#only to realize that hey the grumbling scary one is the honest one here

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 3) - A Moment

Summary: Jensen is away from home for a few days but isn’t having the easiest time being away from the kids for the first time since the accident. When he returns home, he has a gala to attend on Saturday night but a kiss on the cheek and slip of the tongue will snowball into the reader and Jensen sharing a moment...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, death of a parent, anxiety, self-worth problems, referenced past harassment

A/N: I love this part so much for so many reasons. Please enjoy!

________

“Hi Jensen,” you asked Monday night when your phone rang. “How was your flight earlier?”

“Same old same old. I just got out of work,” he said with a yawn. “Gonna grab a bite out with a friend. Kids eat dinner okay?”

“We had honey sriracha glazed salmon with brussel sprouts and roasted red potatoes.”

“Really?”

“They had kraft mac and cheese and I had Taco Bell.”

“See this is why I like you,” he chuckled.

“I’ll try the salmon again tomorrow. I was gonna make it but they didn’t have any at the store,” you said, opening the fridge and taking out a pint of ice cream. “Hey can I have what’s left of this mint ice cream?”

“Sure. Pick some more up for me sometime before friday please,” he said. “Also, Taco Bell? You do realize we live in freaking Austin right. There are literally hundreds of places you can go that have better mexican food.”

“Yeah but fake cheese tastes good,” you said. He laughed and your stomach rumbled. “I so should have gotten more than two tacos.”

“You in the kitchen?” he asked. You hummed and you heard him let out an oof in the background.

“Yeah. You alright?”

“This bed in my hotel room is comfy,” he said. “But I was starting to say, go in the drawer at the end of the counter by the table. There’s only five hundred gajillion take out menus in there. Order a treat for yourself. It’s on me.”

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

“True but you’re on call 24/7 until I get back.”

“Well in that case I bet you got a menu for a fancy steakhouse in here somewhere,” you teased as you picked up one for a tex mex looking restaurant. “Does this place really have quesadillas this big?”

“You must be looking at the menu on top. I almost ordered from there last week actually. The food’s great. They do delivery too. Just buzz the guy into the gate when they get there.”

“Any recommendations?” you asked, taking out the menu and flipping it over.

“Quesadillas are good. Loaded nachos are amazing. I’ve literally never had a bad thing from there,” he said. “To be honest I’d rather be getting that than where I’m going tonight.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, reading through your options, surprised to find such good prices.

“I have to wear a suit,” he said with a sigh. “After being poked and prodded all day I literally would rather just eat crap and watch food network.”

“How long have you known this friend of yours?” you asked.

“Twenty years, why?”

“Then you guys knew each other when you were young. It’s not too late out there. Call him, see if he’d rather get some crap food, a six pack and just catch up on his couch or in your room. I’m pretty sure he’s more looking forward to seeing an old friend again than the food,” you said.

“You make very good points. I should pay you more,” he said.

“You pay me plenty and barely let me spend a dime of my money on myself,” you said. “I don’t need more.”

“You got that fancy computer though.”

“You literally have the exact same mac in your office.”

“You moved in like three boxes and two computers,” he said.

“An ipad is not a computer,” you said.

“Debatable.”

“Well I like to draw sometimes and it’s easier on an ipad when you’re laying in bed,” you said. 

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

“I bet they’re really good,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I see you draw with the kids sometimes and those are good.”

“It’s a hobby is all,” you said, leaning back against the counter, your stomach grumbling again. “Anything else you want me to grab at the store? I’m going to hit it tomorrow while everyone’s at school.”

“Nah. Get the usual stuff,” he said. “The kiddos in bed?”

“Yeah, got the last one down about fifteen minutes ago,” you said. He hummed and you heard the sigh in it. “I got a video of them playing earlier I’ll send you.”

“Thanks. It’s my first night away from them in a long time. Normally I’m able to come back same day. I was kinda hoping they’d still be awake to say goodnight.”

“They’re safe and sound dad. We’ll call again after school tomorrow to talk like today,” you said.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was quiet and you pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath. 

“You okay?” 

“I haven’t been alone like this in a really long time.”

“I know. You check out your backpack yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You didn’t bring a jacket with you so I put that yellow hoodie that’s always on the hook in there in case you got cold.”

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

“I was pretty sure it was,” you said. You heard him shuffle around briefly before he hummed, much happier that time. “I thought you might like to have a piece of...something-”

“I really don’t pay you enough,” he said quietly. “Thanks for putting this in there. I need something from home more than I realized.”

“Well put it on, call up your buddy and have some fun tonight, Ackles. Nanny’s orders.” He laughed and you felt that twinge in your stomach again, your eyes quickly closing.

“I will. Hey you mind if I call again tomorrow night? I don’t have any plans and sitting in a hotel room by myself isn’t very fun.” You smiled and felt heat in your cheeks, quickly thinking it away. He wanted company for a few minutes was all and you were friends. It was completely normal to talk with friends on the phone everyday.

“Of course. As long as you get a dinner in at some point that’s more than fine with me,” you said. “We can talk about The Bachelor!”

“Oh God no,” he groaned, chuckling after a few seconds. “I’ll settle for Grey’s Anatomy.”

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

“I haven’t watched that yet. I’m working up to it,” you said. 

“Work faster woman. I only know legit everything about that one,” he chuckled. “But probably not a good idea to watch that one until I get back and you're not alone. First episode is kinda scary.”

“Oh well thanks for that,” you said, watching the clock tick by, knowing it had to be almost seven out there. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight Jensen.”

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

“Arrow,” you said after she’d flung her pasta bowl all over herself, covering her hair and face. She sniffled and you forced a smile. “Okay. How about a bath after dinner?”

Fifteen minutes later JJ and Zeppelin were in the movie room watching a cartoon while you had Arrow in the kids bathroom, scooping up some water over her head in the tub.

“Well hello ladies,” you heard behind you. You jumped and spun around, glaring for a moment before you recognized Jensen.

“Just me,” he said, backpack still on his shoulders. 

“Daddy I got ziti all over my head,” she said.

“You did?” he asked, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket, kneeling down next to you. You got the last bit of sauce off and squirted some shampoo in her hair, Jensen watching you with a smile. “How was your day?”

She told him all about breakfast and daycare, playing with a few toy boats with him while you rinsed out the soap. You did a bit of conditioner before getting it out as well and putting the spray nozzle back.

“I got the rest if you wanna get the dryer ready?” he asked you, reaching for the soap. You swapped spots with him, Jensen washing her up while she kept talking about her day. By the time he was all done you had the dryer out and plugged in, Jensen picking her up and wrapping her up in a big bundle of towels before he set her on the counter. You went to work drying her hair, Jensen draining the tub and finding some pajamas for her.

“Do you want your hair up or down, sweetie?” you asked. She tried gathering it up and you grabbed her soft scrunchie perfectly fine for sleeping in from the counter. You put her hair up in a soft little bun, Jensen making an adorable sound when he returned.

“Aw, you look so cute, baby. I’ll be right there alright?” he said. She hopped off the counter and got dressed, rushing off downstairs when she was all done. “Survive the day?”

“Somehow we always do,” you said, gathering up the towels. “Kids are in the movie room.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna shower but we’re all good for the night,” he said. “Thanks for watching them this week.”

“You gotta go do your job,” you said. “You working on a movie or something? You never said.”

“Uh gonna be in a show called The Boys,” he said. “I’m gonna be one of the superheroes so I gotta go out and get my suit made all special for me every so often.”

“You’re gonna be a supe! That’s so fucking cool!” you said. He grinned and you blushed, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so not appropriate.”

“I don’t see any little ears around,” he chuckled. “You like the show then?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Like no other show consistently makes me go what the fuck did I just see. That’s so cool you get to be a supe though. Are you a one off or like a main character?”

“I’ll be very present in the next season. Gonna deal with the seven, all that,” he said. “I’m gonna be Solider Boy.”

“I can see that. You have that all American boy thing about you.”

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased. 

“Well remember to not stay up too late. You have the gala tomorrow night remember?”

“Yes mom,” he said as you walked out. “Get the kids some takeout for dinner tomorrow and yourself.”

“Sounds good boss,” you said. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

You froze from where you were mixing up some brownie batter with JJ at the kitchen counter as Jensen popped downstairs. He was in a gorgeous black suit, a maroon pocket square and no tie going on, his hair scruffier looking than normal.

He started to laugh and you realized you were staring, your cheeks feeling hot as you went back to stirring.

“Mmm, you guys save me a brownie or two for when I get home?” he asked, leaning over and dipping his finger in the bowl of cream cheese frosting.

“We’ll spare one for dad,” you said, Jensen going back for seconds. “Ah, ah. No.”

He dipped his finger in and got another fingerful, kissing the top of JJ’s head and the twins at the counter.

“Be good for Y/N guys!” he called as he rushed out.

You whistled and he jogged back, catching you holding up his phone from the counter.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and pecking a kiss on your cheek. You looked up at him and he froze. “I am so sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. Go have fun and be all charitable,” you said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out, JJ scratching her head.

“Dad’s kinda weird sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, he is. But so is everybody,” you said. “Let’s get this in the oven so you guys can pick out colors for your frosting, hm?”

“I really shouldn’t. But I really should,” you said to yourself, plopping your second brownie of the night in a bowl and sticking a scoop of ice cream on top. You carried it over to the couch and lay back, watching TV on the big screen as you heard the door open. Jensen came into view a minute later, taking his jacket off and groaning as he washed up at the sink. He went to the tray of brownies on the counter and picked one up with a big sigh. “Fun night?”

He jumped and whacked his head against the cabinet above, hissing before he spun around.

“You okay?” you asked. He nodded and left the brownie behind, pushing his sleeves up before taking a seat on the other end of the lounger.

“Y/N I’m really sorry about the kiss on the cheek. That was so inappropriate. You’ve kinda implied that there was some stuff that’s happened to you at other jobs you found over the line and I’m really truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t...I forgot you’re my employee for a moment. I really am sorry.”

“Jensen if I had a problem with it or you or your behavior I would quit on the spot. I don’t let myself get pushed around anymore. You were happy and busy and you pecked a kiss on my cheek, not reach a hand down my pants. It’s really okay. You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. It’s barely ten which means you left as soon as you could. You’re supposed to be out having fun,” you said.

“I was kinda freaking out that you hated me,” he said.

“Dude you gotta relax,” you said. “Have a brownie and some ice cream.”

He got up and after a minute took a seat at the other end with a bowl of his own, smiling as he got a taste.

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

“I know,” you said, Jensen smirking. “Do you feel better now silly boy? I promise that if you ever do anything I find inappropriate I will promptly kick you in the balls.”

“I can agree to that,” he said. He ate for a moment, watching the TV and laying back. “Do you ever like, want to go do things with your friends on a Saturday night? If you do that’s totally cool. These aren’t normal hours anyways.”

“Being a nanny eats up a lot of your social life,” you said. “Kinda got kicked out of my friend group after I broke up with my ex anyways.”

“Well they sound like they suck,” he said.

“Yes, they do,” you said. “I don’t mind so much. I meet plenty of new people through work. Only person you can depend on is yourself and I don’t tend to let myself down.”

“That’s a very lonely way to go through life,” he said.

“It’s not easy to make friends in your thirties,” you said. “Maybe for someone like you who travels and meets new people a lot and stuff but you have like, real friendships. You know?”

“Well we have a real friendship, don’t we? You’re friends with Jared and Rob and Ruthie and Rich,” he said. “I don’t trust just anybody with my kids. That’s real.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a bite. “So when’s your friend free?”

“Hm?”

“Blind date guy. Maybe he could be a friend if things work out,” you said.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he actually got a gig up in Canada so you might need to wait like a month or so. But he’s excited to meet you,” said Jensen.

“Can I have his number?” you asked. “Or do you think that’d be weird?”

“No, not weird. I think he just kinda wants to do it old school if that’s okay. Meet you first and go from there.”

“This friend of yours better be like super hot,” you said.

“If it’s a problem-“

“I can respect him wanting to do things like that. But I’m gonna want a firm date soon,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to get you one,” he said. “I’ll get it down tomorrow, promise.”

“He better not mind me eating like this either. I ain’t a salad on the first date kinda girl. He’s gonna need to keep up with my eating while were at it,” you said. He snorted in his seat beside you and ran his hand over his face.

“I will keep that in mind. I have occasionally had dessert first truth be told,” he said.

“This is why I like you Ackles. You get my sweet tooth,” you laughed.

“It’s a good thing your dinners are healthy cause I swear I haven’t consumed this many baked goods in months,” he said. “The kids love it and my stomach loves it though.”

“I’m gonna need to start working out though if I keep this up. Oh hey is it okay if I do laps in the pool in the mornings? I’ll be super quiet and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta ask,” he smiled. “Like I said when you started, you got free reign to use the pool, the gym, whatever, aside from my room. You a swimmer?”

“Not really but I hate running and supposedly it’s a good workout or something,” you shrugged, eating another bite of brownie.

“Anything in the gym you’re free to use. I know you must get a little bored sometimes when I’m gone and the kids are,” he said.

“Not bored per say. Ordinarily I would do more chores but you have like a cleaner and a landscaper and you just...give me more time in the day than I’m used to is all. It’s actually great though. It gives me plenty of time to come up with ideas for the kids and stuff.”

“Well as long as you’re taking breaks and your lunch do as you please,” he said, his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

“Now that’s just sad.”

“I really should get another one of these,” he said, sucking the spoon.

“It’s really the only choice you have,” you said. He laughed as he hopped up, skirting back into the kitchen and fixing up another brownie and ice cream combo.

“Hey you want more, Dee?” he asked. You popped your head up and he spun around. “I’m-“

“Don't apologize, Jensen,” you said. He tapped his fingers against the counter and took a deep breath, putting his back to you.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that,” he said. 

“Jensen. There’s nothing wrong with missing your wife.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

“It was...she wasn’t…” he trailed off. He sat down on a barstool and you got up, walking over and hopping up on the counter beside him. You set your feet in the stool next to his and paused before you put a hand on top of his head and ran your fingers through the short strands. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“Death is the price for living. Pain’s the price for caring. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” you said. You started to move your hand away when he turned his head. 

“Don’t…” he said, easing when you played with it gently again. “That’s always calmed me down since I was a little kid.”

“Someone should take care of you every once in a while you know. Your parents, siblings, friends. Everyone needs a break.”

“I had a lot of help at the beginning. I don’t need a whole day. Just a moment here and there,” he said quietly.

“It’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. He nodded and you played with his hair a few moments, watching his shoulders ease. This time when you pulled away he smiled up at you. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you. That’s not in your job description to do that sort of thing.”

“Well I think your wife would want somebody to watch your back, even for only a minute or two,” you said.

“You don’t have any brain aneurysms I should know about, do you?” he chuckled. 

“No. That what happened?” you asked, a single nod coming from him.

“She was sleeping. Not a bad way to go I was told, you’d never even know,” he said. “Not a fun thing to wake up to in the morning though.”

“My dad had a mass at the back of his head. It was that same kind of thing where one second it’s fine and the next everything’s different deal. It was inoperable. Then he goes and dies from a car accident of all things before it got bad. My mom had a hard time with that.”

“You said she had a boyfriend later on right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know you’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. You ruffled his hair and he smiled, a soft look on his face. “Pro tip too from someone who’s been there, kids with a single parent turn out just fine.”

“Do they ever wish they had another parent?” he asked.

“They wish the parent they still have around is happy again someday. They won’t understand until they’re older that it’s a different kind of love between parents. But they’ll know it’s a little different and they’ll hope dad feels better too. Your kids are tough. They’ll be okay too.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. You hopped off the counter and washed up your dish, sticking it in the dishwasher before you went to leave for your room. “So I gotta ask. Who takes care of you?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself. He shrugged and smiled, your gaze going past him. “I’m all good. I don’t need somebody to take care of me.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You know my friend tells me everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes.”

“That’s the difference between us Jensen. You’re not like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his face scrunching up suddenly.

“It means you’re not on your own and even if you feel like it, it’s only been a little while. You’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You haven’t lived my life and I haven’t lived yours. Don’t try to tell me that I’m not capable of-”

“It’s not about what you’re capable of. You said pain is part of life, it’s the price for living. You’ve had more than your fair share-”

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

“Don’t compare your pain to someone else's. They haven’t lived your life,” he said. You rolled your eyes and started to walk away, Jensen out of his seat and catching up with you in the hall. “You can be taken care of too you know.”

“By who? My non-existent circle of friends? My crappy ex? My mom’s ex boyfriend who’s got his own wife and kids? I am perfectly fine managing all of this by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re so frustratingly annoying,” he said, running his hand over his face. “Me. I’m talking about me. You just...you took care of me tonight. The least I can do is show you the same compassion.”

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

“Because taking care of me turns into you walking into my shower without my permission and you being a dick and this going away and I don’t want you to be those things so no. We’re getting too friendly. Please leave me alone tomorrow.”

You left him in the hall and went down to your area of the house, shutting the door after you. There was quickly a knock and you growled, ripping it open.

“What?” you snapped at him.

“I am not going to hurt you or be a dick to you or whatever else you think. You need to realize in the real world, not everyone is an asshole.”

“You’re the one not living in the real world then, Jensen. Everybody’s an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. But I’m not leaving until you say I can take care of you tomorrow. Two minutes is all I’m asking for.”

“This is my part of the house.”

“And technically I am outside your door,” he said. “Why are you so resistant to somebody doing something nice for you?”

“Because I don’t wanna get used to it,” you said. He stared and you shook your head. “You’re attractive and an actor and kind and funny and it’s not a matter of if you date again but when and when that day comes, we ain’t gonna be sitting on the couch eating ice cream anymore. Please do not invite me to anymore outings as a friend. I’ll attend if required as a nanny but this between us is done.”

“For the record, the only one around here that thinks of you as just the hired help is you. My children are completely like their old selves. I feel more like my old self. You seem happier than when I met you but for some reason, that’s a big problem to you. I do not understand that.”

“Leave or I resign and move out first thing,” you said. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “This is my formal resignation then. The company will-”

He moved quickly and you weren’t sure what he was doing at first but soon you realized he was hugging you, your hands resting against his chest. You swallowed and he didn’t move, your forehead resting against him.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“When’s the last time you got a fucking hug?” he asked.

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly. 

“Then you are overdue,” he said. You let yourself reach your arms around him and return the hug, breathing deeply, a small bubble in you rising up. You tried to push it down but it came back harder and you were fighting back tears before you knew it. 

He could feel when you lost that battle, hand rubbing up and down your back. There was a soft shushing in the air and after a few minutes you felt better. You lifted your head but didn’t look at him, Jensen squeezing you in his hug again before it eased.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit on me...like ever,” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, Jensen smiling at you when you forced your head up. He wiped off your cheeks and you let out one last sniffle. “You’re not alone. I promise you’re not. It’s not the quantity of people you have in your life but the quality and I’m sorry but we are friends and there’s nothing you can do about that so I’d just accept it now.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“You were scared, not a bitch,” he said. “I wish I could make you happier is all.”

“I wish I could bring back your wife for you,” you said.

“One of those is a lot more possible than the other,” he said. A small smile crossed his lips before he ducked his head down, shoulders heaving back before his head raised. “Y/N, can I confess something to you? I hope...I hope it doesn’t bother you but if it does, you don’t have to continue working for me. I’d still like to be friends regardless.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, Jensen looking past you.

“My single friend I was going to set you up with? He doesn’t exist.”

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

“Oh,” you said, staring at him, a lot of his previous behavior starting to click into place. “That’s…”

“I know,” he said, stepping away and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s weird and douchey and I’m sorry. I like you and I was trying to see if you would ever go for a 42 year old actor. I left out the widow and kids part but...I’m sorry.”

“When did you like me?” you asked quietly.

“The whole time?” he said, laughing nervously to himself. “It’s kinda snowballed since we met. I never in my life thought I’d like someone again. I didn’t want to like you. I hired you because you were the best candidate and I knew the kids would be in good hands but everyday it’s there, even more, and I know this is so inappropriate on so many levels and I’m really starting to ramble here but you make me think maybe your mom had a point and people are allowed to have...more than one…and sometimes the way you talk to me and treat me and look at me...” 

He swallowed as you stepped in front of him, taking a quick breath. 

“I will keep working for you and I’ll be your friend...and you can make me dinner tomorrow,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see where it goes from there?”

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

“By your age, you’re my boss or the cheeky lying about a fake friend?” you said.

“All of the above.”

“Age doesn’t bother me. You have no idea how to be a boss, no offense, and the friend...I don’t blame you for wanting to test the waters first,” you said. “But I expect honesty from here on out.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

“You do like me right?” he asked. “Like you don’t feel obligated or-”

“I like you Jensen. Why do you think I was trying to push you away before you got too close? I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“Give me a chance to not,” he said. “We can have dinner and see how it goes from there.”

“Normally the best course of action,” you said.

“But maybe with a few more hugs from now on,” he said. “For the both of us.”

“That’d be okay with me,” you said. He smiled and you returned it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“I guess you will,” he said. He turned to go when he spun back on his heels. “Or we could go back out there, eat way too much dessert and hang out?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Give me a minute to wash up my face.”

“Take all the time you want. I’m gonna change into something more comfortable anyways.”

He left and you washed off your face in the bathroom, drying it off and taking a deep breath.

You did like him. There was something calming about him to you and you enjoyed his company, even if it was just the two of you having a quiet cup of coffee in the morning.

But he was an actor. And kinda famous. And a widow. And had three kids. 

“But your face is cute,” you said aloud, looking the mirror. “Gah, of course you have to be like...into me. Nutjob. He must be a nutjob. That’s it.”

“Y/N?” you heard him saying and you smacked yourself in the face. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stepping out and seeing him in the hall sporting a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. “That was fast.”

“Well I didn’t go through an eight step skin routine too,” he chuckled.

“For your information, my routine is only three steps,” you said, walking past him and waggling your fingers.

“I didn’t realize I was living with such a savage,” he said. You laughed and went back to the kitchen, making up another dish of brownie for him while he went over to where he kept his liquor. “You a bourbon kind of girl?”

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

“Touche.” He poured out two glasses and slid one over while you passed his bowl to him. “So what’s this three step routine? Do I need to up my game or what?”

“I think I need your routine, not the other way around,” you said.

“Nah. I like looking at your face more than mine. Trust me.”

“Oh. How long you been holding back those kinds of comments?” you teased.

“Longer than you’d think,” he said, sharing the bowl with you. “Feel okay now?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I cried,” you said. “Especially in front of someone.”

“A good cry session has never hurt in my experience. I’ll do it for work and stuff but normally I’m not much of one. Aside from the past six months I mean.”

“Are you ready to try this?” you asked.

“Yeah. I know I am,” he said. “I’m positive of it.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you make me happy. You make me...want to do stuff again, believe in all the romantic...if I wasn’t ready, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t. I just know that maybe some people get more than one chance and maybe I’m one of them.”

“I know you are, whoever it ends up being,” you said.

“Are you ready to try this?”

You took a drink and bite of ice cream, pushing the bowl back.

“I miss my family,” you said. “I miss being happy. I’d like to...have someone that could take care of me for a moment every once in a while. I might mess that up sometimes but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’d expect some screw ups on this end too. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed all that much,” you said.

“Well I’ve never dated with kids and as a widow,” he said.

“I’m just in this for them to be honest,” you laughed. 

“I see how it is,” he said with a smirk. 

“I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think,” you said.

“I hope not,” he said. 

“Do they know? You want to date?”

“JJ does,” he said. “She’s little but she understands that it doesn’t mean I’ll never love her mother any less. She’s been strangely okay through this whole thing aside from the first few weeks. She helps her brother and sister out more now.”

“As someone who was that kid, minus the siblings, I know they’ll be okay. She’s a great kid. I’ve met plenty of spoiled brats. Yours are not.”

“Well that might just be the second best thing I’ve heard tonight,” he said.

“Whatever was the first?” you teased, eating a spoon of ice cream.

“Oh I think you know,” he said, stealing the spoon back. You smiled and heard some feet run around upstairs before the stairs creeped and a little head ducked down into view. “Arrow. It’s bedtime sweetie.”

“I had a accident,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Want help?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. He scooped up Arrow on the way up the stairs, setting her down in the kids bathroom. He got some clean pajamas and you found a pair of pull ups, Arrow pouting at you. 

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

“Your brother wears them. I wore them and your mommy and daddy wore them. Everybody wears pull ups when they’re your age,” you said.

“Just tonight,” she said, stepping into them. Jensen walked past with the mattress liner and she was dressed by the time you heard the washer going off in the distance. You walked her back to bed, Jensen slipping in past you and tucking her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night sweetie,” he said, kissing her temple. 

“Night Y/N,” she said.

“Night night kiddo,” you said, giving her a tiny wave before you left, Jensen flipping off her light and pulling the door shut. 

“Come here a second,” he said, nodding and you saw him head towards his room. The double doors were open and you stepped inside, Jensen going past the bed and over to a set of french doors. He pushed one open and waved for you to follow, showing you out to a rooftop balcony.

“Wow,” you said, a set of chairs, a table and a lounger out there along with a whole lot soft string lights. “I didn’t realize you had this up here.”

“Kinda a place to go unwind, relax,” he said. “I disappear out here sometimes. Been out here a lot at night lately.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

“You,” he said. “I talk to Dee about you sometimes as crazy as that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” you said.

“I just wanted to say...this area isn’t off limits anymore. Nothing is,” he said. 

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” you said with a smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “You’re cute.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, heading back towards inside.

“Come on, Jensen. Before the ice cream melts on us.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 12

Chapter 1     Chapter 11

The dining room was only slightly less formal than the entry way.  It was decorated in deep tones and dark wood meant to evoke grandeur and pageantry. It still spoke of old money and cold families.  There was no evidence of laughter over inside jokes, gasping at stories about someone’s day, discussions of dreams, or fatherly advice doled out over a lovingly cooked dinner that everyone worked on together.

Marinette held back as everyone made their way into the dining room, letting them claim their usual seats, prepared to take whatever seat was left.  She was hoping to cause as little upset and disturbance as possible.  Her plan was foiled when Duke jumped up from his seat and moved down one spot.  “Hey, Marinette.  Take this seat.”  

Marinette opened her mouth to object but stopped when Jason put his hand on her back to guide her to the seat.  “Lost cause.  Don’t even bother,” he muttered low enough for her to hear.  Marinette looked back at him uncertainly but nodded in understanding. She breathed a small sigh of relief when Jason took the other seat next to her.

Dick pouted at the seating, but took the seat across from her instead, grabbing the seat quickly from the right as Tim was just about to drop into it from the left.  Tim grumbled something about annoying puppies and took the next seat over, causing Damian to scowl and redirect himself to a different seat. “Damian!” Dick called out to him. He patted the seat next to him.  

Damian huffed and sent Marinette a glare as he took his not normal seat beside Dick.  He squirmed in the seat.  It wasn’t his usual seat and he could feel the difference.  It felt off.  It felt wrong.  He didn’t like it at all.  This was not his routine.  This was not what he was comfortable with and it was all her fault.  They were playing a charade for her.  They were making themselves uncomfortable for her.

Marinette watched politely as M. Pennyworth set the plates down in front of everyone.  When he was done, he exited quietly.  Marinette watched him leave the room as the rest of the family took bites of their food.  M. Wayne had called M. Pennyworth a father and Jason had called him a grandfather, but he didn’t eat with them?  And addressed them all as Master or Miss?  Did none of them know what family was supposed to be?  What it was supposed to mean?  Because that, wasn’t it.  And honestly, if that’s what they thought it was, she had serious concerns about joining their ‘family’.

She looked back to Jason and tried to send him a message with her eyes to ask him about it without having to say it out loud and draw attention to herself.  She cleared her throat quietly, hoping it was quiet enough that just Jason would hear but everyone looked at her.  She looked at their eyes before returning hers to her plate.  “Sorry,” she said quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bruce said kindly.  His eyes were filled with concern and a touch of worry.  He wanted her to eventually feel like this was her home too and if he wanted that to happen, she needed to feel comfortable here.  “Did you need anything?”

“No, no, no,” Marinette insisted, shaking her head and sending him a weak smile.  “It’s nothing.  The dinner looks amazing.”

“If there’s anything you don’t like…” Bruce started.

“No!  Of course not,” Marinette exclaimed.  “This looks really delicious.”  She was waving her hands frantically.  It was all going wrong already.  She was causing a commotion.  From the moment she’d walked into his life, she’d caused nothing but commotion.  She was really hoping to break the cycle tonight and get closer to the kids in the family.

Bruce watched her uncertainly, but nodded.  “Because if you want anything else, we have a huge kitchen and pantry,” Bruce tried to assure her.

Marinette’s eyes grew even bigger and her movements more frantic.  “Jesus, B. Lay off her.  She already said she was fine,” Jason grumbled.  “You’re going to give her a complex.”

Somehow, Marinette’s eyes got wider and her face went slack.  “No, no. It’s fine.”  She turned to Bruce with a desperate look.  “I’m fine.  Thank you for your concern.”

“Marinette,” Bruce stated with a touch of exasperation. He didn’t know what he had to do to get her relax, to get her to believe she wasn’t going to make him not want her. “Just let me know.”

Marinette nodded rapidly.  “Of course.”  She looked around the room taking note of the pasted on, polite smiles while they took silent bites.  She could feel her shoulders curling in on her as the quiet continued.

“How was your day today?” Bruce prompted Marinette after the first few bites in uncomfortable silence.

She nearly dropped her fork in surprise.  “Oh, it was pretty good,” she answered with a polite smile.  And oh God, this was the most awkward thing she had ever done.  She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a breath.  It wasn’t going to change unless she did something to change it.  “I’m glad you had a meeting this morning so we missed out on the Penguin.  I mean sorry about the meeting, but I think it worked out for the best.”

She fought the urge to openly examine the people around the table.  They had all frozen at her mention of the Penguin, but all seemed to be trying to pretend like they hadn’t.  Their smiles became forced.  She wasn’t sure if it brought back bad memories or scared them how close M. Wayne had been to getting taken by the Penguin.  If they had stuck to their original plan, he could have been able to take him.

Bruce chuckled politely, tightly.  “Definitely a better result.  I would still like to go to the art museum with you though.”

“Do you have room for someone else?” Dick asked perking up.  “I’d like to get in on that.  Cass?” He looked over to Cass to see how she felt.  When she nodded excitedly he looked over to Damian.  “Damian would love to go to, right Damian?”  Damian leaned back in his chair and focused on the food, refusing to look at Dick.  “Damian’s in,” Dick enthused.

Tim snorted but realized his mistake as soon as the sound came out.  He looked warily over at Dick who was giving him an overly wide smile.  Tim turned to Marinette with an artificial smile.  “I’d love to.”  Duke shaking his head caught his eyes and he grinned maliciously. “Duke loves the art museum.  We can’t go without him too.”

Duke froze and narrowed his eyes at Tim for a fraction of a second before smiling at Marinette.  “If you don’t mind the company.”

Marinette looked between them.  The only one who seemed to actually be happy about it was Dick. Everyone else seemed like this was the last possible thing they’d ever want to do.  She plastered on a smile, unwilling to be the cause of discord in the family.  “No. Yeah.  That sounds… fun.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at her.  “You’re being insincere,” he accused harshly.

“Damian!” Bruce scolded loudly.  “That was uncalled for.”

Dick looked at him with disappointment. “Damian.  It is not okay to treat a guest… your sister like that,” he added after Bruce finished.

Jason was tense, preparing to step in if Damian said even one more word to Marinette.  He knew she already didn’t feel welcome in Bruce’s life, let alone his home.  He sure as Hell wasn’t going to let Damian solidify that belief.

Marinette stared at Damian wide eyed.  He wasn’t wrong, but she thought everyone kind of understood the reasoning behind it.  It wasn’t ideal, but it was expected.  Not to mention she wasn’t the only one.  She looked around the room and finding varying levels of disappointment, concern for her, and annoyance with Damian.  She looked over at Damian trying to gauge his goal.  

Roy and Jason had warned her that he would try to intimidate her, likely attack her.  And she guessed she should have expected to defend herself.  But again, he wasn’t wrong.  What he was accusing her of; not being entirely honest, she wasn’t.  None of them were.  But when she looked in his eyes, it wasn’t hostility she saw, not completely.  It was confusion, uncertainty, unease, and yes, a fair amount of hostility.  And wasn’t that the issue she was having with them too?  That they didn’t seem to be sincere with her?  But while she curled in, he lashed out.

“You’re not wrong,” she admitted quietly.  The room fell silent again and Damian looked up at her with a confused scowl.  She met Damian’s gaze and gave him a small smile.  “We’re all being varying levels of insincere.  This is an awkward, uncomfortable, scary situation.  For all of us, I imagine.  Again varying levels of that.  Maybe for you and me more than the rest.  You’re the baby and I’m…”  She let it trail off leaving ‘unwanted’ unsaid, hoping they would fill in the sentence with a more palatable adjective.  One she wouldn’t have to discuss with concerned looks and sympathetic smiles.

