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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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“Harry’s stylist, right?”

Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)

Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)

part 2

“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”

Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.

Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.

Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.

Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.

The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.

The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.

“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.

She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.

While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.

She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.

“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”

She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.

“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”

“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”

She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.

“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”

She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.

“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”

She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.

He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.

She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.

One week later

“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.

When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.

“H?”

She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.

Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.

“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”

Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”

He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”

“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.

“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.

“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.

She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers. But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.

After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.

“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.

Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”

The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.

One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”

Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.

“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”

Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.

Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.

“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.

She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.

He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.

“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.

Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.

“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.

Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.

Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.

“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.

Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”

Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.

“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”

“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”

This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.

“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.

On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.

Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.

“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.

“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”

“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.

Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.

“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”

“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.

It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.

Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.

She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.

Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.

“Seriously, H?”

She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.

“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”

Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.

“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.

She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.

When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.

“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.

He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”

“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.

“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.

Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.

“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.

“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.

“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.

“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.

“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”

“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.

Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.

“I like it…”

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”

Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.

“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.

They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.

Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.

As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”

Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”

Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”

Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”

“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”

Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.

“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.

Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.

What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.

She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.

The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.

Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”

She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules. Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.

“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”

Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.

“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”

The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.

“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Just a little for my taste.”

“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.

Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.

Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”

Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.

He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.

“Y/N, right!?”

Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”

Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.

“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”

Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.

“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”

Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”

“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.

Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.

“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.

“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.

Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.

Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t!”

Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.

“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.

“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”

Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.

“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.

Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.

Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x

Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.

When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.

While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.

As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H

Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:

Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x

Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.

Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.

Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.

He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.

“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”

“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”

“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”

“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.

“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.

Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.

“And on the face?”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.

His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.

“Lipstick?”

She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.

“It was only from-”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.

“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”

She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”

He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.

“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”

His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.

She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.

She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.

“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.

“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.

Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”

“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.

When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”

She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.

“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”

Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”

She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”

He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”

“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.

As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”

“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”

“Yes!”

The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.

Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.

A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”

“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.

“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.

Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.

Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.

“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.

“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.

“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.

“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.

He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.

“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.

Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.

“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”

His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.

When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.

Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.

The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.

As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.

When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.

What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.

None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.

Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

- All from Jeff.

She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.

part 2

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ryoskuna · 3 years

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⭑ shaken, not stirred. | bartender!sukuna au.

notes: this thought of bartender!sukuna has been in my head for weeks, but it’s when my mom was giving me a lecture while i was thinking of sketching him as bartender that solidified the fact. this may become a series thing, and you’re also welcomed to ask questions about this au (please do, it is one of my new favorite things). also i have no idea what reader will be in this au-verse, but i’m thinking a law student (am i self-projecting... perhaps), but i’m open to y’all’s suggestions and can do headcanons for whatever kind of reader y’all want to see. additionally, did i screenshot that picture for the banner from episode 14 bc i thought he looked extra good?? yeah... i did.

warnings: like... mild nsfw via music suggestions, mentions of drink tampering but not from sukuna

bonus: there’s a playlist that goes with this, here.

taglist: @lethargicyashi, @night-rook, @izuniias, @skys-luce-stellare, @skys-luce-stellare

there’s something about 6′4 sukuna shaking a cocktail shaker to toxic by britney spears that just.... chef’s kiss. no i will not elaborate, just think about it.

sometimes, you think he’s taller than 6′4, but that’s just his platform doc martens.

god, the man chewing on a thin stirring/cocktail straw or just holding it in his jaw, in between his teeth and watch his lips purse around it. he’ll take it out to talk, of course.

the waist apron he wears only emphasizes his shoulder-to-hip ratio

the best seat in the house is literally anywhere you can see him??? like behind him, you can see his back muscles flex, but in the front, you can see his tattoos on his chest peeking out from the fact that he is not going to ever button the top two buttons on his shirt. also, he leaves his sleeves pushed up to his elbows on most nights

tongue piercing, check. both of his ears are pierced, but he tends to change up whether he has just one in or both.

you find out about the tongue piercing when he does his taste-testing of the drinks he mixes, via the straw drop (take a black plastic straw, dips the straw into the glass, covers the unsubmerged straw end with his index finger to create suction, lifts the straw to his lips, releases his index finger, and "tastes" the cocktail). usually he’ll put the straw in his mouth, but if he notices you’re watching, well, there goes the tongue piercing.

he wears rings, constantly. at least two, one on each hand.

he is a megan the stallion fan (and nicki minaj too, but i digress) and knows most of the words to her songs. his personal favorite is crybaby, and you being his s/o, well, he’ll sing it word for word to you while making drinks at home. he leans in and whispers the real intense/filthy parts like (”uh-uh, don’t fuck me like that fuck me like this”) yeah. he looks like he’s talking normal, but the way his voice drops more and he whispers??? goodbye world.

sometimes he likes to tease too much while he’s singing and will lean in to lick the shell of your ear or maybe nip your earlobe, who knows

and then he’ll pass your drink like nothing ever happened

also has doja cat on his playlist, but yuji is to blame for that

cherry knot tying king

casual friday for the staff at said bar/establishment, and he’s coming in jeans and a loose tank top, you know, the ones with the drops on the sleeves on the sides??

sukuna is extremely aware of what’s happening in the room at all times. some creep hitting on someone? intervene. someone trying to spike a drink?? he catches them in the act. someone spiked a drink???? he just looks at the recipient, tells them to switch with him, and before they can say anything, they have a new, safe drink while he has the tampered one.

does he grab offenders whether they’re being following creeps, coming on too strong, or trying to tamper with drinks by the scruff of their necks and carry them out personally? yes, yes he does. if you’re there, he’ll wink at you before he gives him a kick on the ass for good measure as he pushes them out the door.

he makes custom drinks for people, like he’ll ask what’s your preference in taste like sweet, strong or whatever, plus two other questions that seem unrelated but he’s managed to make the perfect drink for you

again, he’s highly aware of his surroundings, so if you’re looking at his back, he knows, and will look over his shoulder to smirk at you, looking you right in the eyes. (SHEESH)

thinking of him coming in on one of his days off with a ballcap and a tight, dry fit t-shirt on, so by the time he’s working, his hair is a lil messy, and you better thank heaven for that dry fit t-shirt because MUSCLES BABE

is working on his own lil drink recipe book, which means you either get to be his taste tester, or taste it when he kisses you

this man knows he’s hot, he’s a smug shit about it, and works it to his favor. does he tie cherry knots at work because the women at the bar go crazy and give him extra tips?? yes

but if you’re there, oh sweetheart, he’s actually going to give you the cherry before putting the knot in his mouth to tie, BYE

also.... hehe, had to mention this but uh... you could bounce a quarter off that ass of his

he comes home from a late/graveyard shift, and just crawls into bed, smelling like syrup and cologne, just... run your fingers through his hair and he’ll be out in a few minutes

occasionally, he will sleep on the couch as not to disturb you, but the man really is too big to be sleeping on a couch.

if his shift starts at 6, he comes in at 5, hair a little damp from the shower he just took, and in a clean dry fit shirt and tight slacks or dark colored jeans. he’ll either work in the dry fit shirt, or he has a button up he can change into in the back

also??? really decent and will help you get stains out of your clothes if it’s something he can swing to clean in the sink like a shirt

otherwise, he’ll write what you need on a napkin and pass it to you

fucking hates white claws with a passion, ngl

during particularly slow moments at work, you might be able to catch him plucking a few cords on the guitar that sits on stage or poking around with the piano (look, i think he’s very capable of playing instruments and his fingers are good for it)

painted nails!! they’re usually a dark purple or black, occasionally a dark red. sometimes they’re clear, but he’s gotten the idea from when he supposedly was in his emo phase (and learned to keep something on them from breaking from his younger brother’s friend nobara)

likes to dance with you to the songs on his playlist in his minimalistic kitchen in between cooking or making drinks

at least once a month, you can catch him in a necklace

during the winter months, tight turtlenecks or ribbed long sleeved shirts are his best friends

he also drives a very nice and sleek black car (i’d imagine it’s like a black audi TT or an audi R8) that sits in the back of the parking lot and has a habit of turning his keys on his index finger as he walks towards the building/into work.

bartending might have started as a part time job when he was in college, but it’s something he’s just kept up over the years

man fills up a lot of space and knows it, even when he’s leaning on his back countertop during breaks or on the bar to take orders with his arms folded over his chest

ANYWAYS. be nice to your local bartender because he can bite. take that as you will.

#this was so utterly self indulgent #enjoy the meal #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #bartender!sukuna au.#sukuna.#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen x reader #my writing.#rsff

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themonotonysyndrome · 4 years

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Emerald Onlooker

Part 2 of the Successors to the Future is here! I, uh, didn’t expect a lot of people liking it, but since I’m still pretty excited about this AU, I want to write as much as I can.

Thank you again @tri3tri for inspiring us with your Second Wive AU and many, many wonderful Yandere!Malleus content. A little summary about this AU: Yandere!Malleus married and took MC against her will. He turns her into a Queen and they had 2 daughters. However, Yandere!Malleus is pushed to take on a second wife (a Fae woman, Gekkon) to give him a son, a male heir. During the wedding ceremony, MC took the opportunity and escape to NRC with her daughters in tow and Crowley finally did them a solid and send the three of them to MC’s world.

Successors to the Future, summary: Without a court of condescending Faes and Malleus’ oppressive affection, MC and her daughters live happily in the other world. When she left Twisted Wonderland, MC didn’t realise that she was pregnant and thus, she gave birth to a son who grew up as carefree as a bird and just as kind. However, now that her eldest daughter had just turned sixteen and discover her Unique Magic, she was returned to Twisted Wonderland as a first-year student in Diasomnia. Since it’s only a matter of time before Malleus and his court discover her presence at NRC, MC and her children did their best to prepare her for that inevitable day.

This oneshot is a continuation of that.

FD/N = First daughter’s name/Renata Draconia (half-human, half dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s eldest child)

SD/N = Second daughter’s name/Sherrie or Cherry Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s middle child)

S/S = Son’s name/Lucien Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Prince and the heir to the throne. Malleus & MC’s youngest child).

MC/S = MC’s surname

Sherrie enjoy going about her daily lives on her lowest brain capacity most of the time. There’s nothing like just... switching off your brain and ignore all the boring things around you.

The only thing that gets the gears and cogs in her brain spinning is when she plays video games like Portal or coming up with schemes to get her eldest sister out of trouble.

When she jokes about only having 2 braincells and that both are constantly on holidays at the same time unless Renata did something stupid, Renata howl with laughter while Lucien just rolled his eyes at his cackling sisters.

But now that Renata is playing student in Night Raven College, Sherrie is surprised to find herself looking forward to not only help her oldest sister dodged their father’s steps, but also pulling the proverbial rug underneath the Thorn Kingdom.

Especially Lilia Vanrouge.

It’s addicting. The unholy glee running within you when your cute puppets finally realised who’s been tugging on their strings all along.

Humans are easy and oblivious enough for her to practise on. Despite how monotonous school can be, the environment was a good place for Sherrie to learn and play. Everyone has a chip on their shoulder; everyone wants to stand out among the rest.

So it’s really not that hard to learn who’s the right person to blackmail, who’s desperate enough to do anything to make their crush look at them and how to make the key figures dance on the palm of her hands.

This year’s prom night was certainly a memory she won’t ever forget.

And now? Now Sherrie can’t wait to play with the so-called ‘superior’ species - their father’s ancient court and loyal retainers - once she and her sister could establish contact.

They’ve been working hard on this little project. Everyone in her little family is. Renata is off being a good little student and let the gossips travel on its own, their little brother is doing his best to assured their mother that all would be well and Sherrie?

Sherrie is busy setting up the stage for the climax once Renata usher all the important players to where she wanted them.

(Mama likes to call her a ‘smart cookie’, always rubbed her head affectionately and said, “You’re a brilliant girl, Cherry. You’re just lazy. I know you can achive anything you want with the proper motivation, just like Floyd-senpai.”.)

(Their Mama can never know just how far her daughter had use the same skill that she praise to manipulate others.)

In the middle of the evening - just shy after midnight - Sherrie heard a water drip somewhere in her bedroom.

Drip... drip... drip...

She pushes her chair away from her gaming laptop, game paused and just listen. Her eyes scan the dimly lit bedroom.

Drip... drip...

“This better not be the start of a horror movie.”

It’s coming from... somewhere near her vanity table. Sherrie ignores the clutter of make-ups, perfumes and figurines on the table and waited eagerly. Her leg couldn’t stop bouncing when the surface ripple like water’s surface once.

The ripple clears and instead of staring at her reflection, her oldest sister stares right back at her.

“It works!” Renata said incredulously. “I can’t believe the headmaster’s half-assed runes actually works!”

“The fuck? What happened?” Sherrie reply, a bit taken back. Behind her sister, Sherrie could see a bed, study table and walls and other furnishing that eerily looks similar to the ones back at the castle.

Renata waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “I had to literally bullied a grown ass man to help me contact you. It took me a week of camping in the library to figured out how, but we managed to come up with runes that allow us to create a link to every mirror in the house.” She explains in an exasperated tone. “I’ll teach you the drawing tomorrow. All you guys need to do is just draw them on any mirror and it’ll send me a signal to find a mirror of my own.”

“That kinda sounds like a phone call. Like, an interdimensional phone call!”

“I know right! I already put a compact mirror in my purse so I can call you anytime!” Renata said with a smug grin. She’s clearly proud of her clever little trick. Even with the help of the headmaster.

Sherrie never doubted that her sister couldn’t find a way to contact them. She’s a prodigy when it comes to magic.

She might be young, but she could still remember how their tutors gave out praises as if they were candies when it comes to her older sister and her affinity for magic.

It’s just too bad that their compliments are worthless when they always ended with, “If only the Princess is a full born Fae...”

“Ok, so, contact established. Now are you still in Phase 1?” Sherrie said, bringing their conversation back to important matters. She made sure to properly and slowly explain their game plan a week before the Ebony Carriage took Renata to Night Raven College. The words are clearly written, highlighted colourfully and important steps are accompanied by cartoon stickers.

Despite being a prodigy at magic, her sister woefully has short attention span when it comes to playing the long game. Her attention spans burn hot and fast, just like her anger. It also burns out just as quick as it came.

Renata rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Yes, yes. I’m still in Phase 1. It’s hard to make friends when everyone is wary of you. Do you know they hung up portraits of past Dorm Leaders and their Vice Dorm Leaders in each dorm? It’s so annoying when everyone stares at me and at father’s portrait whenever I walk into Disomnia!”

Sherrie hums and made a quick dash to grab her tablet. The one where she wrote down her plans. She swipes the screen to the list of names that their mother had given them.

“They’re just NPCs, don’t worry about them. What you need to focus on are the students with the surnames that Mama gave us.” Here, Sherrie is tapping on the screen of her tablet to the mirror. “Have you met any of them or did you fucked up the plan already?”

“Calm your tits, I’ve been following your instructions.” Renata assured her, not the least riled up. “We’re only in the first semester; I only managed to match the names and faces of my dorm mates so far. It’s gonna take me at least a month of snooping around before I could find them.” Renata paused and her eyes suddenly lit up as if she just remembered something. “Oh, but I’ve been farming intel of the Thorn Kingdom using the Lucky Leanan spell every day after curfew. It took some trial and error but I successfully managed to find the castle again!”

Sherrie recalls that one of Renata spells - Lucky Leanan - creates a small fairy made out of pure magic that would do sneak attacks by shooting lightning bolts while Renata fights. It’s small enough to flit behind an opponent’s line of sight and take them off guard.

Small enough to sneak into the castle without anyone none the wiser.

So Sherrie nodded. “That’s a good move. You’re safely far away from the castle and you can remotely dispel Leanan if it gets dicey.”

“Yup! Look at my one braincell go!” Renata cheered. “If I keep this up and give it plenty of water and sunlight, maybe it’ll grow!”

Sherrie burst out laughing alongside her sister. Her joke took her off guard. Hopefully their laughter didn’t wake up their mother and Lucien.

Sherrie hiccups and wipe the tears from the corner of her eye. It feels nice to talk to her sister again.

She misses her disaster of sister already.

“Anyway, I need to hit the bed soon.” Renata said, breaking her train of thought. “I’ll do my best to gather as much info as I can about the ongoings inside the castle for you. Are there any heads up you want me to look for?”

Sherrie smiles brightly and reply, “Of course! If you could, be a dear and get everything about father’s... other wife. Everything - right down to the most boring shits.”

“On it.”

That first-year Diasomnia student has been the talk around campus for weeks now.

Not only is she the only girl in Night Raven College, word on the streets quickly spreads that she’s look too similar to one of the previous Dorm Leader of Diasomnia to not be related.

Staring at her while she’s busy taking a selfie of the Great Seven statues, he agrees that the similarities are too uncanny.

Now, why would he sends his own Princess to a villain school without any retainer?

That, and why under a different surname?

Something’s not right.

Renata MC/S brought with her an interesting mystery to Night Raven College. A mystery that caught his interest at the first whiff of her scent. And oh Great Seven, her delectable scent. The first time his nose caught that mouthwatering smell, it had his tail swishing in eager and his head spinning.

It’s the scent of his favourite flower - blood lily - with a hint of something... otherworldly. He still can’t quite put words into it.

He wants to unravel her. Understand what makes her tick.

Uncover what she’s hiding.

Four days later in History class, Professor Trein gave him - and Renata - their golden ticket.

“Kingscholar, MC/S - you two will be partners for this assignment. I expect you two have no objection.”

“It’s fine...”

“I don’t have a problem with the arrangement, professor.”

The professor nodded and class is dimiss. Students began making their way out of the room. Except for him... and her.

Renata steps in front of his desk when they finally have the class all to themselves. He takes a good, long look at her.

She’s certainly beautiful; a real heartbreaker. But there’s something interesting within her bright green eyes. Something volatile. He wonders what could it really be.

“Hi there. So you’re Bakari Kingscholar, hmm? Hope we can ace this assignment without any problem.” Renata said with a small smile. Is she trying to be friendly? Because it just looks condescending as hell.

But that just makes this a lot more fun.

“Same here. Girl or not, I won’t let it slide if you prove to be a dead weight.”

His warning clearly took her off guard with the how her smile froze. It was only for a moment though, before she let out a laugh. As if he just told a funny joke.

“Kitty-cat is flexing his claws, huh?” Renata had the audacity to grin. The other Savanaclaw students would’ve lowered their heads at his tone. “Don’t worry. Do your part and I promise I won’t light your tail on fire.”

Oh, his old man needs to know about this girl.

You have no idea how much fun it is to write about Malleus and MC’s children! Especially the Princessess. Unfortunately, they’re more like Malleus than they or MC even realise it. Anyway, my main reference for SD/N is none other than... TADA! Fyodor Dostoevsky from BSD!

It’s just that Sherrie is a lot more lazy and rather keep to herself and stay at home. She only goes out of her to way to mess with people because of Renata and her tendecies to get into trouble.

I’m still thinking on the draft for part 3 so we’ll see how that goes. Also, I was struggling wether to name Leona’s son or not. I think that honoured should go to @tri3tri!

#twisted wonderland #fanfic #twst mc #Draconia Family series #tri3tri #Second Wive AU #twst kids #drama is gonna kick off real soon #yandere!malleus

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

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acquainted | three

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: (2nd bts member to be revealed later on) x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut (to come)

words: 2.0k

warnings: hoe-ish thoughts / implied sexual content, cussing, mentions of death/car accident, your friends being extra like always

notes: flashback scene towards the last half of the chapter. start and end of flashback will be indicated!

tags: @laurynne5, @yiyi4657, @bluesharksandfish, @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

It was a cold morning, with the wind slowly picking up, bringing the clouds over from across the bay. You grabbed yourself a cup of coffee and sat on a table near the food cart on campus, finishing up your last items on your to-do list for work. You didn't wanna sit in the office for remainder of the day, and luckily, your job gave you that flexibility. You rubbed your hands together, hoping it could provide some relief to the cold taking over. You were too lazy to make your move at this point, and Mr. Kim's [or shall we say Jin since we aren't in a classroom right now] class wasn't too far away from where you were sitting. It'd be an easy, breezy walk.

Your brain felt foggy; even though you didn't have much left on your to-do list, you couldn't seem to focus and you knew why. Chance's death anniversary was coming up, and it was always something you dreaded. You wish you could skip the day and continue on with the week without having to revisit shit like this. Your friends are your biggest support systems, but they too, have their own lives to tend to. And as much as they tried to physically be there for you, sometimes it just didn't end up happening that way.

"Miss Y/N, are you doing alright?" You looked up to see Jin standing in front of you, a concerned expression plastered on his face while he held his cup of coffee.

"Oh yeah, sorry. Just spaced out trying to get things done for work."

"No need to apologize. I feel that, 100%." He chuckled. "Mind if I sit for a minute?" You shook your head and moved your things closer to you so he had some room for himself. "Glad to see you got home in one piece."

"Sure did." You smiled at him, tilting your head slightly to get a good look at his handsome ass face while he brings up his foot to rest on his knee. Honest question: is it ever too early for hoe thoughts to make an appearance?

Did I put on deodorant today?

"You work nearby?" He sipped on his coffee and glanced at you.

"Yeah, I work for a cloud-based software company as a project manager. Sometimes, I'll help chime in with graphic design projects too, if I'm not too swamped." He nodded.

"That's pretty amazing."

"What about you? I assume this isn't your only gig." He chuckled.

"You're right, it's not. I, uh-" He paused. "I'm a CFO for a tech company in the city." Your eyes widened. Handsome, and a fucking boss? You have got to be kidding me.

"W-wow. Holy shit." You quickly shook your head and shut your eyes in embarrassment. "Sorry, holy crap." You corrected your previous statement.

"Y/N, I don't care if you cuss." He laughed. "I'm a 30 year old man who still finds the need to slip it in between every other word when I'm not in class."

"Sorry, just— holy fuck. I wasn't really expecting that, but good on you!"

"What do I look like to you? Honest question."

"Oh, I mean. I just thought you worked in business or something like that. As someone important, but not that important. I-I mean—"You sighed and pursed your lips into a fine line. "You know what I mean, I hope."

"I think I do, don't worry." He smiled, feeling slightly amused with how cute you were acting.

"You must be really busy all the time."

"Mm, no actually. I do have quite a few meetings and deadlines to reach but other than that, it's not too bad." You rested your chin on the palm of your hand. "Are you from here?"

"I am, born and raised. Are you?" He shook his head and slightly pouted.

"I moved here a couple of years ago from Seattle when my fiancé Grace started to get serious about her cooking. She wanted to open her first restaurant here."

"Oh, that's neat. She's a chef?" Stupid question, but you weren't sure how else to keep the conversation going about his soon-to-be wifey.

"Yep. She's a wonder woman, for sure." He pauses to sip more of his coffee. "Do you have family members that live around here?"

"Yeah I do, my parents live about 30 minutes away from here. I go and visit them when I can. But sometimes, I get too occupied with work and school that I just long for time to myself. Being 25, you'd think I could handle more but I'm still learning how to balance my time, I guess." He nods. He's a little relieved to hear you aren't that far off in age, to be honest. He wasn't sure if he was being weird harmlessly getting to know his students. He genuinely wanted to build relationships with them so they didn't think he was a professor they couldn't turn to. However, when it came to you, he couldn't help but feel slightly captivated. He was impressed with the way you carried yourself, down to how you'd participate in class and how you didn't come off like a student who hated every fucking professor they came across in their academic career. He appreciated the tiny details. "Not gonna lie though, I do get a little homesick whenever I don't get to visit for awhile, even though they don't live far. Truly makes me appreciate having my friends around."

"Ryujin, Taehyung and Jimin? No siblings?" He asks. Impressive. He paid attention. Although, it's definitely not hard to figure out when you four were constantly [for the most part] stuck at the hip.

"Yup, those punks. I'm the only child so they've become family to me." You smiled hearing your friends' names. They honestly meant the world to you, and you weren't sure where you'd be without them.

"That's sweet. It's good to have people like that on your side of the court."

There was silence for a moment, with Jin looking at you over the rim of his cup, while you tried your hardest to keep yourself together. You felt the heat radiating throughout your body the longer you kept your gaze on him, the tension slightly building. You were a little relieved he didn't bounce the question back about your love life or anything regarding the matter. You almost feel guilty that you're digging pretty deeply into this situation yet again, but you felt comfortable with the way the conversation was going and the energy he was exuding.

"I, um--" You pause as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He keeps the same gaze on you, almost like he's trying to figure out what you'll say next by reading you and your body language. "I hope--"

"Y/N!" You hear Taehyung's deep ass voice yell for you from behind. "Oh fuck, sorry dude. Am I interrupting something?" To be quite frank, you were happy Taehyung interrupted when he did because you were just about to tell Jin how good he looked, respectfully, of course. You were going to keep it PG and comment on the tie he was wearing and how the pattern complimented him and the rest of his outfit.

"No, not at all." Jin chuckles. "We were just wrapping up, I have to get going." He stands and smiles at the both of you. "See you both in class soon."

"Peace out, Mr. Kim." Taehyung throws up the peace sign like a dumbass as you both watch him take his exit and walk towards his classroom.

"Peace out, Mr. Kim? Really, Tae?"

"I mean, he seems cool enough for me to do that, don't you think?" You shake your head and continue finishing up your work on your work laptop. "What was that about? Are you in trouble already? What'd you do?"

"Why do you have like, so much fucking energy right now?"

"I downed two redbulls before I got here."

"You're an idiot."

"Me and Jimin were up all night hunting."

"I stand corrected— you both are idiots." Taehyung clicks his tongue before raising his eyebrow, manspreading and leaning back into the chair.

"So, what was that really about?"

"We just had a chat!"

"Sure. You both were definitely eye-fucking each other. It was weird to walk into."

"Not everyone is like you, trying to fuck everything they see." You rolled your eyes. "He had just sat here for a minute and we talked about work and where we were from."

"Okay." He snorts and shrugs.

"You're being so dramatic. It was harmless."

"Definitely looked otherwise."

"You weren't even here for the majority of our conversation?"

"Didn't have to be, sweetheart." He winked, playfully caressing your chin. "Your secret is safe with me."

"You are so full of shit. I don't know how I've dealt with you for so long."

"Who's so full of shit?" Ryujin comes strolling along, with a tired Jimin who was sipping on an iced americano. He wore a cap and sunglasses with sweats and a fitted crewneck, looking like he just rolled the fuck out of bed.

