#( i couldn't quite figure out a time where he'd say this without prompting

[balladetto]

cont. from here / @gloryseized

     The words don't come out the way he wants them to.

     In truth, this is a conversation Link's thought about for a while. He used to have the feelings prepared on the tip of his tongue, flattened against his teeth when the nights fell on them especially gently. He'd look over at Shion — asleep, or keeping watch, or passing him the ladle to their stew, or simply breathing — and imagine smiling: big enough that his teeth would show and a voice he doesn't have would slip past them to wrap it up perfectly.

     A stilted, "I trust you," is less than nothing against all that imagining.

     Shion understands and takes it anyway.

     There's a barely visible mist curling around their ankles. The shrine behind them casts a blue glow across the side of Shion's face. This is, in some part, about the sword that sits in the pedestal a glade's cut away, but Link pretends this isn't about it at all for one selfish moment. He smiles back as his companion shares a sentiment of too — I trust you too — infected by a warmth that rushes from his head down to his toes in a full-soul brightening.

     It's not a question of if when Shion opens his arms. Link's head ducks, something shy more than something scared, and even as his hands clench and unclench in his usual indecision, he pushes those steps closer to sink into that embrace. He grips as he always does when they hug, small fistfuls of a blue tunic he's come to find as comforting as the one who wears it.

[half-bakedboy]

Number 2 from the 50 cliché tropes and prompts

Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn't help but steal it

Buck never understood why he had lost so many sweatshirts and button-downs to past girlfriends. Nine times out of ten, they didn't even remotely fit their figure and they were only worn in the comfort of Buck's home anyways. 

Then he started staying over Tommy's house more and more. He'd always come prepared–an overnight bag filled with an extra LAFD shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, and two shirts, one with a collar and one without–just in case he needed to rush out in the morning. 

This morning, he isn’t quite as prepared as he wishes he had been. Tommy’s in the shower after sleepily kissing Buck good morning and Buck promised he’d run Hercules–Tommy’s ten-year-old retired racing greyhound–outside before Tommy dropped Buck off at work. Thunder crashes outside and rain pounds on the roof, and Buck didn’t even think to bring a jacket. 

He looks around the bedroom closet, careful not to invade the private space too much, but he doesn’t see anything that might help. He knows there’s an umbrella waiting beside the door, but he’s already shivering from the chill sneaking in through the closed windows and Buck knows he’ll need something to protect his skin. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pullover laid neatly on top of the laundry pile. It’s similar to his LAFD one, but a lighter blue that matches Tommy’s on-duty uniform. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll keep him warm and keep the water off of his skin which is all he has time to care about. He snatches it up and shouts to Tommy that he’s taking the dog outside even though he’s not sure he’s heard. 

Before he gets too far, Buck pauses to get the pullover on. The first thing he notices is how much bigger it is on him. He’s not a small guy by any means, and he’s not much smaller than Tommy–at least he thinks–but there’s so much extra fabric that he has to bundle it up at his waist. He can also tell that the back doesn’t stretch taut against his shoulder blades and that the neckline slouches a little in the front. 

It’s strange to wear something so unfit for him, but at the same time, Buck can’t help but feel giddy. He glances at himself in the mirror and feels small, but not in the way he usually does. It doesn’t make him feel inconsequential or overlooked, but like he’s protected and well-loved. It stirs inside of his stomach until the joy begins to bubble in his chest. 

He notices that Tommy’s name is embroidered just over his heart, and he brings his fingers there to trace over the lettering. It takes everything in him not to whisper his name combined with Tommy’s last and he wonders if this was how his old girlfriends felt when they stole his LAFD shirts that had his name brazen on the back. 

Where he expected to be a bit embarrassed at the claiming nature of it all, he can’t help but feel… powerful. Yeah, there’s something powerful about wearing someone else's name, like he’s screaming to the world that Tommy is off-limits because he’s Buck’s. 

He’s Buck’s. 

He’s too busy thinking about what exactly that means for him to hear the bathroom door open and a freshly showered and shaved Tommy emerge. Another figure beside Buck’s reflection startles him but Tommy’s reassuring hands slide around his waist. It’s strange how normal it feels to have strong, long arms wrapped around him and a broad chest waiting to hold him up as he leans back against it. 

“You’re wet,” Buck says, feeling the dampness on Tommy’s unclothed chest. He’s in sweatpants like he’s ready to lounge around for the day, but the bare skin of his upper body is clearly on display where Buck’s body isn’t hiding it. He wants to pull away just so he can take another peek. 

Tommy doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Buck is analyzing them because he’s too busy doing the same. There’s something in his eyes, though, that sends an eruption of warmth to Buck’s face. Tommy tugs at the extra fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s having the same realization as Buck did, and then he slides one hand up Buck’s chest to trace his name. He whispers each letter like a secret into Buck’s ear, piercing eyes never leaving Buck’s in the mirror. 

Buck shivers, pressing back against Tommy and leaning his head back so that it plops on Tommy’s shoulder comfortably. Tommy finishes his name before dragging a finger to the neckline of the pullover and letting it hang there like a weight that keeps Buck grounded.

“You’re wearing my jumper,” Tommy points out like he doesn’t already know. Buck suddenly feels anxious, like he’s made a horrible mistake, and stands back up straight. He turns to look at Tommy as he speaks. 

“Is that okay? I didn’t bring a jacket so I figured—” 

Tommy kisses him before he can finish, and Buck can only hope it becomes a pattern. 

It’s just as soft as their first kiss and every kiss they’ve shared since then, but it grows in passion second by second. Tommy is gripping the fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s deciding whether he wants to pull it over Buck’s head or leave it on his forever. Buck holds his naked shoulders, palms sliding down the hard planes of his chest then his abs, before sliding underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. 

When a cold nose hits his hand, Buck jumps back, out of breath and startled. Hercules is staring up at them like he’s let them have their fun and he’s done waiting to go outside. Tommy swipes at his face as he chuckles and Buck leans down to pat Herc’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Buddy. Am I stealing all of your dad’s attention?” Buck coos, and he can almost hear Tommy’s good-natured eye roll. 

“Well, if Evan here is done distracting me, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you outside, huh?” 

“Oh, if Evan is done distracting you? Like you didn’t just walk out of the shower half-naked and damp and looking like you wanted to drop to your kn–” Buck inhales deeply when Tommy glances down then back up and raises his eyebrows. “Alright, I’m out of here. Be right back,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to Tommy’s reddened lips. 

“Mhm,” Tommy hums, watching him start to walk away. 

“Do you want your pullover back?” Buck asks, because he figures that’s what he would’ve wanted to be asked. 

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours now.”

It sounds a lot like I’m yours now, but Buck doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he takes Hercules out, ignoring the storm rumbling above him, and strokes his thumb distractingly against Tommy’s name over his heart. He guesses he’s Tommy’s now, too.