“You guys don’t want to offend me and I’m trying desperately not to offend you, but we don’t know each other well enough to know how to do that or what we need to do to ease the tension.  We’re trying to figure each other out, so nobody gets hurt. You or me.”  She knew she was rambling but it was honest, coherent rambling at least.  Maybe not completely, but it was the truth.  And Damian was right.  They weren’t being themselves and they weren’t going to get to know each other until they were.  

“I don’t want to expose too much and scare you away or give you the ammunition to really hurt me, if that’s what you’re going to do.  And I imagine you guys are afraid of driving me away by saying the wrong thing.  And how do you know what the wrong thing is until you know someone?  So we’re all on edge.  Not ourselves.  We don’t feel safe to be ourselves yet.  And how can you be sincere when you’re not yourself?”

Cass smiled warmly at her and nodded in agreement. Jason wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.  “Except me. She’s herself around me, so suck it.” He stuck his tongue out at the rest of the family, like the mature, tough, dangerous, vigilante he was.

“Oh my God, Jason.”  Marinette shook her head and dropped it in her hands.  “That’s because I was drunk off my ass and didn’t have the ability to pretend when we met.”

“That’s French for ‘because you’re the best’,” Jason assured them with a completely straight face.

“It definitely isn’t,” Dick rolled his eyes, but his lips were turned up in a smile.  “If you want to talk about him behind his back in front of his face in French, let me know,” Dick winked at her.  “I haven’t gotten to practice my French in a while.”

“It sounds like Jason took advantage of you in a weakened state.  Terrible brother behavior,” Tim insisted.  He shook his head in mock disappointment.  “You deserve better.”

“Who?  You?” Jason squawked, affronted at the suggestion.

“I was going to say Duke, but if I’m the first one that comes to mind when you think of best brother, I mean, I’m not going to argue,” Tim shrugged with a smirk.

“You say Jason is always wrong and you’re always right, so…” Duke added with a grin.  He turned to Marinette.  “Sounds like you and me are going to form an alliance.  New Kids Club.”  He turned his head slightly when Cass made a noise.  “And Cass.”  He smiled when Marinette giggled.

“Let’s not form alliances and cliques or hog Marinette, please?” Bruce asked, the resignation clear in his voice but affection clear in his eyes.

Marinette nodded and turned serious. “Absolutely.  I will not form any kind of pact with Duke and Cass over lunch next week?”  She looked between the two of them for confirmation. Duke and Cass nodded back at her and Marinette grinned.  “Monday?”

“Hey!” Dick objected.

Jason gasped at her and dropped his arm from around her shoulder.  “This feels like a betrayal.  I’m betrayed.”  He shook his head and took a bite of food.  “You’ll fit right in.”

Duke shook his head.  “Can’t Monday.  I have a poetry thing.”

Marinette’s eyes brightened.  “Are you presenting or watching?”

Duke looked down shyly and rubbed the back of his neck.  He hadn’t even told the rest of the family about it.  It didn’t occur to him that they would be interested.  “Presenting actually.”

“Would you mind if I came too?  Or do you not like people you know being there?”

Duke shrugged.  “No, I don’t mind, but…” he cringed slightly, “it isn’t in the best part of town.  It’s kind of dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, I can protect you,” Marinette winked at him.  She ignored Damian’s scoff and Bruce’s choke.

Jason rolled his eyes.  “Don’t worry, I’ll go too.  I’ve never heard the kid read.”

“I’d like to come too,” Dick looked at them hopefully, “if you don’t mind.”

Duke made a noise that sounded like some combination of happy and resigned and nodded.  “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

“You okay with Adrien and Max coming too?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah, bring them.  It’ll be nice to meet them.”  He waved off her concern.  “Okay, that’s fun and all but we still need to decide when to not meet for the New Kids Club.  And I’m not putting that in my nonexistent calendar for,” Duke looked up questioningly, “Thursday lunch?”

Marinette looked over to Cass who nodded excitedly at her.  Marinette smiled back at her and Duke.  “Sounds good.”  She pulled out her phone and handed it to him.  “Want to put your number in so we can coordinate?”

“Absolutely!”  He took her unlocked phone and put his number in.

“Can I put my number in too?” Tim asked

“And me!” Dick exclaimed.  

“Yeah, of course,” Marinette smiled at both of them. A real smile.  Thank God Adrien was right.  She kind of liked the kids… even though most weren’t kids and most of them were actually older than her.  

“Why don’t you put all our numbers in there, Tim,” Dick suggested.

“Tt,” Damian scoffed.  “There’s no reason she would need my number.”

Bruce gave him a disappointed look, but Marinette shrugged.  “Please, don’t put it in if he isn’t comfortable with it.”

Tim pursed his lips.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  What if she finds a cute animal?  How’s she supposed to send you the picture?”  Damian scowled but didn’t say more.  Tim finished and handed the phone back to Marinette.

Marinette took it back with a thank you and scrolled through her contacts.  “Huh… he didn’t put you in,” she assured Damian.

“What?”  Tim looked at her confused then looked at her phone again.  “Oh, it’s under Demon Spawn.”

Marinette gaped at him.  “It’s under what?”

“Dem…”

“Yeah, no,” she cut him off.  She pushed a few buttons and looked back at Damian.  “Not anymore.  It’s gone.  You can give me your number when and if you’re ready.”  Damian didn’t acknowledge her, but he did nod curtly at his plate and Marinette was taking that as a win.  

She tucked her phone away and looked around the room.  “Okay, so, Duke does poetry, I heard Damian does art, and I heard Dick likes to swing, what does everyone else like to do?” Marinette asked with a bright smile.

Jason and Tim burst out laughing.  “Your reputation proceeds you, Lover Boy,” Jason managed to get out between gasps.

Marinette frowned and looked between them in confusion. “Did I say something wrong?”

Dick smiled warmly at her.  He kept his eye contact with her as he threw a roll at Jason’s head.  “Ignore them. Their minds are in the gutter.  For clarification, I like gymnastics.  I was a trapeze artist in a Haley’s Circus when I was a kid.”

“Oh that sounds fun!” Marinette almost squealed in excitement.  “You must have loved flying through the air.  That was always the best feeling.”

“It was.  I loved it.  The freedom of soaring before gravity took over was amazing,” Dick nodded in agreement. His eyes took on a distant look as he talked about it and a smile curled on his lips.  “Did you do trapeze work in Paris?”  Marinette froze momentarily.  “You mentioned you liked the feeling.  Is that how you know it?” he prompted gently.

“Oh… um… no.”  She looked down at the napkin on her lap for a second, pretending to readjust it.  “I was friends with a few of our local heroes.  One of them, Ladybug swung around the city on a yoyo that worked kind of like a magic rope.  That feeling of swinging up and breaking gravity was always heart racing.  And the feeling of falling until the string caught.” She looked away with a smile. “Yeah, I understand what you’re talking about.”

“We have a trapeze in the manor.  Did you want to try it out sometime?” Dick asked excitedly.  

Marinette grinned.  “That sounds like fun.  I’d love to.”

“How about tomorrow?”

Marinette blinked.  The Waynes definitely moved fast.  There was no time to breathe.  Just moving from one thing directly into the next.  She needed time to think, time to process that they apparently didn’t require.  “I can’t. Sorry.”  Dick’s face fell immediately.  If she didn’t have a legitimate excuse, she’d feel guilty.  “I’ll be in New York tomorrow for business and I’m meeting with Lucius Friday.”

“Saturday then,” Dick offered.  Marinette smiled and nodded causing Dick to almost vibrate in his seat.  None of the other siblings ever wanted to go on the trapeze with him and he was beyond excited to connect with Marinette.

“Did they take you around often?” Bruce asked with forced calmness.  “The heroes,” he explained when she scrunched her face in confusion.  “You said they took you around often enough for you to know what it felt like… where Hawkmoth could see.”  Spending time with civilians in suit was dangerous, incredibly so, even more so doing it in full view of the public.  Something like that could have resulted in Marinette getting targeted.  It was irresponsible and negligent.  He should have never trusted the Parisian heroes or Diana that the heroes could handle Paris without him.

“No,” Marinette said as nonchalantly as she could manage, trying to pretend like she didn’t notice the tightness in his voice. “They rescued me a few times and once things were resolved they would sometimes take people who had gotten caught up in the attacks for short rides like that to bring up morality.  To make them feel better.  It wasn’t unusual or noteworthy, just a public service.”

Bruce relaxed minutely, but the tension in his frame was still clear.  Marinette watched him carefully, trying to gauge if she’d used the right words to calm him.  She could feel her body tensing at exponential rates the longer he was silent, the longer it took him to relax or smile.  Marinette looked down at her plate and pushed her food around with tight lips.

“I like unsolved mysteries,” Tim threw in.  Eyes around the table turned to him, most of them incredulous and tense that he would take the conversation there.  She heard a whispered “Dude,” from somewhere around the table.

Marinette let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding and started laughing.  The eyes that had been on Tim turned to her, making her laugh even harder at the awkwardness of it until another voice joined hers in laughter, followed by another, until most of the table was at least chuckling.  

“My best friend gets into that too,” Marinette nodded with a grateful smile.  She narrowed her eyes playfully at him.  “Do you end up in all night benders following the trail of a mystery down incalculable rabbit holes until you get crazed and someone has to come and force you to sleep too?”

Tim looked shocked and slowly looked around the room before returning his gaze to Marinette.  “No,” he said tentatively.

“Yes,” Cass, Dick, Jason, Duke, and Bruce all chorused at the same time.

“Oooohhh, remind me some time to talk about the Impossible Murder,” Marinette offered.  Her eyes lit up with excitement.  Unsolved mysteries and conspiracy theories she could do.  This was her comfort zone.  Not that she got into it, but years with Alya had taught her the rhythm of inquiry and questions.  She took comfort in that rhythm.  It was something familiar she could lean into.

“Yes!” Tim exclaimed, an inquisitive glint in his eyes.

“No,” Cass, Dick, Jason, Duke, and Bruce all chorused at the same time.

Marinette giggled and winked at Tim.  “We’ll talk later,” she stage whispered to him.  She grinned at the groans she heard around the table.  

Tim turned to Duke and stuck his tongue out at him. “Sounds like we get our own club, just for Marinette and me.  The Investigator’s Club.”

Jason scoffed and took a bite.  “Like I’d want to be part of a club with that name.”

Cass cleared her throat lightly, drawing some attention to her.  “And Cass,” Tim amended.  Cass nodded happily.

“How about you, Cass?”

“Ballet,” Cass answered with a smile.

“Oh, I wish I could do ballet.  Are you in a class or do you do it on your own?  Or are you a professional?”  Marinette asked trying to keep her voice from getting too excited or invested.  Bruce had mentioned she didn’t talk a lot and Marinette didn’t want to pressure her to talk if she didn’t want to, but she also didn’t want to make her feel like she was ignoring her.

“Fun.”

Marinette nodded.  “I bet it’s a nice way to relax.”

“Not as good as shooting guns though,” Jason grinned. “Or blowing things up.”

Bruce sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Jason…” he started, not even bothering to try to finish the sentence.

Marinette blinked a few times then nodded.  “Uh huh.  I like sewing,” she responded dryly.  Jason laughed and shook his head at her.  He took a bite of his food and looked back at her appraisingly, a happy glint in his eye.

“Right, B mentioned you’re a designer.  Just graduated right?” Dick prompted.

“Yes.  My final project was a few weeks ago.  Now I’m figuring out my next steps.”

“Is that related to your trip to New York?” Duke asked.

Marinette nodded and swallowed the bite she’d just taken. “I’m meeting a few friends and someone at Style Queen to talk about styling a shoot.  And Adrien has a job interview.”  She took a quick bite of her dinner before continuing.  “We’re also trying to get a feel for New York, see if that’s somewhere we would want to move.”

“Wow, Style Queen is really big!” Duke nodded. “That’s awesome!”

Marinette smiled at him.  “Getting on her good side is definitely good for your career. Luckily, I’ve been able to impress her over the years.”

“Along those lines,” Bruce cut in, “I’ve commissioned her to create clothes for us.  We were planning on her coming over to start on Tuesday, so I expect everyone to be here for it.”

Dick beamed at her but Damian grunted loud enough for everyone to hear.  He had absolutely no interest in wearing something purely because ‘his sister’ designed it.  He had a style and level of craft he required in the clothes he wore and he was not about to sit or stand around uncomfortably all day long purely out of some misplaced obligation.

He narrowed his eyes at Marinette.  It still didn’t make sense.  Why would she have come to Gotham if she was looking to break into fashion?  She had to have had an ulterior motive.  “So you just happened to consider Gotham as a place to reconsider?”

Marinette cocked her head to the side.  “No…” she scrunched her face in a bit of confusion. “I never even considered it. Gotham was a side trip.  I had no intention of staying past earlier this week. But things… changed,” she looked around sheepishly before looking back at him.  “I was considering New York or Metropolis in America.  Also Shanghai, I have family there; London, Adrien has family there; Milan, my… grandmother grew up there.”

“Is Adrien your boyfriend?” Tim asked.

“No.  My... brother,” her voice petered out as she called the word and she looked down guiltily.

“Will he be part of your business?” Bruce asked, pretending like he hadn’t registered her discomfort, hoping that if they moved past it, she would too.

“Yes. No. Maybe.” Marinette grimaced as she went through all the options.    She shrugged.  “Whatever he wants.  He wasn’t allowed to make choices growing up so now that his father,” she spit the word out with disgust, “is gone, I’m going to let him decide his next move. He wants to help, but he’s looking for a teaching job.  He’s thinking of doing both for a while.  I’m hoping I can convince him it’ll be okay for him to focus on him.  It isn’t ‘abandoning’ me if he does.

“But, that's what's taking so long.  I can work from almost anywhere.  I’d prefer to be near a big city, but really, it isn’t necessary. It’s harder to find a place he'd like to teach and we want to live.”

“If he isn't part of your business...” Dick started, trying to figure out her motivation.

“We come as a set,” she said definitively and took a bite, staring him down as if daring him to challenge her.  “He’s my emotional support grimalkin.”

“Will your future romantic partner, if you want one, be okay with that?” Damian demanded.

Marinette shrugged.  She could feel Jason tensing next to her at Damian’s tone, but she wasn’t too bothered by it.  “They will be or they won't be.”

“Those are the options, yes,” Damian deadpanned.

“Demon Spawn…” Jason hissed.

“I meant,” Marinette cut in before Jason could continue the fight he wanted to start, “they will be okay with it or they won't be my romantic partner.  Adrien and I have been through a lot.  We feel safest when the other is near, at least close enough to come running if there’s a problem.  If someone can’t understand that about me, then I don’t need them in my life.”

Bruce nodded and gave her an understanding smile. “We should invite him next time.”

Marinette nodded in agreement.  “He’d love that.  He’s dying to meet you all.”

Bruce took another bite before coming up with an idea.  “If he’s thinking of being part of your business anyway, why don’t you bring him with you when you do the commission?  We can have a family dinner afterword.”

“That’s a great idea.  I’ll check with him,” Marinette nodded.  “And apparently, as long as he doesn’t talk about pineapples with you guys,” she gave Jason a pointed look, “it should be fine.”

Tim groaned.  “No.  No! I’m not having this conversation again.” He glared at Dick.  “Pineapple is the most disgusting topping to put on a pizza.”

Dick gasped dramatically.  “You take that back!”

“It’s worse than sardines,” Tim hissed.  “It’s an abomination.  It’s an insult to pizzas.”

“How dare you!  Pineapple is amazing.  It adds a sweetness that perfectly contrasts the saltiness you get from other ingredients!” Dick defended.

Marinette blinked a few times as Dick continued to sing the praises of pineapple on pizza before she leaned over and whispered to Jason.  “You weren’t joking.”

“Nope,” he said popping the p.  “Told you it always finds a way to come up.”

“It came up because you mentioned it,” Marinette deadpanned.  “Literally you’re the reason it came up.”

He shook his head as if he didn’t hear her.  “It always finds a way.  It’s like sorcery.”

Chapter 13

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8  @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - siblings #It's canon that dick loves pineapple on pizza and tim does not

[tsukishumai]

Your First Fight - Akaashi, Kenma, Oikawa, Kageyama (Setter Squad)

A/N - This was for anon, I’m so sorry, I’m not sure what the heck happened to this post >-< but it’s back, and I fixed the links on the other posts as well!

Ace Edition

Word Count: 2.8k T-T 

I may or may not have gotten carried away with this one  (✿◠‿◠) Buckle up, and I hope u enjoy!  ( ˘ ³˘)

AKAASHI –

You understand why Akaashi wanted to keep your relationship secret. Really, you did. You could already imagine the barrage of overbearing comments, and the teasing that was sure to be a distraction during practice. With Nationals just around the corner, this was the last thing you both needed.

Being the manager of the Fukurodani Volleyball Club, you know better than most just how rowdy the group could actually be. Bokuto may be the loudest one of the bunch, but all the others can be just as provoking.

And to be honest, the sneaking around was kind of hot. You can’t deny you got butterflies every time Akaashi would pull you into the equipment room for a quick make out session, or when he would give your thigh a secret squeeze under the lunch table surrounded by your friends.

But it’s been months now, and frankly, you were kind of getting tired of it. Sure, it may be slightly more convenient for the both of you, but some days you just want to hold your boyfriend’s hand down the hall without having to look over your shoulder.

You’ve only brought it up to Akaashi once before, but he brushed it off by saying it wasn’t the right time, and you were discouraged to try ever since.

You really weren’t planning to bring it up at the Tokyo Representative Playoffs… you really didn’t. But Konoha’s girlfriend showed up to cheer him on, looking so happy and proud in the stands, you couldn’t fight the tinge of envy that started to take over your body.

Akaashi was observant, and he knew you better than anyone. He could see you stealing glances into the stands, could see the tension in your shoulders whenever Konoha’s girlfriend yelled out cheers for him.

He couldn’t stop himself from following you after you told Yukie you were just going to the restroom.

“No good luck kiss?” he called out once the both of you were a safe distance from the team.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone to see,” you said bitterly, not stopping for Akaashi.

Akaashi frowned. “Y/N, you know that’s not true.”

“Well, why else wouldn’t you want to tell anyone about us?” you asked, you finally stopped walking, turning around to give him a hard look.

Akaashi groaned in frustration. “Do we really have to talk about this right here? Right now? I told you, it’s just easier this way.”

You scoffed, and Akaashi hated the sound. “Sorry our relationship is such an inconvenience for you.” You didn’t give him a chance to reply, quickly entering the women’s bathroom, faintly hearing the sound of Bokuto calling your boyfriend’s name behind you.

Akaashi didn’t blame you for the loss against Itachiyama, but he definitely blamed himself.

“Have you seen Y/N?” he asked Bokuto after the game, but the ace just shrugged, too upset about the loss to really care. The whole team had all gathered their things, ready to make their way out of the gym and you still were nowhere to be found.

Akaashi’s worries were relieved, but quickly replaced with new ones when Bokuto spotted you down the hall, cornered by someone wearing a Nohebi uniform.

“So tell me, do you have you a boyfriend?” Akaashi heard him ask, and you finally noticed the team approach you. The evil gleam in your eye didn’t escape Akaashi’s attention.

“No, actually. I don’t.”

It was one thing for you to deny it to your teammates, but to other men? Akaashi shouldn’t be mad that those were the words that came out of your mouth; it was his own fault for putting you in the situation in the first place. He knows you’re just doing what he told you to.

But he was furious, and there was nothing that could have stopped him from grabbing you by the elbow, turning you away from the dirty little snake that dared to talk to you, and crashing his lips onto yours.

You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting from Akaashi, but it definitely wasn’t this. Though, you weren’t complaining, returning his kiss with equal fervor, ignoring the uncomfortable cough from the Nohebi player, and the gasps and shocked exclamations from your teammates.

All you could focus on when he pulled away was Akaashi, blue eyes staring straight into your soul, the next words tumbling out of his mouth was all you’ve wanted to hear for months.

“You’re mine. I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

KENMA –

You’ve been sitting in the same spot on Kenma’s bed for about an hour now. The room was filled with only the sounds emanating from the TV, and your boyfriend’s fingers tapping on the buttons of his controller.

Kenma always did like falling into a hole whenever he bought a new game; you’ve known this about him since you were kids. It wasn’t something you ever really minded, nor did you think it was something you wanted to change. It was a part of him that you simply accepted.

Normally, you were content with reading a book while he played, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, getting lost in different worlds. You both respected each other’s hobbies, and the fact that you could do them together in the same room worked out so perfectly.

However, you finished your book faster than you anticipated, and in your shortsightedness, you failed to bring with you a second book. You tried to read webtoons online, but the light from your phone began to strain your eyes.

“Kenma,” you whined as boredom got the best of you, and the blonde boy didn’t bother to respond, “I’m hungry. Can’t we get something to eat?”

“After,” he grunted, though there were no specifications to when ‘After’ would be.

You sighed, getting up from your spot on the bed to tinker with his things. You walk around his room, running your fingers along the books lined on his shelf, picking up frames that contained happy memories of his life.

You hear your phone ding, signaling a message and you turned to make your way back to the bed.

“Hey!” Kenma exclaimed suddenly, making you jump, “Could you not walk in front of the TV? I just died because of you!”

You stared at him in shock for a second. You had never heard him raise his voice before “Excuse me? So what, it’s just a stupid game.”

“It’s not a stupid game,” Kenma grumbled, his voice back to his usual soft tone, but still held a slight tinge of anger. “You know I’ve been waiting for this to be released. Can’t you just read your book and be quiet like you usually do?”

Kenma immediately knew those were the wrong words to say, regretting the way you face turned into a pout. He watched you begin to gather your things, a slight panic rising in his chest when he realizes you’re trying to leave. “You know what, let me just leave you alone, since clearly my company isn’t wanted –“

You were cut off by Kenma getting up from his spot, opening the bottom drawer of his TV stand to rummage through it. You eyed him curiously until he finally found what he was looking for; pulling out another controller that he connected to the gaming console.

He quietly took your hand, pulling you down to sit on the floor with him. You sat cross legged and confused, wondering what he was doing until he handed you the controller. You stared at it in your lap, a small smile spreading on your face at his silent apology.

He started the game on easy mode, giving you a quick rundown on the basic controls.

“I’ll order us some pizza,” he said quietly, making you give him a soft peck on the cheek.

“Pizza sounds good.”

OIKAWA –

The booming sound of Oikawa’s serves was something that will never cease to amaze you.

Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile your Oikawa Toru – the one that hides behind your hair during scary movies, and asks you to kill the spiders for him – with Aoba Johsai’s Oikawa Toru. To you, they were just two completely different people.

But when you were watching him practice like this, raw power coming from his usually gentle hands, you can’t help but stare at him in awe.

You don’t usually stay this late to watch him practice; on a normal day, your club activities would end at the same time and Oikawa would walk you home, but on days like today where he felt he needed the extra practice, you left him in the care of Iwaizumi.

You were a little surprised, however, when you found Iwaizumi waiting for you at your club room, claiming he really needed to get his part of his group project done by tonight, and if you could please stay and make sure your boyfriend doesn’t kill himself.

How could you say no?

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times Oikawa practiced his serve, the repetitive sound of the balls bouncing and his grunting becoming a sort of hypnotic rhythm for you. Before you knew it, the sun had BEEN down, and the moon had taken its place in the night sky.

You begin to notice the telltale signs of exhaustion, Oikawa struggling to catch his breath, chest heaving up and down, his form beginning to look sloppy.

“Alright,” you say, jumping down from your spot on the bench, “It’s time to go home.”

“One more.”

“Tsk,” you clicked your tongue, walking around collecting the balls, “It’s been hours, Toru. Rest is also a part of training, you know.”

He ignored you, grabbing another ball from the cart, but you just started taking down the volleyball net.

“What the hell are you doing? I said one more!” “And I said it’s time to go home!”

The ear-splitting sound of the volleyball slamming the floor cut through the gym, leaving you frozen in place. “You wouldn’t understand! You may be satisfied with doing the bare minimum for your practices, but my serves have to be perfect! I have to be perfect!” Oikawa’s voice echoed, glaring at you with red eyes, frustration evident on his face.

You didn’t say anything. You stared at him for a moment, then turned around and began the process of closing the gym. Oikawa also chose to stay silent, brown eyes trained on the floor as he gathered his belongings, silently following you once you turned off the lights and locked the door.

The walk home was quiet; the lack of a reaction on your part weighing more heavily on Oikawa than he expected. He snuck a glance at you, but you kept your head forward, steel faced and neutral.

Each step he took was more agonizing than the last, knowing he shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. Your house was beginning to come into view, and he couldn’t leave the night like this.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and your sharp inhale let him know that you heard him.

“I know.”

“I’m exhausted...” and you know he wasn’t just talking about volleyball.

You finally faced him, and gently grabbed his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders as you snaked an arm around his middle. He felt all the tension his body melt away, half expecting to find it puddled around his feet.

“I know,” you said, “But if you ever talk to me like that again, you’re getting a flying fist to the face.”

Oikawa laughed, drawing one out from your own mouth. He placed a kiss on your temple, and gave you full permission to cut his head off if he ever lashed out at you again. He always appreciated how he never had to tell you anything… you always just knew.

KAGEYAMA –

Kageyama had a pretty good weekend, if you asked him.

He woke up early on Saturday morning to go for a run, then got home and had pork curry for lunch. He figures it’s been a while since he’s brushed up on his basic skills, so he went to the local gym and practiced some drills. On Sunday, he was dragged by Hinata to a study group with Yachi, and admittedly gotten more homework done there than he would have on his own.

It was a nice, productive weekend. He entered his Monday with this positive vibe following him around, even morning practice went by smoothly.

He went about his usual routine of waiting for you by the school gates so he could walk you to class. He only waited about ten minutes until you came into view, and Kageyama subconsciously straightened his posture. He tried to push down the little tickle at the pit of his belly when you made eye contact, not wanting to admit he was excited to see you.

“Good morning,” he said as soon as you approached, but his entire mood completely shifted downward when you simply walked passed him.

Where was his usual ‘Good morning, Tobio-kun!’? Why didn’t you stop to give him his morning peck on the cheek? Why didn’t you let him carry your bag for you on the way to class?

Did he do something wrong?

He was so confused, questions running through his head as he simply trailed after you silently.

“Is everything alright?” He tried to ask once you reached your class, but you just gave him a stern look, turning away from him to enter your classroom and take your seat. He was left there looking like an idiot.

He couldn’t focus in class, trying to wrack his brain on why you could possibly be upset. Did he forget an anniversary? Doubtful, you’ve only just started dating. Were you on your period? Kageyama shook his head. Even he knew that would literally be the worst question to ask.

The bell rang to signal the start of lunch, and Kageyama hurriedly gathered his things so he can go find you.

He didn’t have to look very far, though, because when he exited his classroom, he spotted you down the hall.

The second you saw him, you marched your way over; the dark aura you were giving off had made everyone steer clear of you.

Kageyama gulped, wanting to run away before he remembered that he also wanted to talk to you.

“Y/N –“ “You know, I was going to ignore you the whole day, but seeing you this morning just really pissed me off, and unlike you, I actually can’t stand not talking to you.”

Kageyama blinked, happy to hear your voice, but confused at the words you were saying. “Unlike me? What do you mean?”

You crossed your arms and huffed. “Where the hell were you all weekend?”

Again, Kageyama blinked stupidly. “What do you mean? I was home.”

This seemed like the wrong answer, because now your hands moved to your hips, and for some reason, you were ten times more intimidating like that. “So? You never thought to shoot me a text? Or give me a call?”

“Was I supposed to?” Kageyama asked, and the genuine curiosity in his voice made you face palm.

“Did you not want to?” You asked, though there was no hurt behind the question.

“I did.” “So why didn’t you?”

Kageyama thought about it for a moment. “I went to the gym instead.”

You let out a groan of frustration. Honestly, you should have known. It took you three tries before Kageyama even realized you were confessing to him. It took him even longer to realize that he actually had to tell you he liked you back, and that you had no idea that him buying you yogurt meant he was asking you out.

“Tobio-kun,” you said patiently, “If you’re thinking of me, you should text me or call me to let me know.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Even if I have nothing interesting to say?”

You nodded, looping your arm through his and starting your walk to the cafeteria. “Even then. I just want to hear from you.”

Kageyama nodded his head in understanding. “Okay. That’s good to know.”

Your phone never stopped blowing up after that conversation. RIP your notifications.

#haikyu #haikyu!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq hc #hq!! #haikyuu x reader #akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi imagines #akaashi scenarios #akaashi headcanons #kenma #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kozume kenma x reader #kenma imagines #kenma headcanons #oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagines #kageyama #kageyama tobio

[juletheghoul]

Hey sweetie, hope you're doing well. Better than me I hope, in this Texas heat!!!😥🤤 When your muse permits, may I please have some more Dave York? I am a shameless slut for that suburban murder Dilf!!!

Hello lovely!

Okay - so I've written more for the soft!Dave fic I gave a preview for in this post and here and this picks up where that left off.

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader (soft!dave)

Smut under the cut (18+ NO MINORS semi-public touching, p in v sex, oral-female receiving) (word count 2.6k)

All in all it had gone better than he thought. He enjoyed your company - he found you attractive and you liked him. That was all he needed. The fact that you made him laugh had been a bonus. You were his new mission and it wouldn’t have mattered what you were like in all honesty but this was good. This he could work with.

He hadn’t meant to kiss you like that, he planned to take it a little slower, just a little peck to show you he was interested. He definitely didn’t expect you to open up for him like that, and he definitely didn’t expect to enjoy it so much. Another bonus.

He didn’t want to scare you away by reaching out too quickly, figuring a couple of days should be time enough. He wanted to make sure this worked out. He expected the same game of cat and mouse men and women have been playing with each other forever. He had waited to message you - which meant he would probably hear from you in a few hours.

-Hi - It’s Dave from the other night, wondering if you wanted to grab dinner on Friday?

He was doing some reconnaissance for an upcoming job and he wanted to read through his reports; he wasn’t expecting you to respond so quickly. Frankly, it was refreshing.

-Hey! Yes I’d love to, really happy to hear from you =)

He smiled despite himself, he didn’t expect you to be so open and honest.

-I’m glad to hear, I had a great time

He could see you typing your response before he put his phone down so he waited.

-Me too, thought maybe I’d scared you away - usually don’t make out on the first date

-Me either - glad we did though, you definitely did not scare me away. Just at work right now. Maybe we could talk more later?

-Sure! Hope you have a great day =)

-You too!

----

He kept up the communication with you when he got home, answering your messages as he cooked himself a small dinner. He asked you all the questions people usually ask when getting to know someone, he flirted the best he could. He was doing everything in his power to make sure you were interested, without being vulgar. He briefly considered whether this was manipulation, presenting himself in a way he knew you’d respond to in order to secure a relationship. In a sense everyone did this, the difference was they liked the people they were chasing.

He didn't not like you, he just didn’t really like anyone. It all came from his training and subsequently, his job. He learned long ago to not hold onto anyone too close, it hurt more when you lost them.

This was good though, he was content.

----

You couldn’t lie to yourself about how excited you were when Friday came around. He was consistent which was really important to you, he kept up with the messages and asked you actual questions and he seemed interested. It had been so long since you’d dated someone, since you felt excited about someone and seeing his messages gave you butterflies.

You had to stop yourself from running to the door when he knocked; you did your absolute best to reign in your heartbeat as you opened the door.

“Hi - hope I’m not too early.” He smiled - giving you a not so subtle onceover which made you momentarily self-conscious of your outfit choice; he must have taken notice of your expression.

“You look beautiful, are you ready to go?”

“Thank you - you look really handsome - Yes I’m ready.” You smiled as you grabbed your purse and locked your door.

You didn’t think this date could have gone better than the first but it did. He was charming, he was sweet and most importantly he made you laugh. His sense of humour was a lot like yours, dry and witty although you knew you could be a bit goofier than him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up too high but you really liked his company and although it was still early, you could see this getting more serious.

When he walked you to your front door you didn’t play coy.

“I hope you don’t think less of me, but I really want you to kiss me.” You moved closer - peering up at him through your lashes, hoping that you looked sexy.

“I hope you don’t think less of me, but I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.” He was smirking at you and you felt yourself flush. His hand almost engulfed your face as he pulled you in closer.

The kiss was searing; his tongue licked the seam of your mouth - asking for permission which you gladly gave. He deepened it further, pressing you up against your front door- his hands moving from your face to your waist. He slanted his mouth to get deeper, to make you ache. Your hands found themselves in his hair, holding him closely while you pressed your body as close to him as you could. It went on longer than it had any right to.

When he pulled away you were both panting.

“I had a really great time, goodnight.” He kissed you softer then and waited for you to make your way inside. Any longer and you would have pulled him into the house with you by his belt. You were happy he made the decision for you.

----

You had a few more dates and they were going better than you had imagined. He had come over for dinner one night, which ended in a very heavy makeout session on your couch before he went home. He was being really respectful which you appreciated, you really liked him and in the back of your mind you were nervous that he’d lose interest as soon as you gave it up. It was frustrating, because you were reaching your limit.

----

You walked through the parking lot with him hand in hand, on your way into the theatre. He had let you pick the movie - horror of course - and you were excited to cuddle up with him. You had a plan tonight and it sent a hot spike of arousal through your belly.

