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kellyurban18 · 1 year

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Chapter Eleven

*Again a sort of filler chapter filled with a bit of plot, but not much. This is just to get the relationship rolling between Harry, Sirius, and Remus. This was a last minute decision to publish together so I rushed through editing so if there are any mistakes let me know.*

It took two days before Harry owled off a copy of his new updated class schedule with only twelve classes and a copy of his NEWT testing schedule to Remus and Sirius, He also sent a copy of those new schedules to James and his Papa with a little note explaining what it was to James because Harry didn’t remember if he told James his schedule would change or not.

The next day they replied that they would be by Friday since neither of them had classes after lunch. Harry was nervous, but he was also excited because this part had always been what he had been most excited for, spending time together even in silence.

Harry didn’t have any classes after one o'clock that Friday, but he did have a NEWT Saturday morning meaning he was excused from the few classes he had that day, but had to do the work during the weekend. The day was the perfect day for inside work which was perfect since Harry completely intended to study his dorm room with Sirius and Remus no matter how awkward or how much they tried to protest. The gloomy day made sure that the library was full and other study spots were taken.

“There you are.” Harry turned surprised, but excited to find his Papa and Uncle Frankie coming up to him.

“Hi, what are you guys doing here?” Harry asked turning to them

“I know you’re busy and you forget the essentials when you’re busy so I bring gifts.” His Papa said holding up a gift basket.

“And I just miss you so I tagged along.” Frankie said pulling Harry into a hug that Harry quickly returned snuggling into his chest a little

“I missed you too.” Harry told him, pulling away and taking the gift basket, “Chocolate, the good kind I see.”

“The expensive kind you mean.” His Papa teased, “Chocolate, bags of different things you like, salty and sweet. Your favorite teas you like to drink when you’re trying to focus on your work, and other stuff you’ll find buried in there. I went a little overboard I’m afraid.”

“When have you not gone overboard?” Frankie asked amused.

Frankie was an older man, but he was fit. Long curly gray-black hair falling to his chest that was more broad and muscular than your normal fifty-something year old man. He had a thick beard and mustache perfectly trimmed that covered a deep scar along his right jaw line from one of his many ‘adventures’ as an alpha wolf. Despite the scary and hard demeanor and aura he grinned easily and freely and he had always been the best player in all of Harry’s imaginative games.

“Shut up Franklin.” His Papa said, “I could say the same to you.”

“At least I don’t try to pretend I don’t spoil the lad. I’m very honest about my spoiling.” Harry shook his head, this happened every six months or so, Frankie and Papa fighting about ‘spoiling’ him.

It was never a real fight of course and when Harry was younger he had assumed it was more than playing, but he had grown out of that ridiculous thinking. Frankie and Papa were brothers in everything but blood and name. They had known each other for years, none of them ever told Harry the real truth as to how they met, but Harry had stopped asking when he recognized the deflection wasn’t because he was too young, but rather because Frankie always looked a little broken than before he had asked.

“Well thank you for the basket. I am sure I will use everything in it by the end of next week.” Harry told them glancing out to the pathway finding Sirius and Remus making their way towards the school.

“Does James know they’re here?” Papa asked, smirking lightly as he folded his arms, Harry refused to admit he was blushing even if he could feel his face getting hot.

“I’m not sure. We had a little fight Saturday and then Monday morning they proposed they come here a few times since I’d be too busy to go over there.” Harry explained

“Fight? Fight about what? He seemed accepting when we spoke at lunch two weeks ago.” Papa frowned, folding his arms again, it was his tick Harry had come to realize.

Papa had to fold his arms when he asked Harry something he deemed important so he wouldn’t get distracted by doing something with his hands. It was especially effective in the kitchen where he would normally start doing anything and soon got distracted by whatever it was he was doing.

“It’s nothing.” Harry told him with a small shrug which made both his Papa and Frankie raise their brow at him.

“What happened?” His papa asked

“I’ll tell you about it another time just…not right now.” Harry said lowering his voice as they grew closer

“Fine. But I’m asking again later.” Harry nodded, turning to Remus and Sirius as they entered the school. Sirius was laughing about something as he shook his head much like a dog would, Remus looked resigned as he had water shook on him as if it happened everyday.

“Must you do that everytime your hair gets wet in the rain?” Remus asked

“Yes. It keeps it fluffy.” Sirius said smiling as he walked to Harry, “Hello Harry.”

“Did you do that before or after you became an animagus?” Harry asked

“After.”

“Don’t lie to him. He did that when he was eleven coming out of the shower with only a towel around his hips. It’s no wonder he is able to turn into a long haired dog later in life.” Remus said, running a hand through his own wet hair, “Good afternoon Harry.”

Harry could see his Papa and Frankie share a look between them with a secret smile that Harry decided to ignore.

“Hi. Oh um this is my Papa and my Uncle Frankie.”

“Henry.” His Papa greeted holding his hand out, Remus took it with a grin.

“Remus.”

“I’m Frankie.” Harry knew Frankie and Remus would take a minute to get used to each other, both being alphas, but they didn’t let it affect them outwardly. Harry only knew because he could hear the slight growl in each voice and the territorial way they were acting around him. Even his Papa knew something was wrong as he grabbed Frankie’s arm and pulled him back two steps, Harry doing the same to Remus. Sirius looked wide eyed but stood closer to Remus as if prepared for anything.

“I’m Sirius.” Sirius broke the tension a little bit as he shook both of their hands, “It’s great to meet you both finally.”

“You as well.” Frankie said much more relaxed as he took Sirius’ hand in his then he turned to Harry, “Love you. I will see you soon, okay cub?” Harry nodded, stepping forward and hugging him tightly, but very briefly, “I’ll wait outside, but it was great to meet you both,” Frankie smiled at them both then he stepped outside just enough for their shoulders to relax and for Remus to grow a little sheepish.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s normal. He probably likes you more because you acted that way.” His Papa said with a laugh, “anyway Harry if you need anything-”

“I know. Owl you any time day or night no matter how big or small.” Harry said with a smile as he looked at his Papa, “You’ve told me that anytime I’ve left the house for a night. Just think in just a few weeks I’ll be home so much you’ll be begging for me to leave.” Harry joked smiling

“I doubt that.” His Papa said, stepping forward and gripping his chin gently before kissing his head, “Love you Harry.” Papa pulled away and looked at him, “Be good. Take care of yourself. I mean it, you better eat. I didn't go all the way to Switzerland to get you the expensive chocolates, just so they will sit in the basket untouched. I know how you get when you’re cramming for an important test. Pretty sure you lost ten pounds during OWLs.”

“Six pounds.” Harry corrected with an eye roll, “Are you going to leave or do I need to invite you to sit with us while I study too?” His Papa laughed shaking his head

“Alright I’m leaving. I know when I’m being kicked out. It was great to meet you two finally, make sure he eats anytime you’re with him he forgets sometimes.”

“We'll make sure he eats.” Remus promised

His Papa looked to Harry for a moment before he nodded and turned to leave before he stopped after a few steps and turned to Harry.

“What now?”

“Have I told you how proud of you I am this month?”

“Considering it’s the first of the month and I’m just now seeing you? No you haven’t.”

“Well I am very proud of you.”

“I know. You tell me almost every month. You’ve missed a few, but I don’t hold grudges.” His Papa laughed, shaking his head as he turned and left the school stopping briefly beside Frankie before they walked together.

“He seems great. No wonder James likes him and tells us how lucky it was you had him.”

“He’s overbearing at times, but yeah I suppose he’s great too.” Harry said as he walked between them, “Don’t worry about Frankie, it’ll just take you two some time to get used to each other and he looks intimidating, but he once pretended to be a cat because we were playing some game and I guess I told him the spell turned him into his nemesis. I was a very dramatic eight year old apparently.”

“Just the right type of intimidating that if we hadn’t been thirty seven and fought against Voldemort in the first war we’d probably be terrified.” Sirius told him making Harry laugh, “it’s good thing you’re not mated to a teenager, they'd never survive that stare he gave us.”

“They would have survived just not as dry.” Sirius laughed and Remus shook his head, “We can go to my dorm and before you give me any look, trust me you do not want to be in a crowded room with the type of students I call classmates. Even Frankie doesn’t like being in the library with more than a few people in it, he says the synchronized page turns give him nightmares.”

“Wherever you’re comfortable.” Remus said, “though we definitely will be telling James all about the synchronized page turns.”

“Does he know you’re here?” Harry asked

“Yes and No. He knows we planned to see you away from him occasionally, just not today. He’s trying, but the three of us are never going to get anywhere if James is there and we feel the need to be so cautious around you for his sake.” Remus told him

“He’ll come around.” Sirius said, “We suggested he talk to your Papa actually and he seemed to consider it. Maybe he can help him more than we can.”

“Maybe.” Harry agreed

The walk to the hall that housed his dorm was quick, the dorms were scattered in different corridors, no real organization to it at all. His dorm was on the fifth floor in the West Wing Corridor. It also housed a few seventh and sixth year girls and a few other boys from all different years. Celeste was outside in the hall looking out the open archway that served as a window with spells to keep the weather outside except the occasional breeze. She turned when she heard them.

“Oh hello Harry.”

“Hello Celeste.” Harry said politely as he walked to his door.

The cubs at the pack makes him a sign each year he leaves, this one was horrible. It was atrocious though they all are to be honest, but this one hit a new trier. It was orange and pink and some sort of green shade with ‘Harry’s Dorm’ written in white lettering. Harry loved it. Though he felt the need to explain that he didn’t make it and five three year olds who couldn’t decide on the color had. He didn’t, but mostly because Celeste was staring at them. Harry opened his door and let Remus and Sirius enter first.

“Goodbye Celeste” Harry said, closing the door behind him as he entered the room.

His dorm room and he assumed everyone else’s dorm room was almost like a flat style except it lacked a kitchenette. It had its own bathroom with only a shower, toilet, and sink, it had a full size bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a couch with a small fireplace that didn’t connect to the public floo network only the Headmasters’ office so a student could inform the headmaster of an emergency or an illness without leaving the dorm. It was a one way connection, opened only from inside the dorms so there were no accidental…anything.

The room opened up into a short hallway, the door on the left side leading into the bathroom. The hall opened up into a bigger room. The bed was in one corner, the foot of the bed nearest to the fireplace in the opposite corner. The couch beside the head of the bed and the desk and desk chair opposite that. The wardrobe beside the desk in the last corner available to use.

“Okay I am officially jealous.” Sirius said, “Well the teenager who had to share a dorm with other boys while trying to sneak my boyfriend into my bed for a very quiet slow paced sex is jealous.” Harry laughed as he walked further into the room and set his bag down on the bed then removed his school robes.

“Yes I’m sure my peers have taken advantage of the single room style many times. Imagine how many teenagers have had sex on that very couch.”

“On second thought-”

“I’m kidding. We’re allowed to change the furniture we’re in these dorms for seven years after all. I couldn’t stand the smells of the furniture when I moved in after my thirteenth birthday, I had to have Uncle Frankie and Papa get me new everything before I could sleep properly. Two years later I went shopping and bought a few different things. I’ll probably just leave everything here when I leave except for that desk.”

“The desk? Why?”

A second passed. Two. Then Harry spoke as he pulled his books out of his bag.

“It has secret ink pot holders.” Harry said with a grin laughing and dodging the stinking hex Sirius aimed at him.

It was a cover, they all knew it was a cover for the real reason, but no one said anything. Harry didn’t even know if they knew about Matteo, he didn’t know what James has told them or what he hasn’t told them since learning they were his mates. It was not a story Harry wanted to get into today or any day when he had a NEWT so soon. Though the secret ink pot holders were the second reason was neve getting rid of the desk.

“So you’re taking eight NEWTs this month.” Remus said

“Yeah I was going to go for ten, but they would have scheduled one of them on the Full Moon and I didn't want to risk it. Sometimes my leg hurts so badly I can’t leave my bed for a few hours so it was best to just go with eight. I did ask if my testing location could be changed so if I need to go to Hogwarts this month they can accommodate considering each of my NEWTs I’m getting a private instructor since not everyone is doing them this month or that day.”

“Why would you need to go to Hogwarts?” Sirius asked while sitting on the couch with Remus, Harry laid on his stomach on his bed facing towards them so they could continue to talk.

“Well we don’t really know how Remus’ first rut is going to affect him and there are different types of Ruts too just like there are different types of Heats. Like my first heat I cried the entire week and just needed to be with my Papa cuddled up in bed. When he left to pee I would feel like he was leaving me forever. It was terrible, Papa barely slept that week. Typically the sex crazed ruts and heats are the most common of course, but there are different kinds. The comforter I left there should work for most if not all ruts. It’s heavily scented, but if it doesn’t I’ll need to at least be in the family room where he can sense I’m close by.”

“So is it true I can’t have sex with him during his rut?” Sirius asked

“Again it depends, but it’d be safer if you didn’t just in case. This is the first time he’s going to be getting a knot and you won’t be able to take it safely until you’ve trained your body to do so. There are toys to do that and certain lube types to make it easier the first time or two.”

“There are toys? Remus! You never told me there are toys!” Sirius said, turning to Remus who had stayed silent determinedly ignoring the conversation going on around him.

“Can we stop talking about this?” Remus asked

“You prude. Fine but we are definitely coming back to this conversation.”

“Great. See what you did Harry. You’ve gone and- are you seriously turned on right now Sirius?”

“I am always turned on, Moony. This shouldn’t be a surprise to you.” Remus shook his head

“Grade your papers and stop talking about sex. Both of you.”

“You’re very bossy.” Harry said opening his Magical Creatures Studies class, it was his first NEWT and it was the one he was the most confident about this month mostly because it had been so easy with his Papa being a magizoologist. But he wanted to just read up on some more of the tricky creatures just in case.

“Tell me about it.” Sirius mumbled, “OW!” Harry laughed, glancing over to see Sirius rubbing his leg.

“Grade your papers.”

Sirius grumbled but otherwise did as he was told. The room fell into a soft silence…for five minutes then Sirius was talking again. Sirius apparently couldn’t work in silence, Harry had seen that last Friday when he and James spoke while grading their own papers.

“Was Magical Creatures Studies just a class to have an easy O or are you actually interested in it?” Sirius asked

“Kind of. I knew most of the coursework, but there were a few things I didn’t know and so it was interesting in that aspect, and when I signed up for it I wasn’t yet an Omega so I thought I would go into Magizoologist like my Papa. But some animals don’t react well to werewolves or Lycans especially omega ones so I had to change plans. It wasn’t that big of a deal, it was just an interest at twelve. I’ve changed career paths so many times before and since then that it didn’t bother me too much.”

“Is it similar to Care of Magical Creatures that Hogwarts offers?”

“I think so though ours is probably more in depth. All of our coursework is more in depth than Hogwarts I think. It’s really amazing how much they took out and yet you guys still have things to teach the student for ten months of the year.”

“Well some of us find little loopholes to teach the students a few things the Ministry doesn’t want us to, but not much. Like the patronus charm is considered unessential, but Remus still teaches it and gets away with it because he says he’s preparing his students in case they ever want to be a guard at Azkaban.”

“Everyone’s dream job I’m sure.” Harry said as he read over the passage about the Chimaera, “Just the fact you have to find loopholes like that for a spell that doesn’t even harm anyone is ridiculous. I might go into politics just to tell everyone how stupid they are.”

“I really don’t want to be seen with a politician can’t you do something cool like be a quidditch star.”

“I used to play quidditch. We have an international team which means we play schools who don’t have houses that play each other like Beauxbatons and Drumstrang. The winning house team at Hogwarts used to play us, but they stopped during Grindelwald I believe.”

“Oh yeah? What position?”

“Seeker. Got on the team my first year. Youngest Seeker in a Century.” Harry said

“Does James know this?” Remus asked

“No, I don't think so. It hasn’t been brought up. Besides, I stopped during my fourth year. I only stayed long enough for a new seeker to be found and trained and to play a few games we knew we were going to win. After Yule I was off the team.”

“Why’d you stop?” Sirius asked

“I wanted to focus more on my academics.” Another cover, but they didn’t know that like they did with the first one. Harry bit the pad of his thumb as he turned to the Fwoopers chapter.

“Don’t ever tell James that.” Remus told him making Harry laugh

“Yeah I wasn't planning on it. Poor guy would die of a broken heart.”

Conversation continued. It was light and easy. Sirius liked to talk, he liked conversation even if it was meaningless. Harry came to realize that Sirius talking and his classmates talking were very different, or maybe he was just biased, but he didn’t mind being pulled into a conversation about his favorite type of cuisine while he read about the Ramora. When Sirius declared he was done grading despite the large stack of ungraded papers and came to lay beside Harry on the bed and ask about the creatures Harry was reading up on or passing, Harry didn’t mind. He also didn’t mind when his study session turned into him telling Sirius about the creatures he hadn’t learned about at Hogwarts. He also told him about the animals he had around when he was growing up and all of his past and present pets.

***

“So…” His papa said the next day as they sat at a table for lunch after his NEWT test. Harry looked at him confused.

“So?”

“How was studying yesterday?” Harry was unable to stop the blush as he thought back to the day before, but Harry just shrugged as he grinned at his menu.

“It was fine.” He said

“Oh come on tell me.” His Papa begged

“There’s nothing to tell. Remus graded his papers, SIrius graded some of his papers then came to lay beside me on the bed while I studied and told him about the creatures he didn’t learn about at Hogwarts and about the ones we had around the house growing up.”

“He laid beside you on the bed?”

“Yes.”

“And asked about magical creatures? A topic you know almost if not everything about?”

“Yes.” His Papa grinned suddenly, but Harry was confused, “What?”

“And did his shoulder brush yours on occasion as you two laid beside each other?”

“I mean..yeah..I guess?” His papa gave him a look, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, “What?”

“Merlin's Balls Harry he was flirting with you.”

“What? No he wasn’t. Why would he need to flirt with me? I'm his mate.”

“You think flirting just stops once you’re serious with each other?”

“Doesn’t it?” His Papa laid his head back with a groan laughing.

“No it doesn’t. I’ll have you know Matteo and I flirted a lot when we were married. I’m sure Sirius and Remus still flirt with each other. It’s fun.”

“Lying beside each other and talking about magical creatures was his way of flirting?”

“For someone so smart you are so clueless.” His Papa said, shaking his head, “No. Lying beside each other and talking about a topic you are clearly interested in and like and touching each other was the flirting part.”

“That’s incredibly lame. Isn’t flirting sexual? That wasn’t sexual.”

“Flirting is not sexual-”

“Pretty sure that’s the definition of Flirting.”

“Harry stop being so literal. Flirting is a lot of things. This was probably his way of just telling you he likes you and he doesn’t see you as only his best friend's son. A way to get closer to you.”

“He could say those things in words?” Harry suggested much to his Papa’s exasperation as he laughed.

“You’re hopeless.” His Papa said, “Anyway you were going to tell me about the fight you apparently had with James last week.”

“It was nothing.” Harry said, but his Papa didn’t drop it so Harry told him exactly what happened and about the lunch and about the conversation afterwards. He was angry, Harry knew this as soon as he told him what James had said to Remus, but he was also angry because he knew, even if Harry didn’t tell him, that it had hurt far more than Harry had let on to James.

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Sirius and Remus suggested he talk to you and that maybe you could help him, but no I don’t know. It’s up to you.

“I’ll owl him and ask him when he’s available.” His Papa said, “If he ever hurts you to a point where you can’t or don’t want to forgive him it’s okay to stop talking to him. Temporarily or permanently. I don’t care.”

“Papa it’s fine it’s not like that. He didn’t-”

“I know he’s still learning but I mean later. If you need time away from him at any point tell me and I’ll make sure he gets the message loud and clear.”

“I know Papa.” Harry hesitated for a moment, “What have you told James about Matteo?”

“That we were married and then when you were thirteen, during your fourth year he left. What have you told them about Matteo?” Harry shrugged as he looked at the menu again

“Just that he is your ex husband and we no longer talk to each other.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” Harry said with a shrug, “So I am thinking about getting a soup. What are you thinking?”

His Papa pressed his lips together, narrowing his eyes a little at Harry, but after a few moments he sighed and finally told him he was thinking about a salad. THankfully his Papa decided to be nice and not bring it up again as he instead asked him how he thinks his NEWT went and if he was ready for the others. Their lunch passed quickly after that and once it was finished Harry went back to school to do some more work.

#Sirius x Remus #alpha remus lupin #omega harry potter #WolfstarxHarryPotter #HarryPotterxSiriusBlackxRemusLupin #sirius x remus x harry #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #alpha remus

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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SLEEPLESS

a/n: omg! it's been so long since i last wrote something for harry so it feels a bit weird but in a good way to be back. i've been spending more time offline so writing hasn't been going that fast like before, but im working on a few other stuff too! just please be patient with me, im trying my besti swear! so now enjoy this oneshot of two oblivious and stupid roommates who start sharing a bed...

pairing: Roommate!Harry x reader

word count: 8.1k

masterlist

Living with three boys has its perks but also a lot of downsides too. It’s not how you planned, you were set to move in with one of your friends from second year, but she bailed on you last minute, leaving you with no place to live when most of the houses were already taken for the next at least one year. You were bracing yourself to sleep under a bridge or something already when your heroes came along.

You went to high school with Harry Niall and Louis, but you weren’t exactly in the same friend group, just knew about each other. Then you ended up in the same Lit class freshman year with Harry and he was basically your pass into their little group. You hit it off pretty easily and you always wondered why you didn’t become friends before college. Later you had two more classes with him in the second semester and it was just all a coincidence that he found out about your living situation.

“Why don’t you move in with us?” he prompted one afternoon when you were studying together in the library.

“I’m not sharing a room with any of you, Harry,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“You wouldn’t have to. We had a fourth mate living with us but he dropped out about a month ago. You could take his bedroom.”

“Are for real? You should talk about it with the boys first, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind it. They like you too and if I’m being honest, the place could use the touch of a woman,” he smirked and you just rolled your eyes, but you were incredibly thankful for the offer.

So after talking with Niall and Louis about it and once they gave their amens on the situation, you officially moved in with the three of them.

You’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been times when you thought about choosing the bridge, living with boys is not exactly a dream. They are messy, sometimes loud and oblivious about certain things women do and need. You’ll never forget Niall’s face when you packed the shelf above the toilet with your tampons and pads. The horror in his eyes as he examined all the different sizes and types.

“But why so many? I don’t get it why you need the large ones and the mini ones too,” he huffed.

“Because I vary them according to the strength of my flow.”

“Bless you,” he scoffed and just walked away.

They tend to leave their clothes around the house and they don’t always realize when it’s time to let some fresh air into the place either. Harry has a sixth sense wanting to use the bathroom when you’re in and Louis always forgets to get rid of his spoiled food from the fridge. Tini things that surely got you thinking if it was a good idea to move in with them. But then there are times when you can’t even imagine sharing a home with anyone else than these three idiots.

The way Harry always leaves you a cup of coffee on the counter when he has an early class on mondays and wednesdays, how Niall always waits for you to get home after your night shifts at the restaurant you’ve been working at, but he always just says he was watching Supernatural on TV. You love that Louis goes out of his way to get you your favorite pastry for breakfast on sundays when he goes for his morning runs. But the absolute best is that you never feel alone or bored with these three around. Something is always happening and they make sure to involve you in everything, making you feel like part of their little pack.

Tonight is Thursday and Thursdays are movie nights in your home. It’s been a tradition since the first week and you haven’t missed any of them. Sitting on the couch at your usual spot, you laugh as Niall growls in annoyance when you suggest to watch another rom-com.

“Not again!” he protests, sitting on the floor by the coffee table you and Harry thrifted a few months ago after the previous one was broken at a smaller party held in the house.

“Why? I bet Harry would love it!” you grin, glancing at the guy in talk who is now entering the room with a big bowl of popcorn.

“Of course he would, because he is a pussy! And the two of you always team up, dragging Louis with you so I can never watch something I enjoy!” Niall whines as Harry sits next to you, not too bothered by his friend’s cries.

“Come on, I bet you enjoyed Crazy, Stupid Love last week!” you laugh, remembering how he whined for the first part, then fell asleep at the end.

“Love, if you think that was enjoyment, I wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend,” Niall scoffs and you gasp at his reply.

“Hey!” you snap at him, but can’t help laughing. This is how it always goes with you and Niall, the non-stop bickering can sometimes drive Harry and Lou insane.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” Harry asks, throwing some popcorn into his mouth as he gets comfortable, an arm resting on the back of the couch behind you, the other one busy with the snack in his lap.

“There is this new horror I’ve been dying to see!” Niall’s blue eyes light up right away, but you’re fast to break that shine.

“Nah, no way. I’m not watching a horror movie.”

“Why not?”

“Because I fucking hate them and they scare the shit out of me.”

“That’s like the whole point!” he protests, but you shake your head no again.

“What are you fighting about again?” Louis asks, walking into the room after his quick shower, the smell of his body wash filling the room for a few moments.

“I want to watch a horror movie, but Y/N is a little baby and she doesn’t want to.”

“I’m not a baby! I just don’t enjoy watching people get killed or demons sucking the life out of someone!” Niall just rolls his eyes at your response.

“But it’s always what you or Harry wants to watch, why can’t I choose just this once?”

“That’s not true, we watch movies you like too!” you retort, but Niall gives you an unimpressed look. “We watched that crime thing, that was your choice!”

“That was three months ago, Y/N,” he sighs and as you do some quick math you realize that he is right.

“Hey, he has a point. Let’s just watch what he wants this one time, yeah?” Harry curls his arm that’s been on the back of the couch around your shoulder and he pulls you to his side, squeezing you gently.

“But I hate horrors,” you pout, knowing well that it’s already kind of settled, you lost this battle.

“It’s just a movie. And if you get scared in the night, you can sleep at mine,” he offers with a wink that surely makes your heartbeat fasten a bit.

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a tiny crush on Harry, even back in high school, when you didn’t really know him. He was the cool guy, but not the douchebag type, more like the one that was nice to everyone and earned their respect and liking. Getting to know him just proved that he really is a great guy, but you figured he would never feel the same way about you. These three guys only saw you as their sister and that was in a way kinda worse than being friend zoned, but there’s nothing you can do about it, so you just decided to come to peace with your situation. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get flustered when you see him wander around the house in just his boxers or when he gets a little touchy with you, which happens a lot, because that’s just how he is. Hands on your shoulders, a little squeeze on your hips, the gentle touch of his fingers on your back, they happen all the time and they get your pulse up every time. You can only hope it’s not that noticeable.

Niall finally gets what he wants and you agree to watch that stupid horror movie. It doesn’t start off too bad, but it quickly escalates and makes you shudder every time the screen gets a little darker or the music is foreshadowing that something is about to happen.

