#//yes chocolate and coffee are god sends!

[poetsblvd]

BIRTHDAY PRINCESS ꪆৎ CL16

“Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall.” He murmurs carefully gliding across the wooden flooring towards your bedroom.

Hands holding onto a breakfast tray filled with a vast selection of your favourite fruit, coffee, eggs and of course your birthday cake.

Strawberries, cherries, blueberries and bananas all cut up and prettily put into a pearly white bowl.

Sitting in the very middle of the tray a gorgeous white chocolate, lemon and raspberry bento cake iced in pink with the words ‘happy birthday, mon amour’ steals the show.

He’d be lying if he said he made it himself, God only knows what would have happened to you and your poor stomach should he have made a Charles special birthday cake.

His teeth still rung from his last attempt at a making a homemade meal for date night, pizza? More like chewing gum.

“Leo, Leoooo, viens, réveillons la princesse d'anniversaire!” The puppy excitedly wags his tiny tail, trotting on his legs and nuzzling into Charles’ feet. ( Come along, let’s wake the birthday princess up! )

Pushing the door open with his hip he grimaces as the cool door comes in contact with his bare skin, he looks to make sure you’re still asleep and smiles when he notices you covered under the large mound of the duvet with Leo laying at your feet having jumped up to snuggle near you.

He places the breakfast tray down and rushes softly and carefully to bring in the prettiest bouquet of pink flowers wrapped in brown paper and sealed with a soft white bow.

You’re the light of his life, he thinks as he moves towards you, seating himself on the edge of your side of the bed with a clear view of your cheeks smushed into the cool pillow — that he’s sure you unconsciously flipped not too long ago — and eyes covered with a silky champagne coloured eye mask.

He runs his knuckles down your cheek, unable to contain himself from feeling just a little bit of you in the calm of the morning.

“Mon trèsor, it’s your birthday. Joyeaux anniversaire.” The words are whispered and cool against your cheek, as he smears kisses over the tiny shred of skin peeking through the covers.

“Aren’t you so excited?” He smiles indulgent and kind to your whining in the morning, chuckling as you pull your head from the pillow and into his lap.

Stroking your hair softly he whispers kisses wherever he can find, “Come on darling girl, J'ai tous tes favoris ici, Leo aussi” ( I have all your favourites here, Leo too.” )

Separating your head from his lap — albeit reluctantly — he gets up to bring you the breakfast he’s prepared, that is most definitely edible, he checked too!

“See!” Rising slowly and pulling off your sleep mask, you blink at your boyfriend and the breakfast that he’s brought with him, eyes clumping with remnants of sleeping and working hard to clear any bleariness you smile at him all gentle and sweet, sending his heart into a right tizzy.

Grinning at you he cocks his head upwards a bit towards your headboard silently asking you to sit up, then placing the breakfast tray on your lap and joining you by your feet, next to a now dozing Leo.

“Happy birthday, amour.” Handing you flowers with one hand he rubs your leg with the other.

You smile bringing them up to your nose. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“Leo would tell you happy birthday too, but he’s very tired you see.”

Laughing at your sleeping dog you nod. “Is he?”

“Oh yes! It’s very hard to nap while someone’s making noise in the kitchen, Leo’s an absolute star for doing so without waking up.” He exaggerates his words with finesse, stroking Leo’s head and smiling up at you.

You giggle hands coming over your face as a bashful expression takes over Charles, he’s sure that no matter how long you two date he’s always going to be in awe of you, in awe of everything you do and say.

He’s sure the you could make the simplest thing in the world better, and he’s thankful everyday that he has the ability to make you laugh and bring you pockets of joy in your saddest moments, and further sweeten your happiest of days.

And this is the ideal ‘happy day’. It’s a birthday, your birthday. And he’ll be damned if it isn’t perfect.

He gets up slowly, walking over to you a lighter in his hand. “Cut the cake amour!”

He lights the candles on the cake and sings softly, “happy birthday to you…”.

He pecks your nose and pulls his phone out, positioning it towards you he snaps a few photos and continues singing softly as you smile over at him.

“Je t’aime tellement.”

“Je t’aime tellement aussi Cha, merci!” He moves forward and kisses your knuckles feeding you a bit of the cake.

“You don’t have to thank me my love, ever.” You smile pulling him in for a kiss, noses brushing and smiles joining, pulling away to laugh only when you feel the patter of a now awake Leo.

“Of course, he wakes up when he smells the food!”

“Oh Charlie, I hope this isn’t another pizza incident.”

“No! I checked this time amour I promise!”

“Okay Cha.”

And when you both fell ill the next day Charles swore it was the sushi you had for dinner and absolutely not the three day expired milk he unknowingly mixed in with the eggs.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

love note , this is super cute and fluffy, and i’m so tired cause i’ve written this at 4:30 am, but thank you sm for requesting!! i hope you liked this <33

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: I'm a sleepy babay.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s a finality to the tap of your thumb. You hold the block button for a moment before you let it go. The window pops up asking if you’re sure. Yes. Certain. This is just a mistake and when you’re older and wiser, you’ll be thankful you made it. If you even remember it. 

You lay back and put your phone down. Done. Over. No more Jacob. No Andy.  

Maybe you’ll go back and see Kara again, or she can come here, even if she hates this town. You can at least be thankful that it reconnected you two, and you have to be grateful to learn a hard lesson. Don’t mess with strangers online. You’re better off alone. 

You close your eyes. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and yes, physically. Who knew scooping ice cream could be so much work? 

When you wake up, you’re sore and still groggy. The sun peers in at you brightly in the slat between the curtains. You groan and hide under the pillow. Your shift starts at noon. You can’t spend all morning doing nothing or the whole day is wasted. 

You drag yourself out of bed. Your grandma is still asleep. You’re sure she was up until dawn with her latest haul from the used book store. You clean up the cluster of wrappers around her chair and tidy up the kitchen, dumping the old coffee and brewing a new pot. 

You go to grab your phone and pause as you see an unusual notification. Your email? Huh. You don’t really use that besides for school. You open it up, thinking it might be about enrolment. No. It’s him. Andy. Holy moly. 

You scroll up and down, skimming the blocks of text. Oh god. You hit delete. You’re not reading all that. You said what needed to be said. 

You have your coffee and load the machine for whenever your mother gets out of bed. You eat and wash up, catching up on some Youtube before you make yourself get your uniform on. You head out, walking to work to enjoy the sunshine, and key in between tying on your apron and chatting with Gavin, the high schooler who does half-shifts every now and then.  

He leaves at four and you have your complimentary cone just after five. Peanut butter chocolate; classic. You eat at the window as you watch the mostly empty street. Your phone vibrates and you slide it out, hoping to take advantage of the lull. 

WhatsApp request? No way. The shammy recruiters always want a piece of you. At least you never fell for that. 

You bite into the cone and your phone suddenly blows up with Insta notifications. Bots! Ugh. So annoying. Every new follower is faceless with some generated name. You mute the notifications and put your cell away. You really are a boring person. 

As you look up, tires crush over a patch of gravel and your barely catch a glimpse of the car as it rolls just around the corner. You feel like you’ve missed something. Maybe your grandma is right about you always having your nose buried in a screen. Who is she to talk? She lives in her novels. 

Your shift ends at eight. You lock up and stop by the convenience store down the block. Nothing special, just a tray of carbonara you can shove in the nuke. As you pay at the counter, the door chimes to signal another customer. You accept your meagre meal as the other patron strides into the aisle. You don’t look over as you go directly for the door. You’re starving for more than a scoop. 

Your footsteps seem to echo through the dull streets. The frozen meal makes your hand hurt as your other holds your cell phone close. You text Kara as you finally get through the essay she wrote about Calvin’s latest antics. You wish you could convince her to play something. You feel aimless without an analog stick under your thumb. 

There’s a scuff, close behind you, loud enough to make you jump. You fumble with your phone and glance over your shoulder. You don’t see anything but the thick oak outside Luella’s. Ugh. Alright, you need to eat and lay down. It hasn’t been a busy day but still a long one. 

You pass through your grandma’s front door. She’s where she always is, in her chair, but something’s off. Something’s different. The smell of pollen hangs in the air and a pot stands on the coffee table with several white orchids tall in the soil. You frown. The last time you got her flowers, she didn’t even put them in a vase. 

“Oh, those are pretty,” you say. 

“Mph, not mine,” she grumbles, not looking up. 

“Not... who’s...” 

“Delivery man said your name. I didn’t read the card. I’m not a snoop.” 

You nod, thankful at least that she isn’t nosy. You go to the table and examine the pot. Who would send you flowers? 

You take the card off the tall pronged stick and open the envelope. You slide out the paper and unfold it. 

‘I know I’ve told you a million times, so I’ll show you how sorry I am instead. Yours always, Andy.’ 

You nearly drop your handful. Your eyes flick up to the pot and you have to stop yourself from pushing it off the table. What the hell? How... how does he know where you live? You never even mentioned what town you’re from. He only knows your college and it’s so small, he wouldn’t have heard of it. 

It’s enough to unsettle you. That he knows where you live is bad enough but the flowers themselves make a point. It’s not over. He’s not walking away but what else can you say to make him? Didn’t he get it? You think were pretty nice considering. 

“You got some boy?” Your grandma raises her eyes from the page. You can’t remember the last time she even bothered looking at you. 

“Not exactly,” you tuck the card away and put it in your pocket. “I’m going to make my dinner.” 

“Eh,” she grumbles, “fine. Get them flowers somewhere else. They stink.” 

You lift the vase, hugging it around the pot, and carry it from the room. You balance it against your hip and go into the kitchen. You use your free hand to pull open the freezer and put the pasta inside. You’re not so hungry anymore. 

🎮

The irises are pretty. The pot they came in is fancy, probably expensive. It underlines once more the gap between you and the real Jacob. Between you and Andy.

It only reminds you of how ridiculous you must have sounded. So, you just can’t understand why he’s doing this? Why is he still trying? For you? A girl with dwindling hopes of even finishing her low-tier college degree. 

You try to forget. You don’t have a shift that day but you can’t just sit around. Usually, you would. You’d hole up in your bedroom and play video games. Not anymore. He ruined that. You’re disappointed you’re letting him. 

You got down to the library for a while and wander around. There’s nothing there you’re very interested in. They still haven’t got the latest release in the series you’d read in high school. Oh well, you’ll wait around until one day you learn the fate of those revolutionary spies. 

You walk the main strip of the town. It isn’t very extensive. There’s a coffee shop and the used bookstore which also carries hobby supplies. There’s the same diner that’s been there since you were a kid and the interchangeable business that open and close year after year. 

There’s a vibe in your pocket. It’s not Kara. Another WhatsApp request, more Insta bots, and Discord. You haven’t been on the server in ages. You couldn’t keep up with all the channels and most of it was arguing about mining strategies. 

It’s Andy. Frig. You should’ve blocked him there too. You just hadn’t thought of it. 

‘Did you like the flowers?’ 

You don’t answer but he’ll see that you read it. It isn’t long before he’s typing. 

‘I am still very sorry. I wish you’d talk to me. Hear me out.’ 

Hear him out? He said everything. His son is dead and he lied to you. That’s not anything you can hash out. 

‘I know you’re not working today. I’ll make a new world and we can chat there.’ 

No. That’s not going to happen. Over. O-V-E-R. It’s done. You’re not going to be like Kara. When you cut the cord, it’s snipped. 

You won’t answer. That’s just bait. He’ll keep nibbling if you do that. You press the chat settings and block. That’s better, you can’t breathe. 

You put your phone on silent and back in your pocket. You wish you had the money to try the sushi place. It won’t last long in the bodunk town so you probably won’t ever get to. Oh well. Back on campus, they sell decent California rolls at the cafeteria. Decent, not necessarily good. 

You go home. To your grandma’s house. It doesn’t always feel like home. You know she’s counting the days until you leave. You are too. 

You wish you were brave enough to apologise. To say sorry your mom and dad didn’t want you. That she got stuck with you. It feels like saying it out loud would be worse. Just wallow in the unspoken resent, one day you won’t ever come back and maybe then you can both be happy. 

In your room, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your Switch taunts you from across the room. You want to mine or race or even scare yourself with some Hellblade. You can’t. More Youtube. More wasted time. That’s what people like you do; people from small towns with no one who loves them and no money; waste time. 

The mindless videos help you relax but not forget. You just can’t get rid of the little tickle at the back of your head. There’s a tinge of shame that remains and a sliver of guilt. It will go. It has to, one day. 

You catch yourself staring at the orchid. You can smell it. You want to throw it away but that feels rude. Even if Andy would never know, even if you shouldn’t care. He hurt you, didn’t he? He lied. Well, you could give it to Mahalia next door, she loves flowers. 

You lay in indecision. You don’t want to do anything but lay there. Now that you’re still, you have no strength. Your day off is chipped away in your laziness.  

The next day awaits you with another shift at the booth. And the day after and the day after. 

Your fourth day in a row and you get a new Discord message. You know even before you open it, even by the blank avatar and nondescript username. It’s him. Just leave me alone. Let it go. Let me forget. 

‘I know you don’t want to hear from me but I need you to hear me. I can’t stop thinking of you and what happened. I can do better. Please, let me apologise.’ 

Blocked. Again.

Work. Again.  

You’re half asleep as you fill cones with soft serve. You smile and swallow yawns, faking it for the hyper children and cheerful couples. 

When it slows, you work on cleaning the freezer, switching out empty containers with ones from the deep freeze. As you check the soft serve, there’s a tap on the open walk-up window. Oh shoot. You should’ve been paying better attention. 

You turn back to greet the next customer but as you approach the window, your chest deflates. Frozen, like the tubs around you. You stare at Andy as he smiles at you. He wears a short-sleeve button up with blue, grey, and white stripes. His hair blows in the soft breeze. 

“Do you have butterscotch ripple?” He asks brightly. 

You blink and hesitate. You don’t know what to do. How did he get here? How did he find you? Why is he here? 

You reach for the window and before he can stop you, you shut it. You lock it from the inside and step back. His face falls and his brow arches as he stands straight. He says your name, his voice muffled by the glass, and puts his palm to the barrier. 

“Please,” he begs. 

You shake your head and turn your back to him. If your manager was here, you’d be in shit. That’s a no-no. Never turn away a customer, only shut the window when you lock up. 

You ignore him and go back to tidying. There could be a line up out there but you don’t care. Your hands are shaking and it’s not just the temperature.

You just can’t believe he’s there. You can’t believe he won’t just give up. You don’t want to believe it because you’re afraid. You’re terrified and he seems entirely clueless about how scary he’s being. 

Flowers are one thing but showing up at your job? That’s a flaming red flag that even you can see. Not only because you told him plainly that you don’t want to talk to him again, but because he’s a grown man. Fortysomething and he can’t take a hint. Why would a man his age want to talk to someone as young as you? That’s another red flag on its own. As if catfishing you wasn’t enough. 

[morganbritton132]

I really think Eddie would propose to Steve every time they go to a restaurant just to get free dessert

because this man is a menace

Oh man, he would’ve only started doing it after gay marriage was legalized too.