He didn’t let you pay for anything usually but you insisted he at least let you pay for the snacks, it didn’t seem like he would let you but you gave him a pout and he relented. Smiling good naturedly and grumbling about not making that pout a habit.

You lifted the seat divider as soon as you picked out your seats, making your intentions of getting close quite clear. He seemed to have the same idea; bringing his arm around you and firmly tucking you into his side.

He smells so good you thought to yourself as you leaned into the crook of his neck, barely paying attention to the trailers. His palm rubbed at your arm through the soft material of your sundress as the movie started, the both of you getting lost in it briefly. When it got too gruesome or scary you tucked your face into his neck, bringing your hands up to block out the screen.

You felt him chuckle then, his low velvety voice whispering in your ear.

“We can leave if you don’t want to watch this.” He said it without judgement, caring only for your comfort even though this could have been an excuse for him to have you close. It hardened your resolve.

“No, I want to stay, but I think I'd like it better if you distracted me.” You gave him a mischievous smile, hoping he’d take the hint. Thankfully - he did.

He tipped your chin up and kissed you softly at first, but deeper as time went on. This was going to work, you could feel his desire for you in it. You were afraid he’d be scandalized at what you wanted him to do but you couldn’t wait anymore. You tentatively reached for the arm around your shoulder and brought down to grab your breast. He pulled away suddenly and it made you nervous - maybe he wasn’t into this.

“Here?” He wasn’t scandalized, he was wearing a smirk - seemingly enjoying the thought of it, feeling you up in the movie theatre like a teenager.

“Do you want to? It’s okay if you don’t.” he could see your self-doubt written across your face.

“Only if you promise to be quiet for me.” He whispered it into your ear and you almost let out a moan. He kissed you again and this time you felt his hand dip into the breezy neckline of your dress, surprising you even further by reaching into your bra. He held you close, moving his kisses to your jaw, your pulse point - rolling your nipple between his fingers by the time he reached your ear.

You were breathing a little heavy as he pulled at it slightly, anyone could have looked over and seen the two of you but it didn’t matter - not when it felt so good.

“Is this what you wanted? Does it feel good, baby?” He spoke in a low voice as he bit your ear and you could feel the arousal leaking out of you. He pinched at the other through the fabric as he kissed you again and it was too much, you grabbed at his thigh, breathing out a god yes as he continued his ministrations.

“I wish I could lick them right now, bite them a little bit, would you let me?” He was pulling at the collar of your dress slightly, enough for him to see into your dress a little.

“Right now? What if someone sees?” You were asking even though the thought of his mouth on your tits in the middle of a movie theatre almost made you cum in itself.

“I would be really careful, just a little lick.” He kissed your neck as he spoke and you realized then that you would have let him do whatever he wanted.

“Okay - fast though.” You laughed conspiratorially - you felt reckless and wild, and excited to have him touch you this way. He pulled you close to him, turning in his seat slightly and quickly pulled your dress down along with the cup of your bra. Seeing your breast out while there were -admittedly- very few people in the movie theatre caused your heart to race. He kept his word though, quickly lowering his head to lick your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue around it had you biting your lip to keep your mouth shut. He couldn’t just have one though, pulling down the other cup to lavish the other one with the same attention and then quickly adjusting it so you were decent again.

You didn’t think you could make it through this movie with how your body was responding to him. Your panties were sticking to your body, your slick running freely and his words only served to amp up the arousal.

“Look what you did to me.” He brought your hand to the sizeable bulge in his jeans. You gasped slightly at the size, and suddenly you didn’t want to be in the theatre any more.

“Take me home David, now.” Your tone was iron and he didn’t argue; hastily pulling you up out of your seat in his haste to obey. The grip he had on your waist as he walked through the theatre and through the parking lot made you laugh with nervous excitement. You saw that he had an intensity about him that had you clenching painfully around nothing.

When you arrived at your place you practically ran inside; you had barely managed to close your door when he picked you up. Your arms and legs wrapped around him tightly as he held onto your ass. He walked you towards your room, pausing briefly to push you up against the wall in the hallway, halfway up the stairs, your bedroom door. Finally dropping you onto your bed.

He fell onto you and ground his hips against the soft fabric at your core. He was so thick, the pressure of him grinding into you was just right and you pulled at his shirt - wanting to feel his skin against you and when he took over you sat up to pull your dress off. He had your bra off faster than you thought possible.

“So pretty.” He dove in, sucking and biting at your nipples - drawing out whimpers and moans as you held his head close to your chest. You could see his saliva glistening on the soft skin of your tits when he alternated from one to the other and you couldn’t hold off any more.

“Please fuck me.” You pulled his face up from your chest to breathe the words into his mouth, the coil in your belly was already wound tight and he hadn’t even gone near your pussy yet.

“I didn’t bring a condom.” He looked a bit sheepish now, hoping against hope you’d have one.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean - but we can do other things if you aren’t comfortable.” You stroked his face softly, trying to convey that you wanted him either way. He hastily got up and took the rest of his clothes off while you shimmied out of your underwear. His cock bobbed out when he finally shed his layers, the tip of it weeping slightly - making your mouth water. He was bigger than your last sexual partner and though intimidated slightly, you were excited.

He crawled towards you as you watched him, settling his face between your thighs.

“You liked it when I licked your nipples baby? Look how wet and glossy you are.” He licked a strip from your fluttering entrance to your clit; he parted you with his tongue and focused on your clit, letting his saliva drip down to make you wetter. The steady glide of his tongue drove you into a frenzy. You barely registered your hands grabbing his hair, using him to grind yourself against his tongue. You were not going to last, you could feel yourself careening over the edge. The wave of it quickly racing up to crash over you. When he slowly slid two thick fingers into your cunt and curled them just so, the wave crested. Your body seizing up with the force of your climax.

“You taste so good baby.” He kissed your mound, the dip in your hip; he slowly made his way up the soft skin of your belly, pausing to give each nipple a quick lick before he settled between your legs. You felt the heavy weight of him sliding through your folds, the blunt tip of him nudging at your clit making you wince with overstimulation before he gradually fed himself into you.

He wrapped your legs high on his waist and rocked into you at a steady pace, you could see from his ragged breathing he was trying not to jack hammer into your wet heat, he was trying to make himself last.

The stretch of him was delicious, you felt full and his cock was hitting something that made you fall silent; made your eyes clench shut against his neck. You could tell he was getting close when he crushed you underneath him, resting almost all of his weight on top of you while he snapped his hips forward harder and harder. The sound of your joining a wet slap as he moaned in your ear - whispering about how good your pussy felt, how tight and wet it was, how he was going to cum- but not before he felt you cum first. He reached between you to rub little circles onto your clit, begging you to cum around him.

You obeyed, and he didn’t hold out much longer.

------------

Tagging a few people I think might enjoy:

@foli-vora @ezrasbirdie @quica-quica-quica @beskarboobs @wheresarizona @absurdthirst

#suburban murder daddy #dave york ask #dave york x reader fic #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york x wife reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[puckinghell]

Not A Typical Christmas Story | Elias Pettersson

Summary: You’ve never loved Christmas, and there’s nothing that can change that; especially not your best friend’s grumpy Swedish friend who you don’t even like. However, when you’ve gotta be forced into the Christmas spirit to write a Christmas story for class, there’s only one person who is willing to try and help you. Words: 14k (I’m SO sorry) Note: Here it is, a Christmas story in November. Honestly I’m nervous to post this, I’ve never put so much of myself into a story, but here we go. I loved loved loved writing this and I hope you guys like reading it. Also, the cliche scenarios were stolen from a random blog post. 

--

“You’re such a fucking Grinch.” Brock takes a sip from his hot chocolate. There’s murmur in the bar around you, and he’s muttering, but you still hear him clear enough.

“Hey,” you protest, lightly hitting him on the arm. “I’m not a Grinch. Just because you put up your Christmas decorations in October and have been singing All I Want For Christmas Is You since July, doesn’t make me the Grinch for not doing that.”

Brock raises an eyebrow. “You literally just said you hate Christmas.”

“I did not.” You stubbornly cross your arms. “I said I hate Christmas stories.”

“That’s basically all there is to Christmas,” Brock brings in, and that’s probably fair enough.

Apart from the food, presents, family time, decorations…

Fine. Maybe you don’t like any of those either. But not liking Christmas is not the same as being a Grinch: you’re completely fine with letting everyone enjoy their festive December, as long as they leave you out of it.

Which is exactly why you’ve been complaining to Brock. And as your best friend, it’s literally his duty to listen to you; unfortunately it also means he’s gonna make fun of you. Just a little bit.

“I just don’t get why I have to write a Christmas story,” you mope, a little pathetically. “There’s so many Christmas stories in the world already, Boes. And they’re all the same! The foreign sports car breaks down in a blizzard and the city slicker gets stuck in a bar with a bucktoothed chicken strangler with an IQ of 7 whom he decides, through love or delirium, he cannot live without. Or the sadistic Christmas-hating miser of the pathetic backwoods town, who makes his money grinding the faces of the poor, is inspired to a change of heart by a teary-eyed child who bears a striking resemblance to his dead daughter, and donates all his money so that the ghost town can continue its wretched, grimy, poverty wracked existence.”

At that, there’s a muffled snicker from the side of the table. You’d almost forgotten that Elias was there, to be honest.

You raise your eyebrow at him. “What? You’ve got a better Christmas story?”

Elias raises an eyebrow back, but doesn’t answer. He usually doesn’t. Brock says he’s talkative enough when you’re not around, although you for the life of you do not know what you’ve done to earn his judgment.

“Don’t bite Petey’s head off,” Brock chides. He’s always trying to keep the peace between you two, and sometimes you feel bad that he has to police his two best friends.

Today is not one of those days.

“He’s laughing at me!”

“Because you’re being ridiculous.” Brock sighs. “It’s just a Christmas story, Y/N. You’ll write it, you get a grade for it, it’s done. How hard can it be?”

It’s clear that Brock has no idea how hard it can be to write a decent story. Sometimes, you wonder if he can even really write or read: maybe he’s just memorized a bunch of words and called it a day.

You let out a grumble and drop your head on the dingy, sticky table in the rundown bar that Brock and Elias are so keen to go to, probably because they never get recognized there. Not surprising, considering the fact that the age of the average customer is above 85.

Normally, you like your creative writing course. People told you to get electives you thought were actually fun, as your normal college courses are taxing enough, and you’ve always been a writer.

Or, well, been a writer… You write. You wouldn’t call yourself a writer: you’ve never published anything and you can’t be a writer before you make money from it. But you like writing. There’s at least a hundred half finished Word documents sitting on your laptop at any given moment.

But this project isn’t fun at all. All the students in your course were excited to get to write a Christmas story. It is December, after all, and most people have gotten properly into the Christmas spirit by now. However, you’ve never liked Christmas – for reasons that you will not think about with Elias’ judgy eyes on you – and you usually write scary stories, so this is not up your alley.

“Hey,” Brock’s voice sounds, and it’s gentle now. He’s probably noticed you’re actually having a mental breakdown over this. “It’s just one stupid story, and it doesn’t even have to be good. Just write about like, animals that can talk.”

Elias snorts again, and this time you can’t even blame him.

You lift your head only to shoot Brock a glare. Brock raises his hands in helpless manner, rolling his eyes as he goes.

“I’m trying to help.”

“I’m going to get beers,” Elias says suddenly. It’s the first thing he’s said all hour, you think, and the sound of his voice almost startles you. “I think you’re more helpful when you’ve got a beer, Boes.”

He’s not wrong, but you won’t tell him that. Instead, you stare at his retreating back, disappearing towards the bar.

“Why do you hate him?” Brock says, and he sounds a little accusing.

“I don’t hate Elias, just as much as I don’t hate Christmas,” you tell him, before you realize that that technically doesn’t speak of your innocence, so you try a different tactic. “He doesn’t like me either! He never talks when I’m around.”

“Cause you make him nervous!” Brock exclaims. He pushes his now empty mug towards the side. “You’re always making snappy remarks at him.” He stares at you with big blue puppy eyes, his bottom lip pouting out. “I wish you would just get along. I love you both and it’s very annoying to have to always be in the middle of you.”

In reality, it’s not like Brock really has to be in the middle of anything. If it was up to you, you would simply not ever see Elias, and you’re pretty sure that’s the only thing you and Elias would ever agree on. But Brock somehow always brings you together: like how today he’d forgotten to mention his teammate’s presence when he asked you to come out for a drink.

But you don’t blame Brock, not really. You think there’s another universe in which Elias and you could be friends. You’re very similar, in a way: you’re both not from Vancouver, both don’t have your family around, and you share a similar sharp sarcastic humor and a love for teasing Brock.

The first time you met Elias, you were hopeful. Brock was, at that point, your only friend in Vancouver, and the two of you had become best friends like you’d grown up in each other’s pockets. If Brock liked this guy so much, you figured you’d like him too.

But Elias hadn’t seemed to feel the same way. You met at one of Jake’s parties and Brock had introduced you with the statement that you were going to be beerpong buddies, because he’d already promised Troy.

Elias’ eyes had been a little too intense, as they traveled across your face. You could feel them burn into your skin like lasers, and when his eyes finally met yours it had felt like being hit by the entire universe at once.

“Oh,” he’d said, and it had been filled with… not even disdain. You could’ve handled disdain, because you could’ve called him out on that. But this had been indifference, that you’d heard in his voice, and that was something you didn’t know what to do with.

He’d not said anything else all evening. 

Ever since then, you’d put stone after stone into the wall you build between you and the quiet Swede, every single time he so much looked in your general direction. Nothing big ever happened between you: you hadn’t had any huge fights or massive blow outs.

It was just indifference, that ate at you until it became reluctance and then annoyance, and it’s that same thing you can read on Elias’ face now when he quietly sits in a corner, listening in on your conversations with Brock.

Yes, it would be easier for Brock if you and Elias could become friends, or at least friendly enough.

“Sorry, Boes,” you tell him with a sigh. “I just don’t think it’s ever gonna happen.”

--

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a shirt?”

You raise your eyebrow at Jake, who opened the door wearing black jeans, a Santa hat, and literally nothing else.

"I lost a bet,” he says solemnly, opening his front door further. You stomp the snow off your boots on his porch, then move past him into the house.

It’s freezing cold outside and Jake’s house is lovely and warm, which makes you happy to be there if only to enjoy the heating. It’s not like you don’t have heating at your flat, but the electricity bill is high enough every month without you turning the thermostat up as high as it goes, so usually you try to keep warm with sweaters and blankets.

Brock told you to dress pretty though, so you wore a dress to Jake’s party. Which means it’s a good thing he’s got the heating going.

“You look lovely,” Jake smiles, taking your coat from your hands. Having him act like such a perfect gentleman in the outfit he’s wearing makes you laugh, and he shoos you inside when he notices.

You like Jake. In fact, you like all of Brock’s friends – except the one, of course – and that’s the only reason you said yes to coming to this party. It’s not like you’re against parties, but it’s a Christmas party: and despite the fact that it’s the first week of December, you’ve already heard enough Christmas music to last a life time.

“There she is!” Brock hoots, when he spots you. He opens his arms and you give him a quick hug, saying hi to Bo and Holly, who he’s standing with. “I have a brilliant idea,” Brock says however, before you can even ask the Horvats how they’re doing. “And you can’t say no right away.”

That definitely means you’re gonna wanna say no right away.

“I’m not promising that,” you hum. Just at that moment, Jake appears with a glass of prosecco that he hands you, and you send him a grateful smile. He disappears just as quickly, which is probably the better option considering what Brock’s about to say.

“I think you should make an actual, real effort to get into the Christmas spirit this year.”

“I don’t think so,” you immediately answer, but Brock waves away your protests with a wave of his hand.

“That’s not the part you’re gonna wanna say no to.”

“Oh dear,” Holly laughs, and you glare at Brock.

“What, then?”

“I think you and Petey should get in the Christmas spirit together.”

The sentence is bizar enough that you burst out laughing. Surely he’s kidding.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, then, turning to Bo: “Is he drunk?”

Bo shrugs. “Not yet, I don’t think. Tipsy at most.”

“Think about it,” Brock says. There’s a glint of excitement in his eyes, which promises nothing good for you. “You’re staying in Vancouver this Christmas, right?”

You don’t say anything: the answer is yes, and Brock knows that, because he’s been trying to convince you to come back to Minnesota with him for a month. However, as you’ve told him every time, there’s no way his girlfriend would appreciate that, and you don’t like being a third wheel. Or - but you haven’t told him that - a charity case.

“And so is Petey!” Brock proclaims. He motions somewhere to the left, where the Swede is probably hiding between all his teammates, trying to stay as far away from you as possible. “So both of you have to stay here in Vancouver, alone, during Christmas. And he loves Christmas, and you don’t, but you have to write that Christmas story and it would be so much easier to do that if you actually celebrated Christmas, so he can teach you how.”

Your best friend isn’t making a lot of sense, and there’s too much information to process so quickly. First of all, you didn’t know Elias would be alone for Christmas, although you suppose it makes sense that he can’t go back to Sweden just for 2 days of Christmas. Secondly, you don’t need someone to teach you how to celebrate Christmas: it’s not like you don’t know, and much more that you choose not to.

And third: fuck. You’d basically forgotten about that Christmas story.

“It’s a brilliant idea,” Brock says proudly and a little smug. “And I haven’t told Petey yet but I know he’ll be down.”

This time, you respond: you start laughing hard enough that Brock’s smile slips off his face.

“I really don’t think he will,” you giggle. You reach out, patting Brock’s arm with a smile. “Boes, you’re a sweetheart, but stop worrying about me. My life isn’t bad because I don’t like Christmas.”

It’s bad for some other reasons, like financial debt and family misfortunes, but not because of a lack of reindeer ornaments and bad mulled wine.

Brock pouts. “But…”

“No,” you cut him off. “I can write that Christmas story just fine on my own, thank you. And if you’re worried about Elias, you can ask him to Minnesota.” You take a step back, glancing at your empty prosecco glass. “I’m gonna get another one of these.”

As you’re making your way to the kitchen, you can still hear Brock’s sputtering.

Although Jake’s house is filled with people, the kitchen still seems quiet. It’s not until you’ve let the door fall closed behind you though, that you notice movement in the corner.

“Oh,” you say, a little annoyed to be caught off guard. “It’s you.”

Elias barely glances in your direction. “Just getting some water.”

Elias’ style is always a little funky, and if you didn’t dislike him so much you would’ve appreciated how daring it is. This time, though, you literally can not help but laugh at him.

“Nice sweater,” you say, and it doesn’t even come out as sarcastic.

Elias looks down at his sweater like he didn’t even notice he was wearing it. It has a reindeer stitched on, except the reindeer looks… Well. Baked.

“Quinn got it for me,” Elias says, and he sounds a little sheepish, which is not a tone you hear from him often. “He’s got the same one.”

“A little co-dependent,” you tease, and it comes out too light and easy for it to be directed at Elias. He looks a little surprised, too, at how jovial it sounds.

“You look nice,” he says, then. He’s looking at you now, and you can feel the weight of his eyes press against your skin.

There’s something about Elias’ gaze that makes it feel like your lungs are constricting, and you don’t know what it is. You could blame it on the fact that his eyes are the kind of piercing blue that authors would compare to the ocean or maybe the summer sky, but Brock has blue eyes too, and you never feel like that when he looks at you.

“Uhm, thanks,” you bring out. The awkwardness settles over the kitchen like a heavy cloud of fog, but for some reason your first instinct isn’t to just run out of the kitchen, like you usually would.

This is definitely Brock’s fault, for making you feel bad about Elias being alone in his sauve but empty apartment in Vancouver on Christmas, when he apparently loves the holiday so much.

“Brock thinks you could teach me how to love Christmas,” you blurt out, and Elias looks nothing short of utterly baffled by your statement. You sigh, and explain. “We’re both in Vancouver around Christmas and apparently you love Christmas and I don’t, so he thinks you should teach me how to love it. He thinks it would help me write my story.”

Elias seems to ponder that for a second. When he speaks, his voice is tentative. “Do you think it would help?”

Your first instinct is to, once again, call out no and laugh it off, but for some reason you don’t. Elias sips his water like he’s prepared to wait for your answer, and you give yourself some time to think.

Realistically, getting into the Christmas spirit, or at least getting an idea of what other people feel when they’re in the Christmas spirit, could really help you pull off this story. You’re good at putting yourself in other people’s shoes, which is how you manage to write characters you don’t necessarily see yourself in.

When you wrote a story about a doctor, you talked to your friend who’s in med school about it for a week. Now, you wanna write a Christmas story. It wouldn’t be an awful idea to be around someone who loves Christmas.

“Maybe,” you admit. “But you don’t have to do it, I know you’re probably busy…”

Elias shakes his head before you’ve finished your sentence.

“When hockey goes on break, and all my teammates go home for the holidays, I won’t have anything to do.” He shrugs: it looks careless but in the most forced manner, like he’s trying to hide just how much it does matter. “We could do something, I guess.”

I guess. It’s not really the most enthusiastic response you’ve ever had, but then, this is not normal for you and Elias.

“You know what the ultimate Christmas plot is?” Elias says then, a little hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “A Christmas party is in fear of flopping thanks to a lack of Christmas spirit, but is rescued by some energetic soccer mom with no life.” He grins. “I could be the soccer mom.”

To your own surprise, you burst out laughing at his description. You didn’t think he was really paying attention when you were describing cliché Christmas plots in the bar with Brock, but maybe Elias pays attention to more than he admits.

“Fine,” you hear yourself say, and you honest to God have no idea where that came from but you know Brock is gonna shit himself with excitement when he hears. “When hockey goes on break, you can be the energetic soccer mom and try to bring me into the Christmas spirit.” You smile. “It won’t be an easy task, Pettersson.”

Elias raises an eyebrow but there’s nothing judgmental about it, this time.

If anything, it’s a challenge.

He sticks something out to you: it’s your glass, now filled again with prosecco, which he somehow managed to fill up without you even noticing.

“It’s on,” he says simply, and when he raises his water glass in the air, you don’t even hesitate to clink it.

--

“Shopping is not a Christmas outing,” you say, stubbornly crossing your arms. “And I really don’t think this is gonna get me into the Christmas spirit.”

“What do you mean?” Elias deadpans, as he yanks a shopping cart free from all the others. “Middle aged housewives fighting over discounted wreaths? There’s nothing more Christmassy than that.”

You snort. “Right. It’s just gonna be spoiled crying kids who want toys that they already have and parents pretending it’s Santa who spoils them so they don’t have to take responsibility for their kids being rude drama queens.”

Elias laughs. He pushes the cart into the department store, and you reluctantly follow him.

“That’s another storyline,” he says.

“The unexplained dilemma of parents who do not believe in Santa, and yet we, the wise audience who knows better, are left to wonder where they think these toys came from? ‘Psst, honey, Santa’s not real, so from whence came these marvels?’”

“I don’t know half of what you’re saying.” Elias holds up a string of Christmas lights. “But we’re getting these, honey.”

It comes out sweet like caramel and too serious to be anything but sarcastic, so you push the cart into his heels. Elias simply laughs and continues on his way.

The department store is busy, which is exactly why you usually try to avoid going there in December. You’d think Elias, being Elias Pettersson, would also try to avoid crowds, but it’s like people don’t see anything but Rudolph; nobody recognizes him as he skillfully pushes his way through the crowds, putting stuff into the cart that you barely know what to do with.

You’re thankful for it. It would be awkward if people did recognize him, and it’s strange to notice that that would be the thing to do it; there’s no awkwardness now, with him making snarky remarks at the quality of the ornaments or the fact that Canadians apparently love what he calls the ‘tacky’ side of Christmas.

In fact, you almost find that you’re enjoying yourself. It might as well be a Christmas miracle after all.

“When was the last time you had a tree?” Elias asks.

Your brain short circuits for a full five seconds, and then when you answer Elias stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“Uh, probably when I still lived with my parents and they got it?”

“We’re changing that right now.” He spins on his heels and speed walks in the direction of the trees, too fast for you to protest.

You think of the last time you got a Christmas tree and an involuntary shiver makes its way down your spine. There’s a good reason you don’t like Christmas, and the tree plays a crucial part in it.

But Elias doesn’t know that. So you can’t even blame him for looking excited when he somehow manages to find you the perfect size tree for your apartment – even without ever having been in your apartment.

“This one,” he says smugly, but when he notices your expression, his face falls. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow. You could tell him, now, tell him about the last time your dad went to get a tree and never came back.

But that’s a long time ago and there’s no reason for Elias to know that. He’s not your friend, and he’d probably not even care. If anything, he’d feel sorry for you, and that would be even worse.

“That one is fine,” you tell him, and you promise yourself you just won’t put it up.

The tree gets your mood down but Elias doesn’t seem to notice. He collects some more stuff, like a throw blanket with Christmas pattern that you actually don’t mind, because you’re always cold and a person can never have too many throw blankets.

He also puts in an ornament with the Canucks logo, which you want to use to slap the smirk off his face, and a Rudolph pluche toy with a red light up nose.

“Like you, when it’s cold,” he teases, flicking your nose, and you wonder if you could use the Christmas lights to strangle him.

Finally, when you approach the end of your trip, you realize a teeny tiny problem.

“Uhm, Elias?” you ask, “I think we may have gotten too much.”

Elias rolls his eyes. “Brock said you don’t have any decorations, so this is the perfect amount.”

And it would be – if you wanted Christmas decorations – except…

“I can’t afford this,” you snap, and you can feel your cheeks heat up, and maybe the tips of your ears as well. God, this is embarrassing.

Elias’ face softens, and that kinda just makes it worse.

“You’re not paying for it,” he says, not unkindly. “This wasn’t your idea.”

“It wasn’t yours either,” you remind him. Granted, a bill like this would hardly break the bank for Elias, but you’re not about to let him pay for you just because he feels bad. You let Brock buy you dinner sometimes but that’s it, and only because he actually likes your company and because he always wants to eat at stupid fancy restaurants.

This is Elias. He doesn’t value your company, and he’s not your friend, and you won’t let him pay for you.

Elias doesn’t say anything, eyes searching your face for something. You’re not quite sure what he finds, but finally, he speaks.

“Consider it my Christmas gift to you,” he says. “You can pay me back by making me lunch, cause I’m hungry.”

And strangely enough, the thought of spending another two hours with Elias doesn’t make you wanna hurl, or throw yourself in front of oncoming traffic. In fact, you’re surprised to note that you actually had fun on this trip, and it was mostly thanks to Elias’ dry commentary on the other shoppers, of which not one sentence failed to make you laugh.

You don’t believe in Christmas stories, like the one where some weird technical glitch in the matrix gets fixed just in time for the Christmas tree in the center of town to light up, just as the guy and girl figure out their complicated emotional differences.

But maybe you can allow yourself to not actively dislike Elias’ company, at least while you’re stuck with it.

--

There’s exhaustion settled deep inside your bones, like your feet are made of concrete as you somehow manage to drag yourself up the stairs. You don’t usually mind living in a bit of a shit hole building, considering the fact that it’s very cheap – but on nights like these you wish there was an elevator you could take.

Working out in the morning before taking a double shift at the coffee shop you work at was a bad idea.

It takes you a few seconds to find your keys in your bag. It’s late enough at night that you can’t really see much; there’s lights in the hallways but most of them don’t really work, the flickering glow of them barely enough to illuminate the ceilings.

When you open the door, you instantly notice there’s something wrong.

Or, wrong… That might not be the right word. The word that comes to mind, actually, is fuck.

You’d forgotten all about Elias.

After buying all the Christmas decorations, he kept bothering you about putting them up. You hadn’t really been planning to, and unfortunately Elias knew you well enough to somehow know that.

Nobody reads you as well as he does, like his blue eyes pierce right through your skin and stare straight into your heart. It’s one of the things you find most unsettling about him. Keeping things close to your heart has always been your way to cope, but it felt impossible to do that with Elias around.

He’d kept asking you if you were gonna put up the decorations and you kept waving him away, until he finally decided he had enough.

“I’m coming over tomorrow,” he’d said – or, threatened. “Brock gave me your spare key, so you don’t have a say in this. I’m putting up the tree.”

“Don’t you dare,” you’d answered, making a mental note to deal with Brock’s traitorous ass later. “I can put up my own tree.”

You could, you just weren’t planning to do it.

“You could, but you won’t,” Elias had said, unimpressed. “So be there or don’t be there, I’m doing it.”

You had totally meant to be there. You weren’t as much of an asshole that you would let him do all the work after he also paid for it, and he was technically doing you a favor. But then your colleague asked you to cover her shift, and, well…

You forgot. And clearly, Elias hadn’t.

In the corner of your tiny little living room is a pine tree. There’s no ornaments in it except for the Canucks one that Elias bought you, but there’s what seems to be about a thousand lights in it, and it must’ve taken him hours to put those in.

It’s not even just that. The Rudolph toy is sitting on your bookcase, there’s candles on your dining table and on the couch is the Christmas throw blanket.

Under the blanket is Elias.

His head is resting on the arm of the couch, blond hair a little messy. His eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones, and he looks strangely peaceful.

You feel something settle in your stomach.

You imagine him sitting on your couch, waiting for you to come home because he wanted to see your reaction. You can imagine his little smug grin as he took in his work, way too proud with a simple string of lights in a Christmas tree. And maybe, maybe, he even thought about you celebrating Christmas here with the place looking exactly like this, and maybe that made him smile.

And then you didn’t show up. 

You wonder if you should wake him, to kick him out of your apartment, tease him for waiting for you, or even to say thank you. But his chest is rising slowly with every steady breath, and you’ve never seen Elias look so tranquil, so at peace.

For some reason, waking him feels like a crime.

So you step closer and tug the blanket a little more over his shoulders. You tell yourself it’s because the place gets so stupidly cold at night, and you can’t have him get sick and have a miserable Christmas because Brock would kill you, but you know it’s not about that at all.

It’s about the fact that coming home to a cozy, decorated apartment after the exhausting day you’ve had was actually pretty nice. And it’s about the fact that for some reason, Elias’ sleeping figure on your couch makes the place feel more like home than it has ever before.

And maybe it’s because the night is dark, and Elias can’t hear or see you, but when you whisper: “Goodnight” into the quiet living room, it sounds a lot like thank you.

--

When you wake up, there’s the smell of pancakes in the air. It’s a smell you would recognize anywhere, and it startles you awake too quickly for it being so early in the morning. You nearly jump out of bed and follow your nose towards the kitchen.

If anyone would’ve asked, you would’ve bet money on it that Elias would’ve woken up on your couch annoyed as hell, and booked it out of there as soon as his legs could carry him. But somehow, like a mirage, he’s standing at your stove, making pancakes.

Are you dreaming?

“Am I dreaming?” you ask out loud, and Elias swirls around on his heels.

“Don’t scare me,” he snaps, annoyed, but the annoyance flows away within seconds. “I was hungry.”

“So you made pancakes?”

Elias laughs softly. “I can’t make much else with what’s in your kitchen. You need to go grocery shopping.”

You really do, but you can’t think about that right now. Not when Elias is standing in your kitchen like he owns the place, like it’s normal for him to be there.

It very much is not. So why doesn’t it feel wrong?

“Uhm.” If he’s here, you figure you should at least be polite. “Do you want coffee?”

He waves towards your coffee machine. “I already put it on.”

You stay quiet as you make the coffee, a little too aware of the way Elias moves pancake after pancake from the pan to the stack, movements relaxed and almost lazy. It’s Sunday morning and it’s not that late, but it feels like it could be one of those mornings that stretches out endlessly, dark grey clouds outside your apartment as Vancouver slowly wakes up.

Neither of you speak until you’ve sat down at the table, pancakes and coffee in front of you. It’s awfully domestic and you don’t know what to do with it: it’s become easy to snap or snark at Elias when Brock’s there as a middle man and Elias looks like he’d rather cut off both his legs than spend another minute in your presence, but it’s not like that now.

Now, Elias seems quietly content to sit in your kitchen eating pancakes that he made on your stove while you were asleep. Now, Elias seems completely comfortable scrolling through his phone while you stare at him. And this Elias, you have no idea what to do with.

“We’re gonna do something Christmassy today,” Elias says, between two bites of pancake. “I’m just trying to figure out what.”

You raise an eyebrow. It’s been only a week since Brock had the awful idea to make Elias teach you how to be in the Christmas spirit before booking it to Minnesota, and so far Elias has seemingly put way too much time and effort into it, while you haven’t even put one word in your empty word document, that you ironically titled ‘Not a typical Christmas story’.

Then you remember the night at Jake’s party, and how Elias said he wouldn’t have much to do once all the guys went home to their families.

Suddenly, you feel for him. You know what it’s like to be lonely.

“The Christmas market isn’t on today,” Elias continues, oblivious to your mental dialogue. “But we’re going there soon. And we need to watch a bunch of Christmas movies.”

You hesitate. Are you really going to do this?

“I might have an idea for today.”

Apparently you are.

Elias’ eyes finally focus on you, expression curious. He doesn’t say anything but he’s clearly waiting for you to continue, so you take a deep breath and go for it.

“I’ve never gone skating.”