“Jesus fuck!” you jump a little when the killer appears out of nowhere in the scene.

“You alright?” Harry asks, peeking down at you.

“I fucking hate this dude,” you mumble, rubbing your face with your hands, to get your shit together. Harry chuckles lightly next to you, his arm pulling you to his side close and you gladly sink against him, the warmth of his body giving you some comfort and a sense of safety.

Your eyes are on the screen, but your mind is dancing around how his fingers are delicately running up and down your arm, drawing circles and little shapes on your skin. It could put you to sleep easily, even with the woman screaming on the screen after seeing her husband get killed.

“Just imagine the guy with a funny mustache,” Harry murmurs, leaning closer to you so he doesn’t bother the other two guys with his comment. “Or maybe in a ridiculous outfit.”

“Like… in a onsie?” you ask, squinting your eyes at the screen.

“Could be, yeah,” he chuckles quietly. “Just imagine him running through the woods in a onsie with bunnies all over it.”

You can’t push your laughter down, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t bother the others. Harry just smirks, giving you a squeeze as you’re still melted against his side on the couch, legs pulled up to your chest, while his are spread out in front of him.

“Definitely not that scary,” you giggle and Harry hums in agreement.

“Would you mind getting a fucking room, you guys? You have two, in fact!” Niall snaps at you playfully, when you start laughing again.

“Sorry, sorry!” you clear your throat, your cheeks heating up at the comment, but luckily it’s dark enough to hide your embarrassment. Niall is always quick to make dirty jokes and tease you in a way that makes you nervous, especially when it involves Harry as well. He has made plenty of comments about you and Harry since you’ve moved in, implying that the two of you sometimes act like a couple or that you should hook up. Harry is always quick to shake them off, that’s how you know he couldn’t even take the thought seriously.

At the end of the movie you feel like it wasn’t bad, not with Harry holding you close at least.

“Will you be screaming tonight, Y/N?” Niall teases you, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Either way it’s gonna be your fault.”

“I can live with that!” he laughs, bidding his goodbye before he shuts the door of his bedroom behind him.

You do your usual evening routine, get ready to bed and by the time you’re done in the bathroom all the boys have retired into their rooms. The hallway stands dark in front of you, only a tiny bit of light coming from your bedroom since you left your bedside lamp on in there, but you still can’t help the eerie feeling that washes over you. That movie didn’t sit right with you and now you have to face the aftermath of it.

Switching the lights in the bathroom off you sprint into your bedroom, pictures from the movie flashing in your mind of the killer just jumping out of nowhere. You shut the door and lean your back against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. Tonight is going to be long.

No matter how hard you try, you just can’t fall asleep. You’re way too alerted, opening your eyes at the tiniest of sounds around you, which is unfortunate, because your window is looking over the main street, unlike two other rooms in the house, that are facing the small backyard. Harry and Louis have the luck to have those rooms.

Every time you’re about to fall asleep something from the movie sneaks into your thoughts and you get scared to death. Soon, you realize you won’t be able to sleep on your own tonight.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you wonder if Harry really meant that offer that you can sleep with him or not. Part of you is convinced it was just a joke, but when you hear someone shouting down the street you push your doubts aside and you quickly find yourself making your way to Harry’s room.

You knock on the room lightly, not wanting to wake anyone else up. The last thing you need is Niall seeing you go into Harry’s room in the middle of the night.

No answer comes from inside, but you won’t just leave it at that. Opening the door you’re facing another dark room, barely making out the furniture, but you already know the route by heart. Making it to the bed your eyes finally adjust to the darkness and you can see Harry lying on his side, sleeping peacefully. Squatting down you place a hand to his shoulder and give him a tiny shake.

“Harry?” you call out quietly, but his answer is just a huff. “Harry, it’s me,” you try again, squeezing his arm. He furrows his eyebrows before slowly blinking his eyes open, finding you in his sight.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks in that groggy, low voice you love hearing in the morning so much.

“I can’t… Did you mean that I can sleep here if I’m scared?” you ask, afraid that he might just have a good laugh and send you back to your room. For a long moment, he just blinks at you before nodding his head and you feel relief washing over you.

“Sure,” he hums.

“O-okay then I’ll bring a blanket and take the floor and--”

“Shut up, you are not sleeping on the floor,” he growls, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into bed with him as he scoots over, making you space on the mattress.

It’s a bit weird at first, lying in bed with Harry, especially because it’s just queen sized, so there’s not much space between the two of you, but it seems like Harry doesn’t mind it so why should you?

Your nerves are a lot calmer with Harry next to you, but maybe it’s still because of the movie or because you’re a bit anxious about the whole situation, you just still can’t relax enough to fall asleep.

“Y/N, no one is gonna kill you here,” Harry speaks up surprising you because you thought he has already fallen back asleep.

“I know, I know,” you whisper, trying to sound convincing, but you can’t fool anyone, especially not him.

He huffs deeply and before you could realize what’s happening, Harry’s arm is curled around your waist, pulling you against him, spooning you from behind, the warmth of his body wrapping your figure almost entirely.

“If a murderer comes, they will have to fight me first, alright? Now sleep,” he mumbles against your hair, squeezing you gently. All at once, you couldn’t care about killers and dark shadows around you, because Harry was right there, holding you tight and there was nowhere you wanted to be more than right there.

You slept like a baby. Harry’s closeness kept every nightmare away from you and the morning came with ease. Harry’s phone wakes the two of you up at eight, because he has a morning class at 9.30. The two of you are completely tangled up in each other, lying on your side facing each other, Harry’s arms are wrapped around you, while yours are hugging his waist. Groaning at the sound of his alarm, he rolls to his back to reach for the phone on the nightstand and then he finally turns it off. It’s bright outside, the darkness of the night finally long gone. You’re still groggy when Harry rolls back, his arm coming back around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world and in a sense, it feels like that. But as you both slowly wake up, you realize that you might be a little too close. Slowly but surely you let go of each other, rolling to your back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hope I didn’t kick you in my sleep,” you smile at him, peeking over at him, hoping to break the awkwardness of the situation.

“No, don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, rubbing his eyes, before pushing himself up and off the bed. You follow him with your gaze as he steps to his dresser and grabs a pair of clean underwear. “I’ll put on a coffee while I shower, want one too?” he asks, though you know he could make one for you anyway.

“Sure, thank you,” you nod and he nods back, yawning as he walks out of the room, leaving you lying in his bed, a bit confused and kind of aching to be held by him again.

Two days pass by, everything is going as per usual, neither you nor Harry brings up that you spent the night in his bed that one particular time. Now it’s saturday and you all were planning to go out, but a sudden storm has cancelled your plans, so the evening turned into a cozy, lazy hangout instead of a wild party at some frat house.

Louis decided to work on a paper that’s due in two weeks, Niall has been relentlessly swiping on Tinder while you and Harry are spawled out on the couch, watching some shitty action movie that was on TV, since you both were too lazy to choose one and put it on. Deep down you’re a little happy you don’t have to spend the evening in a crowded, smelly house, drinking cheap alcohol.

Harry gets up from his seat to grab himself a drink just when Niall growls in annoyance.

“What is it?” you ask.

“They keep unmatching with me after we’ve talked a little!”

“Have you thought about the reason?” you smirk at him, knowing well that Niall probably isn’t the easiest to talk to, he surely takes it too far too soon.

“Well they probably don’t like that I ask them if I can go over,” he shrugs, making you laugh.

“You’d go over in the pouring rain?” Harry asks, returning to his spot on the couch. He puts his drink to the coffee table and instead of sitting into his previous position, leaning against the arm of the couch, he lies down, laying his head to your thigh, making your breath hitch for a moment.

“Of course not!” Niall rolls his eyes. “But I thought it would make them think I would do anything for them.”

“It makes you seem desperate,” Harry retorts, earning a questioning look from his friend. “What? It does!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does,” you nod in agreement. “Going over in the middle of a storm just to fuck? Sounds like you’re having a hard time finding someone.”

“Women are so fucking complicated, and for what?!” he growls, before storming off to his bedroom, like an angsty teenager, leaving you and Harry alone.

He doesn’t move, his head stays on your thigh using it as a pillow. His curls are tickling the soft skin on your thigh and you have to fight the urge to play with his hair or scratch his scalp. You stay like this for the rest of the movie and when he gets up you almost want to pull him back.

“Alright, I’m fucked, I’m gonna go to bed,” he yawns, stretching his arms out into the air as he heads into his bedroom. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Harry!” you call after him as you watch his frame disappear down the hallway.

Sighing, you slide down on the couch, cursing under your breath that you’re still so hung up on Harry. You really thought that you had it under control, but lately those damn butterflies are acting up in your stomach at everything he does.

“I’m pathetic,” you mumble under your breath just as the sky rumbles outside with a blinding lightning, making you jump with a squeak. “Shit,” you huff, already knowing that falling asleep will be a pain in the ass. Again.

You’ve always hated storms, they make you think that something bad is about to happen, a tree is about to fall into the window or a lightning will blow up the building. It’s kind of stupid, you know it, but you just can’t help it.

Tossing and turning, you jump every time a lightning flashes somewhere outside and a few seconds later the thunder rips through your whole body, almost making you fall off the bed.

“Oh God,” you let out a shaky breath. You have no idea how long it is until the Storm finally stops and you’d really like to have a good night's sleep. So pushing your anxious thoughts to the side, you get out of bed and head over to Harry’s room once again.

It’s such a deja vu from a few nights ago, as you gently knock on the door you wait again, but this time you actually get an answer.

“Yeah?” you hear him call out from inside and you slowly open the door, peeking your head inside. Harry is lying in bed, his head propped up against the headboard as he is scrolling through his phone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks, putting the phone aside as he sits up.

“I just, I-I know it’s stupid, but I was thinking… I don’t know--”

“Y/N, just tell me, alright? Come on in,” he gestures for you and you slip into the room, closing the door behind you before sitting to the edge of the bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep during storms…” you admit, looking into his eyes, hoping he gets the hint where you want to head with it. He stares back at you for a moment before he scoots over, lifting the covers up, giving you the green light to join him.

Relieved, you climb over to him, making yourself comfortable as he wraps the blanket over you, his arm immediately coming to cradle you, this time pulling you to his chest so your head is laid upon his shoulder, a hand gently placed onto his hard chest, probably right above where his butterfly tattoo is adorning his abdomen.

This is now easily your favorite place. Safe and tight in Harry’s arms, protected from anything and everything, like you’re in a little bubble as soon as you get on his bed.

Lightning strikes outside again and you shiver a little. Harry probably notices it, because he tightens his hold around you, as if it’s his way telling you that he is here and nothing bad is gonna happen. Eventually, you’re able to shut the outside out and only focus on Harry’s warmth, the touch of his hand on your arm and his even breathing. And then finally, you drift off to sleep.

This morning is different from the previous one you spent here. There’s no alarm since it’s Sunday, neither of you have anything in particular to do, so you wake up feeling rested, the Sun shining through his half drawn in curtains, no trace of last night’s storm can be noticed from where you’re lying in bed, the sky is as clear as ever. Sometime during the night you got tangled in a way where Harry is the one now cuddling you, his head lying on your chest, hugging you as if you were a giant teddy bear, his leg thrown between yours, lightly snoring against your sleep shirt. You can only see his mop of hair and the urge to play with them is back, but this time, you give in.

Leaving one hand on his back, you move the other one to his unruly locks, gently playing with one before you comb your fingers through it, lightly scratching his scalp. Harry hums in pleasure, shifting from his dreams back to reality, but he doesn’t move, just keeps humming as you massage his scalp.

“It’s not a good morning, it’s the best,” he mumbles groggily, making you chuckle at his words.

One of his hands is flat against your ribcage and the damned butterflies start dancing when you feel his fingers gently stroke your side as you keep playing with his curls. This feels so idyllic, as if you’ve been like this forever. You wish that was true.

Groaning as he stretches, Harry rolls to his back, making you instantly miss his body pressed against yours. He rubs his eyes, sighing deep as he blinks up at the ceiling a few times, then he turns his head to the side, looking at you.

Just when he is about to say something, outside his door it sounds like someone just broke a pile of plates and it’s followed by Niall’s usual annoyed growl. You both get out of bed to go and check what happened, not even thinking about how it might appear that you both are coming from Harry’s room in the morning.

Harry flings the door open and there is Niall, collecting pieces of a plate from the floor, his breakfast scattered down the hallway as well while he curses under his breath.

“What happened?” Harry asks, picking up a bigger piece from the plate.

“Fucking tripped,” he growls back, glancing up just for a moment, then back down, but then he processes that you’re standing behind Harry, in his room, in the morning. “What the fuck are you doing in Harry’s room?” he bluntly asks, quickly forgetting about the mess he just made.

“What?” you ask nervously, your pulse quickening in an instant. Harry stands up, seemingly not too bothered by Niall’s question.

“You slept in his room?!”

“She did,” Harry answers, leaning against the doorframe.

“Wait, are you two fucking?” Niall’s eyes widen, snapping back and forth between you and Harry.

“Just because two people sleep in the same bed, doesn’t mean they are fucking, Niall,” Harry chuckles, seemingly amused by the situation that’s got your stomach knotted. Louis’ door opens and he walks out, his hair a little messy, but already dressed, a mug halfway filled with coffee in his hand.

“Wha’s this circus out here?” he asks, looking around, his eyes scanning over the mess on the floor.

“Did you know these two are fucking?” Niall asks him and Harry lets his head drop back at his words.

“Are you?” Louis simply questions and you shake your head no.

“We are not. Y/N can’t sleep in a storm so she came over to mine.”

“Funny, she doesn’t come to me when she’s scared,” Niall scoffs.

“I never came to you because you don’t understand that sleeping together doesn’t mean sex,” you retort, though your ears are practically burning from the rising anxiety inside you.

“Wait, whoa. This wasn’t the first time you two slept together?”

“She was scared after your stupid horror movie too,” Harry shrugs.

“Wow, so are you guys a thing now or what?”

“Niall!” Harry growls and you’re not entirely sure what bothers you more. Niall’s shock and interrogation or the way Harry seems so cool and unbothered, like it’s no big deal. Maybe because for him it really isn’t, it’s only about the sleeping, nothing else, even though the cuddles are a little beyond the lines of friendship.

“What? I’m just asking the important stuff! Am I not allowed to tell dirty jokes to Y/N because you’ll cut my prick off?”

“You shouldn’t tell those anyway,” Louis chimes in and you nod in agreement.

Seeing that the conversation is just getting more and more awkward with each passing moment you decide to pull yourself out of it. Pushing yourself past Harry you mumble an excuse me before rushing back into your room, the three boys eyeing you curiously as you shut the door behind you, finally putting a physical barrier between you and them.

You shouldn’t be this offended, it’s not like any promises were made and you should have known better and not fall for him more than you already did. It was silly of you to think that there was anything more behind these nights spent curled up against each other, or when you woke up tangled and melted together. It was never what you hoped it to be.

Then and there you decide it’s better if you distanced yourself from him, or at least go back to how it was before. No bed sharing, no cuddling and preferably no bitter feelings.

It all goes well, because you have a pretty busy week after that day, you always have something to do and it’s not like you spent the night with Harry randomly, so it was evident that you stayed in your room so far.

But about a week later another storm was threatening to strike. The sky was gradually darkening all afternoon and now it’s only five o’clock, but it feels like eight. It’s Sunday, you’re quite exhausted since you were working until three. Niall was out somewhere with some of his coursemates and Louis went home for the weekend, won’t be back until Tuesday. It’s just you and Harry, who’s been sprawled out on the couch in only his sweatpants while you’re making yourself an early dinner so you can go to bed soon and have a good night’s sleep.

It doesn’t take long for the rain to start pouring, you’ve just gotten out of the shower when the first thunder rips through the place, making you gasp in fear. Harry’s head snaps around, looking in your way where you’re standing at the bathroom door, a questioning look in his eyes, but he doesn’t say a word. Ignoring his gaze, you just make your way into your bedroom, not even thinking about what could be on his mind. Is he thinking about whether you’ll ask to sleep with him again or he doesn’t care about it at all?

By the time you are ready to go to bed, the storm is fully raging outside, making your insides tremble every time you see a lightning or the thunder breaks the quietness in the house. You make one last trip to the kitchen, finding Harry leaned against the counter as he eats an apple.

“Going to bed early?” he asks as you pour yourself some water.

“Mhm,” you nod, avoiding looking at him.

“Everything alright?”

“Sure, I’m just tired,” you force a small smile onto your face just when a thunder rumbles outside, making you jump. Harry is watching you curiously and kind of expectantly, but you’re doing your best ignoring it. Instead, you just grab your water and head back to your room. “Good night.”

“Night, Y/N,” he calls after you, and you can feel his burning gaze on your back right until you close the door behind you.

Your plan to sleep a good ten hours goes right out the window. It doesn’t seem like the storm is about to calm anytime soon, so you’re stuck to suffer through it on your own. You’ll be damned to go to Harry’s, that would be an instant heart break and you just can’t take that right now. Long, torturous hours pass by with you lying awake in bed and part of you wants to go running over to Harry, but you force yourself to stay. It’s not happening tonight.

You fall asleep sometime after two in the morning when the thunder and lightning have stopped. Unfortunately, you need to wake up early in the morning, so when your phone’s alarm shakes you out of your sleep, you feel like absolute shit. Dragging yourself out of bed appears to be the hardest thing right now. As you make your way out, you are met with an all too familiar figure sitting at the small dining table, two cups of coffees in front of him, one obviously made for you.

Harry’s eyes snap up at you curiously, taking in your terrible looks as you head to the bathroom.

“Morning,” you mumble under your breath.

“Good morning’,” he nods in your way and though he doesn’t say anything else, you can tell he has a few thoughts about your current state.

Once you’re done with your morning business in there you join him at the table, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Rough night?” he asks, eyes examining your face.

“Kinda.”

“The storm?”

You don’t answer, just nod your head. He remains silent, but you can feel that he is dying to ask another question.

Why didn’t you come over?

You’re glad he doesn’t actually asks you, because you wouldn’t be able to give either a normal answer or say anything without starting to cry. Instead, you just grab your coffee and head back into your bedroom to get ready for the day.

That week on Friday all four of you are invited to a party. At first you want to cancel, but some of your friends from classes will be there too and it’s been ages since you’ve been to a great party, so you decide to tag along with the boys.

For the first half of the evening you go your separate way, spending time with people you don’t actually live with and see every day. One drink follows the other, though you make sure you don’t go farther than getting tipsy. You’re not in the mood to deal with a nasty hangover in the morning.

Sometime after your third or fourth drink you run into Niall and he pulls you into their little circle that also involves Harry. When he sees that you’ve joined them, his eyes light up and goes out of his way to get next to you.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” he whines, slurring his words as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to keep you at his side. He is definitely drunk, that you’re sure of.

“It’s been just about two hours, Harry,” you roll your eyes, but can’t push your smile down. You’d be lying if you said you’re not enjoying having him so close. Your dynamic hasn’t been the same since you stopped sleeping in his bed. Not that it was such a regular activity, it only happened two times.

“But I missed you, I feel like we haven’t… haven’t talked in so long!” he huffs, knitting his eyebrows together. “Have you been avoiding me?” he asks leaning closer, so your conversation can somewhat be private.

“That’s silly. Of course I haven’t!”

“But it feels like that,” he pouts with glossy eyes. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Sure,” you nod, the bitter taste of lying filling your mouth.

“Alright, cool,” he smirks and pulling closer he kisses into your hair before he engages with the rest of the group again, keeping his arm around you as if it wasn’t a big deal.

For the rest of the evening you simply don’t leave his side and not because he doesn’t let you, but because you don’t want to. Harry is not the only one missing the other, this week you’ve noticed that even though you’ve been keeping yourself busy, your thoughts always took you back to one particular, curly haired boy. Despite everything that’s been going on, he is your friend first and foremost who you love spending time with and talking about anything and everything.

Both of you are intoxicated, Harry a bit more than you, but you’re having a blast playing beerpong or ruining Niall’s chances with girls he is trying to pick up. You’re genuinely having an amazing time and it wouldn’t be the same without Harry.

Arriving back home your little group splits, everyone using the bathroom after the other and you’re the last one in line, because you always take the longest. By the time you’re finished, Louis and Niall are both locked up in their rooms, but Harry’s door is still open, some dim lighting illuminating the hallway. As you approach it, you find him throwing his dirty clothes into the hamper, but his head perks up when he sees you.

“Good night, H,” you sigh, quite tired and in need of a good sleep, but before you could head into your own bedroom, Harry grabs your wrist and pulls you into his. “What is it?”

“Sleep here,” he simply prompts, already leading you to the bed.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

“I-I… I don’t--” you stutter, feeling flustered from his offer.

“Come on, you can’t say no,” he tells you, already crawling under his covers and then he holds them up as the invitation.

Taking a deep breath you follow him and make yourself comfortable in your almost usual spot. Harry’s arm falls over your waist in an instant, spooning you from behind as he hums pleased. But a few moments later he lifts his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“You know you can say no, right? I was just joking.” Looking back at him you give him a small smile. Even drunk he makes sure you aren’t doing anything you don’t want to, but how could you not want it? You’ve been aching to sleep next to him all week, especially after the last storm when you suffered alone in your room.

“I know, Harry.”

“Alright, okay,” he nods, his head dropping back to the pillow. “I missed this,” he mumbles with a sigh.

“Yeah?”

“Mm, sleeping alone sucks,” he hums and in a split second, your heart breaks.

Harry didn’t want to sleep with you, he just wanted to sleep with someone and you were the one there. It has nothing to do with you.

You want to blame him, you want it to be his fault that your chest is now aching, knowing that it truly doesn’t mean the same thing to him it does to you, but you know you can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, so once again, you’re left with a sinking heart wrapped up into Harry’s embrace that suddenly feels burning.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry.”

When the morning comes Harry is still sleeping deep beside you, an arm thrown over your waist, puffing warm air against the side of your head with every breath he exhales. Seeing him so peaceful warms your heart, but then you realize everything that happened last night, how he only used you because you were available and not because he wanted you.

You don’t want to wait for him to wake up and face him, your emotions would surely bring the best out of you. So carefully, you unwrap yourself from his hold and sneak out of his room, back into yours.

There’s no way you can face Harry right now, so before he could wake up you leave, planning on spending the day in the library, working on your assignments, hoping the school work will take your mind off of how badly you’ve been friendzoned.

Sometime after eleven Harry actually texts you asking where you went and you just tell him you have a shitload of school stuff to deal with. He asks if he can join you, but you tell him you’re with a group of your classmates, even though you’re sitting in an almost entirely empty library. He luckily doesn’t push it and leaves you to be. Hopefully he’ll be fine when you take another step away from him for a while to get your head straight and sort your emotions out.

You get home quite late, but not late enough, apparently. Because walking into the house you find the boys clearly getting ready to watch a movie.

“Just in time!” Niall beams. “Join us, Princess!” he laughs, grabbing himself a cola from the fridge.

“Oh, no, I have some things to work on--”

“Come on, you’ve been in the library all day, you can have a break!” Louis tells you and you know you won’t be left alone, they are just so persistent.

So you join them in your usual spot, which is of course next to Harry, though you’re trying to avoid his gaze that hasn’t left you since you arrived and by now you’re certain he knows you’re avoiding him. There’s a reason why he asked you last night if you’ve been doing it lately, he is not stupid, but this is not the time to deal with it.

With your inner crisis bubbling inside you, you completely forget to ask what you’re watching. A few minutes into the movie it becomes quite clear however.

“Is this a fucking horror movie again?” you ask, snapping at Niall, who just starts laughing.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Harry will gladly let you sleep in his bed tonight,” he teases, making your whole face heat up at his comment. Harry slaps his chest before he turns to you with concern filled eyes, but you pretend like you see nothing, turning back to the screen with your jaw clenched.

You’re fucked.

The movie is a fucking shitshow and leaves you traumatized. When it’s over, you think about why didn’t you just stand up and go into your room when you realized it’s another horror. For a change, this one was filled with demons and monsters that hide in the shadows, just what you need before going to bed. In the night. In a totally dark room.

Exiting the bathroom you’re already planning on watching something lighthearted and cheerful in your room, hoping that would make you forget the movie you just saw and give you the chance to actually sleep.

Walking past Harry’s room you see that it’s still open and you catch him expectantly looking at you when you appear in the doorway as you walk down the hallway, your eyes meeting for just a split second before you disappear from his sight and shut your bedroom door without a word behind you.

No matter how many random videos you watch on YouTube, some scenes from the movie are just imprinted into your mind and they have you trembling in fear. Every shadow looks like a demon or ghost, hiding in your room, ready to haunt and kill you and you’re on the verge of actually crying. It might not be only because of the movie, more like everything else that’s been bottled up inside you, added to the fear the movie has brought to you.

Shutting your eyes closed you try to take deep breaths and for a bit it actually seems to help, but that is until you hear the door opening. It gives you an instant heart attack and you can’t keep your tears back anymore.

A whimper leaves your mouth as the door opens and you can only see a shadow entering the room, totally not recognizing Harry in the dark.

“Y/N, hey, it’s just me! It’s okay!” he quickly clears, seeing how shaken up you are. He rushes over to the bed, one hand cupping your cheek, the other one finding your hand and before you could think, you grip it hard.

“You scared the living hell out of me!” you cry out, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to check on you.”

Silence sets between the two of you that’s only momentarily broken by your shaky breaths as you try to calm yourself down.

“Why didn’t you come to mine after the movie if you were so scared?” he then asks, surprising you with how straightforward he is.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you mumble, blinking the remaining of the tears away as Harry stares down at you intently.

“Why would you think you’d bother me? I like having you there.”

“But it’s… Doesn’t matter,” you sigh in defeat, but it just concerns him even more.

“No, tell me!”

“Harry, just go back to your room. I’ll be fine.”

“You definitely won’t and I’m not leaving until you don’t tell me what’s going on,” he protests firmly and you lose your patience to keep lying to him.

“You just wanted someone to sleep with yesterday, okay? You didn’t need me. And… I don’t want to depend on you more than I should.”

Harry stares back at you with a blank expression and you feel like this is going to be the end of your friendship. You have to come clean about your feelings and he’ll tell you that he doesn’t feel the same way. But then he speaks up and the tables turn faster than ever.

“Y/N, I wanted you to sleep with me last night. Not just anyone. You.”

“What?”

“I really thought we have been on the same page, but apparently, we’re not even in the same book,” he sighs, confusing you even more. “Wasn’t it suspicious how things have been between us lately? The way we slept, the mornings, did you think these are normal things to do?”