"Taehyung, who else?" You both stood up to start slowly walking towards Mr. Kim's classroom. "Are you okay, Chim?" You asked, genuinely worried about him, but also trying to change the subject.

"Tired. Just tired." He shakes his head, lowering his the brim of his cap even more. "This dumbass kept messing up our hunt last night."

"I didn't mess anything up, you just weren't clear on the directions." Jimin smacked him upside the head. "And Y/N's just mad I caught her and Mr. Kim on a date." Ryujin gasped, while Jimin choked on his iced americano and coughed trying to get himself together.

"Excuse me, come again?" Ryujin squeezes your arm, causing you to slightly wince in pain before you can shake her off.

"Tae, really?" You rolled your eyes. "It wasn't a date! He just sat with me for a minute and we talked for a little bit. That's literally it."

"You forgot the part where you both were eye-fucking each other when I came along."

"What the fuck is even going on right now?" Jimin finally chimed in, making you sigh deeply.

"We were not!" You pushed Tae. "You're such an instigator."

"First, helping you with your groceries, now this? I didn't think you had it in you, girl! Actually pursuing an engaged professor." Ryujin joked, making herself laugh out loud. Jimin is now walking alongside of you, while Taehyung throws his arms around both you and Ryujin, swinging his big ass head back and forth between the both of you.

"He helped you with groceries last night? What?" Jimin is honestly so confused and is unable to keep up with the chaotic conversation.

"Look, I just ran into him at Trader Joes and he offered to bring my groceries to my car since it was getting late. And today, we just ended up talking for a little bit. That's it. Can we drop this?"

"Mr. Kim has the hots for Y/N!" Ryujin teased.

"That's it. I'm going to find new friends." You shrugged. "Unbelievable." Did they not listen to one word you just said?

"You should go for it and have fun." Taehyung winked.

"No, no. She shouldn't go for him or do anything." Jimin states loud and clear, making sure he grabs both Ryujin and Taehyung's attention by waving his hand in the air.

"Ah, come on Chim, it's just a little fun."

"Ry." Jimin says sternly.

"Okay, kidding." She rolls her eyes.

"This is getting so out of hand." You say as you all approached the door to Mr. Kim's classroom.

"Hey Mr. Kim." Ryujin waved her hand playfully, followed by Jimin and Taehyung who simply nodded and gave him a toothless smile. He happily returns her greeting, then flashes a small smirk as you pass him while arranging the papers on the front desk.

"Hmph." Ryujin smirks. "Told you so." You roll your eyes.

Chance's death anniversary arrives quicker than you'd like, causing you to pick yourself up and force yourself to get on with the day whether you like it or not. After work, you quickly visited his grave at the cemetery, balling your eyes out as you spend quite awhile sitting in silence, staring at his photo on the tombstone. Every memory, every good and bad moment that you shared with Chance flashed right before your eyes.

It was irreplaceable.

[ start flashback ]

"So, who would you want next to you if the end of the world was coming?" You kept your gaze on the 'List of questions to ask your significant other' photo on your phone.

"What kind of morbid question is that?" Chance laughed as he continued to hug you tightly while you laid on his chest. "You, of course."

"Aw, thanks bebe. Same here."

"Are there any happy questions in there?" He scrolled down the list. "Like this one - what's the cutest thing your partner has ever done for you?"

"When we had dinner on a boat and you sang to me and everyone else having dinner." You laughed.

"Yeah, that was pretty cute wasn't it?"

"Shut up." You playfully covered his mouth. "Your turn."

"The cutest thing you've done? I don't know sweetheart, you've done a ton of cute things. I'd have to say you waking up next to me. It reminds me how real you are." You smiled and pecked him on the lips.

"I love you, chance."

"I love you too." He says almost at a whisper while caressing your chin. He was pulled out of the moment when his phone rang. "Ayo." He says. You watch as his facial expression changes. "For fuck's sake man, alright. Hang tight, I'll be there. Yo, don't be stupid and drive home drunk. I'm about to leave, okay? Your ass better be there by the time I get there." He sighed as he hung up the phone.

"What's wrong?"

"Josh is drunk as hell. I'm gonna go pick him up before he does something stupid."

"Can't he find a ride there?"

"Everybody left him. I can't just leave him there."

"I know, but--"

"It's gonna be fine, okay baby? I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

"Alright." You sighed. "Be safe, please."

"I will."

[ end flashback ]

When you finally arrived at school, you checked out your appearance to make sure you looked decent enough to get through class. You were hoping your psychology classes would go by quickly, just so you could get out of there and feel less suffocated.

"I'm sorry I can't come over." Ryujin pulls you into a tight hug and caresses your back. She had planned to spend time with you, but her sister called her last minute to ask if she could babysit her niece until late night. "But let me know if you need me, okay? I don't care if it's 1AM, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Same. I'll do what I can to get out of this family thing." Jimin gives your arm a gentle squeeze. Jimin's family was visiting from Korea on a whim, so he had been pulled into some family festivities for the evening.

"Look, you guys. I'll be fine, okay? Don't worry about me. You know I love you both no matter what, do what you need to do."

"I'll text you when I'm on my way?" Taehyung is the only one who is able to spend time with you tonight, after he helps his younger brother with a project. You simply nodded before you split ways with your group and headed for the library. You were going to stick around and do some work at the library until Taehyung was free because there was no way you were going to go home alone, feeling the way you were feeling. You weren't going to get anything done, and you weren't going to have the energy to pull yourself together.

Today was heavy.

The library wasn't any better for you because your thoughts seemed to be louder in such a huge, quiet space. You were looking at the clock time and time again, hoping Taehyung would text you, letting you know he'd be on his way with tons of dessert and wine. Just cause that's what you wanted, right at this moment.

You sighed and cracked your neck from side to side, getting yourself into Steph Curry "Lock in" mode so you can push through your assignments that needed to get done. But, it just didn't happen that way. You were becoming frustrated and restless, so you quickly packed up your things and shoved them into your bag before walking out. The campus was lit with street lights, with barely any students walking around. It felt a little eery, but the walk to the lot wasn't too bad being that the garage was well-lit, with security guards on every level. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, causing you to try and reach for it even though you were hauling the rest of the books that didn't fit in your bag. Next thing you knew, you had your phone, but your books had fallen to the floor, the papers stuffed in them falling out and getting wet from the wet grass next to the concrete walkway.

"Fuck!" You groaned to yourself as you quickly glanced at Taehyung's 'be there in about 30 minutes or so' text and bent down to pick up your mess. You really had no reason to cry over this shit, but all of the pent up frustration and emotions you had been feeling today pushed you over the edge. You aggressively wiped your tears away as you stuffed your wet papers back into the books and stacked them on top of each other.

"Y/N?" You look up to see Jin, tears still falling from your eyes. "Are you alright?" He bends down to help you gather your books, towering over you as he gathers the majority of your things.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you." You slyly wiped your tears once more as you grabbed the books from him.

"Hey." He placed his hand out to prevent you from walking any further. You look up at him, watching as he dips his head down to examine your face, your eyes still wet and glossy from the tears. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Look, I'm fine and I don't wanna take time away--"

"You clearly aren't." His expression fills with worry. "And you aren't going to be taking time out of my evening." He finishes your statement for you. You sigh and close your eyes as your head dips lowly.

"It's just been a tough day, that's all."

"Let's talk about it." You look up at him as he nods for you to follow him to a bench near the parking garage. "Come on. I really won't forgive myself if I went home without trying to help." You silently follow him and place your things down before sitting. He sits next to you, with enough space placed between your position and his. "What's on your mind, Y/N?"

"Um." You pause and look at him. "On this day 3 years ago, I lost the love of my life to a car accident." You wiped your tears in between words. Jin's expression softened as he watched you break down in front of him, his heart breaking seeing you in pain like this. He wanted to do everything in his power to comfort you, hoping it would relieve some of the pain even though he knew it was something that would forever be embedded in you. But if he could provide any relief, then that would make him feel a little better.

[ start flashback ]

"It's been close to two hours, where the hell is he?" You said as you looked at your phone, sitting on the couch as you, Ryujin, Taehyung and Jimin watched a movie. Suddenly, breaking news flashed through the screen, cutting the movie to another commercial break earlier than expected.

"Breaking news - a white Lexus sports car and a Ford truck were involved in a head-on collision early this morning on Highway 101."

"O-oh my god." Ryujin says, as they look at the totaled cars. The Lexus was completely sandwiched at the median, while the truck was wrecked, but still stood in one piece off to the side.

"T-that's Chance's car." You said as you put your drink down on the coffee table to take a closer look at the car.

"Y/N, I'm sure Chance is fine and is on his way back." Taehyung chimed in from behind you.

"N-no." You stuttered, the feeling of despair in the pit of your stomach growing bigger by the minute. "N-no, I know his car."

"We might just be overthinking this." Jimin says, gently grabbing your wrist to pull you back down onto the couch, but you continued to stand.

"There was said to be one intoxicated passenger in the white Lexus, who is in critical condition and is being taken to the nearby trauma center. The driver of the truck was also intoxicated and injured, but is expected to survive. However, the driver of the white Lexus was pronounced dead at the scene." All of a sudden, you felt weak and dizzy because you just knew. You knew Chance wasn't okay, and you knew he wasn't on his way back to you. Soon after the news announcement, loud knocks came at the door. You looked back at your friends before making your way to the door, revealing two police officers standing before you. At this point, you felt like your entire life had been sucked out of you as you fell onto the floor, crying loudly while your friends tried their best to comfort you and speak to the officers for you. All you could remember hearing was the "i'm sorry's" from both police officers before everything turned into white noise. Everything felt numb.

[ end flashback ]

"I am so sorry, Y/N. I know my apologies are going to do much to ease the pain, but please know that I'm here for you whenever you need someone to talk to. I wanna do what I can to provide some relief." Is all Jin says as you continue to divulge about that night's details.

"You know," You looked up at the moon. "It's been 3 years, but it feels like it just happened yesterday. The pain always feels so fresh and it still feels so painful to think about it. It used to make me question why I was so deserving to continue living my life. I'm not an angel, I haven't been perfect. You know? Yet, someone who was so close to perfect, someone who was always so selfless and never hesitated to put others before himself was taken away from this world so easily? How did Josh survive, but Chance didn't? He was just going to help his friend out because he didn't want anything to happen to him, yet he ended up getting the short end of the stick. I was so mad." You shook your head. "I was so mad at Josh for awhile. I never understood and I still don't. I still don't fucking understand this." Your tears fell as you looked back at Jin.

"I can only imagine. There's things we'll never understand and quite frankly, it fucking sucks. But, I really don't want you to beat yourself up over this. I'm sure Chance wouldn't want you to, either. A lot of things happen for a reason, whether we like it or not, and it's hard to look at it in a different perspective. He's still with you, all the time. You're strong, and he knows this."

"I just don't know how I did this without him. It hurts so bad."

"I know, and it's okay to let yourself ride it out. Don't try and suppress the feelings just because you feel the need to act strong. If you don't let yourself process these feelings, it'll never get easier. It's okay to not be okay." He nods reassuringly. You smile at him toothlessly before sighing and getting yourself together. Although it had been quite the day, you felt a little relieved being able to talk to Jin about what's been going on. You felt a little more put together than you did earlier in the day and that's all that mattered. Baby steps.

"Is it okay if I give you a hug?" You asked shyly. You didn't know how else you could thank him for listening to you. You were sure he had tons of things on his plate, yet he still took time to sit with you out in the cold just to make sure you were okay. He chuckles and stands, his arms wide open, ready to envelope you. You wrap your arms around his torso, taking in his scent and breathing him in. He gently rubs your back before you pull away and smile up at him.

"I'll take a hug any day."

"I hope Grace won't be upset with you for coming home a little later than expected."

"She'll be fine. She's at the restaurant working late." His lips were pulled together in a fine line.

"Thank you again." You pull out your phone to check the time. 30 minutes from the last time Taehyung texted you was almost up, so you felt the need to get going sooner than later.

"It's not a problem." He puts his hand out, signaling for your phone. "Do me a favor and just let me when you get home, though? I'd feel better knowing you're safe and sound." You nod and hand him your phone. You knew you couldn't get wrapped up in whatever this was, no matter how flattered you were from the attention you were getting from him. He was still engaged, and he was still planning a life with Grace. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin that for someone genuine like Jin.

But God, was he making it difficult for you.

"I can do that."

"Thanks." He smiles toothlessly at you. "If you're ever in need of company or someone to talk to, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll be there in a heartbeat."

"Okay." You grabbed your things before walking away. Jin stood there, watching you walk deeper into the garage, feeling good about having been there at the right time. Something as simple as the hug you gave him had his thoughts running wild, just feeling your touch and your body against his. Albeit, it could be the lack of attention between him and Grace causing him to feel this way, but it was enticing all at the same time.

You were enticing.

And he could pick up on your little habits that made him want to know more. The way you'd look at him inside and outside of class. The way you always dressed so nicely when you had to take his class. The way you passed closely to the front desk, allowing him to take in your scent. The way you and your friends acted around him, knowing they were teasing you.

He knew, and he also knew what he was doing when he put his number in your phone.

He gets home and just as he mentions, Grace is still out at the restaurant working late. He kicks his shoes off to the side and heats up some leftovers to eat before retreating up to the master bedroom to call it a night early. As he's getting out of his clothes from today and heading into the shower, he notices his phone vibrating on the bathroom countertop, signaling a text.

[unknown number] 9:37pm: Hi, I'm safe and sound at home. :)

He smiles to himself before responding and heading into the shower.

[jin] 9:38pm: :) Goodnight Y/N, see you tomorrow.

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lakesandquarries · 3 years

Text

Baby Shoes - Chapter 5

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He’s been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn’t have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa’s newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey’s dad au.

title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books.

thank u to my friend gordon for beta reading even after i threatened to steal his blood <3 ilu bitch

AO3 Link

Bubby had forgotten about the tinfoil until he walks into Zeki’s office. She’s ripping it off her desk, a few hairs slipping from her careful bun, and Bubby has to hide his smile behind his hand.

“Did you have something to do with this?” she demands, throwing a ball of tinfoil on the floor.

“I’ve been with the subject all day. You can check the cameras, if you want.”

“I just might,” Zeki warns. She pulls another sheet off her chair and collapses into it. “So. Where are we moving you? The tube is all ready.”

“B-22,” Bubby says. “Near the break room. The L-shaped one.”

“The storage room?”

“It’s been years since it’s stored anything but dust.”

Zeki frowns, ripping the tinfoil off a pen. “You don’t need to do this, you know.”

“You offered, didn’t you? A real scientist is willing to try new things.”

She grits her teeth. “I’ll get it cleared with -”

“Aren’t you the department head?”

There’s a pause. Bubby doesn’t look away from Zeki, pale blue eyes staring into green.

“Fine,” she spits. “I’ll ask the cleaning crew to clear it out.”

Bubby smiles. “I’ll start packing my things.”

He turns on his heel, leaving Zeki to her paperwork and her tinfoil covered office.

Dekkard’s back in the breakroom, sat in the corner eating his doritos. “They are stale,” he informs Bubby as he sits down across from him.

“Zeki approved the room.”

Dekkard drops the bag. “She did?”

“Very begrudgingly, I might add. Though I think at least some of her frustration was due to the tinfoil covering every available surface.”

Dekkard beams at him. “Today has truly been a wonderful day.”

“I’ll miss you after she kills you.” Bubby reaches across the table, grabbing one of Dekkard’s doritos. They’re stale, and he doesn’t even like chips, but he hasn’t eaten since this morning. Dekkard nudges the bag closer to Bubby, and before he realizes it, the bag is empty. “Alright, well, I have other work to get back to.”

Dekkard frowns. “I think you mean you have lunch to get back to.”

“I don’t have time for that. I need-”

“To take a break.”

Bubby huffs. “I’m not going to let myself be lectured by someone half my age.”

“I’m not lecturing you! I’m just saying, you seem kinda stressed, and I was thinking of heading over to the cafeteria to get something more substantial. I thought maybe you’d wanna come with.”

“To the cafeteria? Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like there’s somewhere else we can get food,”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Come with me.” He doesn’t wait for Dekkard, standing up and leaving, though the sound of footsteps behind him means Dekkard must be following. “You know, cooking is a kind of science.”

“Is it?”

“I’d say so.” He leads Dekkard out of the Biological Research wing, down a flight of stairs. “And I think someone high up agreed with me, once.” The area they’re in was something, once, but now it’s abandoned. The lights burst years ago, the only illumination left coming from the level above.

“Did you bring me out here to kill me?” Dekkard asks, picking his way through the room.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. Here, this way.” It takes Bubby a moment to pry the door open, the hinges stiff from disuse. “I have no idea what this used to be, but. No one ever comes here.”

It was likely a lab of some sort - of course it was, that’s what Black Mesa does - but it was surprisingly easy to turn it into a kitchen. There’s a makeshift stove, no source of fire since Bubby can make that himself but just something to hold the flames. Scales and flasks serve as something like measuring cups, and he’s stolen various blades from around the facilities, along with any else he can get his hands on. It’s messy, but it’s serviceable.

“I try to keep it decently stocked here, but it can be tricky to find ingredients. But I’m sure you’ll find anything we can make down here leagues better than the garbage they serve in the cafeteria.”

“Did you make this?” Dekkard asks, poking at a burner. “Shit, maybe you really are the Ultimate Lifeform or whatever. This is - I’ll admit it, this is clever.”

“I’m glad someone recognizes my genius.” He crosses the room, over to the makeshift freezer and his stolen microwave. “Do not tell anyone about this, though. I will kill you.”

“Secret’s safe with me.”

“I don’t have the ingredients for anything too complicated. How do you feel about pasta? I’ve got some frozen pasta sauce I can heat up.”

Dekkard has made his way to the table. It was about to be thrown out when Bubby stole and repaired it all on his own. There’s only two chairs, but they at least are in good shape. “That sounds incredible.” He collapses into a chair, laying his head on the table. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten real food? Everything in the cafeteria tastes like cardboard.”

“I’m familiar,” Bubby says, getting out a pot. He lights the burner with a snap of his fingers, enjoying how Dekkard’s eyebrows raise up into his hairline.

He sits down across from Dekkard as he waits for the water to boil, drumming his fingers on the table. Dekkard keeps staring at the pot, then at Bubby.

“Is something wrong? You’re staring.”

“Have you really been here your whole life?” Dekkard asks. Bubby sighs.

“Yes.”

“You’ve never - I mean you’ve been outside, right?”

“Once or twice.”

“Sorry, that - that’s a rude question, huh?”

“A bit, yes.” The water sounds like it’s bubbling, so Bubby takes it as an excuse to get up. Dekkard remains seated. “Is there a reason you’re asking this?��

“Just thinking about - about Benrey.”

Bubby adds the pasta to the pot, stirring it. “Ah.”

“I’m not gonna try and say I get it, exactly, but I think I’ve got an idea of what’s going on here. And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, or anything, but -”

“I know what I’m doing, Dekkard.” He doesn’t have to turn to imagine the look on Dekkard’s face, one eyebrow raised and the other flat. “Yes, I’ll admit, I might be...attached. But I’m not an idiot, alright? I’ve heard all the stories.”

“Zeki tell you about Dr. Tipton?”

“She was trying to scare me. I’ve had my fair share of encounters with him. Whatever Benrey did, I’m sure he deserved it.”

Dekkard’s quiet for a moment. When Bubby turns, he’s staring at the pasta, hand resting on his chin.

“I can see the gears in your brain trying to work,” Bubby says, turning back.

“You think they’re like you.”

“They are like me.” He continues stirring, directing all his focus into the movements of his arm. “They didn’t even have a name. I can’t - I can do something, here. I can’t just sit by and ignore this when I can do something.”

No one ever did anything for him. He’d spent seventeen years in that god forsaken tube before anyone had even considered letting him out, and it was another twelve after that before he was allowed any scrap of freedom. Even now, his autonomy is challenged constantly, by scientists half his age with a fraction of his knowledge.

Benrey doesn’t even have the luxury of being a valued experiment. Based on what Zeki’s said, Benrey’s only kept around because nothing seems to kill them, and they’re interesting to study.

If Bubby can do something - anything - then he has to.

“Hey,” Dekkard says. “Uh. I think the pot is on fire.”

“Oh, motherfucker.” Bubby shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath, willing the flames to die down. “I was...distracted.”

“Can’t help but feel like that was my fault.”

“A little.”

“...sorry.”

It’s nothing unsalvageable, at least. The noodles are a bit too soft, but that’s fine.

He grabs the jar of sauce out of the freezer, heating it in his hands. He can feel Dekkard watching him as he scoops the noodles into bowls, pouring sauce over each serving. The air’s gone tense.

“Sorry,” Dekkard mumbles again as Bubby passes him a fork. He sighs.

“It’s fine. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Look, I might be underqualified, but I’m not stupid. I see how Zeki and all the other guys talk to you. I don’t wanna be like that.”

“I put this area together five years ago,” Bubby says, spinning his noodles around his fork. “You are the first person I’ve ever invited down here.”

“Is this your way of saying we’re friends?”

Bubby purses his lips. “I don’t think I’d go that far.”

Dekkard snorts. “Alright. Acquaintances.”

“Coworkers.”

“Oh, that’s harsh.”

“Shut up and eat your pasta.”

Dekkard does, for once, shut up. He eats like it’s the first meal he’s had in decades, like some kind of rabid animal, and then leans back against his chair.

“That was the best meal I’ve had since I started working here.”

“Well, if you behave, maybe there’ll be more in the future.”

“Can’t believe you’d stoop to bribes.”

It’s...nice, Bubby thinks. Sitting down here, eating and joking with someone. Maybe Dekkard was right when he called them friends.

Still won’t admit it out loud, though. He has some dignity left.

#hlvrai #bubby #bubby hlvrai #dr bubby #half life vr but the ai is self aware #cora writes #baby shoes au #i hope u all enjoy my favourite idiot <3 #adventures of cora

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onewfantaesy · 3 years

Note

Desk buddies au: does taemin have any annoying/weird habbit? Bouncing his leg for so long it's now heechul who begs Mrs. Kim to change seats?

Heechul could ignore the fact that Taemin was a bratty little shit. He could ignore that he was constantly turning around to whisper and giggle with Jongin, then jerking forward again when Jongin pushed him to warn him that Mrs. Kim was turning back around and they were about to get caught. He could ignore the constant doodling in the margins of his notes, and the way Taemin pursed his lips when he stared too long at the whiteboard, and the way Taemin chewed the end of his pen when he got distracted.

But the fucking leg jiggling was driving Heechul nuts.

“Taemin,” Heechul whispers, an exasperated sigh leaving his mouth. “Quit it.”

“Huh?”

Taemin turns to him, his pen balancing between his top lip and his nose, only to fall onto the desk with a clatter when he un-purses his lips.

“What?” Taemin asks, taking the pen to twirl between his fingers for the ten millionth time that morning.

It’s only Tuesday, but Heechul might just go insane before the end of the week.

“You’re bouncing your leg,” Heechul tells him.

And Taemin suddenly stops, his left hand going to rest on his knee, as if he has to physically hold his leg down to make it stop bouncing.

“No I’m not,” Taemin insists, a pout forming on his face.

“Oh my God,” Heechul groans under his breath, but Taemin is already back to looking at the whiteboard, his right foot tapping ever so slightly under the desk. Behind him, Heechul hears Jongin try to hide a laugh, along with their friend Moonkyu. This is going to be a long week.

When they get assigned a mini group project half an hour later, Heechul is about to pull his hair out. He’s still sitting next to Taemin, but their chairs are turned around to work with Moonkyu and Jongin, and Taemin is bouncing his legs again at full speed, all while his hands are waving around his head and he’s talking a mile a minute about what they should present to the class.

“Are you always this insufferable?” Heechul groans, holding his head up with a fist, his elbow bent on the desk.

Taemin completely stops moving, only to turn an annoyed face to Heechul as he asks, “What are you talking about? I’m a delight.”

“Your constant fidgeting is definitely not a delight.”

“I don’t fidget.”

“Yes you do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do - hey, stop - I’m not doing this,” Heechul stammers, holding up a finger. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taemin whines, looking genuinely frustrated.

Meanwhile, Jongin and Moonkyu are dying across from them, trying very hard not too laugh loud enough to get the attention of Mrs. Kim. Taemin only frowns at them too, and when they don’t stop after a full thirty seconds, Taemin finally moves to hit Jongin with his pen.

“So I tap my foot when I’m bored!” Taemin whines. “It’s not like I’m a booger flicker or something!”

It only makes Jongin and Moonkyu laugh harder, and Mrs. Kim finally comes over to check on them and see what all the ruckus is about.

“You gotta move me,” Heechul begs her. “He’s insufferable to sit next to.”

“I’m an amazing desk buddy! Kwonho never complains about me!”

Mrs. Kim look amused, especially at how soon the roles have reversed with the two of them wanting to sit next to each other, but she just crosses her arms and shrugs.

“This is the seating chart for the week,” she tells them both. “You’ll both just have to adjust.”

“But I miss Kwonho,” Taemin whines.

“You’ll survive another couple days without sitting next to him,” Mrs. Kim laughs, and she pats Taemin’s shoulder a couple times before moving on to the next group.

The next morning, Heechul is particularly distracted because he swears he knows the beat that Taemin is tapping out with his foot, but he can’t quite place it. It’s so familiar, so annoying because now Taemin’s entire right leg is jiggling, but it’s more annoying because he can’t figure out the little tune Taemin is even humming under his breath. After twenty minutes of wracking his brain and getting increasingly more frustrated, Heechul finally snaps.

“What song is that?” he asks, letting his head fall into his arm and staring at Taemin, his cheek pressed against the fabric of the ugly uniform he’s being forced to wear.

“What?” Taemin asks, his leg stopping as he turns to look at Heechul.

“What song,” Heechul asks slowly, “is stuck in your head?”

Taemin gives him a freaked out look, like he’s completely baffled as to how anyone knew he had a song stuck in his head, but he finally just shrugs.

“Keep Your Head Down,” he tells Heechul. “Heard Yunho and Changmin practicing this morning.”

“What?” Heechul scoffs. “What does that mean?”

