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change-the-world-someday · 3 years

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I'll Be Here

Oh boy I'm back baby. Here's a Derek Shepherd x Teen!reader bc I just started Grey's Anatomy. I'm well aware I've had stuff in my inbox for over a year, and frankly I'll get round to them soon. I hope this tides you over.

Derek Shepherd x Teen!Reader

Summary: Who'd have thought the child of Derek Shepherd would suffer with something even he can't cure?

A/N: I've been twitching a lot lately so this was a comfort write. Derek and Meredith don't have a relationship, and there's a bit of canon divergence.

⚠️TW⚠️ Talk and descriptions of twitching/tics

—•—

You knew the moment you woke up you were going to have a bad day.

Your alarm went off at the bright and early nine and as you made a move to turn it off, your arm twitched, almost pushing it off your nightstand. You let out a sigh, leaning down and managing to shut it off and sit up.

Until you neck starts to snap left and right, tensing and relaxing each muscle.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, standing and stretching, well, as much as you can before your twitches start up again. You makes your way downstairs, finding an empty kitchen and a note on the counter. You manage to pick it up and read it.

Sorry, I got called in today. Let me know when you’re up

— Dad

You shake your head, whistling and shaking your hands. Great, so you're alone on a day where your twitches are worse than normal. You sigh and head back upstairs, almost losing balance on the stairs, and takes a quick shower before trying to style your hair. With difficulty, you get changed before reaching over and grabbing your phone. You grip it tightly, until it’s flung across the room.

“Shit,” you mumble, reaching down and picking it up. You open your messages, trying to text your dad.

Y/N

Hi, up. Bad today

It’s short, and to the untrained eye, might seem pretty rude, but to you and your dad, is a warning. Heading back to the kitchen, you try to eat a bowl of cereal. Instead, you managed to spill the cereal twice, drop milk on the floor, and then poke yourself in the side of the face a few times with your spoon instead of eating.

Your phone buzzes.

Dad

Do you need me at

home?

Y/N

No. Just bad

Dad

Do you want to come

to the hospital? You

can stay in one of the

offices if you want

You think about it for a moment, though you don’t get too long before your phone starts ringing. You pick up.

“Hi—” you whistle “—hi Dad.”

You hear him sigh. “Hey kid. Do you want to come in today? I can make sure no one stops you and you can come straight to the office.”

You click, your neck jerking forward. “You sure? I’ve—“ you whistle “—never been there before. I don’t want—“ you click “—to become a case study.”

Your dad laughs lightly down the phone. “I won’t let them. Just make your way over, and keep your earphones in. Music helps.”

You nod, before your neck twitches to the side and cracks, making your dad wince audibly. “Okay. I’ll let you know—“ you whistle and sigh, clearly getting frustrated with yourself.

“I get it. Don’t work yourself up; it’ll only make it worse. See you soon. Love you.”

A ghost of a smile passes across your face. “Love you too, Dad.”

—•—

Derek hangs up and leaves the store cupboard, almost bumping into Dr Bailey as she marches past.

“Watch where you’re going, McDreamy,” she scolds and Derek smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Bailey narrows her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Y'N's coming here. They're having a bad day,” he replies and Bailey nods, immediately catching on. “No one else knows.”

Surprisingly enough, you haven’t met anyone from Derek’s work, except for Bailey and even then, that was an accident. You'd bumped into her on a bad day and Derek had to explain what was wrong. Ever since, Bailey’s had a soft spot for you.

“Not even the chief?” She asks and Derek shakes his head. “Did you warn them?” He nods. “Well, there’s not much else you can do.”

“They're texting me when they’re a few minutes away. If I get caught in surgery, can you meet them at the doors please?”

The two stop in the corridor, Bailey pulling him over. “I have my own schedule too, Shepherd.”

Derek nods. “I know, but you’re the only other person here they know, and you know how they can get in places they don’t know…”

Bailey looks around. “If you’re caught up, you owe me one.”

Derek smiles and nods, a look of relief on his face. “Thank you.”

—•—

You're walking down the street to the hospital, constantly readjusting your earphones so they don’t fall out. Your neck keeps snapping to the side and jerking forward, earning a few odd looks from strangers. You sigh, a few minutes away from the hospital, and pull out your phone. Before you can do anything, though, you promptly throw your phone on the pavement.

Thank god your dad bought you one of those industrial phone cases. You pick it up, dodging people as you go to call your dad. He picks up after two rings.

“Hi, I’m—“ you click “—a minute away.”

“Okay. I don’t think I’m going to be able to meet you at the doors. Just walk through, take the stairs to the fifth floor, and come down the hall. I’ll be in the break room, second door on the left.”

Your eyes widen; you're going to be by yourself? Walking through a hospital? Where no one knows you?

“O-Okay,” you stammer out and your dad sighs.

“I’m sorry kid. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He hangs up and you take a breath, nodding to yourself. You pocket your phone and turn your music up as loud as it can be. Your dad was right, it does ease your twitching, though not as much as you'd like.

Fall Out Boy blasts through your earphones as you walk through the doors of Seattle Grace. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, your neck twitch making it a lot easier to achieve. You click as you make your way to the stairwell, making your way up.

You don’t hear the calls of concerns from the interns following you, trying to catch up to you.

By the time you reach the fifth floor, the two interns have gone to find Dr Bailey to try and assist them, and Dr Shepherd who can help with the disorder being presented. They haven’t had someone who needs medical attention blatantly ignore them and go to a certain department before.

You lose your balance a little as you walk through the doors to the fifth floor, your neck jerking left and right repeatedly, muscles tensing and relaxing. Your hands are shaking and you walk like a new fawn.

You reach the door and push it open, whistling and clicking as you do so. At least you can see your dad today.

—•—

Derek knows immediately what kind of day is happening when you steps into the room. You're a jerking mess, neck and shoulders tensing and relaxing as though given electric shocks. You're whistling, clicking, and your eyes have recently started screwing shut, temporarily blinding you.

And that’s with your headphones in.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets, gently taking one earbud out of your ear and leading you to the seats. At least if you're sat, you have less of a chance of hurting yourself.

“Hi Dad,” you reply until a whistle comes back out. “S-Sorry.”

“Hey,” Derek places a firm but kind hand on your shoulder, “don’t apologise. None of this is your fault.” There’s a silence between you two, only broken by the sound coming from the removed earphone. “Fall Out Boy? Nice choice.”

Your neck snaps but you give a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you want something to eat? Did you manage to get some breakfast?” You sigh, your hands twitching and trembling, which tells Derek everything he needs to know. “Is it a bomb-site there?”

You shake your head. “I managed—“ you whistle “—to clean up. Took ages.” Your neck jerks forward. Derek sighs, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his side. You've always been wary; you never want to hurt your dad accidentally but Derek doesn’t care. You're his kid, and nothing will change that.

“You’re okay. Do you want some lunch? We can go to the cafeteria—they’ve got some pizza in there that’s actually pretty good.”

You nod, knowing anything you try to say will be interrupted by one of your twitches. You walk alongside Derek, trying your hardest to suppress your twitching as you make your way through the hospital and into to lift, where a few others are going to different floors. Derek notices, and leans into your ear. “You don’t have to hide it here, kid. Promise.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief from you as you let out a scatter of twitches, your neck jerking forward as you whistle and click. Your hands shake and flap and you let it all go. A few of the doctors and nurses turn around to look at you, but one harsh glare from Dr Shepherd makes them all go back to minding their own business.

You exit the lift and walk through the corridors to the cafeteria. You join the queue and you feel Derek keep an arm around you, trying to help you ease your twitches. You're grateful, though you both know there isn’t much either of you can do to stop them. You sigh, putting your earphones back in and blasting some music, this time Hozier.

Derek watches you struggle, sympathy panging through his heart. He hates that you've been cursed with this, and the worst part is they can’t find anything that’s causing it. It’s not like there’s a tumour or growth on your brain Dr Shepherd can operate on, you're just stuck with it.

“Dr Shepherd, good afternoon. Who’s this?” Lindsey, the server behind the food counter, greets. Derek smiles.

“Afternoon Lindsey. This is my kid, Y/N. They're joining me at the hospital today,” he explains, gently tapping you on the shoulder and causing you to take an earphone out. “Y/N, this is Lindsey.”

“Hi,” you greet, before your neck jerks forward yet again, cracking. The two adults give a wince and Lindsey gives you a small smile.

“What would you like, hun?” She asks. You look over, or does so as best you can. You can barely stay still long enough to read the menu. “We have a standard pizza or pepperoni pizza today. We also have some ham, chicken, or cheese sandwiches and salads. Or a few pastries we can heat up if you’d prefer.”

You give her a grateful smile. “Can I—“ you whistle “—have pepperoni please? And a—“ you click “—bottle of water?”

“Sure thing, and you Dr Shepherd?”

You put your earphones back in, trying your hardest to stop twitching. The problem is, the more you try to stop it, the worse it gets. It takes a few minutes for you to get your food, and when you do, Derek carries both trays to a table and sets them down. He takes a seat opposite you, giving a small smile.

“Thanks Dad,” you thank, pulling one earphone out so you can hear the conversation. You pick up the plastic fork and spear a few chips, but before you can eat them, your hand twitches and you throw it on the floor. You sigh but before either you or your dad can make a move to pick it up, someone else does it for you.

“You better be more careful. I don’t want fries on my shoes.” You recognise that voice anywhere, and smile as you look up at Dr Bailey. You let out a small laugh.

“Hi Dr Bailey,” you greet, whistling as your head snaps to the side and back. She smiles at you.

“Heard you were coming and through I’d say hello.”

—•—

“Guys, shut up,” Cristina hisses. “Do you see?”

“See what?” George asks as they quieten down. She nods her head and the table of interns turn around to catch sight of what’s going on. Dr Bailey is talking Dr Shepherd… and you sat with them. You're not dressed in any kind of hospital gown, nor are you wearing scrubs, so who are you? And how are you making Dr Bailey smile?

Meredith watches, catching sigh of your hair, and her eyes widen. She reaches over, slapping George on the arm.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s them,” she replies, “the person from earlier. Y’know, the one who didn’t check in at reception and took the stairs. The one who ignored us!”

George’s eyes widen too, and the two get up and start to walk over, ignoring the protests of Cristina and Izzie as they reach the table. You're struggling to get a sentence out, whistling and clicking as you try to tell Dr Shepherd about something.

“Dr Shepherd!” Meredith calls out, making the conversation halt between you. “Are you with a patient?”

She misses how you cringe. Dr Shepherd frowns, which only deepens more at the crack in your neck as it jerks forward. “Dr Grey, Dr O’Malley, how can I help?”

“W-We saw, erm, this kid walk straight through and up to neurology without checking in. Do you want us to check them in and get a better examination? We were going to come to you for a consult when we saw them anyway, but since you already seem to know them…” George trails off and Dr Shepherd looks between you, the interns, and Dr Bailey.

An awkward silence falls between you, only disturbed by the occasional whistle or click from you. “I can get a wheelchair if it’s easier.”

“No need,” Dr Shepherd cuts in. “They aren’t a patient, their name’s Y/N. They're my kid and they're accompanying me to work today.” The two interns look at each other, mortified. “Now, if you excuse us, we were just having lunch.”

Your hand flexes again, making you throw your fork on the floor (the second one in the space of fifteen minutes) and sigh. You go to pick it up, only for George to beat you to it. “Here.”

“Than—“ you click as your head jerks forward “Thank you.”

“Don’t you two have places to be?” Bailey asks, less than impressed with her two interns in front of her. They both nod and scurry off, back to their table to tell Cristina and Izzie about Dr McDreamy’s kid.

—•—

“I don’t know how they cope with it,” George muses as the group of four interns sit on some beds in the back corridor, waiting to be paged for something.

“Yeah, twitching all the time. God, I’d kill myself if I had them,” Izzie continues. “Would ruin my chances at both medicine and modelling. And a lot of other things, probably.”

“Do you think they wanted to go into medicine? Y’know, before they started twitching? Or have they always had it?” Cristina asks. “Or do they have a tumour?”

“For your information,” a voice cuts in, making all four jump and turn to the source, meeting the likes of Dr Shepherd, “Y/N wants to be a lawyer.” He walks down the corridor to them, everyone’s cheeks turning red a the prospect of being caught gossiping. “The tics developed about eighteen months ago, just before we moved to Seattle. It’s not a tumour, or any kind of swelling; in fact, we have no clue what set it off.”

“Have you done an MRI? CT?” Meredith suggests and Derek nods.

“We ran everything. It all came back clean.” He looks at Cristina. “They did want to be a doctor. When we realised we couldn’t cure them, they were upset for weeks. They—“

“Talking about me?” A voice calls down the corridor and Derek’s face splits into a smile, something that doesn’t go amiss by the others. You whistle, making it to the group and taking a seat next to your dad. You lean on him… until your neck twitches and you almost fall back. Derek’s hand shoots out, supporting you.

“We were just—“ Izzie tries to say before you cut her off, clicking in the process.

“Let me guess.” You whistle. “The doctor que—“ you click “—question and how I live with—“ your neck jerks to the side “—it.”

Your dad gives you a smile. “Ten out of ten for you,” he smiles. You nod.

“Well, I used to want to—“ you click “—be a doctor, until we found out this is incurable.” You whistle. “Pretty soul-crushing.” Your neck jerks back, and if it wasn’t for your dad’s hand, you would’ve hit the wall. “And we’ve learned to adapt to it. There are—“ you click “—days where I’m fine, with only a few, and days—“ you whistle and everyone can feel the frustration radiating off you. Still, no one chooses to finish your sentence, letting you get it out yourself “—like this.”

—•—

For a while, the six make general conversation, until, slowly but surely, you start to drift off. It isn’t until there’s an odd silence that Derek notices, and he has a smile on his face as he looks down at you, asleep on his shoulder.

“They look so… peaceful,” Izzie comments quietly, the others agreeing.

“Yeah. We’ve had a few rough days this week. God knows they need the rest,” Derek mutters. He shifts to look between the four. “Any of you wake them, I’ll make sure you’re banned from the OR for a month.”

Everyone’s eyes widen as they nod in unison; they’re all begging for a chance at more surgery. Carefully, Derek manoeuvres you so your head’s lying in his lap, body stretched out on the hospital bed. He carefully cards his fingers through your hair, detangling it as gently as he can.

The interns’ pagers go off, assigning them jobs and the four rush off, leaving Derek and you to rest. He smiles, getting himself comfortable sitting on the end of the bed, back against the wall.

“Get some rest, buddy. I’ll always be here for you.”

—•—

Hope y'all enjoyed. I know it's pretty different from what I usually write, but this is for my own comfort so...