“I-I thought that… it didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Well it did,” he replies and you breath hitches in your throat. “I was trying to take it slow, see how you’d react to everything and I thought you were feeling the same way. But then last time you didn’t come to my room when there was a storm and I thought that was your way of telling me that you want to pause whatever’s been going on.”

You’re just blinking in shock, listening to his words. This is nothing you expected.

“But then you seemed like you opened back up last night and you agreed to sleep with me, thought we were back on track, but then you were nowhere to be found in the morning, avoided me all day and now you would have rather spent the night crying here alone than to come over to me. What did I do? Just tell me, because quite frankly, I have no idea what we are doing anymore, Y/N,” he sighs, clearly tired of this insane game you’ve been playing without even knowing.

“So… you did all of this, because… you…”

“Because I like you, Y/N. But there’s a possibility it’s already way more than just a strong liking,” he admits with a soft chuckle that melts you in an instant.

“Oh god, I could cry again, but not out of fear this time,” you tell him, making him laugh as you scoot closer to him on the mattress. “I feel the same way, Harry,” you softly tell him, your hands finding the base of his neck while his hands have wandered to your waist so now he is pulling you towards him until he ends up in his lap. His face is now so close, and even in the dark, you can see the cheesy smile on his pink lips.

“You’re not saying this just to keep me here because you’re scared to be alone, right?” he asks, clearly joking, earning a wholehearted laugh from you.

“No, but I guess that would be a major benefit of it.”

“I’ll protect you from all the demons and killers under one condition,” he smirks, his face already inching closer, his nose is already touching yours.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“I get to kiss you.”

“Deal.”

You barely say this one little word, his lips are already on yours, kissing you in a way that almost knocks all the air out of your lungs. You press yourself up against him, his arms curling around you, holding you tight as if he is already protecting you from everything that scares you, though you can’t really think about the stupid horror movies now that you’re kissing Harry.

He pulls you down with himself making you lie on your back as he holds himself up above you, his lips parting from your just enough so he can look into your eyes.

“How about I kiss you every time you feel scared?” he prompts, pecking your lips gently as you pull your legs up and his hips settle between your thighs, while your hands dance down his back.

“Alright, I’m in,” you smirk at him and for a moment he just stares back at you, smiling wide, in complete awe that it’s finally happening. Then he cocks his head to the side before speaking up.

“Are you still scared?”

“Very,” you nod. “I’m shaking.”

“Good,” he grins before his lips press onto yours again.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles oneshots #harry styles one shots #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

Note

Neil is suddenly more “nice” to billy, and it actually makes him even more on edge. Billy thinks he must of found something out and is just waiting for the moment to punish him, but he doesn’t know what it could be about

(tw: f-slur, Neil Hargrove, mentions of abuse)

It happens more often than you'd think. About once a year, never at the same time and never with the same result.

Sometimes, it just so happens that Neil is happier for a day or two and it has nothing to do with Billy. Maybe he got a promotion or pay raise, and he's just feeling proud of himself and less confrontational.

Other times, it's because Billy did something to royally piss him off and Neil likes having the "element of surprise" even though Billy can feel it coming, like a rainstorm in summer.

This time, however, it's a few weeks before Billy turns 18. His graduation is two days away, Saturday, and Neil hasn't done a single thing. Hasn't made rude comments or pushed Billy into any walls or furniture in a week.

For now, Billy assumes it's because he's graduating and Neil doesn't want his face and arms covered in bruises when they take pictures and he has to stand in front of his classmates and their parents and have everyone looking at him.

But the niceties continue. The next week is fairly calm, Billy has been working pretty much the whole week and hasn't been home much, even been late once, but Neil hasn't said, hasn't done a single thing.

He's greeted him when he came home, told him there was a plate in the microwave with leftovers on it, even told him goodnight as he passed his room in the hallway.

The next week follows the same pattern.

Billy feels like he's just about ready to jump out of his skin. Every creek of the door and every cough and clearing of Neil's throat makes his heart skip a beat and he wishes something would just happen already.

The week after is good. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday all go smoothly.

Thursday, Billy wakes up to loud banging. He quickly opens his eyes and sits up in his bed, eyes slowly adjusting to the still-dark lighting of his room.

Neil is holding full trash bags and the crates that once formed his dresser were now full of his things.

"What--"

Neil slams down two trash bags outside of Billy's door.

"Well, up and at 'em, son! The big 1-8! You're an adult now!"

Billy feels thrown off from any balance he'd had before because he was expecting a fight, angry words with angrier actions. This, this he was not expecting.

"C'mon, son, you didn't think you'd be living with your old man forever, did you? You've got to learn responsibility. Get out there!" Neil looked elated with the situation. Billy was still in his ruffled sheets looking around at the bags and crates and otherwise empty room. "You've got a job, put that money to good use!"

"But--I haven't even got--"

"Well then maybe you shouldn't have been spending all that money on your shirts and hair shit, huh? I told you, responsibility is what makes a good man and you can't waste money on acting like a fag, son. You've got to make something of yourself,"

"I just--"

"You're a strong man, you can get this all out to your car, right?" Neil asked, but nodded and went towards the door anyway.

Billy felt like his head was being split open, he had maybe $20 and there was no way that all of his stuff would fit into his car. There wasn't enough time to think, he didn't even know what time it was, his clock probably packed away in a bag or crate. He was only wearing underwear and a t-shirt, for christ's sake.

Neil turned at the door, gave a small smile that made his mustache curl upward, "Happy birthday, son,"

#billy hargrove #neil hargrove #tw neil hargrove #stranger things #harringrove #not really harringrove but I feel like it gets more reads if I tag it as such #mediocre—writing #mw harringrove #tw f slur #tw neil hargrove #tw abuse mention

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dlwritings · 3 years

Text

Casual | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - frat boy!Tom x reader word count - 1,917 warnings - language A/N - for the anon who requested x

summary - You and Tom are casually seeing each other, but you want it to be more. When Valentine’s Day comes around, you’re struck by how you can share a bed with someone and still be so lonely.

Tom fell onto the bed beside you with a huff. You rested your hands on your stomach and worked on catching your breath. Your body was covered in sweat, and at this point you couldn’t tell if it was yours or Tom’s. You looked over at him as he pushed himself out of bed and tugged his boxers up his legs.

You and Tom had been doing this dance for a while now. You met in one of your classes and clicked instantly. You would go out for drinks from time to time, but most of your time together was spent in bed. It was hard to have any fun when your roommate was over, but Tom was part of a frat, so he had a room to himself. This weekend, your roommate was visiting her hometown, so you and Tom decided to take advantage of her absence.

“So,” you said, watching as he pulled on his jeans, “Valentine’s Day’s on Saturday.”

“Is it?” Tom said, zipping up his bottoms. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting up a bit and holding the sheet to your chest. “You have any plans?”

“Well the guys always throw a bachelors’ rager, so that’s probably what I’ll be doing,” he said. Your heart dropped a little, but you did your best to maintain a poker face.

“Would you want to -I don’t know- hang out maybe?” you said. “Maybe we could get dinner or something.” Tom sighed and pulled his shirt over his head.

“Why?” he asked.

“What do you mean why?” you said. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Valentine’s Day is a bullshit holiday some sad couple invented to spice up their love life,” he said. “Besides, we’re not even together.”

“Well, not technically,” you said, “but, I mean, you’re the only guy I’m seeing right now, and I don’t think you’re sleeping with anyone else-”

“How do you know I’m not sleeping with anyone else?” he snapped. At this, your expression shifted.

“Are you?” you asked.

“So what if I am?” he asked. “We never said this was serious or exclusive.”

“I know, I know,” you said. “I just thought-”

“I’ve never given you the implication that I want this to be anything more than the occasional fuck,” he said. “If you read into it more, that’s on you.”

“Tom, relax,” you said, trying to fight back tears. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” You didn’t want him to see how hurt you were by what he was saying, but deep down you knew he was right. You never established this relationship as anything serious. You were the one who fell for him.

“If you’re making this thing we have to be something more,” he said, “then maybe we should stop.”

“No, Tom,” you said. “That’s not what I want.”

“Whatever,” he said, grabbing his hoodie and shoes. He didn’t stop to put them on before walking towards the door. “I’m done.”

“Done?” you repeated. “Done with what?”

“I’m just done talking about this,” he said. “I’ll text you later, alright?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, hanging your head. “Alright.” You heard the door close as you squeezed your eyes shut. Still, some tears managed to escape as you let out a quiet sniff.

Tom was right. The way that you were feeling was on you. If you had just accepted this for what it was, you wouldn’t have been so hurt. But no. You had to catch feelings. So what could you do? Keep sleeping with him and pushing down how you felt? Cut him off completely?

You chose the ladder.

You had your fight on Monday, and he texted you already on Tuesday. You ignored it. You ignored every text he sent to your phone and the two times he tried to call you. The second time, he left a message. You didn’t listen to the voicemail, but you didn’t have it in you to delete it. You kept the little red notification, just in case you changed your mind.

All week, you saw couples everywhere on campus. It was like they had multiplied overnight. They were cuddled up at the library, holding hands around campus, making out in the dorm hallways. They were everywhere. It hurt seeing them, knowing you couldn’t have that with the one person you wanted it with. Sure, you knew there were other fish in the sea, but there was only one Tom, and unfortunately, that was who your heart wanted.

On Friday, your roommate left yet again for another weekend at home. You collapsed on your bed, flicking through Netflix while inhaling a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Once you settled on an episode of Schitt’s Creek, you picked up your phone and stared at that red notification again. After a few moments of contemplating, you finally clicked it.

“Hey (Y/N),” Tom’s voice said through your phone. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened the other day. I know I came off like a dick, and I didn’t mean to. Could you just text me? I just-” He sighed. “I just want to know that you’re okay. I know we’re not official or whatever, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” He sighed again, and you could picture him running a hand through his hair. “Okay, I guess that’s it. Please text me, alright? I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

You stared at your phone with tears in your eyes before playing the message again. You didn’t want to text him, but you could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Deep down, Tom was a good guy. Again, it wasn’t his fault you were feeling this way. He never led you on. The relationship was what it was. He had always been up front about that.

You opened your messages and clicked on the thread you had with Tom, then typed a simple message: I’m fine

It may not’ve been the whole truth, but it was what he wanted to hear. That much you knew. Tom was a pretty easy guy to figure out. After all this time spent with him, you could read him like a book.

What you didn’t know was that Tom could read you just as well. He knew he fucked up when he so harshly rejected your Valentine’s offer. He just didn’t know how to deal with the fact that he had fallen for you.

Yes. He was a walking cliche.

But unlike his stereotypical counterparts, Tom was going to do something to fix his mistake. He wasn’t going to wait for the two of you to get into an even bigger fight or for you to burst into tears in front of him. No. He’d nip this in the bud.

When Saturday came around, you had an evening shift at the library where you worked. You spent the morning in bed watching Hannah Montana on Disney+ to distract yourself from the day. You were the only one on the evening shift, so you spent those hours alone, save a few patrons. You assumed the people who came in were all single like you with nothing better to do on Valentine’s Day than sit in a corner and work on homework or shove their nose in a new paperback.

When you clocked out, you drove home in silence, not bothering to turn on the radio. You knew you’d inevitably hear cheesy love songs, and you weren’t in the mood for that. Your dorm was pretty quiet, which didn’t surprise you. Most of the people in your hall had significant others. Honestly, you were glad you didn’t see more couples hiding in the halls with their tongues down each other’s throats. You fumbled for your keys and tried to unlock your dorm room only to find it was already unlocked, which didn’t make any sense. You always, always locked the door behind you. Still, you didn’t have it in you to be bothered. You opened the door but quickly froze.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?”

Sitting on your bed was Tom surrounded by tiny boxes of Chinese takeout. He jumped off the bed as soon as you walked in and approached you. You stopped in the hallway to kick your shoes off. “I’m here to apologize,” he said, “and to spend Valentine’s night with you.”

“Why?” you snapped. “Because you feel bad?”

“Yes,” he said. Quickly he added, “But no. It’s more than that. I-” He was stuttering, so he took a deep breath to collect himself. “I like you, (Y/N).”

“Don’t,” you said, not hesitating for a second but noticing your voice crack. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Lie to me,” you whispered. “I don't need your pity, Tom. I don’t want it.”

“My pity?”

“Obviously you’ve figured out by now that I’m crazy about you,” you said, “and now you feel bad, so you’re trying-”

He cut you off by taking a step towards, grabbing your cheeks, and pressing his lips to yours.

You pushed him back.

“Quit it!” you huffed.

“What?” he said. “What am I doing wrong?”

“I told you, I don’t want-”

“Damn it, (Y/N), would you just listen to me?” he said. When you didn’t immediately snap back, he sighed. “I’m, I really, really like you. I like spending time with you, but not just fucking you. I like how you scrunch your nose and purse your lips when you’re studying, and then do that thing with your pencil. Hold it there like a mustache, you know?” You pressed your lips together to keep from smiling, which made him grin. “And I like talking to you about things. About music and movies and books and, and family. You know you’re the only person I tell my family problems to? Not even Harrison hears them. Only you, because you’re the only person who, who, I don’t know, (Y/N). You listen to me, and you always try and help me see things from every perspective. You don’t just automatically side with me. You’re not afraid to call me out on my shit, and I, I love that about you. And I love how smart you are. You always challenge me to think harder and try harder. You make me into a better person. I don’t just love you, I love who I am when I’m with you.”

Your eyes grew wide at his words, and Tom furrowed his eyebrows. “What?” he asked. “What’d I say wrong?”

“You said you love me,” you whispered. Tom’s cheeks heated up, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Did I?” he asked. You nodded, and he did the same. When he noticed you were smiling, he smiled too. “Well do you believe me then?” he asked. “You don’t think I’m making this up anymore? You believe I love you? Because I do.” You bit your lip and nodded again.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I believe you, Tommy.” He smiled and put his hand on your cheek.

“Are you gonna yell at me if I kiss you again?” he asked.

You giggled. “No. I won’t.”

“Good,” he whispered. You smiled as he leaned closer and brushed his nose against yours before closing the gap between you in a kiss. Before it could get too heated, Tom pulled away. “Okay,” he said. “I brought Chinese food and some chick flicks you’ve talked about. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Tommy.”

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

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#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #angst #fluff #marvel #request

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hp-nextgen-fest · 3 years

Text

2020 HP Next Gen Fest Anonymous Masterlist

Here is the complete Anonymous Masterlist for the 2020 @hp-nextgen-fest! Reveals will be going up next Monday on November 30, so there is still plenty of time to make your way through any entries you might have missed. Don't forget to leave some comments on these amazing creations to let the authors and artists know how much you've enjoyed their hard work! :D

ART

AcciDental Magic [Rose, Hugo, & Grandparents | General] Hermione and Ron are called away for a case and left without their usual child-minder when Molly falls ill. Hermione’s parents step up to keep Hugo and Rose, in spite of Hermione’s warning that the two little ones have some big issues with accidental magic. The story is told comic book style, with illustrations and voice bubbles.

Woke up married! [James Sirius/Teddy | General] They get well and truly bladdered at Albus's stag do and wake up in bed together with matching wedding bands...

Sunday Practice [James Sirius/Teddy | General] Teddy thought that morning practice on Sunday was going to be something he would soon regret, but things may turn more interesting than expected.

Introduction [Albus, Severus, & Albus Severus | General] Albus Severus Potter gets to know the men he's named for by asking them about the experiences, memories, and motives that shaped their lives.

Eyecandy [James Sirius/Teddy | General] After months of extensive Auror training, Teddy comes with the Potters to the beach. James. Cannot. Stop. Staring. At. Teddy. Shirtless.

FIC

We Keep Loving Anyway [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Explicit | 7.1k] After Albus finds out Scorpius is part vampire he can’t stop thinking about being bitten. He can’t stop thinking about Scorpius in general, but that’s been the case since he was fifteen. At least, when it comes to Scorpius he’s used to not getting what he wants. He’s happy with what he has, or at least, comfortable. That is until he accidentally asks for it, then it all starts to change.

The perks of Veritaserum [James Sirius/Teddy | Explicit | 5.1k] James drank a long-lasting version of Veritaserum and is miserable and Teddy is having the time of his life. That is, until they’re both having the time of their lives.

Thunderstruck [Charlie/Teddy | Explicit | 2.6k] There’s not a lot for dragon tamers to do when stuck inside during a storm, but looking at this particular new recruit―well, Charlie can’t help but think of a few ways they could pass the time.

Hair Today, Hair Tomorrow [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Mature | 1.7k] Away on a book tour Albus Severus Malfoy grows a very creepy mustache, much to the horror of his still at home husband Scorpius Malfoy.

Mission in Nairn [Draco/Lily Luna | Explicit | 7k] Lily Luna Potter is paired with Draco Malfoy for her first Auror Mission. On their last night, she decides to act on the lingering tension that had been building up between them.

No Other Alpha But You [Albus Severus/James Sirius | Explicit | 7.1k] Scorpius Malfoy has applied to be Albus' heat partner. There's no way James is letting that happen.

The Scorpion King [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Explicit | 3.8k] Scorpius Malfoy, AKA the Scorpion King, has ruled Britain ever since his father turned his sights to conquering Europe. With his right-hand man and most trusted advisor, Albus Potter, Scorpius has a life of elegance and power. But he's had enough of the beautiful women that usually grace his bed. Scorpius has decided he wants something else in bed. Something more. Scorpius Malfoy wants Albus Potter.

Islands of the Upper Air [Lily Luna/Luna | General | 1.5k] Lily Luna has never liked her namesake, or her strange and sometimes absurd way of looking at the world. But a weekend full of ancient rituals and mountain forests is an eye opener, in more ways than one.

Expecto Patronum!! [James Sirius/Teddy | Mature | 45.7k] James Potter had always known exactly what he wanted; to open a pub of his own, maybe travel the world, and live a simple life with the only man he’d ever loved. For years he waited, quietly determined to help Teddy see what could be between them. But just when everything he’d ever dreamed of was finally within his reach, it was ripped away in an instant. With Teddy missing, and presumed dead, James is left to pick up the pieces. John has no idea what he wants. He doesn’t even know who he is. But when he hears a strikingly familiar voice – on an otherwise ordinary day – he sets out to discover everything he can about the man that occupies his dreams. And Harry, well, Harry just wants to put his failures behind him. Until a series of unexpected events forces him to reexamine a case that he’d given up on solving. With the help of an unexpected ally, he just might find the answers he’s been looking for.

lily's potter [Lily Luna/Lysander & Lily Luna/Draco | Mature | 8.3k] "But what if I keep it? What’s the contingency plan there?” She took a seat next to Lily. She spoke slowly, as if she was thinking about it for the first time, too. “Well, I mean, you keep your baby. You raise it. You love it. It goes on to do wonderful things because it’s a Potter.” Lily snorted. “It’s a Potter?” “Why not? I mean it’s just as much you as whoever is the father. Why shouldn’t it be a Potter first?”

Snaked a Claim [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Teen | 1.6k] Everyone knew Albus was gay from age five when he would dramatically swoon every time Goncalo Flores the Quidditch player was mentioned. Twenty years later and Harry still tells the tale - much to Al’s embarrassment.

And I Fell Heavy (Into Your Arms) [James Sirius/Teddy | Explicit | 9.1k] When James Sirius Potter travels to America for three weeks, the turquoise-haired Healer Teddy Lupin misses his boyfriend very much indeed. Luckily, Teddy has (sexy) floo calls, charmed obsidian pendants and hastily made chastity promises to keep him busy. Based on the following prompt: Absence makes the heart grow fonder... Right? Smutty phone!sex? Longing letters? All up to you!

Dirty Duelling [Albus Severus/Draco | Explicit | 6.1k] Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want (Or — fucked up Dirty Dancing with wand fights)

Albus’ Private Lesson of Sex Education [Albus Severus/James Sirius/Teddy | Explicit | 4.5k] Albus has some doubts about sex. Luckily he has an older brother, who can initiate him. How does this lesson go? James will be the teacher, Albus his good and obedient student and Teddy will be more than happy to serve them as a learning tool. In which a delicious Teddy sandwich is served.

Four Reasons [James Sirius/Teddy | General | 8.1k] There were a couple of things James should've considered more seriously before coming back to work at Hogwarts as the new Flying Instructor. His dad being the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor there, for one. The fact that he hadn't really flown since a career-ending injury had put an abrupt end to his Quidditch fame two years ago, for another. His ridiculous, teenage crush on Teddy Lupin, his friend and Hogwarts' newest Charms professor, perhaps most of all.

An Interlude [Lavender/Victoire | Explicit | 4.9k] Victoire is supposed to be chasing a serial killer, not shagging her uncle’s dead ex-girlfriend.

Mint & Apples [Harry/Teddy | Explicit | 4.3k] Teddy Lupin's not-quite-wolf has chosen Harry Potter as his mate, that's all. He hasn't got a crush on his best friend's father, really. He also definitely isn't obsessed with Harry Potter's scent.

This is Love [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Explicit | 24.8k] Most of Albus’s bad life decisions can be summed up in a word: James. When he got a shitty tattoo in the Fifth Year—done by some bloke in a dirty flat—well, that was James’s idea. When he got picked up by Aurors for doing hallucinogens—James was the one who’d convinced him to do them at a party. That time they stole the flying motorbike Dad gave to Teddy—James was the one who insisted it was a rite of passage to drive it over London at dawn. Neither Dad nor Teddy was impressed with that explanation. Now, here Albus is living another bad choice that was born of James’s influence.

The Balance Between Studying and Relaxing [Rose/Teddy | Explicit | 3.7k] Rose has been studying non-stop for her upcoming barrister exam. With Hermione attending Hugo’s Quidditch trials for moral support and Ron away on business, there’s only one person available to keep an eye on her. And Teddy is only too happy to take the role.

The last ones to know [Albus Severus/Scorpius | General | 5.2k] Albus and Scorpius have a very close relationship. Everyone can see it. Perhaps they are the last ones to know jus how close they are.

You've Got A Second Chance (You Could Go Home) [James Sirius/Teddy | Teen | 16k] “What about James?” James, dear Merlin, not James, not again. His boy, his son, the brightest star in the constellation of Harry’s patchwork family, not him. “I think he’s relapsed.” – They tried this when James was nineteen and Teddy was twenty five. It crashed and burned. Teddy ran away to Finland and James... well Teddy's about to find out what happened to James, now that he's back two years later.

Falling for You [James Sirius/Scorpius | General | 1.2k] Scorpius didn't care about Quidditch until he saw James Sirius on a broom.

Heart-Shaped Ottoman [Draco/Teddy | Explicit | 6.3k] Draco has had interns before, but none so bothersome as Teddy Lupin.

Living With Our Eyes Half Open [James Sirius & Scorpius | Teen | 5.5k] James didn’t mean to get his brother-in-law kidnapped alongside him that morning, but that is definitely what happened.

Faim [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Explicit | 9.6k] "So, this is the city of love!" Scorpius declared, adjusting the straps on his backpack. Albus wrinkled his nose. "City of pigeons, more like," he corrected, stepping around another fat, grey bird Or: Scorbus go to France.

Unexpected [Lily Luna/Pansy | Explicit | 1.2k] Draco and Harry's engagement party brings about an unexpected, but not unwelcome, event.

Remember to Forget [Albus Severus/James Sirius | Mature| 17.5k] The moment they kissed, James and Albus knew that they'd never be able to live without this -- too in love to walk away. Years later, and well into adulthood, the possible repercussions of their relationship feel very real and very scary. Without the strength to break it off, they're left with a single solution: a company that specializes in erasing and altering memories. Now the only thing left to do, is to say goodbye.

#jeddy #scorbus #jalbus #scames #jorpius #cheddy #dralbus #HP Next Generation #hp femslash #hp next gen #harry potter next gen #hpnextgenfest #hp cross gen #mod post #anonymous masterlist #2020 fest

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max-is-tired · 4 years

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It’s Fine By Me (If You Never Leave)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Words: 2.062

Warnings: Sympathetic Remus, swearing, crying, kissing

Notes: I... might be starting to grow lowkey in love with Dark Sides ships sdkjvnsjkfvn

Anyway!! here is a new fic, not even a week after the last one I posted -miracles exist apparently. A big thank you to my boyfriend @afulldeckofaces for catching the mistakes that slipped past 3am me skvnsfjv you’re the best babe <3

I hope you guys like it!!

Commission me!! Buy me a coffee!! Join my Discord server!!

If you had told 15 years old Virgil that one day he would’ve fallen in love with none other than Remus Grimm, he would’ve probably ended up cracking a rib or two by laughing too much.

And yet, look at him now -19 years old ad head over hills for his best friend, who just happened to have had to move two towns over because of college.

God, feelings sucked.

Virgil groaned in frustration, letting his forehead hit the textbook lying open in front of him with a muffled thump.

He was tired. He was so. Fucking. Tired. Tired of college, tired of this stupid crush that kept stubbornly refusing to go away, tired of his stupid anxiety and tired of having to deal with all of this without his best friend by his side.

Yes, he was grumpy because he hadn’t seen Remus in more than a month, sue him.

As if sensing his worsening mood, his phone buzzed, breaking Virgil out of his thoughts. Letting out a series of annoyed grumbles and half-assed curses, Virgil snatched his phone from where it was lying on the desk, Remus’ wild grin staring back at him from the screen.

It was a photo they had taken that summer, just before Remus had had to leave for college. Roman had been the one taking it, the day Patton had decided to drag -for some more literally than others- their entire group out for some ice cream.

Remus had thrown his arm around Virgil’s shoulder, proudly showing off his chocolate mustache as the other fumbled with his cone to keep it from falling to the ground.

Virgil remembered glaring daggers at him for a total of two seconds before Remus’ waggling eyebrows did him in and sent him in a snickering fit.

Virgil remembered the weight of Remus’ arm around his shoulder, his warmth seeping through his shirt in a way that somehow, didn’t make him uncomfortable -he had never felt uncomfortable with Remus, not once, not even under the hot summer Florida weather in the middle of July.

He only saw that photo for the first time later that night, staring at Remus’ wide grin and sparkling green eyes as his heart hammered in his chest.

The realization had crashed over him like a tsunami, every thought in his head screeching to a halt as he slowly became more and more aware of the fact that he was very much in love with his best friend.

”Of course,” Virgil remembered thinking, staring at his phone with wide eyes, ”who else could it be?”

And boy if that thought alone hadn’t scared the living shit out of him.

For a moment, Virgil let his mind linger on the memory of that sunny afternoon, a soft smile stretching on his face.

Then, he swiped up and clicked on the notification.

”You up for a little chat?” read Remus’ message, followed by a string of random emojis Virgil didn’t even try to decipher -he knew it would probably be useless since they rarely made sense in the first place.

Virgil frowned, threw a considering glance at his textbook and the various papers still scattered on the desk and shrugged -it was not like he was getting anything done anyway.