(now on ao3)

[akutasoda]

Hi! For the 1k event could I request hcs of Wanderer or Alhaitham (either works!) with a shy but extroverted s/o? Like they love talking and socializing, but their shyness prevents them from doing so. Hurt/comfort, fluff, or angst would be fine :>

Love your writing btw!!

extroverted introverts

synopsis - when their s/o who loves socialising has a shyer personality

includes - alhaitham, wanderer

warnings - gn!reader, reader is shy but loves talking, fluff, slight angst, wc - 713

a/n: <3 thank you! why not both?

alhaitham ★↷

↪alhaitham isn't exactly a people person, he has those headphones on him for a reason now. he can happily go about his day not socialising with anyone outsiders of who he needs to speak to and even then he likes to keep it brief and gotten over with.

↪so when he first saw how shy you could be he kind of just assumed you weren't that fond of talking to people and that was all. it wouldn't take him long until he could see how you always looked like you had something to say when you were with people but never did.

↪he wanted to chalk it up to your shyness but when he saw you with familiar faces, himself included, you seemed to talk forever and it was like you would never be shy. it took him a short while to figure out you did like talking to people but you had a shyer side which made it very difficult for you.

↪now, if you were anyone else he'd see it as a tough luck situation but fortunately he cared for you. he wouldn't really waste any time in asking you about it and would quickly add that he'd be willing to try and help you. a small part of you wanted to tease him for becoming so willing to talk to people for your sake.

↪whenever you'd accompany alhaitham anywhere and he happened to be ambushed by someone he'd starrt helping you get incorporated into the conversation by always prompting you subtly - he actually liked doing this because he didn't have to talk to the other person but at the same time you could happily talk to them.

↪he would never pry into why you would become so shy sometimes as he knew it wasn't really his business but he'd still help you. sometimes he'd catch you becoming a bit more extroverted and see you talking to new people and a part of him would feel happy for you.

↪he did actively enjoy bringing you into conversations subtly as you always enjoyed talking with others and he didn't, so it'd normally take the attention off of him which meant he didn't have to talk to anyone unnecessarily.

wanderer ★↷

↪wanderer is quite a mixed bag when it comes to socialising with others. a part of him can be very outgoing and he likes to talk without a filter, uncaring to those around him especially when he's annoyed - much to nahida's dismay. another part of him can be quite quiet when it comes to socialising, preferring to silently judge while others talked.

↪didn't mind that you seemed to be shy and rather hesitant about talking with others. you'd probably have to tell him directly about how you loved to talk with others but you simply couldn't get over your shyness because he wouldn't really pick up on it precisely.

↪like maybe he'd notice how you always looked like you wanted to say something but didn't but he wouldn't really put two and two together. he'd also be slightly unsure of how to help because it's not like you can force somebody to just get better at talking to people.

↪he'd probably start noticing how much you actually did like socialising when he saw how quickly you could change from being shy to outgoing - specifically when talking to people you're quite familiar with. then he'd start noticing how much more outgoing and sociable you are, even with him.

↪he might be a little useless to begin with but maybe he'd start developing a more subtle approach where when he's talking to somebody he'd ask for your input and ease you into the conversation - it makes him very proud when he sees how comfortable you get when you get used to talking to someone and start enjoying the conversation.

↪or maybe if you didn't mind he'd start pushing you into taking the lead when you're both out and about. small things that would help you overcome your shyness and be able to have that confidence to be able to happily talk to anyone.

↪maybe he'd even let you talk his ear off late at night because he enjoys listening to how passionate you can be when talking-

akutasoda's 1k event

[acciocriativity]

BETTER THAN WORDS - JWY (FROM THE 300 FOLLOWERS EVENT)

(Pictures are not mine, credits to the rightful owners)

Ateez Masterlist

Requested from anon!

Thank you so much for the request, dear anon 💕 Since the idea is that I choose the prompts, I inspired myself to create ones based on yours. Hope you love it anyway 💖

"No, I'm telling you, I've seen the way she looks at you", San has been bothering him all morning, because Wooyoung was feeling defeated.

Wooyoung was, at least most of the time, a cheerful person. It came naturally to him. His friends at school expected that from him. He was their happy pill they would say and he was proud of it... but it's impossible to be positive, when you are so damn dense!

"I don't know San-ie, maybe we should give up on the mission".

This is not the Wooyoung he knows, it was the only thing on San's mind at the moment. Something must had happened for him to be sulking around like this and San would figure it out as if his life depend on it.

"Listen, let me try something and after that, you can do as you want, just pick up the phone when I call, okay?", San said in such a serious and determinate tone that Wooyoung couldn't say no.

You came into his life, their lives, out of nowhere. One day, it was the three of them, San, Yeosang and Wooyoung, then the next day there was you sitting with them at lunch being bombarded with questions by Wooyoung.

San was soo confused at first, because sure, they were known as friendly people, Yeosang being the shiest and quiest, but they kept to their own group most of the time. It was rare to find someone that would fit in with them the way that you did.

Wooyoung adored you, trully, but after everything that he tried already, you still didn't have a single clue about his feelings. It made him anxious and a tiny bit insecure, maybe you just did not like him back...

"Don't!", San whispered to Wooyoung as they got into class. "I know this expression, whatever it is, it's not true.

THE 1° ATTEMPT: FAILED

He asked you out on a date. It was quite straight forward to be honest, how can he be more direct than that?

Your answer?

"Sure, where do you want to go?", there was that smile on your face that showed him you thought he meant in a friendly way.

Maybe he wasn't that straight forward then. The both of you went out together a lot for the past month already, but without a name to it. A name he desperately wanted to put on it.

"Hum, maybe that café that opened last week?", you didn't know him enough to notice his smile was forced yet, he was way to good at faking it.

THE 2° ATTEMPT: FAILED

He decided to pull out every trick he knew of. By the end of the week following his first failed plan, he clingied to you like a koala, more than he already did!

While you thought he was adorable and sweet, cuddling to you at every chance and staying by your side whenever you four were walking to class... You missed your personal space a little. You felt what it was like to be Yeosang for the first time, it wasn't a easy job to be that loved all day every day.

Still, how can you ask to that pretty face to give you some space? You could imagine it the kicked puppy face he'd make and that only already broke your heart.

"Wooyoung-ah", you said as you stood together side by side, waiting for the others to meet you at the front of the school.

He looked up from where he was. Chin on your shoulder, hands around your waist as he sway you both to a song he just came up with. His eyes shined in adoration, his smile contagious as he waited for your answer.

His skin was glowing... No, he was glowing that day for some reason. His whole demeanor screamed happiness since 7:30 A.M.

"Did something good happened today?"

It did. Someone asked him if you guys were dating. He had to go to the bathroom to regain some control over his body.

"Just you".

There he was again.

