Nathanael lowered his arms, and the painting, back to his side. “What’s wrong with here?” he asked.
Chloe reclined on a chaise lounge, leisurely popping grapes into her mouth. “I don’t like the energy it gives off.” She held a grape out to her kwami, who relaxed on a miniature pillow that Chloe had commissioned just for her. “Wouldn’t you agree, Pollen?”
“Yup. Bad energy,” Pollen said around a mouthful of grape.
Nathanael glared at both of them. “What does that even mean?”
“It means the painting is better off somewhere else.” Chloe looked around her bedroom and pointed at an empty space on a wall near her door. “What about there? It’ll be the first thing everyone sees when they walk in.”
He carried the painting to the other side of the room. “Glad to know you aren’t embarrassed by me, at least.”
“Why would I be embarrassed by you? My taste is unquestionably perfect, so anyone I’m dating is perfect by default,” Chloe said. Then she sat up. “Wait! I don’t like the painting there, either.”
Nathanael groaned. “Why not?”
She tapped a manicured finger against her cheek. “Maybe the problem isn’t the painting, but the canvas. How much should I ask Daddy to pay you to recreate that on my ceiling?”
“I’m not painting a mural on your ceiling,” Nathanael said. “You have a canopy bed. You won’t even be able to see it.”
“I can take the canopy off,” she insisted.
He dragged himself over to the chaise lounge and kissed her forehead. “Chloe, I love you, but you really don’t make it easy for me, you know that?”
She pulled him down for a proper kiss. “Love isn’t supposed to be easy,” she said. “Now try over there again, but start thinking of a decent commission fee just in case.”
You scroll further down the Netflix suggestions. How is
it that they have literally every show and movie and yet you have absolutely
nothing for to watch? Ridiculous.
A gentle knock on your dorm room door makes you look up
from the fluorescent screen.
“Who is it?” you call out, just to be sure.
“Mendes.” You hear Shawn’s familiar voice reply softly,
probably to make sure your dorm mates couldn’t hear him.
You shut your laptop close before opening your door.
“Back so soon?” you raise an eyebrow, hand on your hip
as you widen the door enough for his large frame to walk through. Your eyes
drink in the sight of him in his grey sweatpants and white tee, a nice change
from his usual black skinny jeans and flouncy button ups.
“This time completely sober. Promise.” Shawn gives you a
small grin as a greeting.
“I’m surprised you remembered how to get here, considering
how drunk you were the last time.” You fake an impressed face as you took a
seat back on your bed.
“Hey, having fun is not a crime.” Shawn smirks easily.
“Plus, I was sober enough to remember where you put your spare dorm key.”
“Yeah, fortunately you got out quick enough before my
dorm mates woke up.” You rolled your eyes. “Would’ve given (Y/F/N) a heart
He lets out a little laugh, imagining your friend’s
reaction if she found his large frame sprawled on the couch in the morning.
Would probably spit out her organic juice from the shock.
“Why are you here, anyways?” you ask, realizing that
Shawn was still standing in the middle of the room. He’s always so easygoing
and comfortable that you hadn’t noticed the awkward position he was in.
“Why? Not excited to see me?” he fake pouts.
You glare at him playfully in reply.
He gestures to the little chair crammed into your small
dorm room and gives you a questioning look, asking for your permission to sit.
“Anyway,” he starts, plopping down on the uncomfortable
chair. His large frame drapes over the seemingly miniature furniture, your
throw pillow (that he sat on in his sleep the last time he was there) tucked
beneath his muscular arms. “My roommate’s got her girlfriend over. So,”
“Ugh.” You grimace.
Shawn has told you stories about his roommate before,
usually when the two of you walk back from the library after your tutoring
sessions. According to Shawn, he has the whole ‘tortured artist’ vibe, and he
has been a piano protégé since he was twelve. Shawn likes him enough, but
apparently chicks really digged piano players—digged them a little too much.
“Yeah,” Shawn gives you a look that says I know right. “Thought it’d be a good
idea to find a place to stay for the night.”
“So you’re dorm hopping?” you quirk an eyebrow, lips
pursing in amusement. You’d tease him playfully about it, the same way you do
about everything. But you know Shawn, and how much everyone loves him. Anyone
would gladly give up their couch or bed for him, if he asked. Not that he ever
would. He was a gentleman at heart and too polite in nature, despite his
playful demeanor. You don’t care, though—about him ending up in someone else’s
dorm. Shawn could stay at whomever’s he pleased, it had nothing to do with you.