It’s romantic when Eddie tells the waitress at Enzo’s that it’s Steve’s birthday for free tiramisu. It’s their one-year anniversary and even though they can barely afford the meal, Eddie insists that they go. He makes the reservation months in advance, saves up all his money, and even dusts off Wayne’s one good suit so he looks nice.

His car battery unexpectedly dies a few days before and Eddie kinda already knows that he isn’t going to be able to afford the meal and dessert, but he is going to make damn sure Steve gets his fancy Italian cake. And he does, after a whole song and dance that colors Steve’s face pink.

Steve gets the last laugh when it turns out Eddie doesn’t like the coffee flavor of the tiramisu.

It’s sweet when Eddie accompanies him and Hopper to a specialist Dr. Owens recommended for Steve’s worsening symptoms. It’s sweet when Eddie holds his hand while they wait for results and sweeter when he insists in all his grand Eddie Munson fashion that today actually is Steve’s birthday and he deserves – nay, it is his god given right as a hero of this goddamn country  - to have cherry jell-o.

It’s cute when on that same trip, Eddie lies to the hotel staff that Steve just got engaged so they’d send complimentary champagne and chocolate covered strawberries up to their room (though they were bunking with Hopper so not too romantic).

It’s funny when Eddie tells every restaurant they stop at in every city they visit that it’s Steve’s birthday so they can get free ice cream when they’re twenty-somethings traveling the world on a nationwide tour.

It’s so fucking embarrassing when, for no reason other than his own amusement, Eddie tells their waitress that they’re waiting for Steve’s girlfriend to arrive. He says that Steve is going to propose and Eddie is there to capture the moment on his camera, and could they have champagne ready for when she gets there?

No one arrives because there is no girlfriend, no ring, no proposal, and the restaurant staff keep giving Steve sad sympathetic looks. Eddie spends the entire night laughing his ass off and is pleased as punch when the restaurant gives them the champagne for free.

The first time Eddie gets down on one knee at a restaurant, they’ve been legally married for sixteen days. They are not teenagers anymore. They are in their forties but Steve can’t even find it in himself to be mortified at all the people staring at them because Eddie is asking him to marry him (again) and Steve wants to (again). They get a round of applause and a free chocolate cake.

The second time Eddie does it, Steve threatens to kill him. Eddie asks ‘but you’ll marry me��� and Steve angrily says ‘yes, of course, duh.’ They get side-eyed and peach cobbler.

The fifth time Eddie gets down on one knee in the middle of a restaurant, Steve cuts him off half way and says, “Sir, this is a business meeting. I am your co-worker.” 

[moonspirit]

For that send a ship thing, I was hoping Levihan, but if you don't ship them then eremika??

(or maybe AruAni?)

Hiya!

And I definitely do ship Levihan haha xD So here goes:

{Edit: Whenever Hange is referred to as "she", please feel free to read as "them" if you prefer! I revert to using "she" by default because I've been doing it for a long time :<}

Who said “I love you” first

The way I see it, Hange probably always says "I love youuuuu" in that casual unserious kind of way - and its not just Levi who hears it, it's everyone. She needs someone to do her a task? It's a "Hey will you please do this for me, oh you will? Great, thanks I love youuuu~~"

Similarly Levi gets "I love youuuu~s" every so often when she's being annoying and needs him to put up with her rambling.

But the Real "I love you" probably comes first from Levi himself. It's hard to get him to be vulnerable with words, simply because he's a man of few words in the first place, but he says it quietly, and from his heart, taking Hange by surprise. There's no doubt he means every bit of it, and suddenly, she can't really come up with any silly joke to laugh it off.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background

Hange, lol. Levi looking grumpy and tired and cute, that's her wallpaper. He on the other hand, probably has a picture of the sunset (because he's secretly a sentimental man, but shhhh) with a shopping list widget stuck on the side so it's easy for him to see what he's got to do grocery runs for.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror

Hange. And Levi fucking hates it because by the time he's reading it, the words are getting all runny and watery and blurring off, and asking her what the fuck she wrote on the mirror only gets him a "teehee! you're so slow, levi!" in response.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts

Listen, listen. I know it's easy to say Levi would get Hange very functional and useful gifts, but the man is a soppy romantic at heart. He's the one getting her a boquet of flowers, doing her a candle-lit dinner, and maybe a box of chocolates for valentines. It's his old-school gentlemanly side kicking in every time he goes gift-shopping. Hange on the other hand? Maybe a free-hot-springs gift voucher or a pair of boxers with rainbow ducks on them for him. She's a scientist, for god's sakes, don't expect her to spend time picking out the best gifts! (Secretly he finds them all cute).

Who initiated the first kiss

It was an accident. She meant to kiss him on the cheek, he turned, and smack, there it goes on the lips. She's shocked because that wasn't what she'd planned to do, and she's worried Levi will storm off, finding it to be crossing a line they've never spoken about crossing - and Levi would be disappointed inside, because that's not how he'd planned on kissing her, carelessly and without enough emotion put in. But accident it is, and now maybe they'll finally fucking talk about that stupid line - and cross it.

Once they recover, ofc.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning

Levi. I did say he's a romantic at heart. Hange sleeps late and wakes late, she's all over the bed and drooling into her pillow, he's the one getting up early to get the coffee and breakfast going. So he gives her a kiss with a scratchy "it's morning. wake up." before heading to the bathroom (because brushing teeth and shower comes first before anything else).

Who starts tickle fights

Hange! And she always loses! Cuz she's all pomp and victory at first but she's the ticklish one, not him, so when he finds an opening and stops grumbling, it's game over for her.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower

Hange. Because she's running late, she's got an experiment to get started on in her lab or a lecture to give, and she's got no time to wait until Levi finishes scrubbing himself spotlessly clean. So she asks him if she can join, and is stripping before he even says yes, prancing into the steamed-up bathroom shortly after.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch

Levi. Because Hange forgets to eat when she's neck-deep in a lab-test or studying the results of a hypothesis. So he's there with all the food she hates, because she sucks at nutrition and whatnot, and she needs to get something in her system besides just junk. But he does have a very nice milkshake for her he thinks tastes like shit. But she loves it, and he loves her, and as long as she's polished off that broccoli piece she's trying to hide, then it's okay.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date

Levi!!! Romantic at heart, didn't I say! Is secretly worried and bothered about making sure Hange has a good time! Genuinely wants her to really enjoy the date, and make it as memorable as possible!

Not that you could tell any of this from his "fuck-this-shit-I'm-out" face.

Who kills/takes out the spiders

Levi. No spiders are taking up residence in his house. Nu uh. He doesn't want the cobwebs and spider eggs. Besides, he feels bad shooing them off or killing them. Better not to have them in the first place.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk

Hange. She does it even when not drunk. Need I say more?

[distortionbobble]

"do you ever shut up" no... and nobody asked for this but i'm thinking about situationship!anakin right now. minors dni. fic has no warnings rn . might expand this one. modern au.

see the thing is, if any of your friends had gotten into this, you would have done a whooole extraction mission to get them out of it. a situtaionship? with that fine-as-fuck man? pretty wavy brown hair and that stupid fucking smile... baby your eyes look like the ocean i'm not arguing with you...

you found him on hinge during one of your dry-spells. the first thing you noticed was how pretty this man is. his profile featured pictures of him hanging out of the window of his car, gravity pulling his hair down as he flashed the camera a prize winning smile. another picture inside a restaurant, just a hint of manicured nails in the corner of the photo.. taken by an ex-girlfriend, maybe? you hum, and scroll down to see the rest of his profile.

"anakin, 22... figuring out my dating goals," you murmur to yourself, munching on your popcorn. okay, figuring out dating goals, that means... means what? a situationship? fuck, do you even have that in you? you're ready to x him out but something makes you wanna look at that face just one more time. fuck, he's pretty.

before your better judgement can stop you you're typing out a quick response to his prompts. green flags i look for are... good at legos. okay, that's cute, right? maybe he doesn't know what his dating goals are because it's kind of intense to be like, i want a long term relationship. that is a lot of pressure. you respond by sending him the lego flowers bouquet that's sitting on your coffee table (yes, your ex gifted it to you. no, that doesn't matter to you. what he doesn't know won't kill him. besides, it was a good present).

does this count? you respond, tossing your phone to the side to focus on Love Island playing on the TV, not expecting a response from anakin for at least a couple days. which is why you're almost shocked when the screen lights up with a notification from hinge.

anakin: yeah, looks pretty good to me ahaha

anakin: sent an image

anakin: rate the set up?

you open it with curiosity and a little bubbly feeling in your chest-- a cute boy matched with you, you're pretty sure it's well within your rights to be a little excited. it's a rather impressive set up of a few different lego sets, all built meticulously. you spot a few that are difficult to get your hands on, and think for a second on how to respond to him.

you: do i spot the indiana jones temple escape set?

anakin: oh my god yes that's my favorite set lmao, took ages to get it

you: dude that's so lucky

you stare at the screen, biting your lip. fuck, this is such a dry-ass conversation, it'll probably die out anyways so you don't bother sending a follow-up

anakin: honestly pretty lucky in general w all my sets. i've got a coupe unopened ones if you wanted to hang out and do them w me sometime tho? might be fun.

oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. okay, be cool about this. wait, is this code for a hookup? okay, hang out and do them with him = y'all fuck after the legos? or before? you're confused. but like, legos sounds like a fun time.

you: sounds like a good time. does friday work? we could pick up some takeout from this place on jefferson ave, if you're down

anakin: down for friday. but i was thinkin i could make you somethin? i can make a mean miso soup, if you're down.

you: seeya friday, then :)

--

you brought chocolates. to his apartment. and after you knocked on the door, you're thinking maybe this wasnt such a good idea, after all. the chocolates, and the being here in the first place.

but anakin opens the door, and his apartment smells so good, and he's got a set of space post card lego sets already open with the accompanying instruction booklet next to him.

"hi," you smile up at him, a wave of shyness washing over you as you look at him. how are people allowed to be this pretty? it's like the camera didnt do him justice, because he's at least 20x more attractive in person.

"hey. it's nice to meet you," anakin responds with a grin of his own. "d'you wanna come on in? i've just put some of the veggies into the stock. got some tofu and stuff, bok choy, it'll be good," he says, shutting the door behind you as you enter his apartment.

"nice place," you say, looking around quickly before you take off your coat and shoes.

things flow easily between you too. he tells you about his day, his job, asks you about yours, asks you about your favorite movies. you ask him about his lego sets, his decorations, his favorite music, how he learned to get so good at cooking (the soup is fucking delicious). he puts on a grateful dead song on his speakers as you work on the sets, laughing when he asks you to separate two legos that are stuck together with the nails that you have ("don't you have one of those lego-separating tools?" "those. are for pussies.").

the sets come together what feels like too quickly. you almost wanna tear it apart so that you can have an excuse to just stay for a little longer, but it doesn't seem like anakin is eager to kick you out either.

but it's late, and you should go. as you head out for the door, you feel your eyes drifting to his lips-- his pretty bottom lip, plush and rosy and you wanna sink your teeth into it-- and you know he notices too. he doesn't say anything. is a first date too early to kiss?

"well," you say, lingering at the door. "i, uh, had a good time tonight."

"me too," anakin says, equally as awkward. he leans in just a little, so that his face isn't so far, so that you don't need to look up so much.

well, that's it. no invite to a next hangout. you try not to let your face fall as you wish him goodnight and thank him for the miso soup.

you've only made it out of his apartment complex when your phone lights up with a message.

anakin: d'you wanna do smthn next week?

you smile.

[riahlynn101]

"Pancake Date."

With all the angst, I needed a little bit of a breather. So, here's a fluffy one-shot with pre-established Schmelly (Mike x Vanessa).

--

“It’s your birthday?” Vanessa asks, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

They sit across from one another at the tiny table in the security office. It had been a quiet night so far - the animatronics keeping to the main lobby and the stage. So, the threat of death-on a one to ten scale (with one being they are under no threat of death, and ten being, if they sneeze, they die)-is currently about a five, maybe six. 

Mike crosses his arms, half-asleep. Or at the very least, he looks half-asleep. The dark bags under his eyes only ever seem to get darker as time goes on. It never ceases to amaze Vanessa how he can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. The fact that she (continually) warns him about this place doesn’t seem to bother his sleeping habits. 

“Because it’s not important.” He shifts in the office chair. “Besides, it’s two in the morning. What can I possibly do in the morning?”

“Dunno….oh!” Vanessa's face lights up. “I can sing you the Fazbear birthday song.”

Mike shrinks down. “Please, god, no.” Quickly he adds, “though, I’m sure you have a great singing voice.”

“Oh, come on, don’t you want to hear the famous Fazbear birthday song?” 

Mike sends her an annoyed look (though, knowing him, maybe that’s just his natural resting face).

“Hm….can I at least take you out for breakfast?”

He frowns. “I have to be home by 8:30. I promised Max I would be home by then, and she already thinks I’m unreliable.”

It breaks Vanessa’s heart that-no matter how hard he tries-in the eyes of Mike’s (very limited) support system, his efforts will never be good enough. It shouldn’t be all on his shoulders, but it is. And she knows, without a doubt, Mike will do whatever he has to, to keep his little sister from being taken away. 

“She could come with us,” Vanessa offers. Over the time she’s known Mike (which, to be fair, hasn’t been very long) Abby has become something like a little sister to her. So, it feels less like she’s ‘tagging along’ and more like a ‘no-duh’ decision. 

“I can’t afford to go out right now. Money is really tight.” He looks almost….sad? Regretful? But probably not for himself. Mike is someone that has long since given up on caring. Caring for himself, but not caring for his sister. A realization sets in. He’s sad, because he knows Abby would enjoy going out to eat, and he can’t give that to her. 

Vanessa gives him a gentle smile. Without thinking, she says, “I’ll pay for both of you. Think of it as a birthday present.” 

Mike chews his bottom lip, considering her words. “Okay,” he says, after a solid minute of thinking. 

“Great,” she says, a pleased smile forming on her face. “I know just the place.”

-x-x-x-

After swinging over to his house to pick-up Abby, Mike meets her at the restaurant. A little diner smooshed between a used bookstore and a tire repair shop. The sign is faded with age and the windows are covered in dust. Vanessa’s almost impressed it’s still open.

They find a seat in a booth towards the back of the diner. Abby sits near the window, and Mike slides in next to her. Vanessa sits across from them, a little jittery from the copious amounts of coffee she drank last night.

“My mom used to bring me and my brother here all the time. They have the best pancakes.” She can still taste the delight concoctions her and her brother would order into their pancakes. The waitress and cooks must have thought they were insane. 

Abby’s eyes light up. “Pancakes?” She asks. “Can I get whip cream and sprinkles?”

“Abby,” Mike starts, “we can’t ask-”

Vanessa interrupts him. “Of course you can. Do you want chocolate milk with it?”

Abby nods, smiling big. “Yes, please.”

Mike mouths, “thank you.”

Again, Vanessa’s heart breaks for the two people across from her. So, she mouths back, “don’t mention it.”

-x-x-x-

The food is just as good as she remembers it. Thankfully, for once, childhood nostalgia hadn’t steered her wrong.

“Thank you, Vanessa,” Mike says.

“Yeah, thanks, Vanessa,” Abby tells her, hugging Vanessa. “The food was really good.” She looks back at her brother. “And I think you made my brother happy. He really likes you.”