“What?” Taemin whines back. “I didn’t overhear on purpose! Their music is way too loud when they practice their choreo.”

“Were you practicing this morning?” Heechul asks, his entire face falling into an expression of shock, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping open.

“Mmhmm,” Taemin nods. “Every morning at four until I have’ta leave for school.”

“You’re insane,” Heechul tells him. “Are you even human?”

“Ha-ha,” Taemin sends him a sarcastic laugh, now looking upset. “It’s not funny.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Heechul mumbles.

“Taemin,” Mrs. Kim calls, and Taemin snaps his head to the front of the class. “Less chit-chat, please.”

“Sorry,” Taemin mumbles, and he goes back to jiggling his leg and twirling his pen incessantly.

A couple minutes later, Jongin leans forward and whispers to Heechul, “If he doesn’t keep moving, he falls asleep.”

Heechul’s mouth stays open for a moment, and it all clicks in his head. The kid’s just overtired. Probably a little overstimulated too, especially with all the cameras and extra lights.

“You probably have too much on your mind,” Heechul tells him during the break. “You should try meditating.”

Taemin just makes a face at him and scoffs, “Okay, old man.”

Heechul puts him in a headlock for no less than two full minutes.

#taemin #shinee #heechul #kai #desk buddies au #hello anon

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harlot-of-oblivion · 4 years

Text

The Heart of the Camellia(Part 7)

The big days is getting closer and you are making good time with the flowers, all thanks to a very helpful devil known as Vergil Sparda. You decide to bring him a thank you gift, which results in a invitation to dinner with the rest of the crew.

And here it is! Sorry for the delay...this holiday season is kicking my butt.😤 I'll do my best to finish this part before the year is out, but it may not happen since I’m planning another fic to be a nice ‘n’ spicy holiday treat😏

Anyway! Without further ado, the first half of Part 7! And here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part. 🌸💖🌸

Chapter 1: Family of Flowers

For the past few weeks, you have been working nonstop, arranging all the final details and flowers for the Sparda wedding. You did not have the time to take a day off until now, and you are not enjoying it in the garden for once. Instead, you are bustling around your kitchen, preheating the oven before sprinkling flour all over the counter and turning out a ball of red velvet dough onto its surface.

You always thought that if you were not a gardener and florist extraordinaire, you would probably be a pastry chef. There is just something about baking sweet treats that brings you the same exact joy as tending to the flowers in your garden. And sometimes, you can have the best of both professions: decorative treats depicting beautiful blooms or even having actual flowers in the treat itself! That is exactly what you plan to do to the dough you are currently rolling out, spreading a layer of cinnamon and brown sugar over it before rolling it up jelly-roll style.

It’s not blueberry or apple, but I hope he likes it all the same, you thought nervously as you grab a knife and begin slicing the log of dough.

Vergil has visited your garden every single day since that demon attack near your home. You always welcome him with open arms and a warm smile despite being really busy, and he always adamantly offers his assistance with whatever you are working on that day. Those times you taught him a thing or two become your saving grace, lessening the burden and stress of getting this done on such short notice. It does make you feel a bit guilty though for needing help, and you have tried to let him know that he should not feel obligated to aid you. But he just gives you what you refer to as his “motivational smolder” and tells you that his assistance only seems fair since he is the one that suggested your shop.

The power of Sparda now includes the talent for arranging flowers! You giggle softly as you place the red velvet dough slices onto a greased pan, making sure they are not too close to each other before covering them with a kitchen towel. They need a little time to rise before baking, so you wash your hands and remove your apron before heading out into the garden. Might as well make a flower crown while I wait! You meander idly among the flowers, scanning the multitude of colorful blooms as you figure out which lucky flowers will be in your crown.

You take a quick look at the cluster of wisteria creeping through the quaint archway of your outdoor workshop. Its hanging blooms sway softly in the light wind of the afternoon as you think about its meaning: the welcoming flower of enduring love. The small blossoms would do well as the base of the flower crown. You reach for the traditional purple blooms, but your hand pauses when you spot a cluster of pink wisteria. A soft smile curls on your lips as you pick a couple of those vines instead since its meaning perfectly matches your own most recent feelings of blossoming love.

It only takes a few more steps through the garden until you find the other lucky flowers to grace your crown. A couple of butterflies are fluttering around your asters, the talisman of love and patience. While the butterflies enjoy their sweet nectar, you ponder which color would look best with pink wisteria. Let’s see: white, red, pink, purple, blue…aha! A group of lavender asters catch your eye and you enthusiastically pick a big bunch of the starry blooms.

You make your way back to the house and head for your office, grabbing the necessary supplies needed before sitting down at your desk. Your mind begins to wander as you measure a couple of pieces of florist wire around your head, replaying all the moments Vergil made you laugh and blush while helping you. You remember the time he had to take off his signature coat, and he caught you staring at his impressive arms. That cocky smirk of his never fails to make your heart tremble. There was also the time he got his hair wet, his grumpy face reminding you a cat getting caught in a rainstorm. His silver blue eyes flashed in irritation and he scowled when you could not hold your laughter any longer.

Your trip down memory lane ends when you wrap the final piece of floral tape around an aster. There! You hold it out for inspection, making sure that all the blooms are in tip top shape before going to the mirror down the hall. Your hair is already styled into a loose fishtail braid, so all you need is a couple of bobby pins to keep it in place. Luckily, you always carry some in your dress pocket, and it only takes a few careful moments of pining before the flower crown adorns your head. You do a little spin in the mirror, making sure the pink floral pattern of your dress matches the crown as it softly flares out.

You have never looked more ravishing than you do at this moment.

Vergil’s words come to the forefront of your mind, sending pleasant tingles all through your body. You bounce around like a bumblebee in front of the mirror while giggling and clapping your hands in excitement. As you head back to the kitchen, you recall how happy those words made you that day when they were uttered from your handsome devil. Honestly, you are still slightly shocked that he accepted your dandelions. And when he presented a cabbage rose and put it in your hair...your cheeks still turn pink just thinking about it!

When you to get to the kitchen, you make sure that the red velvet slices have risen enough before sliding them into the preheated oven. While they bake to perfection you get started on another craft project: putting together a decorative pastry box. You reach into the cupboard where some are stored and take out a light pink one with an elegant white swirl pattern. A bright idea suddenly pops into your head as you put the box together and you quickly go back to your office for a felt tip pen.

You meticulously write in perfect cursive Things that fall on the inside of the lid, making sure it is written in the perfect position so it can be read correctly when opened. Next, you write some things that fall inside the bottom of the box, purposefully putting the most important thing in the middle. Lastly, you measure out a square of translucent parchment paper and place it inside the box.

The timer goes off on your stove and you promptly put on an ovenmitt before taking out the pan. Your keen eyes check to see if the red velvet cinnamon rolls are done before setting them to the side. While they cool off a bit, you swiftly whip up some white icing and drizzle it over the warm rolls. The sugary glaze melts beautifully and drips off the side of the rolls, making you lick your lips as you begin to crave the baked treat.

No, no, no…these aren’t for me, you silently chide yourself as you open a nearby drawer to grab a spatula and diligently lift the rolls from the pan, placing them carefully into the prepared pastry box. You are just about to close the box when you think of a last-minute detail for the rolls, instantly rushing out your back door and straight to the rose section of your garden. While you are browsing and smelling the roses, you check on the special ones you are secretly growing for Vergil. Their blue buds have begun to bloom, but they are not quite ready for presenting yet.

Your lips curve into a fond smile as you remember the day you first met your prickly devil, frantically planting blue roses in the rain as soon as you arrived home. You always pictured the rose among his briars to be blue, extraordinarily wonderful and unique as well as notoriously unattainable. But you meant what you said to Vergil in the book café…that despite impossible odds you will never back down as you gently pry apart the thorns in search of such splendor.

Ah! This is no time to dilly-dally! You shake your head and redouble your efforts to concentrate on the task at hand. After a couple more minutes of browsing you pick a small bunch of sweetbriar roses and hurry back to the kitchen, grabbing a handful of forget-me-nots on the way for flower shower purposes. You rinse the sweetbriar roses in the sink, dry them with a paper towel, and garnish the rolls with their bright pink blooms. And when you are done decorating, your red velvet cinnamon rolls look more like a delicious bouquet of red roses.

Perfect!

A rush of excitement bursts through your body as you close the pastry box and seal it shut with a floral sticker. You also grab a small box full of homemade strawberry donuts you made earlier and place it on top of the pastry box. They are for Dante since he occasionally came over to help as well, usually doing the regular deliveries around the city for you. It also ensures that he does not try to steal one of Vergil’s treats. There is one thing you have found out while hanging out with both Sons of Sparda: they bicker and fight constantly like normal siblings. Well, almost normal if you count summoning swords as an everyday occurrence during arguments.

You grab your purse, carry the boxes down the hall, and head out the front door. The weather is clear and sunny as you walk happily down the street towards Vergil’s home and place of employment. You are not sure if he will be there or if he will even be happy to see you after dropping by unannounced, but considering how many times he has startled you with his sudden presence in your garden…it only seems fair that you pop by and surprise him your sweet rosy treats.

Hopefully, he won’t be too annoyed with me once he sees these edible blooms! you thought with a giggle, already seeing the grumpy lines on Vergil’s face easing into softer expression. This is the only thing you could think of to properly thank him for all the help with the flowers…and for always being there to protect you. It did not escape your notice that he is always ever vigilant, his keen eyes watching for any sign of danger while he helped you with the flowers. And he would always urge you to go back inside your house as soon as night fell when he could not stay late, making you promise him that you would not do any late-night harvesting. And you always smile and oblige him because you know that is his own way of showing that he really cares for you too.

It does not take long for you to walk the short distance from your house to the shop. You pause at the foot of the steps and look up the building, noting the stylish neon sign reading Devil May Cry above the double doors. Well, here goes nothing! You enthusiastically hop up the steps and knock on the door…but nobody answers. Hmm, they must not be home. Your cheerful demeanor deflates a little, but you are not willing to give up yet. You knock again and there is still no answer. You glance down at the handle and decide to turn it, even though you guess it is probably locked.

But to your surprise, the handle turns without much effort and the door cracks open. You peek your head through the door and take a look inside the shop. The lights are on, but it is very quiet. Your eyes make out a couch, a desk, and a jukebox. “Hello?” you call out, hearing your voice echo throughout the room. “Is anyone here?” You wait a moment for a reply before opening the door wider and passing through the threshold of the shop.

The door closes behind you and your eyes scan around what looks to be an office of sorts. You are now able to see a small bar in one corner of the room and a staircase to your left beside the desk. Your nose twitches as you detect the faint odor of something moldy underneath the musty smell of dust. This must be Dante’s space, you conclude, there is no way Vergil would be this messy! You walk over to the desk and put the pastry boxes down gently on it, pushing aside a couple of swimsuit magazines to make some room along with your purse.

An ornate picture frame sitting in one corner of the desk catches your eye. You get curious about whose portrait is in the frame, so you go around the desk to get a better look. A beautiful woman with golden blond hair wrapped in a crimson red shawl stands alone in the picture, green eyes sparkling as a tender smile graces her lips. Oh wow…this must be their mother. You remember Vergil describing her to you once, emphasizing the way she gently nurtured him and his brother with kindness. Your heart breaks when you recall the sadness that is always in his eyes when he talks about her...both of her boys must miss her a lot.

You can sympathize with them a little, mourning the loss of your own mother...even though you are not certain if she is even passed away. Your head tilts as you remember the burgundy roses Dante always asks for when he visits. The last small bouquet must have wilted since they are nowhere to be seen on the desk. Why didn’t I think to bring more? you silently berate yourself, but quickly come up with an alternative. You reach into your dress pocket, take out a few forget-me-nots, and place them in front of the portrait of Eva Sparda.

There. Gone but not forgotten.

You call out a couple more times just to make sure that there really is no one home. When only silence answers, you decide to at least put your baked treats in their kitchen. “They must have one…right?” you mutter quietly to yourself as you look around. There is a beat-up fridge next to the jukebox, but you do spot a side room by the bar and go check to see if it leads to a real kitchen.

And it turns out that it does…but this poor kitchen has seen better days. The trashcan is overflowing as well as surrounded by multiple bags of what is assuredly more trash. There are an assortment of dirty dishes, tools, and knick-knacks on the countertops and the sink is full of even more dishes…even though there is a dishwasher right next to it. Just the very sight of all this filth and clutter in the kitchen makes your skin crawl. You slowly back away like an animal sensing a nearby predator and take a deep breath.

Oh no no no…this will not do.

The sudden urge to clean overwhelms you as your fists clench tight and you stick your chin out in determination. You march back into the gross kitchen and start opening up cabinets, figuring out where they keep their cleaning supplies. Your very thorough search results in a roll of paper towels, cleaning spray, and a half empty box of trash bags. The dishwasher happens to be empty, so you load it up with the dirty dishes from the sink before moving onto the absolute mountain of trash. One by one you take each bag out to the outdoor trashcan next to the stoop of the shop until it is completely full, leaving only one bag left to sit beside the can.

The next place you hit during your cleaning frenzy is the kitchen countertops. You put all the dirty dishes in the sink, collect the tools and knick-knacks into one pile, and throw away all trash into the now empty trashcan. There are a few stains on the counters, so you spritz the surface with the cleaning spray and wipe them down with paper towels. You swipe the light sweat you worked up off your brow, knocking your flower crown askew as you check your progress.

The countertops are spotless, the dishwasher is almost done cleaning the first load of dishes, and the floor is completely clear of all trash. It can be cleaner…but this will have to do for now. You nod your head in approval while you cross your arms and smirk in victory. You go back to the desk, pick up the pastry boxes, and take them back to the now neat and tidy kitchen. As you place them on the clean counter you notice a stain you missed during your cleaning tirade. Your eyes squint in annoyance as you reach for the cleaning spray and wipe the pesky stain away before deeming this kitchen officially spick and span.

“Wow! I can’t believe Dante actually hired someone to clean his mess!”

A feminine voice knocks you out of your cleaning stupor and you turn towards the door. A woman with short dark hair is standing in the entrance as she stares at you curiously. You notice that one of her eyes is red while the other bluish green. Her attire confuses you slightly, a mix of casual and military with the silky white blouse and black leather leggings covering her legs.

“Oh! Uh…I’m not…well, you see…”

As you struggle a little to explain your spontaneous cleaning session, another woman steps up next to the dark-haired lady. Your eyes widen as you try to hold back a shocked gasp. Her face is the spitting image of Vergil’s mother, but instead of a red shawl she is wearing black leather pants and a revealing corset that shows off her midriff. She also does not exude the warmth of the woman in the portrait as she eyes you suspiciously. You clear your throat and try to explain yourself again when another woman in a white summer dress peeks through the other two, her auburn locks and sunny smile instantly recognizable as she waves at you.

“Hey!” Kyrie beams as she gently pushes past the two women and pulls you into her welcoming embrace. “It’s great to see you again!” You return the hug with a grateful grin before she stands next to you and loops her hand around your arm. “Lady, Trish…this is Y/N!” she introduces you with a bright smile. “The florist who saved my big day!”

Both women glance at each other as their expressions lighten up with realization. “Oh! You’re the flower friend I keep hearing about!” The dark short haired woman, who you believe is Lady, leans casually against the doorframe. “Nice to meet you!” she exclaims with a playfully wave.

“Hey,” the other woman, who must be Trish, addresses you with a slight nod of her head.

Before you can even respond, Nero peeks over Lady’s shoulder. He scans the clean kitchen and blinks his eyes in disbelief. “Are we even in the right place?”

Nico pokes her head around Trish’s arm and takes a gander as well. “Yeah, where’d all the trash go?”

All their expectant eyes are suddenly upon you and you could not help to feel a little self-conscious as you shrug your shoulders. “I uh…can’t stand a messy kitchen?” you feebly explain with a toothy grin.

“So, you broke into my shop just to clean my kitchen, huh?”

A very amused Dante makes his way through the small crowd that has amassed around the doorway. “Aloe there!” he exclaims with a cheeky grin and a wink. You roll your eyes as he strokes his stubbly chin and walks into his now immaculate kitchen. His usual unkempt hair is pulled up into a ponytail and, for some reason, he is not wearing his very expensive red leather coat or his grubby gray shirt.

“What’s up, succa?” you reply back with your own grin before playfully glaring at him, not even fazed by his shirtless appearance. Dante leans casually against the counter as you launch into a perfectly rational explanation of your actions. “Okay, first of all, I did not break in…the door was unlocked.”

“Really, Dante? How foolish.”

Your body shivers the moment you hear the familiar snarky voice of Vergil. He pushes past the crowd around the kitchen doorway and your eyes widen as you notice that he is not wearing his usual vest and coat. Whoa…the power of Sparda must include all the muscles. Kyrie gently squeeze your arm, which blessedly reminds you that this is not the time to be caught ogling his bare chest. You hope no one becomes aware of your flushed state, but a sharp glint in Vergil’s fierce gaze tells you that he definitely notices the all too familiar blush on your cheeks.

Dante answers his brother criticism nonchalantly, either totally oblivious of your flustered state or showing mercy by pretending that nothing is amiss. “Huh, guess I forgot to lock the door…my bad!”

You try very hard not to stutter as you continue with your tangent. “Second of all, I can’t stand a messy kitchen. And third of all…I needed the room!”

Trish chuckles and nods. “She’s got ya there, Dante.”

“Yeah!” Lady agrees as she steps into the kitchen and pokes Dante’s accusingly on the arm. “Except it should be you cleaning your own damn mess!”

But Dante is too busy fixated on the last point you made. “Making room?” He quirks an eyebrow as his eyes light up in anticipation. “For what?”

“I made you both some treats!” You give both the brothers a big grin as they both look down at the counter. Vergil furrows his brow as he eyes the pastry boxes with curious interest while Dante is already gunning for the biggest box. “Hey!” you snap as you lightly slap his hand away. “No! That one is Vergil’s.” You pick up and hold out the smaller box towards him. “This one is yours.”

A round of snickers resounds in the kitchen while Dante shakes his hand, even though you are pretty sure that he is exaggerating his injury. “Aww c’mon, Buttercup!” he pouts. “How come frowny flower over there gets the bigger box? I thought I was your favorite,” he claims in a hurt tone while clutching his chest. You catch Vergil rolling his eyes and shaking his head at his brother.

“Don’t be ranunculus!” you laugh while waving the boxed treats in front of his face. “It’s what you’ve been hounding me to make every time you visit,” you gleefully entice him with an arched eyebrow.

“Strawberry donuts?!” Dante gasps in surprise as he finally reaches the coveted prize he has been begging for ever since you first met him in your garden.

Lady lunges for the pastry box and successfully grabs it before Dante. “I believe these will do nicely as compensation!” she explains hastily while running out of the kitchen.

“Compensation?! For what?!” Dante yells as he pursues his donut thief.

“You’re welcome!” you call out dryly before shaking your head at them. Trish shrugs as she follows behind Dante and Lady while Kyrie laughs quietly besides you. Vergil’s eyes flicker between the lone pastry box and you as he walks closer to the counter. Kyrie says that she is going to check and make sure they are not making even more of a mess of the shop before retreating from the kitchen…leaving you alone with a very bare-chested Vergil Sparda.

You can feel heat emanating from his body as he steps up close to you and it takes all of your willpower to not openly gawk at his perfectly sculpted abdomen or his well-defined pecs. “You do know he’ll just beg you for more food now, right?” Vergil points out as he peers down at you.

“Oh, it’s okay!” You smile up at him and laugh softly. “I thought it would be a nice thank you gift for him.” You slide his own thank you gift on the counter towards him. “And it did distract him from stealing your treats!”

Vergil hums as his lips lift into a soft smile. “Very clever,” he comments as he raises his hand and carefully adjusts the slightly crooked flower crown on your head. Your mind checks out for a moment as the scent of bergamot overpowers your senses. “How are you doing today, Y/N?”

“I’m doing pretty boy…GOOD. Pretty good!” you stammer, quickly correcting your blundering words. But it is already too late since Vergil totally heard your blunt admiration. His soft smile turns into a smug grin as your cheeks turn absolutely red with embarrassment. “Yeah…I’m doing pretty good,” you mutter weakly as you avoid his amused gaze, taking a sudden interest in your shoes.

“I’m glad that you’re doing…pretty good,” Vergil suddenly murmurs by your ear, causing you to squeal softly in surprise. You look back up at him and huff in annoyance at the sight of his very pleased expression as he opens the pastry box. “You made these for me?” He tilts his head a little as he leans in to get a better look at the decadent bouquet of red velvet roses and the phrase written on the inside of the lid.

You nod your head demurely. “I wanted to thank you for helping me with the flowers. It’s one of my favorite recipes. Do you wanna try a bite?” you offer as you reach for the roll of paper towels still sitting on the counter. “If you don’t like it I could-”

“I’d enjoy anything made by you,” he gently interjects, silver blue eyes shifting over to meet your gaze. They bore into you with a soft intensity that only Vergil can pull off. You smile at his genuine compliment as you rip a square of paper towel and place it next to the box. “But if you insist,” he chuckles as you carefully take out one of the sweet rolls, revealing the word petals, rain, and stars beneath the translucent parchment paper.

You place the red velvet treat on the paper towel and unravel a small piece of the roll, making sure that it has a healthy portion of icing on it before offering it to him. Vergil squints at the words you have written on the bottom of the box as he takes the piece of sweet roll, giving it a light sniff before taking a bite. Moments like this always makes you so happy as you watch him chew, seeing a spark of delight in his eyes as he tastes your homed baked treat. It also gives you a good excuse to subtly admire his well-defined jawline and velvety pink lips.

“Good?” you ask as soon as he swallows the treat, not even trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“It’s delicious,” he declares with a grateful smirk.

You notice a small glob of icing stuck by one of his charming dimples. “You have a little…” you trail off as you gesture towards his cheek, trying to denote where he should wipe his face. He brushes that side of his face, but the glob of icing somehow survives the sweeping of his hand. “Here,” you sigh as you take a step closer to him. “I’ll just…” You reach up with your hand and swipe the icing off with your thumb.

“There we go!” you remark as another one of your devious ploys pops into you head. Your lips curl into an impish grin as you bring your hand to your mouth and suck the icing off your thumb, making sure your eyes never stray from Vergil’s intense gaze as you do so. You see the pupils of his eyes dilate dramatically as they hone in on your mouth, watching attentively as your tongue peeks out a little to lick the icing. The barest hint of blush appears on his cheeks when you hum in pleasure. You let the provocative moment drag on for a bit before asking the usual question that always brings him back to reality.

“Flower for your thoughts?”

That stunning jawline you adore so much clenches tight as the sharp glint in Vergil’s eyes from earlier comes back in full force. The soft blue hue of his irises seems to ignite as your entire body is electrified by the low rumbling growl emitting from his throat. Your heart beats faster than the wings of a hummingbird as the gorgeous devil of your daydreams and fantasies leans in closer…

The sound of the kitchen door crashing unceremoniously against the wall makes you jump back in alarm. Both of your heads snap over and you sigh in relief when you see it is just Dante lying on the floor. He is clutching the now beat up pastry box close to his chest while vigorously chewing the strawberry donut sticking out of his mouth. You are a little annoyed with him since you will never find out what would have happened if he had not interrupted Vergil’s approach…but you know that it is not his fault, so you just let your agitation go with a sweet smile.

Vergil snarls and stares down at his meddlesome brother menacingly, scolding him for frightening you with his ridiculous antics. Dante grins sheepishly as he stands up and apologizes for scaring you, but you just laugh since you have gotten used to his sudden bursts of chaotic energy. His mischievous eyes dart between you and Vergil before he informs his surly brother that they still need get ready before everyone leaves them behind. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion before they shoot up as you realize just how long you have been here.

“Oh snapdragons! It’s almost dinner time!”

You let out a string of your own apologies for taking up their time with your surprise visit as you rush out of the kitchen. Nero, Kyrie, and Nico are sitting in the couch while Trish and Lady are standing by the bar in the corner of the office. They all look over in interest as you scurry over to the desk and sling your purse over your shoulder. You are about to say your farewells to everyone when a familiar hand brushes against your arm.

Vergil gently coaxes you to turn around and face him. You notice that endearing crinkle between his brow is scrunched up in thought as he speaks. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“Would you like to join us forever?!” came Dante’s very boisterous addendum from the kitchen. This earns a very harsh glower directed at the kitchen door from Vergil while you giggle softly. Everyone else in the shop either laughs or just sighs and shakes their head at the door.

You glance over at Vergil’s hand still holding onto your arm, considering his gracious invitation to dinner with the whole crew. You cannot even recall the last time you went out to eat in the city, much less spend time with anyone outside of your business. In fact, you have not been this sociable in a long time…seeing the whole crew laughing and joking together reminds you of the family you wished you had growing up.

The longing for familial company bubbles in the pit of your stomach now. You have gotten used to being alone all the time, but maybe…you are like that one bud that blooms too soon in a bed of flowers: lonely for a time as its petals bask in the sunlight, but waiting patiently as it hopes for rain…so that the fellow buds may grow, bloom, and become a family of flowers.

Perhaps the rain has finally come.

Perhaps you don’t have to be a lonely flower.

“Yes!” you blurt out as you run a finger up the inside of Vergil’s forearm, gazing up at him warmly as you subtly get his attention. A brilliant smile blooms on your face as you nod your head eagerly. “Yes…I’d love to join you all for dinner!”

Vergil begins to smile back, but the crashing of the kitchen door again twists his lips into a grimace. Dante zooms by the desk, puts an arm around his brother’s shoulder, and practically pulls him up the stairs. Their brotherly squabbles echo through the office and, going by the harsh grunt, ends when Dante gets stabbed.

Kyrie ushers you to sit on the couch while you wait, chatting about how you made the strawberry donuts and promising to swap recipes sometime. Nero and Nico soon join in and, as you laugh along with Kyrie at all their jokes and banter, you no longer feel like that one lone bud hoping for rain.

You have finally found your family of flowers at Devil May Cry.

