Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Requests are closed right now! If I get too many at once, I'll struggle to finish any of them.

I will do:
• Basically any ship that includes Paintbrush
• Poly ships
• Fluff
• Angst
• Hurt/comfort

I will not do:
• Smut
• Anything considered a pr0/c0mship
(if it doesn’t include a child, s3xu@l assault, or abuse, it’s fine)

—-

Please give me a story idea along with the ship. The more detailed, the more likely you are to get what you want- but it doesn’t have to be. If you have no ideas I can probably think of something, it just might not be quite what you wanted :)

Oh also if you have a preference for who’s POV the story is from, please let me know that too :D (I write in third person but I would focus on that person’s thoughts more)

Please also include if you want them to be humans or objects, if you don’t care then you don’t have to specify.

It might take me quite a while to finish writing 🏃♀️

Chapter Text

Ship: Testbrush (Test tube x Paintbrush)
No TW’s
Can be read as humanized or not I think?

——

It was New Year’s Eve, and OJ had been planning a big party since November. He at first planned on doing it all on his own. But after a long talk with paper, he had been convinced to instead split up the jobs between his (rather undependable) guests.

That meant a few of them were in charge of decorations, most were in charge of certain food items, and the cake making had gone to Paintbrush and Test tube.

Who had forgotten.

Until the day before New Years.

And when OJ asked Test tube if the cake was ready a few hours before 12:00, she mayyy have stretched the truth a bit…by..saying yes.

And so Paintbrush and Test tube were now scrambling to get their hands on a cake. And fast.

There were only two cake places within reasonable distance from Hotel OJ, and only one of them served the ring-shaped cake that had specifically been requested.

That was ok! They had a few hours. They could still order a cake and get it to the hotel in time, no problem!

And everyone else was too busy celebrating in the other room (and trying not to fall asleep), so they might be able to pull this off undetected!

That was what they were hoping, at least.

“Oh golly, Paintbrush..”

Paintbrush looked up at Test tube, leaning their body weight on the counter behind them. “What?”

Test tube frowned and tilted her phone screen towards Paintbrush, prompting them to look at it.

Paintbrush complied, stepping forward and squinting at the screen in Test tube’s hands.

It was displaying the official page for the cake place they had planned to go to, and had a brief description of the business. After that it listed a few of their signature cakes.

It didn’t seem like anything special. But as Paintbrush kept looking, they noticed that right by the status of the shop, it said ‘closed’ in bright red lettering.

“Oh.”

Damn it. That was…really not good.

Paintbrush felt a shock of frustration roll through them. Really?! Of course this had to happen. They felt so stupid. Duh the cake place was closed, it was New Year’s Eve for god’s sake. What had they been expecting??

Paintbrush groaned, running their hands down their face. What were they going to do now? They didn’t know how to make a cake. They didn’t even know if Hotel OJ had the right ingredients! Not to mention how quickly they were running out of time!

“Hey, it’s ok- we can uh, try to make it!” Test tube suggested, trying to calm Paintbrush down before they lit the hotel on fire.

“How?! Do you know how to make a cake??” Paintbrush exclaimed, beginning to pace back and forth across the kitchen. Test tube watched them nervously, shaking her head.
“No..I don’t.”

Paintbrush began pacing quicker, holding the side of their head in distress. Test tube’s frown deepened, and she began searching the kitchen for any boxed pre-made cake batter that might have been bought on a whim that they might be able to use.

The first cabinet had a pan, which was lucky, and she pulled it out and set it on the counter.

But they still needed ingredients.

Test tube opened every other cabinet she could see, scanning it for anything of the sort, and found nothing. Most of the cabinets were empty, many of the ingredients for New Years having been used already.

She sighed, standing up after checking one of the lower cabinets and finding nothing but a few cobwebs. Paintbrush was still pacing, and Test tube could practically see their bristles (hair?) steaming.

This was bad.

But then she spotted one final cabinet, one she hadn’t noticed before. She quickly opened it and was met with..lots of ingredients. Sugar, flour, baking powder… Stuff they definitely needed for a cake.

Test tube reached behind herself and grabbed Paintbrush’s hand, halting their frantic pacing. They stopped abruptly and stared at Test tube, face flushing at the sudden contact.

Test tube quickly let go of their hand, her own face tinted pink. “Sorry,” she mumbled quickly, before gesturing towards the cabinet full of stuff she had just opened. “But look what I found.”

Paintbrush rubbed the hand Test tube had held, suddenly seeming a lot less panicked, now simply dazed. Their gaze followed Test tube’s hand, landing on the contents of the cabinet.

“Oh thank god. I still don’t know how to make a cake though.”

“Well, that’s what Google is for, isn’t it?”

Test tube reopened her phone and began looking up a good cake recipe.

It didn’t take long, just a simple google search and a couple of scrolls downwards and she found something adequate.

“Let’s do this one,” she suggested, bending down to pull the ingredients out of the cabinet. She wondered briefly why Hotel OJ just randomly had one cabinet full of cake ingredients, but she brushed it off, deciding it didn’t matter as long as they could make the cake.

Paintbrush helped grab the rest of the ingredients, setting them on the counter beside all of Test tube’s. Test tube set her phone down in between them, so they could both see the instructions.

“Alright, maybe we can still do this, what’s first?” Paintbrush asked, placing their elbows on the table and leaning over to look at the phone.

Test tube squinted down at it as well, but was unable to process what she was looking at before Paintbrush answered their own question:
“One cup shortening, what’s that?”

Test tube looked over the wide variety of ingredients on the counter in front of her, scanning for the word ‘shortening’.

She found it rather quickly, and grabbed the bag to pull it closer. “This, probably.”

Paintbrush hummed, once again squinting at the phone in front of them. But this time Test tube processed the information first.

“Wait, shouldn’t we preheat the oven?” She pointed to the text right above the ingredients that showed instructions for preparation.