“sure, why not”

Not even ten seconds later Virgil’s phone lit up with an incoming call, the first notes of My Immortal filling the room.

“Hey there Spider boy!” came Remus’ voice from the other side of the line.

Immediately, Virgil felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, relaxing back on his chair as he pushed himself away from the cluttered desk.

“Sup, Trashman,” he answered, not even bothering to fight down the tired grin tugging at his lips -Remus was not there to tease him about it anyway, so.

“Wow, don’t sound too excited to hear from me.”

Virgil snorted, his smile turning more and more genuine as the seconds passed.

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later. But really, you sound like shit -everything alright? Are there some bones that I need to break?”

Virgil groaned, leaning back as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Now that he wasn’t panicking over his homework exhaustion was slamming down on him full-force, making it very hard for him to string together a coherent thought let alone think about filtering whatever shit was coming out of his mouth.

“It’s just… fucking everything, man. College is kicking my ass, my anxiety is kicking my ass and I’m just- I’m just tired, you know?”

From the other side of the line, Virgil heard Remus hiss in sympathy at his words.

“Yeah, shit, that sounds rough as hell.”

A beat of silence, and then-

“I can drive over and burn down your campus if you want. No college, no classes. Boom, airtight.”

Virgil couldn’t have stopped the amused snickers leaving his mouth even if he’d tried, shoulders shaking with his laughter as he fought to stifle it down.

“Thanks for the very tempting offer, but I think I’ll give it a pass for now.”

Then, he sighed, feeling his smile slip away as he stared at the ceiling, his sadness starting to creep up on him again. “... I miss you,” he whispered -he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but he had and now just couldn’t stop.

“I just- I miss our daily escapades and you sneaking into my room at the oddest hours of the day because you decided for some reason that simply using the front door was too mainstream.”

Virgil took in a ragged breath, distantly feeling his eyes start to sting with unshed tears.

“I miss being able to just call you when everything gets too much with the knowledge you’ll be knocking at my window in five minutes max. I miss having you physically by my side every day, I miss my best friend and I feel so fucking bad about it because you’re following your dreams and I’m proud of you, I really am but I also want you right here by my side and-”

Virgil audibly snapped his mouth shut, pressing a hand over his lips to stifle his sobs as tears streamed down his face out of his control.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, moving the phone away from his ear.

“Virgil-” Remu voice called, sounding worried and maybe a little desperate. but before he could say anything more, Virgil hung up, letting his room fall back into silence before throwing the phone somewhere on his bed.

Virgil bit down hard on his lip, but he could do nothing against the sobs that kept bubbling in his throat. One escaped, then another and soon Virgil could do nothing but curl up with his head hidden between his knees, yearning for the one person that could not help him the way he wanted him to.

+++

Virgil didn’t exactly remember when he fell asleep, his memory being somewhat hazy in-between the tears that seemed to never end and the way he kept feeling like something was trying to squeeze him to death from the inside-out.

What he did remember, however, was waking up to a very familiar sound -one he’d thought he wouldn’t get to hear again in quite some time.

Initially, during those few moments floating between dreams and awakening, when reality hasn’t quite set in yet and sleep still hangs heavily from your eyelids, Virgil had almost believed he was still dreaming, his own vain hopes playing cruel tricks to his brain.

But the seconds kept ticking and Virgil kept hearing the goddamn sound, so there were only two possible explanations -either someone was trying to break into his room, or-

Virgil bolted up, almost tumbling off the chair he had fallen asleep on -which, ouch- in his haste to get to the window.

And sure enough, there Remus was, with his signature manic grin as he waved at Virgil from the tree branch he was perched on.

Virgil stared, hands moving almost on their own as they went through the familiar motions of unlocking the window to let his best friend in.

“Thanks, it was starting to get chilly out!” Remus chirped, climbing in with practiced ease and plopping himself down on the bed.

“What the fuck,” Virgil answered, still trying to process what was going on.

“I- you- what???” Virgil felt like his brain was about to implode, his gaze flickering from Remus to the window and then back to Remus again.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing here? It’s fucking two am or something like that and you live like, three hours away!”

Remus shrugged, shuffling around so he could sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

“My best friend is hurting, why would I not come?”

“It’s the middle of the week, you have classes tomorrow,” Virgil weakly pointed out, starting to feel a little choked up with all the emotions coursing through him at once.

“It’s Thursday, or Friday morning is you wanna be accurate,” Remus easily countered. “I know for a fact that neither you nor I have anything important going on tomorrow and the weekend is class free, so I’m going to crash here until Monday morning since we both have afternoon classes. And no, this is not up to debate. It’s happening, Spider Boy.”

Virgil blinked, staring at him with wide eyes as his heart hammered in his chest.

There was a tingling sensation running through all of his body, electrifying in the best of ways. It felt like fire and ice and water altogether, filling him up and up until-

“I love you,” Virgil blurted out, unable to stop the words from tumbling out any longer.

Remus stared for a second before a dazzling grin took over his face.

“I love you too!” he chirped, grinning so wide Virgil distantly worried if it didn’t hurt to pull at the muscles that much.

“No, uh-” Virgil stuttered, all too aware of how flustered he probably looked at that moment.

He bit his lip, pondering his next course of action. He could still salvage this, just let it go and make Remus believe he meant it in a platonic way and nothing more, burying his feelings in the deepest and darkest corner of his heart. But on the other hand… did he really want to do that?

“I meant in a romantic way, Remus,” he finally admitted, looking everywhere but at his best friend, “I love you as in I want to be your boyfriend and kiss you and stuff.”

Silence fell, filling the room as Virgil kept carefully avoiding Remus’ eyes.

God, he’d ruined everything, didn’t he?

Then he saw a familiar hand reach out and grab a fistful of his hoodie, firmly tugging him forward before he could express his confusion.

Virgil let out a startled yelp, stumbling towards the bed until he found himself face-to-face with his best friend. Still grinning, Remus winked before leaning in, erasing the last few inches separating them as he kissed him square on the lips.

Virgil froze, eyes as wide as saucers as he tried to comprehend whatever the fuck was going on. But before he could do that, Remus pulled back, slowly letting his eyes slide open again as a small, soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips -it was such a strange expression to see on Remus’ face, but Virgil found that he didn’t mind it at all, as long as it was directed at him.

“I know what you meant,” Remus chuckled, pecking Virgil on the lips again for good measure, “and I love you too. Now, are you gonna actually get on the bed and cuddle or do I need to drag you under the covers myself?”

Virgil let out a startled snort, feeling like he was reeling from the last five minutes alone. Still, he dutifully climbed on the bed and flopped down, feeling his exhaustion start to creep back on him again.

Remus grinned, laying down beside Virgil and immediately cuddling as close as humanly possible.

“Comfy?” Virgil teased, moving his hand to gently card it through the other’s hair.

“Hush boyfriend, pillows don’t talk,” Remus grumbled, already halfway gone as he somehow snuggled even closer.

Virgil hummed, leaning down to leave a kiss in Remus’ hair.

Boyfriend, uh? Well, it did have a nice ring to it.

#sanders sides #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #virgil angst #swearing #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

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nikki-writes-stuff · 4 years

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Chaser - Part One

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader, Gang Leader!Din Djarin x Bartender!Reader

Summary: No one knows his name, and no one knows his face, but the man who leads one of the most powerful gangs in New York from behind an infamous mask is still feared throughout the city. You, on the other hand, are just a waitress at the club he owns, someone who’s only just barely dipped her toe into the treacherous water of New York’s underworld. But that doesn’t stop your boss from taking a liking to you, and if you weren’t so terrified of all that his attentions could mean for you, maybe you would notice that fear isn’t the only emotion your employer stirs up within you.

A/N: Hello, everyone! I hope y’all enjoy this - the very first part to the very first fic I’ve ever written about The Mandalorian! Any and all feedback is appreciated - this is my first time writing for Din Djarinn, and even though my love for him is as deep and powerful as the Mississippi, I had some trouble finding his vibe while I was writing this. Let me know if I’m on the right track! (Also, if your name happens to be Rachelle, I apologize in advance. Please just...skip over a certain couple of lines in this story. You’ll know what I’m talking about towards the end.)

You could feel the throbbing of a quick, staccato bassline in your chest; you always could while you were working. The Boss liked the keep the music loud, and for good reason. It was the same reason why smoking was not only permitted but actively encouraged – the thick smoke and thumping music made it all the more difficult to hear and to see what happened in the dark corners of Club Razor Crest. Here, there were only two rules – don’t start shit, and keep your mask on. As long as they followed those two basic principles, the Boss’s patrons were welcome to conduct whatever business they saw fit in the crushed velvet booths and intentionally shadowed halls of his underworld playground.

With the tips of your red, glossy fingernails, you adjusted your mask now, pulling the plastic away from your heated skin by just a centimeter or two. You could have groaned from how good it felt to have cool, fresh air rush in to caress your sweaty forehead; after a week of working at the club, you’d definitely learned why anonymity was so important in a place like this, but you still dreaded putting the blasted thing on in the evenings before your shift.

Greta, one of the other girls who worked there, strutted past you, looking light as a feather as she waltzed around in her eight-inch heels with a tray of drinks balanced above her head. You, by contrast, knew that you had to look as clumsy as a newborn deer in your own stilettos; just like the mask, they were a mandatory part of your uniform that you still hadn’t gotten used to, and though Greta and the other girls had promised you that the constant pain in your feet would soon start to fade, your soles still ached painfully with every shift of your weight.

“Mask on,” your coworker whispered to you in passing. “Boss is here.”

You’d been just about to explain that you weren’t taking it off, that you’d just needed some air, but the words died on your lips when you heard the last part of her warning. Your spine straightened of its own accord, and the hand on your mask promptly fell down to hang by your waist. Scanning the space, you tried to make out the infamous man you’d heard so much about through the dim lighting and hazy air.

“Where?” you asked, but either she ignored you or just didn’t hear, because she kept on walking to her table without sparing you so much as another glance.

You gulped before stiffly making your way to the bar, slipping past the ‘Employees Only’ gate before gathering together the four glasses you’d need for your table’s order. You let your hands and body go on autopilot as you set about assembling their drinks; typically, the waitresses would just drop off their order slips to one of the bartenders and wait for them to make it, but you’d mentioned at your job interview that you had some bartending experience and didn’t mind helping out with the cocktail mixing.

From there, the head bartender, Quill, had sat at the bar and watched you make him an old fashioned right in the middle of your interview. With trembling hands, you’d done so, feeling the older man’s eyes on you all the while as he stroked his bushy white mustache. After one sip of it, he’d nodded his head, and you’d felt relief wash through you as he threw back the rest of the drink.

“You start on Monday,” was all he’d said.

Now, as you grabbed some triple sec from the top shelf, you caught a glimpse of him watching you out of the corner of your eye, and you turned to give him a smile. Quill had been working at Club Razor Crest for as long as anyone could remember, and he was the only person inside the building who didn’t wear a mask; evidently, him and the owner went way back. He was quiet – gruff, even – but for some reason you liked the grumpy older man. And, if you were correctly reading the gleam in his eyes as he looked at you from behind his thick, bushy white eyebrows, you thought that he’d taken a liking to you, too. Or, at least, to your old-fashioneds.

“How’s it going, Quill?” you asked, focusing once again on the long island iced tea you were making. “Busy night?”

You were expecting nothing more than a grunt in response; that was all most people got from him, and ever since he’d hired you, you hadn’t heard anything else, either. But instead, he opened his mouth to speak, only talking loud enough for you to just barely be able to hear him over the music.

“After you finish those drinks, leave ‘em here,” he instructed. “Boss just arrived with some of his friends, and he requested you to serve ‘em.”

You nearly dropped the bottle of rum in your hands, one that was worth more than an entire week’s worth of pay, and your hands scrambled to get a firmer grip on it. Shakily setting it down on the counter, you turned to Quill with wide eyes, your lips parted in shock.

“The Boss requested me to serve them?” Your voice was so high-pitched that it cracked as you said ‘me’, and you cleared your throat before trying once again. “Why does he want me? I’ve never even met him before.”

At that, Quill let out a sigh and turned to you, pursing his lips together until they almost disappeared under his large, unkempt mustache.

“…He likes old-fashioneds,” he shrugged, the corner of his lips jumping up so quickly that you almost missed the half-smile he’d given you. That would have been enough to perturb you for the rest of the evening; you hadn’t seen him smile at anyone after an entire week of working there – not even customers. But, as it was, nothing could cool the anxiety welling up in you as you finished making the rest of your drinks.

“I wonder where he heard about them,” you remarked, and you thought you caught Quill glance at you sheepishly in your peripheral vision.

Your eyes flitted over the room, looking for his booth; someone had said something to you on your first day about the table he kept reserved for himself and his ‘guests’, but you’d forgotten its location completely after the whirlwind of your first day at this new, bizarre job.

After finishing the four drinks and setting them on a tray, you turned towards Quill to ask where the Boss would be sitting. But, an idea stirred in your mind, and on impulse you grabbed a small glass before scanning the selection of bourbons and whiskeys the bar had to offer. Biting your lip, you felt eyes on the back of your head as you perused the different brands, but after settling on a good blend of the two, you turned around to find no one looking at you. Quill was busy taking some drunk guy’s order, and the other patrons at the bar were too busy with their own drinks or conversations to pay you any mind.

With a sigh, you shook off the strange feeling and assembled the rest of what you’d need for an old fashioned, hands moving on autopilot as you heard your dad’s voice in your ear. Make sure you only use enough bitters to saturate the sugar, you recalled him teaching you. Between four and six dashes should do the trick unless someone requests something different. Mix it with the sugar until it forms a slurry, and always add the ice in large chunks so it doesn’t get too watered down. Never overmix it once you add the spirits, just a few stirs before putting in a strip of lemon and orange peel.

Your fingers felt sticky as you snapped the citrus peels in half, spraying just a hint of their sweet oils overtop of the cocktail before rubbing them over the glass’s rim. After dropping them into the drink and mixing it one more time, you turned to see Quill watching you with one eyebrow raised.

“What? You said he likes old-fashioneds,” you shrugged. “Um… could you point me in the direction of his booth?”

Once more, he pursed his lips before pointing towards the far right corner of the room.

“It’s the only circular booth we have,” you heard him mutter as you walked away. “Can’t miss it.”

Making sure to thank him over your shoulder, you straightened your back and made your way through the main room of the club. There wasn’t any dancefloor, nor was there a DJ, but in the center of the space, there was a large, ornate fountain. Water no longer ran through it, but fairy lights had been wrapped around its tall structure, throwing shadows and low, scattered light around the entire room. Tables were centered around it, but typically only the low-ranking or occasional civilian patrons sat at them; the booths were almost always occupied by those who had a deal to make, those who had private (which almost always meant dangerous) matters to discuss, or those who were doing something that was, nine times out of ten, incredibly illegal. You’d walked by tables covered in lines of white powder before, their occupants knowing better than to worry about someone seeing and stopping them.

So long as no fights broke out and everyone stayed anonymous, everyone kept to their own business, and the paycheck was too good for you to worry about the moral connotations of working in such a place. No one had so much as laid a finger on you, and no one would, not while you were under the employment of the infamous leader of the Mandalorians.

After rounding the other side of the fountain, you finally saw the booth Quill had been talking about. It was raised up on a small platform, just high enough to be able to see the rest of the club clearly. Its table was, indeed, in the shape of a circle, and a large booth wrapped around three quarters of its diameter. Seated at it were four men and one woman; three of the men and she were wearing masks similar to your own, but while yours only covered your forehead and the upper half of your nose, theirs descended down their cheeks to their jawline, covering the entirety of their face except for their mouths and chins.

As it was, you would have found them extremely intimidating, but now, you didn’t even spare them a second glance. Because your eyes were fixed firmly on the Boss, and you were certain that you could feel his fixed onto you.

No one had told you that his mask covered his entire head, and as you stood there, in shock, you wondered why the fuck no one had thought to warn you about it before. It looked as if it were made out of thin but quality plastic, and various scratches and scrapes covered its grey surface. A voice in the back of your mind whispered that it looked like the goth version of Jim Carrey from The Mask, and you had to fight down a manic giggle as your eyes followed the bottom edge of it, which ran along his jawline, below his ears, and then, presumably, around the back of his head right below his hairline.

The front of the mask was what threw you off the most, though. Instead of having any features carved into it to simulate where a mouth or nose should be, there was only a T-shaped panel of what looked to be black glass. Or was it tinted clear plastic? You felt yourself lean forward, unconsciously squinting to see if you could make out any features beneath it.

You heard someone close by clear their throat, and heat flooded your cheeks as you suddenly realized that you’d been standing there for God-knows how long, just staring at one of the most powerful men in the city. No, staring at his mask.

“I-I,” you stammered, looking down at the floor in horror. It was then that you saw the glass that you were still holding, and you sucked in a breath before looking up again.

“Sorry about that, sir,” you apologized, clearing your throat. You leaned forward, setting the drink down in the center of the table. “Quill mentioned that you liked old-fashioneds, so I took the liberty of-“

You cut yourself off, eyes widening as you realized your second mistake. You looked down at the drink and then up to the Boss’s mask, right at where his mouth would be if he weren’t wearing something that covered it completely. Therefore making it impossible to drink what you’d just offered him.

The horror from just a moment ago paled in comparison to what you felt now as you watched him slowly reach forward, the leather of his black gloves squeaking as he picked up the drink you’d brought for him. His head tilted to the side as he examined it, twisting the glass around between his fingers before setting it down again.

“Lemon and orange, huh?”

You jumped when you heard the voice that came from inside the mask; it was clearer than you’d expected it to sound, but it also had a filtered edge to it. Your guess what that there was some sort of microphone-like device inside of it that projected his voice so it wouldn’t be muffled while he spoke.

“U-um, yes sir,” you nodded, lacing your fingers together and resisting the nervous urge to wring your hands. “That’s how my father taught me how to make them. It adds more of a refreshing aftertaste. Or so I’ve found.”

He let out a short hum, pushing the glass towards the woman seated beside him.

“Was her father right?”

You saw her eyebrows jump up under her mask, but without hesitation she did as instructed, taking a sip of the amber cocktail. Without realizing it, you held your breath as she swallowed, running her tongue along the front of her teeth for a moment as she studied the aftertaste.

“It’s good,” she decided after a moment. “Actually, hold on. That’s really good. Damn. Don’t tell Quill, but I like yours even better than his.”

Relief surged through you, and a smile came to your lips as you let the air rush out of your lungs.

“I promise not to tell him; thank you very much, ma’am,” you nodded, jolting when she let out a loud bark of laughter.

“Ma’am? Pfft.” She turned to the Boss, nudging her shoulder against his as she drained the rest of her drink in one gulp. “Hear that, Mando? She called me ma’am.”

“A decision I’m sure she won’t make again,” he remarked dryly, not even turning towards her as she placed the empty glass at the edge of the table.

“Well. Either way, if you can do that with a drink I don’t even usually like, I’d love to see what you can do with a long island,” the woman grinned. “Think you can do that for me?”

“I actually just made one a few minutes ago,” you informed her; under normal circumstances, you would have felt offended by her question, but something in her smile told you that she didn’t mean it seriously. “What can I get for the rest of you guys?”

From there, you tried your best to recover gracefully from your little bout of foot-in-mouth syndrome. Pulling your small notebook out of the hidden pocket in your dress, you wrote down the rest of their drink orders, noticing that two of the men asked for old-fashioneds. From there, the last of the Boss’s party ordered a whiskey sour, and when you’d turned to ask if he’d like anything as well, he’d simply shaken his head no.

After letting them know you’d be back in just a few minutes, you turned and all but fled to the bar, hands balled up into fists as you approached Quill from behind.

“Why would you tell me,” you demanded, “that he requested me because he wanted to try one of my old-fashioneds if he can’t even drink with that mask on?! Why did you just let me bring that drink over, like an enormous buffoon-“

The older bartender turned around to face you, and you took a step backwards when you saw the wide grin stretched across his face. His shoulders were shaking with barely-controlled laughter, and you watched, stunned, as he fought to gain control over his expression again.

“You were the one who assumed that he wanted to try your drink,” he corrected you, busying himself with salting the rim of a margherita glass. “I never said anything like that, just that he enjoyed them.”

You sputtered in disbelief, throwing your hands up in exasperation before starting on your drink orders.

“So it was just some kind of hazing thing, then, was it?” you asked, not able to deny that you felt a twinge of fondness stir in you after seeing his typical stoic demeanor slip.

Quill snorted, cutting his eyes over to you as you worked side by side with him.

“You think I’d bother with that sorta thing?” You turned to see him watching you with amusement still glittering in his eyes. “Just needed some entertainment to get through the rest of this shift.”

A smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head with a chuckle before returning to the whiskey sour starting to take shape in front of you.

“Well, laugh it up, cuz I’ll have you know I looked like a complete idiot in front of him.”

“I promise you he’s used to that, kid. Don’t worry about it; as long as you get your work done, he won’t pay you a second glance.”

Feeling mildly comforted by his words, you started on the woman’s drink, eyes darting up towards his table. Now that you knew where it was, you could just barely make out the flash of his shiny helmet through the smoke that had settled around the room. Goosebumps ran up and down your arms as, once again, you felt as if you were being watched, and you hastily turned your attention back to drink making.

When all four of them were assembled, you placed them on a tray before stepping out onto the floor once more. You were hyper-aware of the drinks as you balanced them while you walked, and you kept your eyes fixed on only your tray and the ground in front of you. You were not going to spill any of them; you’d already made enough of a fool of yourself, and you were determined not to add a third strike to your record with the Boss.

And, so, you didn’t catch the way his mask had followed your every movement as you crossed towards his table, nor did you notice the knowing smirk the woman beside him was wearing as she glanced between the two of you. You were blissfully unaware of any undue attention to yourself as you passed out each of the drinks respectively before tucking your tray under your arm and turning to the table with a smile.

“Can I get anything else for you guys?” You kept your tone light and friendly, even though you were mentally begging them to not need anything else.

“Just send Quill over; tell him I need to speak with him,” the Boss said. “Cover the bar for him until he gets back.”

“Yes, sir,” you hurriedly assured him.

Biting your lip, you hurried back to the bar and relayed the message to Quill, who just rolled his eyes and set down the glass he’d been polishing.

“Why he can’t walk over on his own two legs is beyond me,” you heard him grumble under his breath.

From there, the rest of your shift went by pretty normally; you made drinks and polished glasses until Quill came back to the bar a few minutes later, once more only answering you with grunts and noncommittal shrugs. He’d waved you off after you’d asked what he wanted, telling you to return to your section but to keep your eyes on the Boss’s table in case they needed anything.

Which they hadn’t. After returning to take their glasses, they’d declined your offer to get them any refills, and when you went to check on them ten minutes after that, they were gone. From there, you only had an hour left until your shift ended at its usual time – 3:30 am. You could have hugged the girl from the morning shift who came to relieve you – as it was, you’d thanked her so profusely for taking over your section that she’d looked worried for you.

“Um… Have a rough night?” she’d asked, eyebrows pinching together under her mask.

“You have no idea,” you sighed, heading towards the back room. “See you around!”

But your walk to the back came to an abrupt halt when Quill called you over, having to shout your name twice before you heard him over the music. Frowning, you walked over to him, leaning against the bar.

“What’s up?”

“Boss wants you to bring an old fashioned to his office,” he grunted, wiping his hands off on a towel. “Something about not getting to try the last one you made.”

You felt the color drain from your face, and you gulped, nodding quickly before making your way around to the other side of the bar.

“Um… Well, I was just about to go home; it was the end of my shift five minutes ago. Could I ask someone else to bring it to him?”

“Boss asked for you specifically,” he shrugged. “It’s on you if you wanna go against his request.”

Well. Shit. You’d made mistakes in your time, but you couldn’t see yourself ever being dumb enough to deny the kingpin of, arguably, the most powerful gang in Brooklyn.

“I…see. Um. Where exactly is his office?”

“Smart choice.”

After making your thousandth old fashioned of the evening, Quill gave you instructions to the office, and though you were still a bit lost on what to do at the end of the third hallway he mentioned, you had a pretty good idea as to where it was located. And so you set out, holding the drink in a white-knuckled fist as you made your way through the twists and turns of the old building.

A few minutes of wandering later found you standing in front of a door made out of solid, dark wood, and a bronze plaque on its surface read Management – Please knock.

“Well,” you whispered under your breath, “here goes nothing.”

You raised your hand and rapped your knuckles against the door, trying to stamp down the butterflies in your gut as you waited for a response. Several seconds passed by, and you bit your lip as you looked around the hallway you were in; the door to the Boss’s office was the only one on this short hallway, but someone had taken the time to put a potted plant next to the door. You smiled, reaching out with one of your fingers to brush against one of its leaves, and it was in that moment that the door rushed open.

You snatched your hand back, as if the plant had burned you, and looked up to see the Boss standing on its other side. After swallowing thickly, you plastered a smile on your face and straightened your posture.

“Hello, sir,” you greeted, holding out his drink. “I brought that old fashioned for you.”

Without a word, the masked man turned on his heel and walked back into the room, gesturing for you to follow him inside.

“Close the door on the way in.”

You paused, heart pounding as you took a step into his office; the two of you were the only ones there. Glancing behind you to the door, your eyes lingered for a second on its handle, wondering what the smartest thing to do here was. If you said no, then he could do so much worse than just fire you. But if you did as he said, well… Anything could happen to you behind that closed door, and how likely was it that the loud club outside would be able to hear you scream?

“Jesus Christ, I’m not gonna shoot you.”

You jumped so hard that you almost spilled his drink, but hearing his voice spurred you to quickly grab the handle and shut the door without another moment’s thought. You turned back to face him the same moment it slammed shut with a bang, and you winced at how loud of a sound it made.

Smooth.

“S-sorry, sir,” you stuttered, hesitantly walking towards him. You held out the glass, looking up at where you hoped his eyes were beneath his helmet. “I hope it lives up to the hype. The drink, that is.”

His shoulders twitched upwards with a short huff of laughter before taking the glass from your hand, the tips of his gloved fingers brushing against yours. You felt heat rise in your cheeks as your eyes fell from his mask, taking in for the first time what he was wearing.

In the low light of the club, you’d thought his suit was black, but now you could see that it was actually a dark forest green instead. The button-down shirt beneath it was white, and the top two buttons of it were undone, showing off a patch of tan skin just below his collarbone. For some second, your eyes lingered on it, inexplicably fascinated by the only bit of skin visible on the man in front of you.

Directly behind the Boss was a large desk cluttered with notebooks, folders, and stacks of various papers and envelopes, and you watched as your employer cleared off a small space to set his glass down on. You were finally able to break out of your bizarre thoughts about his clavicle once he turned back to face you, and you silently hoped that he hadn’t caught you staring at him again.

