-garde Fruit Punch is another good choice. It depends on how much kick you’d want, though.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And how much ‘kick’ is that?” Is that a normal response? Is this how people talk?

He shrugged. “Depends.” He looked up for a moment and turned back to her with a smirk on his face. “How we kicken’ today, little lady?”

She scoffed and chuckled. Her face started to heat up again. “Was that a pun?” She glanced up at him through her lashes. 

“Maybe,” he leaned back in his chair, smirk still light on his lips.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I’d say I’m kicken’ for something light.” She picked up her pencil and twirled it in her hands again.

“Then you’d probably want to go with the punch.” He nodded.

“Okay, I’ll roll with that.” she glanced over to Jackson who was coming back with a drink. Adrien’s eyes lit up, he caught her subtle pun.

“A Devilled Tears for you,” he placed the purple drink in front of Adrien lavishly. But Adrien didn’t even glance at it, he fixed his eyes on her, a wild gleam sparkling along with the fireworks. “Can I help you with anything else?" 

"I’ll get an Avant-garde Fruit Punch, please.” She rested her chin on her wrists and smiled up at Jackson. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Coming right up, mademoiselle.” He nodded and scribbled it down. As he walked back to the bar he gave Adrien a gentle pat on the back.

“That was a good one.” He chuckled. “Roll with the punches,” he whispered. He pulled his gaze away from her and sat back up in his chair.

“Thank you,” she smiled and picked up her pencil again. He’s a fan of puns? He nodded and picked up his drink.

They sat in comfortable silence once again, sneaking glances at each other as she sketched. The dress was coming along nicely. She peeked up at him and watched him watch her in stolen glances. Why was he so intrigued? Finally, she placed her pencil down and flipped the sketchbook to face him. “What do you think?”

He put his drink down and turned his full attention to the page. “Wow, it’s amazing,” his eyes traced the page for a while. “Are you a designer?” He looked up at her.

“Not independently. I work as an apprentice.” She fidgeted with a pen. “But I hope to be someday.” She took a quick glance up at him before turning to the window. He was still looking at her.

“I feel like you could definitely become a professional. I’ve seen plenty of designers, but this is really something special.” He spoke softly. She turned back to him, there was something soft in his eyes.

“Thank you.” She whispered. He nodded and smiled gently. He was so pretty. Oh, man. And his smile was so kind.

“How long have you been designing?" 

That was a difficult question. She posted and thought for a moment. "Well, I sort of drew all the time, but I started taking it more seriously when I was in sixth grade I think,” she brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Did you always want to be a designer?” He tapped his finger on the table between them.

“Yeah,” she laughed through a sigh, “I was one of those weird kids that always knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. No doubt in my mind I guess.” Marinette scratched a spot on the table. “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“I, I work as a model, for my father’s company.” He massaged the back of his neck. Wait, really? Yeah, sure he was good looking but being a model… He grinned at her lopsidedly. Oh yeah, she could definitely see it.

"You’re a model?” She twisted her brows.

He looked at her and laughed. “What, you don’t think I have the dashing good looks?” He joked. Then he squinted at her, still smiling. “You seriously don’t recognize me?” His voice was softer.

“Am I supposed too?” She scoffed.

“Do you know my last name?” It was his turn to quirk his brow. Playfulness laced his voice.

“No, you haven’t told me?” She clearly wasn’t getting it.

He chuckled softly and spun the drink in his hand. “I guess it’s only fair since I know your last name.” He stuck out his hand again. She took it instinctively, still confused. “My name’s Adrien Agreste, nice to meet you." 

She blinked. "Wait,” she froze. “Adrien… Agreste?” She sputtered. “Like, son of the ruler of the fashion empire and my favorite designer, Adrien Agreste?” Her eyes were as wide as the moon.

He burst out laughing, still holding her limp hand over the table. She joined him after a moment. They laughed like a pair of idiots until Jackson came with her drink. He squinted at both of them with a small smile and placed it down without a word, before scurrying back to the bar. 

“Yeah,” he said a little out of breath. “That’s the one." 

"Wow,” she rested her head on her hand. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you.” She picked up her second drink. It was a pretty shade of orange-pink. “I’d like to think I’m bright enough to recognize a face I see on billboards every day.”

He chuckled. “Is my father really your favorite designer?” He leaned forward with his elbows braced in the table.

“Duh, I mean have you seen his winter line? Of course you have, you wore half of it,” she took a sip of the punch. “Wow, that’s good.” She put the drink down.

“I know, right,” he said off-hand.

“Like, his control of color and shape is stunning, do you remember that one blue-teal sweater? It had this little white stripe near the bottom. Anyway, oh my GOD the way it just rested on the model was amazing!” She leaned in with her eyes lighting up. “It was this perfect blend between baggy and form-fitting, I just,” she made a chef kiss and he chuckled. “And I mean off the bat the model had a great body,” she raised her brows.

“Of course,” he nodded with a soft gleam in his eye.

“But it just enhanced it in the most perfect way, and I mean,” she gazed out the window and then back to him. “It’s just a sweater, but I can’t help fangirl over it.” She giggled. Adrien smirked at her. His cheeks were a little pink. Probably from the alcohol. “What, is it weird to hear me gushing about your dad?” She put her head in her hands. “Oh god, that must’ve sounded super weird, sorry.” Her face felt hot.

“No, no, you’re fine,” he laughed. “It’s just, do you remember who wore that sweater?” He peered at her through her fingers.

She sucked in a breath. Oh god. Oh god. OH GOD. Her face must’ve been hilarious because he burst out laughing again. She scowled and slammed her hands on the table. That made him laugh harder. “Stop laughing at me!” She growled, trying to stop her own smile from forming.

He covered his mouth and doubled over. Failing miserably to stifle his laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” he breathed between giggles. She couldn’t help smiling at him. He had a cute laugh. Dammit.

“It’s just flattering,” he looked down at his drink and sighed. His cheeks were definitely pink. Hers heated up in turn. “So,” he played with a strand of his hair. “How is the drink?” He nodded to the glass in front of her.

“Oh,” she picked it up and took another sip. “It’s good, it’s good.” She nodded and closed her eyes focusing on the taste. “It’s definitely got ‘kick,’“ she pursed her lips, then smiled as he laughed.

"Wanna try mine?” He picked up his drink and handed it to her. Is he serious? Oh goodness her face felt hot.

“You sure?” She tried her hardest to smile naturally.

“Yeah, I wanna hear your opinion of the both of them.” He tapped the glass.

She picked up the drink and nearly brushed his fingertips. Chill OUT MARINETTE. She took a sip. And then coughed. “Oh, wow,” she cringed. “That’s definitely got something.” It was super strong, definitely a lot of lime as well.

He laughed, “The after taste is worth it though." 

She squinted and let the taste sit in her mouth. She hummed and wiggled her tongue around. As the lime and strength of alcohol died down a subtle taste of fruit floundered to the front. "Oh,” her eyes widened. He stared back at her, full of anticipation, a slight smile on his face. “Oh!” She smiled. “Passion fruit?” She smirked and picked up the glass and took another sip. He grinned.

“Yup, most people miss that though,” he tapped his chin.

“Must be the baker in me,” she chuckled and switched their drinks back around.

“Baker? I thought you were a designer?” He cocked his head at her.

“My parents run a bakery, I can bake but I’m not all that passionate about it.” She ran her finger over her glass.

“Multiskilled I see,” he raised his brow dramatically and took a sip of his drink. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Hmmm, well I’d probably say some kind of macaroon. The strawberry ones are good, oh but those kiwi ones my mom made were great,” she pondered.

“So, kiwi macaroons are your favorite?" 

"If I had to pick, yes.” She nodded. “What’s your favorite dessert?" 

"Guess,” he smirked.

She pursed her lips. “What would a model have as a favorite dessert?” She tapped her chin. Marinette eyed him carefully. He wasn’t giving her much. He was thin and fit, as models usually were, but he seemed to be a food enthusiast of sorts. Or a drink enthusiast. A drink enthusiast… oh! The passion fruit in his favorite drink? “Let’s see, do you have a passion for passion fruit?”

Adrien’s eyes lit up again as he chuckled. “Right on the nose, Marinette.” He tapped his nose, to emphasize his point.

“How do you like your passion fruit though? Besides in your drinks.” Guessing what kind of dessert it would be in was difficult.

“My go-to is a fruit-filled cake, with frosting on top.” He cupped his hands to show her the size. “They’re so good when they’re crunchy and warm,” he smiled and looked down at his hands.

“I’ve tried plenty of fruit-filled cakes, but never a passion fruit one.” It was more of an acquired taste. 

“You should definitely try it at some point. The ones from Danielle’s are pretty good." 

"Danielle’s, huh. I’ll ask my parents to make one." 

He furrowed his brows. "You’ve got something against Danielle’s?” He chuckled.

“Maybe,” she mumbled.

“What was that?” He leans in and cups a hand around his eat, grinning like the fool he is.

“I do!” She groans. “I know, I know, it’s not nice to hold grudges, but she totally stole our cake design for the annual Cake-fest two years ago!” She throws her hands up in the air and he laughs at her frustration.

“How so?” He asks through giggles.

“Ugh, I don’t want to get into it. I could rant for hours.” She rolled her eyes thinking about it.