Sure enough, they did have to preheat the oven.

“Oh, yeah. Oops.” Paintbrush walked over to the electric oven and got ready to press the ‘up’ arrow. “What does it need to be preheated to?”

“350 degrees.”
“Alright.”

While Paintbrush was preheating the oven, each press of the button creating a resounding ‘beep’, Test tube grabbed the pan she had found earlier. Apparently she had to ‘grease and flour’ it.

Unsure of what exactly that meant, she mostly guessed as she splattered olive oil and flour over the pan. Deciding that was probably (hopefully) decent, she brushed the flour off her hands.

Paintbrush had finished preheating the oven, and they had returned to start reading the instructions:

“Alright, now we cream the shortening and sugar for five minutes, and then add eggs one at a time, and then vanilla, and then add the baking soda and powder, and flour…what?”

Paintbrush squinted down at the screen, eyebrows furrowed, clearly very confused.

Test tube sighed. There were a lot of instructions.

“Ok, slow down. Let’s take this one instruction at a time.”

Paintbrush nodded in response, and moved over to let Test tube take over with the reading, which she did without complaint.
“So..we need to ‘cream’ the sugar and shortening. I assume that means mix them until they look creamy..?”

Ignoring how weird that sounded, Paintbrush grabbed the bags of sugar and shortening and pulled them closer, before looking around and seeing no bowls.

“Uh, Test tube, what do I put it in?”

“Just a moment..” Despite her earlier suggestion that they take things one at a time, Test tube was still reading the instructions. Paintbrush grew a tiny bit irritated at this, their anxiety about running out of time crawling up their back.
“Test tube!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Test tube apologized quickly, moving away from the phone to reach downwards to the cabinets once again.

“I was seeing what else we had to do. We also need to add eggs.”

Paintbrush reacted to this information by rapidly opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs, nearly dropping them in their haste.

“Be careful! Don’t break them!” Test tube scolded, though she did so without any real malice in her voice.

Paintbrush didn’t respond right away, but they looked guilty as they complied, being more careful when setting down the carton of eggs.

“Thanks,” Test tube mumbled, opening the carton and finding that the eggs were still unharmed.

There was a moment of silence while Test tube shuffled around in the cabinet for what felt like the millionth time.

“Sorry, Test tube it’s just,” Paintbrush anxiously glanced at the oven clock, simultaneously running a hand through their hair (or bristles). “We only have like, two hours now.”

Paintbrush was right. They had to hurry.

Test tube looked up at them and offered what she hoped was a comforting smile, trying not to show her personal panic.

“How about this, you put the sugar and cream in here…” She huffed, standing up and setting a rather heavy yellow bowl on the counter, “And I can add in the eggs.”

“Sounds good to me.” Paintbrush agreed.

They glanced back at the phone as the sounds of Test tube searching for something resumed once again.

“Oh man, we have to make a drizzle too??” They groaned, having read ahead in the instructions while Test tube was grabbing measuring cups.

Test tube laughed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

—-

The duo was silent while Test tube added in the eggs and Paintbrush stirred after each one, both of them so focused on not messing up that it was almost laughable.

The silence was nice. They could faintly hear the rest of Hotel OJ a few rooms away, loudly celebrating, but for the most part the atmosphere was quiet.

Paintbrush had clearly calmed down a ton since their initial panic, and it served to make Test tube feel more comfortable.

It was actually starting to be rather enjoyable, baking together like this.

Before they knew it, half of the batter-making job was done. Now they only needed to combine it with baking powder, baking soda, and flour.

Test tube added in the baking powder and soda in without issue, but while adding in flour she forgot how many cups were needed.

“Oh, golly, I don’t think I added the right amount.” She admitted, feeling rather clueless. She even dropped a bit of flour on the floor, and it had magically ended up all over the counter too. Why was she so bad at this?

“Pfft, at least you actually know what flour is,”

Test tube snorted at the sudden comment. She forgot her failure for a second and looked inquisitively over at Paintbrush, “What do you mean?”

“I mean unlike Balloon. Remember that one challenge with the mile high pie?”

Oh.

Test tube nodded, her face falling into a slight frown. She remembered alright. Well, at least she remembered the elimination afterwards. And what she had done to Cabby.

Paintbrush glanced over at her, quickly realizing their mistake as they remembered what else happened that episode.

“Oh, sorry Test tube- I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

What on earth, that was like, their third apology since they had begun baking. They just couldn’t seem to stop messing up. They really needed to start thinking more before they acted, they inwardly decided.

They stepped closer to Test tube, and set a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

Test tube had to admit it was touching, especially coming from Paintbrush. And it definitely worked.

“That’s ok, don’t worry about it. It was a while ago.”
She shrugged, refocusing on the task at hand.

Paintbrush gave Test tube a small smile, which she returned almost immediately. Then Paintbrush removed their hand from her shoulder, instead using it to pull the bowl away from Test tube and start mixing in the new additions.

Who knew baking could include so many mixed emotions?

—-

Paintbrush and Test tube were soon able to pour their cake concoction into the pan they had prepared seemingly ages ago.

They carefully slid it into the oven, both feeling a strong sense of achievement as they closed the door, leaving their creation to its own devices.

But Paintbrush still felt like they were missing something…

Oh!

“Crap, the drizzle!”

Test tube quickly quelled their panic, “Don’t worry, this part should go pretty quick.”

It did.

In only a few minutes, Test tube and Paintbrush had finished making the drizzle and their cake was in the oven.

Thank god.

Now all that was left was to clean up the..absolute mess that had become the kitchen.

Paintbrush grabbed a few rags from under the sink and ran them under lukewarm water, passing one of them to Test tube. This caused water to splatter everywhere, eliciting a shocked laugh from Test tube and a grimace from Paintbrush.