“Turn around.”

You blinked once, and then twice, before speaking.

“I, um… I don’t understand, sir-“

“Turn around,” he repeated, twirling his finger in the air. “Face the other way.”

Not fully understanding the purpose of such an order, you bit your lip, reminding yourself that he’d told you earlier that he wasn’t going to shoot you. Slowly, you obeyed him, lacing your fingers together and squeezing them tightly. You were now looking right at the door you’d walked in from, the one you were so tempted to walk through right now.

For a moment, the room was quiet save for the sound of your breathing, and you nearly shrieked when you heard his voice from what had to be just inches behind you.

“Don’t look back,” he commanded. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you nodded, noticing a trembling strand of hair out of the corner of your eyes. In fact, your entire body was trembling ever so slightly, and you took a deep breath to try and calm the frantic beating of your heart.

Needing to ground yourself, you looked around at your surroundings, focusing on them instead of what your boss could possibly have in store for you. The walls and floors were a sandy concrete, just like the rest of the club, but there were various personal touches dotted around the space that your eyes lingered on. On either side of the door, there were huge bookcases filled with, yes, books, but also binders and folders and trinkets you wouldn’t have thought a mobster would keep in his office. Things like the small, carved figurine of a horse he had resting next to a copy of Webster’s Dictionary, or the small vase of roses he had balanced on top of a pile of magazines.

After looking over the bookshelves, your eyes scanned the furniture dotted around the room. To your left, there was a black leather couch on top of what had to be a genuine Persian rug. To your right, facing the couch, a loveseat was shoved up against the wall, and hanging above it was a huge mirror in a gilded, ornate frame. As you turned to look at yourself in it, you realized that you could catch a bit of his reflection as well, and you startled when you saw that his hands were on the back of his mask, unsnapping a clasp that held it in place. With a silent gasp, you turned to face forward again, eyes wide.

You held your breath when you heard him pick the glass up again, and it suddenly made sense why he’d asked you to turn around – he just wanted to try the drink without you seeing his face. Your shoulders slumped with relief; you didn’t care if he hated how it tasted. You were just thrilled that he hadn’t brought you back to punish you for staring at him earlier.

There was a long pause as he drank it, and you had to stop yourself from shifting your weight or appearing too restless as you waited for his verdict.

“…Cara was right,” you finally heard, and you gasped at the sound of his pure, unfiltered voice. “Your old-fashioneds are better than Quill’s.”

“Thank you, sir,” you breathed, still recovering from the shock at how rich, how deep, his voice was. “I promise not to tell him.”

“Oh, he already knows,” he assured you. “He told me himself after you got hired.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and you couldn’t fight back a quiet chuckle.

“Quill’s just full of surprises tonight,” you mused.

“Hm. I saw him laughing at you earlier at the bar,” your boss went on, and you heard him pause before something shifted and clicked behind you. “You can turn around again.”

His voice was, once again, the same processed, slightly staticky one you’d heard before, and as you turned around, there was a pang of disappointment in your chest when you saw the mask staring back at you once again.

“People usually have to work here for at least a year before they see him so much as smile,” he went on, turning the glass between his hands as the ice inside clinked together. “And here you are, not even a week in.”

“Well… it’s probably just because I’ve been helping him out behind the bar,” you explained. “I don’t think any of the other girls mix their own-“

“No, it’s not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “He has other bartenders to help him with that, and he hates them just as much as he hates the rest of the workers here. But not you.”

You didn’t know what to say, and so you said nothing, wracking your brain for anything – a thank you, an apology, a party trick – anything that could make the air feel less awkward than it had suddenly become. But, eventually, your boss broke the silence, though you never would have guessed what he’d been about to say.

“You’re not a server anymore,” he declared. “I want you behind the bar full-time now. You can replace, uh…” He tapped his fingers against the lip of the glass, and you saw his head tilt upwards as he thought. “…Rayanne? Rachel?”

“Rachelle?” you supplied weakly.

“I was close enough. You can replace her,” he continued. “She can be demoted to a server to take your place, and you’re promoted to bartender to take hers.”

“B-but, sir, I,” you stammered, adjusting your mask as you took a step towards him, “I can’t just steal Rachelle’s job; she’s been working here for three years-“

“And Cara still hates her long islands,” he once again cut you off. “I’ll have Quill email you a new schedule.”

Your mouth was open, but no words came out as you stared at the blank slate where his face should be; this wasn’t really such a bad thing, right? You’d gotten the position honestly, and Rachelle had never been particularly nice to you, anyways.

“…Thank you, sir,” you finally said. “I… I appreciate this opportunity.”

“Mm. How much do you wanna make?”

You pressed your lips together, your nose scrunching up as you mentally did the math.

“Um… Does $13 an hour work?”

Your employer snorted, shaking his head before taking a step towards you. You froze as he reached for your wrist, being surprisingly gentle as he brought your hand up between the two of you, and as you looked up, you knew that his eyes were boring into yours, even if you couldn’t see them. You found that you couldn’t look away as he pressed his empty glass into your hands, making sure your fingers were wrapped securely around it before pushing his hands into his pockets.

“Remind me,” he exhorted, “to never let you negotiate a deal for me.”

You blinked rapidly as he backed away, brain still fizzling a bit from how close he’d just been to you. The spicy scent of his cologne still lingered in your nostrils as he turned back to his desk, and it was only when he leaned against it and inclined his head towards you that your mind caught up with what he’d just said. What had been wrong with $13 an hour? Was it too low or too high? Had you just screwed yourself?

“Um…”

You watched his chest rise and fall with a sigh, but you could have sworn you heard a smile in his voice as he spoke next.

“Report to Quill tomorrow at the beginning of your shift,” he instructed. “You’re getting $15 an hour; he can tell you more about your benefits.”

Too low, then. You paused, not knowing what to say, and, he tiled his head towards the side as he waited for your response.

“…Did you just say benefits?”

This time, it was a full-blown laugh that you managed to coax out of him, and a tentative, hopeful grin spread over your lips as you watched him nod his head.

“Yes, I did,” he confirmed. “Now go home; get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, sir…”

With that, you turned around, opened the door, and floated down the hall to the break room. In fact, after grabbing your things and getting in your car, you floated the entire way home. It was only when you reached for your steering wheel that you realized you were still clutching his glass in your left hand, but you didn’t bother bringing it back; what was one missing glass out of the hundreds, if not thousands, the club already owned?

_____________________

Din sat at his desk for a while after that, half-heartedly doing the least glamorous part of his job – paperwork. Over the years, he’d done a number of horrible things to even worse people, but he still hadn’t hated any of it – the arson, the beatings, the murder – nearly as much as he hated paperwork. But tonight, he was grateful for the easy, mindless task; he wouldn’t be able to focus on much else, not with you on his mind.

The door to his office suddenly opened, but he didn’t bother glancing up to see who it was; Cara had already gone home with some pretty young thing she’d picked up at the bar, and there was only one other person who would dare come in without knocking.

“I gave her a promotion,” he said, not looking up from the check he was writing. “You’ve got yourself a new bartender. Thought you’d like not having to deal with Rachel showing up late anymore.”

“…I’ve been telling you to replace Rachelle for three years,” was his only answer.

Din looked up, watching as his old friend slowly lowered himself into his favorite armchair, groaning with the strain it put on his knees; he’d always had trouble with his joints.

“…Really,” he finally hummed, turning back to the check and scrawling his signature (which was just a wiggly line that resembled more of a curly fry than it did an actual name, but that only helped him in his efforts to remain nameless) across the bottom right corner of it. “Didn’t realize it’d been that long.”

“Because you blew me off and told me to quit complaining anytime I mentioned it,” he fired back. “Why now, all of a sudden? Why her?”

“Look, do you want me to keep Rachel?”

Quill opened his mouth to speak, but he cut him off before he could, already knowing what he would say.

“Rachelle – whatever her fucking name is,” he grumbled. “You get my point.”

“It still doesn’t answer my question.”

Something in the older man’s tone made Din pause, slowly setting his pen down before turning to Quill once again.

“What’s it to you?” he countered. “You got something against working with the new girl?”

“No,” the bartender sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And you know it. Just…remember what happened the last time you took a special interest-“

“Out.”

His friend sighed, standing up with a grunt and taking a step towards him.

“Now, Din, don’t get me wrong-“

“I said…”

He stood from his desk, pressing his palms flat against its surface and leaning towards the older man.

“Out.”

Quill bowed his head, the wrinkles on his face deepening as he frowned, but he didn’t feel anything but contempt as he nodded and turned towards the door. Slowly, Din lowered himself down into his chair once more, but his muscles tensed when he saw his old friend pause on the way out.

“I’m just as much worried for you as I am for her, you know,” he murmured. “It would kill me to see you go through…that again.”

The old man shook his head, looking back at him over his shoulder.

“It would kill me,” he whispered.

With that, he stepped out and shut the door behind him, leaving Din with nothing but bad memories and the taste of bourbon and lemon peel lingering on his tongue.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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sunflowerbi · 4 years

Note

Ahsjdkfkf okay another prompt 😆 15 + 37 (scream 😂) but like one where eve doesn't destroy the 3x03 teddy bear ahsjdjd

OKAY. Look. I did it! This was the fic i posted about losing and then rewriting but i’m okay now because i like this better anyway. it’s very dramatic and the quotes come in EVENTUALLY i swear. it’s like 1.5k words in but i promise it’s cute. thank you again for being a gift to, me, personally, by sending me these prompts so that i can force myself to write something. it’s 1.9k words of absolute yearning and gay. hopefully there aren’t too many mistakes because i am too tired to proofread. (It’s also on ao3 if you prefer! link’s in my pinned post) ((translations for the russian are at the end))

“You sleep with the stuffed animal I got you?” “Of course” + “Keep talking, your voice helps me sleep.” (Sleepy/cozy prompts) ✨

Villanelle moved carefully around the flat, looking everything over. It was nice enough, emptier now with the loss of Niko’s things. Fewer pictures hung on the walls, and the fridge was barer than it used to be. Villanelle certainly appreciated it, finding she much preferred the flat untouched by a man Eve was clinging to only so she could continue pretending to be “normal.” There were still files covering the coffee table, left open as if Eve couldn’t be bothered wasting time closing them. Villanelle loved that; the way Eve threw herself so entirely into her work, into finding answers. She looked again at the postcard on the counter, her own loopy handwriting scrawled across the card, “See you Monday, darling. xx” It was in the same place Villanelle left it Thursday morning, having been in a rush but desperate to communicate with Eve in any small way. She wondered idly if Eve was avoiding the flat, if she would spend the night at someone else’s place just to prevent this meeting. Villanelle doubted Eve would be able to stave off her curiosity, but if she had learned anything it was that she shouldn’t doubt Eve. She hoped, though, that Eve wanted to see her.

Villanelle had wanted people before, certainly. Had wanted to touch them, kiss them, even on occasion spend time with them. The way she wanted Eve, though, was different. It was desperate and all-consuming. She’d never wanted someone in that way, still didn’t know what to do with it. She’d learned her lesson, knew that if Eve didn’t want her in the same way she had to let her go, but she hadn’t figured out what she was supposed to do in that case. She had never been scared to lose a person before. She was finding she didn’t enjoy it. She just had to wait, though. Eve would arrive eventually, and Villanelle would convince her that she did, in fact, love her, and that she should give them a chance.

Until then, she entertained herself easily enough, fingers flicking through shirts and pants hung neatly in the closet, frowning as she considered how she could improve Eve’s wardrobe. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy the turtlenecks, it’s just that she thought Eve deserved nicer ones. Some variety wouldn’t hurt, either, but that was an issue for a later date. (Not too much later, hopefully.) She continued moving around the room, her fingers occasionally passing over objects she found to be of particular interest. Villanelle noticed that Eve’s flat was organized much like Eve’s mind. It was cluttered, items placed seemingly without thought, until you saw her move through the area. She had watched Eve move in this space, and everything flowed naturally to her, just as in her brain. Eve’s conclusions rarely made sense to anyone until they heard her explain exactly how she’d made it there, and then they can’t remember thinking anything different. Just as nobody would be able to figure out why Eve kept her lipstick in the living room unless they’d watch her running late for work, had seen her grab one of them and quickly apply it when she caught herself in the mirror, placed by the door for the same reason. Villanelle almost felt guilty for the way she knew this, having watched Eve before dropping the card off, but the bit of knowledge about Eve, the piece of the woman she’d gained, was far too valuable to her. She reveled in knowing things about her, wanted to keep learning things.

For now, though, she could hear the jostling of a key in the lock, and knew it was time for the end of the stage they were in now. She was done with in between, tired of not knowing. Mystery had its appeal, certainly, but the novelty had long since faded and she needed to know that Eve wanted her the way she wanted Eve. So, when Eve opened the door, Villanelle was sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen, looking out towards the hallway Eve was making her way through.

“You know, most people would just call ahead of time, so they know when to swing by, instead of breaking into people’s flats for fun. You’re lucky my neighbors don’t care about me enough to call someone.” Eve said, more exasperated than surprised by Villanelle’s presence in her kitchen.

“Well, I have never been most people, have I?” Villanelle had collected herself, although she heard her voice falter a bit, disliking how she struggled to find her usually cockiness.

“No, you certainly haven’t.”

“I was worried you were avoiding me, darling Eve.”

Eve rolled her eyes as she grabbed two mugs and a random bottle of wine from her refrigerator, “You know, I have a job, I can’t just sit around all day waiting for you to appear in my kitchen.” She poured the wine, handing one to Villanelle, taking a sip from her own.

“I did not mind waiting, I like looking at your things.” Villanelle explained, as if Eve had been worried about inconveniencing her. “I like what you’ve done with the place, getting rid of the mustache’s things. I have some numbers though, people who could help you redecorate. It’s a bit depressing in here, really.”

“Thank you for the advice, really. So, what did you need to talk to me about?” Eve rolled her eyes, “I’d say it must be important if you had to break into my flat for it, but I have a feeling it could’ve been anything and you still would have broken in.”

“I think you are right, but it just so happens to be important. We have done this twice already; do you have a knife? I do not have a gun this time.” She was trying for humor, but found it fell a bit more desperate, more like begging, please don’t let this end like it did before.

“I have plenty in the kitchen, but since I just walked in the door, I haven’t had to chance to grab one, so no. I wouldn’t stab you again, though, even if I did.” Eve pointed out, a small smile crossing her face.

“That is good to know, for what it’s worth I wouldn’t shoot you again either.” Villanelle looked at her feet, suddenly finding her pink toenails to be of much interest. “You kissed me. We were fighting and then you kissed me and then you hit me again.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I do not understand why you would do that. Were you mad at me or not? You hit me a lot, so I thought you were angry with me, since I shot you and all. Then you kissed me, which is not what people usually do when they are mad at someone.” Villanelle hoped that Eve realized she really didn’t understand, that she really wanted to.

Eve breathed out a small laugh, a fond smile on her face, “Of course I was mad at you, V, you fucking shot me. It’s just that when you’re an inch away from me and you look like you, it’s hard to only feel angry. I wanted to kill you, but mostly I just wanted to kiss you, like I should have in Paris.”

“Oh.” It was nearly silent, a realization inaudible to anyone not entirely focused on Villanelle’s every movement.

“I don’t even know if I’m angry anymore. I should be, you tried to kill me. I did it first, though. God, there’s not a minute I don’t regret pushing that knife into you.” Eve reached out without thinking, her fingers lightly touching Villanelle’s scar over the soft black of her shirt, feeling the mangled line she’d put there.

“I love the scar, though. You gave it to me, and I could never hate anything you gave me.” Villanelle placed her hand on top of Eve’s, tracing a finger along the line.

“I would say I don’t understand, but sometimes I catch my scar in the mirror and I’m struck by how much I miss you.” Eve moved their joined hands over to her own scar, flipping hers over Villanelle’s. She traced the line on her chest where it entered, reveling in the physical representation of all that they felt for each other.

“So, you do miss me?”

“Constantly.”

They fell into each other, hands parting only to find their places on hips and cheeks, Villanelle letting one thread into Eve’s hair. The kiss was slow, a welcome home, please stay. Two women desperate to be done with the chase, to pull each other so close they couldn’t be separated anymore.

“Oksana. I love you.” Eve mumbled it, their lips still fumbling against each other.

“I love you. I love you; I love you Eve.” She spoke it like a prayer, her arms pulling Eve impossibly closer. “Say my name again, please.”

“Oksana.” It was whispered this time, Eve falling in love with the way it rolled off her lips. “Oksana, I need you to stay. Please.”

“Of course. I can’t leave you, Eve. Ty moy ray, ty moyo nebo, ty moyo solntse.” They pulled apart, now, gentle pecks pressed against lips as they did.

Eve pulled Oksana towards the bedroom, stripping out of her work clothes as soon as they arrived. She found comfortable clothes for Oksana and herself before falling into the bed. She was in love, and there were so many things she wanted to do. Right now, though, the day had drained her of all she had, and she wanted to sleep with Oksana in her arms.

“You sleep with the bear I got you?” Eve looked over and saw Oksana holding the fluffy pink animal she’d been unable to get rid of, no matter how hard she tried.

“Of course.” Eve smiled, “You gave it to me. How could I ever hate something you gave me?”

Eve tugged Oksana onto the bed, kissing her again.

“I could kiss you forever. I don’t think it would be enough.” Oksana admitted between kisses. She had never been so content, so full of something she’d never experienced but she didn’t think she would stop feeling ever again, not as long as Eve was beside her.

“I hope you’ll try.” Eve ran her fingers down Oksana’s face, tracing the outline of her jaw. “I don’t think I could lose you again.”

“You will not, sweet Eve. I am yours now, forever.”

“We need to sleep. I need to sleep.” Eve whispered, “I can finally sleep now that you’re in my arms.”

“Я хочу́ просыпа́ться с тобо́й ка́ждое у́тро. я хочу спать рядом с тобой навсегда. Ты смысл мое́й жи́зни.”

“Keep talking, your voice helps me sleep. It reminds me that I have you now.” Eve stared into Oksana’s eyes, trying her hardest to pour every bit of love she felt into the look.

“There is a poem, in Russia. I used to read it when I missed you.” Oksana pushed a few loose curls behind Eve’s ear, her fingers taking their time as they traced the outline of her cheek.

“Я люблю тебя здесь и сейчас,

Не тайно - для галочки;

Я горю в твоих лучах - ни до, ни после.

Я не хочу прошлого,

Я не знаю будущего.

Я люблю тебя здесь и сейчас, со слезами и смехом.”

“I love you too, Oksana.” Eve mumbled; her eyelids fluttering shut. As Oksana watched her breathing steady, she felt her own eyes grow heavy, a warm happiness soothing her broken soul.

Russian:

“You are my heaven, you are my sky, you are my sun”

“I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to sleep next to you forever. You are the meaning of my life.”

Poem is I Love You Now by Vladimir Vysotsky which translates to about:

I love you here and now,

Not secretly - for show;

I'm burning in your rays - neither before nor after.

I do not want the past,

The future I don't know.

I love you here and now, with tears and with laughter.

#killing eve fanfic #killing eve #ke season 3 #killingevedaily #ke s2 #ke s1 #villaneve #villaneve fic #villanelle #eve polastri #i think about you all the time #my writing

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uas-fics · 5 years

Text

Title: Lego Butterflies

Summary: Tweek is so excited to join a lego house contest with his friends Jimmy and Timmy. Nothing could ruin his day! Except maybe Nathan and his schemes of revenge against Jimmy!

Rating: G

Ships: Mentioned Creek.

Other: For @tweekweek, day 2 Talent. I have no idea if this Red Cross idea would even work but you know what, it's just a setting and conflict set up sooo..... *shrug*

Also, disclaimer, I didn't have time to do as much research as ASL as I should have, so the wording of Timmy's dialog isn't perfect, and I apologize. :(

Read on Ao3

---

Tweek bounced in his seat, a goofy smile on his face. The weekend didn’t come fast enough. Since Wednesday, Tweek hopped into bed early in an attempt to force time to move its butt along so Saturday’s event could finally happen.

Jimmy sat to his left and Timmy to his right. They shared his excitement.

Jimmy was the one who brought Tweek the flyer, shoving it under his nose during recess.

"The South Park Red Cross's first annual building contest: An event for children thirteen and under to show off their building skills and have fun!" The flyer proclaimed in Comic Sans font. "Come by and bring your kids for a lego brick contest with plenty of wonderful prizes for the best entries. Lunch and dinner will be provided. starts at 10 am ends at 6 pm. 5 dollar entry fee with be required in advance. For more information call the South Park Red Cross office or email us at SPRedCross@zmail. net."

Jimmy explained that it was a creative competition where a group of up to three kids are given a lego kit and had the day to make the building, but with their own creative twist on it. The first prize winners received gift cards to the local Dairy Queen.

Tweek didn't care about the prize. He was just excited to build with his friends and have fun. He didn't even expect to win, but Jimmy proclaimed he knew they would since Tweek was so amazing at building with legos.

"You have one of your builds on display at the library!" Jimmy reminded. "The one that looks like a b-b-bo-boat? You're a natural. We'll win for sure."

His parents donated his boat to the library without his permission last summer. Though Tweek had planned to recycle the bricks into another project, he couldn’t help but feel pride every time he saw his name on that piece of card stock in the shiny display case.

Tweek looked around the Red Cross building at the other tables. He knew some of the other kids here, but most were younger than him and he couldn't put a name to a face. He knew two of the kindergarteners in the corner. Kyle Broflovski's little brother and the youngest member of the goth kids looked less than thrilled to be there as their parents chatted a few feet away.

Kenny and his little sister and older brother on the other side of the room, Karen speaking animatedly and Kenny nodding along while their brother had a chair pulled to the wall and dozed.

Some girls from his class chatted near the door. A few kids from the special education class that Tweek didn't know waved to Jimmy as they walked in.

"Oh my Gosh!" Jimmy beamed. "There sure is a really big crowd out tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, this might be a fun competition," Tweek agreed.

"Of course, it will be." Jimmy leaned over and picked up his bag from beside him. He unzipped it before taking out some peanut butter crackers and juice boxes. "My mom packed me these, but we're being fed lunch, so I thought we could have them as a pre-build s-s-snack."

Timmy nodded, reaching in front of Tweek for a pack of crackers. His fingers wrapped around a juice box, only for his nose to wrinkle up in disgust when he read the flavor. He tossed the juice box back before snatching up a different one.

Jimmy cocked his head to the side to read the flavor. He stuck his tongue out.

"I a-agree with you there, Tim Tim." Jimmy faked a gag. "Kiwi-Orange is the w-worst flavor. I keep asking mom not to buy this kind, but she a-al-always forgets."

Tweek's mom buys the same brand, and he knew its store-brand juice and the cheapest available at the local market, but he didn’t point that out. Instead, he took the Kiwi-Orange for himself, leaving Jimmy with Peach.

Of the Tropical Explosion flavors, Kiwi-Orange tasted best to him. It was tangy with just the right amount of kiwi. He didn't understand how anyone couldn't love it.

"Well, well, well," A snide voice intoned, "look what the cat dragged in."

Nathan marched up to their table with Mimsy right behind him like a giant shadow. Nathan set his palms on the tabletop and leaned forward a little too far into their space.

"Oh! Hello there, Nathan!" Jimmy chirped, completely unfazed by how close Nathan's tinted aviator glasses were to his face. "You too, M-Mimsy. Good morning!"

"Heya, fellas," Mimsy replied with a wave.

"So, what brings you two here? Jimmy? Timmy? Are you here for the contest?" Nathan nodded to the front of the room where the adults from the Red Cross were pulling out craft supplies from some boxes.

"We s-s-sure are." Jimmy wrapped his arm around Tweek. "Tim Tim, me, and Tweek here are all one group. Isn't that gr-great? Too bad we can't have a group of five, though. You and Mimsy would make great additions to our t-t-team."

Nathan scrunched up his nose like he just stepped on a wet turd with bare feet.

"Oh," he gave Tweek a hard look over the top of his glasses, "really?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Tweek watched Timmy grip his crackers so hard, they crumbled in the wrapper. He glared at Nathan as if daring him to say something.

If Nathan saw, he didn't respond. Instead, he shrugged and stepped away.

"Good luck, there, Jimmy, Timmy...Tweek."

Tweek shuddered at how Nathan said his name. It reminded him a little too much of a cartoon super-villain with a long mustache about to capture the hero with a complicated contraption.

Timmy must not have like how his name was said either since he flipped Nathan off behind his back. Jimmy, on the other hand, seemed unphased completely.

"Good luck to you, too! I know we'll all do f-f-f-fantastic!" Jimmy encouraged. Nathan scowled as he turned around and went to another table.

Mimsy almost followed him, when he paused, taking a look at the box of juice in Tweek's hand.

"Is that Kiwi-Orange? Oh, boy, it's my favorite flavor. Do they have some here?" Mimsy grinned.

"Really?" Timmy signed, sticking out his tongue.

Tweek smiled back at him. "It's my favorite, too. It's yummy."

Jimmy looked into his bag. "Ah, darn, sorry, Mimsy. Mom only packed enough for my team. Maybe I can bring you some at school on Monday."

Mimsy's face fell. For someone with a large and imposing a frame as Mimsy, when he got disappointed, he looked no more threatening than an upset puppy.

Tweek offered his unopened box. "Here, you can have mine. I brought my own drink." With his free hand, he lifted his ever-present thermos from between his feet, still warm with the mid-morning’s coffee.

Mimsy's eyes grew wide. His mouth went slack as he took the juice. "Really? You'd give me the best flavor? Just like that? No fight or nothin'?" Mimsy stared down at the juice box as if Tweek just handed him the Hope Diamond to keep.

"Uh-huh. I'm ok with it, if you don't mind, Jimmy." He turned a questioning look to him.

Jimmy shook his head. "No, it's fine. Our teachers always tell us sharing makes for the b-best friendships."

"Good, there you go, Mimsy. Good luck. I hope you have lots of fun today." Tweek smiled again.

He didn't know Mimsy well, other than he hung around with Nathan all the time, but he didn't have anything against him. Mimsy seemed like a nice kid. He didn’t give bad vibes, unlike Nathan.

Mimsy looked at the box, then at Tweek, and blushed. "Golly, that's swell of you. Thanks a lot, Tweek." He giggled as if Tweek just told him a silly riddle before making a beeline for Nathan.

After the three finished their juice--or coffee in Tweek's case--and crackers, Jimmy gathered up the trash and took it to the trash can before heading to use the restroom.

Once Jimmy was out of earshot, Tweek turned to Timmy with a frown.