Sorry not sorry

Taglist

@breadsticks2004 @criminalsmarts @rororo06@ogmilkis@ssebstann@herecomesthewriterwitch @garcias-batcave @spidey-reids-2003 @lovelylaurens@sataninsatin@snarky--starky @mcntsee @averyhotchner @dindjarinsspouse @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love

#derek shepherd #teen reader #Derek Shepherd x teen reader #Derek Shepherd x reader #platonic #tics #twitches #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #greys anatomy

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

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casablanca

first part — second part

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

request by anon: Hi hi hello, I've a request night be a tad much but up to you to judge, reader is a fellow avenger and gets severely hurt and when Bucky finds her after a battle he's scared she might not make it and there's a lot of "please don't leave me/I can't lose you" and such, pretty please maybe? 👉👈

word count: 884 words.

warnings/tags: angst, mention of blood.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

You were lying in the wet ground, sunk in the mud, with not enough strength to move a finger. You coughed the last time you tried to ask for help, choking on your own blood flooding your throat. Your whole life was playing in front of your eyes turned into one of those bad comedy movies everybody hates but can’t stop watching it. The three holes hosting the untraceable bullets burnt in your chest. You couldn’t describe the agony you were through at that exact moment. Not only by knowing that you were going to die alone under the cold rain, but all the things you were going to miss.

That agent of Hydra took you by surprise, being more stealthy than even himself expected. He shot you in the back, but he was too far for the ammunition to cross your anatomy, being stuck within your organs. And you didn’t know what could be worse. A slow death to give you hope to be found, despite the suffering and the torture, or a quick death not having any chance but skipping that nightmare. In the end, not even Stark could help you to heal from two bullets in the right lung and another in the shoulder blade. He could keep you alive for a couple of days maybe, but at what cost? At the cost of seeing everyone around you begging you to be strong, to continue fighting? You wish you could survive one second more, but life was abandoning your life bit by bit, while behind you the blood mingled with the mud.

You were cold. Your teeth were rattling. The pain was disappearing progressively as your eyelids rolled down. Not even when you heard the noisy engineers from your ship, you were able to open them again. The tiredness was taking control over your body and you were accepting it was your time to go. The amount of blood you had lost was probably irreplaceable, meaning nothing how quick your squad was.

He practically jumped from the ship, running faster than ever in his life. He didn’t even know when he started to cry. Bucky kneeled on the ground to hold you onto his arms and raise you with all the care he could have in a moment like that. He had seen a lot of people dying in different ways, mostly because he killed them. But this was different. You were everything he had now, losing you wasn’t an option. James was about to collapse when he managed to lie you on your stomach on the stretcher that Stark and Banner prepared for you. The silence inside the ship was shattering, only interrupted by the heartbreaking crying from the soldier, not loosening the grip on your left hand.

“C’mon, doll… Don’t do this to me”. He sobbed pressing his lips on your forehead, while the others were cutting your uniform to find the bullets stuck in your back. “Please… Ple— Please, bear it a little longer”.

Nobody around them wanted to say anything about the fact that they didn’t know you two were this close, being the first time seeing and hearing Bucky this desolated. They were used to his grumpy mood, his staring in silence. But when you were alone, it was quite the opposite. He was kindly, playful, loving, and sweet. It was something that continued surprising himself, it was too easy to be like that with you, tho. And watching you dying... It had been by far the most painful moment of his life. He’d prefer one hundred years serving Hydra again than not spend a second more with you. Just a second. He’d pay that price more than gladly.

The first bullet was easy to remove from your shoulder, but Banner and Stark exchanged worried gazes when it came to the other two puncturing the lung. It was a big deal. They had nothing to lose, if you had to die, at least they’d try it till the end. Natasha sprang into action, being an expert with those kinds of untraceable bullets and the damage they could make, while Bruce started to monitor your vital signs at the same time he supplied you morphine and anesthesia.

“Don’t… Don’t leave me, ple— please”. Bucky begged once and again, kneeling close to you, spreading wet kisses because of his tears everywhere he could. “Y’know… You promise me… to watch Casablanca together. We have a lot of things… to do. So, please… please… keep breathing”.

“Buck… Hey, Buck… Com’ere, let them work”. Steve placed a hand on his half metal, half flesh to make him stand up, but he slapped it.

“NO!”

The soldier was determined to not abandon your side, giving them enough room to continue with the improvised surgery. He needed to give you all his strength, even silently praying to God for your life as he had never done before, not having a single idea of what else to do. Placing his warm hand on the back of your neck, James fixed his forehead to yours, crying louder as he thought for a second you weren’t breathing anymore.

“You can’t leave me… You can’t, (Y/N)... You're the only thing I have now...” He whined in murmurs, trying to not pay attention to the constant beep coming from a device behind his back.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

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TAG LIST: @mystic-232 @homesicam @theresnoplatypus @i-love-scott-mccall @slutfornat @goldielocks2004 @whatrambles @spidergirla5 @fanofalltheficsx @nocturnalherb16 @valenquei @golden-hoax @hunter-of-baker-street @missusstark @vhscherry @warm-sensations @addictedtofictionalcharacters @sarahsmcu @tinylumpiaa @amelia-song-pond @heartislubbingdubbing @stolenxkissess @clean-and-claire @winchestersgirl222 @virgoroses @marvel-ousnesss @me-a-hopeless-romantic @rvgrsbrns @maccasbeard @haileygarciasunshine @lewd-alien @kait-is-always-late @mckenna @weenersoldierr @mxltifaves @soldierstucky @theboldandthebootyful @arkofblake @isabellamur @kiwisa @spider-man-lover @rosiebrands @stealapizzamyheart @koressecretidentity @asemistablehundredyearoldman @mayans-sauce @petlaufeyson @megapeacelovemusic-blog @phoenixhalliwell

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #the winter soldier x reader

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be-gay-do-heists · 3 years

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OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV. this is the version with the third person POV, otherwise nothing is different from the other version !

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Contrary to what the four crazy people he spent his time risking his life for nowadays thought, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to his jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made Eliot’s ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. He was an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-Eliot, or perhaps the Eliot-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard he had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of his mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, he could get out of bed. His head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in his best interests to swing his twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push himself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to Eliot’s best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let him forget it and the scar on his hip that put a falter in his giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those he sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today his hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to his mid-forearm, settled into him all familiar-like and made its home in him.

In the bathroom, Eliot used his wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck his mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. His morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for his post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took Eliot longer to shimmy on the sweats he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made him appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until he was face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing his grip. A light flex had Eliot drawing it back like the metal had burned him, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. He took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge his hand between the handle and the door so he could open the fridge with his elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind his collarbone faded quickly as the hitter scanned its contents and realized there was nothing he wanted to eat, or at least nothing he wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to his throat, and he slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw himself down, cradling his hands in his lap.

Eliot knew the drill: in an hour, he would grit his teeth and get to up to try and fumble open his bottle of painkillers, and if he succeeded, he would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so he could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone he had left on the nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as his ringtone and Eliot hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so he ignored it. His ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from his clenched teeth as he levered himself up to get to it as fast as he could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between his shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

He rubbed his eyes with his wrist, frustrated that he had forgotten he was supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in his mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

Eliot snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before he could open his mouth, his doorbell rang, drawing a groan from him. If he was correct about who the “we” was, it seemed silly to even ring it. His suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. Eliot had already moved back to the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” Eliot muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through his snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. Eliot made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When he next opened his eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on his coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in the hitter’s lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Eliot’s first instinct was to deflect. He trusted his team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that he had these days. That he wasn’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before Eliot could tell him just what he thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of his face, the thief reaching down to poke one of his hands faster than he could stop her.

By the time Eliot was able to refocus and pull himself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at him with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. Eliot thought he might have howled; he wasn’t sure. Both his hands were clenched tightly to his chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. He felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on him. He summoned the anger from his throat, the only weapon at his disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at him, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” Eliot turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

Eliot looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on him and let him wallow by himself. The hitter wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den he had accidentally put his foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning him an earful of hissing that scared the shit out of him. He wondered if he seemed as belligerent as that now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in Eliot’s space to let him feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

He didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of him. It was his to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at his hands. He hummed at Eliot’s slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” Eliot mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at Eliot’s growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

Eliot looked him in the eye for the sincerity he already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of his favorite traits of Hardison’s. Hesitantly, he extended his hands, rolling his eyes at the hacker scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, Eliot took the medication from her fingers with his teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to his lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” Eliot managed, once he had his breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while he was distracted trying to find the right response to that, that they wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted him to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to his forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. The hitter froze, and Hardison did too, meeting his eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At his tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on his arm, rubbing circles so lightly that Eliot almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down his forearm. When he got to his wrist, Eliot couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through his nose, high and strained. Hardison moved away from there immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” Eliot grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before he could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of his forearm. Eliot breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” Hardison said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Eliot’s thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that he didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of him that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over his head until his pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. He didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of him murmured. Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he had been offered something like this, let alone the last time he had taken the person up. If there was anyone he trusted to do it, if there was anyone he wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could he refuse them even he wasn’t fully on board with what they were suggesting?

“Sure, just…” Eliot said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on him. He licked his lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under Eliot’s hands, resting on his knees. Eliot tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above his head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in his hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to the hitter’s forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through his hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. Eliot winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” he grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed his scalp. His breath stuttered again as Hardison’s hands started working towards the sore meat of his wrist. Eliot’s hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. Eliot cracked open an eye to see him looking between his hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” he gritted out, doing a poor job of masking his genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

The hacker tapped his index finger against Eliot’s arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through Eliot’s hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts he had, mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, he insistently pushed his head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in his chest, leaving him longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left his throat as Hardison probed the bottom of Eliot’s palm, the ache drawing him back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry. You still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to Eliot’s again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in his hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching his scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on Eliot’s hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. He don’t know how long he sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched him, fixated on the single task of caring for him. The thought made the tender space behind his breastbone twinge. When he surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. Eliot grunted, lifting his head from the couch to look at the two of them sitting beside him, grinning at his movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in his, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

Eliot looked down to his hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other he tightened his fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving his thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” Eliot simply said back, a real smile rising to his lips.

#leverage #miko speaks #fic #my fic #ot3 #check og post for more notes

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hookingminor · 4 years

Text

4 times his friends posted you on their instagram + 1 time he did - mat barzal

a/n: I wrote this literally back in july so lets just ignore how idealistic this is regarding quarantine but im a slut for some barzy this is all fluff

word count: 4,733

summary: like the title says, some friends (with benefits?) to lovers + a tyson cameo, fluffy summer quarantine fic

tagging @davidpastrsnack so kate can get on the barzy train

To say the whole quarantine thing was an inconvenience was an understatement. School had ended online, your summer internship was cancelled, and it seemed like your summer would turn into an uneventful couple of months stuck in your apartment in, probably, the worst place to be stuck in during a pandemic: New York City.

Or so you thought.

You’d planned on having the most boring summer ever until your friend, Mat, had invited you to hole up away with him and a few friends in a lake house back in Vancouver. Well, friend was a loose term. The two of you were friends… just ones that kissed occasionally… and sometimes more than kissed. You’d met him about a year ago at a bar while he was out with his teammates after a game. A cliche meeting, but you hit it off instantly. Instead of ending up in his bed at the end of the night (which you would eventually end up at after a couple months), it turned into an exchange of numbers and an invitation to hang out later in the week.

You hadn’t thought anything of it at first, just thinking he was being friendly and wanting to end the conversation, so you were surprised to get a text the next day from an unknown number asking if you’d wanted to go on a bike ride.

Flashforward a year later and the two of you still went on bike rides together. At least, up until the pandemic started.

When the text came telling you to pack your bags for a month or so, you thought he was joking. Surely he couldn’t have meant you to join him in Vancouver over the summer? You were proven wrong when he showed up at your apartment the next day, two coffees in his hand.

“Uh, hi, Mathew,” you said hesitantly, opening your door to reveal your disheveled state, having just woken up.

“Why are you dressed like that? We have a plane to catch in four hours,” he said, pushing himself through your door, uninvited, to set the coffees on the counter.

“What are you doing here? What plane? You’re not supposed to be going out,” you reprimanded him for showing up unannounced and in the middle of quarantine.

“I told you we’re going to Vancouver, I know you read my text. Now let’s hurry up and pack, we gotta get going,” Mat rushed, already on the way to your bedroom.

You followed him after a brief moment once you’d processed what was going on. Mat had already pulled out your suitcase and set it on top of your bed by the time you entered the door. He was in the middle of rifling through your drawers and grabbing random garments to throw into the suitcase when you’d spoken again.

“You’re actually serious about this?”

“Of course I am. What better things do you have to do in a city on lockdown for an entire summer? Honestly, I’m doing you a favor,” he explained easily, turning back to grab more items.

“Oh, you’re doing me a favor? Thank you, Mat, for saving me from a summer of suffering. It’s not like I had other plans to find different internships or focus on my summer classes,” you replied sarcastically.

Mat rolled his eyes. “I am doing you a favor, and you’re doing me a favor by going. I need a hot piece of ass to get me through this, or I will lose my mind.” You slugged him on the shoulder in offense, but all he did was chuckle.

“And anyways, you can still do your classes in Vancouver. Instead of doing them locked in this apartment, you can do them lounged out under the Canadian sun. Preferably in a bikini,” he finished. You slugged his arm again, harder this time.

“In fact, you should take the red bikini, it makes your tits look amazing,” he said, noticing you shuffling through your swimsuits. You rolled your eyes at him but grabbed the red one anyway along with a couple others.

With both of you folding and packing, your bags were ready to go in record time.

“Alright, baby, let’s go.” And so you were off.

A week had gone by in total bliss. As much as you hated to admit it, Mat was right. Vacationing in Vancouver in a secluded lake house was a lot better than being alone in your apartment, even if you did still have classes to do. Mat teased you about it, but he always left you alone for a few hours in the day for you to focus on your work. Unless he really wanted something… like right now.

Mat had joined you laying on the couch while you were in the middle of annotating a book for class. He wiggled his way between your arms, causing you to break your hold on your book. He rested his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your middle, and nuzzled his face into your neck. Joining your hands back to your book and bringing your highlighter to the page, you continued to underline phrases you’d come back to later. A couple minutes passed in silence before Mat started sighing. And then he sighed again.

“What do you want?” you huffed out, closing your book with the pen marking your page.

“Let’s go swimming,” he said, pushing up to his elbows to look at your face.

“I have to finish, like, three more chapters today,” you explained.

“You can do that later. I want to go swimming now,” Mat whined.

“You know you sound like a petulant child right now, right?” you asked, moving a hand to his head, pushing his hair back as he pouted.

“Stop using big words on me. Let’s swim,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You paused to think about it for a moment, “Hmm… okay, I guess,” you said with a smile. Mat returned your smile with one of his own before hopping up to drag you to your room to change. It didn’t take much to convince you to swim. It was a really nice day out, and you didn’t really care to finish reading about 17th century philosophy.