Mike claps. “O-kay, time to go.” 

“I think you guys should get married- hey!” 

Mike pulls her to the car. “Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?” He laughs, but there is undeniably panic in his eyes. “Thanks again, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

Abby waves at her, a mischievous smile on her face. 

Vanessa waves back, watching them leave. 

An excited, almost giddy feeling wells up in her chest. She walks to her car, the caffeine high she’s been on since eleven last night has started to lessen, but Vanessa hardly notices. Her heart continues to beat fast, and it’s hard to see her face in any of the mirrors at this angle, but she’s confident it’s bright red. 

On the way home, all she can think is:

he likes me. 

And maybe that’s childish of her, to dwell on that thought. It’s just a stupid crush, but for some reason, she can’t stop thinking about it. Vanessa is a fairly logical person. Outside of ghosts in an abandoned pizzeria, she holds herself to a certain standard of intelligence.

But maybe, for once, it would be okay to have this one little thing. Even if Mike doesn’t actually like her, it wouldn’t hurt to hold that feeling close to her chest. He’ll be gone or dead within the week. 

Her heart clenches painfully, at the thought of Mike being dead. The thought of him being beyond her reach, just like her brother, makes Vanessa want to scream at the top of her lungs. She wants him to stay with her, for as long as possible. 

Which means, she can’t let him win. Contract or not, Vanessa will save Mike. 

Even if it costs Vanessa her life.

[ofc-vi-writes-too]

More Bucky Headcanons just because ✨✨

some are +18 so if that makes u uncomfy or u are -18 please scroll!! It is clearly labelled where they start, so if u only want one or the other the division is there!!

this got kinda long lol sorry

—————————————

PG 13 SECTION:

• He has a lot of old fashioned/outdated beliefs so sometimes he’ll say something and you just have to look at him and go 😀😄😀 “no.” and then have a conversation with him about why what he just said is objectively morally corrupt. He’s very open to it and it doesn’t happen a lot but when it does he’s willing to understand and he asks questions about whatever messed up thing he said. He’s very progressive for a man who was in his early 20’s in 1945.

• he has a lot of old fashioned/outdated beliefs so ur dates are literally superior and your instagram is filled with people commenting things like “if you look closely you can see me swinging in the background” or “hey god its me again” and you cant forget the classic “when will it be my turn.” He brings you flowers at least once a week, and chocolates are a MUST for him, and as soon as he found out about edible arrangements there is one on your desk at work at least once a month. you tell him your gonna get fat from all the sweets he brings you and he says “good” and thats the end of that convo.

• on the note of food, he’s a fantastic cook. Most of the time. He has tried on multiple occasions to feed you depression era foods (balogna caserole, jello molds, pea pasta, etc) one time he made you a jello mold with olives and tuna in it and you got physically sick (it was the first time he saw you throw up so he kinda just stood there like 😬 and patted your back like “there there, my bad ill never give you tuna+jello in the same dish again” which he STILL makes for himself) so he decided to stick with more modern recipes for actual meals (which are always delicious). But he swears on his life that dessert recipes were better when he was a kid, and he always bakes you the sweets his mom made when he was little such as, apple pie, wacky cake, water pie, prune pudding, frozen fruit salad.

• he really likes crispy cookies so he’ll take urs out when theyre cooked the regular amount, and he leaves his in the oven for like another 10 minutes at minimum. He likes it best when the edges of the cookies are literally burnt and when the chocolate even gets crispy. He dips em in milk though which i guess is slightly redeeming? But the crunch on his cookies should be punishable by law. It counds like crisps when he chews.

• Texts like:

Bucky ❤️❤️

Hey…

hey?? u good?

Yes. I just wanted to say

I love you…

ilyt.. y r u being

so ominous?

I am not…

I just wanted to send you

this big long paragraph chunk

about how much I love you. It

has to be grammatically correct

because I’m old and it will take

me 15 minutes at minimum to

finish typing this text because

I am typing with one hand, and

I have big thumbs. Thank god

for voice memos. Also what

does OMG mean?

————————————————————————

it drives you insane but he physically cannot comprehend any other way to text. He also had a flip phone until you forced him to get a new one. When he gets it he doesn’t send you texts anymore, and instead only sends voice memos (its so much faster)

• loves a sweet treat but is terribly embarrassed about it. Literally the trope where the big scary guy orders a black coffee “for himself” and his cute girly gf gets like a sugar unicorn rainbow suprise, and after they get their drinks they switch. He makes you order it with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. If you like sweet drinks too, he will still order the black coffee and not drink it. He will consistently order 3 drinks despite there only being 2 of you. Sometimes he drops it off w Steve because he knows he likes black coffee and he hates waste, but he is still too embarrassed to just order his drink.

• cried watching Up, Toy Story 2, The Princess and the Frog, Moana, The beauty and the beast (which was ur halloween costume the year he first watched it. His choice.) and Cars (you still don’t know why he cried about cars to this day and it has been YEARS.)

• despite being an ex assassin, when he’s not in fight or flight mode he’s terribly unathletic. He talks big game before a bowling date and he literally bowls a 45. You didn’t know anyone over the age of 8 could score that low in a game where you simply roll a ball. You also took him to In Shape to play tennis and he hit a car with the ball.

• his body physically cannot handle energy drinks. as much sugar as he consumes, energy drinks make him jittery and paranoid for some reason, and despite being a relatively quiet man, he doesn’t shut up when there’s a red bull in his system

• pro legalizing weed in all states. Tried an edible one time before bed because he overheard someone say it or read somewhere that it can help with sleep, and he swears he had never slept that good in over 100 years of being alive. Even pre super soldier serum.

• He’s a man of few words so in the beginning of u 2 going out there would be long periods of awkward silence. He took you on a lot of movie dates so he could avoid this problem as much as possible.

•Def doesn’t wear his arm to bed so you guys have an easier time spooning. You don’t have to deal with the problem that a lot of couples have where you wanna cuddle but his arm falls asleep cs ur laying on it. but for him theres no arm to lay on!!!! yippeee!!! Cuddling in bed typically looks like him being the big spoon with his right arm around your waist. His left shoulder is in whatever position his decides is comfortable that night. He also has a habit of not sleeping with his head on the pillow so you typically feel his nose/breathe against the small of your back. He often kisses you there while rubbing your side to put you to sleep

• cuddling is a little different when he has a bad nightmare tho. Sometimes he doesn’t want to cuddle so he’ll lay on the floor on your side of the bed and go back to sleep there, or at least try to. Thats usually what happens if you don’t wake up. If you do, you go and get him a glass of water, and a cold rag to wipe is sweat off. You give him a minute until he’s ready to lay back down. He lays on his back, and you suction yourself to his side. One leg over his and your arm on his chest, rubbing soothing patterns to try and slow his hammering heart. You kiss where you can reach, but he’s huge, so its usually just his shoulder and chest, and you tell him all your favorite things about him, and how much you love him, and how safe he is here in your arms. It works 95% of the time.

RATED R SECTION:

• its ur lucky day if ur a pillow princess! he likes being able to physically take care of his partner without them having to do any work. He feels like it’s his way of saying thank you for staying with him thru all his trauma and whatnot

• if his s/o is plus sized he will make the effort to be able to lift 2 times their weight bare minimum (which doesn’t take that much effort on his part), and he gets a little smug when he lifts his partner up against the wall the first time and they’re a little shocked because hey no one has ever been able to do that before what is happening oh noooo BOOM you’re in love

• usually not the one to initiate anything. He feels like he’s pressuring you when he does, but you can always tell when he’s in the mood because he gets clingy and cannot look you in the eye.

• in the same vein, he doesn’t really get horny that often but when he does… whew chile GOOD LUCK. Super human stamina is a gift and a curse with him!!

• he doesn’t like to mark you up, but he loves it when you do. He likes getting done and seeing the scratches on his back in the mirror, or having to cover up hickeys with turtlenecks. His favorite is when he makes you help him cover the harder to hide ones to his with makeup. (he bought the right color for himself but didn’t know how to use it). LOVE LOVE LOVES when you bite him.

• Again, he’s typically a man of few words but he will mumble random things “to himself” but loud enough for you to barely hear it too. a lot of “so fucking good,” “pretty girl” “all mine” “all yours” “tell me I’m yours” “say your mine” and other things of that nature

• I think I said this in the last one but I’m a firm believer that he wouldn’t wear his arm unless he had to/felt unsafe. and I would argue that he feels pretty safe if yall are doing the shaboingboing. SO holding you is a little difficult for your amputee bf. Getting into a good and comfortable position for both of you tends to bring a lot of laughs.

•He likes to touch you a lot while y’all are getting down and dirty. It helps ground him in a way. He struggles a little bit with dissociation, even when getting intimate so being able to feel your skin under his palms helps keep him on Earth and focused on getting his s/o off.

————————————————————————

A/N: thank you if you resd this far. dont be shy and leave a note behind! i have more chapters of friends dont on the way i swear. Im genuinelu just slow IM SORRY AHH

anyways good night cuties 🌙💫⭐️✨

[sreidsville]

timeless – spencelle.

"cause i believe that we were supposed to find this... so, even in a different life you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless."

summary: elle enters a store and begins to remember her life years ago, before suddenly having to cut the bond that took years to build with her friends and her boyfriend.

disclaimers: suggestive content (+14), emotional situations, arguments, overthinking, mention of panicking.

trope: fluffy, second chance.

n/a: guys… take a deep breath before reading, kay? u'll be fine, i promise, we're going to have a happy ending! also, english it's not my first language, so let me know if there's anything i can improve!

divider by cafekitsune | wc: 3.6k

Down the block, there's an antique shop, a cute and old one, where you find stories in every object in there.

The sky looks gray-ish, and the leaves falling down the street reminded Elle about something special that she has kept in her heart for the past years. Something… someone, but definitely special.

Elle was just passing by, like she always does. Wearing a green shirt, pants, a blazer, high heels and in her hand, coffee. She passes though the same way everyday, but today in specific, something in her head said: Stop! So she walked in.

The bell on the door indicated her arrival, an old man gave her a smile and looked at her over his glasses, but he didn't say anything, so Elle walked around the place, admiring what was around her.

There are pictures, paintings, vinyls, and objects that she had only seen in films from the 50s. Elle looked around one more time, and a pile of books caught her attention. She walks through the corridor, trying to be cautious not to break anything. The first book at the pile made Elle hold her breath, memories crawling back to her mind. Beautiful days, when she was younger… She remembers every detail from that time. She takes the book, holding it, and then, taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes. For a second, it was like she could go back in time, feeling everything. The yellow light coming from the large window, the smell of books and perfume, the comfortable couch, and the most important…

“Elle?”

His voice.

5 years ago.

“Elle?” Spencer’s voice echoes in the room, and the beautiful woman gives him a smile, staring at his face.

She came to his house after texting him if she could, and he, obviously, said yes.

For Elle, he looks absolutely adorable, wearing the sweater she gifted him last week, in halloween. She saw it at the store, the colors orange and black highlighted, and the voice in her head said automatically: he would love that! So she bought it. Little did she know that the sweater is his favorite now. Besides that, he's wearing glasses, Elle’s favorite.

She went to Spencer's apartment after sending a message asking if she could. He said he would leave the door open for her, so when he left the room, she was in the living room, and had taken the liberty of sitting on the couch and observing the place. Spencer’s space is him in objects. Elle sees Spencer in every little detail in there, whether it's the books open on the desk and scattered everywhere, or the coffee machine that she knows is on in the kitchen.

“Hi, Reid” she says.

“What are you doing here?” He approaches with a smile on his face, and she can smell soap and perfume. He just got out of the shower.

“You know, I just wanted to see you, and you told me that the door would be open for me anytime, so, I guess it's not a big surprise seeing me in your living room with donuts…”

This time the smile reaches his eyes, and Elle can't help but smile too. She's wearing a red shirt and black pants. Her brown eyes almost hypnotize Spencer, bringing all his attention to them. God, she looks so pretty.

“You brought donuts?”

“Yes, and it's your favorite” she opens the box, showing him “Chocolate with sprinkles”

“Awn…” Elle left the gaze up to his face again. She loves when he makes these little excited noises when he's happy. It's cute. “Thanks, Elle!”

The BAU members are off, so Elle and Reid spend the rest of the day watching movies like good friends and eating the donuts Elle bought earlier. As time passed, they got closer on the couch, and as much as Reid didn't like physical touch, he didn't mind Elle laying on his shoulder. He sighed when he noticed that she had fallen asleep. Elle is a loving, dedicated and strong woman, but she is also delicate. Reid wants to be the one who protects her when she needs it, a shoulder for her to cry on. And admitting it makes his heart race inside the chest.

“Spencer?”

“Hm? What is it Elle? Are you ok?”

She looks at him, with her head still resting on his shoulder, that way, their faces are close to each other, and Spencer feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise with Elle's breath there.

"Spencer, do you ever feel like you have no control over things?"

"Yes, sometimes"

"Okay... I don't think I can control something I desperately want right now."

Elle lifts her head from his shoulder, and looks into his eyes, but then quickly looks down at his lips, which are slightly open. Their faces are still close, and even more so now, Spencer can feel her breath against his face.

"What do you say to that?"

"That I can't resist either…”

Thousandths of seconds. That's how long it takes for Elle to kiss Spencer. It seems difficult to contain yourself when you've wanted something for so long, that's why when their lips are together, they start to move against each other in a way that Spencer couldn't describe in any way other than special. When Reid sighs against Elle's lips, it's as if something inside her melts, so she deepens the kiss, feeling Spencer's hands move until they hold her face, delicately, in a perfect fit.

They only move away from each other when the rain outside starts hitting the living room window, scaring them for a second, but soon after, they both start laughing, and the atmosphere between them becomes more and more unique… The look Spencer gave Elle made her think that nothing in the world would make her forget that moment. The moment they finally accepted the feelings they had for each other.

“It's raining…”

“I guess I'll need to stay here for a little bit longer…” she smiles, hugging Spencer.

“I’m gonna love that”

The smell of rain reminds her of another day that would be etched in her memory.

4 years ago.

"Elle! It's raining!" Spencer coughs while laughing, running through the streets with his bag over his head, in a failed attempt to protect himself from the falling drops.

Elle also laughs, and when she realizes that Spencer is behind, she pulls him by the hand so that they can run together to the facade of the building where she lives.

They were at a coffee shop hours ago, and after drinking an overpriced coffee, they decided to walk around the center, visiting stores and buying things they probably don't need, but would like to have. Nobody knew about their relationship, even though jokes about their closeness were part of their daily lives, they still didn't know how to admit it to others, so they kept it just between themselves, without labels, they just allowed themselves to feel.

After passing through the hallways and going up to Elle's apartment floor via the elevator, they are greeted by the warm space heater. Spencer takes off the wet All Star and is left with just her colorful socks, which Elle thinks is cute. The woman goes to the bathroom, taking the towel, drying her own hair before offering Reid to do the same, but she can't help but notice how handsome he looks with his wet hair and the tight shirt on his body. It's not like Spencer isn't noticing the delicate contours of Elle's body curves either, and when he realizes he's being watched, he feels his cheeks flush.