He always been quite flirty, but the past week it only increased. You didn't know what to do with yourself in this situation, you were always caught off guard and your mind came up with a million scenarios to explain this behavior. None of them left you happy though.

"You are impossible, aren't you?", you laughed it off, like you've been doing. You felt like you have to do it to protect yourself and the friend group you barely got into.

THE 5° ATTEMPT: IN PROGRESS

In San's humble opinion, Wooyoung was doing everything wrong. He was way too lost in his feelings to realize that it wasn't how direct and how obvious he could be, it was about you.

You and Wooyoung somehow were like twins, your energy matched in a way no one saw coming. You were the smart kid in class in their minds for the first half of the school year. You're quiet, but kind hearted and smart. Everyone thought the same until Wooyoung decided enough is enough.

He saw bits and pieces of your personality and being the direct man he's always been, he decided right then and there to get to know you more.

But that also meant you also weren't happy 24/7, you struggled a lot too and you could be as insecure as everyone else, even with your cheerful personality shinning through.

San could it see it looking from the outside, you're scared of falling for Wooyoung or maybe you already fell deep into it and couldn't be sure if he was serious about his attempts. He didn't know which one, but he knows he has to do something about it.

"Why don't you talk to him?", his tone wasn't judgmental and his eyes were kind as he sat by your side.

"I want to, but what if he's just being, you know, Wooyoung", you didn't need to explain it further.

San let out a snort, he couldn't help himself as he smiled.

There was a ultimate truth in this, you didn't know Wooyoung for long. You didn't see him go through the lowest up to the highest point in his life. You showed up in a high and since then, Wooyoung has been flying higher and higher because of you.

"He's not like this, you know... I'm mean, he is but he's been so much happier and energized since you came along", he said as he looked forward.

This words stayed with you for a long time, but there was still something missing. Something you wanted to see for yourself and Wooyoung didn't give it to you yet.

So you asked to meet up with him in hopes of seeing it.

"I know what you've been trying to do, you know? You're not discreet, Wooyoung-ie".

He was stunned. Was he getting rejected right now?

The bright smile in his face faded in front of you and you hated it the sight. Your instinct was to grab his hands in yours.

"I just wanted to see it for myself, Yeosang said you looked at me like Winnie the pooh looked at some honey", the smile in your lips only grew as you repeated the words.

Wooyoung was baffled, embarrassed and feeling a little betrayed, because at the end of the day he knew it was true.

"I just wanted more than words", you whispered as you saw it for yourself the effect you had on him. "But don't get me wrong, you are usually good with those".

"Usually?!"

You laughed as you intertwined your hands in his.

"Honey, you're blushing like a tomato right now", you thought he was blushing even more because of your teasing, but he wasn't.

He wouldn't ever tell you how much he loved the petname though.

[faejilly]

Shadowhunters prompt! Where the A/B/O thing means Magnus’s attempts to get Alec’s attention are really out there. Alec is charmed but baffled

so uh. I wasn't quite sure where to go with that, because Magnus & Alec's ability to try and communicate at dramatic cross-purposes is Very Them™️, but I usually think the a/b/o thing would make it easier what with pheromones and more defined gender/courting rituals? But then again it's not like Nephilim would have any idea how anyone else does things, and Magnus would be rather paranoid about crossing any lines?

Yeah. That totally works. Even if I failed to explain any of that IN THE FIC, hopefully baffled Alec is still entertaining? LMK if you want more, there's a whole lot more explanation in my head so I'm sure I can come up with something. 😅😅😅

That was Magnus.

In the Institute.

In a suit with a vest but no shirt and those boots and his hair, and Alec suddenly realized he was still standing with his arm raised from opening a door even though the door had shut behind him.

He was alone with Magnus in the Institute foyer and he was gorgeous and he smelled perfect, as warm and comforting as the incense that burned in the chapel without any of the cold tang of adamas-laced stone beneath it that always made Alec's spine straighten and nose wrinkle because that smell meant work.

Alec finally remembered to let his hands drop to his sides, and then realized Magnus had said something, and he was almost smiling and he was...

Holding out a bouquet of flowers?

Alec blinked.

"What."

He didn't manage to make it sound like a question, and he almost winced as Magnus' expression tightened, and he leaned back and he was further away and the flowers were gone, and Alec almost whimpered in disappointment.

"My apologies, of course."

And then somehow Magnus was bowing and he was even further away with a flourish of his hands and a twirl of his coat and the click of his boot-heels on the stone floor and Alec tried to reach out a hand because he still couldn't figure out what Magnus had said, he'd been too distracted by how pretty he was and how nice the flowers were but then he was alone by himself in the Institute with his hand hanging in front of him.

Again.

What.

Why.

Alec sighed, and stared up at the ceiling, as if that would give him the answer, would explain how his why are you giving me flowers when we haven't even rescheduled our date yet and I haven't gotten you anything? somehow come out as why would you think I'd like flowers despite the fact that Alec adored flowers and would love to tell Magnus that.

If he could just remember how to talk when Magnus showed up?

He'd managed to say yes when Magnus asked him out for drinks!

Only then he'd had to chase Clary and apparently Magnus thought that meant something other than literally having to chase Clary because she didn't have the sense God gave sheep.

Izzy or Jace were going to manufacture a disaster and call Magnus to clean it up just to find out what was going on between them, and Alec hated to think how much of a catastrophe they'd manage on purpose, considering the chaos they pulled off all the time mostly by accident.

He hated even more that he was half-tempted to create a disaster himself so Magnus would stop thinking he'd done something wrong and disappearing to regroup before Alec's brain could reboot after seeing him.

How the fuck was one person that attractive, it should be impossible.

Maybe he could write a letter and throw it at Magnus the next time he showed up?

He heard the door he'd come through open, and the stutter of boots as someone had to shift to avoid him where he was still standing by himself right in front of the door.

Alec sighed again. "Yes, Yoshino?"

"I was uh." Yoshino somehow still looked perfectly composed and reasonably elegant in her leathers even as she shrugged and side-stepped to get around him. "Just going out for coffee. Want anything?"

Alec shook his head. "No, thank you."

"You... all right sir?"

Alec lifted his brows at her.

"You've got that smoky cedar smell thing going on, and that usually means you're about to do something on purpose that terrifies the trainees more than their own reckless stupidity, and I just want to know if I should get some extra bold beans to stash in the kitchen for the rest of us so we can keep up."

Alec snorted and shook his head again. "I promise not to scare the trainees."

Yoshino's nose wrinkled as she stared at him. "Two bags then, got it."

He blinked, and she turned and left, and he allowed himself a grin as the door swung closed behind her. That was probably a good idea, actually. He could use the kick to help him figure out a new approach.