"Are you alright? You seem...uh..." he gestured to the crumbs covering Timmy's shirt, "upset? Is this about Nathan?"

Timmy brushed the crumbs off with his face set in a scowl. He looked around before leaning in close.

"Do not trust Nathan," he whispered, keeping his hand movement small and close to his body.

"Why?" Tweek covered his mouth with the side of his hand. Nathan and Mimsy sat across the room, so they couldn't hear him but better safe than sorry.

"He is a dickhead." Timmy cringed. "Jimmy is too stupid to understand Nathan hates him."

"He hates him? Jimmy sure seems to think they’re friends." Tweek frowned.

"He is clueless!" Timmy rolled his eyes. "Nathan hates him. He tries to trick him all the time or get him in trouble."

At Tweek's raised eyebrow, Timmy went on to explain some of his experiences with Nathan that ranged from switching out Jimmy's pencils with colored ones for tests and tripping in him in the lunch line to dumping soda in his backpack and spreading rumors.

When Timmy started to explain something that happened during summer camp, he started moving his hands so fast in his anger that Tweek couldn't understand him.

"Alright, alright, I get it! Nathan is a huge dick." Tweek grabbed Timmy's wrists when he was in the middle of signing what Tweek thought was 'Space-Racist.'

Timmy pulled his hands to his lap. "Be careful today," he warned, leaning over to shoot Nathan a glare.

Tweek peeked over his shoulder. Nathan had his head turned, so he didn't see Timmy's glower. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Jimmy, who was speaking with some girls at a nearby table. His hands balled into shaking fists.

Tweek snapped his head forward. His stomach twisted into knots. Timmy was right. They had to be super careful today.

---

Jimmy, that asshole, flirting with those girls right in front of him! He was just doing it to rub it in his face that, for some reason completely unknown to Nathan, the girls seemed to like him.

He didn't understand what anyone saw in Jimmy. Nathan was much more handsome and charismatic than Jimmy could ever be!

But the girls tittered and fawned over him like he was the best thing since sliced bread!

Nathan gripped his hands into fists.

"Mimsy, we're going to win those gift cards," He growled. "Even if I have to smash their entry myself."

Mimsy looked up from the empty juice box in his hands. He had been staring at it like a dolt since he finished sucking it dry. What was the big deal? It was just a juice box. It wasn't even a good flavor. Only some weirdo like Mimsy would like Kiwi-Orange.

"Ah, I dunno, Boss," Mimsy fingered the box, "maybe we should just try our best to win on our own. We don't gotta cheat."

"Don't you see, Mimsy? Jimmy is cheating! Us cheating would even the odds." Nathan waved his hand towards them. "He brought that Tweek kid with them to help."

"What's wrong with Tweek?" Mimsy's voice pitched up when he said Tweek's name. A small blush grew across his cheeks, eyes drifting down to the juice box.

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's an expert with legos, Mimsy! He has something he made shown off at the library! How is that fair to the rest of us?"

Mimsy craned his head around the room a moment. "Well, why don't we ask Colette." He pointed towards her. "She has a lego project displayed at the library too, and it looks like she's all by herself. We can ask her to join us!"

Nathan winced. "Hell no. She's ugly. I don't want an ugly girl on my team." He was trying to win the gift cards so he could get pretty girls. Girls love free chocolate-dipped cones. He would have a whole bunch of girls clambering for his attention when he won those gift cards. Then Jimmy would cry like a baby now that the girls saw who the real man around was.

Mimsy cocked his head to the side. "Well, Boss, maybe you should put your misogyny and bias against women aside this one time and work towards your goal so we can win honestly and you can take real pride in your win."

Nathan stared dumbfounded at Mimsy. Where did Mimsy get these ideas? Probably some dumb cartoon or something.

"Mimsy, shut up."

Mimsy turned his attention back to his juice box with a shrug. "Ok, boss."

---

The rules for the competition where simple: build the lego house from a kit and decorate it with the supplies from the craft table.

The house kit was a simple model, only twenty bricks high with four window pieces and a door piece and a premade slanted roof.

Even if Tweek hadn’t built it before, it was an easy task. He took up the job of putting it together while Jimmy and Timmy gathered supplies and refined the plan.

They had decided to turn their project into a gingerbread house with lollipop trees and candy stuck to the roof. They would use paint to add icing accents and cotton balls as cotton candy lining the outside like bushes.

As Timmy wrapped cellophane plastic around foam balls to make hard candy and Jimmy used a marker to color the cotton, Tweek stood to stretch.

"I'm going to the restroom. Be right back."

Timmy grabbed his sleeve, holding up a sheet of cellophane.

"Get blue," He told him before lowering his head back to his work.

Once Tweek finished his business, he stood over the craft table shifting through the mess of stickers and papers for a blue sheet of cellophane. Most of the stickers had a faint yellow tinge to them and several of the sets of markers were missing colors. If Tweek had to guess, he would say a lot of the supplies were donated from a granny’s leftover scrapbooking supplies.

Tweek glanced over his shoulder at a nearby team’s house kit box. Given how yellowed it was, maybe more than just the stickers came from someone’s backroom.

He set some brown felt aside before a flash of shiny, translucent blue caught his eye.

With a noise of satisfaction, he reached for it, only for another hand to grab it at the same time.

Tweek looked up and met eyes with Nathan himself.

"I saw it first," Nathan snapped, snatching the cellophane.

"We need it for ours," Tweek countered.

All of Timmy's stories played through his head. He needed to be very careful with what he said. Jimmy might be optimistically oblivious enough to overlook Nathan's malice acts, but Tweek sure as heck wasn't.

Nathan attempted to reply, but Mimsy stepped behind him and cut him off.

"Heya, Tweek!" He swung his hands side to side. "Gosh, isn't this fun? We's nearly finished half our house. It's going to be a summer house with a pool and palm trees and--"

Nathan shoved a sheet of craft felt into his mouth.

"Shut up, Mimsy! Don't tell our enemies the plan." He glared over the top of his glasses at Tweek. "He might steal our ideas."

"We don't need your ideas." Tweek reached across the table for the corner of the felt in Mimsy's mouth. He pulled it out then pushed it into Nathan's hands, making sure that the part covered in spit touched his skin.

Nathan dropped everything in his arms back on the table with a yelp. As he wiped his hand on his pants, Tweek snatched the blue cellophane. Before Nathan could make a bigger scene, Tweek took a pair of craft scissors and made a wavy line down the middle of the sheet.

"Here. Problem solved," Tweek set half on the slobbery felt.

A snarl ripped from Nathan’s throat as his upper lip rose. Tweek froze like a rabbit staring down a pet dog.

Oh, shoot! He had let himself get overconfident! Nathan was going to kill him, right there in the Red Cross building, in front of everyone!

Mimsy put his big hands on Nathan's shoulders and turned him.

"That'll be enough blue, dontcha think, boss? I think so. We just needed a little. Ain't it real diplomatic to share like that?" Mimsy jabbered on as he forced Nathan towards their table.

Tweek's body relaxed. Mimsy glanced over his shoulder at him.

"Thank you," he mouthed at him. Mimsy turned forward instantly, the tips of his ears burning pink.

---

Nathan crumbled the blue cellophane and threw it on the table. He was upset, but Mimsy didn't know why. They got more than enough for their pool.

Maybe if his head wasn't so light and spinny, he could figure it out, but right now he felt as though his feet weren't even touching the ground.

Tweek was so nice. He gave him his juice box. He shared the cellophane. He even said thank you for taking Nathan away to cool off.

Tweek was wonderful.

"--msy?"

Mimsy blinked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, what were ya sayin', Boss?"

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses.

"I said we have to get those punk-ass jerks Jimmy, Timmy, and Tweek. We can't let them win!" Nathan picked up a pair of scissors and cut the crinkled cellophane to shape.

Mimsy twiddled his thumbs, taking a seat. "Do we have to? I don't think Tweek deserves us destroying his hard work."

Nathan paused and looked up. He fixed Mimsy with a look before he scowled.

"Mimsy, what do you care about that blond twitchy kid?" Nathan asked in a slow, careful tone.

Mimsy picked up a button he had painted to look like a life-ring and twisted it between his fingers. "Oh, well, ah...Tweek just..." He felt a silly smile grow on his face and couldn't make himself look up at his best friend as he continued, "He gives me butterflies, ya know, boss? In my tummy, and I just don't wanna cause him no trouble."

He didn't really want to cause Jimmy or Timmy trouble either, but Nathan had his heart set on being better than them, so Mimsy tagged along and helped him out however he could.

"Oh, for the love of..." Nathan dragged his hands down his face. "You know Tweek has a boyfriend, don't you? Shit those butterflies out already. You don't have a chance."

"I don't wanna chance." Mimsy picked up a lego brick and attached it to another brick. "Just knowing Tweek’s happy makes me happy. I wanna be his friend."

Be his friend, sit together at lunch, even, hold his hand at recess a little, that's all Mimsy wanted. He just really, really wanted that wonderful person to like him and he didn't think ruining his project would make that dream come true.

"Mimsy, you have the brain of a chicken." Nathan shook his head.

"Ah, geez, thanks, boss." Mimsy smiled at him. Chickens are really smart. Their class watched a show on them once. Chickens can count and do basic math! Nathan was such a swell guy for using inside information to compliment him.

Nathan opened his mouth then shut it with a groan. "Just finish building the house and stop pining over Tweek. I'll come up with a plan in the meantime."

Though his stomach twisted with worry, Mimsy nodded. Nathan wouldn't steer him wrong, would he?

---

Lunch was sandwiches, a snack pack of chips, an apple or orange, and a drink. The adults ushered everyone out to another room to eat, so Tweek's group stood with Kenny and his siblings as they ate.

In the ten minutes since Karen started talking to Tweek, he was pretty sure he counted her take a breathless than fifteen times.

"Since it's a kitten's house," Karen explained, "it'll have a pen outside for mice she can eat anytime she wants and--"

"Karen," Kenny cut in, "looks like they're letting people have seconds. Go get some. Get me another too."

Karen looked at her half-eaten sandwich then back up. Kenny shooed her with his fingers and a nod.

"Mom let us come for the free food, sis," Kenny reminded her, taking a big bite of his sandwich. "We'll put the extras in Kevin's bag."

"But, I was telling Tweek about our project." Karen sighed, but pushed her chair out anyway and headed back towards the serving table.

Jimmy laughed, slapping Tweek's shoulder. "Wow, I thought she would t-talk your ear off."

Tweek blew a breath out. "Thanks, dude.” He told Kenny. “She's really excited, huh?"

He raised a shoulder in a half shrug. "It gets her out of the house to play with glitter glue and stickers. Of course, she's excited. I don't think we'll win, but she's having fun, so it's ok by me if we lose."

From across the table, Kevin snorted. "We'd better win. Girls love being treated to a dipped cone," he muttered, more to himself than the conversation between the fourth graders.

Kenny rolled his eyes as Karen came trotting back up. Chips and fruit ladened down her arms. Several sets of eyes from the nearby tables turned towards theirs when she dropped everything down with the thump of hard apples and oranges and the crinkles of plastic chip bags.

Karen beamed proudly at her plunder. "That nice old lady gave it to me when I told her my last name." She waved towards an elderly woman sitting behind the table. See Karen acknowledge her, the woman waved back before returning to her conversation.

Kenny's cheeks blushed red. He averted his eyes and pulled his hood strings a little. Even Kevin slumped down a little farther in his chair.

As is his nature, Jimmy quickly changed the subject before the heavy silence grew too awkward.

"So, w-what else is everyone doing for their e-en-entries? Do you know? Colette is sitting next to us and is making a fairy castle. It's r-r-r-really neat!" Jimmy waved his hands out, drawing the attention to himself and shielding the McCormicks while Kevin unzipped his backpack.

"Yeah, um, oh!" Tweek moved his arms out as well, though not as wide. "Mimsy told me he and Nathan were making a summer house. Isn't that cool? Errr--It has a pool even."

"A pool?!" Karen gasped. She grabbed Kenny's arm and shook him. "Can ours have a pool? I know cats hate water, but I don't think this kitten would. It can be a special cat pool!"

"Huh? Yeah, sure, we can put fish stickers inside," Kenny replied without looking up from his and Kevin's work.

"I want the pool to have pink water," Karen continued, wrapping her arm around his. "It's fancy rose water. We have some extra paper flowers we can put around it, and we can even make an innertube floatie!"

"I bet you can make the best p-pool ever," Jimmy told her, finally lowering his arms to the table. "I think we have some extra pink plastic wrap you can use. If you make a paper c-c-cir-circle you can cover it for your pool."

Karen released Kenny's arm and darted around the table to squeeze in between Tweek and Jimmy, bombarding Jimmy with questions for more ideas. Feeling claustrophobic, Tweek slipped out of his seat. The instant he did, Karen plopped down.

Kenny set a hand on Tweek's arm. "Thanks. I owe you one,” he whispered, his cheeks still tinged with the red of embarrassment.

Before Tweek could reply, another hand grabbed his arm and pulled. He spun around to see Timmy staring at him with a determined expression. He tugged Tweek away to talk privately in the corner.

"I saw Nathan and Mimsy." He nodded towards the door to the other room. "They snuck back in."

"What?" Tweek squawked. He craned his head around to make sure no one heard him. "What?" He repeated, much quieter. "When? Should we tell an adult?"

Timmy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe? Or..." He flashed a wicked smile, "we catch them."

"You want to sneak in there? How? You're not exactly..." He gestured to Timmy's wheelchair.

Timmy frowned. "I am sneaky."

"You are, but, eeer," Tweek chewed his lower lip. "There are too many people. We have to open the door completely to get you inside and..."

"You go!" Timmy rolled closer, pointing at Tweek’s chest. "You go in after Nathan."

"Why me? We should tell an adult." Tweek took a step away, but Timmy rolled his chair in front of him, blocking his path.

"You go. In ten minutes, I will tell someone." He promised, crossing his heart with his finger.

Timmy had that determined look on his face. It was the same face he had when he argued with Cartman about changing his superhero from Iron Maiden to Doctor Timothy. Unless Tweek wanted to make a powerful enemy of Timmy, he had no choice.

"Alright, fine..." Tweek heaved a sigh. "We still need a distraction though."

Timmy smirked, wheeling himself back. "That is my job."

Before Tweek could stop him, he spun his chair around and surged it forward. In the middle of the room, he slammed the brakes to a stop and fell out onto the ground. He threw his arm up dramatically with an anguished cry that reminded Tweek a little too much of a soap opera character.

It took seconds for all the adults to gather upon Timmy.

Tweek seized his moment and dashed towards the door. He slipped in and turned his eyes to a horrendous scene.

Drops of red, yellow, and blue paint rolled down half-finished walls and stained cuts of cardboard paper. Stickers had been ripped from the lego bricks on some and whole parts of the buildings taken away on others. Swear words were written along roofs in white glue. Glitter covered every surface.

And the end of the line of crafting carnage stood none other than Nathan himself, gluing marker caps to lego bricks with glitter glue.

"Hand me the buttons," Nathan held out his hand behind him without looking up. "We're going to put a big penis on this house. We'll use those stupid colored bushes as hair on the--"

"STOP!" Tweek shouted, rushing forward. He knew it was too late to save his or any of the other projects, but he had to try to save what was left!

With a rush of adrenaline, he dove at Nathan. Marker caps and buttons clattered across laminate as Nathan gasped and struggled under Tweek.

Nathan smacked Tweek across the face with the back of his hand, but Tweek was able to pin one of Nathan's hands down by the wrist.

With a sneer, Nathan aimed the bottle of glue in his free hand at Tweek's face and squeezed. A line of liquid glue hit him right above the right eye.

Tweek recoiled back, desperately trying to wipe the glue away with his sleeve. Nathan shoved him off. He rolled back, knocking into another table.

The folding table's leg gave way, dumping all the projects on it. Legos, stickers, paper, paintbrushes and shallow dishes of water all dropped to the floor. One of the houses hit Tweek on the top of the head. Stars swam across his vision.

"NO!" Nathan screamed. "My project!"

Tweek looked to his side and saw the remains of a lego house with a styrofoam sun glued to the top. The house crushed a paper water bowl with blue cellophane inside and several palm trees made of construction paper.

"Why you!" Nathan snarled. "Mimsy, grab him! I'm going to put a bottle of glitter glue down his throat!"

Tweek tried to scramble to his feet, only to slip on the loose pieces. Mimsy loomed over him.

There was no way out now. He was blocked by Nathan to his left, the other table to his front, the fallen table to his back and Mimsy to his right.

Tweek didn't think he would die today, but here he was about to meet the reaper.

All in all, he had a good day up until all this started with Nathan. He and his friends had lots of fun building the lego house and adding the decorations.

Too bad he couldn't say goodbye to everyone. Where were his parents supposed to find a new busboy on such short notice? Craig would be annoyed, too. They had a date planned for next week.

Accepting his demise, Tweek clenched his eyes shut and waited...and waited...and waited, but nothing came.

He opened his eyes to see Mimsy staring at him, face red and conflicted.

"Mimsy! Do as I say!" Nathan ordered.

"But, Boss! The butterflies," He whimpered as he grabbed at his shirt. "Can't we just go? Please?"

Nathan let out a cry of frustration. He set one foot on either side of Tweek before grabbing his chin. He held the glue up threateningly.

"If you're going to be useless, I'll do it myself," Nathan muttered.

He squeezed Tweek's cheeks into a fish pucker, forcing them apart. Tweek gritted his teeth.

A pair of hands fell on Nathan's shoulders. He blinked and looked up just in time for him to be thrown back into the opposite table. That one fell backwards with a crash, destroying all the defiled projects atop it.

Mimsy's lip quivered. "I asked ya to stop, Boss. I even said ‘please’..."

As Mimsy wiped away tears on his arm, the door opened.

"What is going on in here — Oh my Gosh!" One of the adults gaped at the scene.

Nathan scrambled to his feet, jabbing a finger at Tweek.

"He tried to come and break everyone's projects," He accused. "We came here to stop him from ruining everyone's fun. Tweek is a big cheater!"

"That's not--argh! That's not what happened!" Tweek countered though he didn't try to stand. His head hurt too much. Hopefully, his mom remembered to put the ice pack back in the freezer since Tweek smashed his elbow at the shop. Tweek was going to need it for the lump growing on the top of his head.

Slowly, adults and kids trickled in, looking on the destruction. Some of the younger kids started crying. A few of the adults already had phones out, preparing to call parents.

"Yes, it is, ma'am," Nathan said in his most sympathetic voice. "Tweek came in and was doing awfully naughty things to other people's projects. When Mimsy and I came in, he pushed me down.”

"No, he pushed me," Tweek snapped. "Please, Timmy! Timmy saw these two come in here, didn't you? Tell them!"

The adults turned to Timmy, who nodded once, glaring at Nathan.

"See!" Tweek gestured.

The adults still didn't look convinced. One walked right past Tweek to Nathan, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you hurt, sweetie?" She asked.

"A little bit, ma'am," he whimpered. “I have a scrape on my elbow. I might need stitches.”

"I'm telling the truth!" Tweek tried to stand, but the world spun too much for him to stay up.

Mimsy chewed his lip. His hands rubbed his stomach before he took a long, slow breath.

"Missum?" Mimsy tugged on the back of her shirt. "Nathan's lying. You see, we was gonna come in and ruin half of everyone's projects, so no one could tell we really were trying to ruin Tweek's teams, but Tweek came in, and Nathan pushed him and tried to put glue in his mouth. I’m the one who pushed Nathan."

Nathan growled. "Mimsy, you fucking traitor," He snapped. "See if I let you sit next to me at lunch now."

"Young man!" the adult gasped. "What did you just say?"

Nathan winced as he realized his mistake. She grabbed his shoulders and marched him towards the door. Mimsy twiddled his thumbs, uncertainly, before the adult yelled at him to follow her as well.

"Mimsy?" Tweek called. "That was really cool and brave of you. Thanks a lot."

Never before had Tweek seen a face light up as fast as Mimsy’s did at that moment. He giggled to himself before following after Nathan, almost skipping the whole way there.

---

Tweek slumped down against the table. His head still hurt, but at least the room stayed still when he moved. Timmy patted his shoulder as Jimmy sat down across from them.

"Nathan's parents just came to drove him and M-M-M-Mimsy home. They're in big trouble for this. They have to p-pay for the house kits they broke and aren't allowed at any R-R-Red Cross events for a whole six months." Jimmy cocked his head to the side. "I just don't get it. Why would Nathan do something so mean and nasty?"

Timmy slapped his palm to his forehead and dragged his hand down his face.

"He is a dick bag," Timmy reminded him. "Remember camp?"

"Those were all just unfortunate accidents," Jimmy countered. Timmy rolled his eyes and let the topic drop.

"And, anyway, Tweek. How are you f-feeling?"

Tweek shook held his head. "I'll be ok. I'm just glad I'm not in trouble, too. It's too bad we couldn't win the prize, though. Did you hear what happened to the gift cards?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, they decided to judge the ones left standing and pick a winner from those, but open the contest again in a month for everyone else who got their projects wrecked."

"Who won?" Timmy asked.

A smile spread on Jimmy's face. "Kenny and his brother and s-s-sis-sister," he explained. "I saw their finished Kitten Dream House, and it was c-cool and creative! Better than our silly g-g-gingerbread idea by a long shot."

"Will you join us for the next contest?" Timmy wanted to know from Tweek.

Tweek winced. "No, thank you. I'll play by myself at home where no one is going to try to make me eat glue."

"Ah, that's a s-stinky spirit to have," Jimmy chided.

After all that had happened today, Tweek didn't care one bit how his spirit smelled.

If even a fraction of what Timmy said was true, then he had to be very careful until Nathan's anger cooled--or turned back towards Jimmy. Who knows how long that will take!

But if Nathan was upset with Tweek, he was positively pissed at Mimsy for betraying him.

Tweek pursed his lips then nodded to himself.

Monday at school he would ask Mimsy if he wanted to join his table for lunch. It was the least he could do. Besides, as far as Tweek was concerned, Mimsy deserved a much better friend than Nathan, and he was willing to step up and be that friend.

---

AN: Shout out to my friend @najti-nightmare for help with the fic and title!

#tweek week #tweek tweak #jimmy valmer #timmy burch #nathan south park #mimsy south park #oneshot #comedy

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fly-pow-bye · 5 years

Text

What’s Airing On Cartoon Network? (June 2019)

The Futon Critic updated with the schedule for June, with new episodes of The Amazing World of Gumball, Ben 10 2016, Craig of the Creek, DC Super Hero Girls, OK K.O.! Let’s Be Heroes, PPG 2016, Summer Camp Island, Teen Titans Go!, and Victor and Valentino. Also...Ninjago? Listed after the break.

The Amazing World of Gumball:

We know that Gumball is ending, and there’s no real confirmation as of yet if The Inquisition is the grand finale. There are signs pointing to yes, but I don’t want to make any assumptions. In any case, new episodes of Gumball will air every Monday starting at 7 PM.

June 3rd:

The Web - Gumball and Darwin give Nicole a crash course in computers.

June 10th:

The Mess - Gumball and Darwin baby-sit, then baby-lose, Penny's little sister.

The Heart - Mr. Robinson tries and repeatedly fails to win back Gumball and Darwin's friendship.

June 17th:

The Revolt - Darwin feels bad for the household objects in Elmore and encourages them to rise up.

The Decisions - Darwin has finally had enough of Gumball's advice and seeks a new mentor.

June 24th:

The BFFS - When Gumball's old BFF turns up, Darwin gets jealous.

The Inquisition - School Superintendent Evil is coming to Elmore Junior High to stamp out all cartoonish conduct!

Ben 10 2016:

Already did an article on these, but I might as well put them here for good measure. Saturdays at 12 PM, starting on the 22nd, Ben 10 goes on a World Tour.

June 22nd:

Moor Fogg - Team Tennyson goes international in the Omni-Copter and the first stop is for a hike in the Scottish Highlands, but the weather isn't just bad, it's foggy, and that means one thing and one thing only: the return of The Fogg!

King of the Castle - Ben, Gwen, and Grandpa Max next travel to Castle Bishopbrook to visit a distant relative, but when Ben encounters a "ghost" at the haunted home, it turns out to actually be his new rival, Kevin 11, throwing even more aliens his way.

June 29th:

Speechless on the Seine - While in Paris, France, Ben catches Zombozo robbing the Louvre, but when Zombozo hypnotizes Ben to remain speechless, Ben must navigate a foreign land like a mime in order to stop the criminal clown and his traveling circus.

Don't Touch - Team Tennyson checks out a Samurai Museum in Tokyo, where a dangerous Samurai sword is stolen from the exhibit, Ben must take on its thief, the new Big Bad in town, the Forever Knight.

Craig of the Creek:

9 AM on Saturdays, starting on the 22nd.

June 22nd:

The Other Side - Craig, Kelsey and JP must journey past the Overpass into uncharted territory, the Other Side of the Creek.

June 29th:

Summer Wish - When Craig decides to keep a lightning bug in a jar, he disrupts the delicate balance of Summer.

DC Super Hero Girls:

4 PM on Sundays, just for the first two weeks.

June 2nd:

#SheMightBeGiant - Karen Beecher is always getting picked on at school, but when the local mall is attacked by a monstrous supervillain called Giganta, she discovers that tiny Bumblebee might be the only one small enough to save the day.

June 9th:

#FightAtTheMuseum - Supergirl always relies on her strength, but she'll need more than brawn to stop brainy Catwoman from stealing valuable gems from the local science museum.

NINJAGO: Masters of Spinjitzu:

A LEGO-related series is getting new episodes in June, but it’s not that one. Ninjago is still going. Two episodes will air every Saturday at 12:30 PM.

June 22nd:

Wasted True Potential - In the wake of the previous season's victory, the ninja have gone soft and Master Wu must remind them of who they truly are.

Questing For Quests - Realizing they have gone soft, the ninja search for a quest to reignite their Spinjitzu training. Unfortunately, NINJAGO City is enjoying a period of rare tranquility.

June 29th:

A Rocky Start - The ninja have found their quest! Now they just have to get there, which involves a road trip through the Desert of Doom, a region supposedly inhabited by a giant scarab beetle.

The Belly of the Beast - To repair the Land-Bounty, the ninja must retrieve a critical engine component that has been swallowed by a giant scarab beetle.

OK K.O.! Let’s Be Heroes:

Two episodes right next to each other, every Sunday starting at 4:30 PM, with the exception of the 30th, which will have three episodes!

June 2nd:

Sidekick Scouts - KO gets more than he bargained for when he gets a sidekick.

Whacky Jaxxyz - When the hot new toy trend of Whacky Jaxxyz comes to Lakewood, KO says goodbye to his POW Cards.