You changed into your red bikini, Mat swapped his shorts for a pair of swim trunks, and threw on a backwards baseball cap. You went out back to join the rest of his friend group, who were in the process of loading up the boat with supplies and equipment.

“Oh, look, if it isn’t Brainiac and the Beast. Are you two finally going to go boating with us?” Tyson shouted from the dock. You rolled your eyes at his nickname they created for you and Mat. It had only been a week in Vancouver, but the chirps about you and school were tired by now.

“Princess here wants to swim in the pool, maybe next time!” you shouted back, pointing to Mat.

They laughed at your response, turning their attention back to the boat and running supplies to and from the house. You turned your attention back to Mat, who was taking off his hat and was about two seconds away from jumping in the pool.

“Mathew, stop!” you yelled out, “Get your ass over here!”

“What is it?” he asked, stopping just short of the deep end. He grumbled before marching over to you.

“You need to put sunscreen on first, dumbass,” you reprimanded. As you turned your back to grab the bottle of sunscreen, he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Mat,” you said sharply, turning back to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

You ignored him, opening the cap and squeezing lotion onto your hands. You gestured him to turn around, and you spread the lotion over it, making sure to rub it into his shoulders.

“I don’t see why I have to put sunscreen on. It’s not even that hot outside,” he muttered.

“First of all, you’re a dumbass. Second of all, heat doesn’t automatically mean the UV rays aren’t strong. And lastly, you’re white, baby, you’ll burn like a sun-dried tomato and being in water only increases the amount of sun you’re exposed to,” you explained, reaching up to rub some on his face.

“Sorry, Miss Meteorologist,” he grumbled, clearly not happy he’d lost this argument.

“One of us has to have brains. We can’t all get by on our good looks and skating ability,” you replied, slapping his cheeks when you were done for good measure.

“Okay, well, if you’re finally done,” you nodded in confirmation, “Let’s go.” He picked you up from under your thighs and ran at full speed towards the pool before you could even process what was happening. You screamed his name in protest begging him to put you down, claiming you hadn’t had time to put on sunscreen yet. He ignored you as he jumped into the deep end, dragging you with him.

You emerged from the water clinging to Mat’s wet body, your hair sopping and hanging over your face like you had come straight out of the movie The Grudge. Mat was laughing at your chaotic look, knowing you were well pissed at him. You jumped higher in the water on top of him to dunk his head under and tried your best to drown him.

It wasn’t until you were relaxing on the couch later that night doing your routinely social media scroll that you saw one of the guys recorded your sunscreen interaction by the pool, you calling Mat a dumbass, and him throwing you in the pool onto their instagram story with a caption “all these two do is fight” with some laughing crying emojis added for effect.

After a long day or hiking, you’d immediately crashed on the couch once you’d gotten back to the house, not bothering to walk all the way to your room. It was only early in the afternoon but you’d been out since sunrise, and dealing with people for hours on end had drained you. The group laughed at you as you plopped your body down onto the couch, curling your head under your arm instead of grabbing the pillow two feet away from you. The rest of them gathered in the kitchen, refueling their bodies with assorted snacks as they started popping open bottles of beer, ready to start the night. It seemed that even an entire day on their feet had not emptied them of their, seemingly endless, energy.

“Jesus Christ, we hiked for, like, six hours and you’re all still bouncing off the walls,” you sighed deeply.

“We’re about to go hit the boat and go water skiing, too. I’m assuming you’re too tired to join us?” Tyson teased.

“I will not be joining you because unlike some people, I need a nap. Now get out of here, you’re all giving me a headache,” you said, pinching your fingers on the bridge of your nose to emphasize your point.

They all snickered but kept quiet as they shuffled around, packing up more food to take outside. You heard the sliding door shut and close a few times as they ran in and out before it was finally silent. You let out a sigh of relief as you took solace in the calm quiet.

That was until you felt a pair of arms shifting you closer to the edge of the couch. You peeked one eye open to see Mat rolling your body over to give him some space as he climbed over your body to nestle himself between you and the back cushions.

“Not going out on the boat?” You asked as he tucked a pillow under the both of your heads and pulled a blanket over your bodies.

“No. They’re exhausting. I need some time for myself,” Mat replied, wrapping his arm around your middle to pull you into his chest.

“No offense, but if you’re with me, you’re not by yourself,” you explained, closing your eyes again as you settled into a comfortable position.

“Yeah, but you’re you. You don’t exhaust me,” he said quietly. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t answer. Within a few seconds you heard Mat’s breathing even out, and you followed quickly behind him into a deep sleep.

A couple hours passed in a dreamless sleep when you heard the sliding of doors and laughter travel through the house. It stirred you from your sleep and you both shifted around, letting out displeased groans.

“Are they both still asleep?” You heard one of them ask from the kitchen. Neither of you wanted to answer in hopes they would leave you two to continue sleeping.

You were sadly mistaken.

“Hey! Sleeping beauties! Time to get up!” Tyson shouted from somewhere above you.

You both groaned out a “Fuck off, Tyson,” without opening your eyes, both of you giving him the middle finger. Tyson laughed to himself and you expected him to keep bothering you, but you heard his footsteps lead away from the couch. You turned over on your other side, tucking your face into Mat’s neck before falling back asleep.

When you woke up later that evening, you checked instagram again to see Tyson posted a new story. It was the video of him bothering you two and flipping him off with a caption that said “I get no respect around here :(“

It had been raining all day. Which meant everyone was stuck inside watching movies and eating pizza. It didn’t take long for you to get bored of lounging on the couch, especially when all they wanted to do was watch Fast and Furious movies. You sat on the loveseat you were sharing with Mat, and you distracted yourself from the boring movie by tangling your hands in your hair, French braiding the strands into pigtails mindlessly. You unbraided and rebraided your hair into a fishtail after the pigtails, and then into a regular braided ponytail after that. You let yourself get caught up in daydreams as you stared blankly at the TV when Mat started tugging on your leg. Dropping your braid, you finished tying it off with a hair tie and turned to look at him.

“Let me practice on you,” Mat said quietly.

“Practice what?” You asked.

“Braiding,” he said, shuffling to sit upright. He tried to gently push you off the couch until you got the hint and moved to sit between his legs on the floor.

“You think you can do it?” You asked, ready to offer him a demonstration.

“I’ve been watching you for the past half hour, I got this,” he replied, pulling out your hair tie. You rolled your eyes at his confidence, but let him continue unraveling the strands.

Every few minutes Mat would sigh exasperatedly before pulling out the twists he’d made to start over. Eventually, he’d almost gotten all the way to the end of your hair before he sighed again, clearly fed up by how long this was taking him. You didn’t say anything as he restarted for a third time, going for a straight back braid instead of a French braid.

After another ten minutes, Mat had finally completed his simple braid, tying your hair off with the tie. He tapped your shoulder to indicate he was done, and you pulled the long tail over your shoulder to look at it.

It was a braid.

An extremely loose one where he mixed up the strand order in a couple places, but a braid nonetheless. You turned around to get back up on the couch, and you were met with his triumphant smile.

“Good job, bud,” you complimented, leaving the braid in as you resumed your previous position on the couch.

You checked your phone to find a notification of a new story tag. You opened the app to see a picture of you on the floor, staring at the TV while Mat had his hands twisted in your hair and a confused look on his face and tongue poking out of his mouth. Next to your instagram tag was “he’s been knotting her hair on purpose for 20 minutes now”

Your final exams for the summer classes you were taking were in a week. Finals stressed you out more than anything else in the world, and when you were stressed, you did a lot of baking. A lot of baking. After finishing your finals study schedule and nearly breaking down almost twice because of the amount you had to get done, you decided to start baking instead of going to sleep. So, at 3 in the morning when everyone was asleep, you’d turned on the oven and brought out the bowls.

It began with a few dozen cookies. You figured everyone could at least enjoy the cookies. Who didn’t like cookies?

Cookies turned into muffins, muffins into cupcakes, and then cupcakes into pies. By the time everyone was waking up, it was nearly eleven in the morning. You’d gone to the store twice and had taken a few twenty minute naps while you waited for your desserts baked in the oven. And right now, you were in the middle of finishing off some cinnamon rolls for breakfast

“Oh my god, what the hell happened here?” Mat had asked with a scared expression, taking note of the disastrous kitchen. You didn’t answer him as you were topping off the rolls with some icing.

A few more bodies had gathered in the kitchen and began to fill the seats at the countertop while they watched you with worried eyes.

“What?” You asked innocently, placing the plates of cinnamon rolls in front of all of them. Their eyes followed you carefully as you pulled more goods out of the oven where you were keeping them warm. Plate after plate you set on the counter, all the cookies and muffins and cakes.

“How long have you been up?” Tyson asked cautiously. You swear you’ve never heard him use a softer voice than right now.

“I’m not sure. I never went to sleep, I guess? What time is it now?” You asked, pulling out glasses for orange juice.

“Nearly noon. You seriously didn’t sleep?” Tyson asked. The others had delved into the confections, eyes bouncing between the two of you as they stuffed their faces.

“She’s stress baking,” Mat replied quietly, helping himself to a cinnamon roll.

“What the hell is tress baking?” One of the other guys asked.

“Yeah she does this when she’s stressed. Usually when finals are coming up,” Mat said, directing it more towards you than his friend. You gave him a sheepish look, deciding not to comment since he already answered for you.

Mat was used to your stress baking as it resulted in you showing up at his place in the middle of the night with bags full of pastries in the late hours of the evening. It was always against his diet and he frequently gave most of your desserts to his neighbor, but he could never tell you no when you arrived with gifts.

“Well, I’m all out of flour, so, I’m going to run to the store again to get some more supplies so I can make a chocolate cake later,” you said hurriedly.

You did a quick double check of the kitchen, flashing all the guys a bright smile before heading out the door with your purse in hand, all of them staring until the front door shut behind you.

When you came back, you found Mat in the kitchen doing the dishes and nearly all the sweets you’d baked earlier were eaten or wrapped and put away. Maybe there was a plus side to being in a home with five other people.

“Mat, you don’t have to do that,” you said, setting your groceries down and hip checking him away from the sink.

“You’re already stressed, I figured doing the dishes would take away some of that,” he said with a shrug. He continued rinsing out some bowls as you gave him a small smile.

The two of you continued to wash the dishes in silence, moving to clean the countertops when you were done. After half an hour, the mess you’d made was gone and any signs of a baking breakdown had been erased.

It was a shame you were about to tear up the kitchen all over again.

“How about this,” Mat said, noticing the frown on your face at the thought of making another mess, “Let’s have a competition.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“You said you were making a chocolate cake, right? How about we see who can make the better cake,” Mat propositioned.

You raised both your eyebrows this time. You both knew you were the better baker by a long shot. You did have this same breakdown at least twice a year. You weren’t even sure Mat knew how to make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or included possible salmonella-inducing ingredients.

You knew what he was really trying to do. He was trying to distract you from all the stress, and he knew you couldn’t turn down a competition. You were just as bad as him when it came to winning. Thankfully, this was something you knew you’d win.

“Fine, but I hope you’re prepared to lose,” you agreed with a smile.

“I don’t know, I have been practicing my cooking skills lately,” he said, grabbing the bowls he’d just dried off.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” you replied with an eye roll and heavy sarcasm.

You joined him in gathering all the ingredients and materials on the counter, setting up your respective stations. Mat divided the workspace in half, drawing a line in flour which made you laugh. You split the bowls between the sides and set up the ingredients on the second counter just like an actual cooking show.

“Okay, ground rules first. Half an hour to make the cakes, we bake them at the same time, and then another half hour for decorating at the end,” you explained, tying your hair back in a ponytail. Mat nodded at your statement and set a timer on his phone for 30 minutes.

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Go!”

After about two hours, your creations were done. Well, they were supposed to be. Mat’s cake looked more or less like a brown lump coated in frosting and stripes. You’d tried your best to decorate yours with small chocolate roses, but you could’ve turned out a plain cake and probably would have done better.

“I think I won,” you stated confidently.

“You’re not allowed to decide, you’re biased! I’ll make a poll on my story,” Mat said, going to grab his phone.

“You can’t do that, your followers are going to pick yours.”

“Fine, we’ll get someone else to do it— Josty! Come here,” Mat called to his friend passing through the kitchen. He hesitantly walked over to where you were, not wanting to come in the middle of whatever you two were shouting about.

“We need you to make an instagram poll to see who’s cake looks better. Oh, and you’re going to taste test them,” you said, picking up your cake to pose for a picture as Mat did the same. Tyson sighed before realizing you two were serious and he opened his app to take a picture.

He added the photo to his story with a poll asking “Which one is better?” With two options, Y/N’s or Mat’s.

After you set the cakes back down, Tyson picked up a fork before stabbing them to pick out a chunk from each. He ate yours first, nearly moaning at the taste.

“Holy shit, this is, like, the best cake I’ve ever eaten,” Tyson said, shoveling down another forkful. You gave Mat a shit-eating grin.

“Okay, okay, try mine now,” Mat said, displeased. Tyson rolled his eyes before forking out some of his.

“Uh,” he coughed, “it’s a little,” cough, “dry.”

“What? No, it’s not! Let me try,” Mat shouted, outraged, and grabbed Tyson’s fork to try for himself.

It took him two seconds before he was spitting the cake into a napkin.

“Fine. You win,” Mat conceded, throwing a dish towel against the counter in mock fury.

You gloated for another 5 minutes, pointing out Mat’s terrible baking skills as Tyson continued to eat your cake and laugh at Mat.

You won the instagram poll too.

+ 1

It was the last week before you and Mat were flying back to New York. The past month had passed quickly, and Mat needed to get back for the start of training camps. As the summer began to end, the whole crew thought they’d spend one last day on the boat before everyone started parting ways.

It’s not like you were opposed to being on boats, but when all the guys did was water sports and no one wanted to slow down to teach you, it wasn’t as fun.

Today, however, had been quite calm as you sat against the front of the boat, a seltzer in hand as you watched Tyson wakeboarding in the back. Mat was curled up behind you as you leaned back against his chest, tanned skin shining in the summer sun. You reached back to grab the baseball cap off his head, placing it on yours to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten to bring sunglasses, and you figured Mat could part with his hat since he had a pair.

The day passed peacefully as all the guys took turns until it was sunset. Mat had joined you back on the seat, skin wet from just getting out of the water. He wrapped you in his arms before pulling you onto his lap, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Tys, take a picture of us real quick,” Mat said, shoving his phone into Tyson’s chest.

You thought nothing of it, you and Mat had taken many pictures together, and this was no different. Mat rested his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your stomach as you both gave your cheesiest smiles to the camera. A quick shutter indicated the picture was taken and Tyson gave Mat his phone back.