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Warnings: mild blood, violence,

Words: 2149

Prompt: @badthingshappenbingo square Slammed into a Wall

ao3 link Masterlist

---

The Shunned Fox

Stiles really wishes he took Cora’s words to heart about what it felt like to lose a member of your pack. Now, he didn't necessarily not believe her. It's just that Stiles felt it five times over. Scott kicked him out of the pack because of what happened with Donovan. Blaming the fox part of him for his wrong doings and not believing it was self defense. 

That night, while soaked from the rain, sitting outside of his broken down jeep, Stiles felt all five of those pack bonds snap. Scott, Malia, Kira, Mason, and Liam. All torn away from him for an awful mistake. Thankfully, he can still feel Lydia because she'd never do that. And he never accepted Theo as pack, so there's that too. 

Minor silver linings. 

It doesn't make the pain any lighter. Just something small to cling to when the loss gets to be too much to handle. 

So yeah, he wishes he had listened and really processed what Cora tried to tell him after Boyd died. But how could Stiles have possibly properly understood? He was still human then. 

Untainted by the Nogitsune's mark. Which was just Deaton’s way of saying that Stiles was a werefox now. Apparently when a thousand year old fox demon spits you- a now carbon copy of your own body- out, it doesn't make you with a clean slate. No. Because it had to use part of itself just to create you. 

Ever since the Nogitsune, there was no such thing as a "clean slate" for Stiles. 

And it's not like Stiles didn't know what he was. He saw his name on the deadpool right under Scott’s like everyone else did. He kept his nose down. Helped the pack like he'd always done. Dealt with the nightmares and residual mental turmoil and stress. Not to mention Isaac leaving without so much as a goodbye and Derek leaving with Cora. 

Scott never quite looked at him the same way after Allison died in his arms. As if the wolf couldn't differentiate between Stiles and the Nogitsune because they had the same face. 

Aside from Lydia, Stiles goes through all of this alone. 

If it really came down to it, the fox is almost certain that he could confide in Theo. After spending hours alone in his jeep just talking, Stiles believes the wolf would listen. After all, Theo didn't have to talk about his sister or offer to keep the fox's secret and he did. There's also the fact that Theo was Stiles' first crush. He almost wonders if he had been a little more trusting and accepted Theo as pack if he would've felt that bond snap too. Or if like Lydia, Theo wouldn't drop him no matter what. 

Because even as a kid, Stiles could've sworn he saw the same twinkle in Theo's eyes when they looked at each other. Stiles still sees it. 

But then he would have to deal with the smug smirk of satisfaction painting the wolf's face. The obligatory 'I told you so' when he admits that they're friends or that Stiles trusts him. And it also comes with the fear that the fox doesn't think he can reach out to Theo. Not after his blatant mistrust and disapproval that Stiles displayed. Why would he deserve it? 

For now, he'll continue to lick his wounds alone. Heal himself and figure out where to go from there. Pocket the childhood crush rising back to the surface for now until things cool off. 

When Stiles first became a supernatural creature, he thought it was so cool that his senses went into overdrive. While having a bad day in class all he needed to do was listen for his friends' heartbeats. Or the chance that they were talking in class and simply hear their voices. Now that he's been ostracized, walking the empty halls and hearing them planning in an empty room tears at Stiles' heart. Usually, the fox will keep walking as if he'd heard nothing. Respect the fact that he's no longer welcome. 

But this time, "you need him," stops Stiles in his tracks. He keeps his breathing slow and steady in attempts to avoid being caught eavesdropping. 

Theo could be talking about someone else. Except judging by the annoyed growl Scott gives as a response, there couldn't be anyone else. 

"Stiles is smart," Liam tries to reason with his Alpha. 

"Scott, the Beast has gotten out of control," Theo sounds just as annoyed as the Alpha. "If anyone can figure out a way to stop it, it's Stiles." 

Scott snarls, "that's what Lydia is for." 

How kind Scott, sounding like an animal while talking about why someone is useful. Would you toss her aside if she did something to protect herself too? Until her usefulness no longer fits with your perfect agenda. Though it warms the fox's heart to hear the others stick up for him. 

"I need help, Scott," Lydia scoffs and Stiles can see the exacerbation on her face. "He was onto something last I talked to him. I think Stiles knows how to stop it." 

That's true. Stiles found a book that showed a hellhound dispelling the Beast from its host. 

"Great," Theo claps. "He's outside so why don't we hear what he has to say?" 

"What?" The Alpha snaps. 

Stiles is right there with you, Scott. He thought he was being quiet enough to go unnoticed. When the door opens, Theo is standing there with his ever present smirk while the fox stares in shock. 

"Don't tell me you didn't smell him when he walked up?" Theo's smirk widens, "I could pick out your scent anywhere." 

Lydia groans, rubbing her temples, "so not the time, Theodore." 

Right again, Lydia. Now is not the time for Stiles' cheeks to be painted a hot red color. The fox doesn't miss the wink Theo tosses him before yanking him into the classroom, making the blush burn that much hotter. 

Liam and Mason, sitting on two desks offer him a small smile, the latter speaking, "what's the theory you have?"

"Do you really think it can be stopped?" Liam asks quietly. Having seen the Beast up close and personal, Stiles can't blame the young Beya for his fear and hesitation. Or for him following along with Scott. It takes a lot to defy your Alpha.

"Yeah," the fox clears his throat, slipping his backpack off his shoulder and onto a desk so he can show them the book. "I found this a little while ago," he tells Theo, fingers wrapping around the text, "it shows the Beast being-" 

"Enough," Scott growls dangerously, low and angry in his throat. Stiles recoils at the sound. "There's some poor kid stuck with the Beast in its body. I don't want to hear your half thought out plan that ends up with another teenager dead." Scott follows the fox as he takes steps back. 

He needs distance or something bad is going to happen. Another teenager dead. Scott is standing here throwing Donovan’s death in Stiles’ face as if he murdered him on purpose. Like it wasn’t a matter of life or death for Stiles. All Scott sees is the blood on his hands and Allison dead in his arms, nothing else. 

"Half thought?" Stiles shakes his head. That's not the case at all. The teenager will be fine. "Scott, I'm just trying to help y-" 

"I said enough," Scott roars, fisting the collar of the fox's shirt and slamming him into the wall. 

Sparkles dance around his vision as his head smacks the wall. 

So much happens so quickly, the fox barely registers it. But that could just be from the harsh crack his head just took. 

The second he hits the wall, Stiles half hears Mason’s, "what the fuck," over Theo's vicious roar. No sooner do Scott’s searing Alpha eyes come into focus are they being yanked away by Theo, shoving him against the teacher's desk. Malia steps in between the two and the fox, crouched and ready. Lydia appears at his side, locking their fingers together. 

"Some True Alpha you are," Theo says, managing to sound menacing and calm all at once. Like it's effortless for a Beta to overcome an Alpha like that. 

"He's not a part of this pack anymore," Scott defends, "he has no right to even be here!" 

"It's Stiles," Theo growls and shakes the Alpha. "Touch him again and I'll kill you." 