But the problem was quickly resolved with both of them working together to wipe the counters, sweep the floor, and begin soaking a batter filled dish in the sink. They could worry about dishes later.

—-

Just as the pair was almost finished cleaning the area, the oven beeped, indicating that the cake was done.
Test tube rushed over to it, quickly pressing stop on the timer in hopes they wouldn’t alert the others.

Test tube grabbed some oven mitts from nearby and carefully removed the cake, setting it on the stovetop, and immediately taking off the oven mitts once done.

Paintbrush checked the time. They had about half an hour before the cake needed to be done.

This was good. They could do this.

Only one final step.

The icing.

Too impatient to wait for the cake to cool, Paintbrush drizzled it on right away.

..Which resulted in the icing melting into the cake.

Test tube and Paintbrush were too tired to worry about it though.

It would still taste good, wouldn’t it?

Paintbrush and Test tube stared at their cake for a moment, analyzing what their work had come out to be, both surprisingly drained from all the baking.

They were happy though. They felt accomplished, and baking with one another had proven to be pretty entertaining.

Paintbrush noticed the time on the clock. About 20 minutes before midnight. Success!

“We did it!” Paintbrush exclaimed, pumping their fist in a small sign of victory.

The cake wasn’t perfect. Far from it. It definitely looked very beginner, burnt a bit on the sides and the icing drizzled haphazardly along the ring and slowly soaking into the cake due to being added too early.
But Paintbrush was right, they had done it.

—-

The duo spent the next ten minutes sitting in a comfortable silence beside the oven, which Test tube had turned off. She also ended up moving closer to Paintbrush within that time, and was practically leaning on their shoulder now.

She let out a yawn. Paintbrush smiled down at her, looking about as tired as Test tube felt. They wrapped a hand around Test tube’s shoulder, pulling her close so that she was fully leaning on them.

Test tube appreciated the action more than she would care to admit.

She felt her eyelids getting heavy as she continued to stand there. They began to drift closed, and she kept having to force them open again. She couldn’t help herself! She was so comfortable. And at this rate she was going to pass out.

She was startled awake though, by a yell from the kitchen door,

“Painty, Testy! You’re gonna miss the ball drop!”

She practically jumped at the voice, pushing away from the warmth of Paintbrush’s embrace.

Paintbrush and her both whipped around to look at the sudden new arrival.

It was Lightbulb, because of course it was. She was standing in the doorway, a look of shock on her face as she stared back at Test tube and Paintbrush.

But her look quickly faded into a ‘knowing’ look, causing her friends to panic a little.

“Uh, Lightbulb- we were just—“

“Oh don’t worry, Painty. I gettt it.” Lightbulb mused, her smug smile growing as she slowly backed out of the kitchen.

Test tube and Paintbrush watched her leave in silence, a suddenly much more awkward one, and a stark contrast to the comfortable silence they had shared only moments before.

They decided to pretend that hadn’t happened.

Instead, they turned around to refocus on their cake.

Test tube risked a touch at the cake, checking for temperature. Thankfully, the half hour had been enough for it not to burn her skin off, so that was a plus.

She still put the oven mitts back on though.

——

Paintbrush and Test tube found themselves sitting on a couch in the middle of the living room, along with practically every other member of Hotel OJ, who were being exceptionally loud. The screen displayed the ball drop in New York City, although neither were very interested.

They were much more focused on each other.

They smiled at one another, and Paintbrush moved closer to slowly intertwine their fingers.

Test tube‘s heart skipped a beat at the action, and she quickly broke eye contact to stare at the TV screen, a goofy smile on her face.

“Do you wanna try some of the cake?” Paintbrush yelled over all the noise, giving Test tube’s hand a small squeeze.

Test tube thought about it for a second, eyeing up their mediocre product with suspicion.

Maybe it…wasn’t as bad as it looked?

Not in the mood to yell over other people, she looked back at Paintbrush and nodded.

Paintbrush smiled and let go of Test tube’s hand, standing up in order to cut the cake. Test tube frowned at the loss of contact, trying to mask her disappointment by looking off to the side.

Normally the volume of the room would overwhelm her, but as she sat there waiting, the shouts and hollers of everyone around her drowned away, beginning to sound like simple white noise. And no one was paying attention to her or Paintbrush. It was comforting, in a way.

She hadn’t realized how long she had been staring at the pillow beside her until the corner of a paper plate poked at her stomach. She looked up to see Paintbrush smiling down at her, a plate with a piece of cake in each of their hands.

Test tube slowly took the plate she was being offered, staring down at the creation that Paintbrush and her had worked so hard on.

The couch shifted underneath her as Paintbrush sat back down, once again by Test tube’s side. They seemed eager to try the cake, only pausing for a moment before taking a bite.

Test tube watched them out of the corner of her eye, suddenly feeling oddly self-conscious, as if she were presenting a baked item to her crush. Or something.

She didn’t dwell on the feeling, too distracted by the warmth that flooded her when Paintbrush turned to her with a big smile on their face.

“It’s pretty good!” They exclaimed, barely audible among all the background hoots and hollers.

Test tube smiled back at them. She couldn’t help it, their smile was contagious. She tentatively picked up a bite of cake with her fork, and slowly put it in her mouth.

Paintbrush was still staring at her, which made her feel self-conscious, so she held a hand up by her face in order to cover her mouth while she chewed.

It wasn’t a great cake, if Test tube was being honest. There were probably a few too many mistakes during the baking process.

But it wasn’t bad, especially not for really the only cake Test tube had made in…ever.

She set her fork down and her plate in the meager empty space on the table in front of them, and gave Paintbrush another smile of her own.

She felt accomplished, and like she had spent some valuable time with her best friend.

——-

What felt like virtually no time later, the big moment finally happened. The ball on the screen finally dropped, and it felt as if the whole room exploded into excitement. Test Tube was a bit caught off guard by just how loud everyone got.