An hour later you’re at the local outdoor ice rink, and it’s not until you see the crowd that you realize this might’ve not been your smartest idea. It’s Sunday, it’s December, it’s not awfully cold: you think at least 1/3rd of Vancouver is at this rink.

“Uhm, I might not have thought this through,” you state a little bashfully. You can already see a few Canucks jerseys on the ice, and although you can’t see the back that well you wouldn’t be surprised if a bunch of them carried the number 40.

Elias shrugs. He seems unbothered, but then he mostly does. You can never really read him, and it’s one of the things you find most unnerving about him.

“It’ll be fine,” he says. “I’m wearing my glasses.”

He is wearing his glasses, which he rarely does. You’re not even sure he needs them or if they’re just a fashion statement. He’s also wearing a hat, so maybe he’s thought this through more than you.

But surely just glasses and a snapback won’t stop Vancouver from recognizing the Canucks biggest star?

Apparently, it does.

Elias goes to rent the skates, because he couldn’t be bothered to go back to his apartment to get his own. He’s put them on within 20 seconds, while you’re still struggling to wiggle your foot into the first one.

He laughs and you shoot him a deathly glare.

“Don’t laugh at me! We can’t all be professional hockey players.”

“I don’t think you need to be a professional anything to lace up a skate,” Elias answers dryly. He turns to face you, then pats his leg. “Give me your foot.” 

It’s embarrassing to make Elias tie your skates, but it would be more embarrassing to ignore him and then spend 20 minutes struggling with them. So you swing your foot into his lap. 

Long fingers work swiftly around your laces, and suddenly your skate is tied, fitted closely around your ankle. Elias pats your shin, then holds out his hand for the other foot. 

You swing your second leg into his lap. 

“I don’t know how you do this so fast,” you mutter. You can feel the flush on your cheeks and you hope Elias assumes it’s because of the cold.

“I’ve got many talents,” Elias deadpans, and you can’t stop yourself from laughing. 

“Juggling, unicycle riding, and lacing skates?” 

Elias nods. There’s a smile tugging at his lips. “All very important skills.” 

Finally, you put your skates back on the floor and waggle towards the door to. the rink. Elias has jumped onto the ice before you can even think about moving. 

You stop. Is this really a good idea? You could break both your legs here.

“Don’t be scared,” Elias says, correcting guessing the root of your hesitation. He’s gliding on his skates with ease, shuffling back and forth the way hockey players always do during the anthems.

Because he’s waiting. For you. Because you’re going skating together.

This is the weirdest fucking thing that’s ever happened to you, kinda like a fever dream; and that’s enough motivation to step onto the ice.

You stumble a bit, and Elias reaches out to grab your elbow to steady you.

“Careful, it’s slippery.”

“Unsurprisingly,” you mumble beneath your breath, and Elias’ grin goes a little wicked before he promptly lets go off your elbow and slides back.

Bastard. But the ice is slippery and you’re not steady on your skates, so you scramble forward only just enough to reach Elias again, wrapping your hands tightly around his arm.

“Do not let go,” you hiss.

“Do not be a smartass,” he shoots back, but thankfully he doesn’t move away again. Instead, he carefully takes both your hands away from his arm and takes them into his own, turning so he’s skating backwards and pulling you along.

If you don’t have to move your own feet, moving is a lot more fun, and you feel yourself loosening up. Every now and then you stumble, but Elias’ grip on you is firm and he never wavers, even when you yank on his hands to pull yourself upright again.

You’ve always noticed how graceful Elias is on the ice. There’s something about him when he skates that has always caught your attention, even if you would never admit that to him. But without the hockey gear, it’s even more clear how elegant he moves.

You, not so much.

“You better not be laughing at me,” you grumble, a little annoyed that you have to cling onto Elias as a lifeline in order not to break your neck. 

Elias raises an eyebrow. “I never do that.”

It should sound sarcastic but it really doesn’t, and you wonder if he’s momentarily forgotten every single interaction you’ve had with him over the past year.

Your expression must speak volumes because he rolls his eyes. He swiftly moves, so he’s skating next to you instead of in front.

He’s still holding your hand.

“I never laugh at you,” he clarifies. “I laugh because you’re funny. It’s different.”

And, oh. That does something to your stomach, something that you probably shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

Elias doesn’t seem to want to dwell on it either, because suddenly he pulls his hand away, skating a bit to the front to where you can’t reach him.

“You can do it on your own,” he calls over his shoulder, a cheeky smile playing around his lips.

And it turns out you can: you don’t fall, you keep moving – albeit a lot slower than Elias – and it’s actually kinda fun.

You can do it on your own, but. It was more fun with Elias next to you, anyway.

--

When Elias texts you to tell you you’re going to the Christmas market that night, you haven’t seen him in three days.

But you’ve been texting. He’s been sending you stupid Christmas songs that you mostly don’t listen to, and Christmas movies you’d prefer to never see. You send him ideas for cliché Christmas stories that you can almost hear his disapproving snort for. 

Santa becomes a prima donna and holds Christmas hostage until his ego is stroked in the form of songs written in his honor by reindeer who are willing to give their very lives for the cause.

Elias’ answer comes swift.

No. That has definitely been done before and also, someone could call animal services.

When Brock asks you how you’re liking your time with Elias, when you FaceTime him during dinner, you fall into silence.

What are you gonna tell him? That you smile every time you see his name pop up on your phone? That you have no idea anymore why you didn’t like him all that time? That you now understand what he meant when he used to say “Petey just needs a little time”?

“It’s going,” you hum noncommittally, chopping another carrot.

Brock laughs. “You’re so full of bullshit. I can literally see you trying to hide a smile. You realized I’m right, didn’t you?”

“You need to shut up,” you tell him without any heat. “We’re civil. He’s bored, I’m in the middle of writer’s block crisis. We’re not getting married, Boes, it’s just better than doing nothing the whole week you’ve deserted me.”

“Sure,” Brock drawls, and it doesn’t sound like he believes you at all.

“How’s the pups?” you ask, and Brock laughs because that wasn’t even slightly subtle for a topic change. He clearly decides to let you, however, starts talking about Milo’s new habit of burying people’s gloves in the yard.

The thing is, you don’t really wanna talk about Elias with Brock when you don’t even know yourself what you think of him yet. Fine, you don’t hate him, that’s clear. You’ve realized his air of indifference is just a shield, a wall that crumples as soon as he laughs. His teasing remarks are familiar now, feel friendly the way they feel when they come from Brock, and you’ve realized he’s one of the funniest, smartest, and kindest people you know.

But Brock would just push it into something it’s not. When he comes back, you’ll probably go back to being ‘Brock’s friend’ instead Elias’, and you wouldn’t be surprised if everything goes back to the way things were. Maybe with less animosity, but when Elias has a bunch of different people to choose from, why would he choose to hang out with you?

But for now, he doesn’t have any other people to hang out with and he does choose to hang out with you, and you’re hit once again with how weird that is when you step into his car the next evening.

“Dude, it’s way too cold to be going outside,” you grumble, shutting the door of his car behind you. Inside the car it’s warm and cozy, and Elias has an amused expression on his face when he turns to you.

“Good evening,” he deadpans, “I’m good, thank you, how are you?”

“Right.” You can feel your cheeks flush and hope he thinks it’s because of the heat in the car. “Sorry.”

Elias laughs. “It’s not that cold,” he chides, pulling the car into the road. “You just didn’t dress properly.”

You look down at yourself. You thought you’d dressed quite warm, but there’s an icy chill in the air that promises a chance of snow, so maybe it’s not warm enough. You didn’t even take gloves, you realize now, or a hat.

Well.

Elias is grinning while he stares ahead at the road, and you kinda wanna smack him except for how it also makes you smile. He’s dressed a lot warmer than you, and with the scarf almost up to his chin and a beanie on his head there’s not much risk of him being recognized anywhere.

“I brought extra gloves,” Elias says, then. “You’re not gonna be able to enjoy it if your hands are cold.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Elias, not to be a downer, but we’re going to a busy market that revolves entirely around Christmas, and I don’t like Christmas or crowds. I don’t think I’m gonna enjoy myself either way.”

“We’ll see,” Elias says simply, and it sounds like a promise.

It’s easy to keep up the conversation on the way there, light teasing from you and genuine interest from him. It’s comfortable, both the warmth in the car and Elias’ laugh next to you, and when he parks the car you almost don’t wanna get out.

At least he does have gloves for you, and he gives you a scarf, so you’re not that cold when you step out into the night air.

The Christmas market is busy, hoards of happy people looking for some Christmas cheer. You stick close to Elias’ side: if you lose him in this crowd, you’ll never find him back.

At least it’s pretty. The sky is already dark but the Christmas market has been lit up with seemingly millions of lights in every color imaginable.

“I don’t think purple is very Christmassy,” you say, flicking a purple light hanging off the stall that Elias is browsing.

“I prefer the white ones,” he answers, eyes kept firmly on the handmade ornaments in the stall. “They look like stars.” He turns, holding out an ornament. It’s a glass star, and it reflects the lights like a kaleidoscope.

It’s, objectively, beautiful. You don’t have to like Christmas to love it, but when you reach out for it, Elias laughs and pulls it out of your reach.

“I thought we decided you’re not to be trusted with glass.”

He’s referencing a time long ago, when you were hanging out with Brock and he happened to be there, and you dropped a glass and Brock had made a whole spectacle of it.

To be fair, you hadn’t really put Elias in the memory you keep of that day, because he was simply there: as Brock’s friend, as someone who happens to linger in the background. He’s lingering in the background of many memories, you realize now, but you’re starting to realize you prefer the ones where he’s front and center.

You walk past more stalls, filled with either tacky Christmas stuff – you buy Brock some socks with Santa on them because you can’t not – or handmade things, which you actually like looking at. Elias buys some things for his parents – “I’ll send them to Sweden,” he says, and he looks a little too sad so you start chatting about how Rouss kinda resembles a reindeer, somehow.

You’re walking past the food stalls when Elias asks: “How’s the writing going?”

You freeze. That’s not a question you were ready for, and it leads to the inevitable urge to blurt out the truth. “I haven’t started. I just don’t think I can.”

Elias’ eyes on you are thoughtful, like he’s searching for something in your soul. If he tries hard enough, you think he’ll look right through you: nobody has ever made you feel so open, so visible, as he does.

“Brock didn’t tell you why I don’t like Christmas, did he?”

“No,” Elias admits, “but I figured it was a better reason than red is not your color.”

“Hey!” you protest, stepping to the side so you can bump your shoulder against his. “Red is totally my color!”

It’s not, but Elias doesn’t push it. Instead, he smiles warmly, and suddenly you want to tell him.

“When I was young, my parents used to fight a lot. One day, two weeks before Christmas, they got into a massive fight. I listened to them from my bedroom and then my dad came upstairs and told me he was going to find me the perfect Christmas tree. He got in his car and went to get the tree, or so I thought. I never saw him again.”

You sigh. “It’s not, like… I’m over it, mostly. I just can’t help but feel that same feeling every year around Christmas. It’s like hoping for something you know will never happen. Like you’re reading a book and the happy ending never comes. ”

“That’s why it’s hard to write the story,” Elias hazards a guess. He looks curious, but he doesn’t look like he feels bad for you, which is what you would’ve disliked the most.

He points to one of the stalls, then. “They make the best hot chocolate in town. Want one?”

You nod, following him towards the stall as you continue talking. “It is. But I do also find Christmas stories boring to write. It’s always the same concept, just in a million different ways.”

Elias smiles. “That’s the fun of it, no? You know the happy ending always comes. It makes you feel good.”

“It’s boring,” you repeat, stubbornly. “The girl from the big city with a job paying upwards of 8 figures goes back to her hometown for Christmas and somehow falls for some high school fling who still lives in a basement, but makes a mean cup of hot chocolate and says thing like ‘What can I say? I was stupid.’” You cross your arms. “You can’t tell me if we took the Christmas element away you would voluntarily read that story.”

Elias laughs. “Some people would. Isn’t that basically the story from The Notebook?”

“Have you ever watched The Notebook, Elias?” you frown, and he shrugs.

“No, but Brock said it made him cry.”

Which isn’t surprising, because a lot of movies have made Brock cry. You wonder what Elias would do if you put on The Notebook on your upcoming Christmas movie night.

Elias turns around, then, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in his hands. He smirks when he hands it to you.

“What can I say? I was stupid,” he quotes, and you can’t help but giggle as you take the cup from him.

“You didn’t make this, you just paid for it. It doesn’t count that way.”

“After this we should probably go,” he says then, glancing at his watch.

The words sink into your stomach like a heavy stone of dread; you don’t really want to go home, and the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re happy, right now, and if ‘feeling Christmassy’ basically translates to feeling happy, well…

It’s not Christmas, though, that’s got you feeling this way. You could care less about the pine trees and the tacky music and the reindeer and the big man with the white beard and red hat.

You care more about the blonde man beside you, staring into the distance with the brightest blue eyes, and the way he somehow always makes you laugh.

Damn it. How much you hate it when Brock is right.

--

With Brock telling you how much Elias likes Christmas movies, and Elias having pushed you for this Christmas movie marathon for days on end, you were expecting a bit more excitement from him when it finally happens.

You can tell something is wrong from the moment you open the door. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets, and when he smiles at you it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, moving past you into your apartment.

“I hope you’re ready to rewatch the same exact movie with only minor differences all night,” you joke, but Elias doesn’t even look up as he methodically pulls off his coat, kicks off his shoes and pitter patters into your living room.

He scoffs when he sees your tree, still empty except for the Canucks ornament that he got you.

“Really?” he asks, and for the first time in a while you can’t tell if he’s joking or actually upset with you.

This is the Elias that you knew before, the one that you didn’t like because you could never reach him, guarding his heart like a fort. But this time, you know what it’s like to have the other Elias, and you already miss having that Elias in your life.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you bring out, and it comes out a bit shaky. Elias turns around and his face softens slightly.

“I didn’t mean that.” He sighs. “I nearly canceled this.”

Your heart sinks.

“I get grumpy when I’m not feeling good and I don’t want to take it out on you.” He sinks down onto your couch, kicks his feet up on the coffee table like he’s been there a million times before. “But I didn’t wanna cancel, so. I didn’t.” He sounds almost helpless, like he’s not sure if he should be saying what he’s saying.

But your traitorous heart lifts immediately. If he didn’t want to cancel, it means he wants to be here, and that’s really all you need to know.

“Well, I’m gonna make popcorn, then,” you say, keeping your voice light. “You pick the movie. I don’t care. They’re all the same anyway.”

Elias rolls his eyes, but it’s good natured. “They’re not the same!” he calls after you as you disappear into the kitchen.

“Every Christmas movie ever was written by someone who didn’t know what to write,” you tell him, knowing he can still hear you from the kitchen – the benefits of living in a tiny apartment. “Writer’s block? No problem. The solution: a little bit of Christmas magic. ‘We can’t pay the rent’, ‘I’m sick’, ‘My boss is making me work on Christmas’. Poof, with a jingle of bells, problems solved in the form of a generous benefactor, aspirin, or a hit man.”

“If that’s the case, why can’t you write a Christmas story?” Elias calls back teasing, and you give him the finger through the wall.

He might not see it, but you’re certain he can feel it.

You take the popcorn and walk back to the couch, letting yourself drop onto it next to Elias. You misjudge the distance a bit, causing you to sit a little too close to Elias for it to be strictly friendly; but Elias doesn’t budge, so you don’t move either.

You’re pressed against Elias shoulder to thigh, and you can feel his body shake when he laughs.

“I like this cliché,” he says, nodding towards the television. “Let’s see if you can guess it.”

You watch the movie in relative silence, eating popcorn and enjoying the warmth of Elias body against yours. You have to admit you lose focus every now and then: the movie isn’t that bad, but it’s hard to focus on anything with Elias so close. Every now and then, when something funny happens, he exhales a sharp breath of laughter, and sometimes he hums as if he’s agreeing with what’s happening on screen.

He smells nice, too, and finally you get tired enough that you get a little brave: you let your head drop against his shoulder, tugging your feet under yourself.

“Figured it out, yet?” Elias asks softly.

“Yep,” you answer. The movie is nearing the end but you figured it out within the first ten minutes. “Basic physics, not to mention common sense, are thrown to the wind as Christmas repeats every day, disappears from the calendar, or is hurled into the past or future.”

Elias doesn’t respond, and suddenly you wanna know.

“Are you okay?” It’s probably a weird question, and very out of the blue, so you hurry trying to explain. “Cause you came in very sad, and like, if you don’t wanna talk about it with me that’s fine but I think it’s good to talk about things sometimes so if you wanna…”

“I’m fine,” Elias says, cutting you off, but it doesn’t sound dismissive. It sounds a little amused, and when you turn to look at him, you find him smiling. “Worried about me?”

And it’s the strangest thing, but you are. “A little.”

Elias’ face softens. “I promise I’m okay,” he says. He reaches out, then, places his hand on yours and squeezes. “I just talked to my parents before I came here, on Skype, and they were talking about Christmas and it sucks that I can’t see them for the holidays. But it is what it is.” He shrugs. “I sulk for a bit and then I move on.”

You never really go home for the holidays, but you understand how awful it must be to be stuck alone in Canada with your whole family in Sweden.

You blame the quiet, late night energy for what comes out of your mouth next.

“I think I could be convinced to make you a Christmas dinner if you ask nicely.”

Elias laughs, and his hand is warm when you turn your palm up and he laces his fingers through yours.

“If I ask nicely, will you watch another movie with me right now?”

You pull the Christmas themed throw blanket over your legs before letting your head drop against Elias’ shoulder once again.  

“You don’t even have to ask.”

--

“I have an idea,” Elias says through the phone, and you don’t quite recognize the tone in his voice at first. “Well, it was Brock’s idea, but I think it’s a good one.”

Anything that was Brock’s idea immediately fills you with doubt, and you frown. “What?”

That’s when you realize: Elias sounds excited.

“Brock knows someone with a cottage, about two hours from here. It’s in the forest and it’s supposedly very Christmassy. We should go for a night.”

He sounds quietly pleased, and you don’t have the heart to tell him no.

“Okay.”

Objectively, though, it’s an awful idea. A Christmassy cottage in the forest also sounds like it would be very romantic, and you’ve finally come to terms with the fact that what you feel for Elias is definitely not just friendly comradery at this point. Feeding this feeling would not be smart, considering the fact that it’s almost Christmas and after that you’ll most likely never spend time with Elias like this again.

Sure, he might be at parties with the other Canucks or Brock might invite him for drinks with you, but it won’t be like this. You’re not stupid enough to think this will last: that would be a real Christmas miracle, and Christmas miracles don’t exist.

“Sometimes I wish I could read your mind.” Elias’ voice startles you despite the fact that his words come out softly. It’s been quiet in the car, apart from the low murmur of the radio in the background, for a good fifteen minutes.

You’re on your way to the cottage and your thoughts are going a million miles per hour.

You look over at Elias. He’s staring ahead at the road, one hand on the wheel and the other in his lap. He looks relaxed. Comfortable.

“It’s usually nothing interesting,” you say, and you thank the universe that he can’t know what’s going on in your mind.

“Are you thinking about your story?” he asks, and you weren’t, but it’s as good an excuse as any.

“I’ve gotta email it to my professor in four days,” you admit. “And I haven’t put a single word on paper yet.”

You’ve tried, that’s for sure. You’ve spent hours on your laptop, staring at a Word document. You’ve typed sentences and deleted them, tried to outline the story or just wing it while typing. Nothing works, nothing feels right when it stares back at you from the screen.

Elias hums noncommittally. “I think you think about it too much,” he says. “Just don’t worry about it. And write what you know.”

You scoff. “I don’t think anyone wants to read a Christmas story about a father who bails on his family, Elias. Nobody likes sad Christmas stories.”

He smiles. “Any sad Christmas cliches on your list?”

“Each and every event, whether holiday related or not, is tainted through the loss of a dead relative. Example: “Can I have a glass of water?” “Your, uh, *swallow*, your grandmother used to drink water.””

Elias laughs before reaching for the radio and turning up the music. You never listen to Christmas music, as a rule, but somehow you don’t hate it now that it’s blasting through his stupid sports car, the world flying past you through the window.

The drive is filled with Elias humming along to Christmas music and you laughing whenever he pulls a face at one of the lyrics. You spend at least 30 minutes debating if ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ should still be allowed on the radio – no – and whether or not Michael Buble is the king of Christmas – in Europe, apparently yes.

By the time you reach the cottage, you feel a lot more positive.

Until you see it.

“Uhm,” you bring out, staring at the place in front of you. Elias barks out a laugh, but it sounds mostly disbelieving.

“When Brock said ‘cottage in the forest’, I pictured something different,” he says sheepishly.

“I guess this shows the power of speech?” you offer. “Like, ‘cottage in the forest’ and you think of this beautiful rustic romantic getaway. But this is more ‘cabin in the woods’: I think we’re about to get murdered.”

Elias raises an eyebrow. “Romantic?” he repeats, an amused tilt to his voice, and you nearly get back in the car.

Way to put your foot in your mouth.

Luckily for you Elias doesn’t dwell on it. Instead he wanders inside, where at the very least it looks a little better.

It’s cold, and there’s no working electricity, but there’s a fireplace and a billion candles, and it’s decorated quite cosy. Maybe even Christmassy, if you really squint: although you’re happy to notice there’s no tree.

It’s easier than you thought it would be, to spend an evening in some dodgy cabin with Elias. It’s easy to chat about everything and nothing, to cook dinner with him. How domestic it feels to tease him about how slowly he chops the mushrooms, while he somehow makes sure your wine glass is always full.

Silence doesn’t fall until long after dinner. The fireplace is on, fickle candle light giving the room an orange glow. You’ve somehow ended up with your feet in Elias’ lap, although you can’t remember how they got there: you’re painfully aware of the heavy grip of his hand around your ankle.

The wine has given your brain a nice fuzzy feeling, has softened up the edges around your thoughts. And all you can think, now, is how nice this is: to have Elias right there next to you, blue eyes fixed on the ember flames burning in front of you.

“I’m glad that Brock kept forcing us to hang out,” you say, without thinking. Elias glances over at you.

“Forcing us?” he repeats, as if he’s not sure what you mean.

You shrug. “Come on, Elias, we didn’t like each other before this. You probably didn’t want to hang out with me as much as I didn’t want to hang out with you.”

The words hang heavy in the air for a second. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear you saw Elias flinch.

“Actually,” he says tightly, and your heart does a traitorous swoop. “Brock never forced me to come. I always asked. If I knew he was gonna see you, I asked to come along.”

The words hit you like a freight train. You can feel your heart beating in your chest. But surely there’s no way you’ve been wrong all this time?

Brock did say Elias didn’t hate you.

“But… I thought you didn’t like me.” Your voice sounds small in the quiet room. It feels different here, so far away from the city: when the night is so silent all your thoughts sound so loud.

Elias shrugs. He doesn’t look upset, per se, but his face is carefully closed off and you know now that’s not a good sign.

“I know you thought that,” he says, voice flat. “I know that first night I came off as rude.” His smile is wry. “I was nervous, I didn’t really speak English, and you’re very pretty. I guess it was a recipe for disaster, on my end, so it doesn’t surprise me you didn’t like me.”  

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks, your heart pounding in your throat. You’re hearing his words but they sound almost foreign, and you can’t quite believe he’s really saying them.

“I’ve always liked you, though,” Elias adds, almost as an afterthought, carelessly like it doesn’t matter. Like he doesn’t know what that does to you, your mind going into overdrive.

You’re not an easy person to like. That’s not you being hard on yourself, you just know you judge too harshly, react too quickly. You go into downwards spirals of negative thoughts, you put opinions into people’s mouths, and most of all, you don’t believe in happily ever after.

People, in your experience, don’t stick around for people who won’t promise them happily ever after.

But Elias is here, having brought you to this cabin, having pushed and pushed to be around you: and you didn’t even notice. You thought he was just doing Brock a favor, you thought he was just bored. He’s not been very outgoing about his affections, but you can tell that they’re there; from the way he’s put up your Christmas tree to how he always listens to every word that falls from your lips. No, he’s not been very outgoing about with his affections but he’s been plentiful with them, and you just didn’t notice.

“Elias,” you start, but the sentence dies on your lips when he turns to face you, suddenly a lot closer than he was before.

“What about now?” he asks. You must look as confused as you feel, because he clarifies right away. “What do you think about me now?”

There’s nothing unsure about the question, and you think the answer is been pretty clear. You wouldn’t be here if the answer wasn’t clear. But despite that, despite that he seems to already know what you’re gonna say, you wanna say it anyway. You think you have to say it anyway.

“Now I like you,” you tell him, sitting up straighter. “I really like you, Elias.”

The last thing you register is the pleased smile tugging at the edges of Elias’ mouth, and then his lips are against yours.

The kiss is soft but not hesitant. Maybe he’s giving you time to think about it, this way, if this is what you want: but in that moment there’s nothing you want more, nothing but a fierce desire to trace your hands down his body.

As soon as your fingers touch his arm, Elias deepens the kiss. He kisses exactly how you would expect him to; giving you everything, no trace of doubt or hesitation.

There’s nothing frantic about it, nothing scary. With every second that ticks by you fall a little further into it, your mind a lovely shade of blank – with the exception of the boy in front of you, like all your nerves screaming his name.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice is soft as he pulls away. He doesn’t take his hands away from where they’re laying against the bare skin of your back. “We don’t have to go further.”

He’s giving you an out, you realize, a second to gather your thoughts. You could pull away now, you could put some space between the two of you.

You scoot forward, moving even more into his lap, and carefully curl your hand around his jaw. He leans into it slightly, and your heart screams with how much you want him.

You don’t answer. Even as a writer, you realize that words are sometimes overrated. Instead, you press your lips against his, placing your heart in his hands as you kiss him once more.  

--

It takes about two hours after you get back to your apartment for the reality of it all to comes crashing down at you.

The night at the cabin was wonderful; magical, even. If you would write the perfect Christmas story, it would be a lot like that.

Except you’re not writing a Christmas story – you should, of course, but you haven’t started and that’s because Christmas stories are unrealistic.

You and Elias, your story - no matter how wonderful – is unrealistic. What were you thinking? That Elias, being who he is, would simply… What? Become your boyfriend?

He’s Vancouver’s biggest star, everyone’s favorite person. You’re just another lonely writer who lives mostly in their own brain. You’re just someone else who is hard to love; like your parents, like your sister, like all the friends you’ve seen get their hearts broken.

You call Brock.

“Wow, calm down,” are the first words that come out of his mouth when he finally speaks. You’ve told him most of the story by then, sentences coming out in shallow breaths and tears already burning in the back of your throat. “What the hell do you mean ‘hard to love’? That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You swallow. “Brock, it’s not real. What I’m feeling. People fall in love all the time and they all believe that’s it, their perfect story, but how often does that story end up a tragedy?”

“Y/N…” He sounds mostly sad. “You can’t live like that.”

But your mind was made up long ago, so long ago when you were just a child. When you saw the tragedy that was your parents love story, and then later it was only settled deeper, when you saw your friends get hurt, when your sister got cheated on.

“I can’t make myself the protagonist of my own tragedy.”

“Petey isn’t going to break your heart.” Brock’s voice is sharp, and you realize this is not a fair position to put him into: how can he be honest to you when that means breaking Elias’ trust?

“He won’t mean to,” you whisper. “But it’ll happen. It might not even be his fault. I’ll probably break my own heart somewhere along the line. But happiness doesn’t just come along this suddenly, Boes.”

“What is it does?” Brock asks, and you don’t have an answer.

What if it does is less scary what if it doesn’t, and the next few days when Elias calls, you don’t pick up the phone.

--

You shouldn’t have opened the door.

“You’re avoiding me.” Elias sounds... hurt. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like that. You’ve learned that when he’s upset, he mostly sounds indifferent; locks his emotions behind a wall for nobody to see.

And maybe it’s a testament to how well you know him, now, that you can pick up on the change in his voice. Or maybe it means he’s decided to let you in.

God, you hope it’s not that last one. Hope he didn’t make that mistake.

You sigh. “I’m sorry, but…”

“Don’t.” Elias cuts you off by pushing past you into the apartment. He stands glaring at you in the middle of the living room, arm crossed. “You’re not doing this.”

You have to.

“It’s just not gonna work,” you try. There goes the crack in your heart, bursting open like someone squeezes it with an iron fist.

You’re doing this to yourself. But that’s better than the alternative: better than having Elias do it way further into the story, when there’s something to destroy.

There’s nothing to destroy, now. There’s only the prologue to the story, and now the epilogue. A story with no middle won’t be remembered.  

“That’s not true.” Elias isn’t backing down. “You can’t tell me nothing this past month has meant anything to you.” He frowns. “Does this have anything to do with your Christmas thing? Would it be different if this had happened in January?”

You laugh, but there’s no humor there. If only it was that simple.

“This has nothing to do with Christmas, Elias. This just isn’t real. There’s no happy ending to my storyline, and I’m not dragging you down with me.”

You let your eyes fix on him, on the way he stands there stubbornly, still fighting for something. For you. If only it made a difference.

Elias doesn’t say anything, for a while. Finally, voice timid, he says: “You’re gonna throw this away because you’re scared.”

You are scared. But that’s not why you’re doing this.

“Damn it, Y/N.” Frustration rings clear in Elias’ voice, now. “I know you feel what I feel! You can’t just ruin that because you’re not brave enough to say what you want!”

“It doesn’t make a difference, Elias!” You’re hurting too, and you can hear your own voice getting too loud.

“I wanna live in a world where people don’t get hurt, and everyone’s got enough money and nobody ever has to skip a meal!” You swallow, hot tears pricking behind your eyes. “I wanna live in a world where people don’t get in the car to get a Christmas tree and never come back, and I wanna live in a world where Santa’s real, Elias, but that’s just not reality. That’s not how life works.”  

Elias’ eyes are dark, his jaw tense. You know you’re not gonna like what he’s got to say before he’s even opened his mouth.

“Maybe not,” he says tightly, “but you live in a world where people can choose to love each other. It doesn’t have anything to do with Santa, or magic. None of those things are real, but love is real, and you can choose to believe in that.”

He grabs his jacket, is walking towards the door before you can even comprehend what he’s saying. At the door, he turns around. His eyes shine with sadness.

“I want to love you, but you have to choose to believe that, too. And if you can’t, then I guess it won’t ever be real.”

When the door closes, the last piece of your heart breaks in two.

--

“Merry Christmas!”

Brock’s voice is bright and cheery. He’s clearly only just woken up, his blond hair a mess and Milo passed out in his lap.

“It’s not even Christmas yet,” you tease. You curl your legs closer to yourself, your coffee in one hand and your phone in the other. It’s nice to see Brock, even if it’s just over FaceTime.

Getting your heart broken is even worse when you can’t really talk about it to your best friend, because you also broke your best friend’s other best friend’s heart.

It’s a complicated issue, is the thing.

“It’s Christmas Eve tonight,” Brock says, rolling his eyes. “That’s basically Christmas. Are you still moping?”

“Hey,” you protest. “I’m not moping. I’m sad. It’s different.”

You have been moping, a bit. The first two days after your final talk with Elias, you didn’t even really come out of bed. You just sat there and you wrote.

That’s the only good thing to come out of this, you think. You somehow not only wrote your story, it’s maybe the best story you’ve ever written.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Brock’s voice is gentle. “You can talk to me, you know? I won’t use anything you say against you or tell Petey or whatever. He’s been talking to me too.”

Your heart does a somersault. If Elias has been talking to Brock, Brock probably already knows everything; in a way, you can’t believe he’s still talking to you if that’s the case.

More than that, though, it brings an opportunity. To find out what you’ve been wondering since Elias stepped out of your apartment.

“Is he alright?”

“Are you?” Brock counters, like that matters.

You stare at the coffee in your cup. It’s too hot to drink still, little puffs of steam climbing through the air.

You’re not doing so well, admittedly, but that’s probably fair. You were the one to broke off the story, in the end. And you hate to admit it to yourself – and you definitely won’t admit it to Brock – but you’ve been wondering if you made the right choice.

“I wrote my Christmas story,” you say, instead of answering his question. “Handed it in yesterday.”

Brock lets you change the subject. “Cool. What did it ended up being about?”

You sigh. “It was about me.”

Brock raises his eyebrows, interest clear in his eyes. He doesn’t push you, and you’re glad for it. You need a moment to find the words.

“I wrote about a girl who hates Christmas because it reminds her of things that she’s lost. And I wrote about how scared she is of gaining something because that means she can lose it again.”

Brock’s voice is soft when he speaks. “But someone teaches her? In the story?”

He knows you too well. You laugh quietly. “Yes, someone takes her through all these Christmas cliches to make her realize why they’re cliches. It’s not because of the act itself. It’s because you spend time doing it with someone you love.”

“She loves this person, the one that teaches her,” Brock hazards a guess.

There’s no longer any doubt that he knows exactly how you feel about Elias.

“She loves him but that scares her even more. Because if she loves him, she could lose him. And Christmas has always been the time to remind her of loss and heartbreak. So she assumes it’ll just end in hurt this time too.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Brock says.

And you know. Somehow, writing the story, you realized that. Because as you wrote about this girl, that was exactly like you, you found yourself not wanting to give the story a realistic ending. You wanted to make it right, wanted her to end up with the person who taught her how to love Christmas and how to love him.