“I’ve got time,” he smiled. 

She laughed. “So, the cake was supposed to be based on a specific type of tree, because the prompt that year was nature, right?” She began.

“Right,” he nodded and folded his hands under his chin, paying close attention.

[you-andthebottlemen]

57 - Requests: Dating Van in secret + hearing Hourglass for the first time

Based on these my requests:

'Hi!! Can you do one where Van plays Hourglass to you for the first time? I adore your writing 😍

Can you write a fic where you and Van are secretly dating until you accidentally call him "Ryan" in front of the rest of the band? Thank you, love x

************************************************************

Van was in the shower and you could hear him softly singing through the drone caused by water hitting the tiles. You smiled to yourself as you folded his clean laundry and placed it back into his empty suitcase, ready for the next time he would be up and leaving for tour. Having him away for so long on the last one was hard enough, you dreaded to think about the times to come.

“Baaabe!” he called.

You put down the fuzzy, moth bitten black sweater and slipped into the small bathroom across the hall from his bedroom. It smelt of strongly of your sweet strawberry body wash. Van stood under the water, his hair dark and wet hanging around his face. He was washing his body with a loofah and had suds caught in his chest hair.

“Yes?” you smiled sweetly, leaning against the door frame.

He motioned for you to come closer.

You shut the door behind you and when you were close enough, Van leant forward and drew a heart in the steam on the glass. You placed your hand over it and met his eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” you said.

Van drew some kisses beside the heart.

“Come join me.”

How could you say no? You stripped out of your clothes, leaving them discarded on the floor and stepped into the shower with Van. He reached for you and pulled your cold naked body into his wet and warm one. You wrapped your arms around his middle and buried your head into the crook of his neck, letting the water rush over your hair. With a heavy sigh, you shut your eyes; you’d never felt more relaxed. Van’s arms were curled around you and his hands rested on your lower back. You began to kiss lines down his neck and collarbones, over his shoulders then back up along his jaw to his lips.

It was the small moments like this that you adored the most. You could have stayed there forever, basking in the way Van felt against your skin and how time seemed to stop.

The universe had other ideas, though.

“Mate!” Larry yelled through the house, his voice just audible over the sound of the shower.

You and Van stood bolt upright in panic. Larry was meant to be out all day.

“Yeah?” Van called back, still holding you to his chest under the water.

Larry shouted back something muffled then you heard a knock on the door. Your heart lurched, Van pushed you behind him and your arms instinctively went to cover your chest.

“Uhh hold on a second mate,” Van called back, trying to sound normal and not panic stricken as he quickly turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel, tossed it to you and you wrapped it around your cold, anxious body.

You and Van were dating in secret. No one knew, especially the boys. To them, you were just another mate, one of the guys. For now though, your relationship with Van was something you kept to yourselves; mostly to save the teasing and embarrassment that would surely ensue once the guys found out. You kind of liked having it as your own little secret though; just not in moments like these.

You heard the door handle turn and froze on the spot.

“Give me a minute!” Van yelled to Larry. The door handle stopped turning and you heard a sigh.

Van poked his head outside the door, keeping it as closed as he could.

“Jeez, what you got company in there or somethin’?” Larry teased.

“What? No. Just want some privacy is all,” Van replied. You bit down on your lip and tried to stay quiet.

“Right…”

Larry told Van whatever it was he so desperately needed to, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight of Van curled around the door, bare ass sticking out. You breathed a sigh of relief too that Larry hadn’t just walked in; something not uncommon for those two. Neither of them had any boundaries with each other. The fact they’d posted videos of them in the shower together on Instagram before was proof enough of that.

Once you heard Larry tread back down the hallway, Van shut the door then crept back into the shower and wrapped his arms around you again. Both of your faces held a look somewhere between an amused grin and a relieved, yet shocked grimace.

“Close call,” you whispered then kissed him slowly.

Van was shivering slightly so you went to fling the towel away and restart the water.

“Sorry love, I gotta bounce. Band stuff.”

Your face fell into a pout and Van smirked at your neediness. He snatched the towel that was loosely draped around your body. The force of it made you spin around a little bit and Van quickly squeezed your ass cheek that now faced him.

“Ryan!” you whisper shouted, turning back around.

Van just smirked once again and tied the towel around his waist then leant in to kiss your cheek hastily as a goodbye. You knew he hated being called Ryan so what started as simple teasing had become somewhat of a habit now and he didn’t fight you about it anymore either.

“What am I going to do with you…” you sighed and shook your head at his cheekiness.

“Well, later, if Larry lad doesn’t interrupt again, you can do whatever you want with me,” Van replied quietly with a wink but his tone serious.

Trust him to make it dirty. Van disappeared out the door, leaving you standing there cold, alone and kind of turned on.

Once you heard the door close and lock behind Van and Larry, you floated back into Van’s room, threw on one of his t-shirts and settled yourself in his bed. Cuddled up in the warm duvet you breathed in his smell, missing him already even though he’d only just left. With a deep breath out, you gazed around Van’s room and looked at all the bits and pieces that filled it. The lighter and pack of cigarettes on the windowsill, a bookshelf filled with records and other miscellaneous items, a few pairs of boots by the door. His chest of drawers with clothes haphazardly stuffed inside. The bedside table littered with an ashtray, chewing gum, deodorant, various cords and plug adapters and a small leather-bound notebook.

The notebook bit at your curiosity. Van was always scribbling away in it, but he never really shared its contents. You looked away, knowing you shouldn’t invade his privacy. You snuggled down into the pillow and tried to sleep away the hours until Van came home. However, the thought of what lay hidden inside Van’s head tugged at you and left you restless. You were just so infuriatingly curious.

Gazing around the room again, as if worried you’d be seen, you sat up and reached slowly for Van’s notebook. You couldn’t help yourself. As you flipped through the pages you smiled at his scrawly handwriting and little doodles. You didn’t really pause on anything too long, feeling a bit shitty for prying. Though you stopped flicking through the dog eared, scribble covered pages when you found a song that appeared to be called ‘Hourglass’. Your heart melted at the lyrics; all fragments of things you and Van had said to each other throughout the course of your relationship about missing each other or keeping things secret, about being in love and wanting to be together in every way of the word.

“Dreams of you fucking me all the time”…. You rolled your eyes and grinned to yourself. Only Ryan Evan McCann would ever put those words in a song and still manage to make it come off as romantic. The bit about being a soldier’s wife made you smile too; you remembered the night you’d said that to him vividly. You wondered how the song sounded when he sang it, if he’d even worked out that part yet.

Your phone suddenly buzzed, making you jump. You quickly closed the book and put it back. Van probably wouldn’t mind you peeking at his ideas, but you still felt guilty as hell. Speak of the devil; it was Van texting to say he’d be later than anticipated at the studio, but you could drop by if you wanted.

Hanging with the guys these days, given the circumstance, was equally anxiety inducing and exciting. Fuck it, you thought. You pulled on some clothes, making sure they were definitely your own, and headed out the door. As you left Van’s bedroom, you gave the little notebook a final glance.

On your way to the studio, you stopped to pick up a box of donuts for the guys and a milkshake for yourself.

“I come bearing gifts!” you loudly announced as you walked into the small cosy studio, holding the donuts up in all their glory.

“I’ll take that,” Bondy replied, grabbing the box from your hand and tucking into a pink sprinkled treat quicker than you could blink.

The studio consisted of a few rooms. The actual recording booth with the small mixing room or control room or whatever attached, a snug lounge that was now littered with mugs and ashtrays and then another little room for instruments and other miscellaneous gear. You sat beside Bondy on the couch and both Bob and Benji emerged from the gear room. They greeted you with hugs and thank you’s and both took donuts as well before slipping back to whatever they were doing before you arrived.

Van was still in the recording booth, wearing large headphones that pushed back his hair and made his face look small and delicate. He was tracking some harmonies apparently. As you watched him, you wanted nothing more than to drag him out the door and back into the shower where you could be warm and close and kiss every inch of his body. You tried not to gaze at him for too long in fear of the other’s noticing, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from flicking back to him. He’d not seen you yet.

“So uh, what you doing here y/n?” Bondy asked.

“Van texted,” you shrugged, trying to maintain eye contact and not guiltily look away.

Van eventually bounced through the door and you both had to pretend you were only mates. Excruciating yet weirdly somewhat of a turn on; knowing you’d be anything but just mates, later in private. Van was now sat beside you on the couch, your knees touching as he ate the last of the donuts.

“Finished anything?” you asked, always eager to hear new songs.

You glanced over at Van and saw he had some sprinkles stuck to his chin. Instinctively you reached out to wipe them away but Van swatted your hand down quickly and your eyes widened in realisation.

“Uh, sprinkles,” you said awkwardly, looking at him without blinking and pointing at your own chin.

“Cheers,” he replied, wiping his face. “But uh, no not yet, though I reckon soon this one…it’s gonna be perfect for the album.”

Van glanced back at the recording booth as he spoke, referring to the song he’d just been working on. He began to rant about what he’d been doing in the studio when you’d arrived. All hand movements and funny sounds mixed with the odd remarkable big word you’d never expect him to know let alone use in a sentence. Bondy took it as his cue to go outside for a smoke. When Van talked about music, or the band, his eyes just lit up differently. He beamed and it made you feel weak at the knees. You thought back to his lyric book; guilt washed over you again and you looked away.