“Don’t think I have much of a choice, unless I want to listen
to him getting it on with his girlfriend.” Shawn shivers in disgust.
“Gross.” You shake your head. “Spare me the grueling
“At least he’s not lonely.” Shawn shrugs. “Don’t think I
could stand it if the guy started playing depressing solos on the keyboard in
“Knock on wood, Mendes. What if they break up?” you
raise an eyebrow playfully.
“Oh my God,” Shawn sighs exaggeratedly. He extends his
arm to rapidly knock his knuckles on your wooden table. You pretend not to
notice the outlines of his biceps under his worn T-shirt. “No. Please. Anything but heartbreak
You laugh a little. Then, “Well, you can stay here.”
comes out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself. You clear your
throat. To seem less desperate, you add, “If you want to, of course.”
“Wha—“ Shawn looks taken aback. For a second, you’re
worried that you sound too eager. Then, you wonder if your snark has lead him
to believe that you’re incapable of kind gestures. “That’s not what I came here
Your stomach flutters at the implication; that he came
to your dorm room just to spend time with you. He wanted to hang out with
someone and you were his choice.
Of course he couldn’t have just texted or called you
like a normal 21st century person. Come to think of it, you don’t
think you’ve ever called or texted Shawn—except for that one time when you were
running late for one of your tutoring sessions (his fault, not yours, he
demanded muffins and the line was extra long at the café). The boy even emails you when you two hadn’t run in to
each other enough for him to ask about your History of The Arts 1 exams and
essays. Starts them with ‘Dear (Y/L/N),’
and everything (he ends them with ‘Lukewarmest
regards, your incredibly attractive somewhat-friend, Mendes’).
“Plus, you’ve got dorm mates.” Shawn snaps you out of
your thoughts. “I don’t think they would appreciate it if they found an
intruder asleep on their couch in the morning. Again.”
“Then sleep on my bed.” You shrug. Partially to hide the
warmth breaking out on your cheeks and the stammer of your heart. “I’ll take
“I can’t let you do that, (Y/N).” he looks at you
through hooded eyes. The use of your first name doesn’t get pass you.
You tuck the image into your memory, because it seems like
it would be the infatuated look he’d give if he were to pull you closer and
whisper loving words after you’ve just said something endearing. You feel like
a thief for claiming the image as your own, causing your cheeks to become
“Sure you can, Mendes.” you shrug again, praying that it
will be enough to feign nonchalance (and to fight off the oncoming blush). “I’m
(Y/N) your fair knight, remember?” you quote his drunken words he emitted the
last time he slept over.
“Shut up, (Y/L/N).” Shawn looks up at you through his
dark lashes. His eyes are warning but he’s suppressing a shy smile. You can
tell. His thicker lower lip is a little twisted.
“No, but for real.” You say, getting up to gather your
favorite pillow and the spare blanket. “Take the bed.”
“No—what?” Shawn is up in seconds, the throw pillow
somehow neatly sitting back in its place again. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous.” You argue, but a little
laugh escapes. “Seriously. It’s okay.”
“Uh, no. It’s not okay.” Shawn shakes his head
profusely. He’s smiling but he’s dead serious as he wedges himself between you
and your door. His large figure is towering over yours and sleepy heat is
radiating off of his body. “If you really want me to stay here then I’ll take the couch.”
“No, you already got the couch last time. Plus, I don’t really want you to stay here. But I know
you need to.” You’re smiling too, but a crease is starting to form between your
large hands swiftly enclose themselves around your wrists and you almost drop
the pillow and blanket from the sudden touch.
look up at him defiantly, trying your hardest to ignore the proximity between
“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.” He chuckles.
He’s half grinning that signature Mendes half-grin. He knows it’s charming,
knows he’s charming. But it doesn’t
work on you—at least not completely.
“Well I don’t care.” You fake a sweet smile for him.
“It’s my dorm. So, unless you’re
gonna find somewhere else to crash, you’ll sleep on my bed. It’s only fair.”
He hesitates, and for a second you think he might walk
away. Might walk out of your door and call up one of his many friends like a
normal 21st century person. You try not to think about the thought
hurting your feelings. Why would it matter where Shawn crashes for the night?