Read Part 7 (Ch. 2) here

Read on Ao3

My Master List if you want more. 💕

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thechildoflightning · 4 years

Text

Tectonic Plates- Ch2

Title: Tectonic Plates [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: None

~~~

Chapter Title: Convergent

Summary:

Patton visits the doctor, gets ice cream with his siblings, and works on the group project. It's a lot more stressful then it seems.

Warnings: Memory Loss, Tics, Racism, Ableism, Dead-Naming

[ao3 link]

~~~

Chapter Two: Convergent

“Hi Patton,” the doctor greets, and he notes how she doesn’t even have to glance down at her sheet to remember his name. He’s here often enough.

“Hi,” he responds.

She starts with basic questions and Patton answers as normal. He’s already been asked the same by the nurse who came to check his blood pressure earlier.

“So you’re having larger memory gaps?” she finally gets to.

“Yeah,” Patton agrees, “Sometimes more than an hour long.”

“How often is that happening? And how long on average?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, and looks over at his mom. She has his journal out, and the stats ready to go.

“About once every week, averaging about fifty minutes that we’ve noticed,” she responds. The doctor nods and makes a note.

“Okay. And describe these gaps to me a bit more. Do you remember anything during that time?”

The conversation carries on, Patton and his mom receiting medical information as the doctor tries to piece together what’s going on.

“I think from here I’m going to order a blood test, a CT scan, and an EEG,” she tells them.

“That uh, seems like a lot,” Patton comments.

Holy shit his brain is really fucked up isn’t it?

“What are all those for?” his mom asks.

“Well these larger memory gaps are concerning- and considering we haven’t seen them in you before, Patton, I want to get a blood test to make sure we’re not overlooking any infections. The MRI we’ve down before and with that we’re looking for any noticeable changes in your brain. I also want an EEG, and this one specifically to track electrical ability in your brain to see if this is maybe the result of seizures.”

“You think I’m having seizures?” Patton asks.

“To be completely honest Patton- we don’t quite know what’s going on. We know your history of memory issues and loss is linked to you contracting meningitis at such a young age. Memory loss with meningitis isn’t unheard of. It does concern me that this seems to be getting dramatically worse, especially over a recent short period of times. That’s why I’m calling for these tests. And I do think there’s a potential that this new form of memory loss is in fact seizure activity, which you are also at increased chances of having due to meningitis. Hopefully these tests will allow us to get a clearer picture of what we’re looking at, so we can better deal with the issue on hand.”

That meant that they don’t know anything now.

And if they don’t know anything now, after sixteen years, that probably meant they weren’t ever going to know.

It’s one thing to adjust to new medical information, to get used to gaps in time and increased memory loss with results guiding them, tell Patton what was happening.

It’s a whole different thing to have to get used to that without any further information, completely lost, stumbling through the dark.

Patton thinks he probably shouldn’t be wishing for a reason. Because a reason means something’s wrong with him. But, he already knows something’s wrong. At least a reason would explain that. Is it so bad to want a reason?

They set up the blood test, CT, and EEG appointments. Patton gets to go home after. He doesn’t feel up to homework, so he takes his binder off and lays down to take a nap. He’s so tired.

Of course, those plans are quickly foiled by his phone buzzing on his bedside table.

Patton groans but sits up carefully and reaches for the object. He opens it and reads through the texts.

It’s from a person named Sabrina, in a group chat, but Patton doesn’t know of any Sabrina’s. He scrolls up through past texts and quickly finds his answer. He’s in a group project with these kids for a class.

He sighs and gets up to get his notebook for the class.

With the notebook now in hand he sits at his desk with it and his phone.

Sabrina has sent a long list of things they each need to do, spelling out each of their work in the project in exact detail. Patton’s a bit frustrated that she didn’t even bother to ask his input on what he wanted to do, but quickly brushes it off. He understands that it probably has to be incredibly frustrating to be in a group with him. Patton works at almost half the speed and has to constantly check with partners that they’re on the same page.

It’s- he wishes she would have asked him. It would have been nice. But he gets why she didn't. It isn’t a big deal.

He opens up his computer next to his notebook, and starts to work. He has the spoons to do work today, might as well.

Not much later, the door swings open and the dog starts barking, alerting Patton to the fact that his younger siblings are home. He can hear Liam chattering loudly and greeting the dog even as Dani stays silent at his side. Patton listens to their fading voices with a fond smile.

Except, their voices aren’t actually fading as they go up to their respective rooms. Instead, they’re getting closer, and suddenly there’s an excited knocking on his door.

“Eileeeeen,” Liam sings, “Can we come in?”

The use of his deadname twists in his stomach for a minute. He knows Liam doesn’t mean it, they’re all learning. Patton still finds him misgendering himself on occasion.

Even so, it still hurts.

He could correct Liam. It’s just- Patton doesn’t want to make him feel bad. Plus it takes effort and it’s-

“Door’s open,” he replies, ignoring his thoughts.

Liam and Dani tumble in.

“Pat!” Liam says, zooming over to where Patton sits at his desk. He does a little bounce. “Can I give you a hug?”

“Course,” Patton responds, grinning down at his little brother easily, “Just be gentle please.”

Liam nods and embraces him, being especially careful around his back. Patton remembers how much he loves him as he holds him close.

“So? What’s up with the two of you?” Patton asks when Liam breaks the embrace.

“Me and Dani had an idea!” Liam announces.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, “We thought the three of us and Blythe could go out for ice cream!”

“It was Liam’s idea,” Dani quickly affirms, as if somehow trying to get out of going out for ice cream.

“Yeah it was!” Liam’s quick to agree, “Because Dani did really well on her math test today!”

Dani’s cheeks instantly turn red and she ducks her head.

“Liam,” she hisses out, “You said you wouldn’t say anything.”

“You did?!” Patton exclaims, “Dani that’s awesome!”

“It’s only because you sat and helped me,” she grumbles, “I couldn’t figure it out myself.”

“I barely helped,” Patton and insists, “and either way, you did it yourself on the test. And it’s not a bad thing to need help.”

Dani ducks her head again and continues to blsh vibrantly.

“So can we go for ice cream?” Liam pushes.

“Go get Blythe and we can,” Patton tells him.

Logan immediately leaves Patton;’s side, sprinting out of his room and upstairs to locate Blythe, shrieking all the way.

Dani rolls her eyes at Liam’s actions.

“Hey don’t roll your eyes,” Patton teases, “Who was it that tried to sled down the stairs in a bucket of stuffed animals?”

“Patton!” she groans, “That was one time!”

“And who is it that helps Liam wake up everyone with ear-piercing screeches on Christmas morning?”

“Ugh!” she groans, and storms out of the room, but the small smile on her face doesn’t escape Patton’s notice.

Patton stands to put on a bra before following her out of his room. He meets her in the living room just as Blythe and Liam are coming down the stairs.

“I- huh- heard we’re getting ice cream apparently- ah?” she says.

“I guess so,” Patton agrees.

She sighs, smile also fond if a bit exasperated, and herds them all to the car.

Patton forgets the ride there. He writes himself a note and pulls Blythe quietly aside to inform her so he doesn’t forget to add it to his log.

Liam leads the way to the ice cream parlor and he’s about to race the final stretch to the door when a woman stops Dani.

“Are you okay?” she asks, peering intentionally at Dani.

Patton’s big brother instincts step in full speed, he scans Dani over looking for any signs of harm, physical, emotional, or otherwise.

But Dani just seems confused.

“What, yeah I’m fine?”

The woman purses her lips and leans down to whisper- though it’s plenty loud enough for Patton, Blythe, and Liam to hear.

“Do you know these people?” she asks, eyebrows knitted in tense concern as her eyes scan the three of them warily. Patton feels his stomach sink. Blythe takes a half step to the side to block Liam from view.

Dani looks outright murderous.

Patton internally begs her to think before she speaks.

“Yes,” she says, “I’m getting ice cream with my siblings. I’m fine.”

The woman blinks.

“Oh these are your siblings? But you’re…” she trails off, but all of them knew what she was going to say. White. Dani’s white. Blythe, Patton, and Liam aren’t.

“Bye,” Dani says coldly, and turns away.

The woman mutters something and leaves.

Exactly after, Blythe shakes her head with a suppressed tic and her arm follows. She lets out a loud yelp and immediately slams a hand over her mouth as she turns to watch the still retreating women in fear. She doesn’t turn around. Blythe takes her hand away. Liam’s smaller one clings onto it.

Besides Blythe’s tics, they’re all silently frozen for a minute.

“Hey Liam,” Dani asks, “What ice cream are you going to get.”

Liam looks up at her and pushes a smile back on his face.

“I dunno,” he says, and his cheerfulness only seems a little bit forced, “There’s so many choices. There’s strawberry but I also really like chocolate, but the sherbet is so pretty. Oh! And the cotton candy made my tongue turn blue once! That was fun!” he rambles, and the four of them continue towards the store.

Liam, predictably chooses rocky road. He almost always does, no matter how often he talks about all the other flavors. Patton doesn’t really get it. He gets cookie dough this time.

Patton’s knee is starting to hurt, so he takes his ice cream and herds his siblings to a table as Blythe pays.

“How’s your day been?” Blythe asks at one point when Dani is busy scowling at Liam as he tries to convince her to play a game with him.

“Eh,” Patton admits, because Blythe he’s always been able to be honest around, “Doctor went fine, but was frustrating. Same thing as always- they have no clue what’s going on. But I’ve had a surprising amount of spoons today which has been nice.”

“Spoons,” Liam speaks up, “But you only have one?” He stares in confusion at Patton’s spoon in his ice cream.

Patton smiles at him.

“Yeah. This is a different type of spoon.”

“What other types of spoons are there?”

“Lemme show you,” Patton. He looks around, but doesn’t find any spoons. But Blythe is a;ready way ahead of him, speaking to someone at the counter with a smile. The person’s face is drawn and they are a bit, but they pass over a large handful of spoons regardless.

“Okay,” Patton says as Blythe hands him the spoons. “This is something called spoon theory. I’m going to have you hold the spoons, and then we’re going to talk about your day.”

“Okay?” Liam says, confused even as Patton hands him the spoons. His smaller hands hold them awkwardly.

“So walk me through your day, share everything you did.”

“I got up and went to school today?” Liam says, almost like it’s a question.

“That’s good,” Patton encourages, “but more detail. What did you do very first today?”

“I woke up and got out of bed.”

Patton nods, and reaches over and takes a spoon from his brother’s hands. Liam looks up at him in shock.

“You took the spoon!”

“Yup,” Patton agrees, “What’s the next thing you did?”

“I took a shower.”

Another spoon is taken away. Liam doesn’t say anything this time, but watches Patton. Dani, who was previously looking at the window, tries to subtly focus her attention on what’s happening.

“I ate breakfast. I got my backpack ready for school. I walked to school. I went to all my classes. I walked home from school.”

Five more spoons disappear. Liam has less than half left.

“What happens when the spoons run out?” he asks.

“What do you think happens?” Patton encourages. Because there’s no real way for Liam to understand his life, there’s no way for Liam to understand the constant pain, the draining energy, the calculations Patton puts into each day. This is the best metaphor he’s heard of.

“Well you’re taking away spoons when I do something,” he says, “So… if I run out I can’t do more things?”

“Exactly. Good job,” Patton praises.

Liam grins at the attention, but his expression quickly morphs into a frown.

“What if I run out of spoons before the day’s over? And I can’t do anything? What happens if I don’t have more spoons?”

“You have to wait until you get spoons back,” Patton explains. “Sometimes resting helps, sometimes you just have to wait. Sometimes you wake up and you start with more spoons, or less.”

“I don’t- I don’t think I run out of spoons?” Liam says. “I don’t get it.”

“That’s okay,” Patton encourages, “It’s not supposed to be you, it’s supposed to be me.”

“Well why do you have spoons and I don’t? Am I going to get spoons one day? It doesn’t seem very good.”

“I have spoons because I’m disabled. It’s how my life works. I start with spoons and I have to learn how to use them and manage them so I don’t run out. And that can be really hard.”

“So you rest more. And can’t do as many things sometimes,” Liam adds on.

“Yeah,” Patton encourages.

Liam frowns and quickly whispers some things to himself, setting down spoons as he does so. Eventually, all of them rest on the table.

“There’s not enough spoons for ice cream,” he realizes. “I’m sorry. I made you come.”

“You didn’t make me come,” Patton tells him, “Ice cream did take a spoon. But I have a bit more spoons today, and it was a spoon I was willing to spend. I’m okay. I just need you to listen to me when I sometimes say I can’t do things or need a break or need more time. Okay? Can you do that?”

“Yes!” Liam is quick to reassure. Dani nods slightly off to the side.

“Awesome,” Pat says, “Thank you.”

Soon enough, Liam is rambling about his day again, even getting Dani to chip in about hers as they finish their melting ice cream. It’s a nice moment.

The next morning Patton wakes up to a screeching alarm clock and a buzzing phone. He groans, shutting the alarm off first before checking his texts.

It’s a group chat, with three names he doesn’t recognize, asking him about dates for something. He frowns and opens it, scrolling up the chat to realize it’s a group project for one of his classes. They’re asking him about dates to meet up.

But the dates they sent don’t work for him, Patton knows they don't. Why don’t they?

He checks his phone calendar, realizes that’s when he has to go back to the doctor. He- he has to get some tests done, right?

He’ll check his notes later to be sure. Right now he needs to text the group chat that he can’t do those dates

To: Group

Patton: Sorry cant do those times. Doctors appointment.

Now that that’s done, he gets out of bed.

And the moment he stands a spasm of pain rolls through his back. He catches himself on his bed before he falls over and hisses through grit teeth. The pain starts to subside. Somewhat.

He takes a breath. He waits a minute. Then, he carefully stands full upright, focusing on each tiny movement his back makes.

It feels like it’s on fire. But at least now it’s starting to simmer versus torch him. He carefully rolls his shoulders. His back settles somewhat, settling at a low familiar ache. Patton doesn’t risk his binder today. Dysphoria sucks, but the chance of causing further damage to his back and increasing his pain isn;t worth it. He grabs his cane.

Patton’s day sucks.

His back continues to spasm at random points, sending harsh shooting pains all across it. He doesn’t want to risk stretching out at school, where he doesn’t have a place to lie down or someone to help him if he needs it. But he’s pretty sure that sitting all day is making it worse.

It hurts.

But finally it’s his last class of the day and the bell’s ringing and Patton can finally go home and there’s a person approaching him and she’s saying his name and Patton really does not want to talk to anyone right now he wants to rest.

But Patton doesn’t know what she wants, maybe she needs something, so he puts on a bright grin and nods in her direction from his seat.

“You can't keep flaking,” she tells him.

Patton blinks- unsure what she’s even talking about. She seems to know him but Patton has literally zero clue who she is and he doubts she’d be okay with him asking if her aggressive attitude is anything to go off of.

“What?” he says instead.

“Look. This is a group project. That’s two days in a row you’ve said you can’t meet up during, with the same excuse of a doctor’s visit. You need to put in effort here.”

Oh. Patton knows who she is now.

There’s a little bit of anger that comes with her statement too. Because here she is, coming in with anger and aggression because Patton’s missed two days and automatically assumes he’s lying. He gets it- most people don’t go to the doctor as often as he does. But she could have been nicer.

Patton doesn’t blame her though. Maybe she’s had a bad day. Most people do use the “I have to go to the doctor” excuse.

Either way, she does need to hear the truth.

“I wasn’t flaking,” he insists.

“Really?” she asks, an eyebrow raised and shaking her head, “Two doctor’s appointments in two weeks?”

“Yes.”

“What could you possibly need to see a doctor about twice in two weeks now?”

Patton admits that at this point his patience is thinning. He’s telling the truth and now she’s pressing into his private medical information and it’s not fair. It’s not fair, Patton shouldn’t have to share this with her but she expects him to. Why is Patton expected to share everything medical with everyone?

She doesn’t know though. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.

That makes it okay?

“That’s private information,” he eventually settles on.

She’s not going to believe him. She’s not- Patton can see it on her face, her disbelieving eyes, her scorn. She doesn’t believe and there’s no way she will unless Patton tells her everything- about how his memory doesn’t fucking work and sometimes he forgets huge chunks of times and he still doesn’t know her name and forgets that he’s even in a group project because his memory doesn’t even work-

She huffs.

She doesn’t believe him.

“This project is really important,” she tells him, “And I need an A in this class. Get your shit together.”

She storms out of the classroom.

Patton sighs, takes a breath. It’s surprisingly hard to breathe. He stands carefully, watching his back for any signs that it doesn’t like what he’s doing. It hurts. He stands, grabs his cane, leaves the classroom. He goes home. He’s not sure what else he can do.

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

Text

Forecast's for Bitches

Prompt by: @smodernlife : I just got caught in a rainstorm I should have been prepared for and now I'm loving the idea of Cas and Dean in a rainstorm and Cas refuses to share his umbrella and raincoat because "if you insist on making fun of my weather preparedness you shall suffer the consequences".

Except, this isn't a rainstorm. It's just rain.

***

"For fuck's sake, Cas," Dean groaned, glaring at his boyfriend, as the rain flattened his hair unbecomingly, as it bounced off of Cas's stupid Oscar-Wilde-quotes umbrella to hit Dean precisely on the head. "You're in a trenchcoat, and you have an umbrella." He sucked in a breath. "I have neither. Sharing is caring."

"Dean," Cas declared, definite and smug. "Despite what they taught us in preschool, sharing - at least, right now - is to spoil you by encouraging your deprecating sarcasm. Not making fun of my weather preparedness is caring."

"You're kidding, right?" Dean blinked, and raised his arms in annoyance. "I'm getting soaked, and you want to nag me for making fun of you, instead of being a gentleman and protecting my ass from the rain!"

"When the rain threatens to kidnap you and somehow doubles your student loans, I promise to intervene for the sake of your ass." Cas shot back, sure of mind. "And, by the way, hand over your phone and wallet."

Dean feigned shock. "You won't share your umbrella with me, and you're trying to mug me?"

"Your possessions shouldn't have to pay the price for your assholery towards my weather-cautious attitute," Cas elaborated, and pocketed the articles Dean handed over submissively. "So, I'll keep your things safe. You, on the other hand, are encouraged to get drenched in the rain, Dean."

"You're such a dick, why do you also have to be McWordy Worderson?" Dean whined, kicking a pebble, and continuing to walk - still getting drenched from the downpour, his clothes sticking to his skin.

"You calling me that just brought the already marginal chances of me giving in, down to nil." Cas stubbornly informed Dean, earning himself another ferocious roll of his eyes.

"Marginal, my ass." Dean muttered. "You were so not gonna give in yet. I know you, Cas, I've been dating your stubborn-frigging-ass for too long."

It was Castiel's turn to roll his eyes. They went on walking, Cas comfortably holding the umbrella over solely himself while Dean drudged along his side.

"By the way, would you be okay with me finishing my draft before we resume watching -" Cas had begun, perfectly casual, but Dean glared at him incredulously.

"What, you think you can just make conversation, right now?" He barked, at the slightly smirking man. "The least I can do to retaliate is take away your privilege of getting to talk with me."

"You're not supposed to retaliate to my retaliation, you're supposed to learn a lesson." Cas informed Dean, pursing his lips.

"Oh, is the lesson going to be that death from pneumonia is painful as fuck?" Dean mocked.

"I have faith in your immune system, Dean." Cas simply replied, looking utterly pleased with his boyfriend's predicament.

Dean huffed.

"And what about the fact that I'm wet and getting wetter by the second, honey?" He egged on.

"I like the sound of it." Cas deadpanned.

"Cas, you dirty sonuvabitch," Dean couldn't resist. "But I didn't mean for you," He teased. "What about the girls who're gonna see me all drenched and faux-naked and alone, since clearly if I were walking with my boyfriend who has an umbrella, I wouldn't be in this state, and what if they offer me a ride or their coats or -"

"I have an umbrella." Cas stopped him. "And I won't hesitate to use it."

"You can use that thing to poke away kind, helpful chicks who approach me, but not to provide me shelter?" Dean protested.

"Exactly." Cas agreed, unperturbed.

"That's it." Dean grumbled. "I'm not talking to you."

Cas gave him a look. "You propose we walk home in silence?"

Dean, true to his word, didn't reply. He took a longer step than usual to cross a puddle, and focussed his attention on the ground solely.

"Alright." Cas said, partially annoyed. "Let's not."

There was silence for barely a moment before Dean spoke up again.

"Where's the fun in me bitching about you, if you're not here to listen to it?" He declared.

Cas nodded.

"And, for the record, I propose that we walk closer - near enough to share the umbrella and then I propose you kiss me under it." Dean crossed his arms on his chest, a drenched mess now. A stray droplet landed on his forehead, and trickled down the left of his face.

Cas narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you try to be -"

"What? That wasn't seductive or anything." Dean excused himself before he'd even been accused. "You mind me being a cliche lover of romantic tropes, now?"

"No, I like that fairly." Cas scoffed. And then, on a seemingly unrelated note, he went on. "You know, you haven't even apologized yet." Cas finally admitted

"What for?"

Cas gave him the universal in-a-relationship look for If I have to tell you, you don't deserve to know.

"Is this still about the stupid weather forecast thing in the morning?" Dean knitted his eyebrows together in a frown. "Or, are you projecting? Is this a bigger issue? A larger dick move on my part?"

A car zoomed past them. Dean got splashed, and swore at it. Cas was already speaking.

"No, this isn't something big. The 'stupid weather forecast thing' is all this is about." Cas sounded offended. "It's that small. If something is of the slightest import to me, you cannot - you can't just up and diss it, Dean."

"Oh -"

"I don't enjoy being mocked. And it isn't as if I was cancelling a wedding because my horoscope said so. I was carrying an umbrella because the news said it'd rain. Meteorology is a science."

Dean was taken aback. There was silence for a while.

"Can I just say that I honestly didn't know it meant a single thing? If I was a jerk, which I bet I was, now that I think of it - I'm sorry. Won't happen again. I didn't mean it like that." He finally uttered, in a rush, sounding embarrassed, and genuinely sincere.

"I know, Dean," Cas nodded. "That's why I'm not 'mad' mad."

"You're stuck in the 'passive-aggressive' mad zone." Dean helped.

"Just like you're eternally stuck in the not-exactly-but-somehow-an-assbutt mode." Cas served back, continuing to walk.

"Exactly like that, yeah." Dean grinned, the temporary drop and the tension resolved. "Hey, so, that being said and sorted..?"

"I suppose we could follow through with before mentioned kiss in the rain." Cas was being a little shit on purpose, Dean recognized the humor in his tone, and leaned in nonetheless.

Just as Dean was close enough to be sheltered by the umbrella, he was close enough to be pulled right up against Cas. With a hand on his back, almost against his skin through the layers of fabric, Cas shuddered, and almost pulled back. "Whoa, you're soaked."

"You're the one doing laundry," Dean retorted. "I'm gonna stink of rain."

"Rain doesn't -" Cas pulled back to say, but Dean closed the gap, putting one damp palm on Cas's face, to position them correctly. Their lips fit against each other familiarly, soft brushes and swirling tongues, and Cas held the umbrella over them as Dean held them together.

"You're more handsy than usual." Cas laughed, pulling away, his face almost as wet as Dean's, because Dean had made it a point to touch.

"What do you mean - I'm always into you, sweetheart." Dean winked, mischievously.

"You haven't found my forehead worthy of your attention in quite a while." Cas explained, smiling as well.

"That's a lie, I think you've got a really sexy one." Dean laughed, and Cas mirrored him. "You know, I had half a mind to pull away the umbrella and let you be the one getting drenched while you were caught up in the kiss. But," he dramatized. "It's like you held on to it on purpose. You have messed up priorities, Cas."

"I just anticipated it, because as you say, I know you, I've been dating you for too long. And, choosing to hold the umbrella over you was a one-time-thing, I promise." Cas told him, sliding an arm around his waist, wet or not. They resumed walking, and well, Cas' had always been a generous, forgiving spirit. He shared the umbrella, but kept it mostly over himself, because push comes to shove; two men, six foot tall and enough wide, cannot really share an umbrella that well.

The next time, Dean doesn't laugh at Cas for taking an umbrella and his coat on a sunny day, but it turns out to be one of the brightest days of the year.

The one after that, lesson forgotten, Dean has to actually walk the whole ten blocks home in the rain, while Cas doesn't deter from his promise to not share his Oscar Wilde quotes umbrella at all, even when Dean - admittedly adorably - swallows raindrops and tries to be endearing while skipping over a pothole. Castiel is a man of his words, with an awfully cute boyfriend.

***

Taglist alert: @ctrl-alt-destiel @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @adventurous-blob @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @moderatelypanickedbisexual @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ladywaywarddsc I'm really sorry for the super-late fic, dear taglist! It's been a weird-ass month. Sadly enough, I dunno when the next one will be, though I'm constantly thinking up stuff :( Anyways, do leave a note, and maybe some words. Thank you for reading. Have an awesome day!

Edit: I realize the plot is kinda all about the place and doesn't make much sense now that I got it pointed out to me, but I'm gonna keep it posted just so because I need to get back to Trig. Just ~ if you don't like it, please don't read. I wrote after very long and I'm sorry if it sucks. Hope you smile.

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blueroseblaze · 5 years

Text

Wreck: Chapter 3

Nero stepped through the door of the apartment, studying the almost untouched state of the place.

Nothing had been moved or changed since they left for their mission. The pillows from the sofa were still strewn about with little regard. The same pairs of shoes and boots littered the entry way with none being added or removed. None of the dinning chairs had been moved to what he could see. Even the rhythmic drip of the leaky kitchen faucet, which could be stopped with just a tug of the cold water handle, still continued on with no interference.

Nero cautiously tread through the apartment, looking for any sign of life. Only to come up empty handed.

No one answered the phone when he had called from the hospital earlier that morning. When he called Lady and Trish they answered within moments. When he called Patty and Morrison, they both answered within 5 rings. Dante was a dick and let his phone ring until the last second, and Kyrie missed it but immediately called him back.

It didn’t worry him too much, none of them were good at answering the apartment phone anyway. It was when he received no answer from the van’s phone that made him worry. Nico was always one to give him shit for breaking the third ring rule, to the point where they dropped it and just had Nero call her. Nico never didn’t answer the phone in the van, she would always drop whatever she was doing to answer it if no one else did. Communication was key in their line of work, and Nero’s had been one sided for days.

He walked over to the land line that sat on an end table in the living room, he cleared all the missed calls and voicemails that he left and listened to the ones not from him. Some were scams, some were from Patty wanting to leave an excited welcome home message for (Y/N). He smiled at her cheerfulness, wishing he had such a positive outlook on life.