What?

"Holy shit, he's actually doing it," Lydia sounds amazed and proud. Does she understand what's happening here? 

"I'm your Alpha, you can't-"

Theo chuckles darkly, "better yet, you so much as look at Stiles again and I'll break your hands to where not even your Alpha powers can heal you. You're no Alpha of ours." His words shoot a surge of warmth in the fox's chest. The feeling of his former pack members rushing into him. 

The best of all, feeling Theo in his chest. Warmer and softer than the others. Stiles can’t explain exactly what it is, but whatever it is, it’s amazing and he wishes he could’ve felt this way the whole time.

"Theo-"

"No," he cuts Scott off again. Nice considering how little the Alpha let Stiles finish a sentence. "Come near him again and I'll officially challenge you for Alpha. Got me?" 

Scott aggressively brushes Theo's hands off of him and storms out of the room. 

No one follows him. 

Not even Liam. 

The door slams closed and Theo turns to face him, golden eyes flickering red for the smallest of moments. But Stiles saw it as Malia backed out of the way.

Theos hands cup the fox's face, "are you okay?" 

Stiles' heart hasn't quite stopped thundering in his chest, but he's alive. Bringing a hand to the back of his head, he winces at the sting the action elicits. "That hurts," Stiles says, pulling his hand back to find blood on his fingers. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Theo snarls, taking the fox’s pain.

“Allow me,” Malia growls, stalking out of the classroom. 

Liam sighs, “I’ll go keep an eye on her,” before following the coyote. 

“Mason,” Lydia tries to sound nonchalant, but her voice chirps, “he’s going to need help.” But the way she looks at Stiles and Theo- who’s still stroking the fox’s face despite there being no more pain- speaks volumes as to why they’re really leaving.

At least Mason doesn’t verbally question it, despite his face also being about as subtle as a billboard as he dutifully follows the banshee out.

“You didn’t have to do that,” the fox murmurs, gently removing Theo’s hands from his face now that the wound is healed. “I’m not worth challenging your Alpha over,” Stiles takes a step back, avoiding eye contact. 

Theo looks dumbfounded. “Not worth it? Not worth it? Stiles,” the wolf steps closer, grabbing Stiles’ hands, “I would have done it the night he kicked you out of the pack if I wasn’t focused on trying to keep Hayden alive. To me, you’re more than worth it.”

“Why?” Stiles asks, his heart fluttering at the steadiness of the wolf’s. Not a lie in sight. 

Was he right? That he isn’t the only one with a past crush that isn’t exactly in the past?

“You can’t tell me that with how ridiculously smart you are that you don’t know.” Theo smirks, “come on, Miecz.”

“I-” the fox clears the crack in his voice. He’s in a cross between disbelief and happiness that Stiles doesn’t know how to handle himself. “I think I do, yeah. But I’d rather you tell me so I don’t get my hopes up.” Stiles isn’t sure he can survive anymore blows to his heart. 

It’s fragile enough. 

Theo chuckles through his nose, dropping the fox’s hands to snake them around his waist. “How about,” the wolf pulls Stiles close, “I just show you.”

The burn in Stiles’ cheeks and the pounding in his chest don’t get to be processed because Theo’s mouth is on his. Theo’s fucking kissing him and the fox doesn’t remember how to breathe. Stiles was so swept up with being kicked out of the pack and not initially trusting Theo that he never thought this was possible. Yet Theo’s perfect lips are against his and it’s everything Stiles denied himself of wanting.

Much too soon the wolf pulls back, placing one last gentle kiss on Stiles’ mouth. “So you understand now?” Theo whispers, resting their foreheads together.

Feeling courage for the first time in who knows how long, Stiles grins, no. I think you need to explain it again.”

“I protect what’s mine. You’re mine, Miecz,” he rumbles in his chest, “and you’re worth everything to me,” Theo says before sealing their mouths together again. Explaining over and over again exactly what he meant while Stiles purrs from the affection. 

[vyuntspakhkite-l-darling]

Writing share tag

Thanks for the tag, @cowboybrunch ! Convenient timing with this one, because I worked on my first draft for the first time in a while last night. And well, it is a first draft, but I do think what I wrote is helping make Virava a more distinct character.

When the group returned to camp, Liena greeted them immediately. They gave her the rundown. At least half of the talking was done by Arsioly. Virava almost expected him to whip out his little trophy, even though it'd probably get him an earful from Liena at best. That was the sort of thing the Emperor's Divine Army did when they managed to kill rebel soldiers, it was a shock that he'd done it. "Our cover was broken earlier than we expected," Arsioly said, referencing Tavery, who had been taken to the large- well, large for the RA's standards- medical tent. "But we handled it well. And if the cleanup team does their job, they'll bring us back a gun." Liena hummed and nodded, and then decided she'd heard enough. She dismissed the group, though most didn't leave the clearing, heading straight for the fire to receive their meals. Virava did so as well, and as she crouched down to eat and warm up by the fire, Liena walked over with her hands on her hips. "How was it?" the camp leader asked, squatting next to Virava, her pinecone-colored ponytail bobbing with the movement. The light caught on the silver strands that were starting to creep through the brown, like ivy overtaking a wall. Virava smiled, and it didn't reach her eyes. "Well… it was fine. Process was different than I remembered, but not in a bad way. We've gotten more careful." Liena hummed but didn't speak, probably trying to prompt a less impersonal answer. "Sibatol gave me a scare. He got lost between buildings, there was a moment where we couldn't find him." Liena seemed skeptical, and Virava couldn't say that, after thinking about it more, she quite believes he'd gotten lost in that little village either. "Ah… him. How did he do?" "About like I expected. He was real anxious going in," Virava sighed. "But I didn't really see him in action. I'll admit, I wasn't paying much attention to anything, the adrenaline had me. But he came out without a scratch, so I assume he did well." Liena nodded and moved to sit down on her hip. "That's good. I was worried about him." Virava made a noise that said the feeling was mutual. She'd been more than worried about Sibatol, especially in those moments where she didn't know where he was. She might have had a heart attack if something had happened to him. She couldn't handle another loss. Deciding to change the subject before the got too into her own head, she asked, "How are the other camp leaders doing?" "They're doing alright. Zhaik and Eila's camps have missions planned that will connect their territories, which is huge. We've decided we're going to focus on that- connecting camps, I mean. We want to close the gaps so that we can block off trade from Conalis to Kristalya, at least over land. Not much we can do about boats." "Smart. But I figure if I was Conalis and I suddenly had a group of ruffians blocking trade and losing me money, I'd be pretty pissed. Let's make sure to redirect traders to places where their merchandise will still be bought. We don't need more enemies, especially not ones that will leave us trapped between them." "We've already thought of that, yes, but thank you," Liena said, her eyes squinting with a bit of humor. Virava chuckled. "Just making sure." They were quiet then, each lost in their respective thoughts. Then Liena spoke again. "You know, that's the kind of thinking we look for in camp leaders." Virava rolled her eyes. This wasn't the first time Liena had propositioned her to try and get her to become a camp leader. Virava knew why, of course. She'd been with the rebellion since just after it started picking up a traction and becoming a real threat to the empire. She'd been here longer than most soldiers in the camp, and she had the skills to prove it. But that kind of responsibility just wasn't something Virava wanted. Her mistakes had gotten people hurt too many times to be interested in that. "Maybe it is." Liena understood that as a rejection of the idea and didn't speak on it further.