(And if he calls his other friends on the phone?).
“Fine.” He sighs. His eyes are still hesitant, still
searching yours for any sign of defeat or regret. There is none, of course.
“But only because you’re so pushy.”
“Wise choice, Mendes.” Your smile widens as you
re-gather your sleeping gear for the night. “Goodnight!” you stage whisper in a
“Goodnight.” Shawn smiles at you fondly. It’s the one he
gives you on the rare occasions when you team up and insult someone else
instead of each other, or when you bring his favorite muffins to your tutoring
You walk out the room and start setting up the couch.
Unlike Shawn during his last visit, you had the pillow at the edge of the
couch. You smile a little at the memory as you laid the blanket.
“(Y/L/N)?” you hear Shawn call out from your room, stage
whispering to ensure that your dorm mates won’t be disturbed
“Hmm?” you turn from your couch.
“Thank you.” He says and you can tell he’s being genuine
because he’s not smiling.
“You’re welcome, Shawn.” So he knows you’re serious,
Shawn gives you one last smile before disappearing
behind the doorframe. He doesn’t close the door, as if a teenager who needed
parental surveillance at all times. You hear the blankets rustle softly in your
room, and you crawl under the blanket on the couch yourself.
You think you hear Shawn wishing you sweet dreams but
your eyes fall shut before you can reply.
You groaned, recognizing the sound of your alarm blaring through your room. You
stirred, attempting to grab your phone charging next to your bed but something
heavy is weighing your hand down.
Your brows crease as you groggily try to open your eyes.
“Jesus.” You hear a sleepy voice mumble.
Your eyes open just in time to see Shawn’s confused
state as he abruptly awakes from his slumber. Then his free arm is shuffling,
and your alarm stops ringing. You realize that you’re now back in your bed,
under the blanket you fell asleep in last night.
“Oh, shit.” Shawn mutters, eyes wide as he realizes
where he is.
You take in the sight of his mess of curls and twisted
body on the floor next to your bed, covered in your spare blanket. You didn’t
even realize he’d been holding your hand until he snatches it back to furiously
rub at his eyes in an attempt to wake up. You almost whine at the loss of touch
and comforting heat.
“Were you sleeping on the floor?” you ask hoarsely, arms
propped up on the bed. You hoped he’d take the blush on your cheeks as a post-sleep-flush.
“I think I was.”
You watch him stretch his body, back cracking and legs stretching out. You avert your eyes once he starts stretching his arms that had
been folded on the bed next to you for who knows how long.
“’M sorry,” he chuckles, faintly shaking his head at his own antics. “I carried you back to bed last
night so I could sleep on the couch. Guess I didn’t make it back in time.”
“It’s okay,” you shrug, pretending to be unbothered by
the faint memory of his hand wrapped around yours. And the fact that he carried you back to bed in your sleep to ensure that you’d get a good enough rest.
“Thanks for letting me sleep over, (Y/L/N).” he’s back
to his grinning self now—up and ready to go. You wonder how he can be
completely relaxed and indifferent in such a situation, like this isn’t the
first time you’ve held hands or seen each other right after waking up. Or, you
know, slept next to each other. Maybe not in the same bed, but still.
Were you over-analyzing this? Probably. Most likely.
“You’re welcome.” You answer as casually as him. He’s
still grinning but doesn’t say anything. You realize that he’s waiting for a
witty comment. But you’re so caught up in his crumpled cotton shirt riding up
his torso that you end up silent for a little too long. “Uh, d-do you want
breakfast before you go, or something?”
“Nah,” he shakes his head, a little amused. “I’ve
definitely stayed my welcome.”
“It’s just bread and tea, not a gourmet dinner.” You
roll your eyes, confidence slowly returning as you kick your blanket off so you could get up.
You hear him hum as you open the door, and you know
you’ve got him. You gesture at him to follow you out of your room and he does,
just as you thought he would.
“I’ll stay for the tea.” He announces as he plops
himself on one of your small plastic dining chairs.
“And the peanut butter and jelly?” you raise an eyebrow,
a smile playing on your lips as you gather the jars and bread.
“You spoil me, (Y/L/N).” he grins up at you, leaning
back on the too-small chair.