"You can stay here until the rain stops..." she says, heading to the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker to make coffee for the two of them. "It's going to be difficult to catch the subway now, everyone must have rushed there."

“Ah, it would be great to spend time with you, actually.”

"Even though we worked today and spent the whole afternoon together?"

"I never get tired of seeing you..."

Elle smiles at the statement, and goes to Spencer, hugging his waist as she looks at him.

Reid can't resist the closeness and caresses Elle's cheek, smiling lightly as he kisses her forehead, and then kisses her lips, delicately but intensely. She sighs, raising her hands to his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken, Elle loves it when Spencer takes action.

As the kiss continues, the world around them seems to slowly disappear, and before they know it, their hands are running over each other's bodies, their breathing becomes labored and their touches become more urgent, just like the kiss. With a quick movement, Spencer turns off the coffee maker, without moving away from Elle's body, and slides one of his hands to her waist, pulling her closer, but she pulls away enough to see the expression on his face, and it's pure desire, no matter how much Reid tries to hide it. And that's what makes her guide him to her room, closing the door the moment they're inside, alone.

That was supposed to be just a kiss, but the moment they end up in Elle's room, things get more intense and desperate. Now Spencer is sitting on her bed, she's on top of him. His hands are exploring her thigh, his index finger doing circular moves while her hands play with his hair, messing it.

They know what's going to happen next, but when Elle moves her hips against his, it's surprising the way he whimpers and grabs her upper thigh, making her whisper his name, and it's the most beautiful thing he heard in his whole life. For a moment, they both stop the kiss to look at each other. They don't need to say anything, they have this connection between them. Elle is mesmerizing, her brown eyes showing how much she loves him. Spencer keeps staring at her, his Adam’s apple going up and down multiple times, showing that he's nervous and his mind is full of thoughts.

“We don't need to do this if you don't want you, you know that right?”

“I know… But I want to.” His voice is nothing more than a weak whisper.

“Now?”

“Please…”

She doesn't need anything else before moving towards Spencer's lips once again, this time pushing him to lie down on the soft sheets, remaining on top of his body, teasing him from time to time, listening to him whisper how beautiful she is, how much he loves her as she kisses his neck, leaving small marks that make him whimper, increasing the heat in Elle's body.

The senses seemed ten times more acute. What were sighs became low moans as things progressed between the disheveled sheets. Elle and Spencer are so immersed in heat that they almost get drunk on each other's touches.

The minutes pass, and soon, all that's left are sweaty bodies, uneven breathing and a loving hug in which Spencer wraps Elle until they finally fall asleep.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever, and even though Elle knew this, she allowed herself to stay in Spencer's arms, even if it meant destroying him later, against her will. That night everything was just a distant fear, but after a while, it became reality.

Their world began to fall apart before Elle could react to try and save them from the inevitable.

3 years ago.

The rain outside the BAU unit is too heavy for people to leave, yet Elle is running after leaving the team leader's office. Spencer knows something is wrong, his girlfriend started changing her behavior months ago, and yet she hasn't told him anything in that time. She seems angry, scared, inconsolable, and most of the time, desperate. No one but Hotch and Gideon knows that she is struggling to protect everyone after an unsub threatens them, and the best way to do that is to cut the bond that she took years to build, including her relationship with Reid.

When she passes by collecting her belongings, Spencer tries to hold her arm, but Elle brutally lets go, and doesn't even look him in the eye. Which makes him think of many possibilities.

‘Is she leaving...? Without telling me anything?’ he asks himself, and the moment the adrenaline starts coursing through his veins, his legs move quickly to reach the woman.

He hears JJ calling him, but the voices of the people around him begin to fade away as the sound of the rain increases as he heads outside.

He finds her, already in the rain, and his only option is to go after her, letting the water start to weigh down his sweater. Elle knows that Reid is after her, and that makes her heart skip a beat, because she understands that he doesn't want to give her up, he would never do that, unless...

"Elle!"

Unless she told him to do it.

"Elle, please, please. What's wrong? Why are you acting like this? Elle?"

"Spencer, leave me alone!"

"Leave you alone?" she keeps walking, trying to get away from him "Why? Elle, could you please...? Elle!”

He grabs her arm, making her stop running from him, from the BAU, from her life, but it's not like she has any other option, she just can't stay, not anymore. He's panting, his heart is pounding in his chest, and the rain is almost blinding him, the falling drops hurt, it just doesn't hurt more than the look Elle directs at him. She seems determined, and he somehow knows there's nothing he can do, yet he doesn't want to accept that fact.

Elle can barely look him in the eye, but she needs to be firm, she needs to convince him. She knows what will happen if she fails. She'll start crying, Reid will hold her, make her stay, looking at her with those brown eyes and... She won't be strong enough.

"Spencer, please let me go." she says in a weak voice.

"You need to tell me what's going on... Elle? Please look at me. You've been acting differently for weeks now! You seem nervous, scared. You don't talk to me or anyone else and I-I don't know how to help you. Tell me...

"I..." she starts, but the words seem to disappear from her mind before she can say something coherent, so she takes a deep breath, starting again "I have nothing to tell you.”

“Don't you have anything to tell me? Even when I'm begging you to tell me something, anything?"

She can't answer. It feels like there's something stuck in her throat. Elle can't even look at Spencer, but she needs to be strong to push him away, to make him believe it's for the better. Spencer is very precious to this world, and she knows that, so she needs to protect him, so that no one hurts him again. That's what she needs to keep in mind now.

"Is it me? Did I do something wrong?"

He says it in a low voice, as if he's going over everything that happened in his head, looking for details that don't exist, answers to why she's leaving, and it hurts Elle. She doesn't deserve him.

"What? No, no, Spencer…”

Elle's eyes start to burn and get wet and she doesn't know if it's because she's about to cry or if it's because of the rain. She can't do this anymore. Spencer has always had this thing where he blames himself when something goes wrong, he thinks he's the problem, when in fact, he's the solution, the light, he just can't see it yet.

'Oh my sweet, sweet boy... If you only knew...'

"Then why? Why are you doing this to me?"

He is hurt, his voice is full of pain. She can't say anything, she doesn't have that kind of response right now, so she looks away to something else, anything that catches her attention, except Spencer.

"Elle, why?" he approaches, trying to hold her hand "You look so scared and I can't see you like this anymore, please let me help you lo-"

"No!" she screams, and the sound echoes like thunder, making Spencer automatically back away, stunned, without understanding the reason for it all.

'Right, I need to do this, no matter how much it hurts him. He'll be fine without me, I know he will and if ever, somehow, he gets angry and blames me, I'll be happy, because it's true, it's all my fault. I just wish I could make it clear that he has nothing to do with this…’

"I don't love you anymore! Don't you understand?"

Spencer's eyebrows knit together, and his nostrils flare, as if he doesn't even understand. His mouth is open, and he's trying to say something but his thoughts are faster than his mouth.

"W-what?" he whispers.

"I can't do this anymore! This..." she opens her arms and spins around. "Us, this job, this life. It's not what I want!"

"You don't...? It's not what you want." he repeats, more to himself, trying to assimilate the words.

"Yes, exactly. I don't want to live like this anymore, I'm leaving... So if you love me, let me go, please..."

She's taking it hard, using the last weapon she has – and the most lethal – knowing that's what she needs. And it happens. Reid takes a step back, ecstatic, as if on autopilot, dissociating from the painful situation. Elle takes a deep, shaky breath, grateful for the rain that forms a curtain that disguises the tears.

She turns around, facing away, and at the last second, she turns to Reid one last time, and one last time, she allows herself to watch him with wet hair and his gaze fixed on her, as if she doesn't believe it.

"Goodbye, Spencer..."

He doesn't respond, so all Elle does is sigh, taking the car key and getting inside, closing the door with a single slam, and then leaving the parking lot. Reid just watches her car disappear, and somehow, he wishes it was a nightmare, but it's not, and deep down he knows it.

Spencer doesn't really know what happened after he saw Elle leave. He walks back inside the BAU unit, looking at the floor, memories flooding his memory.

'No... It can't be. All the smiles she gave me, the kisses, the nights together, the beautiful moments, were they lies? She didn't want to? Did she want that at some point, or did she pretend?'

Reid feels firm arms around him, and only then does he realize he's on the floor, with Derek hugging him as he cries profusely, sobbing, holding onto his friend as if he were the only real thing there. JJ and Penelope stare at the scene shocked, without understanding anything, desperate for not knowing how to help, while, further away from the group, Hotch and Gideon exchange a complicated look, full of regret, sharing a secret that they will keep until the day they die…

"S-she left..." Reid sobs, running his hands over his face, looking like a child "She s-said..."

He begins to hyperventilate, feeling his chest burning. He can't even breathe properly, he's shaking, causing Derek to ask for help so he can take him to a more private place, while Garcia takes a glass of water to offer.

That day was the worst of Spencer's life, but it was definitely the worst for Elle as well.

Elle drove to the airport that night, her bags were already packed for the last week, in the car. Everything seemed like a blur; the moment she gets out of the car and goes straight to the airport, checks in and, after hours, gets on a plane with a predefined destination.

Looking up at the window, her eyes blurred with tears, she allowed herself to cry. The woman next to her seems scared, but does nothing to help her, because there is no comfort in Elle's heart, other than the certainty that, by leaving, she will be saving the lives of everyone she loves.

Hers only prayer during the hours inside the plane was just one; please let me see them again someday.

She just hoped it would happen.

Current time.

Three years ago, Elle left everyone she loved and cared about to save them without even thinking twice. After a while, she learned to move on, but she also couldn't avoid the thoughts and memories of the past that invaded her memory. Spencer would be engraved on her, and she was sure that in another life, they would be each other's.

Opening her eyes, she returns the book to the pile it was in before, and takes a deep breath, smiling, and then gets ready to leave, with the promise that she would return to that same store one day, but to buy something.

As she's walking back the way she came, the doorbell rings, and she hurries to get back to her routine, but her feet settle on the floor when she sees him.

The same light brown hair, but now a little longer and with beautiful waves, the beautiful profile that Elle never stopped admiring, and the eyes... Those eyes. She would never forget him, she couldn't. When he notices her presence there, something inside him lights up once again, after years, and he straightens his posture, looking at her with tenderness, even after everything that has happened.

"Elle?"

And his voice sounds like divine singing. How she missed hearing him call her name... The happiness inside her is too much to contain, so a smile appears on her face.

And there she understands that they will be timeless, no matter what happens.

"Hi, Spencer”

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Snowed In (Good Omens One-Shot)

Aziraphale x GF/GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: It's time you came out to Aziraphale as genderfluid.

Fic type: fluff

GOMENS: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @florduarte @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow @jaziona92 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The snow was usually one of your favourite things about Winter. The cold, brisk air, the soft puffy jackets and layers, and the crunch of snow underfoot as you went about your business from place to place. 

One of the only things you weren’t keen on though was getting snowed in. Not unless you had company, of course. Then it was alright. 

The snow had fallen quite thick last night, and because of this, you found yourself stuck in Aziraphale’s bookshop. At least until the snow started to melt and you could escape into the street again. 

Not that you were all that upset about being trapped there, anyway. The Bookshop was one of your favourite safe spaces. The only thing was, well, you had something you needed to tell him. 

“Goodness, don’t you just adore the snow?” He asked, coming out of the kitchenette with two mugs of cocoa. “I must say that God certainly knew what she was doing there. Who knew little white flakes could bring so much whimsy?” 

You couldn’t help the affectionate tilt of your lips at that. Aziraphale always had the oddest of things to say. It was like he viewed the world through a classic Disney lens. 

“So true,” you replied, eyeing the soft flakes through the window. Taking the mug of hot chocolate from him, you took a sip before placing the mug down. “So, uh, Zira? I’ve, uh, got something I wanted to tell you.” 

Aziraphale tore his attention away from the window immediately, casting his full attention upon you. He sipped at his drink and encouraged you to sit down opposite him. Your fingers twisted together anxiously. 

“I- I think I better stand for this, actually,” you said, unsure. Perhaps today wasn’t the best day for this, after all. There was nowhere to run if it didn’t go well. You were completely snowed in. Oh, Jesus, this was going to be a disaster. 

You took a shaky breath, forcing your nerves to calm. 

“Oh, right, yes, of course,” Aziraphale nodded, standing up again. He watched you quietly, waiting for you to utter whatever it was you wanted to tell him. If he was concerned at all by your anxiousness, he didn’t let on. 

“I, so, oh God, uh, you know how sometimes I- fuck, let me start again,” you panicked. Aziraphale stepped forward, mug suddenly sitting on the coffee table beside his armchair even though he hadn’t moved. He took your hands into his own and softly rubbed his thumbs over the back of your hand. 

“So, I’m, you know how sometimes I refer to myself as a guy, and sometimes as a girl when I’m joking around?” You asked carefully, drawing strength from his soft touch. Aziraphale nodded quietly, giving you an encouraging smile. “I’m, uh, I’m genderfluid.” 

There it was, slapped out on the table like a newborn. Vulnerable, naked. Afraid. You didn’t even realise how tense you were until he let out a breath, and you copied the motion. 

“Genderfluid,” Aziraphale tested the syllables on his tongue. “Gender- oh, yes, is that the one where what you identify with changes from time to time? Yes, I think I read about that in a magazine somewhere.” 

You blinked, not surprised by his instant taking-to of your identity, but surprised at yourself. You were so used to bracing for disaster that it almost felt like a blow to the senses when it actually… went well. 

“I- it depends on the person, but, yeah, that’s the one,” you replied barely above a whisper. Tears started to swell in your eye line, blurring the man before you. Aziraphale tutted and brushed a thumb over your cheek comfortingly. 

“Now, now, my dear,” he said affectionately. “There’s no need for tears. No, no. Ah, yes, see, that’s better. A shame to hide such a handsome smile.” 

A soft blush tinted your cheeks at the compliment. 

“Now, I simply must know,” he said seriously, though there was always that smile in the corners of his mouth. “Are we my handsome, strapping buck today, or my stunning, beautiful doe?” 

You gave your answer, and Aziraphale gave the smallest hint of a nod before reaching to put your cocoa back in your hands. 

“Okay. I think given the unfortunate circumstances of our weather situation, perhaps we can reorganise the biographies today. What do you think?” Aziraphale looked warily towards the biography section in the dark corner of the shop. “I had been avoiding it as much as possible, but perhaps I should take this as a sign.” 

You snorted a laugh behind your mug and gave Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze with your free one. 

“Sounds like a plan, dearest.”

[tachimichishrine]

"barista"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

hunting dogs x gn!barista!reader hcs

warnings: none!!

jouno saigiku

oh dear

harasses everyone

harasses his partner

harasses his mf FOOD

by this, I mean he sends things back, not bc he isn't satisfied but bc he can

ESPECIALLY if his partner is on their shift, he'll be extra nasty

"what can I get you today, Jouno?"