In that moment, Van caught you unawares and snatched the milkshake out of your hands and began loudly slurping on it.

“Oi! Ryan! Give that back!”

You reached out to grab your drink back and Van just grinned, leant back and continued slurping. You all but climbed into his lap and reached for it but he just held it further and further away the more you stretched and whined. He put a hand on your lower back where your t-shirt had ridden up, to steady you as you leaned over him to reach up and take back the cup. Even when he was being an annoying shit, he was still thoughtful. It killed you in the best way.

“Ryan?” Bondy questioned.

You whipped around and saw Bondy standing in the doorway looking confused. Shit. Van’s hand flew off you.

“Just teasing him,” you replied with a forced laugh. No one called Van ‘Ryan’ except his mother. And now you.

You moved off of Van, letting him have the last of your milkshake. Bondy was watching you both closely with squinted, suspicious eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you guys are fucking,” he said with a sigh of disgust.

“What?” Van spluttered, choking on your milkshake. “No way mate,” he added, trying to sound casual.

You stayed quiet.

“No no, I can see right through you two! She called you Ryan and you said nothin’ of it!”

Bondy laughed and came back to sit beside you. You were stunned and didn’t know what to say. As you opened your mouth to spurt out some more bullshit, Bob and Benji walked back into the room.

“Guys. These two are fucking,” Bondy chuckled.

“No way,” Benji said in disbelief. Bob looked bewildered.

“But Van…she’s like….a guy? Like one of us,” Benji added.

You were slightly offended at that. One of the guys sure, but ‘like a guy’?

“I’m super womanly thank you very much!” you snapped and threw Benji a scowl.

“Van would know,” Bondy teased in a suggestive voice and they all burst out laughing except for you and Van.

Your cheeks burned. You knew this would happen.

“Cut it out lads,” Van responded as he placed the empty milkshake cup down on the floor by his feet. His voice was slightly stern now; you could tell he was pissed off.

“Someone’s sensitive,” Benji said quietly and raising his eyebrows, only making Bondy giggle more.

You looked between the three boys, then back at Van whose face was unreadable apart from the eye roll.  

“Er- how do you...know…?” Bob asked softly.

“Y/n called him Ryan.”

“As a joke!” you defended, trying to cover your slip up. “Why is it even a big deal!?”

“Didn’t sound like a joke,” Bondy smirked and you huffed.

“Oh my god they so are,” Benji laughed.

“Y/n and Van sitting in a tree…!” Benji and Bondy began to chant. This was followed by crass roleplays of you and Van flirting; Bondy acting as you with a high-pitched voice and batting his eyelashes and then Benji as ‘Ryan’. It was hilarious but also made your stomach turn and cheeks flush red.

“Fuck’s sake lads can we not do this?!” Van barked, taking you all by surprise. He hardly ever spoke like that.

Everyone went silent and looked at him. Van nudged you with his knee and you gulped. You turned to meet his gaze and you knew what he was about to do.

“We aren’t like, fuckin’, okay? Me and y/n are together, like proper,” Van admitted, his voice a little quiet and less angry than before. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up funny at the front. “So get over it lads,” he added with a knowing glance at Bondy.

“Okay….Ryan,” Bondy replied and then burst into another fit of laughter.

Van muttered something under his breath then took you by the hand and led you out into one of the other rooms in the studio. He shut the door behind him then leaned against it, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“It’s fine. They were going to have to find out at some point, it’s a miracle we lasted this long in secret,” you sighed. “Anyway, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have called you Ryan.”

You moved closer to Van and pressed your shoulder against his. He rolled his head to look at you, his fringe falling into his bright blue eyes.

“Secretly, I love it when you do that,” Van admitted quietly, looking down and licking his lips. Your jaw dropped in faux, sarcastic shock.

“Don’t tell anyone or I’ll kill ya’,” he laughed, as he pulled you into him and curled his long arms around you.

Van smiled down at you and you couldn’t help but think of how beautiful he looked. You kissed him slowly, happy to be able to touch him and feel him like this again. You tangled your fingers into his hair, his hands slipped under your shirt and trailed up and down your back.

“That was a mess out there,” you chuckled as you pulled away. Van nodded and pouted accompanied by a soft groan.

“It’ll be okay,” you whispered and rested your forehead against his, your eyes closed.

“I have something to show you,” he whispered back.

Van let you go but led you by the hand over to a chair in the corner. He made you sit and then went to grab his acoustic guitar.

“This is what I was workin’ on when you arrived. It’s probably not gonna be as good as the one on the album but I wanna show you now, not wait.”

You held your breath as Van knelt down on the floor in front of you and began strumming a soft yet clunky and catchy tune. Then you heard it. The lyrics from ‘Hourglass’ that you’d seen in the notebook.

As he sang each line, the moments and memories associated with each flashed through your mind. The lyrics made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. The guitar sounded slightly out of tune but that didn’t matter. God, you loved him. Nothing felt more special than when Van sang to you; now he was singing about you. The song was beautiful, filled with sweet words and high notes. The thought of this being on the album, their first album…you couldn’t fathom it. You felt as if your heart had burst open on the spot and love was pouring out of you.

When the song finished, you slid off the chair and onto your knees in front of Van. You grabbed his face in your hands and kissed him hard, the guitar resting between your bodies.

“So, you like it then?” Van chuckled.

���I love it, Van. And you,” you replied, your voice a little shaky.

You pulled him into you again and held him tight. Van nestled into your neck and you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

“I have to tell you something though…”

“What?” Van mumbled into your hair.

“I peeked at your notebook and saw the lyrics…” you squeaked; eyes shut tight bracing for the fallout.

Van tipped his head back and brushed hair out of your face and behind your ears.

“God, you really do know how to drive me up the wall, don’t ya?” he chuckled.

“You know I love to…” you replied, referring the lyrics with a smug grin on your lips.

“What am I going to do with you, y/n?” Van answered, repeating your words from earlier with a smile and making your heart skip a beat.

[hoopdiddies]

I'm Not Over You // Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 7)

A/N: This is probably the longest I've written in this series. Again guys, thank you for the support, your comments and likes mean so much! My tag list is always open so feel free to ask. And on a slightly heavy note: the next chapter could be really angsty. Just a heads up right there uwu

Summary: You had always loved Ben ever since you two met in university and became the best of friends. That feeling went out like a candle flame when the two of you parted ways until he re-entered your life...but this time with someone who has already occupied his heart.

Warnings: Angst, slight drinking, slight swearing, (yeah the fluff is still present)

W/C: 5k-ish

Tags: @haendel-me-with-care

@mrsdoradominguez-barnes

@mickmoon

@lakef

@mrsmazzello

@valeriecarolinaw

@queen-turtle-boiii

Edited// I forgot to link the previous parts

Parts: 6 5 4 3 2 1

(Got the pic from Pinterest hhh-)

Storing the luggage bag you've purchased for a fair price in the spare room, you come across a small box of sundries tucked in one corner with cobwebs clinging to the sides. Your eyes light up with curiosity spiking within you, you pick it up and dust the webs off, blowing the particles away from the top. You squat on the floor and open the flaps, discovering small yet familiar items that had been lost in time– one of them being a sepia-toned polaroid of you and Ben posing dramatically with hilarious doodles drawn on your faces. You forgot about this, feeling a little guilty that you had hidden it away in a drafty box without remembering doing anything of the sort. You flip the picture over and spot a date and an unfinished sentence written in faded ink on the bottom left part. This was taken on Homecoming night.

'I'm not going-' it says, clearly discontinued next to the date. Silly to think that the picture somehow represents a puzzle piece torn away from its board.

You were bound to graduate the week after and barely a day after, not see each other for several years due to your career paths and post-college choices.

You pull on the hem of your shirt, clearing the picture of dust and any more impurities, finally fitting it into your back pocket to finally treasure it the way it was always meant to be treasured.

The door clicks as you bring it close, your eyes gluing themselves at the hardwood floor seconds to having self-pity billow over you at how quickly your tears surface in the corner of your eyes from the memory of Ben spinning Rosy around - the exact way he did with you -and kissing her like she's a pouch full of life.

You clamp down on your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to stain your cheeks with your pooling tears. "Jeez, you just-" you pace back and forth in frustration, balling your fists as you gesticulate lazily, "you just don't get it, Y/N! Ugh, you're so- fuck, just get over it..." Knowing your harsh soliloquy would be getting you nowhere, you snarl strongly at yourself and roughly wipe your tears away with the back of your hand.

"He loves Rosy. F-freaking deal with it!" The reminder takes a hiss from your quivering lips for it to sink in; you have your own place in his life– a place behind the line you'd drawn in the years prior. The friend zone couldn't be any more hollow and cold than it already is.

And a polaroid pic is the only remnant left of how inseparable you and Ben were in the early days.

At the same time you're feeling your heart tear itself apart, Ben pulls out a picture - similar to what you've found - from the inner pocket of his old varsity jacket in the middle of rummaging through his wardrobe. He leaves his room in his pajamas and tosses himself on the couch next to a sleeping Frankie, softly apologizing to the little beagle for disturbing her cat-like nap. As he cuddles Frankie close, he scrutinizes the picture and it's also from Homecoming, but in it both of you are beaming widely with your arms slung around one another– the doodles ever-so-present on your faces. Behind it, the date and the continuation of the trailed-off sentence written at the back of your share of the memory.