The scientist honestly didn’t really understand the appeal. Was this really that big of a moment? It wasn’t as if it mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Or at least, that was her initial impression, before she suddenly felt lips brush against her cheek.

She froze, her face heating up. What? She knew people sometimes kissed at midnight on New Years, but she never expected it to ever happen to her. And even though it hadn’t been on the lips, she was still very stunned by this new development.

The small kiss had been so faint she began to wonder if she had perhaps been imagining things, but when she glanced to her side to see Paintbrush nervously fidgeting next to her, it became obvious that she hadn’t.

A thought immediately came to mind, and before she could find a reason to suppress her impulse, she quickly leaned over and left a kiss on their cheek in return.

She could see Paintbrush’s face get a bit red as they smiled widely into their hand. Test Tube found herself smiling similarly, her chest feeling warm all of a sudden.

The pair sat back on the couch, watching as everyone else started stumbling off to bed. And if OJ spotted them early the next morning passed out on top of one another, he didn’t bring it up.

Chapter Text

Ship: Paintyang (Paintbrush x Yang)
No TW’s

—————-

Yang couldn’t believe this.

Candle had just…*abandoned* them.

Sure maybe the others in their team didn’t need her anymore, and even Yin seemed to be capable on his own, but what about Yang?!

Candle was the only person Yang had ever felt like he could communicate with. The only person who seemed to truly see him AND Yin, as who they truly were, and as two separate people.

And she had just *left.*

Had none of the time she spent with them meant anything to her?? Had she only been helping them ‘connect with each other’ for her own personal interests? Had any of it even been real?

If it had been, then why would she just leave them behind like this? Just walk away, as if they didn’t matter to her in the slightest. All because Yin handled one challenge on his own and Yang was learning to be kinder?

All because she ‘felt unneeded?’ Yang had *never* felt needed. Given, he didn’t really care about that since he prided himself in being the opposite, but *still!*
She could have at least tried to talk to Yin-Yang or even anybody else for that matter! But she hadn’t. And now Yin-Yang was all alone. Again.

It was pathetic. Candle was pathetic. Pathetic to leave Yin-Yang like this. Pathetic to not even explain why.

To not even give them any closure.

Everything Candle taught them had been fake, a stupid LIE, mindless optimism. Stupid. STUPID. POINTLESS. LIES.

Yang needed to destroy something.

As if the universe was reading his mind, he looked to the side to see there was a pile of rocks sitting on the grass.

He approached them, hands itching to obliterate something. He didn’t care who might stumble across him, or hear what he was doing. He was blinded by his anger.

He imagined the rocks he was breaking were Candle, as he slammed them together with enough force to shatter them into millions of tiny pieces.

At first, it felt amazing to channel his anger into the physical damage he was causing- but hitting the rocks would send a spark of pain through him, which in turn, curse emotional functions, making him even angrier.

But all Yang knew was that he was angry beyond recognition. It didn’t matter why anymore. He just wanted everything to crash and die.

When he ran out of rocks to decimate, he viciously tore at the grass around him, pulling it out in clumps and reducing the ground beneath him to dirt.

Yin was trying to regain some control, Yang could tell, but he wasn’t about to let that happen. He was done having his anger be ignored and buried within him just because Yin felt the need to be a stupid pacifist.

He hated all of this. He hated EVERYTHING.

He just wanted it all to break and DIE. He was so unfathomably FURIOUS.

He tugged at the grass, at this point practically digging into the ground. He ignored the pain it brought to his hands. DESTROY IT ALL. MORE. MAKE IT ALL SUFFER AND DIE.

“What the— Yin-Yang?!”

The voice halted Yang in his frantic demolition of Mephone’s island, and he froze where he sat, a sense of exhaustion and pain spreading through him.

He was disoriented by the sudden backlash of what he had done. So much so, that he could barely comprehend the voice he was hearing.

God, Yang’s fists hurt. He was slowly regaining full consciousness while he stared unblinkingly down at what had become of the ground and the rocks nearby. He was breathing heavily, his body having worked hard during his blind fury.

“Or..is it just Yang?”

It was Paintbrush.

Yang slowly turned to look up at them.

Paintbrush stared back at him, looking angry, obviously but also very…concerned? That’s what it seemed like to Yang, but he wasn’t used to being looked at like that, so he couldn’t be sure.

When Yang made eye contact with Paintbrush, they avoided it, eyes much more focused on the ground behind Yang. Or rather, what had become of it.

They were probably worried he would continue. Yang almost wanted to, his hands still itched to destroy, but he suddenly felt far too exhausted. His anger had abruptly shifted to embarrassment. Almost like he was ashamed to have been caught. He was also scared. That wasn’t a feeling Yang was used to.

He didn’t make a move to keep ripping up the grass, instead collapsing onto the ground as if his legs had given out. The grass was soft underneath him, and he tried to focus more on it than the pile of dirt and broken rocks he had generated.

There was a moment of silence, the only sound being Yang still trying to catch his breath.

Paintbrush was the first to speak.

“Is it Candle?”

Yang nearly choked on his spit. *What?!*
How did they—

“Y’know, I just thought since…her whole new alliance thing. And…you two used to be close.”

The fact that Painty had paid attention to all of that struck Yang in a way he wasn’t comfortable with.

His eyes darkened into a glare as he stared at the taller object, suddenly feeling defensive.
“NO. It’s *nothing!!*” He yelled.

He hoped Paintbrush would just leave him to wallow all on his own (and with Yin, but not by choice). He wasn’t used to being interrogated about his emotions, and he didn’t like the new sensation one bit.

But Paintbrush didn’t seem ready to let it go. They raised an eyebrow and frowned at Yang, clearly unconvinced.

“You sure about that?” They asked rhetorically, glancing in between Yang and the mess that had become the ground beside him.