So you did. You gave your story a happy ending. And in doing that, it’s like you gave yourself permission to want a happy ending for yourself, too.

But there’s just no way. Life isn’t a fairytale, and the Christmas cliché where the girl who throws it all away gets back her perfect boy by stealing Santa’s microphone in the mall and making a grand speech about how pushing him away was the biggest mistake of her life, simply isn’t real life material.

“It’s not too late, you know.” Brock’s sitting up straighter, almost as if he wants to come through the camera and tell you in person. “If you wanted to change the ending. You could. He’d let you.”

Your heart starts beating faster and it has nothing to do with the caffeine you’re drinking.

All this time, you’ve been wondering. Wondering if it’s too late.

“How would I do that?” you ask. “Hypothetically.” 

Brock’s grin is so bright you nearly have to close your eyes. “Send him the story,” he says, without thinking about it; the jerk probably has been thinking about this since you started telling him what it’s about. “You should send him the story. Kinda like a message in a bottle.”

When you say goodbye to Brock, his eyes are fond when you tell him “Thank you” and mean it. Without him, you don’t think you would’ve had the courage, but now it feels like the only possible ending comes with you taking your Word document and putting it in an email.

--

To: [email protected]

Attachment: Not a typical Christmas story.pdf

Message:

Elias,

I’ve tried to write this letter a million times, to tell you what I should’ve said that night. I can’t say I’m not scared what you’ll think, but who am I to know what the future holds? If my heart was paper I’d fold it, throw it to the wind and hope it’d end up in your arms. So here it is, my paper heart, in the form of the most cliché Christmas story of them all. The one where everyone ends up with their perfect happily ever after.

Signed with love from me to you,

Y/N.

--

There’s three rapid knocks on the door, and then silence.

Your heartbeat speeds up like you heard gunshots instead. Within seconds you’re on your feet, almost running to the door.

There’s only one person that could be at your door on Christmas morning at 9am, right?

When you open it, something heavy dissolves in your stomach, a sense of comfort falling over you like crawling into bed after an exhausting day.

“Elias,” you breathe.

For a second, you just stare at him: he looks like he’s barely slept at all, dark circles surrounding his eyes, which somehow seem more blue than they ever have before.

“Merry Christmas,” Elias says then, thrusting something forward. You grab it in reflex.

It’s the glass star, the ornament from the Christmas market. The one that you had told Elias you found beautiful, the one that reflected all the lights like a million little stars. The one that reminded you, even, of Elias’ eyes.

It’s still beautiful. And suddenly there’s tears running down your cheeks, warm against your skin.

Elias frowns. He looks a little worried, unsure; as if he shouldn’t be here. But God, he is here, on your doorstep, and he brought you this ornament, and you know that it has to mean what you think it does.

“I’m sorry,” you bring out. “For everything, I…”

You can’t finish your sentence, because Elias steps forward, his arms outstretched, and you launch yourself at him like a missile. He catches you easily, presses you against his chest and buries his face in your shoulder.

“I read the story,” he mumbles. You can barely make out the words, but they hit you like a ton of bricks anyway. “You believe in Christmas miracles now?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, because he already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” you admit. You pull away a little, but keep your arms firmly locked around Elias’ waist, and his hands remain on your back. “But you’re here, so. I think I might have to start.”

Elias laughs, moving closer again to press a kiss against your head. You can feel his lips move against your hair when he speaks. “What about us? You believe in us, now?”

You don’t answer him, but you think he can tell from the way you kiss him, anyway.

--

You tug the blanket tighter around your shoulders, smiling down at the opposite end of the couch. Elias is talking in Swedish and you don’t understand a word he’s saying, but you can tell that he’s happy, smile bright and eyes fixed on the laptop screen in front of him.

He’s been talking to his family for the past hour, and watching him has been a great source of entertainment for you. He blushed when his brother mentioned your name, and finally he did introduce you to them.

“This is Y/N, I’m forcing her to watch Christmas movies with me all day and then bake cookies,” he’d laughed, and you didn’t tell him that there’s nothing you’d rather do.

“Jag älskar dig, hejdå,” Elias says, and then he finally closes the laptop. “Hey,” he hums, poking your thigh with his toe, “my mom said she can’t wait to meet you, so. Be warned.”

You laugh. “I would love to go to Sweden. I read something about cakes.”

It feels natural, to crawl over to the other side of the couch and lay down between Elias’ legs, head resting on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear and it’s enough for your eyes to close on their own accord.

It’s not like you’ve had much sleep the past few nights. But now, you think you could finally sleep peacefully, knowing that Elias is here and he’s not leaving.

His hand moves down your side, sneaking under your sweater, fingertips soft against your skin.

“It’s snowing,” he says, suddenly, and you open your eyes to look out the window.

Indeed, there’s little flurries of white powder fluttering through the grey Vancouver sky.

“That’s too much,” you roll your eyes. “The great grandmother of Christmas cliches.” Elias raises a questioning eyebrow, so you explain. “As the final crisis is resolved, everyone runs out in the street on Christmas Eve to discover that it’s snowing! In Nigeria! During a drought!”

“We’re in Vancouver,” Elias deadpans, and it’s only because you know him so well that you see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “And it’s not Christmas Eve, it’s Christmas Day.”

“Minor details,” you shrug, placing your head back on his chest and closing your eyes again.

“We’ve gotta decorate this sad excuse of a tree.” You can hear the smile in Elias’ voice as he talks. “Two ornaments does not make a Christmas tree.”

“Later,” you hum, curling your fingers into his sweater. “We’ve got all day.”

Elias laughs. “The tree is supposed to be decorated before Christmas, typically.”

You can’t help but smile at that. “We’re not a typical Christmas story, though.”

“Maybe not typical, but still pretty good.” His arms tighten around you and you can feel him press a kiss into your hair.

“Pretty fucking good,” you agree. “If you get me off this couch today it’ll be a Christmas miracle though.”

You shouldn’t have said that: no sooner than the final word leaves your lips you’re being lifted into the air, legs dangling helplessly as Elias throws you over this shoulder. Your giggles come out a little hysterically. 

“I told you miracles are real,” he grins, unceremoniously carrying you towards the bedroom.

You’ve just come from there, but you’re really not against the idea of going back.

“What about the tree?” you squeal, lightly slapping his shoulder.

“Tree can wait,” Elias decides, as he dumps you onto the bed and lets himself fall over you, leaning on his forearms so he doesn’t crush you.

“Tree can wait,” you echo in agreement, and you let your body relax into the mattress as Elias kisses you. When he tries to deepen it, you turn away just slightly, keeping your nose pressed against his cheekbone. “Hey, Lias?”

“What?” Elias mutters, sounding a little annoyed to be denied another kiss.

You smile. “Merry Christmas.”

His laughter sounds bright.

“Merry Christmas, babe.”

#eeek im nervous about this one #elias pettersson #elias pettersson fic #elias pettersson one shot #nhl fic

[happyreid187]

Privilege - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.1 K

A/N: Sad Spencer post nightmare comfort. Discovering and sharing feelings about each other. Mild angst then fluff. I wrote this after my season 8 rewatch but it’s not explicitly situated in any particular season. 

Warnings: Brief mentions of Spence’s various trauma; case issues, mom issues, drug use, generalized dark and twistiness. Insecurity. Swearing. Single sentence implying reader grew up religious. References to sex but not actual smut. 

____

With both of us working insane hours, we agreed early on to be casual, and then completely and entirely ignored that agreement in every way except verbiage. Avoiding labels and verbal expressions of affection, I pretended that it wasn’t emotional self destruction to spend every waking hour with this man who was notably not my boyfriend. With the amount of affection between us, it was easy to pretend it was something more. When we weren’t working, I essentially lived in his bed.

____

I was deep asleep when I heard him whimpering, waking to find him tossing and turning, breathing quickly. It took me a second to get my bearings, but when I did, I woke him as gently as I could

“Spencer! Spence.” His eyes shot open, and he immediately jumped, looked to me with his eyes welling up, and started shaking.

“Hey,” my voice was desperate as I wrapped my arms around him, “Baby, what’s the matter?” The pet name was generally reserved for other activities in this bed, but it felt appropriate now. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to calm him. “Was it about a case?”

“It was about...” he started. “No, I don’t want to freak you out!” He sort of tossed and turned again, now in my lap. “This isn’t your job, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He sounded angry; with himself, and the situation. I tried to ignore the feeling that’s he might be angry with me.

“Why would it freak me out? Your job is depressing as shit, Spence. This is kind of predictable. Talking through it with you? None of this is work for me. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you can.” I said, waiting for him to decide how to proceed.

He fiddled with his hands in that nervous way of his. “It was about you. First, you were breaking? Like glass on a windshield? Cracking but not falling apart. And everything around us was breaking; the phones and then the walls and then your face,” his voice broke then, “and then my own chest.”

Where the tears were only threatening to overflow before, he was really crying now, in a way I’d never seen him do before. In a way grown men rarely do in our terrible society if they can avoid it. In a way that made it hard for either of us to breathe. “But then it sort of mixed with work, and there was an unsub and he had you, and I couldn’t get to you. I tried, but I couldn’t get to you, and then...” he paused there, and I inferred the rest by his pained silence.

“You don’t have to keep going, I get it. And I’m not freaked out. I’m right here, Spencer. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you too. You are okay. You’re okay.” he didn’t say anything for a minute, and I rethought my words. “I’m not trying to belittle or silence you. I know you don’t feel okay. But you’re here with me, and no one’s broken, and you’re breathing, and I’m breathing, and you’re okay.”

“I’m not worried about me...” he grumbled, like it was obvious. Like I was wasting our time, worrying about him.

“Well I’m fine. I’m good. I’m happy to be here for you.”

He looked up at me doubtfully. “How can you be happy to be woken up at 4:02 am?”

Too sleepy to veil my feelings entirely, with words like adoration and devotion drifting through my head, I settled on saying, “It’s a privilege to have the chance to be here for you, and support you, and help you feel better. I have you, and you have me; okay? I’m here.”

“I’ve got you...” he softly echoed my words from earlier.

“You’ve got me.” I answered easily. It was a simple, honest fact to share.

There was a shift in him then. He pushed himself up with one arm, leaning back and staring at me, looking exasperated and vaguely frantic, like he just realized something was wrong. He looked almost angry as he asked “What the fuck are we doing?

I didn’t even know how to begin to answer that question. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m having nightmares about losing you, you’re like, taking over my subconscious, and renting all this space in my head, and then I wake up to find you here, in my bed, drying my tears and calling it a privilege! Like do you have to be so... I don’t know. Warm?” Well, that was a new one. I had never known that to be a bad thing, particularly with him. He flocked to my sentimentality like a moth to a flame.

He wasn’t done though. “I never intended to care about someone this much. It’s confusing for me. I know you have your catholic guilt, but you don’t have to martyr yourself for me. Dealing with my shit is emphatically not a blessing.” He took a deep breath and braced himself. He half smiled, half sobbed, and to be frank, he was freaking me the fuck out. “Unless you..” he trailed off. IQ of 187; an epic communicator, this one. I gave him a look that begged him to continue, holding my tongue as if he would break, like the dream, if I spoke. He sighed heavily, trying to catch his breath. I reached over hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to be touched, terrified of making it worse. Slowly, I wiped away the tears on both cheeks, willing him to look at me. He didn’t, choosing his lap instead.

I waited for him to continue. “I don’t have a lot of experience with fuck buddies,” he spit the last two words like they repulsed him, like they didn’t fit right on his tongue. Foreign words with uncertain and unsettling definitions. “...but I don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this.”

“Feel like what?” Despite the tears and the heavy air that threatened to suffocate me, I felt a new feeling. Like I would maybe feel better soon. I silently begged him to speak faster, hoping he could somehow telepathically pick up on my anxiety as I hung on every word.

“A privilege. That’s just...” he paused again, shaking his head. I could feel my anxiety coursing through my veins in a bizarrely literal sense. I wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, and I waited in suspense as he chose every word carefully. He then looked with me with the warmth I’d come to know, to expect, and to crave. “I know you’re a really tender person but why would you do this if we're just sleeping together?”

IQ of 187, this one.

After his lengthy monologue with its intensely painful pauses I cut straight to the point. “Are we?”

The sadness vanished from his face, leaving nothing in its place but wheels turning. No more damned pauses; I have to be brave now. “I’m not.”

“What?” I couldn’t figure out what to make of his expression. It wasn’t relief. Concern, maybe? Or disbelief? “Just sleeping with you that is. Does that make you upset?”

“No, no, y/n/n, it doesn’t make me upset.” his eyes meeting my face. I could feel that he was about to ramble, finally, and I was intensely grateful. “It depends on what you really want. It’s hard for me to believe that you actually want this.” he points at himself, like that explained his insecure thinking. Honestly, how dare he speak about my person in such a way, but now wasn’t the time to critique his criticism.

“You want to be woken up by nightmares after cases? To sleep alone while I’m gone? and when I’m around deal with my neurosis and awkwardness and rambling? and family drama? and drug cravings?” He dropped his eyes and his voice, “You could do so much better.”

We didn’t have time to even begin to unpack all of that. Not in the middle of the night, on the edge of everything we both want. I could write a novel explaining how he is in fact the very best I can imagine, but that would take time to convince him of. Time like years. Time like marriage.

Again trying to move this conversation to the conclusion I ached for just a bit faster, I answered directly, “Yes. I want that. I want you.” Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

I searched his face for some sort of happiness or disgust but received a blank stare and a look of bewilderment.

“I just want you. I’ve wanted you this whole time. I thought you would figure it out.” I laughed, and he smiled, a real smile that touched his hazel eyes that somehow sparkled in the dimly lit room, finally. “With fuck buddies, I don’t typically snuggle and go on museum dates or stop seeing other people or stick around for months.”

“You want me?” he smiled, but doubt loomed, and his smile fell as his long fingers traced my jaw.

“You say that now, but I think you’re going to find that I am a difficult person to love.” He said, as if I didn’t already know him. As if I didn’t already see him in all of his brilliance and darkness, all of his complexity and baggage. As if knowing him hadn’t been a precursor to loving him.

“Spencer, everyone thinks that about themselves.” I replied, greeted with still more disbelief. I continued in spite of him. “Besides,” I shrugged with a small smile, like my conclusion was entirely self evident, “It’s too late now.”

“What, you think that about yourself? First of all, you are unbelievably easy to love. The easiest in the whole world, probably. I know that that sounds hyperbolic, but I really mean it - I sincerely think that you are the single most lovable woman on the planet.” he rambled, talking with his hands and earning a tearful chuckle from me. “In my world at least. You are in fact, despite my best efforts, impossible not to...” he paused to physically shove the thought away, moving forward with a grimace.

“Second of all, what do you mean too late? I have a feeling I might know what you’re going to say. Please say it, y/n,” he whispered like that would make it less scary. “Or do you want me to say it? I don’t want to spook you but... it’s too late for what?”

“Too late to stop myself from loving you.”

 Finally, finally a look of understanding graced his face. A look like he believed me. He smiled that stunning, whole face smile of his that was reserved for special occasions.

 “Can you say the whole thing?”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too.”

He was only half sitting up anyways, so when I kissed him he fell to the bed, and protested immediately. “No! I’m so gross and snotty, stop.” I settled on peppering kisses on his neck and damp cheeks instead.

I laid my head on his chest, murmuring, “You can go back to sleep, and when you wake up, I’ll still be loving you, and I won’t be broken because of it, and I certainly won’t be gone.”

“Okay,” he responded, voice still broken, but no matter. He’ll heal. He’ll believe me more with time. Eyes heavy and stinging, my adrenaline eventually waned, and I was about to fall back asleep, when his voice pulled me back.

“Just to be completely clear, this is no longer a fuck buddy situation. Like, I'm your boyfriend. Right?”

“Was it ever really a fuck buddy situation?” I laughed “But if it was, it’s over. You are mine, Spencer Reid. If that wasn’t obvious.”

I could hear his smile in his voice “Sorry, it’s so late, and my brain isn’t really working and I just wanted to make absolutely sure.”

He paused for a few minutes.

“I’ll check back again in the morning.”