'-anywhere at all.'- it ends in Ben's part of the duality. He grins fondly at the long lost picture, feeling twice as guilty for not keeping it safe and...close to his heart, just as he had promised you that night.

- - - - - - - -

In the convenience of Lucy needing some company to shop with for awards season just as she had returned from her get-away with Rami, she drags you along happily, having to pass through you insisting that you stay at home and study but purposefully ending up under her mercy anyway. You couldn't say no to her, she's basically your sparkly, glam counterpart and you're in need of her life-altering sparkles as of now. Especially since you're going to be tagging along with them, mainly as Joe's date cause you know, you're his 'girlfriend' and all.

You're at the mall, in a stylish boutique full of lines of voguish clothing and shoes that could span miles if not compressed together. For once in the hours you've spent scampering around the mall with Lucy to hoard dresses, skin products and make up, you admit that this is the most aesthetically pleasing space in the entire building.

You traipse along a section with black dresses fashioned into different forms, silently praying that what you have with you will amount to at least one of the varying prices.

Lucy's on the opposite side, ogling at the most colorful section in the boutique for a piece to wear. She peers over at you to make sure you've chosen your 'fighter'. A few swishes of the dresses lined up and you do, holding it up high to evaluate the appropriateness.

It's a sleeveless, halter neck satin that's just a few inches above the knee. Utterly backless but it ends right up the small of your back. The fabric is stretchy enough to move around and breathe in as it simultaneously hugs your shape. You love it but gulp as you prepare yourself for the price. Flipping the tag over, you suddenly wish you could let out the biggest, girlish squeal the human race has ever heard with how surprisingly affordable it is.

"Finally picked out yours?" Lucy pokes her head up playfully and you nod, quite speechless but giddy. She makes a grabby hand at your dress to examine it for herself.

Well she's the fashion guru so why not? You hand her the dress and as she trails her eyes from top to bottom, her mouth falls at the simple yet elegant details. "This is perfect! I highly doubt that it's not going to catch every exposed eye present at the event."

Your flush profusely at her comment. "Thanks but I'll be bringing a coat with me."

That triggered her, but of course you're only teasing. "You better effing not." She warns you and you chuckle, taking the dress from her and evenly brushing the skirt.

"I won't, you can sleep soundly tonight."

You assure her of the possibility. As you exit the boutique with a few bags you're not used to holding, Lucy takes out her phone and gasps, her face contorting with a little disbelief. "Uh oh, this might ruin your mood." She hands you the phone and you gape at her confusingly before taking a quick look.

Ben's posted some updates on his wedding preparations, shockingly tagging you, Joe, Gwil and Lucy in one photo. He's pretty busy alright; unable to text or call you for days but miraculously tagging you out of nowhere.

You come to disregard it until you notice one minute but important detail hidden in plain sight in all of his posts– there isn't a single one with him and Rosy together alone. None of such as well on his new ones.

The only post he's had with a close girl is the one with you, which is at the very bottom of his Instagram feed. You won't admit it but it warms your heart a little. Actually, a whole lot despite wondering why there's none of him and his fiancee. You hand Lucy her phone back and tilt your head to one side, suddenly finding the eagerness to go on shopping. "Let's go."

The following week comes as a radial blur contrasted to the slightly moderate one you just woke up from; your manager phoning you up to take the earliest shift you've had in years at the expense of your allotted time to rest, the heavy workload and rush hours in the upcoming hours followed by the slowest progress of filing your travel documents and visa needed for your departure on the 26th. You've got tons of missed calls from your parents and Joe, who's requested for you to pack up early since you'll be leaving for LA with Lucy on the day of the awards but earlier.

Also noting that you still need to double check the costs for flying to LA and back, ruling out the one exclusive for your flight on the 26th.

For mere days you feel as if you could lose your sanity as your life spirals into madness with everything you're required to do– whether or not you're obliged to do it.

But they are effective distractions for that problem you are still very much preoccupied with. That's a matter noteworthy of later discussion. Amidst all the chaos happening, part of you wishes for Ben to reply to your messages or even talk to you in the slightest. You never bothered to call this week since he's tied up but the least he could do is let you know how he's doing, if he's thinking of you once in a thousand passing seconds.

You give up for a day waiting on him and drown yourself in work.

- - - - - - -

Securing your phone between your tilted head and your shoulder as you indulge in your talk with Joe through the line, you crouch and zip your luggage bag close. Your eyes fixating themselves on two, separate luggage bags for two, separate travels.

"Was that all of it?" Joe's disembodied voice asks. You spring up and take your phone between your fingers. "Pretty much. I better have a kick out of something by the time we touchdown tomorrow– it's my first visit to the US." You inform him, leaping into your bed and landing comfortably.

He chortles softly and ensures you. "I know and you can be sure to expect a good par- ow! Bad kitty!" His smooth transition to a yelp amuses you for split second.

"Are you alright? "

"No. I'm finally feline food to my kid." He refers to his pet cat that has taken a small nibble on his finger, in which Joe returns with a light ruffle to its fur. You can't help but giggle heartily at him.

"Anyway, I'm picking you and Lucy up from LAX tomorrow." He gives you that heads up and you bring your hand up to your forehead. "Where will we be staying?"

"I've booked a hotel earlier so you've got nothing to worry about the moment you land." A faint crunch can be heard from your end and you mind to ask Joe about it. "Are you- are you eating?"

To answer your question, he bites down on his food sloppily and guarantees you of what you heard. You smack your lips together as your eyes narrow in bewilderment.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Sometimes you make it easier for me to hit you with a pillow."

"Is that how you treat your boyfriend?" He taunts at you and cackles, his distorted voice bouncing off of the walls of your room. You sigh, defeated by the fact that this charade is still going on. It's silly and immature yet you and Joe somehow managed to stick to the act.

"Speaking of boyfriend though– would he be furious if I told him that I couldn't be there on his wedding day?" Since you're rested and got nothing else to distract you, you pop the question to Joe.

"Ben?"

You hum softly.

"There are two scenarios that we need to consider," on his end, Joe taps his finger on his lips as he thinks of said scenarios, "Best case scenario- he would get discouraged and slightly unmotivated, and obviously sad, but he'd still support you cause that's your dream."

You sit up and twirl the ends of your hair around your finger, swallowing. "And worst case scenario?"

Joe falls silent before exhaling harshly. "You'd crush his soul, heart, everything ranging from physical to spiritual and it would take a toll– and I mean a substantial toll on your friendship."

"Joe, don't make it sound like a prospect! "

"That is, " he adds strongly, "if he finds out that you had meant for him to be oblivious to it." And he's right. But you had a reason. You still do. Even if you do end up telling him and he supports you, you need a great deal of space to move on.

As long as he's committed to Rosy and you're in the sidelines still in love with him, it's just something toxic. You couldn't love anybody they way you do Ben and you feel like you'll never love someone like him ever again. Albeit how clueless he is sometimes and clumsy, you both had survived every storm and wave. So sticking around to witness him give his hand and heart to someone else is torture for you.

"I'm gonna be direct and say-" just as you begin talking, your phone shrills to another caller, cutting you off from Joe.

One look at the screen and your heart begins racing. Speak of the devil. You reserve an explanation for cutting off and answer Ben, clearing your throat. "You're late."

Ben's gruff chuckle welcomes you back. "I know, I'm so sorry. Busiest week I've had and the lady at Starbucks signed my cup like a snail."

"What are you doing tonight that requires coffee?"

"Call me dramatic- or do so, given that I'm an actor- but I just want to stargaze right now." You hear a light rustle coming from his end, like he's seated out on his lawn.

Silently giving him the 'oh really' look, you spread one side of the curtain to let some moon light in. "Ben, you're leaving early tomorrow."

He hums, seemingly enjoying himself. "But that's not an excuse to not enjoy the night." This boy can not get any cornier. You cast your gaze upon the moon, sighing profoundly. "How did the wedding planning go? Good?"

"Hm, yeah. Church wedding, big reception. Whole lot of booze binging planned out. And a killer bachelor party the day after the awards. " He jokes through the line and you tell him off in a playful chide. "Benjamin Jones, you better-"

"I won't. I won't." You sense his gentle smile from your end, checking the time and reluctantly coming to the decision to hit the hay since you'll be leaving early as well. As much as you want to recreate those late night conversations you once had with him, you can't.

"Hey?" You coo somehow.

"Yeah?"

"I gotta sleep. I have to meet Lucy at the airport at 5."

He gives out a throaty grunt as if he's pulling himself up. "Tragic. I'll see you in LA then, love."

Your lips curl up into the gentlest smile with the moonlight blessing it from the window. "You too. Tell yourself and the rest- especially Brian and Roger- that I'm gonna be rooting for you guys to get up on that stage."

"I will. Thanks for the motivation, Y/N. All the words coming from you just mean so much to me. To all of us." And in his voice, you can hear his utmost sincerity and fondness just highlighting his tone.

"Anytime. Now let me sleep, you bloke. "

"Haha, alright. Love you tons, love."

Shifting your eyes to the sky once more, you reply, allowing the words you're about to say to mean more.