Yang didn’t respond. How could he? He *wasn’t* sure, but he really didn’t feel like explaining why. He didn’t even have the energy to understand how he was feeling inside his head, how was he supposed to communicate it out loud to someone else?!

Yang could sense movement in his peripheral vision, and he glanced over to see Paintbrush sitting down on the grass, far enough away from Yang that it hopefully wouldn’t anger him more. It must not have, because he didn’t say anything about it, turning away to stare straight ahead of him.

Paintbrush didn’t push any further. They simply sat there, knees pulled to their chest, one hand fidgeting with their bristles as the silence between the two objects stretched on.

To say it was a comfortable silence would be a lie.

But it wasn’t overwhelming. It was at least manageable.

Yang didn’t like silence. At all. So ‘manageable’ was fairly high praise given the circumstances.

……

Never mind, the silence was becoming deafening.

Yang needed to say something.

“Yeah, it’s Candle.”

Oh, well that hadn’t been the plan. Shit.

Yang’s mind itched to run away from Paintbrush so that he could pretend this interaction had never happened and bottle up how he felt until he inevitably spilled over in the form of violence. That was what Yang had been doing up until this point, and Paintbrush got angry pretty fast, so maybe..they were doing it too?

The thought made Yang subconsciously widen his eyes. He hadn’t thought about that before. Why else would Paintbrush get so angry like they did? Was it possible that they used the same unhealthy tactic as Yang did?

He wasn’t sure how to feel about those questions. So he ignored them for now, deciding he could dwell over them later, most likely with Yin’s unwanted feedback.

Yang looked back at Paintbrush, who had turned their body to face Yang and was clearly trying to keep their face neutral. It seemed like a struggle if the way they were cringing slightly told Yang anything. They weren’t great at hiding it, but Yang could still appreciate the sentiment.

“Um, ok..what..about her?” Paintbrush asked softly. They sort of already knew why Yang would be upset over Candle, but they weren’t sure what else they could say.

Yang’s breath hitched as he looked away again. That was a loaded question.

Yang didn’t like feeling vulnerable. He thought it opened up too many chances for getting hurt. Plus, Yin was supposed to be the weak, pathetic one- not Yang.

And even if Yang *wanted* to vent, it wasn’t like anyone cared. Everyone saw him as nothing but Yin’s ‘evil counterpart’. And that was his fault, he knew that. He had made that reputation of his own accord.

Yet, looking at Paintbrush giving him their full attention like they were, it felt nice. Strange, and scary. But still somehow nice. And they didn’t seem ready to leave, or like they only wanted to lecture him. Maybe…Yang could try being vulnerable, just this once.

It was a reckless decision, really. One that Yang would find idiotic if he thought about it for too long. But he wondered how to gather his emotions into something relatively coherent anyways, trying his best to ignore the feeling of eyes watching him.

“I..guess it’s just,” he glanced over at Paintbrush nervously. But they simply nodded, a sign for Yang to continue. That was all he needed.

“Ugh, it’s so *ANNOYING!* It’s like- I APPRECIATE all she’s tried to do for us and all but...I’m WORRIED it wasn’t even REAL. Because if it was!! Then why would she have just left after ONE thing didn’t go her way?! It’s like she just- ABANDONED us!!”

He took a shaky breath, and if Paintbrush’s vision was working, it looked as if he may even have tears in his eyes.

“It’s just— she was the only person who understood us, and she just—“

His voice came out shaky, and he quickly slammed a hand over his mouth, a deep pit of regret settling in his stomach. He shouldn’t have said anything. This entire interaction had been a mistake. He didn’t even glance at Paintbrush, far too embarrassed and distraught.

He quickly scrambled to his feet to try and run off, but a swift movement out of the corner of his eye and a hand on his shoulder halted him. He refused to look at Paintbrush, his breathing picking up. He was going to have a panic attack or something at this rate.

Paintbrush was…perplexed, to say the least. For the longest time, Yang had felt like an unapproachable being. Someone Paintbrush only knew on a very surface level, and couldn’t *stand.* The only basis of their relationship up until that point had been being on the same team, an unstable one at that. They had never seen Yang acting like this. This scenario had never even crossed their mind as a *possibility.*

..So what on earth could they say?

They had no idea. This wasn’t exactly their forte, especially since they struggled with their own anger. But seeing Yang so distraught hurt Paintbrush’s heart. They just wanted to help him feel better. And so, they said the first thing that came to their mind.

“I get it..”

Yang finally looked at them, his face difficult to read. “What?”

Paintbrush sighed. It was their turn now to be embarrassed. They looked away, fidgeting with their bristles. They seemed to do that a lot. “Yeah.” That was all they said, clearly not wishing to elaborate as they looked like they remembered some unpleasant experiences.

Even though they weren’t explaining further, Yang found that he believed them. He believed that they had experienced something similar, and he trusted their word.

He could feel himself getting the slightest bit more comfortable with Paintbrush’s hand on his shoulder. A large part of him knew he probably shouldn’t be, especially after being left behind by the former person he and Yin trusted. Still, though, he didn’t feel like destroying the world and everything in it anymore.

He didn’t want to think about why. At least not yet.

Another silence fell over the pair. God, they were so awkward. Neither of them were sure how to handle this situation, Paintbrush struggling to try and be helpful and Yang being unused to someone wishing to help him.

Paintbrush had never expected to be in this kind of situation with Yang of all people. In the beginning, the boy was very agressive and..*loud*, and those weren’t exactly character traits Paintbrush appreciated.

..But something about the way Yang had talked to them, with such rare vulnerability...

It made Paintbrush feel..special. Important. Like they had been trusted with something no one else was, and from someone like Yang, who had seemed indestructible…

Maybe Yang was more than what Paintbrush had given him credit for.