“I’ll still be here.”

~~~

In my half asleep state, his soft words barely registered. “Good morning, sweet girl. I’m so lucky to get to love you.”

“I love you too.” I mumbled, smiling without opening my eyes. There’s his confirmation. He’s always been one for collecting good data, I suppose.

“Please keep doing that.”

#spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst to comfort #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #bau #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #dr spencer reid #fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #reid x reader #my fics #spencer reid blurb #mgg imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg

[your-nerd-is-showing]

AOT Hanji x Fem Reader: Experimenting with Dildos erm Weapons!

You’re Hanji's best friend and experiment partner who is completely in love with Hanji but you’re terrified that she doesn’t feel the same way. One day you end up making some rather questionable looking items…. You get the brilliant idea to make a joke about these phallic looking weapons and Hanji takes it to the next level.

Content: Smut

TW: Just my gayness coming out to say hello, use of toys, oral sex (giving and receiving), slight orgasm control/denial, Hanji and her smug ass xD

NSFW AFTER PHOTO

It was early morning and you were sitting in the office you shared with Hanji working on a new compact weaponry for the Scouts. You inspected your work of these shells you were creating for the boom sticks. “This is all wrong!” You yelled in frustration as you threw the shell on your desk. “Ugh!” You ran your hands through your long (H/C) hair.

“What’s wrong?” Asked a voice from behind making you jump.

“HANJI DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!” You shouted as you held your chest.

“I’m sorry (Y/N) I didn’t mean to scare you.” She laughed.

“Hey that’s not funny you could’ve given me a heart attack!” You said in a huff.

“Okay, okay I'm really, really sorry…. Now why are you all upset pretty girl?” She asked as she placed her arm around you leaning in close.

You turned red as Hanji leaned in closer, the sweet intoxicating smell of her lavender shampoo invaded your nostrils as stray pieces of her wet hair brushed against your cheek. “I-it’s these stupid weapons I feel like the design is all wrong.” You held up one of the shells and it was a rather questionable looking metal tube.

“Well it is rather interesting looking.” She chuckled.

“You mean it looks like a penis?” You laughed with Hanji.

“Exactly! But I wasn’t going to say that!”

You turned away from Hanji laughing because you had a funny idea. You sneakily grabbed one of the shells and unzipped your pants sticking the shell out of the hole. You turned around. “Hey baby you wanna give him a stroke he really likes you!” You said in a low tone trying to sound like a guy.

Hanji raised an eyebrow and started to laugh. “Mmmmmmm why yes I would love to!” She said winking at you as she stepped closer and grabbed your ‘penis' while wrapping her arm around you. She smiled as she ran her hand along the smooth metal shaft pushing it between your legs.

You looked at her your face becoming redder by the second as she got dangerously close to your crotch. You could feel your skin get warm as your palms became sweaty and your heart was beating faster and faster. “H-Hanji wh-what are you doing?” You squeaked out as she pushed the shaft in more turning you on. “Hanji?” You bit your lip as you stifled a moan trying to escape.

She looked at you seeing the immense pleasure on your face. “Hm?”

“Wh-what are you doing?” You wined out tilting your head back as she moved the metal tube making it graze against your clit, a small moan escaping your lips. You let out a gasp when you felt Hanji's hand replace the metal tube between your legs. “H-Ha-Hanji! W-wh-what a-are y-yo-you d-doingggggg! Ohhhhh!” You moaned louder as she gently massaged outside your panties making your knees shake. You held onto her shoulders as she pressed her palm against your clit giving you some friction as your hips bucked uncontrollably. “Hanji!” You looked at her, she was completely entranced by how you reacted when she touched you. You took her face in your hand making Hanji look at you. “E-earth to Hanji? Y-you in there?”

She looked at you with her beautiful brown eyes. “Sorry yes I am here!” She laughed nervously. “And I think you know what I am doing (Y/N).” Hanji leaned in to kiss you as she unbuttoned your pants and slid her hand in your panties earning a sweet moan from you as she rubbed your clit. She broke the kiss and laid you down onto your desk. “I see the way you look at me (Y/N).”

You looked at Hanji shocked.

“What? You didn’t think I noticed? My darling (Y/N) you’re so cute when you look surprised.” Hanji smirked at you. “Lucky for you pretty girl.” She pulled down your pants and panties. “I like women and I really like you.” She leaned in kissing you once more.

You entangled your hands in Hanji's auburn hair wildly attacking her lips as she continued to rub your clit, making you moan into her mouth. Instantly you invaded her mouth with your tongue exploring every corner. Suddenly you felt cold metal press against your wetness, you broke the kiss. “Um Hanji are you thinking about using that on me?”

“Yes I was, why you don’t want me to?” She asked.

“Well I mean you can but, I have better things to use.” You said shyly.

“Oh? Do you now?” She asked raising an eyebrow.

“Y-yes…..” You squeaked. “L-let’s go to m-my room.” You said nervously as you sat up.

“Love bug why are you so nervous?” She grabbed your waist pulling you into her arms.

“I n-never dreamed that t-this would ha-happen, so I’m a l-little shocked st-st-still.” You took a deep breath in composing yourself. “Okay to my room!” You pulled your pants up and took Hanji's hand leading her to your room. You locked the door and instantly Hanji was stripping your clothes off. “H-Hanji!” You moaned out as she pulled your pants off again and rubbed your clit.

She leaned into your neck gently nipping at it. “Mmmmmm yes love bug?”

You wrapped your arms around Hanji groping her butt, she looked at you.

“Now where are these toys you have?” She asked while playing with your nipple.

“They're over there in my closet in a wooden box.”

“Show me.” She grabbed your hips pushing you towards the closet, you leaned down to get the box and Hanji smacked your ass while she inserted two fingers making you whimper. “F-fuck you’re so tight (Y/N).” Hanji grunted as she thrusted her fingers in and out of you. “I love it….” She smacked your ass again.

“A-ahhhhh Hanjiiiiii!” You moaned out as she pushed you over to the bed and laid you down.

“Now lets see what you have in here my darling.” Hanji said smiling at you, she opened the box and her eyes widened in excitement. “My, my, my you certainty have a lot of spare time to have all of these.” She said smugly.

“I made all of those…..” You said shyly.

“Well I kind of guessed that.” Hanji started to go through the box. “What is this?” She picked up a metal tube with a black knob on the end.

“Turn the knob and find out.” You said smugly, she did so and it started to vibrate.

“Ooooooooh I like this one!” Hanji took the vibrator and held it to your clit making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“F-fuck H-Hanji.” You groaned.

“Oooooh what’s this?” She asked holding up a rubber dildo with a fat round base and a pair of odd looking underwear with a hole cut out.

“Well you put that through the hole in the underwear strap it on and bam you have a penis!” You laughed.

“What in the world made you make these?”

“I-I was hoping we could use them on each other some day.” You said shyly.

“Wait have you ever used any of these?” She asked as she pulled out another dildo.

“The one you’re holding is the only one I’ve ever used.”

“Ohhhh this is going to be a lot of fun!” She said getting excited. “Now I have a question for you.” You looked up at her. “Are you a virgin?”

“No I am not….. I had a drunk hook up with Levi once….. I didn’t like it too much that’s what made me realize that I liked girls…. To be honest he was kind of scary even naked.” You laughed.

“Wait you hooked up with Levi!?” Hanji asked astounded. “I didn’t think shorty had it in him! I’m impressed.”

“You ready to be more impressed? I took the Captain’s virginity.”

“NO WAY!”

You smirked and nodded. “Indeed I did.... Honestly I think he used me for practice because he was soon dating Aurora after that but I'm not holding it against him…. She can have his crazy ass.” You laughed.

Hanji laughed too. “Yea he is pretty crazy, but enough about shorty. Let’s have some fun pretty girl.” She cooed as she went down on you.

“F-fuck H-Hanji!” You wined out as she nibbled on your clit making your hips buck. You grabbed her soft auburn hair tugging on it as she swirled her tongue around. “Ohhhhhh!” You moaned as Hanji took the vibrator thrusting it in and out of you. You felt the knot tighten in your stomach, your breathing became heavier squirming beneath Hanji as she pushed the vibrator in deeper. “H-Ha-Hanjiiiii I'm go-go-going to cummmmm!” You howled.

“No you’re not allowed to yet.” She said smugly as she pulled the vibrator out of you right before you hit your climax.

You laid there in a daze trying to comprehend what had just happened. “W-what the hell?” You grumbled.

“(Y/N) don’t worry you’ll have the best orgasm of your life. I just don’t want you cumming…. Yet.”

You looked at her with pleading eyes. “But Hanji I can cum more than once.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh can you now? Hmmmm well that does change things.” Hanji grabbed your dildo and slowly inserted it making you go crazy as she swirled her tongue around your clit.

You grinded against her face as she went deeper and deeper, instantly making you cum and gush into her mouth. “Ohhhhhh f-fu-fuckkkkkk Hanjiiiiii!” You screamed out in pleasure as you rode out your first orgasm.

Hanji came up and kissed you deeply as she ran her hands all over your soft supple skin pulling you in closer. “I love how sensitive you are love bug, I barely did anything to you and you’re already a puddle.” She said smugly.

You looked up at her giving her a shy smile as your hands traveled down unbuttoning her pants. Slowly you slid your hand into Hanji's panties gently massaging her clit making her tremble at your touch. “Oh? Do you like that Hanji?” You smirked as you watched Hanji's face.

“Y-yesss!” She wined out as you pushed a couple fingers inside her. “F-fuck (Y/N).” Hanji slowly moved her hips as she rode your fingers.

“Why don’t you lay down and let me have some fun Hanji?” You removed your fingers from between her legs.

She looked at you through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

You gently pushed Hanji onto the bed and unbuttoned her shirt. You unhooked her bra, gently playing with one nipple while your mouth sucked on the other one, Hanji squirmed beneath you. You ran steamy kisses down her torso, making her shiver. You looked up at Hanji smiling as you pulled down her pants. “Why hello there.” You cooed as you took off her panties and started rubbing her clit.

“Ohhhhhh (Y-Y/N-N)!” Hanji moaned out as you slipped a couple fingers inside her. “F-fuck.”

“Hanji you’re so wet.” You cooed as you continued to finger her. “Hanji can I use the strap-on, on you?”

She looked at you all excited. “Ohhhh yes you can!”

You got up to put the strap-on together putting the dildo through the hole and strapping it so it doesn’t fall out. You repositioned yourself between Hanji's legs, slowly inserting the dildo making Hanji moan out loudly.

“F-fuck (Y/N)!” She screamed out in pleasure as you went deeper. You adjusted her legs to get better leverage going even deeper pounding into Hanji harder and harder. “Oh fuck baby girl just like that!”

“Yea? You like that?” You cooed as you spread her lips and massaged her clit.

“Oh fuck yes (Y/N)! I'm-I'm gonna cuuuummmmm!” She moaned out.

“Aweee so soon?” You pouted.

“I’m sorry its been a while since I’ve been with anyone….”

“Well why don’t we change that?”

~End

#daddy ackerman #attack on titan #your-nerd-is-showing #aot #aot hanji #hanji zoë #hanje zoe #snk hanji #shingeki no kyojin hanji #hanji zoe #hanji zoe smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #snk smut #more smut

[mossharpy]

Do u know any TOH fics where it focuses on human culture/Luz being different? I can't find any :(

i've got two! but then this prompt took me by the hands and i ended up writing my own little drabble.

from ao3:

crossing paths by Vikingfangirl23 | 2991 Words | One-Shot | Summary: Luz deals with bullies, Owlbert's been following her longer than she realizes.

It's Just Hair by foolish_snail | 1889 Words | One-Shot | Summary: Luz is tired of getting bullied for her hair. May as well do something about it.

from me (under read more):

Willow and Gus were avoiding her. It was frustrating; all day they’d been skirting around her questions and attempts to confront them about their unusually skittish behavior. They told each other everything—why was this time different? Luz had briefly worried she’d done something to upset Willow, who tended to still be sore about how much time she was spending with Amity.

Luz understood where the witch was coming from, she’d be upset if her best friend started dating her ex-bully too. But, if that was the case, why was Gus avoiding her? Gus was brutally honest about his feelings; he wore his heart on his sleeve. Willow was more closed off, but Gus was always willing to play middleman if a miscommunication occurred. Even worse, when she’d asked them about wanting to sit together at lunch, the two came up with some on-the-spot excuse about having detention. Luz loved her friends, but they were terrible liars.

But she didn’t push. Luz let them go.

The human poked her PB&J, sighing. She didn’t like being ignored.

Fridays were usually her favorite day of the week. She loved Hexside—don’t get her wrong—more than she’d ever loved school, but on Fridays, as soon as school let out, Willow and Gus would follow her back to the Owl House. There, they’d begin their usual ritual of eating far too much junk food and watching crappy Boiling Isles reality TV. It was fun, it was their chance to put aside all their worries, about school, about magic, about getting home, and let loose.

Their distance made Luz think her friends weren’t willing to hang out that night.

A plastic tray gently found a place next to her, and Luz let her eyes wander upward to land on the face of her girlfriend. She smiled, worries abandoned, and focus turned toward Amity, who nervously pulled a string of lavender hair from her face, a pale blush creeping over her nose and tinging her face.

“Are Willow and Gus joining us?” She spoke formally, a trait the witch often defaulted to when trying to hide how flustered she was.

The question made Luz frown, and she let her head fall against the lunch table. “They’ve got better things to do.”

Amity nodded, taking Luz’s hand under the table, and hesitantly letting their fingers intertwine. “I guess they would be busy, what, with the party, they’re planning and all.”

“…Party?”

The purple-haired witch made a small face, “You didn’t know? Gus has been talking my ear off all day about it.” She conjured her scroll to show her girlfriend, gesturing to the dozens of unread penstagram messages she’d likely chosen to ignore.

“The two of them have been insufferable today, how am I supposed to know the difference between Pep Ph.D. and Dr Fizz? And what in Titan’s name is a clown.” She threw up her hands, irritated, before resigning to letting them sit crossed over her chest.

Luz shrugged, still staring at the number of messages, “Pep tastes kinda like barbecue sauce if it was carbonated, Dr Fizz is sweeter, bubblier, and by far the better soda. And clowns are a staple of every good party.”

Amity looked slightly baffled, like she wasn’t expecting Luz to have an opinion either, then gently took her scroll back to rapidly text a message to Gus.

“…What’s the party for?” The words came out muffled, and slightly anxious. She wanted to help, she was a great party planner—Willow knew that, Gus knew that, why were they leaving her out?

“Oh,” Amity was stilly texting, “I think Gus’s birthday is coming up.”

“WHAT?” Luz slammed her hands on the cafeteria table, startling Amity and bringing the attention of the rest of the lunchroom to both of them, various Hexside students glaring or staring, judgingly.

Amity gently brought her hands to Luz’s shoulders, pulling the human back into her seat and nervously laughing. Said human leaned in, close, raising a hand to her mouth to whisper.

“What do you mean Gus’s birthday is coming up?” She was his friend; she should be an expert in these kinds of things! No wonder he and Willow had been avoiding her, they probably didn’t want to break the news to her that she had forgotten one of her best friends’ birthday.

“The party is this weekend,” Amity supplied, mimicking her girlfriend’s hushed tone. “They’ve been sending out invitations on penstagram all day.”

She turned her scroll toward Luz again, this time, a fun-looking, brightly colored invitation with a doodle drawing of Gus throwing confetti, sprawled across her penstagram dashboard. The specific details were cut out, but she could see that Amity was right—the party was this Saturday.

A small knot formed in Luz’s stomach. She couldn’t get a scroll—they were too intertwined with witch magic, and without a bile sack, it was hard to get one. Normally, if she really wanted to see what was going on, she’d ask Eda to borrow hers, but she didn’t have one of her own. Gus knew that, so did Willow. Did they not want her there? Why wouldn’t they give out invitations in person? Why were they hiding this from her?

She slumped onto the table, burying her face in her arms.

“I guess, well—” Amity faltered, catching up on her girlfriend’s sudden deflation, “It is his thirteenth birthday.”

Luz cringed.

“No, no,” Her girlfriend continued, “It’s his thirteenth birthday, Luz.”

She stared, blankly. “I don’t get what you mean. Why are you saying ‘thirteenth’ like that?”

“Oh shoot,” Amity face-palmed, a pointed ear twitching, “Of course you wouldn’t have the thirteenth, I forget how fragile humans are.”

“Hey,” Luz dragged out the word, scowling, “We’re not fragile, we’re just not meant to digest fairies or survive boiling water.”

Her girlfriend snickered, “Like I said, fragile. Anyways, when a witch turns thirteen, you have to go through some… trials.”

“I like trials,” Luz mumbled.

Amity smiled, fondly, then grimaced, “They’re not fun trials, Luz. A witch’s thirteenth birthday is said to be cursed; you have to spend the day with bad luck, and if you manage to survive, at the end of the day you can throw a party, celebrating your ability to wield magic and become a real witch. It’s a rite of passage.”

She ‘oohed’, “That sounds cool. Why wouldn’t Gus tell me about it?”

The purple-haired girl made a face, “I’m not sure. You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, even if you are… squishy. I’m confident in your ability to survive the death threats of a thirteenth.”

Resting her chin in the palm of her hand, Luz grumbled. “Thank you.”

She moped the rest of the school day.

When her final class came, and the last bell screamed, Luz sulked, taking her time to put away her spell books and potions, slowly zipping her bag and slowly tucking away her pencils. She wasn’t looking forward to walking home alone.

Her feet felt heavy, footsteps echoing down the bustling hallway as other students excitedly talked about their weekend plans. She tried to ignore every whisper of ‘party’, flipping her cowl up to hide her face. Normally, Luz didn’t mind people staring. At home, she got enough of it already, but in the Boiling Isles being the only human made her feel… important.

She didn’t feel important right now.

Her hand gently pushed the front door of the school open, light momentarily blinding her as her eyes got adjusted to the outdoors.

“Luz!” An excited voice called her name, forcing her head to instinctively turn toward the offending noise.

Suddenly, two bodies were tackling her, and Luz found herself toppling to the ground.

“Ohmigosh, are you okay?” A very frantic Gus clambered from their pile of entangled limbs, pushing himself and Willow off of Luz.

“Wha—Gus? Willow? What are you guys doing here?” She blinked a few times, rubbing at the arm she had stupidly hit on the stone ground. Dumb human arms, always getting injured. “I thought you would’ve been getting ready for the party.”

They both cringed.

“Oh… you found out about that?” Willow fiddled with the hem of her skirt, looking away from the human’s face.

Luz felt her face get hot. She was not going to cry about this. Absolutely not. “Of course, I found out! What I wanna know is why my two best friends decided I’m not cool enough to go to their really scary thirteenth birthday party? I know Gus has to go through dangerous trials, and like, prove himself and whatever, but I’m tough! I can take it.”

Gus looked between her and Willow, as if debating whether he should say something. A beat of silence passed.

“Of course, I want you at my party,” the younger witch finally spoke, “actually, that’s what we were coming to talk to you about—”

He scratched the back of his neck, pausing briefly.

“Eda told us that humans don’t have bad luck rituals on their thirteenth birthday, so we—well—we may have—”

“It’s a double party!” Willow interrupted, face quickly turning bright pink. “Sorry, sorry! I’ve been dying of anticipation all day.”

She pulled a rolled-up parchment from her bag, unfurling it to show Luz an edited version of Gus’s party invitation. This one included a small doodle of Luz as well as Gus, both donning matching party hats and throwing confetti. At the bottom, the date and time were clearly listed.

Saturday, 9:00pm, The Owl House.

Luz’s eyes widened, a large grin forming on her face.

“You guys!” She d’awwed, pulling them into a group hug.

“We didn’t want you to miss out, and Eda said you’d be able to handle all the bad luck just fine, and King’s okay with it as long as we bubble-wrap you, and we didn’t want to miss your birthday in case you had to go home before we can celebrate—” Gus cut his own rambling off, taking a breath.

“We got a clown!” Willow laughed, excitedly clapping.

Gus nodded enthusiastically, repeating her, “We got a clown!”

“Is this why you were texting Amity all those weird questions?”

Her friends both gasped, Gus especially offended, “I wanted to be as accurate as possible, the party is human-themed after all. Amity wasn’t supposed to tell you about it! That’s the point of a surprise party.”

“Eda was setting up pre-birthday decorations at the Owl House for tonight’s sleepover.” Willow added.

“Sleepover?” Luz repeated, awestruck. “Oh, my Azura, you guys are the best.”

The three kids hugged again, laughing about their birthday schemes. Human or not, Luz should’ve known better than to think her best friends would exclude her like that.

This was going to be the best Friday ever.

#long post #ask ask #writing bits #talking bits #writing recs #ao3 #toh fanfic #toh writing #toh luz #toh oneshot #the owl house #my bad if this is a mess it's not beta read and i wrote it in like. an hour #jhkjhkj enjoy! #misunderstanding trope my beloved #dirts and drabbles

[volleychumps]

How the Karasuno Boys react to fem! S/O being hit on by someone from another Team

Daichi Sawamura

-Oh it’s fine, he’s happy to know that other people recognize your beauty

-hold the fuCK up why is Kuroo touching you?

-only he can touch you, why aren’t you pushing him away?

-would literally death glare Kuroo,who was complimenting your body all the way from across the gym until he feel chills running down his back

-wraps arms around you from behind, smiling way too nicely at Kuroo, staking his claim as you giggle at your boyfriend’s jealousy

-”I know she looks goregous, but she hears it enough from me already. Oh, and she’s mine. Did I fail to mention that?”

-tucks face into side of neck whenever he finally leaves, grumbling as you poke fun at the fact he got jealous

-”I just want to hide you away, dammit.”

Sugawara Koshi

-He claims he’s not the type to get jealous 

-Until he sees you basically pushed up the wall by a forward Bokuto, who had his hand resting on the space next to your head, basically prohibiting you from going anywhere 

-Bites his lip, but you seem okay, right? You’d tell him you have a boyfriend, right?

-Unfortunately for you, Bokuto just laughs, claiming that you were just saying that to play hard to get

-Leans even closer before you get pulled away into Suga’s chest, feeling him at his peak anger level as he glowers at Bokuto, who smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets 

-”Eh, I knew you two were together. I just wanted to ensure you were manly enough to protect her when the time comes.”

- Waves happily before leaving, wishing you two the best.

-Say whAT

-Suga cups your face in his hands lovingly before wrapping one around your waist.

-You can’t help youself. “So...you say you don’t get jealous.” 

-To your surprise, he breathes out a sigh of relief before clicking his tongue, bringing his face closer to yours, his voice quieting to one that gives you chills

-”Don’t stray too far away from me...okay?” 

Asahi Azumane

-Sees that you were wearing a cami that accentuated your breasts that he loved,but realizes everyone would get to see you in it

-Hardly surprised when boys left and right come up to talk to you, leaving you to hide behind the clipboard you were holdingI

-Says nothing and tries to focus on practice

-Until one of them rests their hand on your bare shoulder

-Oh it’s fucking on

-Looms over the group of boys crowding you with a dark aura (which is natural for him, but he doesn’t know that)

-Slips his own jacket over you so that you aren’t visible, lifting his naturally deadly eyes to the boys, smiling his usually friendly smile

-”Hm? Did you guys need something?” 

-They all back away slowly before breaking into a run

-You can’t help pecking the cheek of your usual soft boi as the rest of the Karasuno team gapes at what Asahi had just done 

-Tilts your face upwards towards him as he lovingly strokes your cheek 

-”I know I can’t give you much, but I know for a fact I can give you protection.”

Nishinoya Yū

-Gets to practice late because he overslept, only to see you laughing your ass off with some guy from Fukurodani, who was a little too close for comfort

-Immediately begins to roll his sleeves up because someone’s about to get bEAt

-Decides against it, you can handle your own. You were just that strong-

-Did this fucker just adjust your bra strap for you? 

-You automatically become uncomfortable, prompting your sporadic boyfriend into action

-Throws the fucking volleyball at that bastard’s head, who turns to glare at him pointedly as Nishinoya promptly marches up to the two of you. He cups your chin and makes out with you heatedly, turning your mind to mush as he grabs your waist, pulling you even closer

-He’s long gone when Nishinoya finally pulls away, smirking at your blushing face as everyone in the gym’s jaw slacks with shock 

-He laughs loudly when you bury your face in his shirt out of sheer embarrassment, kissing the top of your head before smirking widely down at you

-”Come on, he touched your bra. We should go take it off.”

-”We?!”

-”Did I stutter?”

Tanaka Ryunosuke

-”Uh...Tanaka, is this really okay?”

-Deflates volleyball in his hands at the amount of pressure he was squeezing it, smiling scarily at a sweatdropping Suga

-”Hm? Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m fucking dandy.”

-The scary aura he was giving off didn’t reach you on the other side of the gym as you scoot another inch away from Takahiro, who didn’t seem to know how to back off 

-”Come on, you’re boyfriend doesn’t let you have friends?” Wraps his arm around you as you blanch, suddenly seeing you’re boyfriend walking over

-Sits down in the fucking middle of you two, making you hold back your laughter at how scared Takahio suddenly becomes as Tanaka slings an arm around your shoulder

-”SO. What are we talking about, hm?”

-The silence that follows is enough to get him to stand to walk away, but Tanaka isn’t done yet.

“Hey, (y/n), remember that night we-”

-Your mouth hangs agape at the absolutely vulgar words that followed, the heat rushing to your cheeks immediately as Takahiro darts away, his ears pinkened and eyes full of fear as Tanaka cackles in laughter

-You punch his arm when you realize what had just happened, Tanaka guarding himself with a playful smile on his face before he leans forward and grabs your wrist, stopping your punches as he leans in closer to you, your noses brushing

-”You gotta do what you gotta do sometimes, and I’ll be damned if anyone tries to take you away from me.”

Tsukishima Kei

-Would shrug at the group of players from Nekoma trailing behind you like lost puppies

-”Shouldn’t you help (y/n)-san? Aren’t you two dating?” A worried Yamaguchi asks your boyfriend who seemed like he couldn’t care less

-”What she does is none of my business.”

-You happen to hear that little comment, making you feed into the attention that the Nekoma boys were giving you, seeing how far you could test him 

-Let’s be honest though, aside from Kuroo, most of the players from Nekoma were harmless

-”Wow Lev, you’re really tall.” You compliment the gray-haired boy, smiling brightly at him.

-Yamaguchi watches as Tsukishima suddenly pauses what he’s doing, sweatdropping at how still he became

-”E-eh? You think?” Lev blushes as you flirt harmlessly,you picking up his hand and examining his fingers.

-”You’re fingers are massive!”

-Yamaguchi begins to panic when Tsukishima’s glasses flash over

-”You see, I think tall guys are the best.”

-That does it

-Your chin is suddenly jutted towards the side as the Nekoma boys watch with wide eyes as Tsukishima presses his lips to yours harshly, entangling a large hand in your hair before pulling back only to look at the group of boys like they were a nuiscance

-”Nothing to see here. Move along now.”

-You smile cutely up at your boyfriend, who scoffs before thumping your forehead with his thumb

-”You think this is some kind of game, huh? I’d like to see you try to win it.”

-Yamaguchi hides his gushing nosebleed. 

Yamaguchi Tadashi

-”You’re seriously dating that freckled kid? I can put five bucks up right now that I can give you a much better time than he can.”

-You glare at the boy who was attempting to flirt with you by bashing your boyfriend as Yamaguchi frowns down at the volleyball he was holding as the Karasuno team pat him on his back

-”(y/n)’s strong, and she loves you! Don’t worry about it!” Hinata tries to alleviate the tension obvious in Yamaguchi’s face to no avail as he focuses in on the words you were hearing

-”I mean look at him, his girl might just be taken from him right here right now, and you want to stay with a weakling like that?”

-Before you can return a sharp retort, another voice enters the scene, warming your heart at what was playing out

-”L-look, I know I might not be the strongest, but...” You watch with a small smile as Yamaguchi clenches his fists, trying to keep his composure. “But if someone tries to take (y/n) away, I won’t just sit back and watch!”

-You stand, initating a kiss with your boyfriend, smiling into the kiss as the douche from earlier stomps away, only to be met with Tanaka and Nishinoya, who promptly crack their knuckles (that’s what you get when you talk shit)

-”I know there are better guys.” Yamaguchi says softly, looking at you lovingly and shyly, cutting you off before you can disagree. “But if you’ll have me, then...please let me continue to cherish you.”

Hinata Shōyō

-Dense boy doesn’t even realize you’re being hit on until Kageyama whispers it to him, making him gulp at the unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his chest as he sees Kenji Futauichi asking for your number

-It’s okay, because you’re his right? You said you were his...so he shouldn’t worry!

-right?

-Feels automatic bubbling anger at the fact that he kept pressing on, despite the fact that you said no 

-Mumbles something to Kageyama, who blinks in surprise, but nods anyway

- Throws the fucking ball at you 

-Kenji dodges quickly in fear of the velocity it was coming to you, leaving you in line of fire before you shut your eyes, waiting for the impact

-but it never came

-you smile widely at the orange haired boy who had exhbited his phenomenal athletic ability, running at the speed of light and catching the ball before it can hit you 

-"Do you understand now?” Hinata meets the eyes of Kenji with the scary, hawk-like look that paints his irises. “I can protect her, and you can’t.” 

-With that, he pulls you away and you giggle at the jealous expression on his face before you realize what had just happened

-”You got Kageyama to throw a fast ball at me to prove your point?”

-Kisses your nose, grinning at you with his childish smile. “It worked, didn’t it?”

-”He understood that you’re mine, and mine to protect,”

Kageyama Tobio

-Come on, he of all people knew you were absolutely goregous, but out of all guys:

-Why Oikawa? 

-Glowers at the friendly atmosphere the flirty guy was creating, beating himself up for forgetting to tell you to avoid him

-Anger level reaches 100% when you spill water on yourself, the water making your bra underneath slightly visible, prompting the raven-haired boy to be in front of you within the next second

-Whips jacket off himself to wrap around you, turning to glare at the staring Oikawa 

-”I’d appreciate it if you tore your eyes away from my girlfriend.”

-Oikawa smirks, raising his hands in surrender before releasing a breathy laugh. 

-”I never expected Tobio-chan to get such a cute girlfriend! A girlfriend who certainly has good...taste in clothing.” 

-Doesn’t even hesitate to take Oikawa by the collar, meeting his playful gaze with an even stare 

-”Yeah, but I get to see it up close and personal while you get jackshit.”

-You’veneverseenthissideofTobiowhatwasgoingON

-”Hm. See you around cutie-chan!” Oikawa flirts around the seething Kageyama, who pulls you close to him when he finally prances off

-”Up close and personal, hm?” You tease, watching his cheeks flush as he slowly reverts back to his awkward self. 

-”Shut up. It’s the truth.” He zips his jacket up for you, hiding the water stain that revealed your bra. “You’re mine to look at, and mine alone.” 

=

#haikyuu!! #karasuno #haikyuu tobio #hinata shoyuo #asahi x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu sugawara #haikyuu daichi #haikyuu nishinoya #haikyuu yamaguchi #haikyuu tanaka

[honeypirate]

Usual Place

Kyotani x reader college AU

Kyotani’s anger seemed to roll off of him in waves.

Everyone who saw him avoided eye contact and gave him space in the hallway.

But you, you stood in the middle of his path with a smile on your lips as he got closer. You had missed him while you were in class and he was at practice. You wanted to hug him and kiss him but he seems angrier than usual.

“Hi” you say with a soft smile and he grunts at you, hoping you just move out of the way. He wasn’t interested in your cute antics after the day he’s had.

Your smile falters and he scowls at the reaction his heart has. Dropping to his stomach because he made you sad or scared with his reaction was the last thing he wanted but he couldnt force himself to be nice right now. He didn’t want you to make him feel better.

“I heard that you had a hard time at practice. I just wanted to give you this” you place a small box against his palm and then move away “I’ll see you later. I hope you feel better” you avoided his eye, thinking if you made eye contact with him you might cry. Not because you were scared of him or he did anything scary wrong, you’re just overwhelmed with not being able to help him and the fact that he doesn’t seem to want you around. Those are the feelings that hurt and have no where to go.

You move around him with your head down and his hand tightens around the small box, his other hand itching to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He sighs when he can no longer hears your footsteps retreating, and then continues his walk the other directions.

He opens the box when he gets back to his dorm and feels his heart ache at what he finds. A handwritten note about how proud of him you are and a chain he once mentioned wanting.

He slips the chain over his neck and reads yours letter, the anger in his head and heart dissipates with your words the more his eyes scan them. He’s not sure when he truly calmed down, but when he looked out his window it was dark and he new he had to talk to you.

Your phone ringing makes you jump and then shake your head at your reaction before picking up and answering when you see his name.

“Hey what’s up? Are you alright?” You ask and he hums softly and you can hear the change in him

“I’m okay. I wanted to thank you for the chain. That was really kind of you”

You feel your heart race “you’re welcome. I was gonna save it but I couldn’t wait”

he hums in response. “Are you busy?” He asks and you know what he’s gonna suggest.

“no. Usual place?” You ask as you close your notebook and look around as you find your shoes

“yes. I’ll be there in ten minutes” he says and you feel a calm settle in your soul from worrying about him since you heard about his struggle of a day from gossipers at this university. “See you soon Kyo”

You pull the hood of your hoodie up and over your head as you walk through the cool night air. Your shoes making the only noise as your toes hit the concrete as you walk down the sidewalk.

You can’t help but smile when you see him sitting on the bench under the streetlight. He looked like a thug who anyone normal would cross the street to avoid, but it warmed your heart to see how his face isn’t showing his normal scowl.

You sit beside him and he leans his head onto your shoulder “I’m sorry” he whispers and you sigh softly, turning and kissing the top of his head “are you feeling better?” You ask and he nods against you.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask and he shakes his head and you place your hand against his knee. “Okay. I’m here whenever you’re ready. And maybe next time you’re mad..” you say with a smile in your voice and move your arm around his back “you can still be nice to me” he sighs into you and turns his face away, his forehead in your shoulder.

“I’ll... make an effort” he grumbles out and you laugh. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you but he truly means it that he’ll make an effort. He’ll work hard and show you that you mean more to him than everyone else.

You wrap your other arm around his middle and hug him tight “I really miss you when you’re brooding” You say and feel his body shake as he laughs softly “I miss you too” he whispers, his voice desperately honest.

You rub his back in small circles as you feel some of his tension drain

“How about we stop by the convenience store and get a slushy?” You suggest and he leans back, giving you a small smile, leaning down and brushing his lips on the top of your nose

“Sounds perfect” he responds and you notice his voice sounds calm but tired, one of your favorite Kyo moods.

When you handed him a box of fried chicken from the store deli, just a few hours old and still warm from the heat lamp, he realized just how well you know him.

“Im sorry” he says again as you sit on the curb outside the store, sharing the chicken and slushes. “You already said that silly” you say and bump into his shoulder as you take a sip from the straw.

You looked up at him in the glow of the neon lights, the straw in your lips and your tired eyes and messy hair from your hood that got pushed down, he thought you looked adorable.

“I’m sorry for making you scared” he said and you saw in his eyes how genuine and how bad he felt.

you set down your drink beside you and cupped his cheeks making him meet your eye “No. I wasnt scared. You don’t scare me at all. I never feel like you’ll hurt me. I was just so sad that you didn’t want me around. I’ve been around you mad before I didn’t know why I made you angrier and I didn’t want to make the situation worse”

His hands cover yours on his cheeks, his warm palms against the back of your hand “id never hurt you” he says sternly and then his eyes soften again “you always make me better. But I was so mad and I didn’t want to feel better. Until I was alone and I realized how much you help me. I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t- I don’t” you place your fingers against his lips and smile softly up at him

“Kentaro Kyotani” you say obviously impressed “this is the most I’ve ever heard you explain and apologize” his cheeks heat up but he doesn’t move from your touch “you are a man of actions and not words but this is a big action for you. Of course I forgive you. I forgave you almost immediately. I just want you to be happy. I want to make you happy” you kiss the tip of his nose and he blushes deeper

“I love you” he whispers and your heart flutters, a small gasp leaving your lips as you meet his worried gaze “I love you too” you whisper and watch his eyes go from worried to relived before he brushes his lips across your softly.

Even though he’s not an optimist he feels increasingly more hopeful and confident just by being around you. Like you’re the sunshine warming his cold shoulders. You’re a good influence on him and he wants nothing more than to keep you around as long as he can.

This, this, felt so much better than brooding or being mad and sad and alone. You chase away his darkness and he will spend his days proving to you just how much he appreciates and loves you.

You brush your lips against his for a moment “I’m so proud of you. Thank you for talking with me” he kisses you again, his lips a little cold from his slush, and says “thank you. Do you have anything you need to talk about?”

You shake your head “I’m doing good today actually. But thank you for checking in” you bury your face into his chest and he kisses the top of your head “want any more of this chicken?” He asks and you laugh “it’s all yours bub” you say and turn your head so you could grab your slushy again. Drinking it and pressing sticky icy kisses to his neck.

#kyotani #kyotani x reader #kyotani x you #kyotani imagine #kyotani fanfiction #kyotani Drabble #haikyuu drabble

[levis-little-nuggie]

What the Ever-loving FUCK Happened in Chapter 16??!?!!

A synopsis/transcript of the events that transpired between the end of Lesson 15 and 16.

15-17: Time Loop 1

Barb shows us to his room and goes over the mission, telling us how to return back to the “present” after finding out about the door

15-20: no title

Open to Mammon’s room, all the brothers are in there bc they’re trying to get Lucifer and MC together, like a horror/scary thing to set the mood; the purpose to get Lucifer and MC alone together to open up; MC’s portal opens up and plops them in Mammon’s room with all the brothers; Lucifer and MC are in Levi’s room to play the game. We leave Mammon's room and immediately have to hide

16-1: Time Loop 2

Lucifer and MC are coming out of Levi's room and we're forced to hide in Lilith’s hidden room.

16-6: Time Loop 3

MC finds themselves standing face-to-face with Belphie, the attic door is open, and he starts hugging MC.

16-10: no title

Belphie kills us, then we’re speaking to a voice (Lilith's soul had been trapped, “I knew I picked the right person, I’ve been waiting for so long, you see. I’ve been waiting for you to come find me...after my death I remembered who I was, ever since becoming a soul, I’ve been watching over them, and in that time, I’ve forgotten how to get to the Celestial Realm.”) 

16-12: The Reunion

Brothers are standing over MC’s corpse and Belphie is out of the attic. There's a flashback of Barb telling us to find out how/who opened the attic door and not to be seen by anyone; however the brothers see us and the body Mammon is holding disappears; MC talks about Lilith having lived happily as a human.

16-15: no title

“I tell everyone the story as I heard it from Lucifer;” Diavolo comes in and informs MC they’re Lilith’s descendent. All the brothers start hugging MC and Diavolo asks: “Do you want to hug MC too, Belphegor?”

16-17: The Truth Revealed