"I love you too, Ben. Good night."

- - - - - - -

24th

You had promised Lucy you'd arrive 10 minutes earlier than her and you really didn't hold on to that promise. As soon as you arrive at the airport nearly bathing in sweat and deaf from the multiple rings Lucy has given you, you both take off to the waiting area with your heavy luggage where you spend an hour and a half waiting for your flight to board. Joe has sent two texts telling you that he's still in the middle of having coffee and it's a questionable action since he's 8 hours behind you and is expected to be asleep by now.

You reply with a simple, "See you there" before heeding to the call of your flight number from the speakers.

All the rushing and you haven't had a bite of breakfast yet. An eleven hour flight doesn't sound so bad, as long as you make sure you don't reel everytime you get up to use the bathroom and acquire jet lag the moment you land from a direct flight without any pit stops. The flight is long as you are awake but by the time you fall asleep in between hours, it shortens the duration. The pilot announcing your arrival wakes you and Lucy from the latest nap you've had on the plane. After gathering your luggage and answering a couple of phone calls on you way down the plane, the arrival area is where you spy Joe behind the red tapes, a scarf around his neck and an eager look plastered on his pale skin, just waiting for you and Lucy to step in. His eyes crinkle as he sees you both treading towards him with a handful of luggage. He greets you both with a tight hug and ushers you to his car, assisting with the transport of your things.

He's booked you in the hotel he's staying in to, of course, avoid some minor inconveniences especially since the awards start at 7 pm and you drastically need Lucy to help you prepare. Upon reaching the hotel, he leads the both of you up the second floor and into the hall for your rooms.

Apparently you and Lucy will be sharing which is the great and Joe will be staying in the room right across yours.

After giving yourselves a brief tour of the room, you settle in and unpack your essentials.

"Y/N, bring out your fighter!" Lucy declares with a giggle, pulling the dress she's chosen from her suitcase. It's a purple, off-the-shoulder, crepe satin and black velvet gown that cascades gracefully against the stable air.

Your eyes widen in awe at how it looks against the light. "No need for a match, Luce. You win," you raise your hands up in surrender, "that's- that's catching more eyes. From Rami of course."

"Oh shut it. You'll look smooth in black." She clicks her tongue and smoothens it at the edge of the bed. You whip out yours and hold it up high, wavering a little at how you'll look like in it tonight. How fortunate you were to find 3-inch, black pumps closeted when you were 'panic packing' the night before. You take it out from your suitcase and set it aside before striding towards the blinds, pulling it up and beholding the breathtaking view of Hollywood before you.

Your first visit to the US and you're already headed to the Oscars. This isn't the real life. This is just fantasy.

- - - - - - - -

"We're having a dinner party afterwards, I don't see any reason for two sandwiches before the ceremony." Staring blankly at how Joe's handling waiting for you and Lucy to emerge from your room, Rami purses his lips quizzically– he's come by to pick up his girl as well. The two men look dashingly handsome in their black tuxes and slick hairstyles– their individual charm strong as they highly anticipate for your appearances.

Joe swallows the chunk in his mouth before speaking. "I'm stressed."

"About what?"

He bites down on his last sandwich, dusting his hands off crumbs as he reasons out. "It's the Oscars. Biggest ceremony of the year."

With a shake of his head, Rami opens his mouth to protest but pauses as the creak of the door behind them butts in their conversation. Lucy - exquisite in her cascading satin gown and look dotted in light to moderate make up - emerges with her purse in hand and eyes heady on Rami.

Joe wishes he could loosen some hinges in Rami's jaw since the latter has got his mouth agape at her girlfriend's evening look. To him, she is his ultimate award and he wouldn't have it in any other way.

"Hey, babe." Lucy smiles delicately and kisses Rami's cheek, to which he responds with a breathless, "Luce, you look..." His starstruck silence finishing his compliment for her. Joe hums, agreeing with crossed arms. "I wish I was as pretty as you, Boynton."

"You boys look handsome, too." Lucy giggles softly and Joe begins to wonder. "Where's Y/N?"

"She'll be out in three...two..." As Lucy deliberately pauses her countdown, you come out of the room, head down as you feel a bit hesitant to continue but you regain your confidence and look up timidly– your appearance putting Joe in the same position Rami was just in with Lucy. The dress really agrees to your form, contouring every curve of your body in a semi-sensual way, guaranteeing that you'll be snagging some looks tonight. Your (H/C) hair frames your face intricately with your light make-up emphasizing the color of your eyes and lips. The light brush of air against the skin of your exposed back makes you clutch your purse tighter, deeming it uncomfortable.

Lucy smiles proudly at her work and that is you. "Well, how does she look Joe?"

Joe lets out a hitched exhale, hazel eyes wide as a sinkhole and a slacked jaw struggling to budge. "Like my girlfriend."

"You wish." You can't help but retort playfully and he brings his finger up to his lips, hushing you. Rami compliments you as well and you thank him as the four of you make your way to the elevator– your arm on Joe's and Lucy's on Rami's.

You've taken a limo for the sake of convenience, since Joe and Rami wanted to propose a pre-toast - with the champagne present in the vehicle - to their successes and hard work in the past year. You have faith they'd bring home an Oscar; considering how spectacular their work was portraying the members of Queen. You're also thrilled that you're about to meet Brian and Roger.

The limo parks just across Dolby Theatre and the four of you climb out, making your way arms-in-arms into the place crowded with paparazzi and attendees. You see yourself as a small fish swimming in a sea full of majestic dolphins. This is the big leagues right here and you're not even one bit of a celebrity– at least you feel like you aren't one. After a couple of shoulder brushes with either familiar and unfamiliar faces and escaping the blinding flashes of the cameras, the four of you reunite with Gwilym who has Roger and Brian present by his side. You are introduced to the two Queen members by Joe and you couldn't be any more happier to meet them in person. A couple of moments of interacting with the rest of the crew and cast, Ben joins the 'party' looking sharp and admittedly drop-dead gorgeous in his white tuxedo blazer and slicked back hair with Rosy by his side.

Before he could even reply to the greetings of his friends, he lays his eyes on you and for a while– his pupils dilate and his expression flits faster than he can command it to. He can't believe what or who he is seeing before him amidst all the glam. Letting go of Rosy's hand for a minute, he steps close to you, indescribably captivated. "Y/N...h-hey."

You keep your composure, musing back. "Hey. You look left out, outfit-wise, and a like a million bucks."

It takes him nearly five seconds to reply with the way hes has his eyes transfixed on you. It's like he's seeing you for the first time. Your evening look setting him back to Homecoming night and something inside him just tweaks. You avoid his mindless gaze and break the silence, trying your hardest not to flush. "Ben, please talk. It's just really-"

"You look...beautiful." He breathes out like he had just gotten up from under water.

[i-am-here-with-fanfic]

TOSHI X READER: The Perfect Model

A/N: Apparently I forgot how to title so here you go.

I AM ALSO SO SORRY TO POST SO LATE. @fandomhell97 had sent ne this request before ....March April? I know it was the 15th because that was my spring break but i didnt have time to write it and edit it in less than a week cuz training.

SO I GIVE YOU THIS TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU.

Edit: May 10, 2019 9:40PM: @starrylegend helped me a lot editing like 3.8/4 of the story!! Yay, belated credit 😰😅😅😅 *nervous laugh*

~

It was a strange thing, feeling so attached to your drawings. You always had a sense of pride and happiness from your years of practice, sketching whatever caught your eye around the world; however, you were most grateful for the fact that the perfect model came to you.

Toshinori Yagi.

With you two being partners sharing a household, there were many opportunities to sketch his gorgeous face, fluffy hair, and insecure body. After his final battle with All For One, though, Toshinori had fallen into a state of despair, and you remained by his side until he felt better; even if it meant you had to delay your sketching to tend to your boyfriend.

He was resting in bed, despite his complaints to do anything else but rest. Fortunately, you managed to convince him otherwise.

Laying beside Toshi, you held his head in your lap, caressing his face, trying to lull him to sleep. You were captivated by his looks; the bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep; stress; and who knows what else. ... While still gently stroking along his jawline, you admired the sharp angles of his chin and the shadows that danced across beautiful cyan eyes, your boyfriend finally succumbing to the need to sleep.. You leaned forward to press your lips against his recently moisturized ones, but he woke up, surprised and adorably shy.

“W-why did you do that?” He asked, his cheeks turning a pale rose as he averted his eyes.

You smiled, holding him closer. “You tempted me with that gorgeous face,” you say before assaulting him with a shower of kisses, causing him to laugh softly and grin as he took every kiss to the depths of his soul, feeling a boost from your kindness.

He shifted around until he nuzzled into your abdomen, wrapping his good arm around you.

That image was burned into your mind and you thanked a force out there that you were capable of remembering it. When Toshinori was stubborn enough to go back to U.A., you only shook your head with a smile, reminding him to be careful and sending him off with a kiss.

With the image of your lover laughing etched into your mind, you decided to draw him while you still saw it clearly.

You first grabbed your blanket from your bedroom, with the scent of your boyfriend in it, it was the second thing that would remind you of the safety and warmth you felt while in his arms. Sketchbook and pencil in hand, you opened it up to an empty page, placing your earphones on as soft music played, calming yourself.