“If you, um, ever want to talk about stuff like this again…” they mumbled, embarrassed but pushing through it for the sake of being helpful. “Then.. you can always talk to me.” They hoped they sounded more confident than they felt.

Yang blinked up at them, his eyes widening slightly. Paintbrush wondered if anyone had ever offered such a thing to the black-and-white object. And they concluded: no, probably not. Which made them feel almost guilty.

They should have been trying to connect with Yang earlier on, instead of waiting until he was driving himself crazy over it to say anything. But Paintbrush was bringing it up now. It was a good start, at least.

Yang wasn’t offended. He was excited to finally feel like he was heard. Even if it hadn’t happened in so long (practically since he and Yin were born) that he had stopped expecting it.

Part of him felt as if he didn’t even deserve it. That he didn’t deserve to be listened to or helped with how he was feeling.

But Paintbrush was right here, listening anyway, whether it was deserved or not. And that fact warmed Yang in an unfamiliar way.

“….Ok.”

Chapter Text

Ship: Trophbrush (Trophy x Paintbrush)

-

The sun was out, the sky cloudless, the trees reflecting the most precise lighting… It was the perfect day for taking photos outside, and maybe going on a jog around the island… 

But Trophy couldn’t even dare to think about getting up so early, because he was securely caged in by a pair of arms around his torso. He knew he was strong enough to get out of bed anyways, of course, but did he want to? …No, he decided. No, he didn't. So he let his thoughts of early-morning photography and the adrenaline of exercise die, instead adjusting himself in Paintbrush’s arms to face his partner.

Maybe he could still get a nice photo. I mean, hey, just look at them. Trophy wasn’t really one for lovey-dovey stuff about how attractive people were, or at least, not out loud, but when it came to Paintbrush, he just didn’t know how else to describe how he felt.

They were beautiful.  

They had their eyes shut, their face relaxed where they lay against the pillow. Their pale blonde hair was a mess, strands poking up everywhere in a sort of restfulness that was nothing short of attractive. Their lips were slightly parted as if lulling Trophy in, and the warmth between them was better than any sunny day. How could he not be emotional when he laid eyes on such a lovely person?

Trophy wrapped his arms around their back, allowing himself to move closer to lean his neck down and press his face into their hair. It was as soft as always, and it smelled nice, like their shampoo.

He impulsively kissed the top of their head before pulling away again and looking down at them. This was one of the few times he could see them from this angle since normally they were a bit taller than him (something he would never stop complaining about).

He took note of the paint stains in the collar of their shirt, and the dark circles under their eyes that never seemed to go away. It was the kind of thing Trophy was prone to ridiculing, and yet, all Trophy could see were more reasons to love his partner. As he lay there, listening to the natural buzz of the room and watching Paintbrush’s chest rise and fall, he decided he absolutely did need a picture.

And so he very carefully turned back around, trying not to wake his sleeping beauty as he reached a muscled arm toward his camera. It was sitting in its usual place on his bedside table, but it was just slightly out of reach. Grumbling to himself, he leaned further out of Paintbrush’s arms and was able to get his fingers to the very edge of the camera, using that leverage to pull it closer. 

He thought this amount of movement had to of woken Paintbrush up, especially since they were a light sleeper, but when he retreated back into the warmth of the bed, their breathing was still just as slow and rhythmic. Trophy wasn’t exactly known for being small, so getting back into his earlier position without being overly annoying proved to be difficult, but it was worth it when he finally managed to face Paintbrush again, camera at his side.      

After a few moments of silently admiring them, the jock slowly raised his camera up in front of his face. He adjusted the camera to get in some good composition, and once he was satisfied, he clicked a quick picture.

He hoped it was good enough to bring Paintbrush to justice, or something poetic like that. Man, he didn’t remember ever being this sappy. This whole ‘being in love’ thing was really starting to get to him, huh?

Whatever, not that it mattered anymore. He was too deep in now. He watched as his camera pushed out the picture, <em>loudly</em>, and pulled it up to his chest so he could look back at Paintbrush’s face. He held his breath as he prayed his loud ass camera wouldn’t wake them, only breathing again when he saw that his picture was done. 

He tugged it out and set his camera down near the pair’s legs, pulling the picture up in front of his face to see it. As expected, it showed the upper body of Paintbrush laying there, half hidden by the comforter and sleeping peacefully. Rather pleased with the outcome, Trophy hummed and set it down beside his camera, which was met with a small snort.

Surprised by the sudden noise, he whipped up to look at his lover and met their now very open eyes as they snickered at him, an amused smirk on their face. He immediately grew embarrassed, his face flushing as he jumped to defend himself. “Wh-what’s so funny, huh?” He tried to sound angry, but it ended up just sounding ashamed. 

Paintbrush only laughed harder, which made Trophy glare at them. Their smile remained as they furrowed their eyebrows and moved closer to make up for Trophy’s backing away. “Did you just take a picture of me?” 

Trophy looked away, his face only growing warmer. “Nope! I would never- I mean that would just be- pfft- how stupid of you- um..” He stumbled over his words like he rarely ever did, and it made him want to crawl into a hole and die. Instead, he grabbed the picture and nearly crumpled it, before he was halted by a familiar hand against his. Paintbrush pried the picture out of his hand, much to his dismay. He looked back at them with obvious anxiety on his face. 

“Don’t worry, you dork, I think it’s cute.” They looked down at the picture, rolling onto their back and pushing Trophy away when he went to grab it. Trophy was about to argue with Paintbrush’s calling him a ‘dork’ and ‘cute’, but he paused in his tracks when he heard their next comment,

“Ew, is that really what I look like?”  

His eyebrows furrowed instantly. “The fuck do you mean by that?” Trophy wasn’t a stranger to Paintbrush’s use of self-depricating humor, but it didn’t mean he disliked it any less. I mean, just hearing Paintbrush insult themselves when they were the prettiest person he had ever seen was a punch in the gut. “Yeah, that’s what you look like. That an issue?” 