You look down at the slice of bread you were spreading
jam over, letting your hair fall over your face to hide the blush creeping up
for the prompt thing, number 14 for clint and bucky. PLEEEEEAAAASEEEE :)
14. “I don’t have the words right now so here’s a kiss,” WinterHawk (FYI this is from the sometimes you’re shooting broken arrows in the dark verse.)
Days when Bucky woke
with a start, panting for breath and his thoughts a jumbled mix of English and
Russian and German, he preferred to stick to the vents where no one would
bother him. Best not to risk an incident and end the day locked in a cell.
Except that Clint
would be expecting him for breakfast soon. They were supposed to make pancakes
and see who could craft the dirtiest-looking shapes with the batter.
Bucky curled up
under his bed (which had been replaced with a lofted frame a week into his stay
at the tower, no doubt thanks to that interfering computer program) and pulled
the comforter up over his head. It never got dusty, nevermind that he never moved
it from the floor, and he wasn’t sure if that annoyed him or not.
He lay there, teeth
gritted, as he ran through scenarios in his head.
He could go and drag
Clint out of the gym and up to the communal kitchen like usual. If he stayed
silent and dodged Clint’s questions long enough, surely he’d stop pushing soon
enough and let Bucky keep his secrets to himself. But what if he got confused?
What if Clint managed to wear him down and he spoke out loud? Would his words
even come out in English? What if he demanded a new mission? Or what if the
Avengers alert went off and startled him when he was out in the open? Whoever
was in residence at the moment would start rushing around, preparing for
whatever crisis they were needed on, and with all those possible threats
surrounding him, arming themselves, he’d lash out, he knew he would, and if
Clint was the one closest–
So he could avoid
Clint for the day, then, search out new haunts within the tower’s
infrastructure to try and stay ahead of the damn computer’s tracking system.
Clint would understand later, but just because he got it, had an inkling as to
what Bucky was going through, didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be disappointed,
especially as the clock ticked down to the hour he generally made his first
appearance in Clint’s day and kept right on ticking while Bucky remained a
no-show. Clint’s face would keep up his typical brand of disinterest that he
defaulted to when he wasn’t trying to engage with someone, but his eyes would
actively shutter, and they’d no doubt stay that way even once Bucky showed his
It was unanimous, Hades was the best Godly parent.
He had gotten Nico and Hazel Sleep Number beds. Though they were hidden under miniature mountains (Nico’s with pillows and Hazel’s with stuffed animals and blankets)
When Will started sleeping in the Hades cabin (for medical reasons) he played with the remote on his side until he was a puddle of goo. “I am never leaving this bed!” He groaned. Sometimes Nico wondered if Will loved his bed more than him.
Not ones to be out done, Zeus and Poseidon bought their sons’ Sleep Numbers (one for each camp and one for Sally’s house for Percy, they thought they won until they heard that Nico had just as many)
And poor Will didn’t get one….until Christmas at his mortal home (after all he just uses Nico’s at Camp Half-Blood) Will’s mom had gotten one too, along with all of Will’s siblings.
Apollo won best dad of the year for that, until Hades gotten Nico demigod safe electronics, and a motorcycle
Dan shut the door behind him as they walked into his bedroom.
Phil was surprised to find that Dan’s room was very dull and white, despite his choice of dress.
“Your room. I wouldn’t in a million years guess it to be yours.” He heard Dan grunt a little.
Phil scanned the room, searching for any reminiscent of Dan. He found a couple of Muse discs on his bedside table, but nothing much else. He thought back to the few occasions where he had seen Dan’s locker and contrary to his room, it was extremely messy. Phil wondered if Dan actually lived here.
Phil turned back to find Dan staring intently at him, but watched as he quickly blinked and looked away.
“You listen to Muse?” Phil asked cheerfully, breaking the silence.
“Huh? Oh, yeah.”
“I love Muse!” A wide smile spread across.
Dan couldn’t help but internally die looking at other boy. Everything from the flowers laying in Phil’s hair to his pastel pink converse, made Dan want to claw his eyes out. Dan knew Phil had caught him staring.
“So, um, what did you want to talk about?” Dan asked, waking up from his trance.
“A couple of things. Can we sit?” Phil pointed to the bed and Dan just nodded.
Dan’s palms were sweating. As much as he had tried playing it off, Dan was just as nervous as Phil.