After a few hours, you really concentrating on capturing the details in your boyfriend’s fluffy, yellow hair, you didn’t notice the door opening and closing, signaling that your boyfriend was home. When Toshinori heard the scratch of pencil on paper, his first thought was of you sketching, something he had not seen you do in a while.

Leaning against the wall, he gazed at your form on the couch, your blanket loosely draped over your shoulders.. He smiled as he slowly approached you from behind the couch, resting his arms on it and pulling out an earphone, causing you to yelp from surprise and close your sketchbook out of habit. This earned a string of rapid apologies from your boyfriend as you turned, sitting with your knees on the couch to see him as a stuttering mess before reassuring him that it okay, pressing a few kisses against his lips in the process.

“Drawing a flower as usual?” he asked, smiling softly, cautiously placing his hand on your waist.

He so wanted to be the cheesy, romantic guy, but he just didn't know how your reaction would be. Usually when he does something romantic, in his experience, it would be awkward as hell.

“Yeah, it's a fluffy dandelion,” you answered with a smile that your boyfriend mirrored.

“You and your fluffy dandelions.” He kissed the tip of your nose, trying to be cute without feeling likes he's being weird.

“You hungry, babe?” You had asked, smiling warmly at his gentle expression.

“Well...a little,” he admits, lightly scratching his cheek with a shy smile. You got up from the couch to walk to the kitchen to prepare a meal for the two of you to share.

Toshinori was about to follow when he thought “What’s in the sketchbook?”

He flipped to the first page and noticed a building with flowers surrounding it, the flower shop.

He knew it was wrong, he just knew it was wrong. He was going to be frowned upon ag looking without permission, but he just couldn't help it. Curiousity got the best of him.

He opened the book carefully and He gently flipped through until he stopped at a page that was his face in profile. Then the next was All Might posing. For each page that he turned, his face turned into a different shade of pink from the embarrassment, why would you be so interested in drawing him. You were so precise in his facial features that in some doodles you drew him with wet hair covering his eyes and frowning, the next doodle was him with an exaggerated puffy hair that was still covering his eyes, still frowning. So you were amused with his hair...and you made him look like a cartoon character with the bad luck of a cat with water. If you’ve drawn him like this, you captured him with fascination. That was a lot for him, his cheeks getting warmer, but also with a cup of doubt. Did you love him as a model? Nothing else?

You did have talent, that’s for sure, but he did start to feel bad on top of the guilt and shame of going through your stuff.

He turned the next page, to see if you have drawn anymore, and to his surprise you did, the new drawing. You had drawn him sleeping and it was so realistic. He couldn’t help but feel the pride of your talent of drawing, so many feelings, it is overwhelming!

“Toshi?...” You call out, walking into the living room from the kitchen. You didn’t think he would fall asleep on the couch so went to check on him.

You went silent when you spotted your sketchbook in your boyfriend’s hands. What caught off guard was the fact that Toshinori was almost scared and shameful.

“I’m...sorry.” Toshinori whispers, his hand trembling a bit.

“It’s just...I know I shouldn’t have this but...but curiosity got the best of me I uhm...I like them very much…” He smiles softly at you, referring to the drawings.

You were quiet, progressing this scene. There's more he wants to say, and you want to speak so badly, but for some reason a force was forcing your lips shush for the moment.

Then he spoke once again, looking down at the drawings, “I'm just curious to know why you are drawing me when there's so much...you can draw other than me...like this flower shop, even this parakeet for that matter...you didn't have to fill up your precious sketchbook with...my uh puffy hair.” He states with uncertainty and self-insecurity.

Now without thinking you walked towards him, taking the book gently from his hands to place on the table as you place your gentle hands on his cheeks, cupping them, “Do not ever say that, because that is not true. I do draw everything I see that's beautiful and that also includes you dummy. I fill up my book with beautiful objects and people. The only person I see very beautiful and precious is you, Yagi. You make me happy and I just wanted to express it on paper. If I have to create a painting of your beautiful, adorable face on a big canvas I will.

Toshinori was left speechless and his words were all mixed up, not knowing how to even think of a response.

Would it be pitiness you express, or would it be a real, genuine statement you expressed?

You got closer to Toshinori, pressing your body against his, “You are very handsome, Toshinori Yagi. You lost all that self-confidence because you think of yourself as not, and now...now it’s a recorded soundtrack that is stuck on repeat…”

Toshinori couldn’t speak, the words he wanted to get out just couldn’t be heard. When you told him about his confidence, he couldn’t help but actually agree with you.

His silence was just adding onto the nonexistent tension, and you spoke again, “If I have to draw you in a bigger canvas to make my point loud and clear that you are my handsome man, then so be it I will do it. I will prove that my boyfriend, so strong and so sharp-and so fashionable might I add-is the most handsome guy I’ve ever dated in my life. You ruined the image of a man, because you left me obsessed with you.”

Toshinori felt your hands wrapped around his neck as you kissed him. He can’t help but believe you. You wouldn’t lie to him, you’re not the type of person.. However, they were right: he did believe himself to be not handsome, not even worthy of you. With the drawings she provided though, every sketch of his face, his hair, his body, she did not want to alternate anything, she saw who he was and drew what she saw. He even noticed the hearts drawn on the side, his favorite part of the whole drawings, the proof that she will always love him.

She started kissing his lips, his cheeks, tiptoeing to reach his forehead and he responded by tipping his head down, only to feel the warm lips pressed against his forehead.

“Thank you...thank you for such kindness.” He raised his head, smiling so warmly. You blushed softly as you hugged him, “I'm sorry for drawing you without consent, I promise to ask for you permission.”

Toshinori pulled away just the slightest, “There's no need to ask for permission. As the kids would say “You do you, boo”.”

You processed those words and even stifled a laugh, “The kids said that?”

Toshinori rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, “W-well, I do want to get closer to them, so I guess becoming a multilingual is my only option.” He chuckled softly.

You laughed, “ I swear, if you start saying ‘Yeet’ when you throw something, I'm going to start using the duct tape.” You teased and he laughed with you.

There was another drawing you would make after you two ate, Toshinori laughing.

[thrashton]

Soaring light (chapter 1)

thank you for your lovely comments and messages for the prologue!! here’s the first chapter!

Name: Soaring Light

Fandom: Skam france

Pairing: Lucas Lallemant/Eliott Demaury

Tags: assassin!au, falling in love, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Do not get attached, do not waste time, do not engage in any physical contact… The list of rules were long, but Lucas had never been the one to follow orders. In fact, he might have broken all of them in just a week, all because of the piercing blue eyes staring at him from the assignment in his hands, and the charming, mysterious boy they belonged to.

Chapter summary: Lucas tries to be very subtle as he online-stalks Eliott. It doesn’t go too well.

——--

(prologue can be found at the soaring-light tag at my blog, just click on the tag on this post. tumblr don't wanna show my post in the search tag if I put in links... and on ao3 with the username thetimeisnow)

CHAPTER ONE Why were storms a thing? Who invited storms? Lucas was going to find out and kick his ass. It was stupid, the rain covering his sight was stupid. The way he can’t see in front of the road he’s driving on was stupid.

The whole day was stupid.

Lucas had spent five hours trying find Eliott Demoury, but there was no one at his apartment, no one at his registered working place and no one at his two favorite coffee shops. He had googled his name and regretted it in a second, because dousins - no, hundreds - of model photos of the perfectly sculptured face and the piercing deep blue eyes stared back at him and Lucas had let his laptop fall close with a groan.

He can’t be attracted to his assignment to kill. Well, technically, he could. It wasn’t in the rules. The contract just said he wasn’t allowed any physical contact with his targets, mostly to hide all traces of DNA. And to make sure he didn’t get attached, which was another rule. Well fuck him, just the picture of this man got his knees weak.

Lucas hesitated a moment, then sent a text.

-

To: Manon D.

Change?

-

Change of contract, that meant. Manon would know that. In their work of line you had to keep yourself short and never, absolutely never, give out any information over the phone. Especially not their private phone. Lucas knew he’d most likely get his brains blown out if he said too much and he would never risk one of his closest friends and colleagues life as well. His phone buzzed. Manon, quick with a response as always.

-

From: Manon D.

No thanks, got my dream man ;)

-

To: Manon D.

Ugh. Fine. Drinks tonight?

-

From: Manon D.

That’s a yes, thanks. I’ll tell Mika and Emma. See you at 8?

-

To: Manon D.

Lol, sure. Bringing the boys if they’re up. See you, sunshine.

-

From: Manon D.

Dickhead.

-

Lucas rolled his eyes. His ever the lovely friend and colleague, Manon. They had worked in the same business for two years before they realised they were both carrying the same burden. They had been on the same funeral, a funeral for an older man whose two sons were the target of Manon, and his new wife was assigned to Lucas. He remembered it like it was yesterday as they stood gaping, staring at each other in the church when the priest did his thing.

A smile appeared on his lips at the memory. Back then, it had been the shock of his life but now it was a fun thing to remind him how small the world was. They were going to meet at their usual bar, and Lucas had actually seen a few pictures of the blue eyed God in just that bar when he googled his name, so maybe his luck would turn tonight. He could use that as an excuse to get pissed drunk.

Perfect. Just what he needed.