Mat called your name from your bed as you stood in the adjoined bathroom, finishing your nightly routine.

“Hey, do you mind if I post that picture of us on my instagram?” Mat called out.

“The one from the boat? Why?” You asked, drying off your face with a towel.

“It’s a cute picture,” he shrugged when you reentered the room.

“People are going to start talking if you do,” you warned with a cautious tone.

He paused for a second.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Mat asked quietly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You stayed silent as you climbed in under the covers.

“What are you trying to say, Mat?”

He took a deep breath, “I think you’re amazing, you know that. And we’ve been friends for so long, it kind of feels natural, doesn’t it?” His fingers began tapping against the sheets anxiously as he held his breath and waited for your response.

You gave him a small smile, moving your body around to fully face him.

“It does,” you agreed, “But if you want us to be something more, you’re going to have to ask me on a date first.”

“A date? After I’ve already gotten you into bed? What’s the point?” You knew he meant it as a joke since he could barely finish the sentence without laughing, but you gently slapped his head as he began to apologize.

“I’m kidding!” He said between chuckles, “Will you go on a date with me once we get back to New York and it’s safe to go out again?”

“I’d love to, Mat,” you replied, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss.

“I’m still going to post that photo tomorrow, though,” he said after a short pause, smiling against your lips.

The next day when Mat had gone on a fishing trip with the guys, you saw a notification pop up on your phone.

“@barzal97 tagged you in a photo”

You unlocked your phone.

“Isolation isn’t so bad when you have this girl to spend it with”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #nhl fic #my writing #isles13

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Au where lwj marries wwx after the bloodbath at nevernight, taking him back to gusu and hiding him in the jingshi, just like qhj did with madam lan. Also presumably like madam lan, wwx did not ask for it, nor does he appreciate it. The difference: wwx has the power to do something about it - after all, you can seal qi, but there’s no way to stop someone from performing demonic cultivation. (and, the lan sect forgot that a prison would probably have quite a bit of resentful energy in it)

“So, about half of that plan worked,” Wei Wuxian said, and Lan Wangji had the grace to look embarrassed. “Didn’t think the second half through, did you?”

Lan Wangji refrained from commenting, but then again, he was Lan Wangji.

“They don’t seriously think I’m going to just sit here in this tiny room for the rest of my life, do they?”

Lan Wangji looked – long-suffering.

It was a good thing, Wei Wuxian reflected, that Lan Wangji had confessed his feelings quite so desperately in those brief moments they’d been alone in the cave, or else he would be really upset with him right now.

Well, he was a little upset.

But it was difficult to be too upset when Lan Wangji had looked at him with that gaze, said those words, pressed his mouth to his –

“Oooh, wait, are you supposed to stay in seclusion here, too?” Wei Wuxian asked interestedly. “That’s the precedent, right? We get married and both go into seclusion, and then churn out a few kids – I could definitely give trying to make kids a solid effort, if you know what I mean –”

Lan Wangji’s ears turned red when he was embarrassed. “Wei Ying!”

“Oh no, it’s too late now,” Wei Wuxian said gleefully. “You rescued my Wen sect, you married me, you told me you like me; you’re stuck with me now! And in our very own fuck shack!”

“Wei Ying!”

Wei Wuxian didn’t know what he would do if he’d recovered from the paralysis Wen Qing had put him in to find them all dead – he would have reacted terribly – instead of the whole cultivation world ablaze with the news of Lan Wangji having stolen them right out of the Jin sect’s hands. If that hadn’t happened, he wouldn’t have stopped to wait for news, confused by the sudden twist; he wouldn’t have encountered Lan Wangji, rushing to find him, wouldn’t have read the message he’d passed along from Jiang Yanli, wouldn’t have heard him confess…

Wouldn’t have married him.

Lan Wangji was looking at him like he was the sun, moon and stars again, just at the mention of their marriage, and the only way handle the emotions churned up by that was clearly to start chanting, “Fuck shack! Fuck shack! Fuck shack!” on repeat until Lan Wangji covered his face with his sleeves in despair.

Yes, Wei Wuxian had heard the story about Lan Wangji’s mother, how this had been her place to live after her own crime – how she must have conceived her two sons here.

Yes, he was aware that calling it a fuck shack was in terrible taste.

No, he didn’t care as long as it got him out of having to confront feelings.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he said after a little while, laughing. “But seriously. What’s your sect’s plan here? Do they think that locking away my spiritual energy –”

Nonexistent spiritual energy, coincidentally.

“ – will allow them to keep me here forever? That’s not how demonic cultivation works.”

After all, there was plenty of resentment here to work with.

Wei Wuxian carefully didn’t think about how much of that resentment must have been from Lan Wangji’s mother.

“Unnecessary,” Lan Wangji said.

“So there is a plan,” Wei Wuxian said with satisfaction. “Well, not your sect’s, but you, yourself, have a plan. What is it?”

“Once matters calm, my brother will propose a debate with the other sects on the subject of my actions and yours, with the goal of agreeing that our punishment be left wholly in the hands of the Lan sect, the Tiger Seal sealed away or destroyed and both the Wen sect and you to be carefully monitored,” Lan Wangji said. “During that time, my uncle will come let us out.”

“Teacher Lan? Really?”

Lan Wangji didn’t repeat things, so he didn’t say anything, but he looked pleased – a little surprised himself, but happy to have had his suspicions proven right.

With both Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen on their side, it would be very difficult for the Lan sect elders to carry through their original plan. Lan Xichen would very carefully not agree to exactly what type of “monitoring” would be appropriate, allowing them to make their own assumptions, and if after everything had been settled the Sect Leader agreed that Lan Wangji could be the one to “monitor” Wei Wuxian, well, that was too bad for them.

An argument that would only be strengthened by the two of them being far away already, because to argue too much would be to lose face in front of the rest of the cultivation world - the only thing the Lan sect elders liked even less than his demonic cultivation.

“Huh,” Wei Wuxian said. “I didn’t think he liked me that much.”

“He does not,” Lan Wangji said. “If events were otherwise, he would have tried to keep me from you. But since things have come this far, he would prefer for me to be happy.”

“What happens after we leave?” Wei Wuxian asked.

Lan Wangji shrugged.

Wei Wuxian supposed that they could be rogue cultivators, staying at the outskirts of the other sects’ territories until the furor died down; with the Tiger Seal gone and Wei Wuxian technically under the supervision of a member of the Lan sect, they wouldn’t have much basis to argue. Travelling together – probably letting Wen Ning tag along – maybe with a donkey –

“We could have a farm,” Wei Wuxian said, brightening. “Just the two of us!”

Lan Wangji smiled.

Wei Wuxian’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah,” he said, a little weakly. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

And maybe they wouldn’t need to fight the whole cultivation world off with his demonic cultivation to do it…although if that were necessary, he was willing and able.

No one was getting in the way of this marriage.

#mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #my fic #my fics #I couldn't resist going with the funny take on this #sssrha

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bored-storyteller · 3 years

Text

@severnrose honey, I shouldn't have preferences but how could I wait to write for you and Xiao?

Dear Xiao, sweet Xiao, thank you for asking, I have good reasons to love you :3

60- Genshin Impact, Xiao x Reader (angst/comfort)

From the prompt list

17- "Am I the reason you cry every night?"

33- "Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?"

For Xiao you are like a little sparrow, so fragile and so free at the same time. He never understood what bad star forced you to meet with him, it was something so unlikely that it might have seemed ironic, but still he never tried to put you in a cage. You didn't deserve it. Sure, you're an absurd being, sometimes annoying, sometimes inconsistent and stupid, but you're also something he never bothered to find, a free kindness and a relief he always knew he didn't deserve.

So he never wanted to condemn you to a relationship with someone like him.

For this reason, when the darkness inside him had become heavier, when he realized he had gone too far, he pushed your worried eyes away from him. It was his job to protect you too, and he hadn't noticed the wound he had inflicted on you.

He is never too kind with words, he doesn't talk much and when he does he is never able to sweeten his sentences. It has always gone well with you.

Yet this time something was different; maybe he had been worse without realizing it, or maybe you were more fragile than usual, but he immediately opened a cruel door in front of you and a wave of awareness hit you. Yes, you were nothing but a burden to him.

Xiao hadn't seen you since that day. Or rather, he had happened to see you around, as always, doing your chores, helping where there was need, but he had no longer had the opportunity to be with you, alone, as you used to do from time to time, maybe in the evening, under the stars.

Initially he hadn't done anything, he hadn't thought of anything either. You were simply too busy, as he was, on the other hand.

But one night, about to give way to the morning, while he was checking his wounds, your sobs had come to him, and so did the next night, and the one after that.

He found himself listening to your silent cry every night, and he watched over you, albeit from a distance. And when he reluctantly had to walk away, he cursed anyone who caused you that unspoken suffering. If only you wanted to tell him he would be ready to protect you, again. But again, you were a fragile, free little bird, and he wasn't enough for you, he wasn't enough to take the pain away from your heart. Someday in the near future that would pass, everything passes for mortals, and maybe he could see you smiling again under the stars. This was what he believed - or hoped for.

But in one of those dark moments, your call rang in his ears and vibrated in his bowels. Wherever he was, he recognized his name spoken by you, in the agony of your nights.

He had joined you immediately, he had immediately appeared there, standing at your bedside.

Your name had escaped his lips perhaps too quickly, and for a few seconds he waited for an answer that never came. In its place, your sobs continued soft and distressed, your body curled up under the pale sheets.

He should have sensed right away, that yours was just a moan in your sleep, but somehow it had been necessary for him to chase the chance to see you again. How long had he not seen you?

Your suffering face made his heart tremble; he would have devoured your nightmares if you asked him.

He again spoke your name, his hand shaking you slightly, trying to tear you out of your dream.

Your reaction had been more violent than he expected and had broken the composure of the Adeptus for a moment, making him move backwards, taken by surprise. However, he thought it was normal, given the sudden awakening.

"Xiao!" His name had been uttered by your voice in amazement, but it was soon abandoned as you took your eyes off his figure "What are you doing here?"

The delicate face of the millennial Yaksha frowned in perplexity. Even now that he was there in front of you, did you persist in hiding your torments from him?

"You called me." His response was swift and straightforward, as always.

"I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to, I'm really sorry." Your apologies were fragile and uncertain.

Xiao let out a slight sigh, while his dark lashes lowered to the precious gold irises.

"Why don't you tell me?" The question he asked you later was unexpected, and for a moment you shivered at the authority of his voice, but he didn't realize "What happened?"

"Nothing." You cut it short and it irritated him. You knew how to be so stubborn when you wanted to.

"I hear your sobs every night."

He didn't want to utter those words as an accusation, maybe he hadn't even done it, but suddenly you stiffened and bowed your head even more, guilty.

"I'm sorry…!" Now your voice was broken and desperate, and a doubt began to creep into Xiao's mind as slimy as a snake.

How long haven't you called him? Why weren't you looking at him? Why weren't you smiling at him anymore?

"Who ... has anyone hurt you?" Now it was he who had lost confidence in his voice.

"Nobody ... really." You had obviously made an effort to stay calm, and somehow reassure him. But even though he didn't really understand human emotions, even though he was a different and detached creature, he could sense you.

"It's me…?" He couldn't explain why, but he felt like he was hurting himself "Am I the reason you cry every night?"

Your silence was a new pain for him. You didn't dare look at him, because it was hard for you to admit how much his distance and his disappointment had upset you.

But behind his sweet stoic face he prayed to have your eyes on him, he prayed for you to remove that horrible, strange feeling that made its way inside him, at least until he was forced to turn his back on you.

Xiao is used to pain and suffering, but that time something had changed. It was something new, something he never wanted to try.

A fist clung to his chest, and he trembled. How long had his hands no longer been shaking?

He thought he was about to give in, he believed that finally his heart would break under the weight of the new, umpteenth, fault of him.

He felt the physical need to vent that sudden wave of suffering that had hit him. He wanted to cry, but Xiao didn't know what it meant to cry, so he didn't, and he just vanished, not even looking at you.

It was the only thing he could do to protect you, right? If he was the cause of your suffering, then he would no longer exist for you. It didn't matter what he did, he didn't even ask himself, he just knew he hurt you. After all, he must already know that this was his destiny.

...

You never called him again, and Xiao never showed up again. Yet, although he endured this condition with the same resignation with which he endured every painful task of him, he realized that the selfish desire he had for you had not ceased. He didn't know how to call it by name, he just knew that it was really selfish, on his part, to expect that a little bird like you at least a little bit remained attached to him.

However, even if you despised him, even if he could no longer hear your voice or your laugh even though you were still breathing, somehow at least he hoped to remain present in your memory.

So every morning a flower was placed on your window sill. He never brought you the same type of flower two consecutive days. He didn't admit it to himself, but he wanted at least in one corner of your mind the whole Liyue to remind you of him. The scent of its flora, its colors and the sweetness of it, he hoped that even if you didn't want those things would make you think of that cruel guardian. Not that Xiao dared compare himself to flowers, no, but certainly those flowers could be compared to you for him.

The Adeptus wasn't good with words, but he was capable of meaningful and powerful gestures - it was something you loved about him.

You didn't need to know that those flowers came from him - even if it was unlikely they were someone else's gifts - and he relied on your kindness to accept them with a smile.

For a while it had worked. Even though he could no longer see you and have you around, that little contact you maintained had given him a sense of peace. In evil it was that little drop of good that gave him the relief he needed.

But he couldn't deserve that either.

One morning, when the first rays of the sun began to paint the earth with the warm colors of dawn, he came to your window. The Glaze Lily he had plucked for you had remained clasped in his hands as his eyes painfully gazed upon the Qingxin he had given you the previous day, left to itself on the windowsill, away from your care.

It was so, even the thought of him you could no longer bear.

The flowers stopped coming and Xiao stopped hoping. He only prayed that Rex Lapis would see your sweetness and cherish it with love, without needing you to endure the protection of a cursed Adeptus.

...

Xiao wanted to see you again, but certainly not right now.

The first thing his mind thought was nothing, then immediately afterwards he wondered which Archon had to thank for not killing you during his battle, and then all that was important was that you were standing in front of him, and looking at him, even if from a distance.

His mask frees his face as soon as his eyes settle on you. How long had he not seen you? For a moment the pain disappears, a wonderful, ephemeral second of peace. And then again the weight of darkness falls upon him.

He should run away, run away from your sight, but like under a spell he is stuck in his place, and you still don't run away.

You are pale and scared, your eyes full of tears. How much have you seen? How long have you been there?

It doesn't matter if the blood that covers him is that of his enemies, of those who want to harm those like you, all that matters is how Xiao now appears before you: a figure disfigured by the red of shattered life, a devouring demon .

He should go, but you call him.

"Xiao ..." His name in your voice is a desperate breath as it is sweet, and you run to meet him in your anguish.