Belphie tells us it’s his fault he couldn’t protect Lilith but Lucifer says it was his fault. The screen goes black and we're left with the assumption Lucifer lays out everything we already know based on what he revealed earlier in lesson 11 and in MC's flashbacks of Lucifer swearing loyalty to Diavolo.

16-19: no title

Barb is making and serving tea to the brothers, everyone’s in a good mood.

Lesson 17 starts with everyone acting awkward now with Belphie out of the attic and MC is now tasked with mending his relationships with all the brothers.

But wait, aren't we missing something?

You're right. We are.

16-A: Stuck Waiting

Levi: *sigh*

Asmo: Ugh, Levi, how many times have you sighed now?

Levi: I dunno, maybe 10 or so?

Satan: No it’s been 30 times at least

Asmo: Yes but what about you, Satan? How many cups of tea have you had, hmm? You know, if that stomach of yours gets all bloated from tea, i’m going to find you much less appealing

Satan: I couldn’t care less whether you find me appealing or not, Asmo. Also, instead of criticizing me, how about you say something to mammon here

Mammon: *mumble* … man this sucks so much … *grumble*

Asmo: Mammon, do you think maybe you could stop pacing around the room grumbling to yourself?

Levi: yeah, it’s super annoying

Mammon: Shaddup! How can I sit still at a time like this, huh? I mean MC went to the PAST!... Alone! Lke, MC may seem like someone who’s really got it together and stuff, but there’s a real boneheaded streak there that pops up at the weirdest times! Boneheaded, weak, and super reckless. Oh, and too damn gutsy! You never know when Marcie’s gonna take some sorta crazy risk! And like, that makes me wanna be there just in case. Like I GOTTA be there, or who knows what’ll happen?

Levi: Mmhm, sure, MC is SOOO special to you… What, are we supposed to be impressed or something?

Asmo: ooh I know exactly what you mean! It’s like you can’t help but what to lie down together on a bed or a sofa and do all sorts of naughty things- 

Satan: You’d better not do that Asmo

Asmo: excuse me? Could that be jealousy I hear, Satan? Relax. I won’t deny that MC is cute, but still, I think you’re pretty cute too Satan, so no need to worry

Levi: Yeah, MC really IS totally cute, don’t you think? And sort of … hard not to like… *grumbles*

Asmo: wait a minute… Levi, am I hearing what I think i’m hearing

Satan: You’ve only ever been interested in yout anime characters. Levi, has something changed?

Mammon: Whoa, is it just me or does that totally sound like a sign that Armageddon’s about to hit?

Levi: hey come on! Stop looking at me like that! Um...um...Asmo! You should go to the past and check to see how things are going!

Asmo: excuse me/ I know you’re just trying to change the subject, but don’t be ridiculous! I mean, you know that’s impossible. The doors into the past are inside Barbatos’s room, you realize?

Levi: Sure, but can’t you use your powers to charm Barbatos or something?

Asmo: ugh… no thank you! I mean, we’re really talking about Barbatos. If my powers did work on him, who knows what he might do to me once he ends up charmed? He might kill me, and i’m too young for that.

Mammon: pff, what’re ya, chicken?

Asmo: okay them why don’t you go seduce him, Mammon?

Mammon: Me? Um...really? … … Oh no no no no! No way that’s happening!

Asmo: but you really considered it for a second there, didn’t you? You considered seducing Barbatos!

Mammon: N-no, I didn’t! I mean, if it were MC, that’d be another story…!

Levi: You don’t need to remind us that you’ve got it bad for MC, Mammon. Keep it to yourself.

Satan: Well, powers of seduction don’t work on MVC to begin with, so you couldn’t do it even if you wanted to. Come to think of it...why are we all so hung up on MC anyways? It’s hard to believe that a simple human could have this kind of effect on us.

Asmo: hmm…I guess MC is just special, you know?

Mammon: ...yeah right. Special, that’s it!

Asmo: Still, let’s be honest. When it comes down to it, out of all of us, I’m the only one Marcie has eyes for!

Mammon: ...huh? What’re you talkin’ about?

Asmo: well it’s only natural, right? I mean, show me a human who doesn’t find me absolutely irresistible

Levi: ...well i’ll have you know that MC said that i was a true friend

Mammon: You’re all dumb as stumps! Have you all forgotten? I was MC’s first, after all, so clearly I’M the one deservin’ of all the love!

Satan: *blushing profusely*...

Asmo; mammon, don’t be intentionally misleading! You ‘ve got satan here thinking that you actually WERE MC’s first. Satan, what Mammon really means is that he was the first one to make a pact, okay?

Satan:...pff, like i care

Levi: if you don’t care, then why do you look so relieved? We can all see it on your face, Satan

Mammon: oh MC…! MC! Come back to us dammit! And soon!

Levi: Wait a minute! Where’d Beel go?

Asmo: Beel? Um, he was right there a second ago. 

Satan: Maybe he went to find Belphie?

16-C: no title

Beel: ...Belphie? Are you in there?

Lucifer: Shh, quiet

Beel: …! Lucifer!

Lucifer: he seems to be asleep

Beel: …

Lucifer: Beel, there’s something I need to talk to you about

Beel: What?

Lucifer: When belphie disappeared, you were the one who it hurt the most

Beel:…

Lucifer: I shouldnt’ have lied and told you he was up in the human world. It was wrong of me. Also, i knew how hard it was for you, but i couldn’t bring myself to talk to you about it… i’m sorry

Beel: Forget it. It’s fine. Belphie’s back now, so it’s fine.

Lucifer: Beel…

B: but to make up for it, Lucifer… from now on, i want you to trust the rest of us more. Look to us for help and support when you need it. Not just me. I mean all of us - including Belphie

Lucifer: But what if that still isn’t enough, even with all of us working together? What then?

Beel: that’s easy. At times like that...you can call on MC to help, of course. Isn’t that right?

L: Yeah. That’s right. 

Beel: I sure hope MC comes back soon. 

Lucifer: Yeah. And by the time that happens, Belphie will probably have woken up, too.

That's right. There exists a dimension where they don't get their MC back. The MC from that dimension has replaced the MC that Belphie killed.

Diavolo and Barb sent MC back in time to figure out who or how the attic door opened. MC had been acting under the notion that they needed the power equivalent of having pacts with all 7 brothers to open the door yet, even in the time loop it's still not clear. One moment we're hiding in Lilith's secret room and the next, we're standing in front of Belphie and the door is open.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me chapter 16 #obey me ch16 #om chapter 16 #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

[gamergirl929]

Kellex VS Preath (USWNT x Reader)

Anonymous Request: USWNT x baby of the team where she’s new and just socially awkward and Preath and Kellex fight over who would be their team moms

You were ABSOLUTELY terrified, so terrified you were trembling.  

A call up to the USWNT was something you never expected, but the second you joined the NWSL you turned heads, turning enough heads in fact that you were about to compete with THE best of THE best.  

“You alright?”  

You jump, turning abruptly towards the women standing beside you, those women being Christen Press and Tobin Heath, the two women grinning.  

You swallow hard, attempting to swallow the lump in your throat.  

“Wh- You’re...” You stammer, the two women sharing a glance.  

“Breathe kid.” You feel a pat on your back, jumping when you realize the person behind you is Kelley O’Hara, Alex Morgan standing beside her.  

“You’re...”  

The four women smile and you clear your throat, cheeks blood red.  

“Sorry, I’m just...”

“Scared to death?” Alex asks and you nod, shuffling from foot to foot.  

Tobin throws an arm around you and you stiffen, the happy go lucky forward grinning.  

“Well, don’t worry, we’ve got your back.”  

You hear a hum before another arm slips around you, this one belonging to Kelley.  

“Well, so do we.”  

Alex’s eyes widen as she glances at Christen, Kelley and Tobin staring at each other with narrowed orbs.  

Meanwhile you stand in the middle, eyes wide.  

You don’t realize it, but in that moment, you had become the prize in a battle between the two women with their arms around you, and by extension, the two women standing behind them.  

                                                           ***

“We can’t let them win.” Kelley growls and Alex snorts.  

“Win what?”  

Kelley nods across field, seeing you sitting in between Christen and Tobin on the bench, the two women grinning as Christen ruffles your hair.  

“Look at them, already acting like her team moms, that could be us, SHOULD be us.” Kelley spits angrily and Alex snorts.  

Alex can’t help but grin as you give Christen a small smile, though you still have issues maintaining eye contact, fidgeting nervously between the two women.  

Kelley smirks as she glances at Alex, a familiar sparkle in her blue orbs, a spark of competition.  

“Ohhhhhh, I know that look.” She rubs her hands together and Alex grins.  

It’s then that Christen and Tobin look across field, seeing the two of them smirking at them across field.  

Christen’s green orbs narrow as she glances at Tobin, their shared smiles completely missed by you.  

“Oh, it’s SO on.” Alex whispers and Kelley nods.  

“Fuck yeah it is.”  

                                                           ***

It wasn’t only Tobin and Christen who’d taken you under their wing, but Kelley and Alex as well, the two women making you feel just as welcome.  

If you were being honest though, you were terrified. Having so many talented women taking you under their wing was overwhelming in a sense considering you’re absolutely awkward when it comes to social situations.  

“Hey, you okay?” Mallory Pugh asks and you nod, fidgeting.  

“I’m just uhh... Not the best at... Socializing?” You wince, the forward giggling.  

“I understand, it’s definitely scary, but everyone here is really nice.”  

You’re completely unaware of the conversation going on between Preath and Kellex at the back of the bus.  

“Would you look at that...” Tobin smirks, glancing at Kelley whose eyes narrow.  

“Yeah, looks like Y/N and Mallory are bonding.” Christen shrugs, and Alex growls.  

“Doesn’t mean anything.”  

Tobin hums.  

“I think it means a lot of things...”  

Kelley scoffs.  

“Well, you’re wrong.”

Tobin smirks.  

“Someone seems a little agitated... Maybe because she knows someone would like US as team moms...” She shrugs and Alex scoffs, even louder than Kelley.  

“Not a chance Heath.”

Christen smirks.  

“We’ll just have to see who Y/N picks, but from where I’m sitting we’re winning.”

Kelley snorts.

“Dream on Pressy.”  

                                                           ***

The sound of clanking glasses and crashing dishes makes you jump, but it’s then you realize that Kelley is sitting in the seat beside you, panting, Alex on your other side.  

Tobin and Christen settle across the table, the two glaring at Kellex, much to your confusion.  

“Y/N, look...!” Emily leans across the table with her menu and Kelley scowls.  

“THAT is an alcohol menu, Y/N is a baby.”  

You pout, your bottom lip hanging out and Kelley gives you a playful nudge.  

“They’re always like that.” Tierna giggles and you smile, glancing at Kelley, the defender grinning as she shrugs.  

“That’s what happens when you’re team babies.”  

You fidget.  

“So, I’m a team baby?” You ask and Alex giggles, ruffling your hair.  

“Yeah, you are.” She grins and your cheeks flush.  

“Now you just need team moms.” Kelley whispers, her eyes narrowed as she glares across the table at Tobin, the forward grumbling under her breath.  

Your brows furrow, the tension between Kelley and Tobin palpable, the same tension hanging over Christen and Alex, the two women staring narrow eyed across the table.  

You shake your head, as per usual, remaining silent.

                                                           ***

You knew skirmishes weren’t fun and games, but watching Kelley and Alex go up against Christen and Tobin was like watching the USWNT compete in a World Cup, the four women tearing up the field, making tackle after tackle until Christen eventually sinks the ball into the back of the net, Tobin walking over and wrapping her arms around Christen, sending a triumphant smirk towards Alex and Kelley, the two growling.  

“How does it feel to be the rope in a middle of a tug of war?” Emily pats your back as she flops down on the bench beside you and your brows furrow.  

“I-I-I don’t know what you mean...” You frown, the blonde grinning as she nods to the field where Alex and Kelley celebrate a goal, Tobin and Christen glaring on.  

“They aren’t usually like that, but they’re fighting over you.”  

You turn towards her, eyes wide and cheeks blood red.  

“Wh-What?! Me!?” You stare at her, eyes bulging and she nods.  

“Yep little wall-flower. You.”  

You shake your head rapidly.  

“Why me? I’m just-” You motion to yourself and Emily chuckles.  

“They take being team moms VERY seriously, and they’re fighting over which couple are going to be your team moms.”  

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.  

“Why would anyone fight over me?”  

Emily jumps to her feet, ruffling your hair.  

“Because you’re a cutie.”  

Your cheeks flush.  

“I’m not a cutie.”  

                                                           ***

The following month it becomes VERY apparent that the two are fighting over you, which you STILL couldn’t believe.  

“You alright?”  

You jump, turning to Alex, the forward grinning as the two of you walk down the strip’s sidewalk, littered with multiple buildings, clothing stores, etc.

Kelley swipes the snapback off you head and you smile softly, the defender plopping it onto her own head.  

“I should’ve known you’d be into snapbacks.” She teases, fiddling with the hat before placing it back on your head, just the way you had it.  

A sudden whistle makes you jump, Kelley and Alex sharing a glance when they see Christen and Tobin making their way towards them.  

“Oh, what a coincidence!” Christen places a hand on her chest, her lips split in a grin.  

Kelley growls.  

“Yeah, real coincidence.”  

Tobin throws an arm around your shoulder, nodding to your hat.  

“Nice.” She smirks and you smile, cheeks flushed.  

“Th-Thanks.”  

“What do you say we get something to eat?” Alex smiles and you nod, noting the way everyone glances at one another, the spark of competition in their eyes.  

This was going to be an interesting lunch.  

                                                           ***

Lunch had of course been interesting, Tobin and Christen winning the fight when it came to sitting beside you, Tobin and Christen grinning whereas Kelley and Alex are glaring across the table at them.  

The tension becomes too much for you and you move to your feet, smacking your hands on the table.  

“OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH.” You yell, the USWNT veteran’s staring up at you with wide eyes.  

“Y/N...” Christen starts and you shake your head.  

“NO! YOU GUYS TREAT ME LIKE I’M SOME PRIZE TO BE WON AND I’M NOT.”  

You glance around with wide eyes, your cheeks blood red when you realize everyone’s eyes are on you.  

In an instant you’re slipping from the table and running out of the restaurant, leaving a guilty Kellex and Preath behind.  

                                                           ***

It’s hours later when a hesitant knock sounds on your hotel room’s door, a few seconds later the same door creaks open.  

“Y/N?” You hear Tobin whisper and you sigh, burying yourself in your blankets.  

“Go away.”  

Alex frowns as she moves to the bed, she and Christen sitting down beside you. 

“Y/N, we’re sorry.” Kelley sits at the end of the bed, patting the lump under the covers and you sigh, poking your head out from beneath them.  

“You’re right, we were treating you like a prize, and you’re not, we just... We want to...” Tobin sighs and you sit up, your eyes narrowed as your eyes dart from guilty face, to guilty face.  

Alex takes a deep breath, her hand on your back.  

“You’re the team baby, and we want to make sure you know we love you.”  

Your cheeks flush as you glance down at your lap, your fingers nervously fiddling with one another.  

“I know you do...” You mumble, leaning against Christen, the forward smiling.  

“Did you ever think maybe I’d be fine with all of you being my team moms?” You ask, everyone’s eyes widening as they share a glance, all grinning.  

“Well we didn’t think of that...”  

                                                           ***

Emily rolls her eyes, smiling as you snuggle between Kellex and Preath, the four women snuggled around you.  

Since you’d made the USWNT roster, the four were more than excited considering their baby had made the team.  

Your cheeks flush as Alex ruffles your hair, the woman kissing the side of your head.  

“We’re still sorry about what happened Y/N.” Tobin whispers and you smile.  

“I know, but I think you’ve more than made it up to me AND I did get four team moms out of the deal.” You smirk, the four women shaking their heads.  

When it was all said and done, the only thing better than having two team moms was having four.  

#uswnt #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #kellex x reader #preath x reader

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 27- Think Fast

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warnings for alcohol and recreational drug use

Masterlist

Hawks watches somewhat apprehensively as you put solo cups, mixers, and multiple handles of hard liquor out on your counter. “You look more terrified right now than I’ve ever seen you before facing a villain,” you point out. “I trained my whole life to fight villains. This is new. How many people did you invite?” He asks incredulously. “Just the Baddies,” you shrug. “All this is for just seven people?” “Technically all this and more, Kacchan’s bringing beer and Mina’s bringing white claws. Don’t worry we won’t finish it all!” you assure him before briefly pausing. “We probably won’t finish it all,” you correct yourself. At seeing the continued hesitation in Hawks’ face you stop your preparations for a moment and turn to him. “Hey I can call this whole thing off if you want,” you offer, but he shakes his head. “No, no don’t do that. Beneath the nerves I’m excited I promise. Plus what would people think if the great Hawks chickened out of a simple little party?” “I’m more worried about Keigo right now than Hawks.” “Keigo will also be fine.” “Ok, but you are more than welcome to stop drinking whenever. We won’t pressure you to get drunk if you don’t want to.” “I am older than you, yknow. You don’t have to baby me.” “Older yes but I, dear Keigo, am the more experienced and wiser one here.” “Well then, oh wise one, why don’t you show me the proper way to take tequila shots.” “I’ll grab the limes.”

You and Keigo might have gotten the tiniest bit carried away with your pregame so by the time the rest of your friends come knocking at your door you’ve already got a buzz going. As you swing the door open Denki and Mina are grinning back at you, Denki with an impressive bag of weed and Mina with the promised white claws, as the other three wave from behind them. “Let’s get fucking plus ultra in this bitch!” Mina yells and the rest of you reply with similar enthusiasm as you usher everyone inside. “Hawks and I already started so you guys have to catch up,” you tell them as you unlock your phone and toss it to Kirishima to pick the music.

At the start of the night you made a point to stick close to Keigo so he’d always have a familiar face to rely on if he got overwhelmed or didn’t feel like talking anymore, but as the drinks kept flowing you were delighted to find he seemed to be doing just fine on his own. In fact, Denki genuinely seemed keen on getting to know him more and the rest of your friends were just as welcoming. Soon it felt just like any of you all’s usual hangs and it wasn’t much longer after that that everyone was properly drunk. Soon Mina had somehow convinced Bakugo and Kirishima to back her up in an impromptu round of karaoke while Shinso and Hawks watched on from the sidelines. Denki sidles up next to you, throwing one arm around your shoulder while holding a perfectly rolled joint in his free hand. “Shall we head to the balcony?” he asks with a grin. You throw one more glance Hawks’ way to double check he’s doing well and when you see him burst into laughter as Bakugo and Mina fight over something inane, you feel something warm spark in your chest. “We shall,” you confirm before letting him guide you over to the glass door and opening it with a flourish.

There’s a chill in the air but the alcohol flowing through your veins means you barely feel it as you step onto the balcony and lean across the railing, Denki joining you as he pulls a lighter from his pocket. He places the joint in his mouth and then lights it with the kind of ease that comes from experience before taking a large hit and passing it to you. The two of you pass the joint back and forth a few times before Denki finally speaks up. “So how’s the little arrangement going so far?” he asks. “Better than expected to be honest.” “Have you guys talked about what happened yet?” “Not explicitly. He told me... a lot... about his past so I kinda get it now? but not about the night it went to shit.” Denki hums in acknowledgment. “How are you doing in general after everything that happened?” he asks. “I’m fine Denki.” “(Y/n)...” “I mean it. Don’t worry about little ol me.” “I’ll always worry about you.” “And I, you. Now stop killing the vibe. This is supposed to be a party remember?” Denki laughs at that as you move to sit on the railing of the balcony.

Keigo has to admit he’s pleasantly surprised by how tonight is going. He had worried about dropping into the middle of your friend group and spending the whole night feeling like an intruder but instead all of you have welcomed him with open arms in spite of everything. Between that and the alcohol he’s feeling more uninhibited now than he ever has his entire life. “I should’ve done this sooner,” he declares as he takes another sip from his solo cup. Next to him Shinso laughs, “damn right you should’ve.”

“Hey Kacchan!!” he suddenly hears you call. When he looks over he notices you sitting on the railing of the balcony. That can’t be safe, you have to be at least as drunk as he is and the joint you’d been sharing with Denki has burned pretty low so you’re definitely high too. “Think fast!” you shout and then you’re letting go and leaning backwards until you’re falling, the bright grin on your face never faltering. The blood in Hawks’ veins runs cold as he watches you disappear from sight. The muscles in his back twitch on instinct but barely any of his feathers have grown back yet so he. can’t. save. you. He can’t save you and he’s starting to panic when he notices Bakugo launching himself over the railing, the sound of explosions loud in the quiet night. Hawks jumps as he feels a hand land on his shoulder and turns to find Shinso giving him a reassuring smile. “Sorry should’ve warned you. She does that a lot, especially when she’s drunk,” Shinso tells him. “What? Falls off buildings?” “Yea pretty much.” “What?” “It’s a trust thing. The first time she did it was to prove a point. She knew he’d catch her. Now I think she just likes the feeling of falling while crossed.”

Bakugo reappears over the balcony with you giggling on his back completely unharmed and Hawks releases a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “That’s a lot of trust. When’d she start doing that?” Hawks asks. “I’m actually not sure,” Shinso replies, “yo Mina!” “What?” “What year did (y/n) start the whole ‘think fast’ thing? Second or third?” Mina walks over to join the conversation, plopping down next to Shinso. “Uhh I think it was third year after they started dating” she says. Shinso shoots her a look and elbows her but it’s too late. “They dated?” Hawks asks. Mina’s eyes widen in realization but it’s too late to take it back so she instead says “I’m gonna get more to drink!” and jets back off to the kitchen. Shinso rolls his eyes. “Yea, they did. In the end they decided they were better off as friends though, especially because Bakugo was a lot less mature then.” “That’s why she gets away with calling him Kacchan.” “Yea, probably. That was years ago now though, I don’t think anything’s happened between them since. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Shinso assures him before excusing himself to go talk to Denki.

Hawks knows it’s not his place but he can’t help but feel jealous now watching you tease Bakugo about getting slower as he lectures you on being an idiot. “I’m not an idiot!” you pout. “What else would you call someone that intentionally falls off a building?” he seethes. “Was there any chance you would have let me hit the ground?” “Obviously not, dumbass.” “Well there you go! Perfectly safe!” Bakugo sputters, his cheeks reddening, before finally grumbling “I’m getting another drink,” before walking away. This only makes you laugh harder. “Love you Kacchan,” you tease after him. “Fuck you!” he shouts back.

He’s one of your best friends. He’s one of your best friends. He’s one of your best friends. The phrase plays on a loop in Keigo’s head in a desperate attempt to quash the jealousy burning through his chest but he can’t help it. How long had the two of you dated? “Longer than the two of you did,” his brain unhelpfully supplies. His thoughts are interrupted when Kirishima drops down next to him with two beer cans in hand. “You look like you’re pretty deep in your head and (y/n) would kill me if I let you stay that way. Ever shotgunned a beer before?” Kirishima asks. “I didn’t realize I was that easy to read,” Hawks says as he takes one of the offered beers. “Typically you’re not. Watching you in action? You’re totally inscrutable dude, it’s super manly! But when you’re with friends you shouldn’t have to worry about that. Anyway, let’s not talk heavy shit man, am I teaching you to shotgun or not?” “Fuck it, why not.” “That’s the spirit!”

The party eventually reaches its natural conclusion as exhaustion starts to overtake even the effects of alcohol. Not to mention, your friends are keenly aware that unlike you and Hawks they actually have to get up and be out for work tomorrow. Hawks isn’t surprised when you give each of your friends a tight hug goodbye. He is surprised when the same offer is extended to him. It’s almost scary how perceptive your friends can be. When Mina’s hands get a little too close to where his wings should be he can’t help but flinch and immediately she adjusts. The rest of your friends make a point to avoid the area. Bakugo and Kirishima are the last to leave and it takes everything in Hawks not to let his jealousy show as you hug Bakugo goodbye. He’s once again shocked when Bakugo goes to hug him but he soon realizes that it’s not necessarily done to be friendly. “Take good fucking care of her bird brain. Cause if you don’t? I will,” he whispers harshly. As the two pull away from each other their eyes lock in a silent challenge until Kirishima calls from the hallway “Bakubro let’s go! Taxi’s here!” “I’m coming Shitty Hair relax!” he shouts back before finally breaking eye contact and heading out the door with one final wave in your direction.

Author’s Note: The party was honestly pretty built around the “think fast” scene. Once that idea came to mind it refused to leave. The Bakugo stuff well 👀 what can I say I like ✨drama✨ also I felt a little bad that Bird Boy stole the fic I was gonna write for Bakugo from him. Originally I was gonna have Hawks’ jealousy be unfounded but then I saw an opportunity and decided to run with it oops

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @the-adzukibean @a-fucking-sero-kinnie @ladyzayismultifandom

#hopelessoa #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks smau

[blazedbakugou]

a fake smile is still a smile

In which it’s the same old story, only this time it’s told from your perspective, heartbreaks and forced smiles included.

a/n: this is part three to my Bakugou mini series, it takes place after part one and before part two. I don’t know if there will be more parts after this so for now I’m going to say that this is the final part.

read part one & two

genre: angst with like one fluffy scene

warnings: more angst but I threw in some fluff this time

word count: 2.1k

pairing(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

figures - jessie reyez

The past week had been rough. You had been left a confused and emotional mess after Bakugou’s temper tantrum at the party. It was humiliating to have to go through that in front of all your friends, so you figured it would be best if you asked Mina to take you home. You hardly left your apartment during that week, only getting out of bed if you were expected to show up at work that day because the bills had to get paid somehow. It was an endless cycle of working 9-5 shifts, eating whatever take-out leftovers were left from the previous night, and laying in bed feeling absolutely miserable.

You hated that you felt this way, especially over something so stupid. Your friends did their best to show that they were worried about you, but their texts went unanswered and calls were sent straight to voicemail. The kind gestures were appreciated, truly they were. You just weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone and waste more energy pretending to be fine, the past few years of doing so had drained you more than you cared to admit.

Five years you had spent covering up your true feelings for the blonde pro-hero. Five years of holding your tongue and instead offering a stupid smile. Five miserable years of wearing a lousy mask that slowly chipped away at you from the inside until you were nothing more than an empty soul. Five years had passed since the day you fell in love with Bakugou and even then, you never forgot a single detail of how it happened.

- - -

The crisp autumn air left a dull sting on your face as you walked alongside your best friend, pink petals raining down and landing in clusters on the park’s grass. Fifteen minutes ago you would have welcomed the sensation gladly, but now that the sun was starting to set and its warmth had been replaced with a chilly breeze— you were starting to regret not bringing a sweater. You folded your arms across your chest and tucked your hands safely under your upper arms in an attempt to preserve whatever warmth you had left.

“Hey, dumbass. Did ya really forget to bring a sweater? Tch should’ve known you’d pull something this stupid.” Bakugou scoffed, glancing at you through his peripheral vision.

You frowned, “Didn’t know it was gonna get this cold… but I’ll be fine, besides we’re not too far from home so I can suck it up ‘til then.”

“You really think I’m going to let you run the risk of getting sick? Maybe the cold is already getting to you, usually, you’re not this slow.”

To outsiders, this would’ve come off as offensive and rightfully so. Except you were no outsider for you were able to recognize the hidden demonstration of compassion through the way he was already shrugging off his jacket. The blonde wordlessly handed it to you, though it was more of a gentle shove, and waited for you to put it on.

“I said I was fine,” you sighed but accepted the jacket nonetheless, “but what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You must be cold too, right?”

He looked at you for a moment with an indecipherable expression before replying, “you don’t have to worry about me, dumbass. I only gave it to you because I can’t have my training partner getting sick. I run hot anyway.”

“If you say so, Katsu. Thank you though, I appreciate it.” You smiled at him as you slipped your arms through the sleeves.

“Yeah, yeah whatever you say.” Bakugou jabbed his elbow into your side, the corner of his mouth turned up into what could’ve possibly qualified as the world’s slightest smile.

A comfortable silence filled the gap between you, the rustling of leaves and your synced footsteps created the perfect harmony. The end of your first year at UA was quickly approaching for both of you, also marking an entire year of knowing each other. It was funny to think about how only a year after passing the entrance exams, you’d somehow managed to end up wearing his jacket which he had willingly given up. The same jacket which enveloped you in the most comforting scent in existence, it mostly smelled like Bakugou with a slight hint of something else that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. The question lingered on your mind as you thought hard about what it could be.

“Caramel apples!” you gasped.

“What’re ya talking about, dumbass?”

A small wave of embarrassment washed over you at the realization that he’d heard you, “nothing…”

The blonde merely huffed in response, shoving his hands into his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the way the scene painted before you looked so pretty; the orange and pink hues in the sky, the golden rays of sunshine casting down on him, the cherry blossom petals fluttering around. It was a breathtaking moment truly, so without a second thought, you took out your phone to try and capture it. As observant as your best friend was, he noticed the lack of footfalls and stopped to turn around as well.

“Hey! Why’d you stop-” his sentence was cut short by the sound of the camera going off.

You simply showed him the picture, letting him see the art for himself. It had captured everything you hoped it would, your smiling face in the bottom left corner with the added bonus of his confused expression not too far in the distance. You took his scoff as a sign that he was done looking at the picture and shut off your phone before slipping it back into your pocket.

“What was that for?”

“I just thought you looked pretty.” You replied.

It was the honest truth. You were aware that your best friend was attractive, but it wasn’t until that moment had you realized just how beautiful he was in your eyes. The sun continued to cast down on him as if it was the universe’s way of letting you know that it agreed with you. It was amazing what wonders the right lighting could do in any given situation, in your case it had helped you realize that you were in love with the one and only, Katsuki Bakugou.

“Sh-shut up! You’re not supposed to call me that.” He grumbled.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, “whatever you say, Katsu.”

The rest of the walk home was a quiet one, though not awkward by any means. You took it as an opportunity to gather your thoughts on this big revelation you had just stumbled upon. Everyone always complained about how love was hard and scary which you found silly because, in your opinion, there was nothing difficult or terrifying about it. Love, in your opinion, was a beautiful thing, and who better to experience it with than with your own best friend?

“We’re here.” Bakugou’s gruff voice shook you from your thoughts and caused you to blink in surprise as you took in the view of your front door.

Now that he had walked you back home, you knew it was time to return his jacket. So with a reluctant sigh, you shrugged it off and began to hand it back to him until a better idea had crossed your mind. By some miracle, you had been gifted enough courage to hang the jacket over his shoulders, keeping your arms around his neck for perhaps a moment too long. The gap between you was so small that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body. The blonde looked confused to be in such a compromising position, his carmine eyes shifting between glancing at your lips then back up to your eyes.

It would be so easy to just lean in and press your lips against his, especially because rare would be the chance you’d get to have him this close again. Part of you was screaming to just go for it and take the leap, but another part of you was aware that by taking that leap you would then risk ruining what you felt to be an amazing friendship. The responsible side of you won but before you could step back on your own, Bakugou had ripped your hands off him and taken two steps back.

“See ya at school tomorrow.”

You disguised the pain you felt in your chest with a small chuckle, “yeah, see you then…”

And like promised, you saw each other at school the very next day. Training went on as usual, though admittedly you pushed yourself harder than you normally did. You still joked around with your friends at lunch, though you opted for sitting across from Bakugou instead of your usual spot beside him. He walked you home from school just like he always did, though this time around you refused his offer to study at his house. Deep down you knew that he had taken note of the sudden changes in your behavior, so it disappointed you to see that he didn’t bother asking you about it.

The next few weeks were merely repeats of the same routine until eventually, you learned to move past your grievances. It got easier to breathe around him without feeling like you were suffocating, easier to distract yourself whenever you found yourself thinking about him for too long, easier to pretend everything was fine. Of course, the pain never went away. It dulled until it was nothing more than a subtle ache in the depths of your heart, an ache you had grown to live with. After that fateful day, you walked around with a smile only half as bright as it once was.

- - -

Suddenly the picture frame in your hand felt too heavy to hold as if all the bottled-up emotions from throughout the years had been condensed into the ink on the page. You let it fall onto the bed with a small thud, letting yourself fall back into the pillows behind you. The image of the ceiling above your bed was now ingrained into your head, you’d spend a lot of time staring at it during the week.

A bitter chuckle made its way past your lips, the hoarseness in your voice causing you to wince. When was the last time you had uttered a word? You had no idea. What you did know was that you were quite possibly driving yourself mad by repeating the same vicious cycle of self-pity, helplessness, and isolation. Your period of sadness had ended, now transitioning into one of anger and feelings of betrayal.

Oh, how you wished you could take even an ounce of the pain you were feeling and pass it on to Bakugou. You could only imagine how good it would make you feel to see him miserable. However, as upset as you were with the blonde for putting you through such agonizing misery, you’d never wish such things upon him. You were not that kind of person and he was certainly the last person you’d mistreat. Though that didn’t stop you from coming up with a hundred and one petty thoughts.

Bakugou was always calling you a dumbass but maybe he was the stupid one all along. Couldn’t he see how deeply in love with him you were? Wasn’t it painfully obvious to him just how well you’d treat him? Did he not realize how fortunate he was to have you stick by his side after all these years despite your broken heart? Perhaps he’d only realize how good he truly had it with you until you finally decided to up and leave. Maybe once you were out of his life for good then would he understand just how badly he’d fucked up.

You should’ve known that you were only leading yourself on, convinced that if you tried hard enough then you could get him to fall in love with you. Your naïveté was almost humorous. Oh, how foolish you were for believing that there was any chance at all that Bakugou felt the same way. Love was nothing but a losing game. You didn’t understand it back when you were a kid, but now the message had never been clearer.

Deciding to take a step towards a more positive mindset, you got out of bed and slipped on the first pair of shoes you spotted. It was with a heavy sigh that you picked up the picture frame once again to return it to its rightful place above the chimney. The weather outside seemed cheery enough to lift your spirits, so you opted to go for a walk at the nearby park. Making your way to the front door, you grabbed the handle and tugged on it only to find out that standing on the other side of it was the last person you wanted to see.

Your stupid idiot of a best friend.

masterlist // taglist open // requests open

@combat-wombatus @sunflowersuki

#bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #bakugou imagine #bakugo fluff #bakugo angst #bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugou angst #katsuki bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo angst #my writings

[itspillowtime]

Do you have any teaser for your fics to share? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Hello Anon! I’m very late but if you’re reading this, thank you for waiting patiently. Life has been a tad hectic as of late but I’m hoping things return to normal soon.

Anyway, here you go. Enjoy! :D

Note: Chapstick, My Best Friend’s Little Sister, and Pleasure Lessons are all ongoing IR fics, and some of the snippets below contain suggestive or mature themes. Edit: the E rating stands for “explicit,” not “everyone” xD

Chapstick (rated M for future scenes)

Making his way past patrons and tables to exit the coffee shop, he stopped outside the large cafe windows, bringing his phone up to his ear so he could hear her better.

“Hey, midget. What’s up?”

He could practically hear her glaring at him through the phone, her irritation making him smirk. “Nothing, you jerk. We’re about to head over to the theater but Renji had to take a call, so I figured I’d make one as well.”

“Everything going okay so far?”

Rukia sighed. “Yeah. We haven’t talked about it yet, but I’m planning to after the movie.”

“That’s good. Don’t get too stressed about it while you’re watching the movie.”

“I’ll try,” she promised. “Are you writing today?”

She knew him well; “Yeah, I’m at the Tully’s by my place. Gonna try to get some done but some guy was being an asshole, picking on this girl.”

He heard her tsk through the phone. “That’s not good. Did you break it up?”

“Yeah, she was pretty freaked out but he left eventually. So now I’m just waiting for my drink, which they insisted on giving me for free even though I didn’t do much.”

“I’m sure you’re her hero,” Rukia teased, and he knew she was wiggling her brows at him on the other end. “Maybe you’ll be on a date soon too, hmm?”

“Right,” he said dryly, “I highly doubt that considering she looked like she was about to faint just looking at my face.”

“Told you your face is scary as hell!”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “You obviously like seeing it all the time.”

He could hear the smirk in her voice; “I don’t like it, fool, I’ve just developed a high tolerance for it. The way some people have built a tolerance for arsenic.” She snickered on the other end and he scowled, despite her being unable to see him.

My Best Friend’s Little Sister (rated E)

As she scooted a bit closer to me on the bench to add some to my plate, her thigh connected with mine under the table. I jumped a bit at the sudden contact, my knee nearly hitting the table when I felt her soft leg pressing against mine.

I caught myself just in time—I’d almost moved away but that would’ve been weirder; it’s not like we were in elementary school anymore and I was some kid afraid of cooties.

Not to mention if I were being honest, the very last thing I wanted to do at that moment was move away from her warmth and the sweet scent of her skin.

If only Renji weren’t sitting right across from us.

I could feel myself starting to grow hard again in my pants—fuck, this was becoming a problem—at how close she was, her arm extended in front of me barely a couple inches away as she leaned over me. The neck of her sweater had slid off her shoulder at some point, exposing her bare skin to my gaze.

I was unable to resist, my eyes darting down to roam over the small curve of her breast beneath her thin top, reminding me of her silhouette I’d seen outside the tent...

Her thigh pressed even more firmly into mine as she started peppering the far side of my bowl, making sure it was distributed evenly. I was nearly fully hard now and jerked away in panic; if she got any closer her leg would practically be draped over mine and she would definitely feel it.

Then—for the briefest moment—I felt her calf rub slightly up and down against mine.