June 9th:

Project Ray Way - When Raymond starts his own fashion line, Rad and Drupe decide to make something even better.

I Am Jethro - When a different kind of Jethro rolls off the assembly line, the plaza is in for some surprises.

June 16th:

GarQuest - Gar and KO team up for a secret mission.

Gar Trains Punching Judy - With a big fight coming up, Punching Judy turns to KO and Gar to help her prepare.

June 23rd:

Beach Episode - Surf's up on a wacky beach adventure when our heroes are challenged to the ultimate beach battle.

OK A.U.! - An evil warlock takes our heroes to a strange alternate universe.

June 30th:

KO's Health Week - KO spends a week dispensing healthy tips to everyone in the plaza.

Rad's Alien Sickness - When our heroes are infected with a virus, Rad stubbornly refuses to back down.

Dark Plaza - KO and the heroes of the Plaza fight to save Lakewood Plaza Turbo with everything on the line.

PPG 2016:

In celebration of Father’s Day (the US one, not the international one), they finally decided to air these two episodes, which both happened to have titles with “father” or “dad” in them. These will air at an unusual time: 12:30 PM and 12:45 PM, respectively.

June 16th:

The Oct-Father - When Princess Morbucks steals Octi, Bubbles' reaction surprises everyone, even her sisters.

Sideline Dad - When the Girls start playing soccer, the Professor goes overboard.

Summer Camp Island:

A full hour of new episodes every Sunday, starting at 12 PM.

June 23rd:

Cosmic Bupkiss - A storm blocks Oscar and Hedgehog's one chance to see a comet.

Radio Silence - Oscar must get Hedgehog a special sandwich in order to save their friendship.

Director's Cut - Oscar receives a camcorder from his parents and sets out to prove to them the magic on the island is real.

The Haunted Campfire - The campers must battle ghosts of their own creation after their scary stories mysteriously come true.

June 30th:

I Heart Heartforde - Oscar, hedgehog and the other campers are excited to take a trip to the non-magical town of Heartforde.

Space Invasion - A visit from Puddle the alien tests the limit of Oscar's hosting skills.

Mom Soon - Hedgehog gets a call during her radio show from someone who needs her help.

Sneeze Guard - Oscar and Hedgehog must work with the witches to cure Alice's camp-threatening illness.

Teen Titans Go!:

Summer Camp Island isn’t the only summer camp-related phenomenon on Cartoon Network, as the Teen Titans are going to summer camp, too. Every Monday at 6 PM.

June 3rd:

The Bergerac - The Titans give Robin advice to guide him through his camp romance with Wonder Girl.

June 10th:

Snot and Tears - Robin tells the Titans to stop being reckless teens or the Creepy Catcher will get them.

June 17th:

Campfire! - The Titans put on a show but Robin warns that the performance must be boring or else they'll wake up the wolves.

June 24th:

What We Learned at Camp - After not receiving participation medals, the Titans must demonstrate what they learned at camp.

Victor and Valentino:

Every Saturday, except for the 15th, at 9:30 AM.

June 1st:

Los Cadejos - Val holds a grudge against Vic, unwittingly attracting an evil cadejo, a mythological wolf-like beast.

June 8th:

It Grows - As everyone celebrates Valentino for growing his first facial hair, a jealous Vic resorts to magical methods to grow a mustache and compete for attention.

June 22nd:

Welcome to the Underworld - After Vic loses a wrestling match, Vic and Val journey to the underworld to seek advice from their uncle, a famous wrestler named El Toro.

June 29th:

A New Don - When Vic and Val discover that Don isn't really himself - it's up to them to use his kooky codex of conspiracies to save him.

#ppg 2016 #powerpuff girls #ok ko let's be heroes #cartoon network #fpb news #teen titans go #the amazing world of gumball #ben 10 2016 #ben 10 #summer camp island #victor and valentino #dc super hero girls #craig of the creek #long post #lego ninjago

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mentalmimosa · 5 years

Text

not my problem

Now with part II under the jump! The guy down the hall has a problem. Keith’s never met him, only seen him a handful of times, but his nose knows: whatever’s bothering the guy is making him smell hella gray. Gray like storm clouds, gray like the world’s faded, gray like doors shut and all the bolts shot, locking the guy and his unhappiness up on their own. Even Hunk can smell it, the scent is so strong, and Hunk can’t tell a beta from a burnt strudel on a good day.

“Geez,” he says that night over dinner--pizza straight from the box at the kitchen counter--“what do you think’s wrong with him?”

“Honestly?” Keith says after a mouthful of pepperoni. “No freaking clue.”

Hunk’s eyebrows hit his bangs and he nearly knocks over his beer. “Dude, you have like the strongest nose in the quadrant. How in the heck can you not know?”

Keith shrugs. “Well, I’ve never met the guy. That’s probably not helping. I’ve got nothing to compare it against.”

“But, ok, but--aren’t you worried? I mean, whatever it is that’s going on with him can’t be good.”

“What do you want me to do, knock on his door and say, hey neighbor! We’ve actually never met but dude, you stink. Wanna tell me your problems?”

Hunk spreads his hands, sends cheese and grease everywhere. “Uh, duh. Yeah.”

“Ha ha. No. That’s not happening.”

“Maybe we should call somebody, then. A doctor or an ambulance or something.”

“Hunk, come on.” Keith’s face heats, annoyance flickering at his heels. “We should stay out of this. The guy isn’t dying.”

“Oh, is that your bar for helping somebody, dude? Nice.” Hunk grabs his beer and another two slices, gives Keith a look like dry ice. “And by nice I mean dickish. And heartless. You're being a dickish, heartless guy right now, Keith.”

“Heartless?” Keith calls at Hunk’s back, at the shoulders squared in defeat. “Since when is not prying into other people’s business heartless, man, huh?”

The only answer he gets is a one-finger salute and the slamming of Hunk’s bedroom door.

It’ll be better in the morning, Keith tells himself as he cleans up the kitchen, hits the lights and locks the front door. He probably had a bad day at work, this guy. Ok, a bad few days. Maybe more like a week. But he’s older than they are, this guy; has a good job, according to the sweet ride in his parking space. He has people over every now and again, friends or whatever. He’s fine. And if he isn’t right then, he will be. Just gotta give the whole thing some time.

*****

In the morning, the scent’s 10 times stronger, which is great, and Hunk won’t talk to him, just stares at him so hard every time his back is turned that it feels like scorch, which is worse. Then the train’s late and he has to run the last three blocks to school without stopping for coffee. It is not awesome. And then it gets even less so.

“What the fuck!” his lab partner Lance snaps when he slides in seconds before their 8:30 lab. “You murder a sad clown on your way in or something?”

“Huh?”

Lance waves his hands at him, makes a truly epic face. “Dude, you freaking reek .”

“Do I?

“Pfaw! Can you not tell? Ok, that’s worse.”

There’s a wave of heat on Keith’s neck, another that bites at his ears. “It’s not me.”

“Um, yeah it is. I’m standing right--”

“No! No, I mean, it is me but it’s not coming from me. There’s a guy down the hall from us, an alpha, and he’s--”

“A seriously sad clown?”

“Depressed or something, yeah. I guess.”

“Wait, or something? He smells like Eau du Black Dog, this guy, and you didn’t, like, stop by to make sure he’s still breathing?”

Keith scrubs a hand over his face, fights the instinct to bang his head on the lab bench. What the hell, universe, he thinks. What the hell. “It’s not my problem, Lance.”

“Sure it is,” Lance says. He pokes at the air with his pencil. “You alphas like all for one and one for all or some shit, aren’t you?”

“No,” Keith says through gritted teeth. “It’s an outdated cultural construct. Bullshit nostalgia."

“Aw, yeah you are. That’s like the plot of every chick flick ever: two proud alphas bashing heads, trying to take down the other, then realizing their feelings and--”

“Those are movies, asshat. Not real life.”

Lance yawns, somehow manages to laugh through a bone-cracking stretch. “Yeah, well, there was some truth in it once, right? So maybe give the guy a courtesy knock tonight for old times’ sake.”

“Excuse me?"

Suddenly the door bangs open and their physics prof stumbles in, his arms full of books, his face full of mustache. “Ah!” he says brightly, squinting, like he’s surprised to see the room full. “Morning. It is morning, isn’t it? Must be, because there’s the sun!”

“Hoo boy,” Lance mutters. “Wonder if he remembers which class this is. Maybe we can convince him it’s Chem 101 again. That was fun.”

“Good lord,” their prof says cheerfully. “What is that god-awful stench? You there, lads in the back, open the windows a crack, eh?”

Having the windows open helps, as does a full day of classes; it pulls Keith’s mind away from the whole situation, from everything except taking notes and keeping Lance away from his cigarettes--“Hey, I only wanted one!”--and speaking up just enough to keep the class participation part of his grade in good shape. It’s nice, actually, to lose himself in his Monday/Wednesday routine, to keep pace of the hours by which room he’s in, which building, which prof is wandering around at the front of the class. As the day passes, he can feel himself mellow, feel the twist of annoyance in his spine slowly, slowly unwind.

So he’s an alpha. So their neighbor’s an alpha. Big freaking deal. Most people these days don’t give a damn about anybody else’s biology, do they, don’t order their lives around what parts, what instincts they do or don’t have. Sure, it’s still a thing in media, alphas being bros, but hey, betas as eunuchs is a trope too even though that hasn’t been true in like almost a century. So he has no special responsibility for the sad mystery man. Zero. Zilch. None.

He hangs onto that, gets real comfortable with it, up and until the time he walks back through his building’s door.

Because the smell is overpowering--definitely sad now, bordered by something aching and sweet--and the closer he gets to his apartment, the more it claws at his throat, that smell, the more it makes him want to weep. It’s deeply fucking unsettling, as is his realization that he’s walking past his apartment--wait, what?--and dropping his backpack and putting his fist into the other alpha’s front door.

It opens.

“Can I help you?” the guy says.

He’s taller than Keith grokked before, dressed in soft-looking jeans and a gray henley the same color as a big shock of his hair. His eyes are dark, narrowed, like the light in the hallway’s a shock. And he's also unspeakably pretty, the kind of handsome that makes people stop in the street. Damn. How the hell had Keith missed that?

“I--” Keith gets out. “I was gonna ask you that.”

“Me? Why?”

“Um, you, ah”--god, does he really not know? What’s a nice way to say the whole building stinks of your sadness?--“you smell like something’s not right.”

Neighbor guy blinks. Not once, but twice. Manages to look genuinely confused. “I do?”

“Yeah. Big time. Everybody’s noticed.”

Ok, maybe not the best thing to say to the guy, if the blanch and sharp gasp are any indication. “Everybody’s--what?”

“Can I come in?” Keith blurts out. “I mean, I’m not trying to be weird, but it would be easier to like talk about this someplace other than the middle of the hall, you know?”

Another blink and the guy steps aside, gestures, and Keith steps inside.

“You’re an alpha,” neighbor guy says. It’s not a question.

“Yeah.”

The corners of the guy’s mouth turn up. “I thought I was the only one in the building.”

“What does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. It’s something I’m always curious about, that’s all. About how many of us there are left.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Shiro.”

“Keith.”

Their palms touch, then their fingers; Shiro’s grip is warm and strong. “Nice to meet you, Keith.”

“What’s wrong?” The words shoot out before Keith can stop them, before Shiro can let go of his hand. “Why are you so upset?”

Shiro lets go of his hand. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”

“It’s not, except that you’ve made it impossible for everyone in the building to ignore.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Not bad, exactly. Just strong. You don’t have to be an alpha to smell it.”

Shiro’s face flushes, a tinge of pink that highlights the horizoned scar on the bridge of his nose. “Well. That’s humiliating.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“No, no. Of course you weren’t. It’s just--” A rueful smile. “I’m not one to broadcast my problems. Guess my body had other ideas.”

“Is there anything I can do?” God, Keith thinks, startled by the sound of his own voice, where the fuck is this coming from? “Ah, somebody I can call for you, maybe? A friend, or--?”

“No.” There’s an unmistakable well of grief in that no, in the shake of Shiro’s head. It makes Keith want to grab his hand again, clutch it tight between his fingers. “Which is maybe the problem, I guess.”

“Huh?”

Shiro studies him. “Are you sure you want to hear this, guy I met five minutes ago?”

“If you need to say it then yes, I do.”

A beat, full and quiet. Then: “Let’s go sit down.”

“I’m fine here."

Shiro laughs, wan and shaky. “Yes, but I’m not. Come on. The living room's through here."

Shiro’s place is quiet and tasteful, with white, open walls and lots of light. The furniture is simple, almost streamlined, and if it weren’t for the orange cat asleep in the armchair and a blanket bundled onto the couch, it’d be hard to believe that anyone actually lives here. It’s the antithesis of how he and Hunk live; not like slobs, exactly, but like busy people whose stuff is everywhere, whose books and dinner plates and empty glasses end up tangled on the coffee table with Xbox controllers and extra pens and the junk mail that Hunk isn’t ready to throw away. Keith doesn’t think their apartment has ever looked this clean, this austere--even on the day they moved in.

“You’re, ah,” he says, trying not to making his goggling obvious. “This is a nice place.”

“Thank you. Here, please. Sit.”

The couch is khaki-colored and freaking immaculate. He sits gingerly, watches Shiro fold himself on the other end and curl up in the blanket.

“Sorry,” Shiro says, a little pink in his cheeks. “I’m always cold.”

“No, it’s--it’s your house. You don’t have to apologize. I mean, you should see what Hunk does.”

“Hunk?”

“He’s my roommate,” Keith says. “Nice guy, great cook. Prone to bunny slippers and this big, fluffy robe like the second he gets home from class. He likes to be comfortable, he says. I think he’s worn pajamas to school more than once this week. Has this pair of Doctor Who sweatpants that he--” He stops, stumbles over his own tongue. “Shit, I’m babbling, aren’t I? Sorry.”

Shiro’s smile is small and kind. “No, you’re not. He sounds like an interesting guy.”

“We’ve been best friends since high school. He’s, ah, he’s one of few people I’ve ever met who can see through my bullshit, you know? Who’s not afraid to call me on it. Who's really good at calling me on it, actually."

“And you appreciate that, I’m guessing?”

Keith laughs, a nervous exhale of breath. “God, yes. It’s easy for me to get tangled up inside my own head and Hunk, he never lets me stay there too long.”

“That’s good,” Shiro says. “Everybody needs someone like that.”

Something about the way that he says it kicks Keith back to reality, back to the reason he knocked on Shiro’s door in the first place, the reason he’s sitting on the guy’s couch at all. “But what about you? You said there’s nobody you can call to, um--to help?”

“No. There isn’t.” Shiro sighs. “There used to be. He used to live here, actually.”

“Oh,” Keith says. “Did you guys break up?”

“No. He died.”

“He--?”

“Died, a little less than a year ago. Got hit by a car on the way home from work. Crushed him and his bike. There wasn’t anything they could do. Died before the ambulance got there.”

“Fuck, Shiro.”

Shiro’s eyes are soft and sad. “Yeah. We’d been together five years, all through grad school, and it was--it took me a long time to really understand that he was gone.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t--I can’t even imagine what that must be like.”

Shiro pulls the blanket tighter and looks away, sends his eyes towards the windows. “You know what the funny thing is, Keith? Most days, I can't either."

“But--” Keith chews on the words, tries to find some diplomacy. “But if that happened a while ago, why are you--? I mean, how come you’re only, uh, experiencing this now?”

“You mean, why do I smell so goddamn sad?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Shiro’s face is still turned away but Keith can see the color in them, the blush becoming a blaze. “Because it’s my time. The first one since Adam died.”

“You’re in heat?”

“Yes.”

Keith nearly falls off the couch. “But you--you can’t be! You don’t smell at all like you’re--”

“I know!” Shiro barks, so loud the cat startles. He turns to Keith with wide, frightened eyes. “I know I don’t smell right! I don’t feel right, either. That’s what I’m trying to tell you: something’s wrong with me.”

“What?”

“It feels like--it feels like everything in me’s been dampened, you know? Like I’m being smothered from the inside out, like my heat is--” He stops, his mouth working around words that won’t quite form. “I don’t know how it is for you, but my heat’s always made me feel like I’ve swallowed a forest fire. As if there are flames inside me trying to eat their way out. Does that make sense?”

Keith nods. For him, it’s always felt like lava, like his body is doing all it can to pull him into a volcano bit by burning bit. “It does.”

“Well, now I feel like I’m trapped in a room full of smoke. I know there’s a fire somewhere off in the distance, I can feel it, but all I can do is choke on these great, awful gray clouds of smoke and dead ash. It’s been almost a week, Keith, and I can’t find the goddamn flames.”

“Did you see a doctor?”

Shiro shakes his head, gray waves tumbling over his eyes. “No,” he says, adamant, “no way. A doctor can’t fix this. Nobody can.”

“What? Come on, Shiro. That’s crap. You said yourself you don’t know what this is, why you’re feeling this way. Why you’ve felt this way for a whole fucking week.” There’s a blur of fury in his head, a strong desire to grab this guy by the shoulders and shake him. “You’ve gotta let somebody help you, or at least see if they can.”

“Adam’s dead.” Shiro’s voice is a dull knife. “Nobody can change that.”

The words pound out before Keith can stop them. “You’re not the first person ever who’s lost their mate. You get that, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said. Other people have been through this, they must have. Somebody’s gotta know what to do.”

Shiro makes a low noise in his throat. “Don’t. It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe it is! Maybe if you stopped moping around here, stopped wallowing in your self-appointed martyrdom or whatever, and asked somebody for help, you might be able to feel better!”

“I asked you to come in, didn’t I?!”

The air in the whole place goes still, still like it’s frozen, still like the room’s turned to stone. They stare at each other. Stare, until the hair on Keith’s neck is up and standing, until Shiro’s face falls out of fierce and into embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” Shiro says, strained. He's as white as the walls. “I didn’t mean that. Not like that sounded.”

“It’s ok.”

“No, please don’t do that. It’s not. It’s the opposite of ok, it’s--”

There’s a storm in Keith’s head, a roar of rain and uncomfortable thunder, and it’s only when he stands up, stumbles, that he realizes how close they’d gotten, how far across the couch he’d somehow slid without even knowing; his knees are brushing Shiro’s blanket. “It’s fine,” he spits out. “I mean, I’m fine. I know you didn’t mean, ah, but I need to--I’ve gotta go.”

“Of course,” Shiro says. Keith watches him swallow, watches him try in vain to look calm again, cool. “Of course. Are you ok to--?”

“I can find the door,” Keith says, far too loud, his voice ringing in his own burning ears. “No problem.”

He ducks out in a rush, pretends he doesn’t hear Shiro calling Nice to meet you. Pretends he doesn’t want to turn back and call: You, too .

What the hell, his brain says as he books it back across the hall, grabs his bag and keys in as fast he fucking can. What the hell was that?

It stays in a loop all afternoon and long into the night: What the hell. What the hell .

“Dude,” Hunk says during a rerun of Chopped: omelets without eggs. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m good.”

“Really? Because that’s the second beer you’ve knocked over in ten minutes and we’re not made of money here, bub.”

“Sorry,” Keith says, scrambling, tipping his can back towards the vertical. “My bad.”

He can feel Hunk’s side eye. “Mmmhmm. You wanna talk about it?”

“What?”

“Whatever it is that’s not wrong.”

“Seriously, man. I’m fine. Just tired or something.”

“Or something.”

“Hunk.”

Hunk holds up his hands. “Hey, man,” he says. “Sure. You’re fine. Of course you are. Look at you over there, being so ok.”

He gets the can to his lips and manages a long, bitter gulp. “Right.”

He begs off after the third episode and goes to bed early, lies in the dark begging his head to turn off. It doesn’t.

Shiro’s face drifts behind his eyelids, drawn and pale and sad until suddenly it wasn’t, until his head had snapped around and he’d said:

I asked you to come in, didn’t I?!

But he hadn’t meant it, had he. That’d been the sadness talking, the frustration, the grief. Shiro had painted himself into some sort of weird corner and Keith--someone he didn’t know, had never said two words to before--had been the first to call him on it, that’s all. Keith had been the first to offer any help (or the first that Shiro had listened to? Who knew) and that was all it was, what Shiro had said: an acknowledgement of how hard it’d been to take that first step, to make that first small gesture towards hope.

He hadn’t meant--he didn’t want Keith. He didn’t know Keith and Keith sure as hell didn’t know him. Didn’t want him. Wasn’t lying in bed thinking about him, this incredibly attractive man who lived across the hall; his neighbor, practically a stranger, who moved with a careful sort of grace, who was always cold, who was probably in his own bed right now under a whole stack of blankets, shivering, shivering, swimming in smoke and dying for the fire to break.

Keith can't imagine what that would feel like, having his heat right there, seemingly at the ready, but always just out of his reach. He doesn't crave his heats, like some, didn’t spend a whole year dreaming of the day he’d wake up and know nothing but hunger, want nothing more than the hands of another alpha, a long, soothing tongue, big hands to hold him down or hold him up and give to him willingly, take. No, he doesn't crave heat but he can't imagine what it would be like to feel only its edges, to have the worst of the flames dance and flicker out of his hold. He thinks of Shiro’s face; imagines it contorted by the fear that his grief would never end, that he would pass each and every day stuck body and soul in the past, all that he was waiting for a key in the lock, the sound of a footstep, a scent that had passed from this world never to be seen again.

He tucks his face deep into his pillow and lets the tears fall from his face. All he’d done, he realizes, shivering under thin, cold sheets, was to make everything that much worse.

Oh, Shiro, he thought. You poor, sad bastard. Are you sorry that you let me in?

He dreams of not breathing, he dreams of Shiro’s eyes, he dreams of a weight that settles on his chest, an anvil; when he touches it, tries his best to push it away, it feeds him handfuls of petals, white and gray and cool, that smooth their way over his body, drift down to touch every inch of his flesh.

They’re so heavy, he says.

Yes, someone says in his ear. A burden. But they’re beautiful, too, aren't they?

Yes, he echoes, turning his face towards the voice as petals drift blind over his eyes. Yes.

*****

When he wakes up, it’s too early, six fucking thirty, and his bed is a mess. The sheets are twisted around his legs and both pillows are on the other side of the room. He’s sweating. His head hurts like a motherfucker. He feels sick.

He stumbles to the bathroom and tugs off his boxers and it’s only when he’s in the shower, standing under scalding water that’s colder than his skin that his addled head gets its shit together and tells him what he should already know, what his body can already feel:

“Oh, fuck,” he says to the soap, to Hunk’s rubber duck. “I’m in heat.”

“But you can’t be!” Hunk says, his eyes wide with alarm. “You just were, like, three months ago!”

Keith nods and pulls open the fridge. It feels like he’s moving in slow motion. “I know, dude. I know.”

Hunk reaches past him and snags a Gatorade, pushes it into Keith’s hands. “Is that--is that a thing that can happen? I feel like you would’ve told me if it was. I mean, I’m sure Pidge’ll let me stay at her place, that’s cool, I don’t mind a last-minute relocation, but come on, Keith: an extra bonus heat you had no idea was coming? That seems bad.”

“It’s not good.”

“Right. Exactly. Right.” Hunk’s hands fly around, nervous energy with no place to go. “So what do we do?”

Keith laughs, a high sound that’s more like a howl, and it must be freaky because Hunk legit takes two big steps away. “Honestly? I have no fucking clue.”