He can't look at you, not when he's like that. He looks at the ground covered in repulsive liquids, without having the courage to meet your judgment. He would have liked to see you again, but now he is ashamed of who he is, he is ashamed of being Alatus, of being the Conqueror of Demons and the Eater of Dreams, he is ashamed of being Xiao before your pure eyes.

Now you are a few steps away, he hears you, but you are afraid to approach. He wonders why you ever even wanted to come close to him again, was it your good heart that pushed you to do it?

"Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?" He did not want to ask that question, yet he posed it in front of you limpid and clear, as his "no" always are.

If he could die he would no longer distress you, nor would he hurt you, nor would he make you cry. If he could die, all aeons of unspoken pain would disappear. If he couldn't exist, everything would be better. But he can't, he has to live.

"If we are such a heavy burden to you why do you continue to protect us?" Yours is not a nasty question asked, it is rather a sweet worry distorted by insecurity.

His golden eyes return to immerse themselves in yours by instinct, without really wanting to.

"It's my duty, it's my ..." Xiao realizes he can't speak "But you're not ..." he tries again, but he can't.

He can't explain that knot blocking his throat and voice, which he can't spit or swallow.

It is my duty, my contract. But you are not a burden, you will never be.

His eyelids drop again and his head bows in chagrin. You are everything in front of him, and he is nothing in front of you.

"Don't look at me ..." is all he can tell you "You don't have to see me like that."

He was convinced that you didn't want to see him anymore, he was convinced that you wanted to forget him, but then why did your trembling hands rest so lovingly on his face?

"You are so beautiful Xiao." Your broken voice was asking him desperately to believe you, and he in front of your face now so close to him has no way to escape.

The misunderstandings between you two, the pain and the fear, no longer mattered.

Your arms gently encircle his chest and your head rests on his shoulder, without asking for permission, but he won't be the one to walk away, not now that he's found you.

"I'll get you dirty." He murmurs.

"It does not matter." You answer him softly.

You have no respect for the ways of the Adepti, but that is precisely why he needs you.

"Please be happy to live, Xiao."

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #Xiao #genshin angst #angst/comfort #angst #genshin request #genshin oneshot

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dp-marvel94 · 3 years

Text

Dan Redemption with a twist

So I'm still geeking out over my ask that @stillebesat answered a few days ago, the one where about an upcoming fic. I've been playing around with a really similar idea, with a redeemed Dan fusing with a clone of Danny, for months now.

Here's my idea:

First of all, my preferred version of Dan is basically Danny but evil. He less fused with Plasmius and more consumed his powers so Dan doesn't have any of Vlad's memories. Next, I'm a big fan of the idea that Dan deeply regrets killing his human half and is, for lack of a better word, haunted by the action. It was the first death of his reign of terror, his final chance to turn back from the dark path he was on and...it was his suicide.

Now, Dan doesn't realize any of this for what feels like centuries. He's trapped in the Fenton thermos in Clockwork's lair, alone with only his thoughts. And the knowledge starts creeping in, all that he'd lost, all that he'd done. He realizes that he misses his friends and family and to his surprise, he hopes his younger self saved them. But then he realized that he tried to kill them. And the guilt starts creeping in. The regret follows and he remembers all the rest of his crimes. He doesn't have enough humanity, enough emotional capacity to be wrecked but he's no longer a rage fueled destructive monster.

Then to Dan's shook, Clockwork releases him without a word. The master of time dumps him in the new timeline, maybe a few months after the events of TUE. To his dim relief, Dan finds that his friends and family are all still alive. He watches them for a while, trying to process where he is and what happened. But then he runs into Danny. And things don't go well. It's a rocky start. Danny does not trust Dan at all. He doesn't trust that the older ghost has no intention of hurting his loved ones. Danny is ready and willing to fight and recapture him. The younger's opinion doesn't change until Dan saves him and Jazz during a ghost attack. The two ghosts, at Jazz's insistence, come to an uneasy impasse. Danny will leave Dan alone if the older ghost leaves him and his family alone. Dan isn't really happy about this arrangement but it's better than being trapped in the thermos again and he does have no intention of hurting his younger counterpart or his loved ones.

So Dan concedes. He stays out of Danny's way. He watches. He catches glimpses of his former friends and family from a distance. And it hurts. Dan feels out of place, disconnected. This isn't his time, isn't his place. He's stuck on the outside looking in... and this timeline already has a Danny, one who didn't make the aggresous mistakes he did. And those mistakes... the guilt's still there but like all other emotions, it's dim and distant. That's how it's been since his death, with every emotion but rage. But still, Dan does not like being on the outside looking in. He needs to do something else with himself, find some place he can belong.

Then Dan remembers Vlad. He had gone to the older half ghost after losing everything. And... Vlad had tried to help him. Separating the then halfa at his request had been a horrible idea but Vlad had been trying. Vlad did care about him. And.... the man must be so lonely now. Lonely like Dan himself is.

It's something of a wim but Dan goes to the older halfa. And at first, it's a surprise to Vlad and then seemingly a dream come true. Here in front of him is a version of Daniel who wants to stay by his side willingly. This Dan is more powerful and experienced than his younger counterpart, though not as experienced as Vlad. The young man is willing to be taught and all he seemingly wants is companionship. Yes, it would be a dream come true except...

Dan will not tolerate any of Vlad's shit. He will not be used to hurt anyone ever again. He will not take part in any of Vlad's schemes against the Fentons. It's a high price to pay but the older man backs off. Vlad is content to not be alone and have a chance to convince Dan to work with him.

So Dan stays with Vlad. With the older man busy with work, Dan has free reign of the mansion for most of the day. In some ways, it's nice. Away from Amity Park, there's no temptation to check on his former loved ones. His longing for a life he can no longer have is diminished. Vlad's mansion provides ample distraction, in the library, the game room, the gardens. But... the days are long and often lonely and the nights... they're even worse. The large building, empty and quiet, it's too much like a time Dan wishes he could forget. The memories are stronger now. After the fiery explosion...weeks of weeping in his room. Somber diners with Vlad where he couldn't force himself to eat. Waking up from another nightmare.

Without his humanity, the grief isn't as soul wrenching as it should be. But it's ever present, the memories on repeat. And there is little to break them up. As a ghost, Dan cannot sleep. He cannot eat. He can't truly feel the sun on his face or the comforting chill of the water on the pool. All physical sensations are dimmed.

And Dan starts to realize, it's excruciating. He feels incomplete, like there's a gapping whole in his chest. The memories of his own death, seen from the outside, return. His own icy blue eyes wide with fear and pain. Red blood spattered on his face. It's horrifying. Or it should be. If Dan could muster up more than the dimmest shadow of the emotion. But he can't, because the part of him that could died 10 years ago. And... this is wrong. He is wrong.

He should have died completely as himself, as Danny Fenton. He shouldn't have watched his death from the outside by his own hands. He shouldn't be this half being that couldn't even be bothered to die properly.

Dan stews, a forgotten anger growing as he longs for something he'd once wanted rid of. His human self, his Fenton, his humanity... he wants it. He wants to be truly, completely himself again. He wants to be whole enough to fade, to move on.

But that is the problem with ghosts, especially one like him. They do not change. They do not move on. As much as Dan acts like he is older, like he is different, he is not. He's the same angry, broken teen that he was ten years ago. And he will never be anything else.

Dan rages, trashing Vlad's training room. Soon enough, his anger is spent and the young man comes back to his senses. Dan huffs in frustration and annoyance at himself. He'd rather enjoyed Vlad's training room and now the man himself will likely be cross with him. Dan does his best to put the room back in order and find something else to do.

But the pain, regret, and longing linger. At some level, Dan thinks he's being ridiculous. All his former loved ones are alive. Dan isn't alone. He has Vlad and the ability to determine his own future. This world wasn't ravaged by his hand. His mistakes have been erased. He should be free. Except...

No, his mistakes are not all erased. His own death returns to his mind over and over. He shouldn't think about, he shouldn't dwell on it but...

One day, Dan goes down to Vlad's secret lab. He knows he shouldn't. This is such a breach of Vlad's trust but... this is were it happened. The young man stares at the metal table. If he was capable of feelings cold, he would shiver. There, where he was pulled out of his body. That wall, he cornered his human half there, the boy cowering in fear. There, that control panel was spattered with his own blood.

Dan wishes he could cry but he's not human enough for that. He's not human at all. But he wishes he was.

Startled by the thought, the full ghost turns away. He shouldn't wish for things he can't have but... no. Dan's eyes flicker around the room, looking for small differences from his memories. Some of the equipment is laid out differently. There are different samples on the shelf and... that door wasn't there before.

Dan walks through and finds... metal and glass chambers in different degrees of construction. A few are filled with ectoplasm and there in the back... if Dan had a heart, it would stop. There in a clear pod with a breathing mask over his face is...Danny Fenton. No, that's not right. This isn't... this isn't his timeline. And his younger counterpart is in Amity Park so....

Dan frantically searches Vlad's computer, his notes for answers. Clones. Vlad had been trying to clone his younger half ghost counterpart. In the tube... clone 3. Fully human. Suffered mental decline from 2 weeks gestation and eventually brain death a month later. Body kept alive by machines since... the week Dan arrived.

Dan wishes he could feel shock. He wishes he could feel relief. From the data, this was the first attempt that even resembled something human. The others were by all measures animals, in no way sentient. And it appears Vlad hasn't continued working since Dan came to live with him. But still...

Dan confronts Vlad, asking about the experiments, about the clone kept on life support.

"I could not bear to pull the plug." Vlad answers, surprisingly sober. "I'd hoped his condition would improve." There is a far away look in his eyes, a longing. "I tried everything I could think of to stop the degradation but..." The older half ghost shook his head. "I'm continuing to monitor 3's status." There was a pain in Vlad voice. "I fear he won't live to see the outside of his chamber."

Vlad was in denial, Dan thinkd. This clone is gone, like his own human half. The heart still beats, the lungs still breath but...

He shock his head. "Before you approach me, I consider...if I could create a viable, ghostly clone and coax the spirit to hybridize with the body..."

The idea was ridiculous and he should be disgusted, hearing all Vlad had done, what he had planned but...

"That is all in the past now." Vlad finished sadly.

All in the past like the loss of his own human half. He shouldn't wish for things that he couldn't have but...

"I'm a viable ghost..." Dan could barely believe the words coming out his mouth. "Not a clone but... I am without a human side."

Vlad is staring at him like he has another head, something which Dan was sure he did not currently have. "Daniel...are you suggesting... what I think you are suggesting?"

Was he? It was ridiculous, impossible. He could not replace his human side by... possessing an animated corpse.

"No. I am not." Dan denied. "Forget I said anything."

Vlad gave a nod, dropping the conversation. But Dan did not forget. This idea... it was wrong. It was impossible. He couldn't be made a half ghost again. But...

The temptation. If anyone could get it to work, it would be Vlad. And if it did...the ghost floats to what had been his bedroom and laid down. If it worked, he could sleep. He could eat. He could go out in public with human. It would necessarily be a replacement for what he'd lost but...

No... this was wrong. This was basically a clone of himself whose body he wanted to steal. But... was it really? This was an empty body, no mind, no soul. It was mad science but... Dan was already the product of mad science.

And if it worked, not as an overshadowing but a hybrization... he could truly age, he could grow passed what happened. And he could feel more than the pale shadows he could now.

The next day, Dan asks Vlad for what he wants.

"Are you sure?" The man asked. "This could have unknown consequences on your body or your mind. You could even destabilize."

That gave Dan pause. This might not work. He might end up in unknown pain or even fade but... "this is worth the risk."

The pair work together, planning and experimenting. They give the body transfusions of Dan's ectoplasm. The younger ghost practices envisioning himself as a halfa again. He prepares himself.

"I will need to reduce you down to your core." Vlafd says solemnly.

Dan places his existence in Vlad's hands. After blowing off seemingly endless amounts of energy in a desolate portion of the Ghost Zone, the older halfa repeatedly shocks him with the Plasmius Maximus. Dan's body pops out of existence, leaving his core exposed.

As just a core, there is no sensation. No input. No output. It's terrifyingly like being in the thermos again. Dan knows he is being moved. Vlad is doing something to him but... there is nothing and too much at the same time.

Dan can not process. He is cradled. There is something beside him, something around him reaching out. Something is changing. He is changing. It is too much. Dan loses consciousness for the first time in ten years. It is not sleep. There is no dream. He can think one moment, separated from the world. And the next...

He is under water. Something is beeping. He feels light but heavy. Cold but warm. His center is fluttering, something straining and pounding. An emotion. Something that might be panic or fear suddenly rises in him, crashing over him as a wave. An equally panicked voice comes from in front of him. Then there's a sting in his neck. Sting? Pain? Pain, it's been so long since he felt pain. And... his neck? He has a neck again. Dan blacks out again.

The young man comes to again. There is still something beeping near his head. He's not under water now but laying on something soft. Soft and warm. Warm....Dan can feel that. His breath hitches. Breath... he feels lungs move on his chest. And...he feel heavy and warm. Something... something happened. He can't remember what...

Dan's eyes flutter open, falling on... Vlad.

The man's eyes met his, relief flashing across them. "Daniel." He sighs. "How do you feel?"

"Feel?" Dan crocks. Is that... is that his voice? "What...what happened?" The ghost (?) thinks he might know. "Did it work?" He whispered.

Dan's voice... his voice is high, like when he was a younger teen. It should feel strange but...

"Take a look." Vlad says, offering him a mirror.

Dan reaches forward with a shaking hand. His hand... it's not gloved, neither is it blue. It's.... he stares. It's a pale peach color like... his hands are smaller and thinner....

"Daniel." Vlad interrupts. "It's alright." He holds the mirror up and...

Dan meets blue eyes. His own blue eyes. Eyes he never thought he'd see again except on someone else. His eyes water as he reaches towards the mirror. "It worked."

His new heart is aching, a thousand emotions hitting him. Joy, happiness, relief, grief, guilt, regret. All of them are bigger, nearer, more real and soul-aching than it's been in years. He should be upset. He looks and sounds like a kid again. But... "I'm alive."

He is alive. And it is a joy. A gift. A promise. He will not waste this second chance.

The newly remade halfa is crying and...it's never felt so good.

#danny phantom #dan phantom #vlad plasmius #i know Dan's grossly ooc here but i do not care.#my post #my ficlet

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illogicalthinking · 3 years

Text

The Burn Within

warnings: Some NSFW language (Remus), blood/ bruises mention, hurt no comfort and self hatred

word count: 1883

authors note: for this fic i used a prompt by @just-another-ts-prompt-blog which can be found: here

hope you enjoy!

Whilst the ‘light’ and ‘dark’ sides preferred to keep their distance from each other, they had to share certain parts of Thomas’s mind. For example, they shared a common area, and the imagination was split into two separate realms, much like Roman and Remus: Whilst one contained multiple castles and kingdoms living in harmony with each other, the other was a prison of living nightmares.