Oh.

Fuck.

Pleasure Lessons (rated E for future scenes)

She took a step away from him as he continued to come toward her.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” she denied again hotly.

“Oh no? It looked like you were enjoying yourself...unless I was mistaken?” he laughed, his bright eyes boring into hers. “That was pretty amazing, Kuchiki. Never would’ve thought our class rep was so wild.” He continued walking her away from the desk until her back was pressed against the wall, the cold glass of the window piercing through her thin shirt and making her shiver. “But I guess even the class rep needs to blow off steam once in a while, huh?”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” she whispered, both unable and afraid to look away from him.

She watched as his lips drew into a lazy smirk. “Hmm,” he drawled, looking amused. “That depends. What do I get out of it if I don’t?”

At that, her expression hardened into one he was more used to seeing on her, making his grin widen. “Don’t think you can try to blackmail me.”

“Blackmail?” he chuckled. “You think I’m that kind of guy?”

“I know you are!”

“Oh you do, do you?” He lowered his face close to hers and she flinched at the sudden proximity. “I’m flattered, didn’t realize the class rep was paying so much attention to me. Tell me, what else do you know about me?”

“That you’re always getting into fights,” she spat at him. “And you don’t care about any of our school rules.”

The edge of his mouth quirked up at that. “Oh, but rules are more fun to break than follow,” he murmured, his canines glinting soft and dangerous in the glow of the setting sun. “Don’t you agree?”

#ichiruki #snippets #ty for the ask anon! #and sorry again for being very late #after ir week i'm getting back to work on these #pillow's fics

[averykedavra]

A Heart I Couldn’t Silence

Hi everyone! This is late. Very, very late. But I’m doing my best to catch up with these prompts, so here’s a quicker one out of order for day five! It’s cliche to use Virgil for this prompt, but it’s a good cliche, and you can fight me. I’m in it for the cliched fluffy nonsense, okay? Okay. Glad we had this talk.

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Title is from Feel Good by Gryffin and Illenium. Find this story on Ao3 here!)

Prompt: Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience
.

Pairing: QPR Moxiety

Words: 7278

Warnings: self-hatred, crying, repression, and other unhealthy coping mechanisms like isolation, anxiety attack, food mention, a lil bit of an identity crisis

Patton feels bad for his soulmate.

He’s never met the guy, gal, or non binary pal, of course. But he knows he has one. He knows implicitly, he feels it, and also the random bursts of anxiety kind of point in that direction, too. His soulmate is anxious. His soulmate doesn’t sleep well because sometimes Patton wakes up to a racing heart and sweaty palms. His soulmate always feels relief at the end of the day, and Patton looks forward to that little bubble of happiness. Good for his soulmate, he always thinks. They’ve made it. Patton’s proud of them.

So yeah. He knows he has a soulmate. And he can always tell which emotions aren’t his own, because they come with little tingly edges. Like lightning zapping his fingers. Sometimes it’s scary or just annoying. Sometimes, when his soulmate is happy—which isn’t as often as Patton would like—it’s intoxicating, a rush of joy that makes Patton want to squeal.

Patton likes having a soulmate.

He’s pretty sure his soulmate doesn’t feel the same way, though.

See, Patton cries a lot.

Patton cries when a movie makes him happy. Patton cries when a movie makes him sad. Patton cries when he sees a really cute puppy. Patton cries when he fails a test. Patton cries when someone else is crying. Patton cries over everything—he has, literally, cried over spilled milk. It looked really sad sitting on the floor like that, and Patton also knew he had to clean it up, and it was a waste of milk, and before he knew it he was sniffling.

Patton cries over everything. Patton also, sometimes, cries over nothing at all. He just sits on the couch and his eyes prickle and he starts bawling, curling up and pressing his hands to his mouth and crying over nothing like a baby.

He just cries sometimes. He just gets upset sometimes and he’s learned to deal with that. Kind of. Maybe.

Not really, if he’s being honest.

But it’s fine! He’s happy the rest of the time, so it doesn’t really matter that sometimes he starts sobbing randomly at two in the morning. Maybe it’s repression. Maybe it’s being a teenager. Maybe it’s just the way Patton works. And honestly, he’s mostly okay with it. He’d much rather feel terrible for little moments of time than feel vaguely bad almost all the time. Not like he gets a choice—he can’t control how he feels.

Patton’s fine.

He’s worried his soulmate isn’t, though.

His soulmate, who can feel all his strongest emotions, good and bad.

God, his soulmate must think he’s a mess.

He’s not a mess. Mostly. Is he?

He’s tried very hard not to be. Or at least, to make it look like he’s not. Patton doesn’t like to lie, but this isn’t lying, it’s just…obscuring the truth? Ugh, wow, that sounds really bad.

It’s keeping private stuff private. It’s staying perky for his friends, because they need an anchor, someone to rely on. Patton is the happy one. The helpful one. And if he’s not helpful--if he doesn’t earn his keep--they won’t keep him around.

He hates that he thinks this. His friends are such wonderful people--he knows that, they’re amazing, they’re so kind and intelligent and fantastic--but he’s still scared, because he can’t possibly measure up, he can’t be as good as they are and the moment he slips up they’ll all see it. Everything will crumble and it’ll be all his fault.

They’ll see that he tries. They’ll see that he’s failed. And he won’t blame them for leaving him behind.

Maybe it’s not true. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s just another thing that his brain thinks up to make him cry but maybe it’s not. And can Patton take the risk?

Sometimes, he thinks he can.

Most of the time? No.

No, he’s just going to stay quiet, grin and bear it, keep everything from crumbling. His friends struggle. They fumble. They stumble through high school and they’re doing so great and it’ll just make them feel bad if Patton tells them. They don’t deserve another person to worry about.

Not that anything’s worrying, of course.

Patton’s fine.

He’s fine, he has everything handled, and even if he cries too much, he’s gotten good at holding it in until he’s alone.

He’s fine. He has so many good friends. His grades are good. Everything’s perfect and he’s not perfect but he’s good at pretending to be.

And he cries sometimes, but who doesn’t?

The only person who might be able to tell is his soulmate.

But Patton hasn’t met them yet, so it’s fine.

Everything’s completely fine.

---

“Everything is shit,” Virgil complains, collapsing into his chair and tossing his stuff on the desk with a thunk.

“Hey, honey, no!” Patton frowns. “What happened?”

“I just said. Everything.”

“Well, be more specific, then.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, and Patton can see a smirk already growing. Good, Virgil is relaxing. 

“I’m pretty sure I bombed my test for earth systems,” Virgil grumbles. “I hate that whole class. Like, I don’t need to know earth systems. The earth is round and green and full of terrifying creatures. Why does it matter how it got born?”

Patton smiles and pats Virgil’s head. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“You didn’t see the questions.” Virgil slumps over and drapes himself across Patton’s shoulder. It’s an awkward position. Patton’s a foot or so away, sitting at his own desk. But Patton just shifts and lets Virgil curl up next to him like a hoodied ball. Virgil’s head lolls on Patton’s shoulder. Patton stares for maybe a little longer than he should at the bridge of Virgil’s nose, the dye at the edges of his hair, the little ring in his lip. “I’m doomed.”

“Come on, be optimistic.” Patton knows Virgil takes to optimism like a dragon takes to embroidery, but practice makes progress! “You can’t know until you get the results back.”

“Yeah, I can,” Virgil mumbles. “I feel it. In my soul.”

“Is your soul lying to you?”

“How dare you. My soul is pure and untarnished.”

“Oh, really?” Patton shakes his head. “Might need to have some proof of that, mister.”

“You’re insulting my soul.” Virgil sits upright, thumping his chest. "Look at it. It’s wonderful.”

“I can’t see it,” Patton says.

“Look closer.” Virgil leans over intently. “It’s black, you know. But that doesn’t mean it’s a liar.”

Patton giggles. “So your soul is evil and black and emo but doesn’t lie?”

“My soul has standards.”

“I’m sure it does.” Patton smiles at Virgil. “But I don’t think it’s your soul that’s saying you failed the test.”

“My heart, then.” Virgil thumps his heart. “My old, blackened heart, shriveled yet still speaking the truth--and the truth is that I fucked up, Pat.”

“You did not!” Patton folds his arms. “You know what I think? I think it isn’t your heart or soul that’s telling you that.”

“Then what?” Virgil asks. He’s smiling. Good job, Patton, you did it!

“I think it’s a meanie little bit of brain.” Patton pokes at Virgil’s head. Virgil swats his hand away halfheartedly. “And it’s wrong. You did great, because you’re you--and even if you didn’t, we can’t do anything about it now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Virgil shifts. “Um, thanks, Pat.”

“No problem!” Patton grins. “What are best friends for?”

“They’re for being quiet,” Janus calls from a few desks behind them. “Class is starting, guys.”

Virgil squeaks and flushes. Patton feels a pit of anxiety in his own stomach, which is odd, until he realizes it’s his soulmate. They must be nervous about something. He hopes they’re okay--and sure enough, as the lesson starts, the anxiety fades from his heart.

His soul.

Patton peeks at Virgil, who is drumming a pencil on his desk. Virgil catches his eye and smiles just a bit. Patton smiles back.

He wonders who Virgil’s soulmate is. Virgil doesn’t talk about his much, unlike Janus and Roman. He’s mentioned once or twice that his soulmate is really emotional.

People have trouble, sometimes, telling who their soulmate is. Because emotions are weird and complicated and sometimes people can fake them or they just come off different. So some people go through life never being sure of their soulmate, knowing maybe this person happens to have some similar feelings but it could be a coincidence, who knows.

Other people? They say they knew instantly. They felt it, the moment they met.

Patton hasn’t felt it with anyone. Which is good. Because he doesn’t really want to meet his soulmate all that much.

He hopes Virgil finds his.

He deserves it.

Patton sighs a bit, turns away, and feels a little thrum of happiness in his stomach. His soulmate is happy, relieved about something. Comfortable.

Patton wishes he was the same way.

But good for them.

---

Patton’s headed to math when Virgil accosts him in the hallway. Well, accosts is a strong word. But also kind of accurate. Virgil grabs his arm and pulls him into an empty classroom with no more than a hello.

Patton’s already had a bit of a rough day. He ran out of cereal this morning and cried about it, and his soulmate is really anxious right now which is making all his nerves crawl and screech and flail about. So he hates to admit it, but he really hopes this will be quick.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says slowly. “What’s up?”

Virgil barely responds. He’s hopped up onto a desk and now he’s tucking his legs to his chest. His knuckles are white on his hoodie.

Okay. Yeah. This...seems like a bad sign.

Patton swallows down the torrent of emotions in his gut and walks closer.

“Virgil,” he says softly, “hey.”

Virgil bites his lip, grabs at his binder, and shoves a paper into Patton’s hands. Patton reads it.

It’s Virgil’s earth systems test from last week.

The number circled in red is a very low number. And the letter next to it is a large spiky F.

“Oh, sweetie,” Patton says, looking up.

“I fucking knew it.” Virgil’s voice is tight. He’s not looking at Patton. He’s looking at the ground like he wants to stab it. “I fucking knew I’d screw it up, I didn’t study, I don’t know shit and now I’m going to fail--”

“Hey. Hey. Easy.” Patton reaches over to Virgil and stops himself. “Can I touch you?”

Virgil shakes his head.

“Okay. That’s okay. Thanks for telling me, honey.”

Virgil’s curling even tighter into himself. And the anxiety in Patton’s stomach is ratcheting up a level or seven, tightening like a winch.

Of course his soulmate is anxious the moment Patton needs to comfort his best friend. Of course.

Patton pushes it down like he always does. He sits cross-legged beneath Virgil, who is practically a ball of hoodie at this point, and gives him an encouraging smile. He can’t tell if Virgil sees it. Virgil’s face is hidden in his arms. He’s shaking.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

Patton can do this.

No matter that his insides feel like he’s being squeezed and pressed into a pulp. This is fine. He can pull it together and help his best friend.

“Breathe,” he says, trying to keep his own voice steady. “In and out, Virgil, okay?”

Virgil takes a breath so huge and raspy Patton can almost feel it. His stomach flips once, twice, three times.

He starts tapping a four-seven-eight rhythm on the ground. For both of them. Because his soulmate is panicking and Virgil is panicking and Patton is going to panic too if he's not careful.

He pushes it down.

He always, always pushes it down. Because Virgil comes first.

“Breathe,” he tells Virgil. “In and out.”

Virgil breathes.

Virgil is so, so good like that.

“Keep breathing, you’re doing great.” Patton pauses. “Want me to talk? You don’t have to listen, just keep breathing. Okay?”

Virgil gives him a short nod.

“So,” Patton starts, “I saw the cutest puppy the other day! And since it wasn’t a cat, I could pet it! I got to pet it, and it jumped up and licked my face--really energetic--I love dogs, you know that, and it was just really nice and I felt all happy inside and I want a dog--”

He’s rambling.

He’s rambling and he hopes Virgil doesn’t notice or care, because words are hard to string together when his hear is still hammering. He wishes he could calm his soulmate down, too.

He’s rambling and he hopes against hope that Virgil’s feeling better.

“--and I really think a movie night would be fun, if Roman doesn’t hog all the popcorn again, we could finally watch Brave because I missed it when it came out and I’ve been wanting to see it--”

Virgil’s still breathing. He’s uncurling, bit by bit. Patton catches a flash of dark eyes and almost beams.

“--movie nights are just the best! We should plan one, maybe!” Patton glances at Virgil. “I’d certainly love it--it’d be a reel treat to film my days with your company!”

And Virgil snorts, just a bit.

Patton smiles to himself. There he is.

“You’re breathing?” he asks Virgil.

“Yeah,” Virgil manages.

“Is touching okay?”

“Yeah.”

Patton gets up slowly and scooches next to Virgil. They barely fit on the desk but he balances on the edge and manages to stay on top. He places a hand on Virgil’s, and Virgil leans into him, sighing a bit.

He’s less anxious. And, weirdly, so is Patton--his soulmate has calmed down a bit, too. Patton smiles. He threads an arm around Virgil and sits there, feeling Virgil’s chest expand against his own. He imagines he can feel Virgil’s soul, flickering and dark but never lying, pressed up next to him.

His soulmate is calm. Virgil is calm. And Patton’s calm too.

Everything’s calm.

Of course, that’s when the alarm rings. Virgil shrieks and flails about, and Patton’s own chest sparks with panic, because apparently his soulmate has just been startled, but they’re calming down and Virgil’s calming down and it’s okay now--

Wait.

Wait.

Virgil is calming down. Patton’s soulmate is calming down. Both had been really anxious recently and now both are okay but both got startled suddenly and both--

Both--

Patton’s staring. He’s staring at Virgil, his best friend, who he’s known for a year and a half ever since Virgil switched to their school. He knows Virgil’s favorite color--purple. He knows Virgil’s favorite band--Evanescence. He knows Virgil’s favorite food--potato chips. He knows Virgil’s schedule, he knows Virgil’s middle name, he knows Virgil’s house almost as well as he knows his own.

He knows Virgil, but suddenly, he feels like maybe he hasn’t known Virgil at all.

“Hey,” Patton says. He hopes his blind panic doesn’t leak into his voice. “Did I tell you? I got an A on my art assignment!”

“Really?” Virgil grins at him. “That’s great, Pat.”

And a flash of pride flickers through Patton’s chest, lightning in his heart.

“We should hurry up,” he tries, “we’re bound to be late.”

Virgil groans. “Oh, shit, you’re right.”

Panic. Annoyance. The pride fades and is replaced by...guilt?

“Sorry,” Virgil says only a second later. “I made you late, I--that wasn’t cool.”

“What? No, it’s fine!” Patton reaches out and squeezes Virgil’s hand. “I don’t mind, okay, honey? Talk to me anytime you need.”

“Thanks,” Virgil says, the gratitude clear in his voice. “You’re the best, Pat.”

Thankfulness, care, love, a soup in Patton’s stomach, making him feel dizzy.

Patton’s discomfort must show on his face, because Virgil frowns. “You okay?”

“Of course,” Patton forces out, shoving down the maelstrom of emotions in his mind. “I--my soulmate’s really going through the feelings right now, is all.”

“Oh," Virgil says, nodding. “Got it.”

“What’s your soulmate like?” Patton asks hesitantly as they walk toward the hallway together.

“Hard to tell.” Virgil pauses at the doorway and gives Patton a little salute. “They’re sad a lot, though.”

“Oh,” Patton manages, and then he starts walking down the hallway without even saying goodbye.

---

This isn’t a big deal.

Virgil is Patton’s best friend. Virgil, unless he’s lying to Patton--and why would he?--doesn’t know Patton’s his soulmate. Patton might have a bit of a squish on Virgil, and this is confirmation that they’re meant to be together. He could tell Virgil and they could be happy. Or he could not tell Virgil, and they could still be happy.

Either way, it’s not a big deal.

So why is Patton standing in the lobby and trying not to cry?

He’d managed to get through ten minutes of math. Then he grabbed a bathroom pass and wandered through the hallways until he ended up here. He’s next to the display case and the theater where Roman always practices--he reads a few plaques on the cups and trophies but he doesn’t recognize any of the names. Every time he moves, his shoes ring out against the endless stone floor.

He’s missing math class. He should care more about that, and he will, when he’s struggling to catch up later. Right now, though, all he can think of is Virgil.

Virgil, who he jokes with in every class they have together. Virgil, who sits with him at lunch and trades his chips for one of Patton’s cookies. Virgil, who’s quiet and snarky and talks bad about himself too much and is just so wonderful and sweet and amazing and--Patton’s soulmate.

Patton’s met his soulmate, and he hadn’t even realized.

Because it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care that Virgil’s his soulmate. It doesn’t change anything.

Ugh.

Patton leans forward and presses his head against the cool glass of the trophy case.

It should make him feel better that his soulmate isn’t a stranger, that they’re compatible, that they’re friends. He’s always felt terrible for his soulmate. It should make him feel better that his soulmate seems to like him despite everything.

Except it doesn’t. Except Patton feels like he wants to sink into the glass case and disappear.

Footsteps behind him. Patton jerks upright and sees someone walking down the hallway towards him. He glances around for an escape. The door to the theater is cracked open.

Patton slips inside.

It’s a big theater, just got renovated last year. The lights are all off. The chairs are clustered together in the darkness and Patton does his best to avoid them, walking down one of the aisles and heading to the stage.

He’s been here a million times. Roman is a theater kid, and so is Janus, and Virgil--

Virgil helps with props.

Virgil helps with props, and he’s annoyed at Roman for always messing with the organization, and one time he spilled paint on the stage and he still feels guilty about it. Virgil loves raising the curtains. Virgil freaked out when the orchestra pit first opened because he was afraid he would fall. Virgil wrote his name in the corner of one of the seats during a three-hour-long assembly. Virgil helped fold up the programs.

Patton knows everything about Virgil.

How much does Virgil know about him?

How much is there for Virgil to know?

Patton isn’t a person. He’s a collection of smiles and words he’s crafted to make other people feel better. He’s a facade. And what’s under there? Who is he, underneath all the stuff he does for other people?

He doesn’t know. Not really.

How can he be someone’s soulmate if he can’t feel his own soul?

Patton touches a hand to his chest and imagines it. He pictures a butterfly with wings of light, fluttering around his heart, caged but tied to Virgil’s soul with a shimmering thread. Two halves of a whole, although that’s a kinda outdated phrase. It’s not about making your soulmate complete, it’s about being there for them and helping them be better.

Patton wants to feel better. But he doesn’t know how.

And what is ‘better’ anyway? What is happy? He knows how to act happy, and he thinks he is happy sometimes, but does he know? If he’s happy, why does he cry so much?

Why is he crying?

Patton swipes at his face. Tears smear on his favorite blue shirt. He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

All the lights are off in the theatre. Patton climbs onto the stage and sits on the edge. His legs dangle off, and even though his feet are only a few inches from the ground, he feels like he’s floating.

The wood is smooth under his hands and hard enough to almost hurt. Patton looks up at the ceiling and counts the stage lights, all turned off, aimed different directions and bubbled like melted glass. The curtain sits behind him, dusty and crimson and worn in places.

The seats fan out around him, like an audience.

Patton curls his hands around the edge of the stage and takes another deep breath.

Virgil always sits right there. They went to one of Roman’s performances together, the night Virgil had off, and Virgil bought Patton some snacks so they shared them as they whispered to each other and laughed at the not-very-funny jokes. Virgil left his hand on the arm of his chair and Patton grabbed it under the guise of being afraid of the sudden blasts of music. Virgil didn’t seem to mind. And it was platonic, of course it was, and Patton was disappointed in that, but in the moment he couldn’t imagine anything better--his face was on fire and the lights shone before them and Virgil was inches away.

The lights are off now. Patton is sitting on an empty stage, and he’s going to miss the rest of math class if he’s not careful.

He’s left tears on the wood.

Virgil.

Patton is alone, and Patton is scared, and Virgil can probably feel it, can’t he, and he doesn’t know who Patton is now but soon he’ll find out and he’ll pity Patton, or get worried, or leave him behind--

Who says he has to find out?

They’re sad a lot.

Patton isn’t sad a lot. At least, Virgil doesn’t think he is. So why would Virgil think Patton’s his soulmate? If Virgil hasn’t figured it out by now, what would change?

You found out today, says a nasty voice in the back of his mind. Why can’t he?

Be quiet, Patton tells it.

Virgil won’t find out.

Virgil won’t find out and everything will be fine.

So: game plan. Go back to math class. Continue life as normal. And just don’t tell Virgil, best friend and squish, that they’re soulmates.

Perfect. Patton can absolutely do this.

---

Patton absolutely can’t do this.

Okay, the thing is, he’s a terrible liar. Like, really bad. Like, tried-to-throw-a-surprise-party-and-blurted-out-the-secret-on-day-two bad. Every time he’s supposed to not mention something, it suddenly becomes the only thing he can think about.

So every time Patton sees Virgil, he immediately starts thinking about the fact that they’re soulmates and Patton can’t tell him and Patton is a terrible friend and he shouldn’t be thinking about them being soulmates and they’re soulmates.

Which means every time Patton sees Virgil, he panics.

Virgil’s catching on. Patton usually manages to recover himself after a few seconds, but he also ends up leaving, cutting the conversation short to spare himself the chance of messing things up. Virgil can tell. Virgil’s worried. Virgil’s a good friend like that.

Virgil’s a good friend who’s his soulmate and Patton can’t tell him--

Well, Patton could. Then he’d have to deal with the pain of his best friend leaving him.

So yeah. Not really an option.

"Hey,” Virgil says during lunch. “You okay? You’ve been...kind of distant lately?”

“I’m fine,” Patton says. “Just tired.”

“Hey,” Virgil says after school. “Wanna hang out later?”

“No thanks,” Patton says. “I’ve got a lot of homework.”

“We could do it together?”

“I’m really busy.” Patton gives him a smile. “Next time.”

“Ugh, I hate earth systems,” Virgil complains as he falls into the chair next to Patton. Patton gives him a sympathetic smile, swallows, and looks way.

“Chips for cookies?” Virgil asks during lunch.

“Of course,” Patton says, handing Virgil a cookie and getting a bag of chips in return. He doesn’t even like cookies, but it’s a good excuse to share his cookies with Virgil. He bakes them every weekend. Virgil likes chocolate chip. Patton draws little hearts in icing sometimes.

“So,” Virgil says, biting into the cookie and groaning, “how was class?”

“Good,” Patton says, and he pushes the chips into his lunch box and doesn’t eat them.

“Did I...” Virgil’s hesitant, drumming his fingers on his backpack. “Did I do something? Are you mad at me?”

Patton stares at him in horror for a few seconds. “No!” he finally blurts out, but he can’t think of how to elaborate, and the tears are already welling up--

“I have to go,” he says, and he pushes his way into the crowd and vanishes.

Virgil’s worried. Virgil has a right to be. Virgil is so good and cares so much and of course he’s upset that Patton’s suddenly distancing himself, of course he’s trying to help--

And Patton wishes he could stop. He really, really wishes he could. But that means he has to be around Virgil more, and explain what happened, and Virgil will know that Patton’s his soulmate and he’ll know that Patton’s a mess--

Well, maybe he already knows.

It’s getting harder to hide.

Patton can’t focus. School drips around him and everything goes through one ear and out the other. Patton tries to concentrate, he really does, but his mind is all scrambled up like a twisted ball of yarn, and if Patton tugs on one string nothing happens but if he tugs on another the whole thing collapses to threads.

“Is everything okay?” Roman asks one afternoon, giving Patton a searching expression. “Virgil says you’re avoiding him, and he’s really worried about it--”

"I’m fine,” Patton says firmly, as if he can turn a lie to truth through sheer force of will.

And Roman gives him a look.

Roman knows something is wrong.

And now Patton is avoiding his other friends. Patton is signing up for study sessions he doesn’t need so he can get away from the cafeteria and stay after school when they’d usually hang out. Roman invites him to rehearsal. Patton pretends he has to look after his neighbor’s dog. Janus asks him if he wants to go out for ice cream. Patton manufactures a family gathering. Virgil asks him if he’s okay, and Patton lies.

Patton’s lying so much.

He hates himself for it, and he can’t stop.

It’s like...like candy. Like Patton’s starving and little lie-candies are right there and they fill him up quickly and buy him more time. And he knows they’re not healthy, knows he can’t do this forever, but he just needs a little more time, something to tide him out of this one interaction, he’ll fix it later--

He doesn’t know if he can fix this.

Things are very quickly becoming unfixable.

Patton is a mess, and the world is overwhelming, and he almost starts crying in Spanish class because he can’t remember the word for hat, and everyone’s staring at him and he wants to just curl up into a little ball and disappear--

He fakes sick the next day.

He’s lying to his parents now. Great. That’s what good people do--lie to everyone they’ve got left in their corner.

He lies to his parents, and they believe them, because he’s never lied to them before.

He stays home. He watches TV and purposely puts on some of his favorite movies. The ones that always make him cry. And he finds himself dry-eyed, staring at Mufasa’s death scene and unable to feel anything, and the tears just stick in his throat and refuse to budge.

He cries later. He cries when Virgil sends him a text of a cute puppy and tells him to feel better soon. He stares at his screen and cries.

Because Virgil is such a good friend.

Patton doesn’t deserve Virgil as his soulmate.

He doesn’t want to leave Virgil on read, so he quickly writes back “I will.”

No heart emoji. No “thank you.” No nothing, because what is Patton supposed to write, I’m not sick and also I won’t feel better because I’m a terrible person and also your soulmate?

Maybe Virgil can feel Patton’s sadness like a lump in his own stomach. It would be enough to make Patton stop wallowing, if Patton even knew how.

It’s a good day at home. Patton makes himself a croissant for lunch and sleeps through dinner. He ends up scrolling on his phone at three in the morning, trying to find a new TV show to watch. None of them catch his eye so he just watches The Office bloopers again. Not healthy, but who cares? The rest of his life is a mess, why not stay up late?

Saw this and thought of u

It’s Virgil. He sent a cinnamon roll. There’s a little smiley face under it. Virgil always texts with all lower-case, and he shouldn’t be up this late, and it must have been really nerve-wracking for him to send that cinnamon roll.

Because Patton’s a cinnamon roll.

Patton laughs a bit and then he feels like crying.

He leaves Virgil on read. He can’t bring himself to care.

He’s probably messed up everything anyway.

---

Patton knows he can’t pull off being “sick” two days in a row, as much as he’d like to. So he sucks it up and drags himself out of bed. There are huge bags under his eyes and he feels like crap inside and out. Well, at least he has the excuse of having been “sick.”

He figured a day’s break would make him feel better about facing Virgil again.

He was really wrong.

The moment he saw Virgil, eyeshadow and purple jacket and fluffy little bangs, Patton’s heart felt like it had been crushed into a little pile of pieces. He’s been ignoring Virgil’s little zaps of feeling, but now they’re back with a vengeance. Virgil is jittery. He’s worried. And Patton can guess what about.

“Glad you’re back,” he says, and nothing else.

Patton pretends it doesn’t hurt.

He needs to fix this, he tells himself. Maybe he should tell Virgil that they’re soulmates. But what good would that do? Virgil’s upset with him, and for good reason. Patton just distanced himself from everyone out of panic, and now he has no idea how to rebuild those bridges.

He’ll have to explain himself somehow, and he has no idea how.

And why would Virgil even forgive him?

Virgil, who’s barely looked at him, whose knuckles are white on his seat. He flops into his chair and mutters something about earth systems, but it’s not to Patton, and he doesn’t even look Patton’s way.

Patton swallows down the ache.

He doesn’t have an excuse for missing lunch, so he sits at their usual table. He brings a book and pretends he needs to finish it. Nobody bothers him. Roman asks what he’s reading but trails off mid-sentence and leaves him be.

Patton tries to keep all his feelings down when he’s near them, to look okay and feel okay so Virgil feels okay and everything stays above water.

He follows Virgil out of the cafeteria, opens his mouth to call after him, and finds no words.

“What?” Virgil asks, turning around.

Patton just shakes his head.

Virgil looks...disappointed. He nods, though, and turns away.

Patton stands in the hallway and watches his best friend disappear. He wishes, for some stupid reason, that Virgil will turn around. Virgil doesn’t.

Virgil leaves him behind.

And that’s what Patton didn’t want all along, what he tried to prevent, what he lied to prevent--and he’s here anyway, because this is what he knew would happen, and fuck, why can’t he do anything right--

Patton runs.

Patton runs into the bathroom, locks the stall door, and stays there for a very long time.

---

Patton’s messed up.

And he hates it.

And he will do anything to make it right--

Will he?

Can he do this?

He has to.

He doesn’t think he could bear it if he lost Virgil for good.

---

Patton knows Virgil’s schedule by heart. So he slips into the hallway where Virgil passes by, sneaks out, and takes Virgil’s hand. Virgil starts and turns to look at him. Patton feels a storm of emotions batter him and he doesn’t bother trying to parse them.

“Come with me?” Patton asks softly, tugging at Virgil’s hand. “If that’s okay?”

Virgil glances up at the clock. Two minutes until math class. Patton is missing math again. Well. Some things are more important.

Of course, Virgil could easily say no, that he has class and Patton has some nerve to just walk up and ask to talk like nothing happened--

“Okay,” Virgil says. It’s so quick and so simple that Patton almost cries right then and there. But he shakes himself and leads Virgil out of the hallway, back to that empty classroom. He sits on the ground next to a desk. Virgil hops on top of another desk and swings his legs out, watching Patton carefully.

“What’s up?” Virgil finally asks, probably trying to be casual but failing miserably. Patton gives him a small smile for his effort.

“We’re--” The words get stuck. Patton tries again. “I--”

“Hey, you okay?” Virgil slides off the desk and kneels by Patton. “Who am I kidding, of course you’re not, you haven’t been for weeks and I should have fucking checked on you, I’m sorry--”

“No.” Patton shakes his head vehemently, because when in doubt, he can focus on Virgil talking bad about himself. “It’s okay, Virgil. I promise. It was my fault.”

“If you say so.” Virgil drops all the way to the ground. “So. Wanna talk about it?”

Patton presses a hand to his mouth. He’s not supposed to cry yet, he still needs to explain--

But the way Virgil’s looking at him, so soft, as if Patton hasn’t ghosted him for the past week--

“I--” Patton stammers out. “You--we--I’m sorry!”

“Okay.” Virgil nods. “Good start, Pat. Keep going.”

“I’m sorry, I--” Patton waves his hands. “I just left you, and I didn’t explain why, and that must have felt horrible, and I don’t want to stop being friends with you, I really don’t, and I’m so, so sorry--”

“Okay.” Virgil reaches over and takes Patton’s hands in his own. “What happened? Could you tell me that?”

“Do you--” Patton chokes on his own words. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t know.” Virgil gives him a wry little smirk. “Depends on the reason, Pat.”

“O-okay,” Patton says. “I--we--”

“Take your time.” Virgil scoots closer until he’s almost close enough to hug, to lean on, and Patton can’t bring himself to close the gap. “Take your time, Pat, I’m listening.”

“We--” Patton screws his eyes shut. “We’re soulmates.”

Virgil’s hands spasm in his own.

“We’re soulmates,” Patton repeats, as if the words will sound less ugly the second time around.

“We’re what?” Virgil asks. His voice is breathless. Patton opens one eye and sees Virgil staring at him, eyes wide.

“Soulmates,” Patton says a third time. It still sounds wrong to him.

A beautiful, twisted kind of wrong--where it could be right, it could be so right, if Patton wasn’t so close to tears.

“Soulmates,” Virgil echoes.

It sounds better when he says it.

“Yeah, I figured it out--” Patton’s voice breaks. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, c’mon.” Virgil’s gentle reminder is almost an afterthought, though. He looks like Patton’s slapped him. “Soulmates. You’re--you’re sure?”

“Pretty sure. It all matches up.”

Virgil is quiet for a long moment. “My soulmate’s upset.”

Patton nods. “I’m upset.”

“I can tell.” Virgil shifts until he’s next to Patton instead of in front of him. It helps. Patton feels less caged-in now. He leans back against the desk and the cool metal legs dig into his back. “So...why’d that freak you out so much?”

Patton takes a deep, shuddering breath.

Virgil’s fingers tap a familiar rhythm on his palm. Four-seven-eight. Four-seven-eight. Four-seven-eight.

Patton breathes again, and again, and again.

“Because we’re--” Patton swallows. “You know what your soulmate is like. Upset. Sad.”

“Not all the time.”

“Too much.” Patton’s hands curl around Virgil’s. “I--I figured--I try so hard to deal with it, and--”

“Deal with what?” Virgil asks. Something’s flickering across his face and Patton can’t tell what it is.

“Deal with...” Patton searches for words. “Crying?”

“Deal with crying.” Virgil looks upset. Or angry. Patton can’t tell and he could try and figure it out with his soulmate bond, but that feels like cheating, and he’s in no state to parse out Virgil’s emotions from his own. “Deal with crying? Why?”

“‘Cause I’m not supposed to--” Patton swallows. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry?” Virgil repeats like he’s never heard the word in his life.

“You’ve got all your stuff going on,” Patton says, waving a hand at Virgil, “and I don’t wanna add to that, and I thought I could handle it but then you’re my soulmate so you can tell and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to--to pity me or baby me--and I can’t--I can’t be a good friend or a good soulmate if I’m this much of a mess. I can’t be--I can’t be anything!” Patton stares at his lap. “I’m not anything. Not really. So much of me--it’s just not real, honey.”

“Oh.” Virgil sounds absolutely heartbroken. “Oh, Pat.”

Patton sniffs and raises a hand to press away the tears.

“Pat, c’mon, look at me.” Virgil tucks a hand under Patton’s chin and lifts it up. “There we go. Okay?”

Patton stares at Virgil, who’s smiling at him, one hand brushing over Patton’s cheek.

“I’m sorry you felt like that,” Virgil says. “That’s really shitty and you’ve had a rough couple of weeks. But--Pat, being upset once in a while doesn’t mean you’re not you.”

“Me is--someone who you want me to be!” Patton bursts out. “I’m whatever you guys need and now I ruined it and I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh,” Virgil says again, and moves closer. “Pat, no.”

Patton looks at the ground again.

“You help me.” Virgil says it simply. “But--what, do you think you’re only helpful because you’re cheerful or whatever? You’re only helpful because you put aside your own stuff for mine? Do you think--” Virgil pauses. “Do you really think you’ve ruined stuff by making one mistake?”

Patton shudders.

“Come on. C’mere.” Virgil extends his arms. “C’mon, you need a hug. ‘Cause you’re my fucking best friend, that’s why. And my soulmate too. I don’t fucking care if you get upset. Friends help each other, that’s the entire goddamn point.”

Patton looks up.

“C’mere,” Virgil says again. “I wanna make you feel better.”

“I don’t think I can,” Patton admits, and it feels like he’s dredging up something painful inside of him--a thick rock in his chest that’s finally loosening. “I don’t know how.”

“Fine, then, forget the ‘better’ part.” Virgil shrugs. “I wanna let you feel shitty. How about that?”

Patton leans forward, and Virgil meets him halfway.

He curls into Virgil’s chest. He’s never been hugged by Virgil, not like this, and he’s never known how strong Virgil can be. Virgil wraps an arm around his shoulders and runs his other hand down Patton’s side. Almost involuntarily, Patton chokes on a sob.

“I’m gonna cry,” he warns.

“Go ahead.” Virgil’s voice rumbles in Patton’s chest. “Do it as much as you want--I don’t mind.”

Patton’s breath hitches. He tries to hold it in, out of habit, but Virgil’s hand has come up to rest in his hair and Patton has always been an easy crier.

He buries his face in Virgil’s hoodie and sobs.

The bell rings. Neither of them move.

Patton cries until he runs out of tears. Patton cries until the entire front of Virgil’s jacket is wet. He cries until his eyes burn and he feels like he’s been strung out and emptied and carved away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Virgil’s shoulder.

“I forgive you,” Virgil says. “Always, Pat.”

“I don’t--” Patton raises his head and blinks away the last of the tears. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Drink some water?” Virgil laughs. “No clue, Pat, you’ve gotta figure that one out for yourself.”

Patton nods.

“But I’ve got you, okay?” Virgil leans in and wipes at Patton’s eyes. “You’re my friend because I like you--you’re cute and funny and sweet and you make terrible puns and you make the best cookies. You’re not made up of the things you do for others, and your identity isn’t what other people think of you.” Virgil pauses. His eyes are misty. “And if you want to think of it this way--you help me the most by being you. Just you. That’s all I’ve ever needed.”

Patton feels like he might cry again. He settles for a combination squeal-giggle.

“And we’re soulmates.” Virgil blinks a few times. “Holy fuck, we’re soulmates. Holy fuck.”

“Language,” Patton chides, because the swearing is easier to address than the soulmates.

“I mean, I hoped--” Virgil seems to catch himself. “I...did have some--ideas--about who it could be. But I didn’t really--it seemed too much to ask for.”

“You wanted it to be me,” Patton says.

“Yep.” Virgil looks sheepish. “You’re--y’know, you’re the best, Pat.”

“You wanted it to be me.” Patton shakes his head. “You--you want? Me?”

“More than anything.” Virgil leans forward and presses their foreheads together. “Okay?”

“Definitely okay,” Patton manages. “So much more than okay.”

“Thank fucking god.” Virgil snorts. “All this time I’ve been pining away and you were right there--my soulmate--the whole time?”

“Apparently?” Patton grins. “Um, surprise? Your soul chose me?”

Virgil smiles back. “Well, my soul does have standards.”

Patton’s grin melts into something even more soppy and lovesick. He doesn’t mind.

“I--um--” Virgil scratches the back of his neck. “I--you--y’know--”

“I love you,” Patton says. “If...that’s what you were trying to say?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says, looking relieved. “I...I’m better with leaving it an understood thing. But yeah.”

“Understood!” Patton giggles. “We’re...um, we’re late for math?”

Virgil shrugs. “You miss math for me all the time. I’ll miss math for you.”

“Romantic,” Patton teases.

“You know it.” Virgil pulls Patton closer. “I--I never minded, by the way. When you were sad. You were excited other times, and either way--it always felt like you. Sad or happy. It was a little reminder that you were there.”

“You feel like lightning,” Patton says.

“Huh.” Virgil smirks. “That’s cool.”

“It’s all zappy.” Patton wiggles his fingers. “Feels like you’re pushing me farther, like you’re catching fire.”

“Cool,” Virgil says again, and this time it sounds a bit more lovestruck, and Patton is really happy with the idea of hearing that tone forever.

“You’re--you’re different.” Virgil reaches a hand up and hovers it over his chest. “You’re like...rain? No, like, directly after it rains. When all the grass is wet and it smells like rain and the clouds are still there.”

“Really?” Patton asks.

“Yeah. Happy or sad, it was--it was all nice.” Virgil smiles at him. “You’re my soulmate, Pat. Isn’t that cool?”

“Yeah,” Patton agrees, and smiles back, and for once it isn’t forced at all. “It’s amazing.”

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#sanders sides #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fic #averywrites #soulmate september #tw anxiety #okay so this is a bit of a mess and i don't know but here #it came out more angsty than i expected