He parked his car exceptionally well considering the storm raging outside. It was only 6pm, but the sky was pitched black. He gave the car window a good, long stare before he forced himself to get the door open. The few meters from the car to the door of the building he lived in felt like a mile and his clothes was drenched in rain as he stumbled inside, muttering angrily to himself.

Stupid ass weather. He was going to kick its ass.

His older neighbour greeted him from the stairs and Lucas threw up his hand in a reply, he didn’t really feel like speaking until he was in comfortable, warm, dry clothes. And a beer in his hand. Maybe a joint between his lips. Ah. Perfect.

Pulling on his sweatpants like his life depended on it, he hurried towards his bed. Where the magic happens, as his best friend Yann dramatically put it when he visited Lucas new apartment for the first time. Well, where his hand happened. Or, another correction, where his hand was supposed to happen. But how no matter how much he tried, what type of porn he put on, he couldn’t get those stupid fucking blue eyes out of his head long enough to concentrate on jerking off, and there was no way he was going to pleasure himself thinking of his next assignment to kill.

Fucking hell.

Eliott really got the best of him. He needed to get rid of this guy fast, so he could get back to his normal routines, so his body could see some hot, big tits chick on his phone screen and think that’s hot! and not but it’s not him. How was this even possible? He hadn’t even met the guy!

In conclusion, his visit to the bed was unsuccessful. Lucas groaned loudly, burying his face in his pillow. He couldn’t wait to get drunk. A week from now Eliott would be dead and Lucas would be rich and he’d get the fuck out of Paris. He’d bring Yann, Basile and Arthur and they’d go to Amsterdam, or something. Find a nice penthouse apartment where they could throw the best parties in Netherlands, bring the best people and smoke a ridiculous amount of weed.

Lucas phone rang. He glanced over at the screen the name of his best friend staring back at him. Yann would know if he ignored him, that guy could read him like a book.

“Yep”, he answered as he put the phone to his ear.

“We going out tonight?”

“Uh-uh. Manon, Mika and Emma too.”

Yann went quiet for a moment. “Emma?”

“Dude. It was years ago, pull it together.” He gave out a light chuckle.

“Fine”, Yann sighed loudly, “only so you get get your lonely ass out there.”

Lucas laughed at him and got up to a sitting position on his bed. “Do you know a Eliott Demuary?” he asked. That wouldn’t hurt, Yann didn’t know he did for a living. Lucas wanted to tell him badly, but he wasn’t going to risk his best friend’s life only to have someone to talk murder with, that would be dumb. Yann wasn’t stupid though, and Lucas suspected he had a slight suspicion of what he did during his days; not that he’d ever tell him, or that Yann would ever get it confirmed.

“Of course”, Yann replied and Lucas almost choked on his own spit.

Okay. That wasn’t the answer he expected at all. It took a few moment for him to pull himself back together and hide the sudden excitement in his voice as he tried to sound as carefree as possible. “Aha”, he said and shrugged, “how’s that?”

“Why are you asking?” Yann was hesitating.

Fuck. Maybe he didn’t sound as carefree as he thought. “You know, just saw a picture of him.”

“Yeah, he went to our school…”

Lucas frowned. “What? No?”

He imagined Yann nodding from the other line. “Yeah, he did. Literature, I think, not sure. Don’t you remember, everyone was talking about him?”

Lucas did definitely not remember, because there was no way he could forget a face like that. “Are you for real?”

“Yeah!” Yann exclaimed, “are you? Ladies were fighting to get into his pants.”

“Shit.” How did he manage to miss this? Lucas shook his head, no, it didn’t matter. Now he had a way in to complete his assignment and he should be very happy for that since Eliott apparently didn’t want to be found. “Cool. Awesome. Nice. I mean, have you met him recently?”

Yann was silent for a moment. “Are you crushing on Demuary?”

Lucas gasped. “Excuse me? I am not!”

“I don’t blame you. He’s hot and- Oh, sorry, forgot you’re still hiding in the closet.”

Lucas pouted and wished Yann was standing in front of him so he could shove a middle finger up his face. Yann knew he was - or maybe was? He wasn’t really sure himself - gay. A little gay. Just a tiny little bit. Like, dick is nice and all and titties isn’t as nice. Which, in conclusion meant; a little gay. “Unfair”, he told him, “was just asking.”

He could hear Yann moving around. “Well, haven’t met him in a while but I’ve seen him in town a few times. Seriously Lu-Lu, you didn’t know he went to our school?”

“I didn’t, I swear! I wouldn’t forget a face like that. I mean, Yann, have you seen him?”

His best friend laughed. “Yeah, I have. How about you spend some time crying over a picture of Eliott and I come over with some beer?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great. I’ll be over in 45.”

Lucas ended the call without saying good bye. He had no time to waste when he only had 45 minutes to google some more information about this mysterious man, who apparently went to their school. Did that mean Eliott knew who he was? No, that would be impossible. If he hadn’t seen Eliott, Eliott hadn’t seen him.

He found an instagram account. With a stupid fucking riddle to solve. It took Lucas longer than he chose to admit to figure out the name of Eliott’s second account, but when he did; it was absolutely worth it. A majority of his posts were black and white art. It looked like doodles but there was real talent behind it.

Too bad he was going to kill the guy, he would really want to hear the stories about the numerous posts of raccoons. A short video caught his attention; Eliott in a black hoodie, staring into the camera with his lips pressed together and his hair in a soft mess on his head. He zoomed slowly until there was nothing else than his left eye covering the screen. Lucas found himself sighing, feeling like an absolute jerk about having to end this, clearly well liked and talented young man’s life.

Most of Lucas’ targets were old men. Rapists, embezzlement criminals or other scandals more often than not involving money. He’d never really felt bad about killing them, a lot of them deserved to die. Lucas never stayed to see if his job was finished after poisoning his targets; he learned early on that it was way easier to get caught that way. Instead, he showed up a few days later, or watched the news if his target was someone famous or well-known.

But Eliott. He couldn’t believe this man had done anything to deserve to die. 50k was a lot of money and the higher the prize, the worse the crime. That’s how it usually went, anyways.

And in that moment, trying to pause the video just when Eliott zoomed in on his eyes, Lucas fucked up. He liked the video. Panicking, he yelped, a high pitched noise he’d be embarrassed to even try to describe, and got up from his bed fast enough to make his vision blur. As a first reaction his brain thought of the brilliant idea to throw the phone away from him to keep him from making more mistakes, but then he realised that shit, he need to unlike the video before Eliott noticed. He stumbled after the phone, tripping over a shirt on the floor and hit his toe in the foot of the bed at the same time. Ignoring the pain radiating through his body, he reached over the bed in panic and clicked on the red heard so fast and intensely that he accidentally disliked and liked it again.

Lucas wanted to scream. With an surprisingly steady hand, he finally managed to to unlike the video and sank down on the floor with a loud groan of disappointment. Shit. What the hell. Being subtle wasn’t his best personality trait, obviously.

Eliott had a lot of followers, someone liking his video wouldn’t matter, right? That was, of course, if his theory that Eliott didn’t know who he was, was correct. Lucas considered blocking him but quickly threw that idea aside; the video was worth seeing a few more times.

The doorbell rang. Yann. Had it been 45 minutes already? Apparently it had, because Yann was standing with a big grin and beer in both hands as Lucas opened the door, still sweaty and his heart beating like crazy in his chest.

“You look like you just ran a marathon. Which I know you wouldn’t.”

“Fuck you”, Lucas smirked at him, giving him a helping hand with the beer. “I accidentally liked one of Eliott Demaury’s posts on instagram. It was stressful.”

Yann let out a snort. “When he sees it, he’ll show up with flowers and a ring and propose right here, I’m calling it.”

“I unliked it. And liked it again. And then unliked it again.”

“Even I am slightly embarrassed for you now”, Yann laughed, “let’s drink to forget about it.”

Lucas smirk grew, it sounded like a good plan. Little did he know, forget about  it was the least he would do that night.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Fifty Nine

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

May 15th, 2015

Patton was worried about him, that much was obvious. He felt bad about it, because he couldn’t exactly do anything to reassure his brother that he was okay. Virgil was too busy hyperventilating.

His breath was coming in and out funny, and his lips felt tingly, and all this happened because someone slammed a door nearby. He didn’t know why he was so freaked out, he just knew he was. Patton was awkwardly rubbing Virgil’s back, and Virgil appreciated the gesture even if the touch felt a little bit like fire.

When his breathing finally steadied, Patton was looking at him warily. “What just happened, Virge?”

Virgil looked at Patton helplessly. “Sorry, Pat...but...I don’t know.”

January 15th, 2021

Virgil was shaking, just a bit. Just enough for Patton to notice. And Virgil knew that even if Misses Pastor didn’t recognize when he was stressed, not all the time, she recognized when Patton sent Virgil glances. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. It was just a test that he was doing. It wasn’t life and death, it wouldn’t even determine anything super important in the long run beyond what math help he may or may not receive. Misses Pastor came over and murmured to Virgil, “Are you all right, Virgil?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Virgil said. It was a half-truth. He wasn’t in a full panic attack, not yet, but he was anxious.

“All right. You know that if you ever need to leave the class for a minute, all you have to do is ask,” Misses Pastor said.