Tagging @mk-writes-stuff, @written-among-stars, and @abbyzwrites

[shadow-sandiego-shipping]

Daily Prompts - Day 8

After school

Black Sheep ran to her room, the room she shared with everyone else. It's the first place she thinks to look.

Everyone else had stayed behind in the cafeteria, but if Shadow wasn't there, there were only so many other places he could be.

"Shadow?" She calls out into the half empty dorm.

Mime bomb smiles at her and waves.

She runs up to him. "Hi, Mime bomb! Have you seen Shadow-san anywhere?" The mime smiles wider and points at her bed.

She looks over, there was a note. "Thanks!"

Walking closer to the bed, next to the note was a little origami sheep.

Black Sheep smiles, the little sap abandoned them so he could be all mysterious and leave her a note and gift. She feels her cheeks heating up just slightly, it was kind of sweet.

In the note he wrote he'd be at the beach. It didn't ask her to join him, nor did it imply she would, it was just letting her know where he went.

She breathes a sigh of relief.

That day, professor Maelstrom had made them take a surprise test. It wasn't too dificult. Black Sheep could tell the teacher probably just enjoyed the initial panic on the students faces whenever he pulled something like surprise tests.

That class had been their last for the day, and Maelstrom let them leave as they finished their own test, as opposed to waiting for everyone to finish.

Shadow had left very early.

Black Sheep was close to done with her own test when she noticed him walking out, but she took her time with reviewing everything before leaving.

When she got outside Le Chèvre was there already but Shadow was long gone. Chèvre and her waited for the rest of the gang so they could get dinner before going back to the dorm. But when they got to the cafeteria, Shadow-san wasn't there either.

Graham suggested they get food, Tigress chewed her ear for "being a stalker" and Chèvre told her to shut up. El Topo suggested Shadow might've been tired and she figured he could be right!

Now, she made her way outside.

The weather was nice, a slight breeze in the air. The sun was about to set, rendering the shy with hues of orange and purple.

She spots him sitting in the sand.

Neither say a word when she walks up to him and sits by his side.

She breathes in the sea side smell and feels the heat of the after school sun on her face. She looks at Suhara, whose eyes never left the horizon.

"You're quiet today."

He ducks his face further into his folded arms, supported on his knees. He shrugs.

She smirks teasingly. "Should I call Mime bomb over to translate?" That gets him to look at her once.

"Very funny." He deadpans.

He unfolds his arms and stretches his legs. She gets a good look at his expression.

"Are you ok?" He looked kind of sad.

He shrugs. "Missing home, I guess."

She couldn't relate. For as long as she remembered, VILE was her home. And yes, it was quite literally a tropical paradise.

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

"Do you?" There's another meaning behind that question.

Yesterday, after school, they snuck out in the middle of the night to look at the starts. He then told her about Japan, about karaoke, about his home. He even taught her a couple of words in his native language. But when he asked her about herself, she clammed up on him and refused to share a word. She was afraid it had hurt his feelings. Her suspicions becoming more of a reality until she found the note.

"S-sorry, I didn't." He turns to her with an apologetic look. "T-there are some things I did not tell you about... it... it's a sore topic for me. I got defensive." He looks down.

The hands in his lap fidget with each other.

She looks at the horizon where the sun had started to dip.

"It's a pretty view." She sighs.

He looks at what she's looking, then he turns to her again.

"Not as pretty as you." He whispers.

"What?" Had she misheard him?

His eyes widen and he looks away.

"I, uh... sorry for leaving you all without a warning." He rubs the back of his head. Black Sheep couldn't see, cause he was facing away, but his cheeks were burning bright.

"Oh..." She figures she did mishear him. "Tigress is mad, but other than her no one cares." She shrugs.

He obviously couldn't care less about Tigress' opinion.

"Not even you?" He spares her a glance.

"Of course I care! You're my best friend!" He looks disheartened by that.

She thinks back on the previous night. "Are you mad at me?" He suddenly looks surprised.

"Why would I be?"

"For... not talking about my childhood?"

Only then does he realize how his behaviour might’ve made her think he was mad her.

"It's fine if you do not want to share your past with me, baby lamb. I'm not mad about that." She looks at him expectantly. He sighs. "I did some bad stuff back at home... before I came here. Talking to you about it made me remember it." He rubs his head. His hair was getting long. "I-" His voice cracks. "I'm a bad person."

Black Sheep gasps. "No you're not!" He doesn't acknowledge her. "Shadow... Suhara." That gets him to look. "You don't have to tell me about that stuff if you don't want to. But you're not a bad person. You're kind and you're sweet." She takes the little origami he made for her out of her pocket. "You're amazing."

He frowns, albeit weakly. "That stuff doesn't mean anything. It's just some paper."

"It means a lot to me." She presses the sheep close to her chest. He blushes.

"T-thanks, baby lamb."

"You do need to stop calling me that tho."

He smirks. "Never."

She smiles at him, he smiles back. If either notice the other's cheeks red like roses, neither choose to comment on it.

They rearrange their position to finish watching the sunset, shoulders pressed against each other.

They stay like that almost to the end until Black Sheep's stomach rumbles. Shadow-san starts laughing like a little kid and she punches his arm.

"Did you skip dinner?" He asks between snorts when her belly insists on rumbling non stop.

"It's your fault I did!" She slaps his arm for every laugh.

Previous day // Promps Aquired from Write App. // Next day

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 31 / 31 * FINALE | HEART 」

March 8, 1929

Whenever Erhardt was at the courthouse, if Emmett wasn't in his room, pouring over works that would make his father red-faced and angry, he could be found with a pillow propped up against the grandfather clock in the living room, leaning back and reading whatever caught his eye this time.

It had become a pattern over the years, one Sarah had learned quite quickly after the first two times wondering where her son had run off to when he wasn't anywhere to be found in his room. Emmett was at his most comfortable when his father wasn't at home—and she couldn't blame him for that, despite how she'd tried to soften the tension between her husband and her child—and he didn't hesitate to take full advantage of the house when it was open to him.