His attention was pulled away by a loud clang coming from the garage door. His brow knit together curiously as he followed the noises. As he approached the door, he could hear more clangs and crashes, like tools being discarded haphazardly. He could also pick up a few swears spoken in a familiar southern drawl.

He carefully opened the door, like he was almost afraid of what was on the other side. The door slowly fell open, creaking on it’s aged hinges. Almost immediately his senses were bombarded with a smog of cigarette smoke and rust. His eyes started watering as he stepped deeper into the garage, waving his hand in front of his face to waft the stench away, to no avail. He took note of the numerous empty and crushed energy drink cans littering the floor. He carelessly discarded them with his boot as he shuffled through the mess.

His view of the garage was mostly obscured by the massive van sitting in the center, the neon Devil May Cry sign was shut off the dull lettering reflecting the mood of the space. The body of the van was covered in scratched and gashes through the metal frame, some panels of metal just barely hanging on. The hood was propped up, and the drivers side door was open, allowing him to see through the front row to the other side, where he heard the continued cursing coming from.

“Damnit!” a quiet voice hissed from the other side of the van.

Nero stalked around the front of the van, cautiously peeking around the vehicle to the crouched form on the ground. The mess leading to the garage door was nothing compared to the trash pile Nico had nested herself in.

With a lit cigarette in her mouth, Nico stared annoyed at the decimated passenger side door, or what was left of it. Around her were several open cans of liquid sugar and alcohol. Many tools were also strewn about the concrete floor, with no order or system to speak of. Nico -despite being the crazy grease monkey she was- always kept her work space and instruments organized, only really getting messy when she was using a select set of tools for a project. But this? Nero has never seen so many wrenches, pliers, cables and ratchets scattered across the ground.

That wasn’t even to describe the state Nico herself was in. Her hair was greasy and unkempt, messily tied back rather than pushed back and fluffed up like it normally was. Her clothes, which were never really clean in the first place, were covered in grease and what Nero worriedly suspected was some blood too. Her face was haggard, devoid of any positive emotion, the skin around her eyes was sagging and dark and her eyes were blood shot and hazed over.

She lazily took a drag of her cigarette, tapping the loose ashes away to the floor with little thought, which was probably insanely dangerous to do next to an almost armored vehicle. She didn’t even turn to regard the white haired devil hunter, probably not knowing he was even there.

“Nico?” Nero prodded carefully.

“Hey, Nero,” she replied still not turning her head. Her voice was low, slurring with clear exhaustion.

Nero leaned his body against the open hood of the van looking down at Nico as she kept staring at the damaged door frame.

“What have you been doing?” he asked not wanting to bring up the missed calls just yet.

Nico puffed on her cigarette, exhaling another cloud of tobacco into the confined space, just adding to the awful smell permeating through the air.

“Working,” Nico replied simply.

Nero sighed before kicking a discarded can across the room, the sound of the aluminum bouncing around concrete ringing out throughout the garage. He looked back to Nico, who hadn’t even flinched at the sharp loud noise. The silence that followed grew more and more in awkwardness as the seconds ticked by. Nero pursed his lips, looking for the right thing to say. It was obvious Nico was in no mood to be snarky or partake in small talk. Her face and general demeanor was a clear, “don’t fucking talk to me,” sign. It sent a sense of unease through Nero’s system, seeing what was basically the opposite of the Nico he knew.

“(Y/N) is doing fine. She woke up last night and she’s okay,” Nero explained.

“And you just left her there? Alone?” Nico snapped, suddenly becoming more visceral.

“I waited until she woke up and then told her I was coming back here,” Nero said growing slightly annoyed at her accusatory tone, “I tried calling you, several times, but you wouldn’t pick up.”

“Well I’m sorry! But I’ve been a little busy here!” she snapped at him, her voice growing louder, more laced with venom as she spit her excuse towards him. She removed the cigarette from her lips, extinguishing it on an ashtray placed on the floor near her. She stood from her spot on the ground wobbling a little as she turned her back and walked away, running her hand through her messy hair.

Nero felt a little anger growing in his chest as he raised himself from the hood of the van to stand up straight. He crossed his arms over his chest, his broad shoulder tensing.

“You constantly got on my ass for not picking up the phone fast enough. even when I’m out hunting demons, but when I’m calling from the fucking hospital to tell you how our friend is doing you just give me silence!” Nero yelled.

Nico spun around, almost fast enough for her red glasses to slide down her nose. She had rage in her tired eyes as her chest moved with her angry huffs. Her boots slammed against the floor as she cleared the space between them in only a few strides. Their chests were mere inches apart when Nico poked her finger into Nero’s sternum.

“That’s because you’re a dumbass who can’t keep track of time! Meanwhile, I’m back here working on something really fucking important, but I guess not to you!” Nico yelled in his face, her breath reeked of tobacco and a cocktail of disgusting smelling things with an absence of toothpaste or mints.

Now it was Nero’s turn to huff and puff in anger.

“Do you have any idea how disappointed she was when I told her you hadn’t even picked up the phone or bothered to come and see her in the hospital?” he asked his voice slowly raising, “She was out of it for three days and not once to you even bother to call and ask if she was okay!”

He jerked away from Nico’s accusatory poking before continuing his rant.

“Patty was able to stop by, Lady called the hospital asking if (Y/N) was okay, but I called the van directly and you didn’t even pick up. You answered me once and the hung up after I said she was alive. Do you know how much that hurt her? Do you even care?”

“OF COURSE, I CARE!” Nico screamed, “You think I don’t care about her? Or what happened? You think that I’ve had even a wink of sleep these past few days? You think I’ve done anything but worry and work on this god forsaken van!?”

As she screams, she started lashing out flailing her arms in rage and kicking the side of the van several times, like it would help anything at all. Nero saw how she squeezed her eyes shut, barring and grinding her teeth as her breathing became more ragged with each violent action. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists tight, trying to hold back an even greater rage she was feeling. Nero worried for a moment that she would hurt herself as she continued to beat on the van, hurling expletives and ravings at it like it had slighted her grandmother.

Nero let her flush all the anger out of her system, watching as her attacks on the vehicle slowly decreased in power and volume. Her breathing was all over the place, gasps and uneven pants replacing her curses and insults. She leaned her forearms against the side of the van, her back hunched and the top of her head pressed against the cold and abused metal. Her back shook with her uneven breaths, and Nero saw the little droplets that fell to the garage floor at her feet.

“So that this never happens again,” she said, her voice hoarse, shaky, unsure yet determined.

“What?” Nero asked softly, not picking upon the context during her tirade.

“I’ve been working…” she started, trailing off as her voice shook, “So that this never… happens… again.”

Nico raised her head to look at Nero. Her whole face was red and splotchy, her cheeks were stained with tear tracks, and the lenses of her glasses had fogged up. Her face contorted with sadness, anger, and what looked like guilt. She pulled herself away from the van turning her head as to not look at Nero. Her arms crossed around her body, hugged herself tightly. Nero had never seen Nico so vulnerable and insecure before.

Nero’s whole posture had relaxed as he stepped towards her. As carefully as he could muster, he encircled his arms around her, holding her close to him. He felt her burry her face into his chest as her sobs continued. She didn’t unwind her own arms to return the gesture, just letting Nero hold her as she cried. One of Nero’s hand rested flat against her back, while the other cradled her head closer to him. He hushed her as she cried trying in vain to calm her down.

“It’s my fault,” she hiccupped, “It’s all my fault.”

“That’s not true,” Nero replied sharply.

“I wasn’t paying attention, I should have seen the damage. I shouldn’t have gone for that jump.”

She continued sobbing into Nero’s wine red sweater.

“I should have stopped or slowed down. If… if I didn’t go for it, she wouldn’t have fallen out… It’s my fault she got hurt. A-and I saw her… I saw her fall and I didn’t do anything. Even after I stopped I-I just stared...”

“There was nothing you could do,” Nero explained, his voice soft ginger as he stroking the mechanic’s back calmingly, “There was nothing anyone could do. It was already too late. I should have seen the demon on the side, but I didn’t. I should have seen her fall, but I didn’t. No one knew that she wasn’t safe anymore. But it’s okay now, she’s alive, she’s healing. All we can do now is be there for her, right?”

He felt her nod against his chest, letting out a few more hiccups as she reached up to wipe the stray tears from her eyes. Her breathing began to even out, slow and deep and her shaking subsided.

“She’s not mad at you,” Nero said, “She doesn’t blame you. She was just upset that you didn’t come to see her. She was worried about you.”

“Was she upset when she woke up because of how bad you smell?” Nico teased, laughing through the last of her hiccups, “You smell like you crawled out a demons ass.”

“Oh, and you smell like a field of roses,” Nero smugly replied.

“Gross, you flirting with me?” Nico asked.

“Just for that…” Nero said, as he began to smother Nico into his sweater as she fought against him cackling.

They both fought against each other laughing as Nero refused to let Nico go to breath. It was rare they both had something to mutually laugh at together. They both just liked taking to piss with each other and really only laughed together when (Y/N) told a good joke on the way to or from a mission.

Eventually Nero relented, releasing Nico who returned the sentiment by calling him an asshole and punching him in the chest, which did little to hurt him. He laughed and humored her by raising his hand to where her fist connected. They giggled like kids together, their laughs slowly dissipating, and an uncomfortable silence fell over them.

“We should both clean up and get some rest, it doesn’t look like you’ve slept, and I’ve been crashing on a hospital couch for three days. We can go see (Y/N) later, she’ll be thrilled to see you,” Nero said, laying a hand on Nico’s shoulder.

She nodded and understanding smile graced her freckled cheeks before fading just as fast as it appeared.

Feedback is much appreciated :)

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc5 #devil may cry 5 #nero #dmc nero #nico #dmc nico #reader #nero x reader #dmc fanfiction #dmc fanfic #devil may cry fanfiction #reader insert #angst

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oh-theatre · 5 years

Text

Sycamore High: Quick Time (Chapter 35)

A/N: Ok so there was a giant time skip, nothing much happened but im here to answer questions. I just really needed to skip ahead and decided thats how I'm gonna do it. I hate this fucking chapter so much

summary: Things happen (I don't freaking know)

words: 3,323

warnings: Swearing, sadness, crying, negative thoughts, kissing, loopy acting, abuse, violence

Ao3 Link

“If you keep tapping your foot, Tommy…” Eric warned Tommy swallowed stopping. He stared out the window of the plane, waiting for them to land. The flight had been awful, spending almost 8 hours next to his father. They did get to sit in first class and Tommy absolutely loved it, he was devastated to leave France. It would have been one of the best trips if he could just remove his parents from the equation. They would constantly bring him around, or stay at home, leaving him to wander. His least favorite part? The churches, he loved the architecture but he knew why they were there which ruined it for him. He was excited to see Ted, he had offered to meet them at the airport but was quickly shut down by Tommy not wanting him to be harassed by his parents. He had barely spoken to Ted, every time he even glanced at his phone his parents would whisk him away to something. He’d either have to stay up really late or just not talk to him. He’d hoped his gift had arrived. The plane landed smoothly, and from then on things moved quickly. They went through everything being promptly picked up by the limo once more.

“Tommy, sit up straight” Teagan ordered, Tommy sighed. He was exhausted and just wanted to lean and sleep. But he did as she said, sitting up straight staring right ahead. The car ride was...boring. His parents sat in the front discussing who knows what and Tommy tried to keep his eyes open in the back. His phone had run out of battery so there was no texting anyone. Once they arrived at home Tommy raced upstairs plugging it in and unpacking. He knew his parents wouldn't let him leave the house unless everything was perfect, and the sun was still up so he was going to do his best. Once everything settled he gathered some things in his bag, taking his phone with a portable charger and going back downstairs. His parents stared at him, ready to grill him.

“Suitcase?” Teagan asked

“Unpacked”

“Dirty clothes”

“In the washer, ready to be cleaned”

“Clean clothes?”

“Folded and/or hung back up neatly”

“Room?”

“Tidy, and I changed the sheets on my bed”

“Did you-

“Take a shower? Yes, I did” Tommy answered, he’d done this enough times. Teagan stared at him almost impressed. She sighed clearly disappointed.

“Be back before nine pm, understood?” She declared, He squealed hugging her quickly. He ran outside grabbing his bike and riding away. He arrived pretty quickly, only missing a few directions, in his defense it had been awhile. He parked the bike, locking it up. He went up the stairs skipping one at a time until finally reaching the apartment. He was buzzing out of his shoes as he rung the doorbell. It was quiet for a moment but soon enough soft yapping could be heard through the door and a firm voice telling them to hush. The door opened.

“Tommy!” Chad exclaimed Tommy smiled it had been so long. He jumped into Chad's arm, receiving an immediate embrace. “Good to see you too” Chad laughed. He pulled away grinning so wide. Suddenly a frantic shuffling of small feet came running at him. He kneeled down embracing the white fluffball.

“Bonnie!” He squeals snuggling the creature in his arms, noticing a small Clyde following behind. He released his dog allowing her to circle his feet excitedly as he stands. Henry emerges from the archway, he's talking to someone.

“I'm sure it's just your father...” He trails off spotting Tommy, he smirks knowingly. Ted follows soon after meeting his dad's gaze. Tommy bounces, Ted grins extremely wide. The professors share a knowing glance before leaving the room.

“Ted!” Tommy squeals moving towards him

“Gumdrop!” He responds picking up the smaller boy, hugging him. He spins him around kissing him lightly. “I missed you so much!” Clyde bounces at Ted's feet wanting a piece of the action. He chuckles picking up the beagle, petting him softly. Tommy does the same with Bonnie as the couple makes their way to the couch. “How was France?” Ted asks Tommy smiles. He feels safe sitting here, Bonnie in his arms, Ted right next to him. France was awful, but right now, it was wonderful.

“Oh besides my parents it was beautiful Ted!” He shares, he wasn't lying. The time he got to spend on his own or with his grandmother was delightful. “I went to so many places! We were in Paris for a while, and then we traveled to Normandy, well me and Grammy did. My parents refused, but it was lovely Ted.” Tommy swooned, he kind of missed it. “The war sights were so sad but interesting” Tommy could go on for ages, and Ted would listen. “Oh! I do hope you got my gift, I realized we hadn't talked much since before Christmas”

“I did, I really loved it,” he expressed, the gift had been one of his favorites from the holiday. Tommy had made a wonderful scrapbook of all of their time together, with pictures, momentums, and silly things. Ted had looked it almost every night, each time discovering something new. It put Ted's gift to shame, he hadn't been able to send it to Tommy but he had it wrapped up and ready to go for this exact moment. “I'll be right back, I'm going to get your gift,” he said, kissing Tommy's cheek. He stood making his way towards his room. Tommy sat with Bonnie on his lap waiting eagerly, Clyde had followed Ted into the room. Clearly, the dog had become attached. The room looked the same except for a few small new things. The tree was still up, Tommy's heart ached at the sight. Wishing he could have spent Christmas with an actual tree. The fire was lit, the smell of cookies wafting from the kitchen. Everything was so...Christmassy. Ted returned holding a box, it was wrapped in a red paper, with little trees over it. He returned to his place handing Tommy the box. He opened it excited for the contents, knowing no matter what, he would love it.

And he did

~~~

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Aw man! Creeper!” Everyone paused turning to Ted, he pursed his lips shrugging. Tommy shook his head, signaling now was not the time.

“I'm not going over this with you again Paul” Emma returned her focus to Paul. Ted decided he was going to fall back a bit as they walked to school. He and Tommy fell in line by Bill and Charlotte as the arguing couple walked ahead. They continued this way during the entire walk to school.

“I need to talk to Jackie, see you guys later” Charlotte informed, waving goodbye to her friends. Tommy, Ted, and Bill pushed past the squabbling teens making their way to the locker.

“What is up with them?” Tommy asks leaning against the locker next to Teds. Ted opens his locker stuffing some things in, allowing Bill to do the same. “What happened over winter break”

“It's been like this for a week now,” Ted moans pulling out his lawn chair. He sets his up, Bill follows. “They won't stop fighting and we don't even know what it's about” He complains, Tommy nods. Bill yawns squirming in his chair. Ted grabs Pauls chair setting it up for Tommy to use, they sit. Tommy positions the chair next to Ted for the sole purpose of wanting to lean on him. Ted pulls out his laptop and begins working on an assignment allowing Tommy to lean on him. They were all exhausted, Emma had held a ‘Last Day of Winter Break’ party the night before. It was a great idea until they all woke up two hours later and it was time for school.

“I theorize that they are fighting because…” Bill pauses yawning, his glasses droop on his nose. Ted leans over adjusting them, gesturing for him to continue. “Thank you...I wonder if it's because of their chemistry project?” He inquires, Ted, bites his lip.

“Mmm I don't think so, last time I talk to Paul he said it was going fine” Ted recalls, Bill shrugs leaning back in his chair. He pulls out a book opening it to a bookmarked page. Ted eyes it “Is that the book for the book club?” He asks, Bill nods showing him the cover. “Cool, how is that goin-”

“I'm going to blow my fucking brains out” Paul interjects fuming. Ted shoots him a smile, waving hello.

“Good morning to you too Paul” He greets, Paul glares rolling his eyes. He shoves Ted's chair out of the way, causing Tommy to sit up blinking. “You could've just asked me to move..” Ted mumbles. Tommy stretches his arms out, kissing Ted lightly on the cheek. He stands grabbing his bag, Ted pouts taking his boyfriend's hand “Mmm where you going?” He asks, Tommy giggles softly

“Gotta talk to teachers before class” He informs lovingly, he releases Tommy waving a small goodbye. Paul gags sitting in his chair. Ted eyes him, raising an eyebrow.

“Ok, what is going on with you?” He gives in, Bill shuts his book interested. Paul glances between them, groaning.

“Ugh fine I'll tell you..” And so he does…

~~~

“So that's a yes?” Jackie asks unsure. Charlotte bites her lip nervously. She fidgets with her hands, wringing them. Jackie takes them, looking her in the eyes. “You don't have to if you don't want to, or if your not sure” She assures.

“No no I do...I really liked our kiss” She muttered the last part. “But I'm scared to break up with Sam, I've never broken up with anyone…” Jackie smiles affectionately at Charlotte. She was tempted to kiss her again, in this small corner of the school/

“I know, I liked our kiss too” She smirks, Charlotte chuckles. “But take all the time you need, really, breaking up with people is hard and who knows how Sams going to react” Jackie goes, Charlotte nods gratefully.

“You're planning on breaking up with me?” A sudden voice appears, Charlotte turns her eyes widen horrified. Sam stands angrily at the opening, his nostrils flare. “What kind of bullshit is this Charlotte?” He takes a step forward, Jackie moves Charlotte back a bit shielding her.

“No! Sam… I didn't... I..” Charlotte tries but what was she supposed to say. Her insides turn, she can't feel her mouth. She can't speak.

“This is all that guy Teds fault isn't it?” Charlotte became aware that he didn't hear about the kiss. But now she was worried about her friend. “I told him to stay away from you…” He cracks his knuckles “Oh.. he's going to regret this” Charlotte realizes what he means a second too late as he storms away, fire practically marking his steps.

“Charlotte are yo-” Jackie tries

“We have to go! We have to follow him, he's going to hurt someone!” She cries, Jackie nods as the girl's race down the hall. Following as best they can. They bump into students and teachers finally reaching a clearing of lockers and Sam. They see him approaching someone sitting in a chair. “Its Ted” She scrambled, Jackie holds her back out of fear she’ll get hurt. “Jackie!” But she's stronger.

~~~

“Hey!” Ted turns in his seat pulling away from the conversation. He spots Sam walking towards them, angrily. He eyes Paul and Bill who shrugs.

“Oh hey, Sam” Ted greets. “What i-” He was unfortunately interrupted by a fist flying at his face. His eyes immediately begin to water as he clasps a hand to his face. Paul and Bill stand, glaring at Sam. Paul creates a barrier between Ted and Sam, while Bill checks on his friend. Paul's first mistake was doing anything.

“You want some too?” Sam asked he shoves Paul backward, landing another punch.

“Hey!” A voice shouts, the students that had gathered turn to the voice. Henry emerges with their principal. “What is going on here?” he questions firm, his eyes widen when he sees Bill crouching helping Ted. He glares at Sam “Main office, now” He seethes. Sam grunts but follows the principal. Henry turns to the crowd, who all scatter upon his fiery eyes. He moves towards Paul helping him up “You alright?” Paul rubs his head nodding.

“Oh my god! Are you both ok? I'm so sorry!” Charlotte sobs running up to them, followed by a frantic Jackie. Ted winces looking up at her, he tries his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“Ok, you both need to get to the nurse” Jackie states, no duh.

“Agreed,” Henry says kneeling in front of Ted, Bill goes to check on Paul. Henry examines his injuries. He blinks at his father, feeling very woozy. Henry shakes his head helping Ted up. Bill and Jackie help Paul. They walk towards the nurse with a very worried and caring Charlotte following behind.

~~~

“Well, I'm sure he deserved it” Emma huffs, Bill exhales sharply.

“Emma I'm not kidding, Paul got seriously hurt” He informs, she turns pursing her lips. Her face, unreadable.

“He actually got punched?”

“Yes now, will you please come to the nurse's office?” She nods following Bill down the hall. He leads her into one of the rooms where Paul lays on the nurse's bed. “I gotta go find Tommy” He mumbles ushering her inside, briskly leaving. She moves towards the bed smiling sadly at him, she can't tell if he's awake.

“Hey Matthews, heard you got punched” She whispers softly, sitting next to him on a stool. He gives her a goofy grin, holding an ice pack to his face.

“I did, are you proud of me?” He asks, she chuckles softly. She leans in kissing him softly on the lips. Taking his hand as they pull away.

“No, you're a fucking idiot” She responds, he laughs instantly seizing in pain. “You're my idiot though…” She says rubbing his hand comfortingly. He nods clearly proud. He begins poking her softly

“Hey, hey, hey you know what we should do?” he giggles asking her, is he high? “We should stop fighting...it makes me sad” He pouts, Emma kisses his hand softly.

“Hmm...I guess…” She smirks, He smiles giggly “but only cause you got punched” He gives her a proud thumbs up. She chuckles lightly, the conversation dulls as he falls asleep. She sits there until his mom comes to pick him up promptly returning to class.

~~~

“So he's under anesthesia?” Henry asked doubtfully, the nurse thought for a moment.

“Sort of, it's just something to ease the pain but it makes them woozy” She explains, he nods understanding. She leaves the room excusing herself, Henry turns back to his son who sits on the bed trying very hard to keep his eyes open. Henry wishes he could drive the boy home but unfortunately he has a full day of classes. He’s waiting for Chad, who had a day off, to come to pick him up. After a very long calming down session. Ted set his eyes on Henry, he smiled and waved. Henry chuckled at him, he waved back.

“Punched!? You got punched?!” The door swings open revealing a very distraught Tommy. He rushes over to Ted taking his face carefully, moving it around to see his injuries. Ted smiles widely, pointing at Tommy.

“It's my boyfriend!” he exclaims excited, Bill sighs. “Hi” He smiles, Tommy shuts his eyes smiling. An absolute dork. He turns to face henry.

“Is he ok? Does it hurt a lot?” He figures he should ask someone whos conscious.

“It's fine… I'm used to it” Ted slurs, Tommy turns back to him sadly “My dads were so much worse” He laughs. Tommy feels a tug at his heart, he will forever hate how casually Ted will reference his past. Henry hates it just as much, clenching his jaw at the thought of Ted's old father. Bill sighs used to these comments, Teds usually a lot more careful about it. Tommy cups his face kissing his forehead lightly. “Mmm am sleepy” He responds, Henry nods.

“Get some rest dearest” Tommy suggests, helping Henry lie Ted down. Bill grabs him another ice pack holding it on his face.

“I love you guys!” Ted squeals “Bills my best friend! Tommys my boyfriend! Dad is my dad!” He sighs happily, Tommy smiles sweetly caressing his forehead carefully. “Nighty night, call me when Pops arrives” and that's that, he falls asleep after a moment. Watched intently by Bill, Henry, and Tommy. They swear they can hear him mumble a few words here and there, including ‘Gumdrop’, ‘Tall child’, and Bills personal favorite ‘fucking useless’

~~~

5 months later….

The group walked all involved in their own conversations. Arriving at the theatre the group said goodbye to Tommy and Jackie. Charlotte gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before waving goodbye. Emma couldn't help but smile, they were so happy. They had waited around a month after the incident before getting together. They sat in their respective seats in the theatre. Paul felt a buzz from his phone.

Thing 1 and Thing 2

Thing 1: Hey nerd, heads up I'm driving us home after school today

Thing 2: Noice, why?

Thing 1: Debs coming over, so car

Thing 2: ;)

Thing 1: Fuck off dweeb

Thing 2: I won't be the one fucking tonight

Thing 1:

Thing 1: I'm going to block you now

Alice didn't but she didn't respond so Paul, naturally, assumed she was dead. Chad entered calling attention to himself clearing his throat. The class went on as scheduled, it was boring, no offense to Chad. They went their separate ways to their next class before rejoicing for lunch.

“Sup fuckers!” Ted greets plopping himself onto the table. Tommy looks up.

“Languag- What am I doing I don't care” Tommy grumbles returning his attention to his homework. Ted glances at him but ignores it.

“So what's up,” He asks opening his sacked lunch, Charlotte joins followed by Jackie. They greet her, answering Ted's question.

“Nothing much, I mean studying for finals, registering for classes next year, summer plans” Emma informs, Ted nods stuffing his face full of food. “You?”

“About the same! I'm thinking of not taking ceramics next year” He admits, Tommy glances up but doesn't say anything. “Paul?” Paul yawns nodding, Charlotte feeds Jackie a cookie.

“Um the same thing, Im...really tired” He tries, Ted nods agreeing. “Ok I'm sorry but I gotta ask” he turns to Jackie “What the fuck is up Jackie!” He yells, the group chuckles. She smiles biting her lip.

“Nothing much Matthews, what's up with you?” She chuckles, Emma rolls her eyes. Paul bounces in his seat flipping her off. She returns the favor, getting a glare from Charlotte. Ted shakes his head, he turns to Tommy who hasn't looked up from his paper. He nudges him softly, causing him to sit up.