Paintbrush glanced over at Trophy and saw the anger on his face, and they instantly felt nervous. They laughed awkwardly, handing Trophy back the picture to try and ease the sudden tension. “Well…I mean..I just look kind of disheveled..” They reached a hand up to brush some of the hair out of their face. “And a little ..gross.”

Trophy took the picture and looked at it for a moment before setting it down and meeting Paintbrush’s eyes. He wanted to let Paintbrush know how beautiful they were, but he was struggling to come up with a way to. After all, he had never been good at showing people affection. He usually just ended up yelling at them instead, and it was beyond difficult for him to try and soften that edge.

But this was too important for him to be stubborn.

“Paintbrush.” Trophy’s voice was gruff and demanded attention as he gently cupped his lover’s face in his hands and leaned close to them. His face wasn’t mean. In fact, it was almost endearing with the way his cheek was pressed up against the pillow, but Paintbrush was distracted by the determination in his eyes.

“I don’t give a shit what you think you look like, I only take pictures of things that are worth being on my goddamn camera (yes, that picture of Knife that one time was completely worth it), so you’d better shut up right now before I beat you up for being shitty to my partner.”

..Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the best at being supportive, but he knew Paintbrush would understand what he meant.

And it seemed like they did,  gawking at him as he finished speaking, their eyes wide and disbelieving. A heavy silence fell over the pair for a few minutes…before Paintbrush’s eyes filled with tears. Trophy stiffened upon seeing this and brought up a thumb to brush them away, making Paintbrush feel like crying even more. “Fuck. Was I too harsh?”

Paintbrush sniffed, feeling like their chest was on fire as they squirmed forward to pull Trophy into a tight hug, appreciating the warmth and mass of his body as he hesitated before returning the embrace. “Uh….Paintbrush?”

Paintbrush laughed wetly, pulling away just far enough to wipe the tears out of their eyes. “God, I love you so much. You know that?” Trophy blinked at them, caught off guard by the sheer appreciation in their voice. 

“...What?”

They placed a hand on Trophy’s cheek at the same time as Trophy slowly moved his hands away from their face. They laid their head back down, seeming more peaceful than they had a few moments ago. Contrasting the loving action, they rolled their eyes at him, a smile playing on their lips. “I love you.”

Trophy’s heart rate slowed as he realized Paintbrush wasn’t upset, and he found himself subconsciously mirroring their smile as he too pressed his head further into the pillow. He decided he had gotten his point across since they weren’t trying to refute his logic, so he laid an arm over their waist and shifted closer still. Their bodies were once again tangled together, the bed warm with sleep beneath them while Trophy said something he didn’t say often, voice low.

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Paper stared at the pillow he was clutching to his chest. He could barely see it through his tears, which were practically blinding him. It was soft and room temperature, and really the only option Paper had for comfort in this hotel. ..Well, at least without his partner here. He wasn’t sure where they were right now, maybe somewhere outside with Lightbulb.

He couldn’t determine what exactly had sent him into this emotional state, but what he did know was that he felt terrified, and the feeling was clawing at his inner walls with a viciousness that caused a sharp pain in his chest and side.

In the back of his mind, he knew exactly why he was feeling this way. It was Leaf, the alter that shared his brain and body, who had made a few infamous appearances before. Leaf was the same person who had hurt and maimed people, who had made Paper seem like a complete monster to those who didn’t understand that they were two separate beings. Leaf hadn’t made another appearance for quite a long time now. In fact, he had gone dormant. Paper was at least glad for that, but there was an insistent nagging inside that had been torturing him for the past few weeks.

And it had finally manifested into a full-blown panic attack, right here in the hotel lobby. The issue was, Leaf’s dormancy was far from permanent. He would be back, and Paper knew he would try to take control and ruin the small pocket of safety he had built for himself here. The thought was petrifying, and the mere notion of Leaf hurting anyone around them, especially Paintbrush, caused Paper’s chest to clench up and his breath to catch in his throat.

Leaf could come back at any point in time, and there was nothing Paper would be able to do about it. He would terrorize Paper and the people he cared about, and no one would be prepared for it. They wouldn’t understand. They would blame him and despise him for it. They would-

Breathing wasn’t working correctly as Paper’s racing thoughts added more fuel to the flames. He buried his face in the pillow and tried to take deep breaths like he’d been taught, but his efforts were useless against the pure terror that was rolling through him. He faintly registered that he was audibly sobbing, rocking back and forth on the couch as he resisted to urge to pound on his own legs just to shock himself back into rationality.

It was hard to piece together a single tangible thought among the ‘what if’s and other intrusive thoughts, Paper just knew that he was terrified.

“Paper?”

The voice was gentle, caring, and familiar. It broke through the dark haze that was Paper’s current state of mind and he blinked away a few of the tears clouding his eyesight. He felt someone looming over him, their presence calming. He picked up on a familiar perfume, and honed in on the smell until he could fully process that Paintbrush was standing in front of him, their face laced with concern.

"P-Paintbrush..?" Paper spoke, his breath hitching in his chest with the panic attack that was still nagging at his soul. The small smile on Paintbrush's face made him feel warm, even though the claws ripping at his heart were freezing cold.

"Hey. Can I sit next to you?" They asked, voice careful as they maintained a calm demeanor, their efforts already helping Paper a bit.

Paper nodded, subconsciously licking a tear off of his lip, the salty taste strangely grounding. He felt the couch sink as his partner sat down beside him, their body warm and their presence familiar.

Before Paintbrush could ask whether or not they could touch Paper, the fearful boy clung onto them, hugging them tightly. Sobs began to wrack his body once again as his intrusive thoughts reminded him of the dangers that lay within the walls of his brain.