Sarah quirks a brow upon seeing the book clutched in Emmett's hands. ❝Are you reading one of my science-fiction novels again?❞

❝Father isn't home to yell at me for wasting my time reading this worthless trash.❞ He puts on his best impression of his father as he can, mimicking the gruffness of his voice and the accent he'd yet to lose even after nearly twenty years here. ❝He wouldn't even listen to me when I told them they were educational, because they were about science.❞

Sometimes, his parents seem like fire and ice compared to each other, opposites in every way eternally fated to clash, especially where their interests are concerned; there are days he simply can't understand how they get along.

❝I found this hidden in your library.❞ He holds up the copy of A Voyage to Arcturus he'd swiped, knowing he won't be reproached for his choice in reading material. Finally, he looks away from the book, and Emmett purses his lips, studying his mother's done-up hair and full state of dress, coming to the conclusion she must be going out again for some of the day's chores.

He wonders if this time, he'll be forced to go along.

❝You know your father usually gets home around five,❞ she says, prompting Emmett to lift his head as high as he can to see the hands of the grandfather clock above him, ❝so be cautious how long you spend out here, dear.❞ The time currently reads 11:00 exactly and he frowns.

❝Is Father ever going to get our grandfather clock repaired? It has been broken for weeks and I really liked the hourly chimes.❞

❝He said he sent out for a repairman, but that was two weeks ago and I've heard nothing since. At this rate, I don't know when it'll be repaired. I'll bring it up to him tonight at dinner. Speaking of—Emmett, I'm going out to pick up some groceries. I trust you'll behave for a few hours while I'm out?❞

Emmett nods and with a quick goodbye, Sarah closes the door behind her, leaving him alone.

The book in his hands no longer holds his interest. Now that they've brought it up, all he can think about is the broken clock, whose mechanical songs have been sorely missed over the past few weeks. The clock had always been a constant, a comfort, a staple in the house as far back as he can remember, and he'd found himself on more than one occasion peering into the glass, watching the pendulum swing and the weights dance with their precise, rhythmic grace.

It was as close to watching time live and breathe as he could get and it had captivated him, as did the smaller clocks set up in the house.

Just a few months ago, he'd disassembled the small bedside clock in his room to see how it worked and had managed to put it back together without either of his parents figuring out.

If he could do that, surely he could fix this one, his favourite clock in the entire house.

His father clearly didn't see the importance of having it operational again—that, or he simply didn't care—and he could already imagine how the conversation at dinner would go. Poorly. And the clock would remain broken for another several weeks.

If he didn't, nobody else would.

Emmett checks to make sure his mother really has left before he hurries to the storage room to dig out the toolbox he'd seen his father use several times.

It's heavier than he remembers, but his mind is made up and nothing is going to get in the way of his goal, even if he has to drag the box the rest of the way towards the house.

As he peers inside the glass, he starts to take stock of all the pieces within, studying each of them carefully as if the answer will suddenly leap out at him. There could be any number of things that silenced the clock and as far as he's concerned, the best solution is to start carefully removing pieces until he can pinpoint the culprit.

For a moment, the task feels gargantuan, what with all the sprawling, delicate clockwork, but he's got his wits, his determination, and his trusty toolbox, so as he stands on his toes, reminding himself to be slow and cautious, it starts to feel more doable.

I should start from the top down.

The side door only takes a little wiggling to get loose and Emmett marvels at the first real look he's ever gotten at the movement, glittering gold in its wooden case. His eyes widen at the mechanical marvel twisting before him and he finds it even more appealing than the ornate carvings inlaid into the dark cabinet.

The front door swings open easily and Emmett's touch is almost featherlight as he pulls the hands off the movement. The clock face looks unsettling without the hands there, almost like it's naked, and he frowns as he sticks the hands in his pockets for safekeeping.

Everything has to come out in order for him to properly inspect it, but the question now becomes how. How does he remove the movement without further damaging what he's trying to repair?

Emmett sticks his head through the open side panel again and lets out an excited aha! when he spots the latches holding the face of the clock in place. A firm push knocks it free and sends the face clattering to the ground. He winces at the sound, but a quick inspection reveals no new damage—nothing has snapped off or bent or broken, so he must still be okay.

The relief he feels at that is short-lived when he realises he has no idea what to do next.

He presses his lips together in thought and reaches back through time to try and feel around the different pieces of the machine. This is all just another puzzle, one created by someone who may understand time better than him, but he has science on his side, and if he follows the cables and pulleys back to their origin point, where they connect must be the problem.

A broken gear, perhaps, or a bent hammer, or something has gotten knocked out of place.

When he tries to pull at the movement again, it remains stubbornly locked in place, and so he drops his focus down to the weights dangling lifelessly at the end of their golden ropes.

Those, too, clatter to the ground in perfect synchronisation with the loud yelp of surprise he lets out.

The rest of the pieces follow unceremoniously after, one-by-one until he's left cradling the silent heart of the clock in his hands.

Emmett turns it over in his hands, scrutinising it from corner-to-corner to try and spot anything that screams this, this is the problem!

❝Emmett Lathrop Brown!❞ That cold, booming voice strikes fear straight into his chest and Emmett immediately freezes, clutching the clock's heart to his chest like a shield. He's sitting in the centre of the half-circle of dismembered clock parts and no amount of trying to talk his way out of this one is going to make him look any less guilty than he is.

His father's anger could level the house. He can feel it, a thousand white-hot blades digging into his skin, even from across the room.

He tries to look up at the clock above him, but instead of helping him, it screams accusations.

❝Y-Yes, Father?❞

[daedalusdavinci]

24. with jasico

this was fucking targeted. anon how could you. god let me. dig into my repressed memories of toa and see what i can pull out of my ass like i dont spend my every waking moment obsessed with ghosts. im about to take so many fucking liberties with canon its ridiculous

edit: apparently this is one of those prompts i get carried away with. im sorry for my undying love for leo but im also not. ill stop pushing my agendas when i die. thanks for the ask!

24. Returned from the dead kiss

There were few people who could claim to know the dead better than Nico. He'd spent disturbingly large portions of his life around people that should have been dead decades ago, but continued anyway, out of time and lost, around vengeful ghosts who refused to rest, around those who had passed on, around those who were unable to die and spent ages in and out of hell, and occasionally- just occasionally- those who managed to come back. He knew every flavor of life and unlife because he'd survived on it, never quite able to make himself comfortable at the warmest end of that spectrum.

He'd gotten close, once. When he had a handful of friends to rely on, each with their own ghosts, and willing to understand his own, he'd thought maybe he could manage his own place in the sun. There was Will, who'd offered a stubbornly bright connection to a home he'd never known how to claim. There was Reyna, who seemed to understand how lost and unwanted he felt, and offered a friendship without complication, and without judgement. There was his sister- not the sister he'd lost, but one he'd found, who loved him as easily as breathing. And then there was Jason, who was just... there, every single time he needed him, trying even when he had no reason to.