However, this arrangement did not bring them any closer to each other. The light sides tried to avoid the dark sides at all costs. Remus often played pranks on the others such as swapping the sugar out for salt, spiking drinks with inedible products, and stealing utensils.

This made meal times extremely difficult to control: Virgil would hiss and hide, Patton would try and fail to diffuse the situation, Janus would watch in entertainment and Roman was never around to witness. The only side that could keep the sides from murdering each other was Logan.

Today seemed like one of those days.

“Virgil could you please come down from there, Remus did not do anything” Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was far too early for this, Logan muttered to himself whilst taking a large sip of coffee from his “worlds best mum” mug.

“He walked in whilst we were making coffee, that’s more than enough reason to hide. What if he put baby powder in my drink again? I’m going to die because of him!” Virgil hissed from his place on the top of the fridge, hoodie covering his frantic eyes.

Virgil had been more paranoid than usual after the recent video. He had fallen back into his old habit of hissing at the other sides when stressed. It concerned Patton greatly.

“Oh please sunshine, there is a higher chance of me fucking a woman with 3 arms than there is me spiking your drink again, I just walked in!” Remus exclaimed as he passed Virgil on the fridge to the dining table.

“Whilst Remus vocalized his argument in a very unprofessional manner, he is right, we have been awake for approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes whereas, by the looks of it, Remus has only been awake for around 10 minutes.” Logan made sure to maintain eye contact with Virgil whilst voicing his opinion to ensure Virgil knows he’s telling the truth. “There is nothing to worry about Virgil, you are safe”

“Thanks, L”

“You're welcome, now please come down from there, it is very dangerous to be sitting in places you are not supposed to be sitting”

After the incident this morning between Virgil and Remus, Logan remained seated in the common room, his back straight against the recliner with his laptop placed on his lap. He was researching content for a Sanders side video they will be filming in the evening. He did not do this in his room due to not wanting another incident like this morning. Logan is the only side that is willing to deal with the incidents, while the other sides (particularly Janus and Roman) are too impatient and often make the situation worse.

Throughout the whole day, Logan continued to research the link between intrusive thoughts and depression. Thomas had recently been showing signs of this mental illness and Logan wanted to bring it up to him via a video. However, there was a small issue, Logan would have to have all the other sides present including Janus and Remus. He needed Janus because Thomas listened to him more than Logan (much to the latter's dismay) and Remus represented intrusive thoughts. It would only be fair to have Remus take part in a discussion about him, even if the light sides had a problem with this.

Happy with his research, Logan snapped his laptop shut. Due to none of the other sides entering the common room after this morning's incident, Logan concluded it was safe to retreat into his room because he was not needed to split up another argument yet.

To Logan's annoyance, it was time to film the video for Thomas' youtube channel. After the events of putting others first, Logan had started to dread taking part in videos. This was because Janus proved he could take his role as logic, and remain loved and respected whilst providing the necessary information Thomas needed.

“Enough of the self-loathing, Logan, now is not the time,” Logan muttered to himself as he sank down into Thomas’s living room. This evening is going to be a long one for all of the sides, especially Logan.

Logan didn’t know how much longer he could handle the arguing.

None of the other sides were listening to his facts or solutions, too busy pinning the blame on each other for Thomas’s current problem. Roman and Remus were currently swords to mace, about to start a physical fight, Janus remained by Patton’s side trying and failing to calm him down before he turned back into a frog and Virgil remained curled up on his side, his hoodie covered the majority of him but Logan could still see him shaking.

Something had to shut them up.

I will shut them up, Logan thought to himself. Logan became alarmed by the sudden aggressive thoughts. He may have a short fuse but he wasn’t usually aggressive, not without guilt eating away at him. However, this time Logan had no guilt attached to this thought and he shivered at the realisation.

This time was different he reminded himself and with that thought, Logan snapped

“Will you all shut up and listen to what I have to say for once!” Logan all but screamed at the top of his lungs, ensuring he was heard over the arguing.

The silence that came after was enough evidence for logan to continue:

“People who suffer from depression often get stuck with a single or even several intrusive thoughts that arise frequently. These types of repetitive intrusive thoughts are known as 'rumination'.”

“The whole point of me organising this stupid video was to bring this statement to Thomas’ attention and guide him with the help of Janus to seek professional help. You all arguing like a group of immature school children was not part of the script, now if you would excuse me I am going to make myself useful for once and leave” Logan huffed, glad to get that out of his system. Even after snapping, the guilt never choked him like it usually would, which disturbed him greatly.

“Logan, wait!” Virgil pleaded, but it was too late.

“I said I was leaving, now fuck off and leave me alone” Logan hissed at him, the guilt still not reaching him.

Happy with this statement. Logan sunk out of the living room back to his room, leaving six shocked and petrified individuals behind.

“What just happened?” Thomas said to nobody in particular.

“I do not know but it’s best to leave him alone, let’s just get this shit show over and done with” Virgil muttered, far too anxious about Logan to care about the video.

Logan what happened to you. Virgil thought.

When Logan rose up into his bedroom he could not hold it in anymore. All of the pent-up frustration from being ignored for months became too much for the logical side, causing him to slam his fists into the nearest wall. However, without realizing it, Logan’s fist struck a family photo of all the sides surrounding a very happy Thomas.

For some reason seeing the shattered photo frame on the floor and the glass sticking out of his broken skin caused something within him to break.

For the first time in months, Logan allowed himself to cry out all of his frustrations.

After what seemed like hours, Logan finally got up from his place on his bed. He noted that his eyes were swollen and his hand was covered in dry blood and bruises. He did not want to get up and clean his mistake, but he knew he had to because the others would ask questions and he did not want that. Logan did not want the other side’s sympathy. It was a little too late for them and Thomas to care about him but he had to stay because Thomas needed him. They needed him.

“Do they need you though, Logan? Come on, you’re just as useful as me right now and you know it.” A harsh voice sneered into the cold room. Logan immediately knew who it was.

“Be quiet Orange, no matter how much Thomas tries to push me aside, I won’t leave because I am his logic, and Thomas needs his logical side.

“Come on Logan deep down you know I am right, let me prove it to you”

“Let’s just say you were correct in your hypothesis, what happens after that?” Logan sneered. He was far too exhausted to deal with this right now, and he just wanted to sleep.

“Let me show you”

“If I trusted you I would be breaking trust with the others and Thomas and I cannot do that. Thomas’s welfare is my number one priority and I cannot cause any harm to them, no matter how much they have hurt me”

“Oh please Logan, Thomas has not given a shit about you since the beginning. Where is your video, Logan? All the other sides have an episode focused on them, even Remus! And Thomas hates the guy! Do something for yourself for once in your life and listen to me, I can make them listen to you but you have to trust me,” Orange whispered to Logan. Logan knew deep down that what orange was saying was correct, he did not just want to admit it to himself. Until now, that is.

“Fine, what do you have in mind?”

It has been approximately one hour since Logan had sunk out of the video, and Janus was getting worried. No matter how much he tried to get a hand on Logan and summon, he couldn’t. Logan was unreachable

The twins were arguing and Patton and Janus couldn't find a middle ground. Finally, they summoned Logan, needing an impartial side. But when he appears, something is different.

He was wearing a long-sleeve dress shirt, much fancier than usual. He had streaked eyeliner and his glasses were different. He was not wearing a tie.

“Logan? What happened?” Thomas asked, hesitant like he almost doesn’t want to know.

Patton had his hand to his mouth. He spoke up after a moment, “Logan, you look like… like a dark side. What did you do?”

Logan’s voice was quiet and soft like if he spoke too loud he might break. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t try to do this, I-” he cut himself off, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I have become obsolete.” His voice broke on the last word and he clamped his mouth shut.

“No, Logan!” Thomas immediately disagreed. “We need Logic!”

Logan nodded, eyes still trained on the floor. “Yes, you do need logic. But . . . you don’t want me”

And with that, Logan sank out for the second time that night, leaving nothing but a cloud of smoke that soon vanished, just like he did.

The others could not do anything but feel the burn within.

What had they done?

#logan angst #logan sanders angst #logan sanders #Janus Sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #character!thomas #sanders sides

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 3 years

Text

Touch it for Real, Part 4

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers

A/N: The song featured in the kitchen scene is Fantasy by Mariah Carey.

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

You were puzzling. Alone in your bedroom, laying within the comfort of your own bed, you were positively puzzling.

After sorting out just who Ben was and fixing the damage Baekhyun had done to your reputation by explaining that your idiot roommate had just gotten a hold of your phone, you reintroduced yourself and apologized for the confusion.

This ‘Ben’ actually seemed to laugh off the odd behavior he’d gotten as a first impression of you, mentioning that your roommate seemed funny, if not weirdly protective of you.

You could see what he meant when you read through the rapid fire questions Baekhyun had asked him from his age, to his preferred operating system, whether or not Ben had Facebook so “you” and him could be friends, his profession, and his parents line of work, his current place of work, how long he’s worked there and whether or not he moves around a lot, his hometown, his hobbies and even whether or not Ben has now or has ever had any pets; it seemed that Baekhyun had actually done a whole lot of legwork to give you a pretty good idea of what Ben might be like.

But the moment Baekhyun’s conversation topic changed to innocently ask Ben for his astrological sign, something struck you as off to see Baekhyun proclaim you to also be the same sign and after the two compared birthdays you began to find the whole exchange quite odd.

You realized that Baekhyun had simply lied about your birthday. Baekhyun knew your birthday. Why had he given a fake date to Ben? Unless there was something else happening that you didn’t understand. Then again, Baekhyun had always been rather stingy about giving out personal information; both yours and his. He was probably just being cautious about revealing too much to a stranger.

And actually, Ben seemed rather …. nice. You always hesitated to give them this adjective right off the bat as most of the guys you met who seemed nice right away turned out to be very good at faking nice and stringing along at least three or four girls at once for the shot at fucking at least one of them, and the hopes of fucking all of them.

You’d been called the wrong name late at night, whispered through a sleepy voice over the phone. You’d been sweet-talked and then abruptly called a bitch for refusing to send nudes to a guy you’d been talking to for only a week. Apparently a week was his limit and all his other girls gave him what he wanted within a couple of days. You’d been ghosted by nice guys who felt victimized and led on when you said goodnight politely with a smile and a wave instead of inviting them inside for ramen.

You did want a nice guy. But you wanted a real one.

What you wouldn’t give for one of them, for just one of them to be honest with you and really show you their true self.

Perhaps you had been going about it all wrong.

Your conversation with Ben quietly fizzled and you put your phone away to charge and now, now you were simply puzzling.

It panged at your heart to think of it, but the upset with Baekhyun hours earlier kept replaying in your mind. You propped your feet up on your wall and let your head hang off the edge of your bed, enjoying the way the gravity pulled at the blood in your brain and you tapped your fingers on the bed absentmindedly to the soft beat of music you heard playing from his room.

And you puzzled.

Don’t use your beauty as a weapon against me.

You hadn’t been this bothered by something since you’d watched that Mission Impossible movie the first time and spent an hour and a half trying to wrap your head around the complicated plot.

A Weapon.

Your beauty … a weapon … against me.

Why did it bother you so much? Why had he been so upset that you were playing with him, that you were messing with him. He messed with you all the time. You messed with him just as much. He never got this upset. No, he never got upset in this way. In such a way as to call you out on using something you had, against him. Something that you hadn’t even known had any power at all to attack the man. Your beauty. Did you have such a thing?

You thought about the other times you fought with him.

Not really fought, the two of you never did that, but that fake sort of fighting like when he’d woken you up at 2am for the third night in a row with his loud working music and you found him out in the kitchen disassembling your favorite toaster, the one with the wide slots for bagels that also toasts four slices of bread at once and even has special buttons for frozen items. The stainless steel one that you won in a work raffle and proudly marched through the office carrying with a huge smile on your face. It was a deluxe model. Supreme even. The master of it’s craft. Said so right on the box. Your toaster in a million pieces on your kitchen counter; all because he needed some components or resistors or whatever the fuck it was and he decided the best move was to take your toaster apart rather than to just order what he needed online and wait two business days for them to arrive.

Sure, he put it back together a few days later but not without enduring the laser eyes you shot him over breakfast when you had to toast a piece of bread in a frying pan on the stove like a loser who did not own a four slice Deluxe Toastmaster Supreme.

You’d planned your revenge then. It was something tiny and it involved his TV remote. His precious TV was enormous, took up almost the whole wall, OLED or SUPER-NANO or ULTRA-NANO some similar nonsense words and had 8-Ks of pixels or so he claimed and had so many smart functions you could hardly get comfortable using it for anything that didn’t involve the Netflix button. And no, no, you didn’t do anything to the actual TV. Relax, this was just the remote. This was harmless. Absolutely harmless. Easy to solve really if he had half a brain in his head.

You just carefully cut out the smallest tiniest piece of IR blocking tape that fit exactly over the infrared sensor on the remote control and fit so well it was undetectable to the human eye. Unless you knew it was there and knew exactly where to stick your fingernail in under the plastic bezel to peel it back. You simply applied the tape and left the remote right on the coffee table before you left for work.

You’d come home that night to a pile of assorted battery packs all strewn about the coffee table, and the remote completely taken apart down to the tiny circuit board and Baekhyun was quietly touching the tip of some tiny tool to the different spots on the scary looking green part from inside of the remote with all the metal bits stuck to it and when you slowly walked by he looked up at you through the magnifying eye glasses he wore. His eyes looked comically enormous and you swallowed away your laughter and considered how long you’d let him suffer.

“Something wrong with your remote, Peanut Butter?”

“It was working fine yesterday. I just don’t understand it.”

“Maybe it’s the batteries,” you offered innocently and he just ignored your helpful suggestion as he began screwing tiny screws into place with a precision screwdriver.

He was reassembling it all now and you sat down beside him on the sofa about as amused as you had ever been to sit and watch him suffer.

He grabbed two new batteries from an unopened pack on the table and aimed the remote, pressing the buttons again and again. Nothing happened.

He was surprisingly calm about the whole thing and judging by the various shopping bags and different brands of batteries you saw, he seemed to have been working on this all afternoon. Probably for hours now.

“I’m going to have to take the TV apart.”

He was already standing up and walking across the room toward the wall mounted monstrosity when you leaned forward for the remote. He glanced back at you as you did it and he looked at you just in time to see you shake the remote back and forth and then hit it twice lightly against your left hand. Just a little knock-knock should do it. You were careful to keep the expression on your face calm and well controlled.

When you pressed the power button, the big TV came to life and you pressed the button for Netflix and scrolled through your recommended titles. You had a new episode to watch. You’d have to make time tonight for that. After he was done with his little project here.