"an iced coffee, with specifically 5 cubes of ice 2cm by 2cm, 1 pack sweetener, a drizzle of chocolate and 25ml of 3% milk and, oh, do you have chocolate sprinkles? yeah, I want some of that on top, add some whipped cream too and-"

orders the longest thing and then sends it back because "there were incomplete sprinkles" while staring down the barista with a huge grin

his partner is literally on the verge of breaking up with him for this

however, sometimes he gets bored of toying with them and just orders a coffee

he likes to observe people

it's kinda creepy but he'll pick a seat in the corner and listen as his partner writes down orders and smiles at other people, and then gets somewhat internally offended when they laugh at the random customer's dumb jokes

he narrows his eyes (even more, if that's possible?) at them at wonders why he doesn't make them laugh as loudly as that

takes it as a challenge

now you've got a clingy af jouno who sticks around the desk and seduces his way into the kitchen by flirting with the manager (his partner's boss)

his partner wants to YELL at him that they have to work, but he just places his hands on their hips and kisses their forehead and gives them the slightest hug and tells them how much he loves them, so their partner reluctantly tolerates his presence around their work

he may not know how to cook but he smells every single ingredient and is a surprisingly fast learner so the manager is lowkey trying to recruit him bc of his undeniable talent 👹

overall, he does help in the end, but his partner has to put up with a lot of teasing and nastiness. occasional jokes and cute little pranks where jouno would place a heavily powdered donut under their nose to make them sneeze and eventually messing up the ENTIRE place

but damn, those perfect milkshakes he made are worth it all

tecchou suehiro

he is easily distracted

asks his partner all sorts of things

"hey, how do they make coffee?"

"well, you put the beans in the machine-"

"beans???"

"yes??? coffee beans???"

"coffee???comes???from??beans???"

"yes, tecch, it does u adorable idiot 🙄"

"does that mean you can make coffee out of the beans they put in burritos and stuff?"

"no- wait I don't think so- actually, maybe-"

other customers overhear the discussion and chip in and the entire thing escalates to the WEIRDEST topics

the manager is pretty impartial as to his presence, given that he doesn't disturb anyone and usually just orders and silently observes his partner with a faint smile on his lips

his partner turns, notices his gaze and bites the inside of their cheek to prevent themselves from blushing/grinning at him, then get back to work

they do, however, like to blow him little kisses while on their shift, or to leave a small note on Tecchou's orders like "ily <3" or "you're so cute 💕"

he is a gentleman omg

he once spent the entire time his partner was on their shift holding the door for the people who entered

gets asked if he works there, and he automatically replies yes and helps everyone with their stuff, whether it's a broken glass or spill or if they need sweetener in their drink

nvm the manager now loves him

he makes it a point to visit his s/o as often as possible when they're working, even if they live together or have a date planned for later that day. he might not say much, but he loves to be in their presence as often as possible

a literal GOD at taking care of angry customers

whereas jouno would probably subtly threaten them, Tecchou is just gonna walk up to their face and be rly straight-forward about it

"sir, what's your problem?"

"I placed my order for coffee, a SINGLE COFFEE OVER HALF AN HOUR AGO AND I STILL HAVEN'T RECEIVED IT??? THIS SERVICE IS TERRIBLE-"

"sir, just take a breath. the employee over here is going to make it for you right away, and free of charge, right?"

ofc, they'd nod and do as he said bc the person is no longer fuming

the biggest issue with having tecchou in the café is his orders

he asks for the oddest things, including, but not limited to, sugar on rice and a hard-boiled egg with the shell still on

his partner makes sure to explain to their boss that this isn't anything abnormal for him, and that they'll make sure to take care of the order themselves

after all, putting together a weird food combo in order to get a chubby-cheeked tecchou stuffing his face with sugary rice is very worthwhile

teruko okura (aged up?? ig??? bc children running around a café is odd i think?? wtf is her real age-)

she is NOT made to be in a café with a serene vibe

no bc she picks up fights with everyone who breathes

"hey, idiot, stop breathing so loudly or else i'll come over there and shut you up myself-"

her partner thus keeps a stall in the very corner specifically for her that's far away from the other people 😐

teruko loves sugary and spicy flavors all in one, like a strong cinnamon or ginger, any type of warm drink that smells strongly rly

her partner does that mystical thing with the milk that creates a heart on the surface of the drink that looks so cute 

teruko chugs down the drink without even looking at it 💀

she isn't one for those kinds of gestures, and would much rather physically cling to her partner's side instead

sneaks up from under the counter and then pops up like a weasel with a HUGE smile on her face, the kind of cute smile that is like, showing all of her teeth and SUPER contagious and makes you wanna pat her on the head and hug her

the manager DOES NOT agree with this tho and kicks her out repeatedly. teruko is so close to snapping the manager's neck but her partner intervenes and reminds her that they still need their job

the entire café, teruko concludes, is against her

the powdered sugar gets thrown into her face by an unknown force

salt gets dumped on her hair

she slips on a puddle in the corner

the milkshake machine explodes in her face

it's just NOT her scene

that is the last time she visited her partner while at work, telling them that she's going to be waiting outside once their shift is over bc the pain is NOT worth it

fukuchi ochi

fukuchi barely has time to spend with his s/o, given how much of a busy man he is

so, he'll support them by financing the café itself and making sure they get high-quality ingredients and that the working conditions are acceptable

he does make it a point to ONLY get his coffee from there, tho, but doesn't use it as an excuse to talk to his partner. he's in he gets the coffee, then he's out

for this reason, his partner - who is not an idiot and needs human affection just like the rest of the planet - "suddenly and mysteriously" becomes a klutz

"accidentally" drops the coffee on him as they're serving his order, which leads him to freak out, and then rush to the bathroom to wash it off

apologizing profusely, his partner will follow him to the bathroom and help him out, using this as an opportunity to 1) get him to take off his shirt 😌 2) talk to him

this happens for about 3 weeks before his dense ass realizes that they just want some love

tries this out, showing up and ordering his usual coffee, and then asks them how their day has been

they BEAM at him, and gush about the tiniest things

he won't admit to himself that he loves seeing them so happy like that and that it makes his heart flutter a bit, instead telling himself the next time he stays that he's doing it "out of convenience" or some bs like that

eventually finds himself spending hours in the café just talking to his partner about random things, whether that is during their break or while the s/o is supposed to be working

the manager doesn't have the balls to tell him that they're supposed to be working bc fukuchi supplies like half the financial funds for the place 😍

he might start to be showing up late to hunting dogs' meetings for the next while, but spending the time with his partner has been shown to be more than worth.

tachihara michizou

It's very likely that the café is the place he met his partner, or at least has some kind of emotional value to him

either it's where they first asked him out (bc there's no way he'd make the first move) or maybe he was caught in the rain and his future partner, walking out of the café while holding an umbrella, offered it to him with a bright smile

for this reason, he likes to meet them here as much as possible

HOWEVER, there's an issue with dating tachihara, a big one at that

mid-way through the relationship, he had to go undercover and work for the mafia

since his partner had met him and knew only of his work as being "dangerous" and "top-secret", they understood a bit when he said that he had to go on a business trip of sorts and things would get complicated

tachihara lowkey went into a full-on breakdown bc he had never been loved like that before and felt sick at the idea of leaving, but his partner assured him that they'll be waiting for the day he comes back, and held him in their arms for the entire night, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear and gently kissing his forehead

eventually, he did have to leave. in the beginning, he teared up every night while in the port mafia thinking of his love

so, once he got the mafia's trust and moved along in the ranks, he got more freedom to move around and stuff. eventually, he got so heartsick he found himself subconsciously wandering right in front of the café out of habit

before he could snap out of his trance and get tf out of there, his partner noticed him and pulled him into the tightest hug in existence while sobbing their heart out

tachihara couldn't imagine the pain of saying goodbye for good again

so, he made it a rule to come and visit them on his shifts as often as possible, discreetly for their safety

they a b a n d o n their job and run over to hug him every single time he appears bc they never know if it'll be the last time they'll see him

the manager doesn't really follow the story, but tachihara's partner is one of the harder workers in the café, and the café itself isn't that popular anyways, so there's no point in yelling at them

tachihara isn't picky about what food he eats or what drinks he sips, so long as he gets to hear his partner's voice and be near them (I strongly hc that he has attachment issues)

he orders hot chocolate, even in the summer, and still hasn't shaken off that child-like tendency of chugging it down aggressively and ending up with a chocolate milk mustache, which his partner teases him about every single time

one time, he wasn't vigilant enough and gin - who was supposed to deliver a message from the boss about one thing or another - followed tachihara all the way to the café

saw tachihara kissing some stranger 👩‍🦯👩‍🦯👩‍🦯

she walked up to him, and his eyes went WIDE. his partner didn't recognize gin for obvious reasons, and thus got embarrassed, climbed off of tachihara and stood back at the counter, and asked her what her order was, since technically the shop was still operating

gin was confused af

she creased her brows at them, shook her head then turned towards tachihara

oh boy tachihara is screwed

at first, his partner thought he'd been cheating on them or something, then thought about it twice and realized that he wasn't the type to cheat on people. so they (not-so-)gently shoved gin out of the way and told tachihara that they "needed a smoke", a codeword for "outside. now. we need to talk"

he told gin that he'd received the message, and to tell the boss that he'll deal with it tomorrow, and then the mafiosa went on her way. 

his s/o demanded an explanation as to who tf that was, and tachihara reluctantly explained that it was someone he worked with

his partner isn't an idiot, they knew that his work was dangerous and that "someone he worked with" would be equally so, and thus they realized by the way he was perspirating with cold sweat and seemed pretty shocked that the girl had shown up

eventually, things were sorted out and no harm was done. tachihara made gin swear she wouldn't tell anyone about his dating situation, and like the frikkin amazing person she is, she agreed.

even though he slipped up that time, he couldn't stop himself from heading back to the café and meeting up with his partner as often as possible

in the end, the risk was clearly worth it

[smaller-comfort]

wip wsunday, 2 modern au fragments and a bit of devotional. I *want* to post bits of my sanguinalia thing but I caaaan't. >:xxxxxx

------

can't stop, won't stop (modern au, aephorul/resh'an, college/post-grad years; call it the sequel to gotta start somewhere. probably counts as a kinktober thing; the boys go toy shopping.)

Devotional isn't the silliest thing in my wips. it's this. this gets absurd. there are costumes involved. it starts off fairly innocuously, though.

--

"Let me buy you something fun for my birthday." Aephorul sat down on the couch beside Resh'an and set his laptop on the coffee table.

Resh'an squinted at him. "That's not how birthday gifts work. And I know I'm bad with dates, but I'm pretty sure your birthday isn't for another three months." He frowned. "...it's not, right?"

"It was yesterday," he said gravely. "You didn't even wish me happy birthday. I was completely devastated. Absolutely bereft. Abandoned by my boyfriend-"

"You are such an asshole." Resh'an elbowed him sharply.

Aephorul managed to keep a straight face for half a second longer, and then lost it. "Your face! Oh my god-" He tried to fend off Resh'an's elbow again, but Resh'an nailed him in the solar plexus. "Oof- fuck- ow- this is abuse- motherfucker-"

He wasn't really sure what it said about either of them that this kind of thing ended up being foreplay at least 75% of the time. Not that he was complaining- well, maybe he was complaining a little. Resh'an fought dirty and his elbows were sharp.

--------

staycation: monday (modern au, aephorul/resh'an petplay)

this one is also very silly. most of the modern au is in aephorul's pov, so it's an interesting exercise to write resh'an's viewpoint, particularly when aephorul is being submissive.

I feel like I'm missing the point of petplay with this entirely, but I'm having fun with it.

--

"Sure you don't want a spoonful of peanut butter?" he asked while he loaded the dishwasher. "Because I kind of do. Maybe some fruit? The grapes are still good."

"Grapes," Aephorul said icily, "are poisonous to dogs."

"You're so obnoxious." Resh'an smiled fondly. "It's almost like you want to be muzzled."

Aephorul stared down at the floor and didn't say anything. He was trying to hide behind his hair, to disguise the fact that he was blushing hard enough for it to visibly darken his cheeks. Aephorul was teetering on the edge, and it wasn't going to take much of a push to put him all the way under.

But Resh'an wasn't going to push; he didn't need to. Aephorul would get there just fine, all on his own.

------

devotional ch 4 (barma'thazel/elysan'darelle)

why yes, this story has snowballed out of control, why do you ask? this chapter is probably just going to devolve into some good old fashioned monster fucking. who knows, though, maybe somebody will get pegged.

aephorul sends barma'thazel a gift basket after chapter 2.

--

"This is the problem," she hissed. "You're a general, not some common prostitute."

"I am our Master's servant," he corrected. He ate one of the chocolates; they'd been enchanted to survive the ambient heat of this place, but it melted into velvety richness on his tongue. He closed his eyes and ate another one; it was as decadently delicious as the first, and it had some sort of crunchy center. Amazing.

"You really should try one of these." He held out the box. "It might put you in a better mood."

She looked almost like she wanted to fling them back in his face. "This- it's demeaning. You deserve- mmf!"

He popped one of the chocolates into her open mouth and tilted her chin up, forcing her lips closed. For all her skills with sorcery, Barma'thazël still moved faster than she could react.

Elysan'darelle's eyes widened with fury, and then scrunched shut as the taste of the chocolate hit her. Her hands flew to her mouth, but not before her tiny moan of pleasure escaped. When she opened her eyes again, she shoved Barma'thazel away from her and stamped a hoof in frustration.

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie ⁓

I swear to god i'm dreaming about the future plot lately, and I chukle in my sleep since it's so funny dealing with (stalking) the Task Force even if i shouldn't laugh about the things i'm thinking about and i'm so happy to see you've got the same problem as me.

Send hugs to wherever you are ⁓

DISCLAIMERS: clean from smut, but a lot of ignoring feelings and responsabilities; GhostxReader and his will to pretend she doesn't exist (spoiler, he fails); how-to-not-doing-a-mission-safely; a sprinkle of paternal chat; Task Force being misterious about their Lt.; ghosts scared of gnomes.

..................................................

Third part here:

..................................................

You don't know how you've managed to come back safely to your room.

What you do know is that, since yesterday, your Lt is nowhere to be found.

Oh, and you've finally got menstruations. Soap is the first one who gets aware of this, welcoming you at the breakfast table with the sweetest:

«Ye're finally bleeding, aren't ye?»

Gaz throws him a bunch of towels before Price manages to save the few left, hiding them under his plate.

You sit next to Johnny. It is so rare to have the Captain at breakfast, and it is even…suspicious. You swallow your oatmeal silently, gazing at Price till he murmurs: «What is it?» that smells like coffee and late night work.

«Mmmnothin'» 

He sighs, finally raising his sight at you.

«Spit it out. What's wrong?» 

«Mmmh…»

He sips his black coffee while exchanging a sight war with you, who're looking at him through the spoonful of chocolate oatmeal, eyes sharpened as a knife. Price leans toward you, willing to win the challenge, when Gaz suddenly asks:

«Have someone seen the Lt? I need to give him a-»

«Speaking of him-» you suddenly burst, breaking the eye contact with Price just to make him sighs for the second times in five minutes. He raises an hand toward your face.

«If you're seeking revenge for your injury-»

«I'm not» you reply almost immediately. «Even if he was a dick»

Price scolds you immediately with a threatening: «language, rookie»

You scroll your shoulders, knowing well you can push yourself so far just 'cause they don't really care about discipline towards each other. At least not at breakfast. 