Paintbrush only hesitated for a moment before returning Paper’s embrace, holding him tightly in their arms. Paper buried his face in their neck, taking in the feeling of Paintbrush’s hand rubbing circles on his back. Even though being in his partner’s arm felt loads safer, the storm burning inside of him wasn’t easily quelled, and the thoughts in his head only for worse.

Paintbrush cared about him now, but what would they think when Leaf wasn’t dormant anymore? Surely they would be disgusted and annoyed, and what if Paper didn’t have control? What if Leaf did something bad? What if he hurt them?

“Shhh..Paper, breath. In and out. Tell me what’s wrong.” Paintbrush spoke carefully, placing a kiss on their trembling boyfriend’s head.

Paper couldn’t. He really couldn’t. His throat felt like a desert and his mucus was thickening and covering up his throat, making it even harder to breathe. Words escaped him, and he didn’t know how to explain himself. He couldn’t.

But for Paintbrush, he would try.

“It’s…I..I can’t- I don’t-“ His voice was lost amongst sobs and desperate gasps for air. So much for explaining himself.

Paintbrush recognized Paper’s panic, and they cupped his face and pulled away just enough to look him in the eye, gaze concerned. “Paper, I need you to tell me three things you can see. Can you do that for me?” Paintbrush didn’t know how well the technique would work, but it was something they had used for themselves many times, and they decided it couldn’t hurt to try. They would do anything if it meant making Paper feel better.

Paper blinked, eyes still blurry with tears. He held tightly onto Paintbrush’s shoulders and tried to listen to their request, trying to sort through the scrambling in his mind to register what was going on around him. His breathe was still running away from him, but he managed to catch enough of it to speak, albeit shakily. “Um..I see..you.” He felt rather pathetic, and the self-deprecating thought threatened to pull him under again, but he pressed on to make Paintbrush happy.

“Good..what else?”

Paper looked down, his death grip on Paintbrush’s shoulders loosening a bit. “The..couch.” His eyes flitted to the floor as his body slowly but surely reconnected with his mind. “And the rug..”

Paintbrush smiled gently down at their boyfriend, continuing to gently rub circles into his back. They leaned closer, adjusting the pair slightly. They reached a hand out to gently cup his face. “Good job. And what color is the rug?”

Paper felt a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, finding a hint of humour in his situation. He met Paintbrush’s eyes and sniffled, feeling the aftereffects of a panic attack, his muscles aching and his breathing careful and meticulous to avoid losing control again. “Dark Orange.”

Paintbrush’s smile widened and they seemed genuinely proud of him. The sight made Paper feel jittery beneath his skin. “Very good. Now…what’s wrong?”

There it was, the million dollar question. Paper sighed and looked down at his hands, subconsciously leaning closer to Paintbrush’s warmth. Maybe now that he had (miraculously) calmed down, he could finally voice what had been going on inside of his head.

“It’s..Leaf. You know how he’s dormant?” His voice was a bit raspy after all of that sobbing, but Paintbrush didn’t seem to mind, nodding and looking down at him with a focused frown. They kept their hand on Paper’s back, trying to offer as much comfort as possible. “I’m..scared, terrified that he’ll come back one of these days, and that he’ll…hurt you.” His words came out small and full of fear, like if he uttered them any louder it would come true.

Paintbrush watched him carefully, frowning. They knew how much trouble Leaf had caused for their boyfriend, and they often wished there was more they could do to support him. They pulled him into a secure hug, their face in his hair and his pressed against their shoulder.

“I won’t let him, Paper.” They knew they couldn’t guarantee it, but they were sure as hell going to try their best. What they deemed more important was the underlying message in Paper’s words, in his panic. Paper was worried Paintbrush would be scared off. They couldn’t let him feel that way.

“You know I love you, right Paper? You. Not Leaf. I know you aren’t the same person.” They spoke into his hair, hoping their words would bring him some comfort. Paper sniffed, holding on to them tighter. He mumbled something, but Paintbrush couldn’t quite pick up on it.

They gently grabbed his chin and pulled away just enough for the pair to lock eyes. “What was that?” Paper’s cheeks were flushed, and he looked nervous, but also a lot happier than he had when Paintbrush first walked in. He gave them a lopsided smile, leaning into the touch on his cheek. “Just…thank you. I-I love you too. You’re..the best partner I could ask for.” He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with them, his soft smile remaining. “I’m never able to stop feeling anxious that people will leave me, but..the way you say it, it-“ He paused, eyes tearing up again. “I can almost believe it.”

Paintbrush couldn’t help the smile that spread across their face. They looked down at Paper with unadulterated affection in their eyes, glad that they had managed to reach him. “I mean it.” They solidified their words, hoping their eyes showed their sincerity. Paper laughed wetly.

The pair sat there for a few long moments before they both became acutely aware of the fact they were sitting in the middle of the lobby. No one else was there at the moment, but Paintbrush thought Paper would likely be more comfortable in their hotel room. Plus, he deserved some cuddles. They untangled from Paper’s embrace and swung their legs over the couch. “Wanna head to my room?” —-

It wasn’t long before Paper found himself once again safely slotted into the arms of his partner. They laid on the bed, buried in the covers, facing one another. Paper felt warm and safe, and his panic attack from earlier had become an almost pleasant lingering sensation throughout his body. He much preferred the feeling of being done with a panic attack to being caught in the middle of it.

Neither of them spoke much more. They didn’t have to, looking into each other’s eyes being their strongest form of communication. Paintbrush’s hand held Paper’s cheek, their other hand propping up his head and playing with his hair. Paper had one arm draped across the artist’s waist, his other hand held close to his chest.

Paintbrush leaned forward and Paper met them halfway as they sunk into a tender touch of their lips. There wasn’t any heat to it, just pure comfort and affection.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” Paper mumbled in between the peppered kisses. Paintbrush smiled, pulling away only an inch to respond.

“And I’m even luckier to be yours.”