Baekhyun instantly pulled his hands away from the TV and hopped back and away from the screen, peering up at it with his mouth hanging wide open. His eyes shot back to where you sat on the sofa holding the remote control. You did not allow your smile to form. Nothing in your whole life had ever been so difficult. You felt as if you could pop right here. You casually flipped through the menu on the screen and the man looked back up at the TV and back down at you again.

You could see him coming in then. He was moving fast with several large steps toward you and with the quickest movement you could manage you used the tip of your finger to slide the IR tape back over the remote sensor. You could not be as precise as you had been before with him coming right at you so quickly, but hopefully it wouldn’t be visible.

He reached for the remote. “What did you do, how did you fix it?” He held it up and pointed it toward the TV. Again, the remote did not work. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek.

He was pressing buttons again and nothing happened with each new button he smashed down. You could see the madness growing in his eyes the more he tried.

He made the smallest whining sound from the back of his throat and it took every ounce of self control to keep from laughing as he lightly tapped the remote twice against his hand just as he had seen you do. Nothing.

You tried to hold it. You tried so hard. A tiny sound escaped, the smallest sniffle with a laugh broke free from your throat and you coughed lightly to hide it.

His face turned on you and those crazed eyes were back only instead of directing them at the remote, he was looking at you now.

“How did you fix it? Do it again.” He looked insane and desperate and a tiny smile betrayed you as you grabbed the remote from his hand. You played the smile off as part of the help you were willing to offer him but you also had to inhale a deep breath and carefully and slowly exhale it through your mouth to keep from breaking completely.

You held it up in your right hand and gave it a little shake. As quickly as you had done it before you turned the remote on its side as you gave those two little knocks and his head flipped toward the TV when you aimed. With his eyes averted you were able to slip the tape off just before pressing the button.

The Netflix logo greeted you and Baekhyun threw his head back and let out a loud frustrated yell into the ceiling above him.

You’d been holding your laugh for too long. It was becoming too difficult now and he was back, reaching for the remote when the first suffocating giggles took your composure and you laughed out loud.

Your laughter brought all of his attention right to you and only you. The entirety of his focus shifted and that brought those crazed eyes of his bearing down on you, wide and demanding.

It was, by far, the most successful and meanest prank you had ever played on him to date and you were gasping for air and laughing as he reached for you. He grasped both of your shoulders and he shook you as you laughed and laughed at the absolute madness in his eyes. Oh he was crazy. It was just so damn funny.

The remote was still in your hands and you flipped through the different inputs on the TV as you cackled and tears formed at the corners of your eyes.

“How did you do it? You devil! Tell me how you did it?”

He balanced with his knees on the couch and his hands were on you, roaming over the fabric of the sweater you wore, lifting your arms to look under them, maybe for spare remotes or for hidden batteries or secret formulas, who knows what he thought he might find.

You’d stashed the tiny circle of tape by sticking it to the skin inside your elbow and he was currently examining the fingers on all of your hands up close as if they concealed all of the secrets he was looking for.

It wasn’t until he searched higher, pulling your hand forward toward his chest and his thumb grazed against the shiny plastic of the tape circle you had on your inner arm when he did a double take, pulled your arm harder and lifted an accusing finger to point at the tape.

“What is that?!” He clearly thought himself to be the world’s greatest detective.

You allowed yourself to be manhandled by him a little bit more as you got every bit of humor about your recent victory out of your chest and you lifted your other hand, the one he did not have held hostage right now to wipe at the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

“Stop laughing and answer me, woman! What is it?”

“It’s my birth control patch,” you said through a laugh and his eyes widened as he pulled his hand back. It was a tiny movement but you were so close to his accusing eyes that it felt monumental and the dramatic reaction to your teasing lie made a fresh wave of laughter bubble up in your chest. You knew he would react this way. Any mention of your contraceptives always made him clam up.

“It’s IR tape, Baekhyun. Infrared blocking tape. I put it on the sensor this morning after breakfast. After I made toast in a pan instead of in my toaster.”

The truth pulled his whole head back and he fell down on his butt on the sofa briefly before he slipped and fell right off the couch onto the floor and he sat there with a blank lifeless look on his face; staring ahead without any focus in his eyes.

“Do you know how sad pan toast is, Baekhyun? Tell me, how am I supposed to be satisfied with pan toast when I should have been having Deluxe Toastmaster Supreme toast?”

He was shaking his head back and forth as you spoke and when he did move it was to lay down flat on his back on the floor of the living room. His hands were up and he rubbed roughly over his face.

“Oh my god. Oh my god—it’s so good. I would have never checked for tape over the sensor. Fucking tape. A piece of goddamn tape. I was so focused on the batteries.I went to three different stores today. The circuits to the sensor were all intact, I checked it, it was good — I never even considered this. Are you an evil genius? My sweet innocent Bug ... is actually an evil supervillain.”

You left him on the floor and made your way into the kitchen to make dinner. It was your night to cook and thanks to the man stewing on the floor of the living room you had to do it around the scattered carcass of your third favorite kitchen appliance.

You remembered the way he reacted then. He pouted and moaned on the floor for a few moments until he smelled the stew you were cooking on the stove. It was comfort food. Something with meat and potatoes and warmth and spices. It would lift anyone’s mood and his had been lifted almost immediately. There were no apologies or any tears. Just a promise to put the toaster back together tomorrow after he went to the store for the parts he needed and that was the end of it.

He didn't storm away. He didn't raise his voice or say you were mean or unfair or too beautiful for him to withstand. He didn't get angry about closeness being used the wrong way, in a way that was unfair to him. In a way that could hurt him, like a weapon.

If he said you had the kind of beauty that could be used against him, didn't that mean he found you beautiful? Wouldn't that mean that Baekhyun found you attractive?

The words protested inside your mind. You shook your head.

That was impossible. Definitely. You’ve been so close to him for so long without even a hint of that sort of a feeling from him. Sure you were close to each other. Sure you cared for each other. It was a familiar sort of affection you shared. But attraction? Because he found you beautiful in a way that was unfair?

The puzzling was giving you a headache. There were some things that just did not exist in the same space in your mind and that was the existence of your roommate, Byun Baekhyun, and the possibility that he was attracted to you in any way.

You’d been inside your bedroom for hours now and you were no closer to answers than when you first came in here.

Baekhyun would be done with his episode. He would have watched it with Mia and discussed themes or scenes or dramatic moments with her. Did he talk to her on the phone or maybe though a headset as they streamed the episode together.

Did he like her voice and did she like his jokes?

Did he make her laugh? Of course he did. He made everyone laugh. Baekhyun was charming and hilarious. But could she make him laugh? Could she make him giggle and shake like he laughed with you?

It was late. That didn't really mean all that much to Baekhyun, as the man didn't really have any set bedtime and usually just fell asleep when the sun began to come up. It was a weekend night and you didn't have work in the morning and frankly your curiosity had grown too much for you to just stay in here and fall asleep without at least checking on how the streaming date went.

You knocked lightly on his door. You could hear music playing inside. Nothing too loud or crazy. The man seemed to be having a somewhat low key evening.

“Yeah,” his voice called lowly and you opened the door and peeked your head inside.

“How is our girlfriend doing?” Baekhyun was sitting on his butt on the floor in front of his bed with his head laid over his arms and his phone abandoned in the middle of the floor out of arm’s reach.

He let out a long low groan but did not lift his head up when you stepped inside.

“I don't even know. I don't know.” He sounded defeated already and this had only just started.

“Peanut, what happened?” You picked up the phone and unlocked the screen, searching through his apps to find the dating app so you could see if they had said anything to each other that might give you some clues about what went wrong.

“Nothing happened. I was too quiet. I couldn’t talk at all. I didn't say anything during the entire episode. Why is this so scary. Uggghhh...I feel unsafe. It’s gross.”

You stepped over him and climbed onto his bed, sitting up against the head of the bed as you scrolled through the chat logs.

It looked normal. Not unfriendly. A little terse and abrupt on his part. The man didn't know how to loosen up when he talked to girls and you wondered if maybe you needed more one on one lessons with him before he was really ready for this stuff.

When you leaned back against the headboard you felt the bed dip and he climbed onto the bed beside you and angled his body toward where you sat up against the pillows.

When you got to the end of the chat you could see that she was the last one to speak and she remarked that he felt a bit different from when they spoke at the beginning of the day. He didn't say anything in response to that.

Baekhyun moaned with his eyes closed and he turned his head into your waist. He was obviously reliving some perceived embarrassment he must have felt during the interaction with Mia and when he moved his arm around your waist you looked down to find yourself trapped under his arm that constricted as he pulled tightly, hiding the entirety of his face somewhere in the shirt you wore. He was warm. The weight of his arm around you felt nice.

“I felt so unsafe,” he repeated his complaint from earlier and his voice was obscured and muffled as he hid himself. He switched the tense though and you wondered if he no longer felt unsafe now that you had come in.

You typed out a quick response to Mia. You didn't think it was right to just leave her hanging without an explanation for his strange silence during and after the show.

“I’m going to tell her that you were so quiet because you were nervous. I’ll also thank her for watching the episode tonight.”

You heard and felt a hum and the tightness of his arm around your waist relaxed a little as his arm went slack. He did not move though. He still hugged you. He was still warm and it took only a moment for your nose to pick up the pleasant smell of his clean bed sheets fresh from the dryer. You both had a schedule for washing things like towels and bed sheets. Yours had been cleaned today as well, but something about the smell of his bed felt better than yours had. Perhaps it had been all that difficult puzzling that had tainted yours.

Mia responded right away to your message. She was flattered by his nervousness. You could tell with the way she reassured that he really didn't have to be nervous around her. That she was an easy going kinda girl. Low maintenance she said. You scoffed at the thought of a computer geek being low maintenance. As if you didn't know how difficult to obtain fancy GPUs were and how expensive high powered CPUs, high capacity SATA drives, and their required cooling systems were. You looked around Baekhyun’s set up and figured it had to run somewhere in the multiples of tens of thousands of dollars; just in this room alone.

Low maintenance. Please, she was just as high maintenance as any other regular girl just with a different catalogue of parts.

You switched to the emoji keyboard and keyed off some random happy faces and closed her chat window with more force than was necessary; suddenly and unexpectedly irked when she responded with similar emojis and the notification popped up on the screen. You swiped it away quickly to be rid of it.

“She sounded nice though, even if I couldn’t talk. She sounded nice. Do you think she will even want to talk to me again? I think she likes you more than me.”

“She will like you. If she doesn’t she’s an idiot. A girl would have to be an imbecile, Peanut, to not fall for you.”

He lifted his face then, just enough for the corners of his eye to peek out and you looked down at the side of his face as he looked at you for a moment, absorbing the encouraging words you spoke to him. His leg began to shake somewhere on the end of the bed. You could feel the rhythmic motions. He often did this when he was tired.

You had been scrolling through matches on his phone, building on an idea that popped into your head.

The man needed some practice to build up his confidence. Maybe, just maybe you could find another girl. Someone who he could talk to, chat with, be friendly with, that maybe wasn’t just so wonderfully perfect for him. Someone just to break the ice with.

You stopped on a girl. Her dress was short and the neckline was low. She really left very little up to the imagination with this outfit. Outside of the revealing clothes, it was clear that she was a beautiful woman. She was sexy and very confident in herself despite the glaringly obvious grammatical typo in her bio.

You spun the phone around to show him.

“She looks nice,” you said. Baekhyun blinked at the phone and pulled his face back a little to see the image clearly.

“—-follow you’re dreams — you are — Never too old to follow you are dreams.” Baekhyun read out the sentence with the typo out loud and you laughed.

“Come on, she’s pretty,” you said softly, “right?” You probed gently and he chuckled once to himself and closed his eyes up with a sigh.

“Yeah, she’s pretty,” he said after a while and you felt yourself stiffen just a little bit with his admission. Of course she was. Anyone could see it. He’d be lying if he didn't admit it.

“Okay but like, just pretty or do you also think she’s beautiful?”

He hummed some non response and you focused your attention back on the phone in your hands. After scrolling through a few more profiles you found another woman whose beauty shone brightly right through the screen at you.

“And her? Is she pretty or is she beautiful?”

Baekhyun’s eyes opened again but just barely. He looked half asleep and you wondered if the reason his arm was still around you was because he was so sleepy he didn't realize he was still hugging you like this on his bed.

“Pretty,” he mumbled and pushed his face into your waist again. This time the shaking in his leg began to settle and you could hear a slow steadiness in his breathing.

“Should I message her? Maybe we can practice talking to her so you’re not so nervous talking to girls?”

“Sure Bug,” he said quietly, “you can do anything you want.”

He was falling asleep now. You could feel the change. It didn't matter. You’d let him rest a bit while you opened up a chat window and began talking to Candy.

She responded quickly and had a completely different feeling from Mia. Maybe this was good. Candy was easy to talk to but she had nearly nothing in common with Baekhyun. She casually asked what a computer programmer did and when you went into specifics you had trouble finding synonyms for words that didn’t just make it all more complicated. You finally settled on a simple explanation of what kinds of computer software Baekhyun had developed and left it at that.

After a while Baekhyun shifted in his sleep and uncovered his face. His lips were parted and from the upside down angle you could see the dark splash of his pretty eyelashes that landed over his soft cheeks. He looked lovely and peaceful. All the worries and fears of the day were gone and he was sleeping so calmly. You watched his sleeping face for a while, growing warm inside with the strange contentedness you felt.

You could see some light movement behind his eyes and you wondered if he was dreaming about anything.

Candy had asked for a picture. She was asking something superficial like what sort of car Baekhyun drove and you slipped into his picture gallery for the folder with the shots you took for him when he first bought his car. You found a nice one with him smiling behind the driver’s seat, bright red seatbelt across his chest and the logo of his fancy ride on the steering wheel.

‘Wooo, baby boy an Audi? you must be loaded. When are you gonna come pick me up in that?’

You laughed at her obvious reaction. Candy was exactly as you expected her to be. Baekhyun would be able to laugh and chat with her easily without too much pressure of impressing a complicated woman like Mia was. Candy was an open book. The stakes were lower with Candy.

Your giggle made him stir and you looked down to see his eyes open a tiny bit before he closed them again.

“It’s going well with Candy,” you whispered and he inhaled a breath and nodded his head as he closed his eyes again.

“Mmm, the pretty one?” he asked in a sleepy voice and you hummed your confirmation. Something buzzed inside of you; just a bit of nerve. Call it gumption.

“Baek,” you called quietly and his lips parted with his breathing but his eyes stayed closed this time. He did not respond. He didn't give any indication at all that he heard you call him.

“Baek, what about me?” Your voice was tiny when you asked it. You felt more warmth in this bed suddenly. You felt it in your chest and it seeped up to warm up your face too.

He hadn’t responded at all to your question. It had been pretty unclear though. He might not have heard it, or might not have understood it. Or his sleep may have just been too deep to register your words.