«He's disappeared. So: either he really is a ghost, and he vanished; or he's hiding from me»

Gaz was about to make a joke on your words, but he suddenly stops, with his fork still stuck on the omelet.

«…what? Why from you?»

«Ye'r not that scary»

«I bet i am»

«Hold on, hold on» 

Price makes his way through the speech, raising his hands to gain silence. Then he looks at you like he's watching a child trying to convince an ice cream he's not about to eat it.

«So that's what it's going on» and murmurs to himself: «that bloody liar…»

You gasp in surprise, just to make some drama, and Johnny follows your move like a Victorian damoiselle. You slam your hands on the table before Price could speak again, or try to run away from his own words, and you suddenly remember about your elbow. Painful moans are choked in your guts as you spit out a too loud:

«Explain»

And Price answer with an abrupt:

«No»

And Johnny puts out his best puppy eyes, leaning on the table toward his Captain:

«Please! We need to know!»

«We?» John looks at him like he's surrounded by chatty widows. «Why in the bloody hell would you like to know somethin' you're not even involved in?»

«At this point 's a matter of principle»

«A what?»

«We're a team, secrets can't tear us apart»

«That's not a secret»

«Than speak»

«Is it about the fact that Ghost is either tryna kill or getting acquainted with her?»

Three pairs of eyes suddenly glare toward Gaz, who once again freezes with his fork balanced toward his mouth. He smiles nervously.

«…am I allowed to feel in danger?»

Johnny answer with a too sudden: «yes»

Price takes out a cigar with nonchalance, pointing it at Garryk « So you've noticed. At least one brain in my team is not totally burnt»

«Waitwaitwait» you bring back to you the attention, raising an hand to take the floor. «Is he really scared of me? That's why I haven't seen him around in 24 hours?»

«He told me he needed to figure something out 'cause of a problem you've made». Price gives you a look. «I've thought of talking to you about it, but… I'm not blind, rookie. And now that you've speak about him fearing you…i kinda understand what it's passing through his mind»

Gaz nods in agreement. Johnny takes his time to think about it, and after ten seconds of the other two staring at him he eventually realizes something.

Something that you're not getting.

Your eyes jump on their faces with the urge of the only gamer in the team who doesn't know how to cheat. Your fingers dig deeper in the cuticles as you see the three men stand up and make their way out of the dining hall.

«Hey! You can't leave with the secret all to yourself!»

«Sorry kid»

Price pat your head before waving at you, leaving you with what's left of your oatmeal and a few, terse words:

«If he'll feels like it, he'll tell you»

He stops. He suddenly turns serious.

«Do you think you're ready to show us how reliable you are?»

You falter, mumbling: «…yeah…?»

«Good. I've got a work for you, rookie»

Documents are on his desk. Not just any pile of paper: the pile of paper, the intel they were waiting for, the information they've searched for for almost three months.

Ghost is reading the sheets again and again. Yeah, there's no doubt: it's what they've needed, and it is there, on his desk, spawned out of nowhere when he was away for a…mission. Let's call it a mission.

He should be pleased. Happy to say the least, since this kinda intel's like food from heaven for the task force.

But he's…kinda lost in his thoughts. Almost annoyed. 

«Who in the bloody hell…» he murmurs as he takes a look at the sheets, not even realizing that someone else has entered the room. 

«your fav rookie» 

Price's voice makes him fall from his thought's tree. Ghost glares at him through the mask, inspecting his Cap who's clinging on the door frame with a lot of nonchalance, arms crossed and an amused smile on his face. 

«…ya'r not meaning-»

«I am»

«Mh»

«surprised? She did an hell of a job, in a good way» he comes in, shutting the door. «She's a good one»

«yeah…»

«That's all you've got?»

Ghost almost stops to breath; his gaze at Price's like laser beam, and he has to collect enough air to blow out a stern:

«Do ya need something else? 'Ve got work to do»

And Price waste no time to smile back a:

«Old demons eat your tongue?»

To what Ghost' s answer's a growl: «mh»

Price shakes his shoulders, approaching the door to go out. «Just an impression of mine»

Ghost's voice stops him at the door knob: 

«Ya'r wrong»

«Mmm, yeah? About what?»

«Stop thinking about it, i know you are»

«Tell me what to think then»

«She's not like that»

«Oh, so there is a "she" in your brain»

«Don't read into it»

«You know what's fun?» the Captain comes back, taking a seat in front of Ghost, pointing at him with his judgmental finger «You're dealing with her like she's blackmailing you, or something. Nervous smiles, stupid revenges…»

«Bullshits»

«'S that so? And how do ya call the little problem during training session?»

«A problem. That's all»

«Ghost-»

«No»

He stands, turning his back at the Captain. And that, for him, was the end of the chat. 

But not for Price.

«Is not a shame falling for someone»

And the Lt. gives him the coldest glare, jerking his sight at his Cap.

«I'm not» he spit with a harsh voice.

Price doesn't move. He checks his pocket, taking his first cigar of the day just to put it through his lips and chewing the tip lightly, eyes glued to Ghost's. The Cap. nods.

«Good to know» he murmurs. 

That was the end of the story. Or at least Ghost has hoped so.

Three days later, he can't help but walk through the base with his eyes fixed on every rookie who stands in his way. He had searched the dining room every morning, checked the training field, the goddamn gym in the evening, even waited for a few minutes every time he passed by her room.

Nothing.

None.

No sign of aggressive gnomes around. 

Ghost sips his black coffee in complete silence, glaring at everyone for no apparent reason. He needed to end that odd feeling, those annoying jumps of adrenaline, the bad sensation that something hostile was growing within his stern, cold behavior, breaking it from the inside, scratching away the metal wrap he had built to better control every inch of himself.

And he needed to have her in front of him, speaking out loud the reasons why she was eating his insides like a virus, and asking her, gently or not, to try her best and pretend the two of them do not know each other. 

Feeling things for others, either bad or good…it wasn't for him. 

«Bloody little idiot…»

«Hope ye'r not talking 'bout me»

Ghost's gaze raises as Johnny joins his solitary coffee-sipping ritual. He put his mug on the table, spreading around chocolate aroma.

The Lt. recognizes it immediately: «That's her goddamn pudding»

«I'm addicted»

Breakfast brings back silent eating and mumbling on caffeine. Soap devours his oatmeal, waiting. 

'Cause he knows he just has to wait.

It takes Ghost just one minute and a half to burst out a pretended unselfish:

«Maybe she has eaten that much chocolate that she's become one bar»

«Mh?»

«She's nowhere to be found in person, it seems»

«Are ye searching for her?»

«'Cause of the intel she'd collected» he rushes a justification that Soap doesn't really buy. Johnny almost absorbs his last spoonful, chewing out words mixed with chocolate:

«Price's sent her on a mission. Confidential» he adds. «Dunno 'bout details»

Oh.

That was unexpected; so unexpected that Ghost bites his tongue after rushing out a too fast:

«When?»

The spoon falls in the mug with a metal tingle; Soap's side eyes reach Ghost.

«…are ye worried?»

«No» he bursts. 

«Well, we are. Me and Gaz»

That doesn't sound like a lie, and Simon has to lower his shield made of pretending-not-to-think-about-her stuff. Soap keeps on, his eyes wandering around the crowded room:

«Maybe Price's overestimated her skills, dunno…or maybe she's just not ready. 'S strange not having news after three days»

«You two do like her»

Soap sighs, shaking away from his shoulders the morning stiffness.

«She's a good one. She's fun. But she's not so skilled on the field»

«You don't get worried about every rookie's first time. Sooner or later they'll have to be kicked out of the nest»

«If the one that's been kicked out 's ma fav sparrow chick, at least i hope that it'll fall on something soft»

«She's no chick, and not my fav» he rushes again, eagerly to end the conversation and get the fuck out of there. He stands, with a chuckling Soap next to him, who knows his Lt. too well and knows he just has to wait a little more, to give him time to elaborate his thoughts in a more sensible way.

Ghost's first impulse is always imposing himself as a threatening and leading figure. It's an habit. 

But this time he doesn't have time to retry his answer.

A worried Gaz appears in the dining room, rushing toward them in some sort of urgency. 

«You two» he breathes out, clinging on the table while regaining some air in his lungs «Do you want the good news, or the it-could-be-better news?»

«Were ye runnin' a bloody marathon at the fucking six in the morning?» 

«Good new» Ghost answer, still holding his empty coffee mug. «Always good news first»

Gaz gazes at them, elaborating his words as best as he could: «…do ya remember the no-one's-going-to-do-that-mission topic in our last meeting?»

«That sort of suicidal duty 'bout sneaking alone in a mafia boss dirty party?»

Gaz nods. «That one»

«With none to cover your arse?»

«Yeah»

«That one Laswell was tryna to figure out so bad 'cause the goddamn boss had valuable infos 'bout big weapons traffic?»

«Aha»

«But none was that stupid to try it?»

«Soap». Ghost stops his Sergeant's stream of thoughts with a glare through the balaclava. «Cut it. What's the bloody good news 'bout it Garryk?»

«Mission's been accomplished» he spits, with neither a smile nor optimism, and a strange, worried look. Soap's eyes get wider.

«Are ye fucking kidding? Who's the idiot who tried it in the first place?»

Gaz sighs.

«'S our idiot»

It takes a bunch of seconds to link the description with a face, but your silly little smile rushes through their brain almost immediately. Soap stands up so fast the chair almost falls.

«WHAT-»

«The other news » Ghost's harsh voice talks over him, with a hint of hurriness, an almost audible tip of concern that he swallows.

And Gaz wastes no time:

«Now she can drain pasta with her arm»

..................................................

[clintbartonswife]

i achoo you

Pairings: Peter Parker x Wade Wilson Summary: Peter is sick and Wade is smitten. Whumptober prompt #26 : working to exhaustion / 'you look awful' Notes: i love this pairing so much ill cry. (also, peter is mid 20s) masterlist   || whumptober2023

"I'm totally 100% definitely dying."

Peter stretched out on the couch, sniffling woefully. His phone was pressed against his left cheek, sticky with sweat.

"Is it that even possible?"

"Yes. Yes it is. And I've got two college essays due in this wee-ee- ACHOO"

Matt let out a laugh, "You know spiders cant actually sneeze?"

"Lucky for the-em- ACHOO"

"This is pathetic, even for you."

"Wow, thanks Red. This is the last time I ever call you for advice."

"Yet you'll call me next week over a stubbed toe no doubt."

Peter could practically hear the eye roll in his voice, frowning as shivers once again decided to wrack his body.

"I dont have any other semi-responsible friends that I can talk to, and I - I dont want to bother May -"

"Dont make me feel sorry for you, or I'll really regret sending the backup."

Peter groaned, "Oh god, who?"

"Blasphemy - and he should be arriving any time now. Foggy's just arriving at the office so I've got to go. Drink lots of water, okay?"

Matt hung up before he could answer, a knock at the door occurring seconds later.

"It's op-ehh-eehhh-ACHOO"

"Say it, don't spray it baby boy!"

Peter groaned again, louder this time, and threw his arm across his eyes. "Why you?"

"That's not a nice way to greet someone bringing you soup!"

Peter made a pathetic noise, halfway between a sniffle and a cough, moving his arm so he could sneak a peek at the merc as he made himself at home in the kitchen.

"That's a pathetic excuse for an apology, but I'm willing to accept it due to your pretty face." Wade was humming quietly to himself as he rummaged around in the cupboard, taking out a bowl with flair and transferring the soup in to it in one smooth motion.

"That wa-aa-as -" Peter paused a moment, waiting to see if the sneeze was about to escape him, continuing as the urge dissipated, "was the most elegant thing I've ever seen you do."

"I dont fuck around with my food," He replied, walking towards the couch, "Unless it's in a sexy-I'm-going-to-lick-chocolate-off-your-body-way, which I'm totally down for any time."

"Charming." Peter rolled his eyes, fighting against his tired muscles and moving into an uneasy sitting position.

"Always for you, baby b- wow. Petey pie, you look awful."

Peter let out a hoarse laugh, accepting the soup with a sarcastic smile.

"Not holding back, huh?"

Wade collapsed backwards on to the ratty futon opposite the couch, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. After wiggling in to a comfortable position, he lifted his mask to just under his nose and popped a bright pink unicorn lollipop into his mouth. "So, how did the amazing spider-man come down with the common cold? I thought you were immune to shit like that."

Peter shrugged, gulping down the soup.

Wade looked around the room for a few moments, sucking loudly on the lollipop. "How about this for a theory: you worked your pretty little butt off, on your daily patrols, part time job and now... college?"

Peter paused his eating for a moment, "Bio-chem."

"Smart and sexy, the whole package!"

"How you find me sexy right now, I have no idea."

Wade slurped extra loudly on the lollipop, looking Peter up and down. "Those hello kitty pyjama pants look good on you. Plus I can't get sick."

"Is that so?"

"Scientifically proven, baby boy. My skins so fucked up because my cells are dying and reproducing every second. Ergo, can't get sick."

"That... proven how, exactly?"

"Trial and error." At Peter's questioning look, he smirked, "There's only so many times you can regrow the majority of your body and not realise that something's funky."

"Funky is one word fo-oor-ACHOOO."

Wade jumped up from his seat, running to his bag and pulling out a disney themed box of tissues. "I came prepared!"

"Princesses? Really?"

"Yes, and look there you are!" He replied, pointing at Cinderella.

"Okay... I'm going to need an explanation."

"She's broke, you're broke. Twins!"

Peter rolled his eyes, though accepted the tissues. Wade laughed, "I guess you're just lucky that I'm here, your knight in shining armour, offering to be your sugar daddy."

"Oh god - don't phrase it like that. I've been getting by on my own just fine, tha-ahhh-ahhh-"

"Bless you."

Peter glared at him. "You jinxed me."

Wade pouted, "Want me to kiss it better?"

At this, Peter threw the tissue box, successfully hitting him in between the eyes.

"Ow!"

Peter grumbled something under his breath, placing the empty soup bowl on the table and burying himself once more into the couch.

"I take back the Cinderella comparison. You're much more like Grumpy Peg-Leg Pete."

Wade laughed at the offended noise emanating from the sofa, finishing his lollipop with a satisfied sigh and jumping up from his seat. "Well, if my assistance is no longer needed..."

"Wait."

Wade grinned, holding his hand up to his ear mockingly, "Sorry what was that? I didn't quite hear you."

Peter huffed, sticking his head fully out of his blankets, enunciating his words clearly. "Don't leave... please."

Wade's grin widened, throwing himself on to the end of the couch, grabbing Peter's feet and placing them on his lap. "I knew you needed me Petey Pie."

"How did you know," the boy replied, sarcasm strong in his tone, "I want you, I need you, oh baby, baby."

The merc's smile didn't drop, relaxing into the chair as he began massaging one of the spider's feet. "Jokes on you, your sarcasm just turns me on more."

"You're insatiable."

"For you? Yes. I'm all the big words. Unquenchable, titillated, concupiscent." He gave a look off to the side, "Thanks for the tutoring Prodigy."

"You -" Peter tried to see what he was looking at, writing it off as one of Deadpool's quirks, "whatever. You missed a word though: persistent."