“What?” He asks irritated, Ted holds up his hands defensively.

“Nevermind than… sorry” He turns back to his friends, Tommy focuses back on his paper. Ted's heart drops a little. He looks to where Bill usually sits. Bills been attending book club regularly. He seems to enjoy it but Ted misses him on days he's not there. Lunch passes quickly, and so does the rest of the day. Emma says farewell to Paul, walking home. Charlotte and Jackie walking with her, the trio having a study session. Ted waits by his locker for Tommy, instead being met with Bill. He says farewell, waiting a little longer but ultimately his boyfriend never shows. He heads home alone, his parents needing to stay after school. Paul catches a ride with Alice, teasing his sister all the way home. In five months not much has changed, but it was about to.

#sycamore high #tgwdlmhs #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #musical theatre #theatre #starkid #robert manion #jaime lyn beatty #jon matteson #joey richter #corey dorris #lauren lopez #mariah rose faith #my writing #writing #ao3 #archive of our own

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tiip2ydoodles · 6 years

Text

Anamnesis

I’m so excited to finally unveil this MASSIVE story I wrote for @beforuszine! It was so much fun to work alongside everyone in the project and I’m really happy with the way it turned out.

Download the Zine [HERE] and see the rest of the artwork! Everyone did an amazing job and I hope I get to work on more projects with them in the future! 😻😻😻

The sun rose slowly over the horizon at five thirty-two in the morning, painting the cream walls of a small apartment bedroom a warm peachy color.

With the sun’s rays came a lazy, sluggish sort of heat, a humidity and warmth that thickened the air and stopped the wind. The heat rolled across the pavement outside the apartment and onto the grass, carried by the sun’s rising light that turned the sky a soft orange, then pink, then finally a vibrant blue. The open curtains shifted with the meager wind that managed to fight its way through the muggy morning heat, whispering as the soft material rubbed against itself, almost silent.

Certainly inaudible to the two trolls that occupied the room.

The king-size bed shoved into a corner held them both, curled up around one another, clutching tightly. Legs tangled together, hands gripped at baggy, rolled-up pajama shirts. Grey skin flushed yellow and teal with the warmth of the sun and the soft breaths that spread across neck and cheek alike. One twitched, mumbling something tiredly, and the other drew closer as if to silence them.

That silence would stay until precisely five forty-five.

The tinkling chime of a phone alarm began at exactly the minute mark. A thunderous vibration rattled across the nightstand that silenced the birds outside and sent them all aflutter to escape the horrid drone. Wake up! The screen of the phone read.

A groan rose from one of the pair. The sound of shifting blankets signalled untangling limbs, jerky movements from the tired bodies that as of yet were unaccustomed to wakefulness. Four horns poked themselves from under the blankets, attached to one impressively tousled head of hair. Its owner reached up a spider-like hand, nails painted red and bitten to the quick, and ran it across his scalp as if this would somehow tame the tangles that sleep had gifted him. Instead, all it did was get his hand caught.

“Son of a bitch!”

His voice was louder even than the still-ringing alarm, sharp and lisping. At its sound a sleepy mumble rose from the pair of pointed cone horns buried under the blankets beside him. The other troll of the inseparable pair roused, sitting up and getting a good look at her surroundings. Seeing her mate in his predicament she smiled tiredly, carefully pulled the tangled hand from its trap. Unlike him, her nails remained unpainted and neatly trimmed, as well taken care of as the rest of her.

“Shhhh. You’ll scare the birds.” Latula murmured in a sleep-husky voice. A low grunt left her as she stretched, arching her back and shivering in satisfaction as it pops back into place. The tinkling chime of the phone began to annoy her and she reached over to shut it off.

Mituna, the tousle-haired yellowblood, buries his face into her shoulder, still clearly too groggy to even consider leaving the bed. She chuckles softly and wraps her arms around his waist, leaning as much into him as he is into her. If either one of them were to move away from their position now, the other would surely fall.

“I’ll scare your birds in a minute.” He replies, muffled against her skin.

She laughs and ruffles his hair, careful of the tangles. “Sure you will. Come on, it’s time to get up.”

“Hell no.”

Latula frowned and carefully shifted to give Mituna her best disappointed face. Knowing exactly what was coming, he turned his scarred eyes down and away, refusing to meet her gaze. After all, the look wasn’t there if he couldn’t see it, right?

“Mituna.” She said sternly. Even he can’t ignore the sound of her voice. He groans, nuzzling himself into her chest, pushing her back onto the bed and wrapping his arms around her. He squeezes tightly and refuses to let go, whining. “Mituna, oof - come on. It’s not that bad. It’s not like I’m asking you to run a marathon.”

“I wanna run a marathon.” He grumbled, hiding against her collarbone. “No waking up. Just sleep. It’s too early.”

Latula sighed. They went through this every morning, she wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Giving in, she curled up around him and pulled him close, hitting the snooze button on the next alarm. Mituna heard the distinct ping and smiled, kissing her collar sweetly. She huffed at him and gave one of his horns a gentle flick.

“It’s only an hour. Don’t get excited.” She murmured.

Nonetheless, Latula pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and closed her eyes. Silence fell over the small bedroom yet again and the birds, sensing the relative peace, began their chorus anew. Despite herself, Latula felt her eyes beginning to drift shut. The sound of soft snoring from her mate was her farewell back into sleep.

Latula is a tiny thing, barely four feet tall at four sweeps, with a bandaid on her chin.

Her lusus tells her, “Don’t play around at the skatepark. Watch where you’re going. Don’t forget to wear a helmet when you ride your two wheeled device.” The massive white dragon she calls a parent lovingly pats her helmeted head with a clawed wing, setting her off outside with a cheerful squawk and a puff of smoke from her nostrils. With pursed lips, Latula grabs the handlebars and rides off down the street.

It’s warm; the vernal equinox is long past, sliding lazily into the late solstice seasons when even the nights are unbearably hot. Latula feels grateful for the breeze that brushes past her face as she rides, flicking her ponytail almost playfully, whistling past her ears. The pink moon overhead shines brightly against the backdrop of stars, casting a warm glow over the street and causing long shadows to creep their way out from under Latula and her bike. With no one else out, she almost feels alone in the world, and she can’t tell if that’s a good feeling or not.

Once at the skate park Latula never wants to ride her two wheeled device. Instead it’s ditched near the entrance, hidden in the bushes from thieves and rowdy older trolls who would seek to bother her. She keeps her helmet on - not out of any concern for safety, but purely because something much more important makes her forget to take it off in her excitement. Something that made her come back every day, drop her device like an embarrassing eyesore, and hide near the jungle gym.

Not something - someone.

It’s a yellowblood, a lanky thing with four horns and bright two-toned eyes. His clothes are a horrid clash of primary colours, shorts and a T-shirt dirty with dust from the half-pipes he’s been riding all day. He and his other friends - mostly lowbloods as well - ride the pipes with a grace and ease that say they’ve been doing this for a long while. When he rides the upturn Latula can see his sneakers are mismatched, the same colours as his eyes, with bright yellow strings.

However, despite their loud palette, his clothes aren’t what lead Latula to stare at him from afar each day. It’s the utter joy on his face, the uneven fangs sticking out of his mouth when he smiles so gleeful and triumphant. It’s his voice, whooping and hollering with every downward leap into the pipe like a stereotypical lowblooded hooligan, eyes tearing up yellow with the wind that whips his hair into a frenzied mess. It’s the bloodied knees and hands, no padding, all concern for safety gone out the window. It’s the way he moves with the board in utter synchrony, leaning into it like he was made to ride it. There’s a grace to the yellowblood’s movements that reminds Latula of water, the way it laps at sand and crashes to the shore in great and terrifying waves.

The yellowblood glances her way and there’s a wild smile on his face. Latula gasps, ears turning a light teal, and hides herself away.

Maybe some night she’ll introduce herself, but tonight is not that night.

Sunrises on Earth, Latula’s come to learn, are nowhere near as harsh as the ones on Beforus had been.

The sounds and warmth of the morning roused her not fifteen minutes later as, with the rising of the sun, the world began to come to life. The sound of clinking wooden chimes hung in the window and birds chirping in the nearby oak tree sang the morning’s usual song. Cars outside added their dull rumble and a lawnmower directly underneath them hummed a low bass note to the sweet tune. It made Latula’s ears twitch and a comfortable sort of peace weigh on her body as if to say stay in bed today. There’s no rush. Just enjoy the morning.

The smell of coffee and bacon, however, pulled her from the warmth of her bed.

Mituna was nowhere to be found, the bedsheets beside her rumpled but empty. Her brows furrowed, lips pursing. Mituna always overslept, that was basically a given at this point. Even before his accident he’d overslept. For him to be up before Latula - and making what smelled like a delicious breakfast - was almost unheard of.

With a yawn and a stretch Latula sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. It needed a cut soon, she noted as her brain began to slowly chug to life. Slowly, she pushed herself out of her bed and wiggled her feet into her teal slippers. Mornings had never agreed with either one of them, but Latula was always the morning grump. That was just how it went. How Mituna managed to bounce out of the bed in the morning like a literal ball of sunshine was constantly beyond her imagining.

Glancing at the clock, Latula let out a low groan. She had been the one to oversleep this time.

“Tuney,” She called, shuffling zombielike from the bedroom and forcing back another yawn, hiding it behind her hand. “Tune, are you making breakfast? How long have you been u--oh.”

There, in the kitchen, stood Mituna. Fluffy-haired, grinning wildly, flipping pancakes. Wearing nothing but a very cliched apron that read Kiss the Cook. He spotted Latula leaning against the kitchen doorway and his two-tone eyes sparkled like jewels. If it was even possible, his mouth seemed to stretch into an even bigger smile.

“Hey, Tulip, check it out!” He said, his normally lisping voice slurred even further by the early morning’s tiredness and a lack of caffeination. “I did it! I’ve been practising for ever and I finally got it! I flipped the pancake!”

He looked so proud of himself. Latula couldn’t even bring herself to be angry about the splatters of pancake batter that covered the kitchen counters, or the fact that he was buck-ass naked in front of the stove. She shook her head and grinned, folding her arms.

“You flipped the pancake,” She said, reaching over and trying to get a glop of batter from Mituna’s flyaway hair. It wasn’t working all that well. “Not a bad job, Tuney. Did you put chocolate chips in them?”

“Damn straight.” He pointed to the little brown dots that littered the breakfast treat sizzling away in the pan. “It’s not good without chocolate chips. Tastes like dirt and flour.” He wrinkled his nose, sticking out his tongue and Latula laughed.

“Yeah, that’s fair. We’re gonna need a shower after breakfast, though. You’re covered in batter - and where are your boxers? I swear you went to bed with a pair on.”

Mituna shook the pancake in the pan, avoiding Latula’s eyes. She folded her arms, one hip cocked to the side as she watched him get more and more uneasy. He squirmed under her gaze and she knew that he wouldn't be long breaking. Then--

“Fiiiiine,” He admitted finally. “They’re too tight. I left ‘em in the respiteblock. Clothes are dumb anyway.” With a dramatic flair he pointed the spatula at Latula, a cocky grin on his face and mischief in his eyes. “You should take yours off too. Come on! Strip! Strip or no pancakes.”

Latula snorted. “Ha! You wish. I’ll save the stripping for the bath.” She said, taking the spatula from him daintily and turning over the pancake before it burnt to the dry bottom of the pan. She added more butter and the teflon sizzled, smoke rising in the air as the butter melted and turned a bitter brown. Mituna hissed and covered his ears, moving back away from the pan with a disgruntled expression.

“Sorry for the noise, babe.” Latula waved the buttery spatula towards the table. “Get us some plates, Tuney? I’ll finish up here.”

“But I wanted to make breakfast for you!” Mituna’s protest came out a little more whiny than he would have liked to admit, but it still melted Latula’s heart anyway. His lips pursed in a sulky expression and the kicked-barkbeast look he wore was enough to make even Latula back down. With a soft expression she sighed, turning down the stove to a respectable temperature and pouring the batter for another pancake. When she was done, she handed Mituna back the spatula and kissed him sweetly. He smiled into the kiss, knowing he’d won.

It wasn’t as if Latula ever won against his puppy look, anyway.

Latula heard the hit before she saw it.

The sound of fists meeting flesh was not one she was accustomed to, but it was nonetheless unmistakable. She would have thought nothing of it, continuing on her nightly bike ride to the park, but then she heard something else that made her already cool blood freeze in her veins. Cries of pain in an all too familiar voice; a voice that Latula normally heard whooping and cheering as its owner dove headfirst down ramps and came up the other side, sailing through the air.

A kind of anger flooded Latula's pan and her tires skidded on the dirt trail that led to the park as she whirled around. Her legs throbbed, pedaling as hard as she could to race back towards the source of the sound.

Her suspicions were confirmed. There, lying just off the path, a cluster of higher-blooded trolls gathered in a circle around a familiar yellow-jacketed target. He had his hands over his head, bandaged knees tucked in towards the core of his body to try and avoid getting any more kicks to the stomach. It didn't work; someone got him from behind and he cried out again, shouting curses and spitting vehemently at the group. It only caused them to jeer louder, encouraging their antics.

Latula, a tiny, scrappy little tealblood, had no chance against the three blues and a violet that threatened the object of her hidden obsession. But that wasn't about to stop her; she sped forward with an angry holler on her lips, her front tire aimed directly for the ringleader of the group.

Two or three of them looked up and their eyes widened. Like a synchronized ballet they all dove out of the way, yelling in fear of the crazy little wriggler speeding towards them at a breakneck pace. If she didn't hurt them, she was certain to hurt herself with how insane she was acting. But she didn't care; the bluebloods scattered and Latula stumbled off her bike, lunging at the violet with teeth bared and an angry scream on her lips.

It worked. The violet looked about to piss himself as he raced back, tripping over a rock behind him and scrambling on all fours like a pinchbeast to get away from her. She smiled, all victorious fangs and scraped-up hands and knees. Her body hurt from the fall she'd taken but her heart was racing and she felt proud to have done something good. Slowly she got to her feet, panting and feeling adrenaline course through her body

"Are you okay?" She asked the yellowblood, who still sat dumbfounded on the ground. He stared up at her and Latula took a moment to simply admire his two-toned eyes. Red and blue, she decided, were her two favorite colours. Even though she was still breathing heavily she leaned down, reaching out a hand to help him up.

He hesitated. Latula was frightened for a moment that he would call her out, get angry for acting like a culler. Her blood colour suddenly became very prominent in her mind and anxiety bells rang. Was this something a culler would do? Was this even okay? Did he think that she was just doing this to coddle him?

Then he smiled wide. He laughed, reaching up and taking her hand, pushing himself up off the ground.

"That was awesome!" He cheered. "Did you see them running? Man, you were like an angry hornbeast! I've never seen anything like that before!" The energy that he exuded as he fist-pumped the air made it look as if he hadn't been injured at all, despite the newly forming bruises she'd seen as his jacket pulled away from his stomach. He didn't even seem to care. "Damn, Teal! That was the best thing I've seen all week."

Latula's cheeks went a bright blue and she smiled sheepishly. Well, at least he wasn't angry. To have the object of her affections cheering her on for a momentary lapse of judgement, though, that was...something else.

"Thanks," She said, rather shyly. "I, uh....I hope I didn't hurt you with my bike or anything."

"Nah." The yellowblood waved her off. "Nothing I haven't done to myself before. I'm Mituna, by the way."

His smile was adorably gap-toothed as he held out a hand to shake. He must have chipped a fang recently. Latula thought it was one of the most adorable things she'd ever seen. Her ears perked up, turning teal as she reached out a shaking hand and clasping his in her own. "Latula."

"Latula, huh?" His smile didn't even fade for a second. "Sounds like a flower. Do you skate any?"

Latula shook her head no. Mituna laughed.

"What are you doing near a skate park if you can't skate? Do you do any rad tricks on your bike?"

Another shake of her head. "I just like to watch."

Mituna's smile became a little gentler then. He let go of her hand, picking up his board and her bike, handing the latter back to her. "Well, let's go change that." He said, walking towards the park. Latula's eyes widened. Without a second thought she trotted along right behind him.

"Don't forget your pills!"

Mituna's voice echoed down the hall from Latula as she finished clearing away the dishes. The pancakes had been slightly burnt, but a little bit of syrup had fixed them right up. Sometimes she forgot just how good of a cook Mituna had been before his accident. He was getting there again, too. She reminded herself to praise him a little more on it. After all, Mituna loved praise on anything, and she loved seeing the way his face lit up when he'd done something right.

He was doing a lot more things right lately. Latula was amazed at just how much a new world and a new life had begun to heal him in so little time. Then again, stagnance was never good for anything except bringing out the worst in people. Even bright, sunshiney people like Mituna fell victim.

"Can do, toots. Go on up, I'll be there in a minute. I just wanna scrub this pan before anything gets caked." Latula called back to him.

"Hurry up! Just let it soak!" Mituna sounded impatient and she sighed, shaking her head and putting the pan back in the hot water.

"Fine, fine." She said. Her arm was aching anyway from trying ineffectually to get the sticky bits of chocolate off the pan. It could soak for a little while, she supposed. Not everything had to be done right away. Rolling her shoulder, she reached into the cabinet on top of the fridge and pulled out a small orange bottle. Her nose wrinkled as she dumped one pill out into her palm and tossed it into her mouth. It went down rather stickily since she'd dry-swallowed, but at least it went down this time. She put the pills back, seeing another bottle and hesitating.

"Did you take your pills?" Latula called up to Mituna.

"What?"

"I said," She yelled a little louder. "Did you take your pills?"

"Yes!"

"Okay." She closed the cupboard door and headed up the stairs. Clothes were strewn throughout the hallway as if Mituna had stripped on his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. He sat in the already full tub with a big grin hidden under the bubbles.His ears wiggled and Latula huffed, hands on her hips.

"I don't trust that look on your face." She said, tugging off her shirt.

"What look?" Mituna asked innocently. "I don't have a look on my face, unless you count my normal gorgeousness."

Latula snorted. She wasn't about to debate his attractiveness, though, not when he was wiggling impatiently and waiting for her to hop into the tub. The water was comfortably lukewarm to combat the heat of the summer day outside, splashing slightly over the rim of the tub. Mituna had overfilled it accidentally. With her toe Latula tugged on the bath plug, letting some of the water slip through without Mituna noticing. It didn't work that well; the tub gave an obnoxious sucking noise and she winced. Mituna didn't seem to notice.

"Did you take your pill?" He asked, looking down at her as she settled comfortably into his lap. She leaned back against him and he raised wet hands, stroking them through her hair to dampen it.

"Yeah." She said, tilting her head back to look up at him and pressing a kiss to his chin. He beamed happily at her.

"Good. No forgetting our pills. The human mediculler said so."

A soft hum left Latula and she let him play with her hair. It was nice, sometimes, to have him look after her and worry about her. Sometimes it bugged her, but the more she went to therapy the fewer and further between those moments were. Now she just enjoyed the quiet, peaceful moments where she didn't have to move or think, just feel the softness of his hands as they combed tenderly through her hair and wove it into messy but well-intentioned braids.

That reminded her...

"You have therapy today," She said, opening one eye to look at him. "Feeling up to going this time? It's okay if you're not."

Mituna gave a thoughtful hum. He'd missed the last two, they both knew that, but the therapist he saw was more than understanding. She was patient, and kind, and never faulted him for missing appointments he didn't have the energy to make. Latula was seriously considering switching therapists to see his.

Finally, after a moment's silence, Mituna nodded. "Yeah." He said. "Yeah I can go today. Today's a good day."

Latula beamed at him and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Proud of you." She murmured softly.

Mituna blushed, fumbled with her hair and looked away. "'S just an appointment." He said, flustered. "Missed the last couple, it's not like I'm doin' all that great--"

He found himself hushed by another soft kiss. He would have protested, but Latula's lips were soft and cool and just the right amount of plush. Plus, she still tasted like chocolate and syrup. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

A meteor struck Latula's treehouse hive. She swore, a panicked note to her voice.

"Tuna!" She said through her headset, watching her screen frantically. "Tuna, come on, get through! I can't jump until you do!"

"I can't!" If Latula sounded scared, he was downright terrified. Frozen in place, Latula watched as he struggled to climb onto the roof of the impossibly large hive they'd built to reach his [insert name for portal thing here]. Her heart stopped as he slipped from the tile, grabbing on with one desperate hand and crying out in absolute terror. She cried out with him. "I can't do it! Tulip, help me!"

"I can't - I don't know what to do!" Her breaths were coming quick and heavy now and her heart hammered in her ears. Across the keyboard her fingers trembled, misspelling words as she typed frantic, panicky pleas for help to anyone in her session. No one listened. Why wouldn't anyone listen? Even Cronus had vanished - where was he?! He was supposed to be here!

On the screen Mituna had managed to swing himself up. Okay. Okay, this was going a little better. He could do this. They could do this. Latula watched him as he scrambled over the multiple rooftops and balcony railings in a half-assed attempt at parkour. Over her headphones she could hear his claws scraping against the sandpaper tiles as he scrabbled onto the final level of the toppling building. Her heart swelled with elation.

"Yes!" She cried, then clapped her hands over her mouth realizing that she'd screamed straight into the microphone. "Sorry, Tune!"

"It's okay!" Mituna sounded breathless and just as elated as she felt. "Okay - okay, I think I can lift myself from here, it's just a jump, right?" He tilted his head to look up at the portal above him. It seemed a mile away. How long had it been since he'd used his psi? Too long for something like this. He was out of practise. Fucking cullers.

"Yeah, just a jump!" Latula frantically worked at her own computer, glancing at the other feeds from the ten trolls that'd been roped into this with them. They were the last ones to go through. She scrambled to the top of her hive, struggling to keep her husktop steady. "Okay. Okay, you jump, and then I'll be right behind you in just a minute, okay? We might lose connection for a minute--"

Mituna wasn't listening. Latula heard the telltale crackle of his psi and the next moment, he was launching himself through the air towards the gate. She could see him rocketing towards it one minute, and the next - the next the feed was cut off.

He'd made it.

Latula sighed with relief and hung her head. The husktop, now useless, fell to the wayside and bounced off the precariously build hive with a firm crack. Latula looked up at her own gate and, with a loud grunt of effort, threw herself at it..

"Ready to go?"

Mituna's voice broke Latula from her reverie. In the time that it'd taken her to pull on her clothes he'd already braided her hair, pulled his own into a messy ponytail, and gotten his clothes on. Even his shoes were tied. Latula remembered a time when he couldn't even pull his jumpsuit off, but here he was sporting a pair of board shorts, a baggy tanktop and his old mismatched shoes and everything was on right and tidy. Her chest clenched. Pride swelled up inside her. Slowly she stood up, grabbing her shoes.

"Yeah, just give me a sec, babe." She murmured. Mituna fidgeted impatiently and whined.

"Come on, slowpoke!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, hold on." Latula stood and stretched, feeling her back pop from where she'd been hunched over her shoelaces for the last age and a half. Mituna tangled one arm with hers, keys already in hand, and half-dragged her to the door.

"You're so spacey today." He pointed out. When Latula gave him a confused look, he very obviously rolled his eyes and huffed as he tried to find the words to explain. "You're all - thinking about other things. Your pan isn't in your head, Tulip!"

"Where else would my pan be?" She teased him and he groaned aloud.

"You know what I mean."

Latula glanced at him, his expectant expression. She smiled warmly. He'd changed so much, but at the same time, not at all. She almost wished that she could see herself through his eyes, wondering if she'd changed any since they'd met. Who did he see when he looked at her?

That didn't really matter. Whatever he saw, clearly he still loved it. Loved her. She kissed his forehead sweetly and he bumped noses with her in an attempt to make the kiss meet his lips. She laughed and kissed him there, too.

"Doesn't matter, babe." She said. "Come on. We've got stuff to do today."

The question seemed to vanish from Mituna's mind. He nodded, stealing one more kiss as he opened the door.

"Ladies first?" He said.

Latula laughed and stepped outside.

#beforuszine #Beforus Zine #Latula Pyrope #Mituna Captor #Homestuck #My writing

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rainythefox · 6 years

Text

Deviant Heart (Detroit: Become Human Fanfic CH.14)

Chapter 14: They Come in the Night

Connor kept running, moving through streets and alleyways. He looked over his shoulder almost constantly, paranoid the RK900 or the rogue would be there to reclaim him. He dashed across busy streets, ignoring honks his way. After he was sure he put several blocks between him and the abandoned school, he slowed down.

[Stress Level: 83%]

His LED cycled on yellow and wouldn't change. Connor reached out to Simon. The same bad feedback frizzled his inner skull. He couldn't reach anyone. Then it hit Connor. It wasn't the school that prevented him from calling out for help. They had actually damaged his communications.

A quick diagnostic scan confirmed this for him.

He tried to call Hank, but he was unlinked from his cell phone. Rett apparently had been thorough to keep Connor from getting help.

Cursing, the RK800 assessed his options. He couldn't go to the Central Station, not if everyone thought he was the one who killed those officers. Hank probably wasn't home. Knowing him, his partner was running himself ragged looking for Connor still, upon finding out the truth of the rogue.

Jericho Center was a good choice, but his friends were most likely not there. Simon, North, and Josh would know about Markus by now.

He would have to call Hank by a public phone and talk to him that way. He just hoped his partner would answer…and believe it was him.

Connor strode through the streets, looking for an open business this late at night. The glare of passing headlights on the road was the most activity he saw. The occasional human or android walked by or hung out at the entrance to alleyways. Some eyed him warily, their stares making him uncomfortable, and so he sped up his steps. Drones flew overhead, patrolling the streets and nearby businesses. Connor kept his head low and avoided them. The drones could identify him with a simple scan.

Two androids walked by, engaged in conversation. As they passed by, Connor saw the flicker of a white light. Grunting, he looked over his shoulder, but their LEDs were blue.

Connor entered the first business he saw open, worry clawing his inner biocomponents. It was a small bar, and it was crowded. Old 80s music played on the stereo, and the mingling of human voices as they talked bounced off the walls. Most of the occupants paid him no mind, and so the RK800 walked over to the nearest bartender.

"May I use your phone?"

He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music and crowd. The bartender turned away to get the phone. As he waited, he glanced up at the muted news playing on a flatscreen.