Virgil nodded. Misses Pastor was definitely one of the good teachers. She taught the advanced math block in the morning, which he and Patton were both a part of, even though they had unfortunately been separated in their homeroom classes. They both wound up being in advanced classes with Logan and Roman’s tutoring and without worrying about whether or not they’d have the time to do homework. And Virgil had never been more grateful to have extra work, because it meant that he had Misses Pastor.

Turning back to his test, Virgil took another deep breath. This wasn’t life or death. He was scared, and that was okay. It wasn’t a bad thing, it was simply...there. A fact. He took another deep breath and looked at the math problem. They had gone over this, they had to find the area of a circle. He knew that he had to multiply the diameter by pi. And he had pi memorized. This was a problem he knew how to solve.

He did the math quickly and circled the correct answer. There. That wasn’t so bad! And he had plenty of time to finish the last two questions of the text. He continued measuring out his breathing when his anxiety started creeping up, but he was...managing it. On his own. Granted, he was taking some anti-anxiety medications, but he still sometimes got worked up with those medications in place. This was the first time he could ever recall being able to calm himself down from a panic attack before it started.

...Huh. Maybe all that therapy was useful after all. It was just a matter of finding the right person who explained everything the right way.

He worked through the rest of the test and handed it in, heading back to his desk and pulling out scrap paper to doodle on. He really enjoyed getting to draw. He doubted he could make a huge thing out of it, but it was a fun way to pass the time.

When the test was over, it was time for lunch, so Virgil and Patton went to their respective homerooms, grabbed their lunches, and headed to the cafeteria. Fortunately, they didn’t have to sit sorted by class for lunch, since they would be heading to recess afterwards. No one could get confused with which class they had to follow back. Virgil and Patton sat next to each other, just like every day. Patton pulled out a PB&J, and Virgil pulled out a turkey and swiss sandwich, just like every day. But unlike every day, Virgil was fairly relaxed, and wasn’t even shaking from everyone around them being so loud.

“You okay, Virge?” Patton asked.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better than I have in a long time. Why do you ask?”

“I noticed you were getting anxious about the test earlier, and I wanted to make sure that you weren’t bottling up your anxiety over it,” Patton said.

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, it’s one test, Pat. Sure, it’ll be a part of my final grade, but we’re only in the fourth grade. It’s not like I’m not going to get into college from missing one or two questions on a fourth grade math test.”

Patton blinked in surprise behind his glasses, and Virgil frowned. “You seem surprised,” he said.

“I am surprised!” Patton exclaimed. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you calmly explain why what caused you anxiety wasn’t a big deal.”

“Really?” Virgil asked.

Patton nodded.

“Oh.” Virgil took a bite of his sandwich and frowned, chewing food and thought alike. “Well, I’ve been trying to put stuff like that in context for weeks, if not months, you know? Miss Karen is a good therapist, and she’s been helping me go through these exercises that go through situations like that where I explain what would most likely happen, and what the most rational worst-case scenario would be, so even if it’s bad, I’m not...uh...catastrophizing? Yeah, catastrophizing.”

“And it worked?” Patton asked.

Virgil nodded. “It worked really well! I just did deep breaths and went over what I usually say in therapy, and just like that, I was calm again. Like, my anxiety would try and creep back up on me, but I was able to beat it back again and again when I needed to.”

“That’s great!” Patton said, but his voice sounded a little too cheery to be genuine.

Virgil frowned. “I thought you’d be happy for me?”

“I am happy for you!” Patton rushed to assure him. “It’s just...I’m a little worried and I can’t really explain why. I guess I just worry that...if you get better then you won’t need me as much anymore. And I like being there for you, and I like it when you’re there for me. I don’t want that to go away.”

“It won’t go away, Pat,” Virgil said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It just means I won’t have to lean on you as much and as frequently as I did before. I still need my baby brother, you’re my partner in crime, the yin to my yang, we’re a package deal! I won’t stop coming to you with stuff, because stuff will come up. But hopefully it will be less anxiety about tests and worrying that people are talking about me behind my back, and more...normal kid problems, like my favorite character in my favorite book being treated badly or being killed off, y’know?”

“Oh,” Patton said, seeming to mull this over. “That’s good, then? We’re still the dynamic-est dynamic duo that has ever duo-ed? You’ll just worry a little less about ‘little things’?”

“Exactly!” Virgil exclaimed. “That’s it! Less anxiety, same me!”

Patton grinned. “That’s amazing, then!”

“I know!” Virgil said, practically bouncing in his seat. “I can’t believe that it actually worked!”

“If anyone could make it work, it’s you, Virge!” Patton exclaimed, taking a victorious bite of his sandwich. “You have the determination to keep at it until it actually works for you! You don’t try something once and give up, you keep at it! And that’s a super good thing!”

Virgil blushed a little and ducked his head. “Pat, you’re playing me up again!” he griped.

“Well, yeah, because you should be played up! You’re the best!” Patton exclaimed.

Virgil huffed and took a bite of his sandwich, but he was smiling regardless. They chatted through the rest of lunch, and headed out to recess eagerly, ready to run around and burn off a little steam.

The best part about recess, though, had to be the fact that they shared recess with the second graders. Which meant that somewhere in the sea of gremlins, there was... “Dee! Lucy!” Patton shouted, waving at two kids by the monkey bars.

Patton and Virgil dashed over, Dee and Lucy were waiting for them with grins on their faces. “Hey!” Dee signed. “We’re learning to read clocks! The ones with the hands!”

“Oh, cool!” Patton exclaimed. “Virgil learned a really neat trick today, too!”

“Really?” Lucy asked. “What is it?”

“I learned to stop my panic attacks before they start, at least a little bit!” Virgil exclaimed. “I think the medication helps take the edge off, but I managed to handle the remaining stress by myself!”

Dee started jumping up and down and made the sign equivalent of applause over and over, before hugging Virgil tightly. Virgil was a little surprised when Dee stepped back, revealing tears in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you!” Dee signed. “That’s amazing!”

Virgil gave an awkward but happy smile. “Yeah, it’s really great. It’s going to come in handy a lot, I can already tell.”

Dee nodded enough to make him look like a bobblehead. “That’s amazing!” he repeated.

Virgil coughed. “Well, enough about me, you guys. What do you want to play today?”

“Ooh! Let’s play pirates!” Lucy exclaimed. “I want to sail the seven seas and destroy my enemies!”

Patton laughed. “I hope we’re not your enemies?” he asked.

“No! You’re my crew!” Lucy exclaimed. “And Dee is my first mate, if you want to be?”

“Yeah!” Dee signed, grinning wide. “That will be fun!”

They climbed onto the tallest structure on the playground, yelling and laughing as they fired pretend canons and did sword-fighting with imaginary swords. Patton was laughing his head off, and Virgil was grinning wide. Playing with the little kids shouldn’t be this fun, or at least, the others in his class didn’t think so. But the younger kids were the ones with the best imaginations, they came up with the best stories to act out! They were fighting a giant kraken today, and tomorrow they might be playing spies, trying to steal the crown jewels or save the world from aliens! It was the absolute best!

They played together until the second graders were called inside, and then Patton and Virgil hung out at the monkey bars, taking turns making their way across. “Are you going to tell Dad and Ami about the anxiety thing?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said without missing a beat. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you’re sometimes hesitant to share mental health stuff with them,” Patton pointed out.

“This is different, this is positive news. I don’t want to share negative news with them all the time because I don’t want to come across as a bother or something, you know?” Virgil said, holding one arm with his other one.

Patton was so shocked at that statement that he dropped off the monkey bars and slammed into the ground hard. “What do you mean, being a bother?!” Patton asked. “You could never be a bother! You need to tell them to make sure that you’re taking care of yourself! If there’s a lot of bad news, that just means that you need more help! That’s not something to be ashamed of, and it doesn’t make you a bother!”

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I guess,” he said. “I’m starting to realize that, but—”

Patton walked over to Virgil and gripped his shoulders tight. “No, Virgil, there’s no but’s about this,” he said, his eyes filled with pain and worry. “You’re completely worth it! You need to take care of yourself! You matter, so so much! And there’s nothing to be ashamed of for needing help to take care of yourself. That just means that you’re making doubly sure that you’re okay, and that’s a good thing. That’s a great thing. Don’t downplay it, or yourself, okay?”

Virgil stared at Patton in surprise. He had never seen this kind of intensity in Patton’s eyes before. He only saw glimpses when he...he swallowed. When he put himself down. And Patton was looking like Virgil might break at any moment. Patton was scared that Virgil would end up hurt, or worse, because of his anxiety. Oh. That would definitely explain why Patton had been so worried about him in the past. He was worried about losing Virgil. To better health or to...to worse health.

“Patton, I’m going to be okay,” Virgil assured. “You’re not going to lose me. We’re inseparable, no matter what. And no matter what, I won’t let that change. I can’t promise I won’t hurt, but I won’t let it get the better of me. Okay? Don’t worry about me. We’ll be okay.”

Patton swallowed and gave Virgil a nod. “Yeah, I know, Virge. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I know,” Virgil said, hugging Patton. “But maybe some of the stuff I’m learning could help you too.”

Patton laughed a little, and he relaxed. “Yeah, maybe. Teach me about it when we get home?”

“Of course,” Virgil said. “Anything for you.”