"How else am I going to get you to admit your deep and passionate love for me?"

Peter rolled his eyes, though didn't offer a rebuttal, instead allowing himself to melt into the pillows as Wade's fingers methodically worked out all the tension in his feet. He let out a sigh, arm thrown over his eyes once again as he willed for the grogginess to leave.

"What's troubling you, baby boy?"

"College essay is due in three days and I still haven't started it."

"Oh?"

"'S all about chemical bonding agents and I - aaaACHOO -" He paused, using his webs to grab the tissue box from across the room and blowing his nose with a pathetic lack of energy before continuing. "I just think that if I think too long about one thing I might die."

"And you can't get an extension?"

"No."

"What about if Bea and Arthur ask?"

"You're not going to threaten my professor with your katanas."

Wade sighed dramatically, but let the issue drop. Now bored, he began to tap out the tune of Grace Kelly on Peter's legs, humming quietly under his breath.

In that moment, the weird domesticity of the scene hit the student, peaking out from under his arm to watch Wade. It felt comfortable, safe in a way that he hadn't felt since developing his powers. He felt cared for. Loved.

Eyes flaring slightly, he pushed that thought away.

"Thank you, 'Pool."

"Hm?"

"Thank you. For coming to look after me."

"Anything to spend time with you and your tight little ass, Petey!"

He snorted, rolling his eyes fondly at the intentional lewdness, gently kicking his chest with his foot. "I mean it."

Wade pressed both hands to his cheeks, shoulders raising as he let out a squeal. "Oh em gee, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"This is what I get for trying to be serious -"

To Peter's surprise, Wade paused for a moment. When he next spoke, it was with a certain genuineness that he rarely heard from the merc. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. There's nothing to thank."

Breath caught in his chest, Peter allowed himself to sit up, looking at Wade with new eyes. Without even realising it, his hands had moved to lie on the edges of the mask, waiting for an answer.

"Webs -"

He could feel Wade's breath brush along his palms, finally removing the mask as the merc let out a hesitant nod.

Wade's eyes were blue, deep and endlessly curious.

Mask laid to the side, Peter's eyes rushed to drink in every detail of the man's face, fingers moving across the textured surface with barely restrained admiration.

"I think you're my favourite person."

The confession escaped him, surprising even him with the certainty behind the words.

Wade's eyes sparkle when they smile.

"You're going to make me blush, baby boy."

His eyes flickered to his lips.

"Did you mean what you said... about not caring that I'm sick?"

Wade's eyes widened, wordlessly nodding.

"Good."

Their lips clashed together with unbridled passion, Peter pushing away any doubt he held on to and clinging on to Wade's deceptively strong arms for balance.

The merc met him eagerly, gleeful as he buried his hands into the boy's hair, gripping just hard enough to send a shiver down Peter's spine. At his reaction, Wade smiled, nipping at his lower lip in order to pull another delicious response from him.

The spider had to pull away first, cheeks blazing and chest heaving.

Wade moved one hand down from his hair to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the smooth skin as his eyes searched for any sign of regret. "Webs..."

"I think - I think I lo-oo-ACHOO." He quickly turned away, sneezing into his shoulder.

Wade roared with laughter, offering a tissue as Peter's blush deepened.

"I achoo you too."

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

The Lark's Nest | Sawdust

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: chronic pain, implied/referenced torture

Pairings: roloceit

Word Count: 3256

The first storm. The worst storm.

The first storm:

Roman opens the door, smiling when he sees Logan in the hallway. He leans against the door frame, head tilted to the side as Logan clutches the bag strap slung over his shoulder, suddenly feeling terribly under dressed despite Roman being in nothing more than worn fatigues, barefoot, and the contrast between the fearsome point man he typically sees all suited and booted is enough to make him regret coming here, perhaps this was a mistake—

"Lark," comes Roman's gentle voice with no small amount of amusement, "come in, would you?"

He steps through the door as Roman closes it behind him. The hand on his shoulder doesn't startle him, but judging by Roman's immediate flash of concern it doesn't comfort him either. He forces himself to take a deep breath, letting the bag slide free. Roman holds out his hand and he gives it. It's not a large bag, after all, only enough to hold a change of clothes and basic toiletries, it isn't as though he's moving in here—

"Sit," Roman says, giving him a gentle nudge, "please. Would you like something to drink?"

"What do you have?"

"Tea? Coffee? Juice?" He tosses a wink over his shoulder as he moves toward the small kitchenette. "Hot chocolate?"

Logan flushes as he sits on the couch. "Wha—who told you about that?"

Roman pauses, halfway out of the fridge. "Told me about what?"

The flush deepens. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Oh, come on, now you're just teasing me." He leans over the back of the couch, face far too close to Logan's with that crooked smile. "You can't just give me the tip of the iceberg for a story like that and not expect me to go digging for the rest of it."

"I—uh—plead the fifth?"

Roman chuckles. "As if we'd ever let you be a witness if any case ever made it to trial."

It shouldn't make him flinch. It shouldn't, and yet it does, and Roman spots it, because of course he would see it, and then there's a hand tangling gently in his hair.

"Shh, don't fret, songbird." He cards his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm the one being mean right now, I know."

"Sorry."

"Now, what on earth do you have to be sorry for? Ah, no, that's my fault again," Roman says when he goes to open his mouth. "Let me rephrase: you have nothing to be sorry for. All you need to do is tell me what you want to drink."

"…can I have some hot chocolate, please?"

"Lark, you could ask for just about anything like that and I'd find a way to give it to you." Before Logan can figure out just what that entails, Roman lets him go, returning with two mugs of hot chocolate, one with significantly more whipped cream than the other. "Here you are, drink slow. It's still warm."

Logan takes a sip—yes, it is certainly still warm, and definitely not as alcohol-free as he'd expected. Roman sends him a wink over the rim of the mug, pausing when Logan's face falls.

"No good?"

"C-can—never mind."

"Ask, lark."

"…would it be possible to have a non-spiked version?"

"Of course. Forgive me, I should've asked first. I'll leave this one for Janus." He takes it from Logan's hands, quickly replacing it with a non-spiked mug as he sticks the other in the microwave. "You needn't answer this question if it's too personal, but why don't you drink?"

Logan shuffles a little on the couch, tracing the edge of the snowflake pattern with his finger. "It wasn't allowed by some of my previous employers. Never developed the taste for it."

"Well, you can drink if you like here—God knows some of us need it to get through the worst nights." He nudges Logan's leg with his own. "Though I suppose Patton never gets tired of having someone willing to try his new mocktails."

"They're good!"

"I'm sure they are." He chuckles again when Logan narrows his eyes, reaching out to lightly punch his shoulder. "Don't look at me like that, lark."

It's…strange. The warmth of the hot chocolate begins to dispel the worst of the cold ache in his gut, even as the pain across the backs of his shoulders slowly begins to spread. As their conversation continues, he finds himself leaning further and further forward, hiding winces behind sips of drink. He would be a fool to expect Roman not to notice, but at the very least, the man doesn't comment on it. At least not until there's a pause and the first roll of thunder echoes distantly over their heads.

"Are you doing alright?" Roman sits up a little, reaching for him as his head jerks towards the ceiling. "No harm will come to you while you're here, you must know that."

"I know. Just—habit, mostly."

Roman nods. Logan glances at him, steeling himself, something he clearly picks up on as he sobers, setting his mug on the coffee table.

"Can I—would it be alright if I—" he puts his mug down too and shuffles along the couch.

"Of course you can." Roman leans back, holding out his arms. "Come have a cuddle, lark, you look tired."

Gratefully, Logan shifts forward enough to ease his weight over Roman's chest, only for Roman to chuckle and pull him the rest of the way down. He lets out a slightly undignified yelp as Roman's arms come up to wrap around him.

"You're not that heavy, songbird, you can rest on me. Shh, shh," he murmurs as they adjust, "that's it…just do what makes you feel comfortable."

"Are you sure this is alright?"

"Perfectly. Am I hurting you at all?"

"N-no, this is fine."

"I think we can do better than fine," Roman sniffs, before softening his voice once more, "tell me what to do, lark."

With a red face—that Roman can certainly feel—Logan directs him to shift his grip, move his leg, let him slot further underneath his chin until Roman's arms close over him in just the right way and an embarrassing noise slips from his throat.

"There," Roman chuckles, his voice even deeper with Logan's ear pressed to his chest, "that's better isn't it?"

"Mm."

"Close your eyes, then, songbird, I can feel how hard you're trying to keep yourself awake."

And so he does, dozing and drifting there on the couch until there's the click of a doorknob and the sound of Janus's surprised laugh.

"I see you've beat me home, lark."

"There's hot chocolate in the microwave for you if you want it."

Janus hums, walking over and crouching by Logan's head, smiling. "Hi, sweetie."

"Hi."

"Has Roman been terribly mean to you?"

Roman scoffs as Logan shakes his head. "Terribly mean, he says—as though I'm not performing exceptionally at being a human pillow."

"Well, in that case, I'm going to go wash up." He ruffles Logan's hair. "Try not to fall asleep until I get back, alright?"

"Shame on you," Roman scolds without any real heat, "it's a crime to ask the poor lark to stay awake a moment longer than necessary."

"Don't think I haven't caught on to your clever little plan here, Roman."

"I would never."

Janus rolls his eyes fondly as he stands and moves to an adjoining room. Logan follows his path with drowsy eyes, frowning. "What did he mean?"

"Oh, we've been squabbling over who gets the honor of being your personal pillow for the night once we learned there was a storm coming."

"But you didn't know I'd come."

"Know? No, we didn't. But we certainly did hope. Now hush, songbird, you were dozing off a moment ago."

"Janus said not to fall asleep."

"Janus isn't the one in pain," Roman corrects ever so softly, "he doesn't get to be in charge of that."

Still, Logan does manage to stay awake until Janus re-emerges, hair still slightly damp as he prods Roman's shoulder. "Your turn. Best wash the day off before Logan has to smell it all over you."

Roman pouts as Logan sits up, only for it to fade as soon as Logan hisses in discomfort. "Are you alright? Do you need painkillers of any sort?"

Logan shakes his head. "Those…those can make things worse."

"How so?"

"The body compensates for the missing sensation," Janus says quietly, gesturing to the burn on the side of his face when Logan looks up at him in surprise. "Go on, Roman."

Roman gets up without further protest, letting Janus take his spot. It's no less of a surreal thing to see the second in command smile softly at him, holding out his arms and bidding him to lie down for a cuddle. Unlike Roman, whose arms stayed still as soon as they figured out where best they would be, Janus traces lightly over his back and sides, counterbalancing the pain with sensation just soft enough to tickle. Logan slips easily back into a daze as the water runs in the next room.

"If I fall asleep," he mumbles, "will you wake me up to say goodnight to Roman?"

"Of course, sweetie."

"…did you really fight over who got to sleep with me?"

His movement pauses for a moment before his hand cups the back of his head. "Logan, I will say this as many times as you need to hear it, as will Roman, as will anyone else whom you ask: you are beloved here. We would all fight for the honor of caring for you, so long as you make the final choices yourself. You have been hurt, mistreated, abused under the cruel hands of others. No more. Not here. Not with us."

"O-oh."

And to his horror, his throat grows thick.

"Oh, sweetie," Janus murmurs, "it's alright. It's alright, you're safe, I swear it. Shh, shh, it's alright, hold onto me—yes, that's it."

"Shame on you," comes Roman's voice again, only partially teasing this time, "you've made our little lark cry."

He drops to his knees next to the couch, one hand overlapping Janus's as he cups his cheek. Logan reaches out and he quickly takes his hand, squeezing tightly.

"What's the matter, what's he done to you?"

"N-nothing, nothing, I swear, nothing—"

"Don't work him up," Janus scolds, "the poor thing's just crashing, that's all."

"Oh, lark…" Roman brings his hand to his lips, brushing kisses over his knuckles, "it's alright. You're safe here, I promise. No storm can reach you down here, not while we're around."

"P-promise?"

"I promise, lark."

"I promise, sweetie."

And despite the tears still flowing down his face, Logan thinks he might be able to sleep tonight.

The worst storm:

The man had only gotten as far as hearing that the singer warmed the boss's bed before he was shoving his way across the room and demanding to know where they were.

Now he was storming down to the last dock on the wharf and scanning for the offending party.

"Big blue coat," the person had stammered, "you can't miss it!"

Sure enough, there it was, flapping obnoxiously in the breeze. He grits his teeth and storms over, temper as clouded as the sky. He rounds the corner and the other man barely has time to turn around before he throws a punch right for his jaw.

"Hey," shouts one of the other people, "what's your problem?"

"I have a problem with a prick who abuses his authority to bed his crew, yeah," he snarls as the man straightens slowly, "I have a problem."

"Not that it wasn't an effective way to get my attention," the other man says slowly, rubbing his jaw, "but I do have some reservations about being greeting with a punch to the face."

"But not about bedding subordinates, huh?"

"Let's…start this over. Do I get to know the identity of who just punched me in the face?" The man snarled but gave his name. "Right. And why am I being punched in the face?"

"For taking a crewmember as your bedwarmer," he snarls again, "and abusing that rank."

"And how have you come to this conclusion?"

"One of yours was bragging about it inside less than two minutes ago."

The other man hums, an infuriating smile coming to his face. "This all seems to be a misunderstanding. I can assure you there is an explanation what will omit any further need to punch me in the face."

"And what in the hell would that be?"

"I am not bedding a member of my crew," he says slowly, as though talking to an idiot, "and the nights that the man you speak of was referring to are under the orders of our doctors."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"

"You were quite happy to act on the words of a man you did not know personally, off of a conversation that you were not a part of, but yes, I can assure you that—"

He growls and lunges for the other man again only to have his arm caught in a surprisingly strong grip.

"Do not mistake my calm demeanor for weakness," says the other, grip unyielding, "you are not owed the personal details of my life, nor any other in my crew. I do not take your accusations and slights lightly. The reason I have not fought back is because I believe in understanding things first before I throw a punch."

He shoves him back with such force that he stumbles a little before he gets his feet under him.

"Now," and a hint of steel enters his voice, "if you insist upon such accusations, then this conversation is about to get far more dangerous for you."

"Dangerous?" He scoffs. "What, are you going to kill me?"

"Perhaps not," says the man who much be the second, "but you are awfully outmatched, my good sir, and I don't think even you're drunk enough to like those odds."

Indeed, the rest of the crew silently began to stand. He glances around and then back. The important crew member isn't here.

"And what if I want to take the one you bed with me?" His face twists with a cruel smile. "Or can he not walk at the moment?"

There it is.

Rage flares in the other man's eyes and he steps forward to—

"Stop!"

Something shoves him back hard and he stumbles, looking back up to see someone standing between the two of them, their hand out to stay the other man.

It's him.

"You're alright," he manages, "you're—you're alright."

"What are you doing? Why are you here? What—what happened?"

All words have left him at the site of his old crew member, standing here. "Someone…someone said you were warming his bed. That you were…that you were…"

"That's what this is about?" He makes a face. "It's only during storms, he sleeps on his back, that's all—and that doesn't make sense, why were you there? What—"

Sleeps on his back? Only during storms?

Oh.

Oh.

"…still?"