“Dan,” Phil began. “It’s just that,”
“It’s just that the last two years, we’ve never really talked.”
“And you wanna start now?” Dan lifted an eyebrow in attempt to conceal his anxiety.
“Maybe?” Phil replied meekly.
“Look, Phil. I’m not looking for a boyfriend if that’s what your here for.”
“I never said I was.” Phil said a defensive tone.
“Good.” Dan pointed at the door, inviting Phil to leave.
“You know what?” Phil looked suddenly enraged. He got up to leave, but then turned around to face at Dan again.
“What the hell is wrong with you? For years you’ve been messing with me and at first I thought I was just being crazy, but flash forward 2 years, I knew in my heart that for sure it must’ve meant something! Who goes around messing with someone that much unless they..” Phil paused.
Dan saw Phil’s flower crown fall from his head. He watched it hit the floor, but Dan didn’t dare look back up at Phil.
“Unless they like them.” Phil finished quietly.
Dan didn’t say anything for a while. He didn’t look at Phil either. Phil sighed and was about to sit back down on the bed before Dan spoke again.
“I think you should leave.”
“Why?” Phil’s voice was once again gentle. “Dan?”
“I don’t like you, Phil.” Dan’s voice showed no emotion.
“Okay, fine. Then why am I the only one that you mess with in school?”
“I’ll stop, okay? Can you just leave now?”
“What, Phil?” Irritation began growing in his voice.
“I didn’t say I wanted you to stop.” Dan looked at Phil now.
“Then why did you come in the first place? It’s not like you’re into me or anything. I mean look at me.”
Phil did look at him. He looked into Dan’s eyes and noticed that a bit of eyeliner on his right eye was smudged. He looked at Dan’s nose to find a billion blackheads lying under the surface of skin. Phil’s eyes then traveled down to his lips, where he found Dan’s two silver snakebites.
“I am looking at you, Dan.”
Phil still kept his eyes locked on Dan’s lips and for the first time, he felt the need to kiss him.
“I don’t like you.” Dan repeated.
Phil thought for a moment.
“Then kiss me.” Phil attempted to impersonate Dan’s signature smirk, but it only came out as a shaky smile.
“Kiss me, Howell.”
Dan took a moment to take Phil in. They had never been this close. He could intensely smell Phil’s flowery perfume as he examined the yellow behind Phil’s blue eyes that he was unable to notice before.
Phil was about to repeat himself before Dan cut him off.
“Come on. Kiss-”
And that was it. Dan’s lips pressed hard against Phil’s gentle ones. Their lips moved in sync as Phil melted into Dan’s touch. He could feel Dan’s snakebites threatening to draw blood if they didn’t break away soon. That still wasn’t going to stop them.
Phil brought the tip of his tongue to Dan’s bottom lip. Dan gladly accepted and parted his lips so that the two could now lock tongues. Dan’s hands slipped onto Phil’s hips and pulled him in closer.
Phil’s sweater covered hands were placed on either side of Dan’s face. As they pulled away to breathe, Phil cuddled his face into the crook of Dan’s neck.
“I like you.” Phil’s words were muffled.
Dan chuckled, looking down at the boy in his arms. Phil sat up to stare at him.
“Yes, Philly?” Dan smiled
Phil punched Dan’s shoulder.
“Oi! What? Am I still not allowed to call you that?”
“Shut up, you twat!” Phil picked up a pillow and hit Dan with it.
The two began laughing as Dan and Phil had a miniature pillow fight.
“Prepare to die!” Phil impersonated a deep voice.
“Okay, okay! I surrender.” Dan yelled.
The laughing subsided and Phil’s attention was brought to something else.
“Wait, where’s my flower crown?” Phil said in a worried voice as he shuffled around the bed.
Seeing it fall before, Dan picked it up from the floor and turned back to Phil. Phil smiled when Dan slowly placed the crown down on Phil’s head.
Phil hummed in content. “Dan?”
“Do you, uh, do you like me?
“Um,” Dan still looked a bit anxious, but moment or two later he replied.
My new pillow collection ~ Black, White, Grey, Aqua, and Teal ~ in both 1:12th Scale and 1:6th Scale I spent all night and this morning in a pillow making/photographing marathon. I have to work at my other job all weekend, so I may not get them listed right away.