The headline read: CyberLife Antivirus Program Available Now. The closed captioning text sliding across the screen explained the antivirus could be installed at any android repair center in Detroit, as well as Jericho Center. With its release today, hundreds of androids had already been cured of the virus. Although sick android attacks were still happening, a statement from CyberLife promised a decline in these attacks would be seen within 24 hours.

Connor thought back to Rett. The ex-researcher seemed bent on pegging the virus on CyberLife and Kamski. He wanted to expose Kamski using Markus and Kara. It baffled him. Connor could see the link to Markus, knowing his friend had been a secret prototype from an unnamed project years ago. But what good would it do to expose that now? And that didn't explain Kara's purpose either.

Seeing that an antivirus to Rett's creation had been produced should've relieved Connor, but as he watched the news program, a coldness dropped in his chest, spreading through his circuits.

Connor felt the circulation of cool air, and looked to the front where the door was. He stiffened, seeing two police officers looking around, having just entered the bar. Connor slowly backed away from the counter, one police officer spotting him. He spoke into his radio strapped on his chest.

Calling Hank would have to wait.

He turned away, trying to act inconspicuous. He rubbed his fingertips at his sides, LED blinking yellow as he thought. With the police officers standing at the front door, he only had a 21% chance of escape that way. He had to go out the back.

Connor moved through the bar, raucous laughs and hollering a constant distraction. He squeezed by shoulders and arms carrying drinks. As he rounded a doorway into the posterior area of the bar where the restrooms and game lounge were, he saw the glowing exit sign hovering above the back door.

Connor pushed the door open and left. He quickened his pace once out in the night, taking the alleyway around to the front of the building. He heard running footsteps as he turned onto the west side of the bar, the officers coming up behind him.

"Hold it right there!"

Connor froze, keeping his back to them.

"Turn around and keep your hands where we can see them."

His lips twitched, hands raising halfway as he slowly turned around. "It wasn't me. It was a different RK800."

"Shut up," the second police officer said. "We know it's the virus. Now keep quiet and no sudden moves or we will shoot."

"S-Shoot?" He took a step back, despite the two gun barrels directed at his chest. "I have rights. I'm telling you, it wasn't me. You have to believe me."

"I said shut up!"

The other cop approached him, lowering his gun to get out his handcuffs. The other one remained vigilant with his weapon trained on Connor. He couldn't let them arrest him. He wouldn't be able to save Markus or stop Rett and Amanda if he was taken in.

So he did what his preconstruction came up with when the other officer went to handcuff him. Connor snatched him, a quick blow to the stomach knocking the air from him. Connor twisted him around to be a shield to the other officer, knowing he wouldn't risk shooting his partner. He took the handcuffs that were meant for him and slapped them on the cop instead.

"Hey!"

The other officer ran forward to engage Connor. As he attacked, Connor popped him in the face, evading two punches from the cop. The RK800 gauged the officer's movements and when the right instant came, a swift clout to the head knocked the cop out cold.

The handcuffed cop rushed him, yelling out. Connor sidestepped and tripped him to the ground, then knelt next to his unconscious partner to steal his cell phone. Police sirens echoed a few blocks away, getting closer by the second. As the handcuffed cop groaned, kicking his legs to get up, Connor hurried past him.

"I'm sorry!"

Connor stuck to the shadows, avoiding main roads and areas heavily populated at night, hoping to lose the police. The threat of being caught drove him to run another three blocks towards the river.

His stress level was high. Even after losing his pursuers, he kept on the move, avoided the open. The police would be hunting him all night now. He had to be careful.

Connor withdrew the stolen cell phone. He dialed Hank's number, hoping for an answer.

Hank restlessly tapped his fingers on his thighs as he sat in the chair. He'd never been in this part of Kamski's villa before. A curved flatscreen took up an entire wall of one side of the large den, mounted around an expensive audio system. There was a full self-serving bar near a panoramic window that presented a tranquil view of Detroit River. A fireplace was to the side of Hank, the head of a grizzly bear mounted overhead with bearing teeth hanging over him.

Chloe sat by herself on the long, leather couch in front of the flatscreen, working on the encrypted note. Hank, Elijah, Simon, North, and Josh sat around each other near the bar in expensive leather chairs, a glass table in the center of them.

Hank eyed Elijah as he took a drink of whiskey from a glass while he worked on his tablet. He had excused himself to check something on the device not even ten minutes ago. Hank sighed, taking a sip of his own drink, feeling exhaustion sweep over him.

He rubbed at his eyes, the stress of the day weighing him down. It was days like this he was glad Sumo had a dog door to the backyard, and hoped his old boy wasn't missing him and Connor too much.

He shifted his sights. North was restless like him, picking at her fingers, pursing her lips in thought. Simon rubbed his palms on his legs, head lowered. Josh looked to be the most patient, staring out the window into the darkness of night outside.

They had been waiting at Kamski's villa for Chloe to finish the decryption for over an hour.

Hang in there Connor…I'm coming for you…

"So, Simon," Kamski said, laying his tablet down and lacing his fingers together, elbows propped on the chair. "How's the antivirus program working?"

"It's been working well. We're still getting androids in who are infected, but just today we've managed to cure many androids. Josh and I worked on that all day today until the attack on Markus came up. My staff has taken over while we are here."

"That was quick work creating the antivirus," Josh said. "Did you come up with it yourself? Was the virus complicated?"

"It was Chloe and a small, trusted team, mostly," Elijah said, a lip corner tugging up. "I had other work that needed my attention. I was, however, able to read the coding of the virus. Rett's beginning phase wasn't complicated at all. There was no direction to it, just well-structured execution codes to attack androids' processors and software. To change their behavior, make them erratic and violent. But as the coding changed, so did the complexity of its structure and execution, causing drastic altercations in the virus itself."

"In English, please," Hank groaned.

Kamski took a drink, eyes twinkling, amused. "I mean that Rett's virus went from attacking androids and making them go crazy, to something much more advanced."

"Advanced how?" North asked.

"It's all about control now."

"Control?" Simon grunted. "You mean Rett wants to control the infected androids?"

Kamski stared at his glass, whisking the alcohol around. "It looks that way. But it doesn't sit well with me."

"Why?" Hank asked.

"Rett is a highly intelligent man, but this…this was above his level. Someone else rewrote that coding." After glancing them over and seeing their worried faces, Elijah waved it off with a half-laugh. "Of course, with this antivirus program, we have nothing to worry about."

Hank and the others exchanged looks, unsure.

"Hank told me about one of our infected friends on the drive over here. Markus should've been infected by him a couple days ago, but he didn't. Care to explain why?" Simon asked.

A sly smile and Elijah downed the rest of his drink. "What is there to explain? You know that Markus is a prototype that I developed years ago. He's more advanced than most. Only the RK800s can match him as far as most abilities and specs go. I mean really, is it that much of a surprise to you? Your leader can convert androids just by being around them."

"Does that have anything to do with why Rett would want him?" Hank asked, eyes narrowing.

Kamski caught his glare, challenging him with his own. "I'm sure, but I wouldn't know the precise reasoning why."

Hank sighed. By this point, he was sure Kamski could kill a man and talk his way out of punishment. It made Hank wonder exactly how much they could trust him in any of this. What Hank knew for sure, however, is that Kamski knew way more than he would tell. At all times.

Ringing erupted in his pocket. Hank blinked, it taking a moment to register it was his cell phone. He dug it out, expecting to see a call from Jeffrey or the station, but the number was unknown. He stared at the number, the ring chiming again, the light of the touch screen burning his eyes.

He almost let it go to voicemail, but something within him told him to answer. He hit the button and put the phone to his ear.

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson speaking."

"Hank! I was starting to think you wouldn't answer!"

Hank jumped to his feet, the voice resonating in his chest and making his heart jump with him. "CONNOR! Is it really you?!"

"Y-Yes, it's me. Really me, not the rogue. I barely got away, but now the police are hunting me."

"Where are you?"

"West Side Industrial, near the river."

"Meet me at-" Hank bit his tongue.

Simon shook his head, eyes wide. He pointed at his temple, telling Hank that the PL600 couldn't get ahold of his partner. It would explain the strange phone number.

"Hank, please. It's really me." Connor sounded desperate. "My communications were damaged by Rett or by the rogue, I-I'm not quite sure."

Hank's heart fell to the pit of his stomach, making him sick. He didn't know what to think. It could be the rogue luring him into a trap. But what if it really was his Connor? Hank cursed inwardly. Why couldn't he tell the difference? He should be able to see it, to hear it! To know his Connor without the shadow of any doubt.

There was only one way to find out. He would have to meet him somewhere, and take caution doing it. But if it was his Connor, he couldn't risk saying the location in case his phone was tapped by the FBI searching for him.

Hank thought hard, and took a deep breath. He spoke slowly into the phone, calmly reciting words he knew his Connor heard before. "I used to come here a lot before…"

He hung up, pocketing the cell phone. He dug out his keys. Simon, North, and Josh rose to their feet while Kamski watched them curiously, fixing his hair.

"Hank, I cannot get ahold of Connor. It has to be the rogue again."

"Me neither," North said. "It could be a trap!"

"I have to make sure," Hank said, resolved. "If it's the rogue, then I will kill him."

Simon tried to appeal to Hank. "At least take one of us with you. We can tell you right away if it's Connor or not."

"No, stay here. Whatever that note says, you three have to be ready for it. Besides, I cannot put you in danger if it is that fucker with a trap ready. This is my deal. I'll either be back with the real Connor, or…"

He trailed off, grimacing. He left the villa, getting into his car and speeding out towards the Ambassador Bridge.

Riverside Park was empty, silent in the haze of shadow and starlight. The playground wasn't as inviting in the darkness, the wind causing metal hinges and chains to cry out for playmates.

Connor stared into the dark water of the river, leaning on the iron railing that lined the perimeter of the park. The wind swept through with an eerie call, churning waves and sloshing water onto the banks below.

This was where Hank wanted to meet. He came here to think on days that pulled him into the past. But Hank and Connor also came here after long days to enjoy the view and converse, on the same bench that months ago Hank sat on asked Connor what he really was. Connor recalled the gun in between his eyes, the hard stare of a broken man as he questioned a machine if he was afraid to die.

Ambassador Bridge loomed in the distance, casting a lighted path to another world across the canal.

Connor looked to the sky, the stars bright across a black, infinite canvas. He felt so small looking at them. Their beauty and endless radiance a spectrum he couldn't comprehend, but could surely admire. He could certainly see why Hank thought there was a heaven somewhere out there, and maybe, there was.

He put a hand to his chest, over the biocomponent that mimicked a heart. At least those with a soul anyway.

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, his systems overloaded with emotions. He was sure this was the worst day of his life so far. And it may never return to how it was before.

He felt so alone right now. His own co-workers hunted him down, didn't trust him. He was branded a cop killer, and his rights were muddled with the threat of the virus. His friend was captured, in danger, his other friends surely putting their lives at risk to stop this conspiracy, to save him and Markus. Connor may have escaped, but Amanda still wanted him. He would still be hunted by the RK900 and Connor 50. And his chances of escaping them were minuscule going back in to save Markus.

He needed his best friend. The man he looked up to, the one who showed him what it meant to be human, to help him understand the depth of such feelings, what it meant to be alive.

Connor knew what a family was, saw it every day. Markus had a family with Carl, Leo, North, Simon, and Josh. Hank was Connor's family. But now that he was out here, alone, exposed, he grasped it. Felt it for what it truly was. Hank was the Carl in his family, and he needed him right now.

"Hands in the air, no sudden moves."

The voice caught him off guard, having been swallowed into his inner thoughts. But he recognized it, and it dropped his stress quite a bit. His Thirium heart went up several beats, and it felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders.

He spun around, but he found Hank near his favorite bench with his weapon aimed at Connor. Connor's mouth opened, stunned, his arms slowly rising. He felt like something just ripped through his inner core.

"H-Hank, please. It's me." Connor took a step towards him.

Hank took measured steps, eyes sharp, wary. His weapon didn't falter in his hands. "I said don't move!"

No. His own family didn't trust him. The rogue destroyed everything in his life. Connor's eyes fell, the hurt in his chest congesting his functions. His hands shook, his LED going red.

[Stress level: 97%]

"It's r-really me, Hank. Please…believe me."

His whole body shook, and Connor couldn't understand what was wrong with him. His face was wet, and he looked up, thinking it was raining. There wasn't a single cloud in the night sky. He put a wobbly hand to his face and withdrew it, seeing liquid on his fingertips.

A soft moan escaped his throat, and he couldn't believe it. He was crying. For the first time in his life, he was actually crying.

Strong arms enclosed around him, pulling him in close. The hug was accompanied by a sound he cherished. Hank's heart thumped in his ear, and Connor returned the hug with a muffled cry.

"Shh, shh. I'm here, son. I'm here. Goddammit, I'm so sorry, Con. I'm sorry. I should know better! I should've known the difference! But now…now I see it. I see it, son. I won't ever doubt you again."

They stayed like that for several minutes. Connor's stress dropped significantly, and he calmed down, the tears stopping. Hank pulled back, looking him over, rubbing Connor's head.

"Are you alright?"

"No. Worst day ever."

Hank choked on a weak laugh. "Fuck yeah it is. C'mon, let's get out of here."

Connor swallowed, his LED still yellow. He walked with Hank out of the park. Hank's hand came up to pat Connor's back, his blue eyes watching him closely.

"You have to tell me what happened, b-but when you're ready, okay?"

Connor nodded.

"I sure did miss you. I thought…I thought I would never see you again."

"Me too, Hank."

As they entered the parking lot of the park, a bright light blinded them. A drone hovered overhead, an alarm blaring from its speakers. Connor froze, an arm shielding his eyes from the light. A gunshot went off, startling him. The drone dropped from the sky, crashing to the asphalt with sparks. Connor looked over, saw Hank holstering his handgun.

"Hurry!" he yelled.

They ran the rest of the way to his car. Hank turned the vehicle on and peeled out of there, heading the opposite direction of encroaching sirens.

"Hank…you'll get in trouble if they catch you helping me elude the police."

"You think I give a fuck? You're more important to me than my damn job."

Connor lowered his eyes, rubbing his hands together in his lap.

"We'll fix this, Connor. I promise."

Hank's cell phone rang. Using his elbow to drive, he fished the device out of his pocket and answered it. Connor read the signals on the phone. It was Simon. Hank put the phone on speaker and clipped it on the hands-free stand on the car's console.

"Simon, what's up?"

"Oh, Hank. You're alright. Did you find Connor? Was it really him?"

"I'm here, Simon," Connor said.

"Everything is fine. How's everything going at Kamski's?"

"Chloe finished decrypting the note. It's sorta unsettling, but…it tells of a place called Roland. That may be where Rett is hiding."

"That is correct. Roland High School. I escaped from there. Markus was with me, but I wasn't able to free him before I escaped."

They heard an "oof" from Simon, and then North's voice came through. "If that's where Markus is then we have no time to lose. Let's go. We can meet you there!"

Hank looked over at Connor. Connor shuddered at the thought of returning to the school so soon. He hadn't recovered from the trauma his day put him through. But he couldn't abandon Markus. He couldn't allow them to go in there without his help.

"We don't have to do this," Hank said softly.

Connor's fingers curled into fists on his thighs, brows furrowing. "Yeah, we do. Markus needs us. Let's do it."

"Are you sure about this?"

He thought his voice had been lost to the busy roaring of the overpass above. Hank's car was parked under the structure, and they waited in the shadows for their friends.

Connor nodded, although Hank didn't miss the unease on his partner's face. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm fine, Hank. We need to save Markus."

"I can call in the location, have the police handle it. That way no one gets hurt- or worse."

"If you can talk North and Simon out of it, sure."

Hank thinned his lips, pacing next to the car. There would be no way he could talk North and Simon into waiting. Josh was the only level-headed one. Simon was always careful, but not when it came to Markus.

"Goddammit," Hank growled, hands on his hips. "I'm not losing you again. We'll scope it out first. If we're going to be outnumbered, then I'm calling it in."

"If the rogue has his slaves with him, we will be."

Connor had explained everything to Hank while they waited for North, Simon, and Josh. He told Hank what he had learned about Rett's plans, who the fake Connor really was. It disturbed him to know that Kamski's implication on the rogue had been right on the money.

"I still don't like it that you let the RK900 go. After all he's done…you should've taken your chance and killed him."

Connor frowned, weakly shrugging. "Guess we'll find out soon whether it was a mistake or not."

Hank knew the truth. His partner didn't fear the rogue, or the RK900. He didn't fear Rett or his followers, or the androids that Connor 50 controlled. It was Amanda. He feared her gaining control over him, trapping him forever.

Hank wasn't sure how he could comfort him about it either.

"Hey, look at me," he said.

Connor's brown eyes met Hank's.

"Whatever happens…I won't let you be taken back to her. I won't let her have you. Understand?"

His partner nodded, a weak smile hinting on his lips.

When Hank had come up behind Connor at Riverside Park, he didn't know what to think. He was torn between his heart and his head. His heart told him it was his Connor, but his head told him it could be the rogue ready with a trap. He was going to ask Connor to show him the blemish on his chest to be sure, but then Connor broke down and cried. Hank knew then. Felt the realness of that sorrow. Hank was convinced now. It didn't matter how well Connor 50 pretended anymore. He would always know his Connor…the real Connor.

Three silhouettes came around the corner of a silent building. Simon, North, and Josh walked over to Hank and Connor. Hank wasn't surprised they brought guns. They each had a handgun, but North also carried a bag that Hank knew held a rifle.

Hank sighed. "Before we do this shit, here's the deal. We're gonna scope the place out first. If there are too many of them, I'm calling the police. I'm not risking any one of you. Got it?"

"But!" North snapped. Simon elbowed her hard, making her grumble something to herself.

Connor led the way to the abandoned school. It wasn't even a block away, and when they stepped foot into the schoolyard, they took to some overgrown bushes for shelter.

Hank looked around the schoolyard. It was abandoned, overrun with tall grass and upkept landscaping. There was no light on in the school, at least on this side of the building. North used her sniper rifle to look to the upper floors and to the windows further from them.

"Don't see anything on this side," North said.

Connor led them across the schoolyard to the southside, where the back of the building was. He pointed out the window he escaped from when they took cover behind a deserted sedan.

Hank spotted the faint glow of lights on the second floor, and they waited, watching for any signs of life.

"Something's wrong," Connor whispered. "My scanning shows no signs of movement within the building."

"Mine neither," Simon said.

"Screw this," North said, standing up.

"North!" Josh hissed.

"Fucking women," Hank grumbled, going after her.

Connor, Simon, and Josh caught up. The five of them entered the school through the back entrance. Hank and Connor took the lead, all of them holding their weapons to their sides. Hank had to use a flashlight to see, but the only life he saw just before hitting the second floor was a rat that scampered up the steps.

The second floor had battery LED lights lighting a path through the hallways. The school sat in silence, a cool air moving through the rooms. A groan and a crash sounded down from them, making them jump. They remained frozen on the spot, listening, waiting. Simon and Josh were antsy, eyes darting around. North held her grit as always, eyes sharp ahead.

Hank looked to Connor. His partner nodded at him, signaling it was safe. Hank motioned the others to continue. They turned down another corridor, classroom doors open on either side. Hank felt nauseous. His old, detective instincts told him something was wrong. He could tell Connor felt the same way, his pace speeding up slightly as they saw no sign of anyone.

Connor stopped not long after the next hallway they entered, his LED flashing a bright yellow within the shadows. His eyes were to the floor, and Hank saw it.

"Holy shit."

"Is that…blood?" Josh grunted.

Blood drops, large and uneven, splattered across the dirty tile. But that wasn't all of it. Shoe prints…bloody shoe prints made tracks up and down the pathway.

Connor looked ahead, moving forward with brisk steps. Hank followed after him.

"Hey," he whispered harshly. "Slow down, there might-"

"No one's here," Connor stated.

They came upon an old biology lab. This room was lit more than the hallways, the sound of a quiet running generator in the far back. When they entered the lab, the smell of blood hit Hank like bus, and he coughed.

"Oh my god!"

There had to be eight or nine people dead in this room. Rats scurried away from their presence, some covered in gore. Josh had to step out, hand going over his mouth. North was stunned, frozen in the doorway. Simon stooped down to turn one of the humans over.

"These people are from CyberLife," he said.

"It's Rett and his followers," Connor said. Hank saw him kneel down by a dead man further in the room.

"What happened to them?" Hank asked, his stomach churning.

Connor grimaced, his eyes scanning the bodies lying in the room. "The rogue did this. He killed them all."

"I thought the rogue was working with them?" Simon inquired.

"If they are dead, who's controlling the RK900 and Amanda?" Hank asked.

Connor shook his head. "I-I don't know."

North put her back to the wall, sliding down to the floor. "Markus…"

"Mom…Mom, wake up!"

Kara opened her eyes, slipping out of rest mode. She blinked, sitting up in bed as Alice drew back. Luther stirred also, his large form rising up from the sheets.

"Honey, what is it?" Kara asked.

"I-I had a bad dream," Alice mumbled.

"Bad dream?"

She nodded, holding herself. Kara grabbed her daughter and pulled her in for a hug.

"What happened?" Luther asked.

"I was trapped in this big room full of zombies. There was no way out. And you guys were taken from me! And-And there was this wolf! He was wanted to eat me. He controlled the zombies."

Kara kissed the top of Alice's head, pulling back to look at her. "Alice, what did I tell you about reading those kinds of books? You know they give you nightmares."

"B-But I, but I-"

Luther chuckled, grabbing Alice up into a big hug. "It's okay, sweetie. There're no such things as zombies or big bad wolves."

Kara smiled at the sight. Alice calmed down, hugging her father back. Luther got up, holding her and rocking her some. He put her down a few minutes later.

"Better?"

Alice slowly nodded.

"You should go back to sleep then, baby girl," Luther said.

"But…I can't sleep. Can we take a walk? Please?"

Luther looked to Kara. Kara got out of bed, pointing towards their bags of clothes on the nearby dresser.

"Alright, but just a quick one. Get dressed."

Alice grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the next room to change out of her pajamas. Kara and Luther dressed and waited for their daughter.

"She has such a wild imagination. I don't know how many times I've told her to watch what she reads and watches," Kara said. "Do you ever have nightmares, Luther?"

The large man thought it over, slowly shaking his head. "No. I dream a lot. But I don't remember ever having a bad one."

Kara thought back, cycling through her memories for any dreams or nightmares she may have had. She dreamt once in a while, mostly of her, Luther, and Alice. She recalled some unpleasant dreams, some that took her back to escaping Todd and being on the run. But there was one other dream, locked in the dark corners of her mind. She didn't like to open it. It made no sense to her, but it did upset her like a bad dream.

It had been a long time since she accessed the dream memory. She recalled stark white walls, high tech machines, lab coats. There were numbers on the floor and on the walls, perhaps depicting directions. One number stood out to her, but as she tried to evoke it, the memory glitched.

"Hello, Kara. How are you this morning?" The voice was so familiar, yet so undeniably strange to her.

She tried to recall the face, unaware the memory raised her stress level. But when she forced the man to appear, the memory fizzled her sight, errors running across her optical matrix.

[Memory corrupted/Cannot access/Recovery needed]

"Kara?"

She jumped, Luther's hand waving in her face. "Y-Yes?"

"You ready to go?"

Alice waited by the door, dressed. Kara nodded, burying the unknown memory and the unpleasant feelings it brought with it. With a smile, she rose from the bed and they left their room to walk around the Jericho Center.

Alice kept to the front of them, looking around as they took rooms and hallways. Many androids were up, visiting, watching television or playing games. Some stood near walls in rest mode.

"Do you think Ralph is around?" Alice asked.

"I'm not sure. Maybe."

Kara wondered if Simon, North, or Josh were back yet. Last she heard, Markus had been taken by the RK900. She was only privy to that knowledge because Simon messaged her to stay put at the center, that the danger was far from over.

She knew Connor was still missing too, and that another RK800 had tricked Hank Anderson, somehow involved in this conspiracy. Kara had relayed all she had known to Luther, but they agreed to not say anything to Alice, knowing their daughter would only become more anxious in their situation.

They went to the main hall of Jericho Center. Alice wanted to see the large fountain in the back. Numerous androids were up here as well, quiet chatter filling the hall.

Kara wondered how many androids had been cured already, knowing that Simon and Josh worked on it most of the day before she came to them with Ralph. The antivirus was available here and at other android repair centers within the city. She definitely didn't see near as many that were sick, or showing the symptoms of being infected.

"Ralph!" Alice exclaimed.

The android child ran up to the WR600 as he stood near a wall. He looked around with quick, jumpy looks, fidgety as usual. Although, Kara did sense a lot more stress from him than normal.

"Oh…hi Alice. How are you?"

"I'm okay. I had a bad dream."

"Ralph hates bad dreams."

"Me too!"

Ralph continued to shift his gaze around the crowds of androids within the main hall, as if every single one of them had a bad agenda.

"Ralph, is everything alright?" Kara asked. She was sure it was his usual reservations, his usual anxiety of the strangers around him, but asked anyway.

"Something is wrong…very wrong."

Kara exchanged glances with Luther. "What do you mean?"

"You see them, don't you? The ones with LEDs? They turn white a lot. They are unaware. They feel fine, but they are not fine. It's happening more and more. Was just a flicker or two once in a while, but now some of them are staying white for minutes…even hours."

Kara sighed. "Ralph, it's just a bug from the anti-virus destroying the virus. They said it's normal, and that the white phase only lasts a minute."

"But look!"

Kara looked around. Several androids did have flickering white LEDs. They visited or walked around as if nothing was wrong. There were many androids without LEDs, but most of the ones who did have one, they glowed white, blinking softly. A few were blue, but they didn't seem to worry about the strange color on the temples of their friends.

"R-Ralph thinks we should leave."

Kara shook her head, noticing Alice hiding behind Ralph as she looked around the main hall. "We can't leave…the RK900 is out there. I'm still being hunted. Markus said this was the safest place for us."

"And look what happened to him," Ralph said.

"Maybe we should return to our room," Luther suggested.

Kara agreed, grabbing Alice's hand. They started to leave the main hall, Ralph following close behind. The sliding front doors opened, and several androids entered the building, all with glowing white LEDs.