Something in that face hardens, and he feels something lodge in his throat. "Yes, sir. Still."

In the midst of wallowing in his own self-pity, he almost misses the way what was rage darkens into fury in the other man's face.

"It was you." His voice is dark and vengeful.

Around them, the rest of the crew understands, and at the sudden wave of anger he fights the urge to take a step back.

"You have some nerve," the man continues, eyes boring into him, "to act as though you have any right to decide what is and is not appropriate for a boss to do."

He steps forward.

"Let alone tell me that I do not know where to draw the line."

Thunder rolls in the distance.

Despite the wrath radiating off of him, the hand he places on his crew member's—his crew member's shoulder is nothing but tender.

"Go back inside, little songbird."

Songbird. He did learn to sing again.

"Come on," says another who must be the crew's medic, "we need plausible deniability."

"No."

"You don't want to be out here for this, lark," the second says, eyeing him as though he were a piece of meat, "it's not going to be pretty."

"No," he says again, turning so his back is to him—his back, his back that still hurts when the storm comes, there's a storm coming, it will hurt tonight— "it's not worth it. He is not worth it."

"He took your sleep," another crew member growls and oh, there is not a wavering heart in the whole crew, "he spilled your blood, he taught you fear and called it loyalty."

"He isn't worth it."

"He hurt you," the second says, "that makes it worth it."

The boss hasn't said anything. The songbird walks up to him, voice heavy.

"I still feel them," he says in a voice that strikes him in the chest, "in my body, every day, every time I see it, I will never be rid of them. They will always haunt me."

He takes another step.

"But if you do this, you will tie him to me forever. I will never be able to live with that," he whispers, "don't do that to me."

The boss looks at him. Something intimate and tender softens his eyes, and then hardens them once more as he looks back.

"Run."

The man who once commanded half of the city turns like a prey animal and flees.

When his footsteps have faded into nothingness, Logan lets out a shaking breath, his knees buckling, only for Janus and Roman to swoop in on either side, their arms around him.

"It's alright, lark, it's over, he's gone, you'll never see him again."

"Still think we should've killed him," Virgil grouses despite Patton's light cuff upside his head.

"You heard him," Remus says, even though he looks as murderous as ever, "Logan said no."

Roman still has his mouth to Logan's ear, murmuring soft comforts and soothing words. Janus glances at Mr. Sanders, silently asking if he should take care of it—Logan needn't know, of course, but Mr. Sanders shakes his head. Logan's word was law when it came to this matter, and the man would live.

Now, he might only live because he would instruct Remus to keep him alive, but he would live.

For now, though, he lets out a breath and steps forward, placing his hand on Logan's shoulder.

"Come back inside, lark," he says quietly, "I think we've all had enough excitement for one night."

The lark doesn't utter another word until safely ensconced in the club's inner sanctum, far away from the docks—he had only wanted to watch the sunset, how dare that man try and take that from him too—far away from anyone who could possibly wish him any harm. Roman and Remus are on watch, Janus promising to attend to anything that needs happen upstairs, Patton only a call away. And Logan looks at him with that soft and scared look and he cannot refuse his lark a single thing, not when he's so driven by fear.

"What do you need, songbird?"

"I don't know if I can sleep tonight," he confesses, eyes on his hands, "will you let me stay here with you?"

"Of course you can, lark. Come—you must be hungry."

Logan doesn't sleep that night, not well, but he wakes as safe as he could be and perhaps, perhaps that is enough.

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[h0n3y-b33z]

Happy birthday to the apple twins and I. As my gift for them, they get a story.

Enjoy.

508 years since is was born.

500 of those years I suffered. I was alone. No one had cared. Abused , alone, a folks story people would tell their children.

Why am I still here? Just to suffer? 

"Boss! Open up! We need to eat eventually!" Killer yells through the door to the office, banging his fist on the old wood. 

Damnit Kilz not again-

"boooossss plsssss! Murder isn't letting us eat until you do! Birthday rules or som-" Killer pauses, unfortunately remembering the day. It seems his memory is getting better atleast. Two years he wouldn't remember until Christmas. 

Killer giggles, tugging the handle to the locked door. "oh bossy~! It's ya birthday!” Killer coos, taking his favorite knife out, running his index finger along the edge.

​​​​​​"don't  remind me. Tell everyone I will be downstairs in a moment." The king informs him, rolling off his  bed (which is a fake bookshelf that converts into a bed.)

Nightmare yawns, the balls of his feet hitting the floor and sending a static feeling up his legs and his knees locking. Of course... Two tendrils go to massage his knees and femurs.

This is getting ridiculous... Nightmare mutters to himself, the feeling  in his legs dying down. This was the third time this week. After a few more minutes the pain  is bare able and he stands up and walks to the door. 

No need to change when you slept in your clothes.

In  the dining room the table was set with all of Nightmare's favorite foods and beverages. Wine, coffee, pie, pancakes, turkey dipped in the most mouth watering sauces and other savory things you would expect to see on Gyftmas. Not a birthday.

Killer groans, reaching out for the jerkey that was just out of reach. The result was Murder slapping his hand. "Damnit bunny just let me eaaaat!" Killer whines, his tears staining the vintage wooden table again. Killer was one of the few who had a seat just for him. Furthest from Nightmare where all the silver tear stains are.

"No kitty... We wait for mare mare." Horror says, brushing the fur on his jacket. He needs to look his Saturday best! Killer glares  at Horror, tempted to throw a knife at him. "aint talking  to you wolfki" He mutters, using the insult varient of the brute's nickname.

"c0uld y°u st0p." Error mutters, munching on a chocolate wrapper. 'To get all the chocolate goodness' he told Swap. Which was mostly true. Murder sits still, dissociating from the world.

"gods what do yo- oo wine." Nightmare brings everyone out of their brooding as he sits down at the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of vintage Italian wine and pouring a genorous amount into his birthday mug. 

"Th€ gh0$ts 4®€ back. B33n 4-4n0¥y1ng m3 n0n $t0p" Error complains. Flicking away another pesky floating ded rat. Error is surrounded by floating objects. Plastic knifes and forks, a spatula and a dirty whisk. Error is glitching out alot.

Nightmare looks at the whisk, eye socket narrowing. "you made cake..?" He questions, growling softly at the batter falling to the flour covered floor. "we maDE CAKE?" Killer pipes up, grinning from eye socket to eye socket.

"ye-yes... T-teeth and Enough made it." Horror murmers, picking up his fork and fiddling with a grape in the salad. Murder looks down, a larger shadow casted on his face. Killer shrugs, reaching for the jerkey. Murder slaps his wrist again. "that vegan s[..]t is in the oven." Murder informs, stopping the recently vegan Killer.

"oh." Killer stands up, grabs  his plate and dashes to the kitchen to get his beloved plant based jerkey. Nightmare groans, glaring at the most mentally sane of the grou. "you know I'm not a fan of cake, Murder."  Nightmare says, dishing a healthy amount of turkey onto his plate. Once he finished dishing, Horror and Murder started dishing. Killer returns with his jerkey, mouth watering black ooze.

"hey you started dishing without me!" Killer when's and darts to the table to dish his greens. Who know all it took was a vegan teacher to get the dumbass to eat his fruits and vegetables? Although now he won't eat meat and sh[iz] now...

Goddammit Colour... Why did yo give him access to the internet...?  Nightmare wonders, chewing on his delicious turkey wing. Horror speaks up "It was Aliza's Idea... She's coming over later to celebrate too." Horror informs him. Nightmare stares at him, disbelief and silent disdain on his face. "your daughter... Wishes to celebrate my birthday?" the king questions, gaining another nod from Horror. 

"Dream visit...ed. Brought food. I told him not to work on his birthday. Aliza heard." The brute further explains, mouth full of pie. ​​​​​​Nightmare rolls his eyelight. She shouldn't care. He tells himself. "y0u® g1rlfriend  l3ft 4 l​​​​​​l3t ter. ​​​​​​" Error says, handing a letter with a dusty snake symbol on it. It was the the stamp She made just for him.

She is his equal. His other half. Sure Nightmare is gayer than Icurus, but She is his. He is hers. He smiles softly, opening the envelope. Inside was a letter wishing him, her kraken, happy birthday. Even suggesting a date for the two of them and their little fetaherbaby.

Nightmare smiles, noting that he should write a reply letter later. Possibly arrange a flight to Greece to see his queen. He engulfs the letter in a burning flame of purples and blues. He continues to eat. The food is nice. Just how he likes it...

Maybe my birthday isn't a waste... 

.

.

.

"Oh great guardian! Happy birthday!" 

Again and again, those were the words he heard today. Seemingly a broken record. 

"Great guardian, we need your help!"

That was a sentence he heard almost everyday.

You would think that after the truce Dream would finally be left alone. But nooo. It was great guardian this and great guardian that. It was tiring. He's supposed to be retired!

Dream sighs, getting a snake named Fluffy down from a tree. Lil Fluffy the anaconda slithers into his body, hugging him. Dream knows it is a hug because Fluffy broke his bones once and felt guilty as hell. Dream climbs down, looking down at his recent friend, a 8 year old girl who wears brightly colored hand made punk clothing.

"thank you Lemon Boy!" she says, gently holding her arms out so that Fluffy can slither back to her. Emily is one of the few Dream would want to go out of his way to help. He likes helping her. "no problem little Rockstar! Run off to your parents now, I saw them by the toy  bikes." Dream informs, running his hand down Fluffy's scales.

Maybe I should get a snake... He thinks to himself. The companionship would be nice. Maybe he could get a black mumba! Those get to like 10 feet long, I could raise it from a babe!  Cold things are nice things. The creature would love Dream's body heat. It's naturally high. 

His phone pings. Then another ping. Likely the groupchat again. Wait didn't I mute that-? He thinks to himself, taking out his phone and opening his chats. It was Swap and Lust. His friends. Another ping came when Red and Edge messaged, then another from Cinnimon. All saying happy birthday. Dream smiles at the texts, replying with some difficulty.

The one day I forget my glasses... He sighs and puts his phone away, lazily moving his hand in a circular motion to open a gden glittery portal. He steps through and heads to the lounge, flopping onto the couch with a grunt. 

"Someone's had a bad day." Reaper says, sipping his coffee. Dream lifts his head from the couch, looking up at the bringer of Bad deaths. "no s[..]t Sherlock." He says, catching the hot water bottle thrown at him "f[..]k you Watson." Reaper shots back, stretching his 3 pairs of wings.

"Still wondering why you don't want a private birthday party kid." Reaper informs, putting his mug down and grabbing his scythe, his 6 wings merging into 2. Dream shrugs

Dream says, clutching the water bottle.

Reaper chuckles softly. "awe, my baby boy has grown up since I found him." Reaper coos, checking out the baalde to ensure it is fit for reaping. Although it was never on paper, Reaper adopted Dream after finding him in that abandoned AU the kid o me called home.

He looks up at the demi-godling. "want to come with me for work? My gift." Reaper says, summoning the toy scythe he made for Dream when the child guardian asked for one. Dream looks at the scythe and sighs, stnwifng up with a smile. The scythe was nothing to be scared of, made of dead pyrike (frozen wood) and is smaller than Reaper's, but it means the multiverse to Dream "sure."

Atleast Dream can help people cross over to the underworld instead of silly little things he doesn't like. 

(done. I the colors of their speech thingies represent the soul traits! Although I didn't have YELLOW for Dream. Hope you liked the insight on my UTMV)

[deadheaddaisy]

Dealer's choice!

Cute/funny - "Do you know that your eyes actually have three different colours?" "You're very close."

Sweet/romantic - because physical touch is the other's love language and they deserve all the love

Go as the muse moves you! 🥰

Since you answered my ask so swiftly, and I managed to get this one out in an hour - a possible record for me! - here goes!

Hoshi leaned back and avoided the foot that was heading for her face, missing it by millimetres. “Too slow,” she teased, whirling in a standing cartwheel to swing her own foot at Malcolm as they let the capoeira direct their limbs in a freestyle series of kicks and punches. 

“I wouldn’t like to make contact with your face anyway,” was his rejoinder, “bare-foot or not. It’d hurt, and we don’t want that.”

“Yep, and smelly feet aren’t my thing,” she riposted, a sly smile on her face as she turned and jumped, kicking out from a standing position.

“Smelly feet?” Malcolm stopped for a moment, outraged - long enough for her to hook a foot around his ankle and pull, sending him tumbling to the mat. 

Even as he went down, she was moving, pushing her shoulder against his leg, bringing it up while she threw her weight laterally across his torso and lifted, pinning his shoulders in a cradle move. Although he tried to kick out, she managed to hold him down for three seconds before releasing him, turning swiftly to lay her entire body the length of his and grab his wrists, pinning them beside his head. 

“Got you down fair and square that time!” she panted, her grin of victory blazing bright. 

Malcolm grinned back up at her. “Square, yes. Fair?” he winked, managing to raise a sceptical eyebrow at the same time. 

“Hey, not my fault if you were distracted by me insulting your feet!”

He laughed. “I’m not sure another opponent would take you seriously if you said their feet smelled,” he teased, content to let her pin him for the moment. 

Laughing in return, she lowered her head and bumped his nose with hers. “I’ll be sneakier against other opponents,” she chuckled. “Besides, I haven’t gone up against anyone else I want to get down to the mat and hold there.”

“Is that so, Ensign Sato?”

“It is indeed, Lieutenant Reed. And as I recall, you promised to let me kick your - ‘arse’, was it? - at least once a session. So I’m taking advantage of that.” Hoshi winked, satisfaction in her gaze. 

He smiled and tugged gently at his wrists, with no real intention of getting free. It was fun when Hoshi insisted on pinning him so she could feel in control despite his superior strength. He’d never let anyone else use this hold on him.

Then she focused on his eyes, leaning over his and moving her legs to straddle him so she could get closer. “Did you know,” she said conversationally, staring at his irises from millimetres away, “that your eyes actually have three colours? A greenish-grey, some pale gold, and a little amber around the pupil. Oh, and a tiny speck of - hmm, maybe blue? - in your left eye.” 

Malcolm chuckled. “I did know,” he told her. “But you have to be very close to see it. Otherwise they just look grey. Or sometimes green, depending on the light.”

“Well then,” she smirked, “It’ll be our little secret. Unless Phlox gets up close and personal with your eyes, I guess.” Her eyes twinkled at him, and suddenly he twisted his wrists out of her grasp, surged upward and rolled so she was the one pinned. 

“Hmm, let’s see,” he murmured, straddling her and getting up close to her eyes in turn. “Shades of brown, ranging from dark chocolate to black coffee and a bit of amber. Nice.” He booped her nose gently with his own. “Also some shades of irritation, I see,” he teased. “Can’t help it if I want to be on top, Ensign. It’s a command imperative.”

“God, stop it, you’re so full of nonsense!” she exclaimed, trying to buck him off, but failing. Trying to look annoyed, she started giggling as he booped her nose again, then released her and rolled off, jumping to his feet and holding out a hand to help her up. 

“Let’s take this nonsense back to my quarters, then, shall we? I think the time is ripe for some massages and extra cuddles, minx.”

Taking his hand, she jumped to her feet in turn, and bumped his hip with hers. “You’ve got it, hero. Let’s go.”