“Am I pretty or am I beautiful?” You said it so quietly there was little chance of him actually hearing it. He was asleep and you were just here, trapped in his embrace on his bed as he slept and you puzzled over the words he had told you during an upset. The words that you had pried from him when he was vulnerable and emotional. The words that you shouldn’t be over analyzing like this. Those words felt too risky to be giving this much thought to.

Here you were again, using your sneaking methods to try and trick him into something when you knew it wouldn't work, when you knew there was nothing really there and you were reading too far into things.

His steady breathing continued. His eyes remained closed and his arm still gripped around your tightly, holding you still, holding you close to him as he slept.

So you gave up. You’d moved back to the phone to respond to Candy; something silly and lighthearted, something easy just like she was, when you heard him speak.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said so far under his breath the statement sounded more like air than actual vocalization of any kind and your fingers stopped their rapid typing in the middle of your sentence.

Your eyes looked down. Your entire body was frozen. Half of you expected to find his eyes open and a wide teasing smile on his lips, begging for you to take the bait and believe his words just for the chance of laughing at your shocked face and making fun of you for being stupid enough to believe them.

He was asleep. His eyelids did not pull open when you looked down at him and his breathing remained as steady as ever.

Baekhyun was asleep.

That damn puzzling — your jaw was sore from clenching your teeth down and your lips were dry and chapped from biting them.

You had dropped the phone and it disappeared somewhere amid the bedcovers.

Baekhyun’s sleep was deeper now. He must have been very tired to be falling asleep so recklessly like this. You shifted downward and made some attempt to find the phone without waking him up and your small movement made him inhale a deep breath through his nose and he was moving now. You felt him shifting, moving his sleepy body up higher in search for some comfort; for something to lay on that was a bit more comfortable than flat on the middle of the bed like that.

You used the movement to reach for the blanket and pull it over his body so he could be warm at least and when he finally settled he shared the same pillow as you. His forehead rested against your shoulder and he was once again, fast asleep.

His arm though— you found yourself still very much trapped in nearly the same embrace as before, just shifted. A forearm landed over your chest and you felt a new heaviness of his bent leg land over your thigh.

You could wake him.

You could push him off and let him roll the other way so you could make an escape back to the peace of your own bedroom.

You would. You would do that soon.

Your current state of thoughts was simply too overloaded to follow through on any game plan. If you could only have a few more minutes of his warm steady breathing, you would move away from this. You would do it.

It wasn’t that you had never considered it. It was that you had gone through many lengths to come to this place. You were safe and secure here.

It was that you had nowhere else to go when it was over.

This place was your home.

Peanut was part of that home.

Things were nice right now; the way they were at home.

But…

As they sometimes do, and against your own will, your thoughts wandered.

You wondered as they wandered — wondered about him.

From the deepest parts of your mind; down where you’d shoved them roughly many times before, those wondering thoughts danced and swayed lightly to the soft music playing in this room.

Those secret thoughts about the sweetness in his eyes. Secrets about the fondness you felt for the little tips of him; the tip of his nose, the tips of his fingers, the pink tips of his ears. Thoughts you refused to encourage.

Baekhyun was asleep and you were thinking.

With the thinking came the shame and your skin was hot to the touch. The last thing you wanted was to ruin your home. With the thinking came the denial. You could not encourage anything. You could not afford to become complacent. You did not need these thoughts to become so brazen. You did not need them taking root. The last thing you needed was them making an appearance again.

The sounds he made while dreaming pulled your closed eyelids back open. You turned your face toward the sound. It was soft, the small groan from the back of his throat. But his face changed then; eyebrows screwed together and his lungs constricted as he let out a softer sound, like a whine. It was a complaint. His face showed signs of pain. The dream must have been unpleasant.

You lifted a hand then, shifted within his embrace you raised your palm and laid it carefully over the side of his face.

The shift happened with the warm contact and his features evened out and that pained look was gone.

You smiled then. So sleepy but satisfied that you could help when he needed it.

You would move after he got a little more sleep. After he’d had a little more comfort from you, you would move.

You weren’t the first to move. And it seemed by the change in light that shone through the windows that your visit had lasted much longer than you had intended.

It was the untangle that woke you up. A conscious and deliberate lifting of limbs; the careful grip of a hand lifting your arm by the wrist and setting it gently down on a flat mattress.

You opened your eyes when he pulled his own leg out from between your thighs. The temperature change was most jarring. You had felt so warm before.

Baekhyun was sitting up in his bed. His hair was standing up in places all over his head and he was moving slowly and carefully, in an attempt to disengage himself from the tangle of this woman he had just woken up with.

The sleep was still very thick in your head. It hadn’t been a full night’s sleep had it? You felt like you had just closed your eyes a minute ago and yet the sunshine was so bright outside already.

“Sorry,” Baekhyun whispered when he realized you were now awake and looking at him, “guess I got too comfortable...must have fallen asleep.”

His voice was thick with sleep and with embarrassment too, you could hear it everywhere, with the quick words he spoke to you and the pink that covered the back of his neck and flooded his cheeks too.

This situation...this was an embarrassment. Of course it was.

This was something that should not have happened. Not with two adults of similar age who shared so many liberties with each other; spending time in each other’s arms at night, well…

You felt awkward all over. What if—what if you’d done something in your sleep? What if you said something?

And he already wasn’t meeting your eyes as he climbed out of the bed and awkwardly made his way into his bathroom.

You could hear the sound of the running water faucet and the door closed with the smallest click like he went out of his way to close it as softly and quietly as possible to avoid disturbing you any further.

You could feel the heat burning on the skin of your cheeks and you used his absence to get up and get out of his bedroom before he came out and found you still, still tangled in his bed sheets like you’d been tangled in his legs and in his arms all night.

You had to ignore this. You had to forget it ever happened, and anyway, you were best friends with the guy...right? Wasn't this thing bound to happen in the course of a friendship? What if you went on a holiday with him and the hotel only had one bed? These things really did happen, you read about it on twitter once. Would you be that asshole best friend who let him sleep on the floor just because he was a man? No! You could build a little pillow wall between your bodies and sleep as still and motionless as possible, like a corpse.

This feeling would go away. The red hot embarrassment would wash down the drain of your shower. The sticky warmth left behind by his skin would go with it.

You’d made it as far as to undress and turn on the hot water when an awful memory dawned on you.

Baekhyun still had your shampoo.

You didn't have any other shampoo in this bathroom that you could use. You pulled open cupboards and drawers, searching for anything; tiny hotel sized travel bottles, a nearly empty bottle under the sink for a rainy day, even maybe something in the trash can that still had a few drops. Nothing.

You eyed the hand soap on your sink and pictured stepping out of the shower a frizzy, tangled mess.

A soft knock vibrated against your bathroom door.

“Bug, your shampoo.” Baekhyun’s voice called out, muffled by the sounds of the running water and the door itself, “it’s almost empty, but there’s a little left. Sorry, I’ll run to the store and get more.”

Your ear was pressed against the door so you could make out everything he said; so you could listen carefully to the tone and delivery of his words to see if he was still embarrassed about last night or if he’d brush it off easily like he did most things that seemed to bother him.

There were another two soft knocks, “B-Bug?”

“Yeah, Peanut, thank you. Can you just...put it by the door. I’m already undressed. I’ll grab it in a bit.”

He did not respond right away and you stayed with your ear against the door waiting for some sound. Some indication that he had left. The click of your door, anything.

“I left it by the door,” you heard his far away voice shout and then the click of your door.

When your shower was done and you were dressed in your favorite weekend outfit, the high waisted comfy shorts with pockets and a cute top that made you feel somewhat pretty even on a casual day and you emerged from your bedroom feeling ready to face whatever weird moods or wacky situations accosted you today.

You found him singing a song to himself in the kitchen as he made something that smelled delicious for breakfast. The radio was on a pop station that played hits from all the past decades and the upbeat rhythm of the song that played was a definite favorite that had him dancing at the stove.

It was a groovy little love song, quite old now that you thought about it and you felt the beat hit hard in your chest with each pop of his shoulders and hips. The joy you could feel in this song hit you just like that beat hit; heavy and prominent, and you smiled wide to welcome this morning mood it brought with it.

When you stepped into the kitchen to grab a mug to make yourself some coffee you couldn’t help but sing along to the song, you loved the song as much as he did and when he noticed you enter the room you could hear him singing the main parts; expertly, even though the singer was a woman, his voice could always reach the high notes as well as the low ones. She was the kind of epic singer with one of a kind of talent that was world dominating. Baekhyun was singing along, doing the same kinds of ad-libs and vocal runs that she did and he did it while holding the spatula up to his face like a microphone.

As you walked by he dipped his head and looked into your face and his eyes caught ahold of yours. You knew what was coming. You could hear it coming in the song, the chorus. The part you had to sing. These were the rules. He leaned hard and brought the spatula up to your lips just in time for your part to come on. You did not disappoint. You gave it your all closing your eyes up tight and throwing your head back, singing from the very center of you, this part you always sang during this song. The part that was made for you; he knew it and you knew it.

His smile was genuine and breathtaking and he grabbed your hand with his spatula-less hand and pulled you into him, the beat taking over whatever bit of nervousness he might have had before. This was different. This was dancing. This was singing to simply the best song for a Saturday morning and it was moving and laughing with your best friend and you let him spin you in a small circle, careful to keep your coffee mug lifted so it didn’t hit anything during the spin.

His sense of rhythm was perfect. His hips moved as if they were made for this. You had no choice but to follow. An occasional hand on your hip told you where to go. The song was reaching its peak and you knew it was a short one. The best ones always were. It was going to begin winding down now. It was always such a sweet and short lived moment of happiness that you always appreciated immensely.

As a final move, he gave you a little spin and released you to go on your way toward the coffee maker you so desperately wanted to get to when you first entered this kitchen.

He finished the eggs with the last notes of the song.

As you both sat down to eat, his eyes met yours and yours met his and you dug into the eggs and bacon he’d prepared. You offered him a perfectly buttered toast slice and he took it, nodding his head as he bit into the crisp corner.

“So Bug,” he spoke up between bites of eggs, chewing and swallowing thoughtfully, “about this...Candy.”

You swallowed the hot coffee in your mouth and clasped your hands together, suddenly remembering how asleep he had been when you had hit it off with Candy, his practice girl.

He listened to your explanation. Your theory that the stakes were simply too high with Mia and he needed someone to talk to that was a bit more of a relaxed task for him. You called it easy mode so he might get the game reference. He ate and listened to you talk and occasionally his eyebrows would lift or screw together with whatever sorts of thoughts he was thinking inside his head. You could tell by his body language that he didn't exactly want to start something with Candy and you had to emphasize that it was really just for practice, talking to her. It was to help build his confidence.

“She’s already in, Peanut. She thinks you’re super cool, she thinks you’re rich and thinks you have a very good job and plus, you make lots of money and she seems super into that.”

He was not speaking yet, despite how much you had talked and you were beginning to get worried that he didn’t see the benefit of practicing his conversation skills a little bit.

“It’s not even real, Baek, you just have to make some things up with her. Just to get over that anxiety about talking to women. Just until you are more comfortable.”

When he finally did speak, it was as you feared.

“It just feels kinda gross, Bug. She’s a real person too, even if she is obviously a gold digger. It just seems wrong. I’ve been...thinking lately. What if this is...wrong of us?”

“What if I just have to tough it out with Mia and get the fuck over it and just,” he thrust his hands forward over the food on the table for emphasis, “just — blehhhh — talk, just fucking talk to her.”

You lifted a fork with eggs toward your lips but your stomach protested. You suddenly didn't want any more food. The coffee you were drinking had suddenly gone too cold for your liking and you pushed the plate and mug away from you with your fingertips.

You were bothered.

Why did he choose right now to suddenly grow a conscience about this? Did he forget that Mia was chatting with both of you and not just him?

“I...I just — I want to try with Mia. I know I can get over it and talk to her. And I don't want to talk to Candy. The person Candy thinks I am, well...that’s just false. I can’t be the person she’s expecting me to be.”

He had obviously read through the entire conversation with Candy last night and found the tales you told simply too stretched out for him to try and live up to.

“But that’s what people do when they start dating. They stretch the truth, make themselves sound just a little bit better, make themselves taller, or make themselves look richer. They all do this.” You simply could not understand why he didn’t get this. Why he didn’t just play by the rules that everyone followed to get through the door so he could stand a chance here.

“Well I don't. I don't want someone to fall for a fake version of me. I want someone to like me now. This me. Byun Baekhyun. The Peanut with anxiety who lives with Bug who almost killed him over a cheese stick, but who makes really great toast.”

He was smiling now, joking about the funny memories. You pulled your lips into a forced smile and lifted the coffee for another drink so you didn't have to smile any more.

He was watching your face. You were sure he sensed it. Something had bothered you to the point of giving up on your breakfast and every pass your eyes made over his face led to the same thing. He was watching you.

“Why are you upset?”

You shook your head lightly. Willing the obvious signs to leave your face. You didn't even know why. You didn't have a name for this. So you just shrugged in response to him.

“Because I don't want to practice on Candy? Did you actually like her for me?”

You really made your best attempt. You inhaled deep and closed your eyes and you shook your head.

Candy did not matter and you knew it. There was something ugly inside of you maybe. Something that did not want Baekhyun to get along with perfect Mia. Something that was fighting against the idea of him being happy and healthy and free of this unhealthy attachment you had to him. Free and happy away from you.

“Then why?”

Enough. You were being unfair to him. You had promised him that you would help him. You had gotten him this far and you’d be the worst kind of asshole if you didn't see him through to the end; if you didn't follow through with your promise to find him someone who would love him like he deserved to be loved, exactly as he was now. The amazingly wonderful Byun Baekhyun.

“It’s nothing like that,” you smiled softly. It felt like a sad smile, but at least it was genuine. “I just worry when you get so anxious. You know you fell right asleep last night. As soon as I came in, you passed right out.”

Your words skillfully slipped out of your lips and you successfully changed the subject. You felt like a coward, but you simply did not have words for what was happening to you.

“I didn’t...say anything did I? Before I fell asleep?”

This question was quiet. His fingertips grazed over his lips as he asked it, nearly muffling the words he shyly asked you at the breakfast table, the morning after.

You are so fucking beautiful.

You lifted your coffee cup to drink the tepid liquid inside and dropped your eyes from his shaking ones. The answer to his question sat on the back of your tongue even after you swallowed away the liquid.

You swallowed again and it refused to budge and yet you sat in silence, unable to utter a single word in reply to his quiet question.

Your silence went on for too long and he looked up into your face. An instant smile lifted at the corner of your lips and you forced it up into your eyes.

“You just slept, Peanut. We—” you had to exhale the breath that you had been holding for too long in your lungs, “we just slept.”

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

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