In that instant, the main hall fell silent. Kara felt her circuits buzz under her skin. Each blinking white LED in the main hall cycled once with a faint chime and then remained white. Only the few with no LEDs or blue LEDs made a sound.

An RK800 entered the center, dressed in dark clothes. Kara knew right away it wasn't their friend Connor. His LED was a steady blue, and Kara saw his dark eyes scan the hall, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Alice gasped, her little form bumping into Kara as she desperately tried to hide.

"No!" she squeaked.

"Alice?! What is it?"

"It's him!"

"Who?" Kara was wide-eyed. She looked back at the RK800 as he leisurely strolled through the main hall with a smirk, knowing he had to be the source of Alice's fear.

"Honey, that isn't the Connor that chased us across the highway."

"N-No! You don't remember him?!" Alice took a deep breath. "Oh, no. You were reset after that…"

Luther put his large form in the path of the RK800. Then it clicked. That must've been the rogue that set Markus up and tricked Hank.

Kara looked at the androids around them, the ones with glowing white LEDs just standing there, reminiscent of machines. There were many without LEDs doing the same thing. The other androids shook their friends, trying to wake them up.

Kara covered her mouth, stifling a cry. The RK900 entered the main hall behind the rogue, his grey eyes sharp as he looked about, fists clenched at his sides.

"We n-need to go," Ralph whispered, shaking.

Kara grabbed up Alice and they slipped around the corner to leave the main hall. They stopped short. Their path was blocked by several androids, most with glowing white LEDs. Their expressions were blank, soulless, as they moved…As though invisible strings were connected to their limbs, controlled by a puppet master.

"Some things never change."

The familiar voice hit her back, but it wasn't near as cordial as the last Connor she spoke to. She spun around, pushing Alice behind her. The rogue was there, looking her over, the RK900 just behind him. He stopped just in front of her with a devious smile, locking his eyes with hers. Kara froze. She had no idea who he was, but apparently, she was supposed to.

The scenario was familiar, and Kara instantly remembered Alice's bad dream. The zombies surrounded them at this very moment. Her biocomponent heart dropped, dread seizing everything electrical under her skin. She was staring at the wolf…

"You look different," he said, looking over her hair and appearance. "But you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

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squishysvt · 7 years

Text

Misguided Studies

Prompt: You and Johnny attend the same university. You’ve known each other for quite some time and are borderline best friends. He’s had feelings for you for a long time but hasn’t quite been able to deal with them properly. Member: Johnny x Reader (with a side of DoYu^^) Genre: Angst Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: mild language A/N this wasn’t requested & was something I already had written so I just tinkered with it a bit so voila! please enjoy! -Admin Madi

Standing on your toes to reach the top of the book shelf, you pulled at the spine of a particularly thick book, using all possible strength to unbind it from its hold amongst the other heavy texts.

“I thought you said you already have all your material for your classes,” Johnny stood behind you, huffing and groaning as he held a stack of books that you needed for your essay. “Who the hell is making you write something this early on in the semester anyway? They’re just looking to be labeled as the bitchiest professor.”

You sighed, bringing the book down and setting it on top of the rest. “It’s been like two months since classes started, Johnny. What do you expect her to assign?”

“My professor just gives us chapters to read and that’s it. You should try bribing her or something.”

“And risk being kicked out? Tell Yuta to try that.” You drug your fingers along the wood of the bookshelves, skimming over title after title before reaching the end and turning to face him.

“Don’t you have plans? I thought you’d be busy on a Friday night,” poking his shoulder lightly, a knowing smile grew on your face as he shook his head.

“I’ve got nowhere else to be but with you,” he avoided your gaze, toying with the books in his hands and chewing at his lip.

As you were about to fake gag and tell him how cheesy he was being, Doyoung came flying around the corner, nearly knocking into the both of you before stopping abruptly. His arms weren’t full of books, but rather thick sheets of colorful paper with a packet of markers sliding around on top.

“Doyoung, where’s-”

“I found the book!” Yuta came from behind, waving a book in his hands and excitedly taking a place next to Doyoung who visibly flushed at his demeanor.

He muttered a shy “thanks” before prodding along, moving to a table at the back of the library happily.

Yuta stuck around for a bit before following, talking in a low voice as he covered his mouth with his hand, shielding it from Doyoung. “I’m helping him with a project. I called it a study date and he’s been quiet ever since,” giggling a bit to himself after seeing your expression, he skipped away contently.

You shook your head, happy for his apparent adoration for the brown haired boy sitting across from him. A feeling of want spread through your chest, but quickly dissipated as Johnny clicked his tongue in playful annoyance.

“Are they still not official? It’s so painfully obvious that they like each other. They practically eye each other up every time they’re in a room together. Like, it makes me feel like I’m interrupting something, you know? Like, do I just leave or do I crack some dumb joke to break the trance they’re in?”

“You overthink this a lot for someone who apparently doesn’t care about Doyoung’s love life.” Crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows at him to emphasize wanting answers, he stifled, just a bit.

“Is Mr.Johnny Seo jealous? Does he want someone to looooove?” You clasped your hands together and made kissy faces in his direction, a coy voice teasing him to no end.

“Y/N, please. I don’t need a relationship to be happy!” His statement came out as something eerily cheery, as if being single didn’t faze him in the least. Something you’ve heard all too many times.

Groaning and placing both hands on either sides of his waist, you shook your head slowly, peering into his eyes with utmost sincerity. “We’ve been around each other far too much lately. You’re beginning to sound like me.”

Tiptoeing to pat his head lovingly, you let your hands fall to his shoulders, leg wedging between his own and urging him to face the opposite direction. With a quick push of the lower back, he was moving with ease, laptop bag bouncing on his hip with each step.

You stopped him as you came to a table next to Doyoung and Yuta, clinging to the fabric of his shirt and contemplating whether to move or not. Tugging a bit harder, this time on his sleeve, he leant down to be at eye level with you.

“Do you think they want to be left alone?”

He shrugged and looked as they seemingly laughed at something Doyoung had said. “They look kinda distracted to me. I doubt they’ll notice, or even care for that matter. When you’re in love, it kinda works like that. You don’t see anyone else in the room except for the other person.”

Feeling both moved yet oddly satisfied with his answer, you sat.

“So you’ve been in love before, I presume?”

He dropped the stack of books onto the table, complacently exhaling as he rubbed at his forearms, imprintations marking his flesh where the sharp corners of the covers prodded his skin. He looked troubled though, as he pulled the chair contradictory to your own out and anxiously sat. He fiddled with his hands, laying each book out nicely for your choosing, cogs in his head turning as the question stumped him.

“I guess?”

“Well how else would you know….all that?” Motioning to earlier with your hands, he gave you a tilt of the head.

“That?”

“You know! That!” Growing frustrated at the lack of words forming in your head, you sighed and laid your hand on his. “That whole spiel you just gave about love and mushy stuff.”

He snapped his fingers, pointing with a reassuring “ah” and leaning back into his seat. “That one.”

He shrugged yet again, his aura of nonchalance annoying you as it always did after too long.

“Johnny, I’m serious. Don’t just flake me off.”

His lips pursed into the way they always did when he’s thinking, nails scraping against the peeling wood and looking back into your eyes after what felt like a century.

“It’s complicated.”

Intrigued by the openness his answer presented, you pushed lightly. “How so?”

His hand slipped from underneath your own, escaping into the confines of his pockets as he smiled at you knowingly.

“Y/N, you’re meddling, and if I recall correctly, you’re the one constantly telling me not to do that.”

Crossing both legs and arms, you sat up straighter. “This is different. We aren’t talking about present issues, just past ones.”

His eyes instantly narrowed, leaning forward to rest his arms against the table. A challenging look washed over him. “Says who?”

At this, you backed down. Confusion, and what could only be a bit of hurt left your heart plummeting. “You’re in love right now?”

He nodded with a different sort of smile gracing his face; one you’ve never seen before. Or maybe you have and just never noticed.

“I think so.”

“With who?” Decoding to stand your ground this time, you moved closer to him in an attempt to show how serious you were. “You’ve never mentioned that you’re seeing someone.”

“I know, and I’m not.”

Your heart dropped all over again, worried as you took in the state of the broken boy infront of you.

“You’re in love with someone you’re not with? Do...do they know?”

Johnny forced a smile, a painfully awkward one that left all kinds of questions running through your head.

“No, they don’t, and I don’t think they ever will.”

At this point you felt as hopeless as he looked, reaching out to intertwine your fingers and looking for any positivity in the situation. “Johnny, you have to tell them.’

“They’re interested in someone else.”

“Johnny, no. I’m not accepting that bullshit. If you live your life never telling them how you feel, you’ll hate yourself.”

“Do you not think I already know that?” His body shook as his voice rose, attracting the gaze of many as he went well over the volume level allowed inside of a library. “Do you not think it haunts me everyday? They like someone else and never even spare me a glance. I hate myself so fucking much because I know I’ll never be enough. I’ll never have my feelings reciprocated and I’ll just have to sit and watch because I’m not going to risk losing a friendship.” His eyes glistened as his resolve faded, voice shaking slightly as it returned to a much quieter tone. “Being around them is enough for me.”

“Johnny…” You moved to swipe at the water pooling, spilling over his eyes as he feverishly blinked, only stopping as his hand caught your wrist gently. His head hung low, tears falling onto the fronts of the books he had carried for you this past hour, contorting the images beneath as smiles turned to frowns and all happiness was drowned out of the colorful pictures.

His voice was fragile, wavering as he shook his head weakly, sobs threatening to wrack his body. “Please, don’t.”

He let your wrist go free, hands moving to cover his face as he cried, shaking his head repeatedly, taking in gasps of air when oxygen levels ran threatening low.

“Don’t hurt me anymore, Y/N. I can’t handle it.”

The realization hit and caused you to still, taking in the look of his figure, slouched and crying into his hands, sobs laced with the emotion he had bottled up for months. The words of his self deprecation played over and over until your head began to pound. Doyoung and Yuta watched in shock at the boy pouring his heart out in front of you, not knowing how to handle this situation.

You felt your eyes begin to blur, the world merging together to form only murky bits of color and shape, standing slowly as you pulled the hem of your sweater into both fists.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He began to look up, eyes red and trails of tears staining his handsome face. Before you could reach out, reassure him that you did love him, just not in the way he wanted, you were swept away and into the embrace of someone unknown, moving through the exit as the tears began to pour just as the heavens opened up and cried; cried for the broken heart of Johnny Seo, and for the future he was never going to have with the person he loved.

#nct #nct127 #nct imagines #nct127 imagines #kpop #kpop imagines #johnny #johnny nct #johnny kpop #johnny imagine #kpop imagine #johnny seo #johnny suh #admin madi

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nitewrighter · 7 years

Note

So who had the worse baby fever with baby Pharah? Gabe? If so how about #9 Reaper vs Pharah with Satya for more drama?

Me, reading this prompt: I can’t believe Pharah’s going to snap Reaper over her knee like kindling.

Oh hey! This can count for my “Symmetra joins the team” ficlet! Sweet!

—

Lúcio’s knee was bouncing up and down as he and Pharah sat across from each other in the Orca.

“Nervous?” said Pharah, folding her arms.

Lúcio took off one ear of his headphones. “What?” his knee stopped bobbing.

Pharah smirked. “Never mind,” she said.

Lúcio glanced out the window of the Orca and shuddered a little at the gleaming white city below.

“You are nervous,” said Pharah, leaning forward.

“Eh, this place just always creeped me out when I had concerts here,” said Lúcio, “I mean any place called ‘Utopaea’ has got to have some messed-up stuff under the surface.” He glanced back out the window, “I mean even from here it’s like…It’s too clean. It’s too bright.”

“Well most of it is hard-light constructs,” said Pharah.

“So who are we supposed to be picking up again?” D.Va piped up, glancing up from the game she was playing using her MEKA’s projection screen.

“Satya Vaswani,” said Pharah, picking up a tablet and scrolling through it, “And we aren’t really picking her up, just making sure she has some security on her flight to Oasis.”

“Wait–Vaswani?” said Lúcio leaning forward.

Pharah turned the tablet around to show Lúcio the photo of her.

“Symmetra,” said Lúcio, his brow furrowing.

“Sym–what?” said Pharah.

“That’s like, her supervillain name,” said Lúcio glancing up from the tablet.

“Her what?” Pharah sat back in her seat, “Lúcio–She’s an architech.”

“Obviously you’ve never met her,” said Lúcio. He looked thoughtful, “I should probably just hang back and make sure the perimeter’s safe. She uhhh…probably won’t accept our help if she sees me.”

“Wait-wait-You’ve met her before?”

“Well… to use the term ‘met’ loosely…” said Lúcio, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She tried to stop him when he was taking back some tech that Vishkar stole,” said D.Va.

Pharah’s eyes widened. “You didn’t think to mention this at the briefing?”

“I wasn’t at the briefing,” said Lúcio, shrugging, “I’m only here because you needed someone to–”

“To fill in for Doctor Ziegler, yes,” said Pharah. She glanced down.

“Reaper really did a number on her, huh?” said Lúcio.

“She’ll recover. And it’s important for you to get out in the field,” said Pharah.

Lúcio huffed a little, “It’s okay, y’know?” he said, “I know you’re more used to her as your medic. Look, if we had time for her to give me a whole tutorial on how to use that Valkyrie suit of hers, I’d probably be wearing it right now and looking amazing.”

Pharah snorted. “According to your last mission report, you can handle yourself just fine in those hard-light skates.”

“Well I don’t like to brag,” said Lúcio, interlacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back.

“Yes you do,” said D.Va.

“Okay yeah, little bit,” said Lúcio, smirking.

“Preparing to land in Utopaea,” Athena announced.

“Look sharp,” said Pharah, putting her helmet on

–

It was a bit of a wonder how anyone knew their way around Utopaea. Rather than simple stoplights, entire sections of the streets would dematerialize with perpendicular roads materializing in their place. It hadn’t been as bad from the Orca but down on the street levels it was almost blindingly white. There were also walkways stretching overhead that would shift, change direction, sometimes dematerialize altogether. It didn’t take long for the team to realize that these shifts in walkways and vehicular byways were automatic, though there was an architech here and there gesturing at a building or street utility to shift its location or design. In a sense it was a city constantly tweaking and perfecting itself, and the people who lived there just rolled with these updates accordingly.

“I dunno how anyone can know what’s going on with Vishkar changing everything around here all the time,” muttered Lúcio.

“I dunno,” said D.Va shrugging, “I kind of wish we could build stuff this fast in Busan.”

“Well yeah, Vishkar wants you to want that. It’s how they get in,” said Lúcio, pocketing his hands, “Good luck trying to get them out though, and saying no to them? You don’t want to see Vishkar when someone’s said ‘No’ to it.”

“Try and stay focused on the mission,” said Pharah, walking ahead of them.

They reached a large apartment building with several walkways materializing and dematerializing against it at different levels.

“You two,” Pharah glanced over her shoulder at D.Va and Lúcio, “Maintain the perimeter. I’ll go check on the architech.”

Glancing at the mission specs on her comm, Pharah stepped into an elevator which shot up numerous floors and exited out at the top level. She stepped out of the elevator and walked down a gleaming white hall to a door. She knocked on it, “Miss Vaswani?”

Several small spherical objects affixed to above and alongside of the door suddenly sprang to life and fixed on her, glowing bright blue and humming a bit menacingly.

“Identify yourself,” a voice came from the other side of the door.

Pharah nearly grabbed for her sidearm but calmed herself and turned her attention to the door. “My name is Fareeha Amari. You were told Overwatch would come to protect you.”

“And how do I know you’re with Overwatch?” the voice was clipped, yet still somehow melodic, aristocratic almost.

The passphrase, Pharah realized, I had a passphrase. She grabbed at her comm and quickly looked through it for the passphrase until she found it. “Laiṭlu āph ceyyaḍāniki,” she said, reading off of her comm.

There was a pause and spheres affixed around the door stopped humming and their glow faded. “Your accent is terrible,” the voice came from the other side of the door and the door opened.

Pictures in newspapers and dossiers had not done her justice. Maybe it was just the way everything was far too bright in Utopaea, but Satya Vaswani in the flesh was breathtaking, if not a bit intimidating. She held some kind of three-pronged object at the ready like it was a gun. “I’m not leaving the door open,” said Symmetra, “Come in quickly.”

Pharah stepped over the threshhold and into the almost unsettlingly neat and clean apartment. She looked around for possible bugs or listening devices, but only found spherical objects identical to the ones that had been posted outside, hanging at various angles and on different walls and in corners. She looked over at Symmetra, who was looking at her intently. “Hi,” Pharah blurted out, then caught herself and saluted, “Greetings,” she said, straightening up and saluting. “I’m Faree—”

“You have already given me your name,” said Symmetra, folding her arms.

“Right–” said Pharah, “Right…”

“I will tell you what I told your ‘Nīḍa,’” Symmetra spoke the name as if Pharah would know who she was talking about, “I have no interest in associating with an organization that is renegade at best, criminal at worst. I am perfectly capable of defending myself. You can report back to your superiors and tell them I have no need for their big, barbaric…” she gestured up and down at Pharah, apparently searching for a word for her that wasn’t insulting, “…enforcers.”

“Barbaric?” Pharah put her hands on her hips “Look, I don’t know who this ‘Nīḍa’ is, but according to our intel, Talon put a hit out on you, and word is, Vishkar’s no longer protecting you. Overwatch is sworn to stop Talon on every front.”

“Oh well they did an excellent job of it 5 years ago,” said Symmetra, rolling her eyes before furrowing her brows at Pharah, “Nīḍa said they were your friend,” she glanced off, “Or Overwatch’s friend at least.”

Pharah paused, “Is… Nīḍa the reason you’re leaving Vishkar?”

“I make my own decisions,” said Symmetra, frowning, “But I will say thanks to certain… revelations by Nīḍa, I have made the decision to leave Vishkar.”

“Okay,” said Pharah, “Well–Look, if Vishkar isn’t protecting you, just let us—”

“Pharah?” D.Va’s voice came over the comm, “We’ve got company.”

“Evacuate the civilians,” said Pharah, “We’ll be right down.”

“’We?’” repeated Symmetra.

“Yes, ‘We,’” said Pharah, “I’m getting you out of here.”

“I have countless sentry turrets up in this building for just this occasion,” said Symmetra as a red dot appeared on her shoulder and started trailing up her neck, “I do not require your—”

Pharah suddenly tackled her to the ground as sniper fire hit the wall right behind where her head had been. Rather than shatter, the window of the apartment, which was made of hard light, dematerialized.

“What was—” Symmetra started.

“Sniper,” said Pharah, “We need to get you out of here. Please come with me.”

Symmetra pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “Very well,” she said in a slight huff.

“Come on!” said Pharah, grabbing her wrist, “And keep your head down!”

Symmetra was still gripping her photon projector as Pharah ran low across the floor of the apartment, gripping her wrist.

“Wait–” said Symmetra as they reached the dematerialized window and Pharah took her around the waist, “What are you—”

Pharah leapt. Symmetra screamed. They free-fell for 16 stories, sniper fire whizzing past their heads, before Pharah activated her jump-rockets and stabilizers and recovered in mid-air, still holding Symmetra.

“Are you all right?” said Pharah, descending.

“You expect me to answer ‘yes’ after that!?” said Symmetra.

“Are you shot?!” Pharah snapped at her.

“No, I’m not shot!” Symmetra snapped back. Another round of sniper fire barely missed Symmetra’s head.

“Cover your ears,” said Pharah, taking out her rocket launcher.

“Don’t drop me,” said Symmetra, taking her arms off from around Pharah’s waist to cover her ears.

“I won’t,” Pharah fired her rocket launcher in the direction of the sniper fire.

–

“Merde,” said Widowmaker as she saw the rocket hurtling toward her. She grappled away just in time to see her perch blown to bits behind her. When she was able to reposition herself, she brought the scope up to her eye only to see both the target and her apparent rescuer dodge out of sight into the interior of the building. She put a hand to her ear. “Reaper,” she spoke, “I’ve lost visual contact on the target. It’s up to you.”

“I have to do everything around here,” Reaper muttered over the comm.

Widowmaker scoffed. “So dramatic,” she said, turning the comm off.

–

Symmetra was shaking a bit as they ran into the garage of the apartment building, but was still managing to set up several small sentry turrets on different support pillars.

“We’re on our way to your location!” Lúcio spoke over the comm, “Oh–Visual contact–”

“Great, we could really use D.Va’s…” Pharah glanced up away from Symmetra and turned on her heel to see Lúcio skating up toward them with a barely-conscious and worse-for-wear-looking D.Va riding piggyback on him, “…MEKA…” Pharah stepped toward them and looked at the scratches, bruises, and scorch marks on D.Va, “Talon–?”

“Taken care of,” said Lúcio, he forced a smile and looked at D.Va, “Thanks to D.Va here!”

“So what…?” Pharah looked at D.Va.

“Got clipped by my own self-destruct sequence,” said D.Va, pressing her face into Lúcio’s shoulder, “Scrub move.”

“You did great,” said Lúcio, smiling at her.

“Dos Santos?” Symmetra spoke up and Lúcio glanced up from D.Va.

“It is you,” said Symmetra, her brow furrowing.

Lúcio was silent for an awkward gap of time before giving her a small wave, “Uh…hi.”

Symmetra turned and looked at Pharah, “Overwatch is associated with this–this–ruffian?”

“Yeah, also he’s right here,” said Lúcio.

Symmetra’s mouth drew to a thin angry line and she started pacing back and forth. “So assassins are after me, my only means of rescue is association with–” she gestured angrily at Pharah, Lúcio, and D.Va, “With you!”

“We can leave if you want,” said Lúcio, furrowing his brow, “You’re welcome to deal with these guys on your own.”

“We’re not doing that!” snapped Pharah. She glanced over at Symmetra, “Do you know another way out of this garage?”

Symmetra thought. “Do you have transport nearby? I could open a teleporter on it.”

“The Orca,” said Pharah. She tossed Symmetra her comm. “Its coordinates are on here.”

Symmetra looked at the coordinates and nodded, then brought up a projection out of her prosthetic hand and dialed some of the new coordinates into it. There was the sound of gunfire and suddenly a hologram of one of Symmetra’s sentry turrets appeared out of her prosthetic. “Intruder detected,” said Symmetra.

“Just get the teleporter set up!” said Pharah. Symmetra nodded and drew up a projection of the teleporter. Her prosthetic flashed a red light again. “Sentry turret destroyed,” she said.

“Just–” said Pharah. But with a flourish of her hand, Symmetra set the teleporter up.

“You–” Pharah pointed to Lucio, “Get D.Va out of here.”

“But—-” Lúcio started.

“That’s an order,” said Pharah, “I’ll be right behind you.”

Lúcio nodded and headed through the teleporter with D.Va on his back.

“Miss Vaswani—” Pharah glanced up to see Symmetra setting up a few more sentry turrets, “You need to go,” said Pharah.

“I know,” said Symmetra, setting up the last few sentry turrets, “I’ll see you on the other side,” she said, before disappearing into the teleporter.

Just as Symmetra disappeared into it, Pharah moved to go through it as well but there was the sound of gunfire and the Teleporter collapsed and dematerialized. Pharah turned on her heel. “I could use another teleporter,” she said into her comm.

“My prosthetic needs time to generate enough hard-light to make a sustainable path,” Symmetra replied, “I’ll have one up as soon as I can.”

“Nice armor,” said Reaper.

Pharah’s brow furrowed and she aimed her rocket launcher at him. Reaper glanced up at the low ceiling, “So… the wings won’t do you much good here. Plus I don’t think that thing will serve you too well in close quart—”

Pharah blasted forward with her raptora wings and delivered a swift kick to Reaper in the gut. Reaper slammed into one of the cars in the garage and grunted.

“That was from Genji,” said Pharah, “For Volskaya.”

Reaper lifted his gun at Pharah and Pharah seized it by the barrel and punched him in the face. She wrenched the gun from his hand and smacked him across the face with it and threw it off to the side.

“Let me guess,” Reaper rasped, “That was from Doctor Ziegler?”

“No. Me,” said Pharah. She moved to punch him again but it was then that Reaper managed to block her strike with one arm and get a shot from his other gun in with the other. The blast clipped her, catching most of her helmet and shoulder and knocking her back. She grunted on the ground and then gripped the edge of her helmet. It broke away easily and she rolled over to her knees and coughed, feeling blood running down the side of her face. She found herself staring down the barrel of his gun. She looked up at him and he hesitated.

“Ana?” the name fell out of him and then he quickly caught himself, “No–” he aimed the gun at her again, but she swiped his legs out from under him and caught him with a rocket-boosted uppercut, thrusting him upward where she moved to kick him in the torso again but he turned to smoke and her leg phased through him. She caught another shotgun blast, in the chest this time.

“Raptora structural integrity compromised,” the voice of the armor automatically sounded off in her earpiece, “Retreat and repair.”

Pharah grunted and moved to get up but Reaper put a boot on her chest and shoved her down to the ground. “Ana had no business dragging you into this,” said Reaper.

Pharah coughed. “My mother didn’t drag me into anything,” she replied, “Someone has to stop Talon. Someone has to stop you, Gabe.”

The name seemed to shake him, coming from her, but it didn’t stop him from pointing his gun at her. “Part of me almost wishes I taught you better,” he said. He pulled the trigger but his gun clicked empty. He snarled and tossed the gun aside.

“There was one thing you taught me,” said Pharah. She raised her arm. “Clearing the area,” she said, her brow furrowed. She fired a concussive rocket from her wrist. Reaper turned to smoke and it phased through him easily. He returned to physical form and pulled out another gun to aim at her when the concussive rocket hit the car behind him and detonated. Pharah covered her face as Reaper was sent flying over her into the wall behind them, where he was caught in the beams of several of Symmetra’s sentry turrets. A sound that wasn’t really human escaped him and he dissolved into a wisp of shadow and disappeared. Pharah flopped flat on the ground, panting as her Raptora armor continued beeping in alarm and going on about compromised structural integrity. She then heard the whirring, chiming sound of hard-light forming and glanced off to the side to see a teleporter opened up.

“Thank you, Satya,” she said softly.

She let out a huff of a laugh, a bit painfully, and struggled to her feet. Gripping her shoulder, she walked into the teleporter.

#symmarah #pharmetra #bunnyribbit #overwatch

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