#sheith #a/b/o dynamics #college au #hurt/comfort

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lovelivingmydreams · 5 years

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Lukanetteweek day 7: Future

Day 1 music Day 2 family & Day 3 confession Day 4 Miraculous part 1 & Part 2 Day 5 Ice skating & Day 6 blush

Ten years had passed since Luka Coufaine and Marinette Dupain-Cheng had started dating. And it was five years since the last time anyone in Paris had seen Ladybug, Chat Noir or Hawkmoth. Not that there weren’t any miraculous holders around anymore. Quite the contrary. Mulmouse sighed as she looked over her beautiful city. “A beautiful night for a patrol Princess.” A voice behind her called. Mulmouse smiled and looked back. “Monarch, there you are.” The new holder of the butterfly miraculous was a blond handsome man. His costume resembled that of a musketeer. A rapier at his side, antena’s on his hat instead of a feather. His cape represented his namesake’s wings. Brown boots went up mid-calve revealing black pants, a warm orange vest appeared from beneath his black soubreveste. Instead of the Christian cross, he wore an M. M for Miraculous. His blond hair peeked from underneath his hat. The black mask framed the familiar green eyes. Though they were no longer catlike when he transformed. Mulmouse was happy to see that he hadn’t gone through with his plan to grow a mustache and a goatee to complete his look. It would be too weird. “It’s a pleasure as always to serve you,” the young man vowed as he bowed for the woman with the midnight black buns. Her costume had changed since her teen years. While the coloration had stayed the same black and grey with pink highlights she’d made some changes to the full body suit concept. She now wore black boots that reached up to her mid-thigh and ended in pink fur. Long black gloves covered most of her arm to once again end with a ring of pink fur. This all paired with grey thighs and a grey, formfitting jacket with a fur collar. What had stayed the same was the jump rope tail, the mask and the pink ribbons in her hair. “Don’t let my husband hear you say that.” She teased looking back to the city. “How is Viperion these days? I haven’t seen him since before my world tour.” “Sleep deprived. The kids are keeping us both busy. He would’ve come out but we couldn’t get a babysitter, Still when I heard you were back in town… I couldn’t wait until Monday to catch up.” Monarch sat himself next to her, smiling flattered. Even if they never ended up together as he’d once hoped they would, the former cat and ladybug wielders were closer than any of the other holders. Such was their nature. “I heard there was quite the exclusive party tomorrow. Weren’t you invited?” he knew she was of course. His little mouse had organized the whole happening after all. She giggled “I am. But I wanted some time with just the two of us without having to be hostes… How’s Plagg?” she wondered. “Happy to be on holyday. Thanks for not making me hand him over by the way, after everything.” He gently touched the empty ring on his hand. The kwami it belonged to was at home, taking a nap in between the yet to be unpacked boxes. “Of course! I couldn’t bare to part with Tikki unless I had to. And she hasn’t so much as hinted at needing to go back in the box ever. Why would I deny you Plagg?” It was meant rhetorically but still he answered. “You’re father isn’t the cause of all this.” This earned him a shove. Not even a playful one. “Don’t talk like that. You were never at fault for what he did. And when you found out you managed to get away and find me so we could take him down. Even whit all of that information dumped on you, you still did the right thing. You did your mother proud. I know it. Should I bring along Dussuu to remind you?” Monarch smirked and shook his head. “I don’t think I’d be able to handle her right now.” They fell back in silence. “Are you going to visit them?” she asked carefully. He just shrugged. “I did. A few times. Mayura’s health is almost entirely back to normal.” She saw his shoulders relax at that. “Hawkmoth couldn’t even look at me,” this made him tense back up. “Nor should he! He could’ve killed you!” They both sat in stunned silence. Neither of them had ever before put in words what had almost happened that last battle. Mulmouse sighed, scooted closer and hugged her friend. “Yeah, I know.” Paris didn’t know this, barely any of the other holders knew, but during that last epic fight Chat Noir and Ladybug had cornered Mayura and Hawkmoth. Mayura barely holding on to her transformation, Hawkmoth desperately lashing out. His sword drawn he’d charged for a stunned Ladybug. Only a last moment reflex had kept the blade from running through her stomach. Chat had pounced on the villain in blind rage. At this point he knew the girl behind the mask, he also knew that he’d lost his chance. That didn’t mean that anyone would ever get away with hurting his lady, his princess. “Are you insane! Is killing a teenager really how far you’re willing to go? She’s someone’s child! She’s someone’s best friend. She’s the love of someone’s life! How dare you try to take her away from them?” This had snapped Hawkmoth out of his desperate rage. His broche gave out and none other than Gabriel Agreste fell to his knees. Chat had snatched the broche away as the man fell apart. Realizing what he’d become by not dealing with his grief. Chat and Ladybug had handed him and Mayura, Gabriel’s assistant Nathalie, over to the police. Though Nathalie had to be rushed to a hospital. The peacock Miraculous was to be kept safe until Marinette, the new guardian of the miraculous, found a way to repair it. The butterfly was handed to Gabriel’s son, her partner. Both agreed that Ladybug and Chat Noir weren’t needed anymore, but that the world would always need heroes. And so Paris had now eighteen resident superheroes. Though most of the year they were spread all over the world due to the whims of life. Except this weekend. Monarch had calmed down and Mulmous had released her embrace though she still sat by his side. “I tried to follow your tour a bit. You’ve made quite a name for yourself,” she probed gently, trying to lean towards a more pleasant subject. “Well… Yeah, Sorry for leaving on you like that.” He looked down as he remembered how sudden he’d left a year ago. “Hey I understood why. No one here was waiting for a new butterfly hero. Which was stupid since the two of you are nothing alike… You know I would’ve stood up for you right? I already was. I mean, they’re much more positive and supportive of Monarch, of you now, but you shouldn’t have felt like you had to prove yourself literally everywhere else first.” Mulmouse shifted uncomfortable. A little mad at how much her partner had been hurting without telling her. “I know, which was all the more reason to leave. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if people treated Mulmouse with suspicion because you associated yourself with me. A bad reputation is hard to get rid of. That’s why my father always put so much effort in me having a good one. That’s what allowed me to save enough of the company he built to…” he caught himself and changed his reasoning slightly. “maintain a stable income for College and travels.” Mulmouse nodded, unaware of his slip up. “Yeah. The company hasn’t crumbled in your absence by the way,” she informed him. He nodded, he hadn’t been worried for a second. He hadn’t counted on her giving birth to twins of all things. Still. If there was anyone who could juggle keeping a multi million company afloat, being a mother of three, a wife, a friend, a designer and a superhero, it would be his Princess. “How’s Tikki.” “Annoyed that her vacation is about to be over.” They both laughed. It was clear that the two kwami’s shared a deep love for one another, but Tikki loved giving Plagg a hard time even more. “Let’s give the city a sweep before your husband thinks I’ve kidnapped you.” Mulmouse rolled her eyes but followed.

The next day was a rush of preparations. The party was being held in one of the company’s many multipurpose rooms. Usually it was used for fashion shows or photoshoot stages. Today it was a reunion of their old class and in a deeper sense of all the heroes of Paris, plus one oblivious civilian everyone hoped would stay away.

Marinette had made a miniature version of the venue, supposedly to show the people assisting her to set everything up what she wanted where so they didn’t need to ask her every five minutes.

But she also planned to hang it up on the roof so the Kwami’s would have a little party of their own overlooking their chosens.

It had taken them most of the day, but finally everything was perfect. The theme was akuma’s. Everyone would come in outfits inspired by their akumatized selves. Had Marinette made most of these outfits herself? Yes.

Did all profits go to a charity that focused on helping people with mental health issues? Of course.

She sighed satisfied as she secured the kwami dancefloor on the roof. As a teenager she’d never risked this little balancing act. But she had gotten better about keeping her balance. She got down and picked up the box with miniature chairs and snacks for the kwami’s. Her first guests were due to arrive in an hour. Tikki and Mulou had offered to help, but this was her idea, her party, she would do this on her own. She finished setting up the kwami party and looked at her work with satisfaction. Everything was ready.

Suddenly she was grabbed and carried away. She caught a glimps of the elevator shaft and then she was in her office, sitting on her desk and entangled in a passionate kiss with her husband, or as he was right now, Viperion.

Once they let go of each other he muttered “Scales off” and captured his wife’s lips once again. This time as his civilian self. Luka Coufaine.

“Madame Coufaine, you were missed last night. And this morning you were gone before I even got out of bed,” he whispered as he made a trail of kisses down her throat. She let out a breathy laugh.

“Were my children dissatisfied without their mother there?” she wondered.

“Your children were alright, though the twins clearly prefer being fed by their mother. Your husband on the other hand can’t help but feel restless when his wife is off in the city of love with some dashing superhero.” He pulled her in a close embrace nuzzling his face against the space where her neck and shoulder met. His tone was earnest but not void of humor.

“Might I remind my husband that he is a very dashing superhero himself,” she said while stroking his shoulder length hair. The turquoise tips had remained with him even into adulthood.

His clothing style had matured but still channeled his love for rock music and his love for his wife since every single piece of clothing he wore right now was something she’d made for him. Black jeans with a turquoise snake slithering up his left leg. A black shirt with turquoise lining underneath a jeans jacket with an open snakemouth on the back.

Luka hummed against her skin. She couldn’t help but relax in his embrace.

“Let’s hope no one saw my dashing hero kidnap me here. Imagine the gossip,” she joked.

“Your people let in your husband. Viperion only appeared when I found you all alone on top of a dangerous ladder.”

She chuckled. “And of course you had to save me from any possible harm. And after that you helped yourself to your prize,” she summarized. Luka hummed in confirmation.

“Where are our little angels?” she wondered.

“Getting ready for the party. Did the babysitters RSVP?” he checked as he handed her a coathanger that held her dress for the evening.

“Yup. And they better show, I put effort in their dresses after all.” She muttered as she walked into the small bathroom. One of the perks of being the CEO’s second in command.

She got changed as quick as she could. Since she and Adrien were a) hosting and b) never akumatized they were going to attend as Hawkmoth and Mayura. She’d designed a dapper costume for Adrien and for herself a stylish dress, not that it was hard with the classy costumes she took inspiration from. If she had to give the villains one complement it would be their sense for style. Even if Hawkmoth rarely showed it when designing super villain costumes.

She put up her hair in a single stylish bun, adorned with a few small synthetic peacock feathers.

She added peacock themed hangers to her studs and put on a necklace of linked, metal feathers.

Finally a dash of blue eyeshadow and lipstick. Blue mascara and a silver tip to her lashes and she was good to go. She hadn’t put this much thought in her looks since her wedding day.

She walked out of the bathroom to find her husband changed and looking at himself a slight scowl on his face.

“Are you alright dear?” she asked. Luka turned and his mouth fell open. Once upon a time this would’ve made her a blushing, blubbering mess. She had more self-control now.

She spun around for him slowly, showing off everything her dress had to show.

“What do you think?” she asked misschieviously.

“That I can’t let you anywhere near anyone looking like that. And that we better get down or I’m going to ruin that dress.” Marinette chuckled, though she hadn’t forgotten his sour mood of a few moments ago.

“What was bothering you?” she pushed gently.

Luka sighed. “The costume just reminded me of that day…” He looked away, ashamed of his confession.

“It’s okay. We worked past that didn’t we?” Luka nodded.

“We did. Still, it’s not a memory I’m fond off.” He walked towards the window, unable to look her in the eye. Onichan. That had been his name. Lila Rosi had been his trigger. He’d visited his sister’s school to talk to her and his girlfriend before classes started. Rosi had tried to worm her way in the conversation, Luka, sensing the distress this brought Mari had tried to block her off. Juleka however had engaged with her. Mari had been called over by her friend Alya and he’d encouraged her to get out of there.

Lila had immediately started to try and appeal to him. Spouting out stories about how tight she and Ladybug were and did she mention when she met Jagged Stone? Luka had dismissed her politely keeping an eye out for Marinette, making sure she was alright. Things changed when Juleka noticed her brother’s discomfort and told Lila that she was crossing a line.

Lila dismissed her with a sickenly sweet voice. “I’m just being friendly. I get that you’re confused about how normal girls act around guys.”

This had set off a fire in Luka’s soul. He’d blown off against Lila. He would not stand for someone making his sister feel like anything other than normal.

The bell rang and Lila had given him a fake apology a hug and a warning that if he ever embarrassed her like that again his little baker girl would face the consequences.

He’d stormed off and before he even fully walked out the gate he got hit by an akuma.

Onichan was there to protect his sister and all his loved ones from those who sought to do them harm.

“Luckily you can just feel that way nowadays without worrying about a little butterfly making things worse,” he muttered. He felt a small frame press against his back as Marinette hugged him from behind.

“Everyone here tonight had their low moments. Even me and Adrien. What matters is how we learn from them and walk on towards the future. Will you come with me?”

She let go and held out her hand. He smiled.

“Always.”

I’ll probably add a little extra treat one of these days. The party should be fun to write at least.

#lukanette week #mlshipfleet #miraulous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #mlb #lukanette #adrigami #djwifi #Julerose #Nathaniel/marco #fic

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imagine-loki · 5 years

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of numbers and strange friendships

TITLE: Of Numbers and Strange Friendships CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 9/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki being friends with Peter Parker RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: None so far. Also on Ao3 here

“Hey, Loki,” Peter greeted Loki as he came into the common room of the tower, tossing his school bag on the couch carelessly. It had been over a week since Loki had been invited over to family dinner. Loki was still surprised ever time when Peter no longer called him ‘Mr.’ He kept waiting for the formality to come back and it never did.

He didn’t understand why it never came back.

And he couldn’t help being pleased by the development.

Even though Loki was having a bad day.

“What’s the number today?” Peter asked as he fwumped comfortably onto the couch, pulling out web fluid notes to go over with Loki to see if they could improve the formula.

“Six,” Loki replied, then paused, considering the day he was having with Stark being an ass. “And a half,”

Stark huffed from nearby and rolled his eyes. He was the one getting on Loki’s nerves today. He kept poking and prodding at Loki’s temper, especially right before Peter was due to arrive. “Why? How are they friends? And how do we make it stop?” He whined. He wanted Peter away from Loki’s bad influence.

Thor clapped Stark on the shoulder. “Fear not, Man of Iron. The friendship is good for both of them. As to how,” Thor shrugged “Relatively speaking, they are of an age,”

“What?!? He’s like a thousand years old and the kid is 15!” Stark protested.

Thor laughed. “We live for roughly five thousand years. By Midgardian standards, Loki would be roughly a few years older than the young spider, but not unreasonably so for them to be friends,”

Peter smirked and got to his feet, donning his Spiderman suit a moment later. He took Loki’s hand to haul him to his feet. “C’mon, let’s go patrol,” he told Loki and dragged him out of the tower while Loki laughed and let his armor shimmer into place.

They patrolled for petty crime, which was ridiculous and silly. And so… petty. And yet, it made Peter so happy to help normal everyday people with normal everyday problems. It wasn’t fighting Hydra, monsters, and aliens. It was stopping robbers and pickpockets. Helping retrieve cats from trees. There was always some petty crime going on in New York, so they always found something to do.

Loki didn’t mind helping out especially since, if he was having a bad day especially, Peter wouldn’t say anything if he had a little fun with his victims when they left them for the police. Peter did insist on rules about Loki’s fun, which made it slightly less enjoyable, but even he had to admit the rules were… reasonable. Loki wasn’t allowed to permanently harm, disfigure, or kill, any of the criminals.

So Loki had to settle for mischief and embarrassment.

Which led to a LOT of naked webbed up criminals with magically dyed hair and mustaches drawn on with sharpie. The notes of their crimes were very conveniently placed, but the criminals were thoroughly embarrassed and Loki had his fun.

One Monday, Peter didn’t come by after school. That wasn’t too strange. Peter didn’t come by every day.

Just basically every day.

In fact, Loki couldn’t remember a day that Peter hadn’t come by at least for a minute to grab a bite to eat. The fridge was always full and growing boys on every realm were starving creatures.

But…

Had Peter seemed off the last couple of days?

Had Loki not noticed something?

It was just a day, surely it was nothing.

Peter didn’t come by Tuesday either.

Loki tried not to sound worried when he asked if anyone had seen the brat. They told him that they hadn’t, but they were sure it was nothing to worry about.

Stark said he’d needed the day off for something.

On Wednesday, Loki actually got his phone out and texted the boy. <Are you alright, arachnid?>

There was no response

On Thursday, Loki teleported outside of Aunt May’s apartment and knocked on the door politely.

Then less politely.

Then pounded on the door.

And then broke Aunt May’s no teleportation rule and teleported into the apartment.

It was empty, though there should have been someone home at that hour.

On Friday, Loki risked breaking Peter’s trust. He was deeply concerned about his friend. He didn’t tell anyone about what he was planning, but Thor knew he was up to something. “Brother, whatever you are planning, do not. The spider child will not appreciate you prying into his private matters. He would tell us what is going on if he wishes for us to know,”

“What if something has happened to him? What if he is injured or worse? No one has heard from him in days and he is part of this team!” Loki replied hotly. He was past caring that they would think him a sentimental fool. His friend was missing.

“Stark said the child is not injured,”

“Stark has heard from him?!” Loki demanded and before Thor could reply went to confront Stark as to the location of his brat. Thor followed, concerned about his brother’s behavior.

Stark was in the common room with the rest of the team. “Stark,” Loki snarled to get Stark’s attention. He looked up from the Jarvis screen he’d been working on.

“What’dya want, Reindeer Games?”

“You know where the little spider is?” Loki demanded and tried to keep the desperation for answers from his voice.

Stark nodded and looked like he had a sarcastic comment prepared, but he must’ve caught the desperate gleam in Loki’s eyes. “He’s been sick. At the hospital. They just sent him home today. He should be there by now,”

The hospital?

But Midgardians needed to be desperately ill to go there.

Especially Midgardians like Peter who did not have much money.

Without a word Loki teleported directly outside of Aunt May’s apartment. It took every ounce of his willpower not to teleport directly inside. He knocked politely at the door. It took a minute and he heard someone moving around before Aunt May opened the door. “Loki… Peter isn’t feeling well,” she tells him and tries to close the door again.

Loki held it open. “Please? Please let me see him. We’ve been-” he shook his head. “I have been so worried about him,” he admitted the genuine care he felt for the arachnid and let Aunt May see how worried he’d been.

She sighed and opened the door. “Alright, but don’t pressure him if he’s not up to company,” she told him firmly. Sometimes she was so easily bowled over by Loki’s charm. At other times she treated him just like any of Peter’s other friends.

Loki offered her a polite bow, his manners slipping to the proper manners of home in his nerves as he stepped past her to Peter’s room. He knocked tentatively on the door. “Arachnid? Will you let me in? Please?” Loki asked and even he could hear the fear in his voice at what he’d find inside. Or worse, that Peter would send him away.

“Loki? You can come in,” Peter sounded nervous. Unwell. His voice weaker, younger than usual.

Loki tentatively cracked open the bedroom door to find Peter in bed under the covers. Loki slipped in and closed the bedroom door behind him. “Stark said you were unwell. That you had been in the hospital,” Loki said gently as he came in and sat on the edge of Peter’s bed as the teen sat up. He looked pale and wan. He shouldn’t. He had super powers, super healing. He should not look or be ill.

Peter nodded and looked suddenly shy. “I had to switch medications and had a bad reaction to the new one,” he told Loki softly. “Even my healing factor couldn’t handle an allergic reaction to medication…”

“Medication?” Loki asked concerned. That sounded like a long term illness.

Peter nodded, blushed, looked away embarrassed.

“Arachnid,” no that wasn’t right. Not for this conversation “Peter, please, you are my best friend on this realm. You know I will not hurt you. I will not tease or make fun of you, not over something important like this. Please trust me,” Loki’s voice was nearly a beg as he pleaded with the teen to let him help, to at least tell him what was wrong.

It was the first time Loki had called Peter by his name.

Please trust me had begged to god of mischief.

Please trust me had begged the lord of lies.

He had begged.

He would go down on his knees and truly beg if that’s what it took to help his friend.

Peter turned even more red and looked down at his lap. He paused a long, long, torturously long minute before he spoke again. “The medication I’m on is to help… transition…” the kid is clearly looking for words and Loki waited patiently for him to find the words he needed. “I was born in a girl’s body, but I’m not a girl,” he finally settled on, his voice getting vehemence in his defense of his gender. “The medication is to help me be me until I can make the transition through surgery…”

He wouldn’t look at Loki while he spoke, while he admitted these things.

Loki realized he’d been bullied for this before.

The boy had soul wounds from people not accepting who he was.

If Loki could understand anything about the young man, it was that.

Loki folded the young man into his arms, pulling Peter to him. “You thought I would not understand? I who have no gender? Who is both male and female? I understand more than anyone, my friend, and would never, ever turn you away for such a thing,” he told the young man sobbing out his heartbreak into Loki’s shoulder.

Loki wanted to kill every single person who had helped add to the soul wound on Peter’s heart, who had led to the tears being shed now.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #Chapter 9 #Of numbers and strange friendships #nekoamamori

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dotsonabrahamsen63-blog · 5 years

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Remembering Stan Lee: The Amazing Origin Story Of The Marvel Comics Scribe

Strangely enough, Lee said he would cast himself as the opposite of all that in his own imagination, drawing a comparison to the cynical, Stan Lee Thank You For The Memories Shirt uncompromising newspaper editor J. Jonah Jameson. “I’m very frustrated that by the time they made the movie I was too old to play the role,” Lee said. “I modeled him after me. He was dumb and loudmouthed and opinionated. Of all the characters he helped create, Peter Parker remained his favorite. “In a way Spider-Man is more special than the others,” he said. What made him Lee’s favorite? “Nothing ever goes right for Peter. I think for most people in the world, nothing ever goes right. He hates people he’s never seen — people he’s never known — with equal intensity — with equal venom. “Now, we’re not trying to say it’s unreasonable for one human being to bug another. But, although anyone has the right to dislike another individual, it’s totally irrational, patently insane to condemn an entire race — to despise an entire nation — to vilify an entire religion. Sooner or later, we must learn to judge each other on our own merits. Sooner or later, if man is ever to be worthy of his destiny, we must fill our hearts with tolerance. For then, and only then, will we be truly worthy of the concept that man was created in the image of God ― a God who calls us ALL ― His children. 2.99. Available in North America and Europe. Oscorp Search & Destroy Pack - In The Amazing Spider-Manvideo game, Spider-Man has his own smartphone to help navigate around Manhattan, locate missions and challenges and fight crime. With this pack, Spider-Man's smartphone will feature two mini-games inspired by classic arcade fun. 2.99. Available in North America and Europe. Lizard Rampage Pack - The notorious Lizard is on the loose again in Manhattan! Take on the role of Dr. Connors' terrifying alter ego in a race against time. Go berserk through the streets using his devastating stomp attack and tail swipe to defeat Oscorp guards and earn mega points.

Lee knew his work was different, proudly noting that stories were drawn out over several issues not to make money but to better develop characters, situations and themes. He didn’t neglect his villains, either. One, the Moleman, went bad when he was ostracized because of his appearance, Lee wrote, adding it was “almost unheard of in a comic book” to explain why a character was what he was. Lee’s direct influence faded in the 1970s as he gave up some of his editorial duties at Marvel. But with his trademark white mustache and tinted sunglasses, he was the industry’s most recognizable figure. The Amazing Spider-Man is getting a whole bunch of DLC today, including a few different packs that will have you playing as people other than the titular wall-crawler. The Lizard Rampage pack will open up a level where you play as the Lizard, along with a new Spidey suit to wear. 49.99 on Steam, including complete integration with Steam achievements. A Nintendo 3DS demo is also now available in the Nintendo eShop. Rhino Challenge Pack - Take control of the massive, genetically engineered villain Rhino and rampage around Manhattan in an exclusive gameplay challenge of pure destruction! As Rhino, players will be able to unleash his formidable powers to destroy anything and everything in his path in a timed event full of speed, combo streaks, and of course, a ton of things to break! The Associated Press in a 2006 interview. Lee considered the comic-book medium an art form and he was prolific: By some accounts, he came up with a new comic book every day for 10 years. He hit his stride in the 1960s when he brought the Fantastic Four, the Hulk, Spider-Man, Iron Man and numerous others to life. His heroes, meanwhile, were a far cry from virtuous do-gooders such as rival DC Comics' Superman. The Fantastic Four fought with each other. Spider-Man was goaded into superhero work by his alter ego, Peter Parker, who suffered from unrequited crushes, money problems and dandruff.

XXX in the world of comic books were awesome. I happen to think they’re not exactly what a lot of people think but I don’t doubt their size and endurance. I knew him since 1970, worked for him a few times, talked with him at length and fielded an awful lot of phone calls from him asking me questions about comic books he worked on. He really did have a bad memory, if not when he first started telling people he had a bad memory, then certainly later on as he turned more and more into the Stan Lee character he’d created for himself. That’s all I’m going to write now. That’s where it begins and ends with me. To those of us who have been so deeply affected by the humanity of his imagination, the understanding of reaching beyond our potential and the necessity of tapping into our immeasurable imaginations, we thank you and are forever indebted. Rest In Peace Dear Stan. You made our time here a better one. What a man. What a life. When I first broke into Hollywood, he welcomed me with open arms and some very sage advice I’ll forever take to heart. A true icon who impacted generations around the world. Rest in love, my friend. I have to say I am deeply touched by the passing of Stan Lee… I always looked forward to seeing his cameo parts in all his great movies. 1 - Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there is a spiritual quality in all the Stan Lee movies… always the good guys win. Eventually, not always right away, but eventually. And his movies most of the time ended on an upbeat thought… that allowed us to ponder our existence. 2 - Stan Lee was also a man who could have been a musician but he was not good at music at all.

Legendary Marvel Comics co-creator Stan Lee — famous for giving the world beloved superheroes including Spider-Man, Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk — died Monday. According to TMZ, Lee suffered a number of illnesses over the last year, including pneumonia. His daughter J.C. told the site, “My father loved all of his fans. Lee was born Stanley Martin Lieber to Romanian-born Jewish immigrants in New York City, spending much of his early life in Washington Heights. He returned to Timely Comics in 1945 and married wife Joan two years later. In 1950, Timely Comics publisher Martin Goodman tasked Lee with creating a new superhero team to rival DC Comics’ Justice League. “Let’s lay it right on the line. Bigotry and racism are among the deadliest social ills plaguing the world today. But, unlike a team of costumed super-villains, they can’t be halted with a punch in the snoot, or a zap from a ray gun. The only way to destroy them is to expose them — to reveal them for the insidious evils they really are. The bigot is an unreasoning hater — one who hates blindly, fanatically, indiscriminately. If his hang-up is black men, he hates ALL black men. If a redhead once offended him, he hates ALL redheads. If some foreigner beat him to a job, he’s down on ALL foreigners. Stan Lee, the comic book mastermind who changed the landscape of the superhero genre, has died at age 95. Lee revolutionized the comic world by creating Marvel Comics superheroes such as Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four and The Incredible Hulk. An attorney for Lee's daughter, J.C. Lee, said the creative dynamo who revolutionized the comic world by introducing human frailties in superheroes such as Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four and The Incredible Hulk, was declared dead Monday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. In a statement to Fox News Shane Duffy, CEO of Stan Lee’s POW! I think everybody loves things that are bigger than life. I think of them as fairy tales for grown-ups," he told The Associated Press in a 2006 interview. "We all grew up with giants and ogres and witches. Well, you get a little bit older and you're too old to read fairy tales.

How long would this superhero movie thing last? He didn’t know. He was glad to be along for the ride. Happy to see the old characters he helped create being brought to life onscreen. We began talking about the origin of Spider-Man, born in 1962 after a string of other successes had made Stan Lee a powerhouse scribe at Marvel Comics. He had started working there when he was 17. Back then, Marvel Comics was known as Timely Comics, and he was known as Stanley Lieber, son of Jewish Romanian immigrants from the Bronx. His dream was to become a writer. But before any of that could happen, he earned cash by working a series of small jobs. As a theater usher, his first claim to fame was tripping and falling while showing Eleanor Roosevelt to her seat. “Are you all right, young man? Remember, this was six years before Iron Man and the launch of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The films were not yet interconnected, not that there were many to string together. Stan Lee cameos were not yet a phenomenon. He had played a beachside hotdog vendor in the X-Men film. That was it. (“You missed me?” he teased. “I was like the lead of the movie! ] idea was, I was selling sunglasses in Times Square and I was talking to this little girl, showing her a pair of glasses as Peter Parker walks by,” Lee recounted in his gruff, nasally voice. Think about the incredible characters that derived from the mind of this man. Iron Man, the X-Men, Thor, Daredevil and Dr. Strange. These are characters everyone knows and loves. Look at this list of Stan Lee's creations and think about which ones have gone onto success in other media as well as had very successful runs in comics. Every single one of them almost. Granted, a lot of that success is due to the efforts and contributions of those writers and artists who developed the characters through the years. But Stan Lee's fingerprint is on each and every one of them and will always be seen and felt. Can you name one single creator in comics that has contributed as much in terms of longevity, creativity and uniqueness? You can't because there are none. There are plenty of creators that have made great contributions and have written or drawn amazing characters and stories. But none can say they changed the face of the industry quite like Stan Lee can. No matter what happens from this day forward; no matter what superstar creators land at the Big Two. Stan Lee, Marvel Comics' own living legend, stands head and shoulders above the rest. LOS ANGELES (AP) — Stan Lee, the creative dynamo who revolutionized the comic book and helped make billions for Hollywood by introducing human frailties in Marvel superheroes such as Spider-Man, the Fantastic Four and the Incredible Hulk, died Monday. Lee was declared dead at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, according to Kirk Schenck, an attorney for Lee’s daughter, J.C. As the top writer at Marvel Comics and later as its publisher, Lee was widely considered the architect of the contemporary comic book. He revived the industry in the 1960s by offering the costumes and action craved by younger readers while insisting on sophisticated plots, college-level dialogue, satire, science fiction, even philosophy.

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