But Camp Half-Blood inevitably began to grate again, and despite Will's reassurances, he could only stay for so long. His position in between the camps was complicated, and often disliked, now that everyone understood it, and when Reyna started talking about joining the Hunters of Artemis, he just... couldn't go back to New Rome. Hazel had a life to figure out, now that she understood it all, and while he loved her dearly, he couldn't cling to her for everything. So there was Jason. Until, suddenly, there wasn't.

Nico was not a stranger to people he loved dying. In the past, he had fought it and gotten nowhere. But somewhere in between Piper's crying and Leo's soft, broken laughter late at night, between Reyna leaving with Artemis as his sister had so long ago, and Percy trying to reach out for the first time in ages, like all of the sudden he cared- maybe he just needed something to do.

It was Leo's fault, really. "I'll just keep moving," he'd said, with that heartbreaking, helpless kind of shrug. He'd smiled, but his eyes had been like shattered glass. "What else can you do, right? He's not coming back. I wasn't there, and that's that. And it never hurts as much when I've got a project to focus on, y'know?"

It was a hopeless endeavor. But Nico had brought one person back before, even if it wasn't the person he meant to. Who else could say that? Maybe... just maybe, he could do it again.

What Nico saw, on that journey, he'd never tell anyone. He broke his bones against the unyielding forces of the Underworld and used them like hammers and chisels, always digging deeper, always pushing further. It was no easy task to learn things about the Underworld that mortal minds had never been meant to comprehend, but it wasn't the first time he had, and so he felt like he could do it again. His father was used to him lurking around in the dark, going places no one else would have been allowed to, and his friends were equally used to him coming and going without explanation.

Hazel had her suspicions, he thought. She didn't know the Underworld as well as him, but she knew it enough to know where he'd been when he showed up on her doorstep smelling like earth, his skin pale and sallow like his skeleton was beginning to show through. He didn't tell her much, and she didn't ask much, but she was always there when he came back with something warm and spicy to chase the chill out.

If he was honest with himself, he'd been avoiding Piper since Jason died. But Leo... Something about him was easier to approach. Maybe it was because like Nico, he shouldered it on his own, and like Nico, he always seemed to exist just on the outskirts of their friendgroup, either by nature or by self-fulfilling prophecy. He understood what it was like to live without Jason, to miss him like an ache, and without meaning to, Nico had grown to find comfort in that. There was a kind of camaraderie in misery he could share with Leo that he couldn't with Hazel, where Leo would laugh at things that would surely make Hazel cry. It was easier to let Leo see the things that made him broken, because Leo didn't worry. He just understood.

He'd thought Leo didn't know. He'd never told him. Then, after one of those late nights where Nico had stumbled in with wounds he didn't know how to bandage on his own, they'd stayed up for hours while Leo baked a kind of cookie that was chocolate and spicy and burned the whole way down, because Leo always needed something to do with his hands, and somehow the burn of spice had turned into Nico's best approximation of home, grounding him when nothing else could. They'd eaten them in the quiet of the kitchen, pulling them off the pan when they were still so warm that they fell apart in Nico's fingers, gooey and melt-in-your-mouth perfect. Leo had had a furrow in his brow that Nico didn't know how to comment on, and Nico had waited it out silently, knowing that when Leo was ready to, he would speak.

In the soft light of the kitchen, at four in the morning, Leo had said, so softly that Nico almost didn't hear it, "You know I miss him too. But don't give me someone else to miss, Neeks."

It was easy to forget, sometimes, how smart Leo really was.

Nico knew the dead better than anyone. He knew the things they left behind too.

It took him one year to find Jason. The things he did in that year were things no one else would ever know, because the only person he might have told had died one year ago.

His hair had gotten so long he needed to tie it back, strands slipping from his ponytail to hang in his eyes so that he left streaks of dirt on his forehead trying to push it out again. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he was almost there. At long, long last, he was almost there.

Jason's eyes weren't as bright as they'd once been. The color had dulled, just edging on grey instead of the sky blue he remembered. There was something wrong about the way his face moved, like he couldn't quite remember what he was supposed to do with it. His teeth seemed sharper, inhuman, dangerous. Something about his body seemed more hulking, but at the same time insubstantial, like if Nico pressed his fingers into it it would dissipate.

But Jason's hands were so warm.

"Nico?" he asked, soft with wonder. There was something off about his voice, like it didn't quite register right to the ears, but it was him. The way he reached for Nico's face, his thumbs so fucking gentle as they brushed over his cheeks- the way he frowned, that adorable little furrow between his brows. "Your hair is so long."

Relief washed through Nico and ached. The sound that clawed its way from his throat was raw emotion and nothing else, half laugh, half sob. He clung to one of Jason's wrists, reaching with the other hand to touch Jason's face, to trace the curve of his brow, the scar on his lip. "You're back."

"I'm sorry I left." The corner of Jason's mouth twitched upward, sheepish and shy and warm, just the way Nico remembered it. He brushed tears from Nico's cheek, wrapping one arm around him to pull him closer.

Jason was so warm, solid and alive, and Nico couldn't help but grin through his tears, cupping the back of his head and pulling him in and down.

It was a bad kiss. They were both in desperate need of a shower, and it was hard to kiss Jason through a smile, but Jason squeezed him closer and Nico didn't even care. He kissed Jason the way he'd wanted to all year, channeling every bit of desperation and heartbreak and relief he had into it.

When he pulled back, Jason followed him, pressing their foreheads together and holding him tight, reassuring and sturdy in that way that chased out all Nico's fears every time. "You have so much to catch me up on."

Nico laughed, his hands squeezing Jason's biceps, following his arms to his shoulders, his back, his collar, taking reassurance in the fact that he was here. He was alive. He couldn't touch him enough. He couldn't kiss him enough. "I will. I promise, I will," he said, kissing the corner of Jason's mouth. "We have all the time in the world."

[julemmaes]

Robyn

Rowaelin Month, Day Ten

A/N: I'd planned on posting them in order, but you get what you get. Idk when the other prompts will come tbf. I hope soon. Anyway, I managed to write over 6k words today and I'm pretty fucking proud.

This is just fluff over fluff, so yep enjoy!!

Word count: 3,047

Rowan was unbelievably late as he sped through the streets of Orynth.

So late that the school had called not only him, but also the front desk of the place where he worked when he hadn't answered the call on his personal phone. Sorscha, his assistant, had entered his office with an embarrassed smile on her lips, as if she didn't want to tell him that he had forgotten for the umpteenth time to pick up his daughter from school.

Lorcan had joined him, for some strange reason, but Rowan had stopped bothering when it came to his best friend. He'd been trying to figure out how he reasoned for years and had come to the conclusion that there was no logical sense in the actions of the man sitting next to him, who was currently singing at the top of his lungs to one of the songs on the Frozen CD - which much to the chagrin of both of them, had gotten stuck in his car radio months before, forcing them into hours of torture.

He would never deny that the songs were all quite catchy, but after the sixteenth time Rowan had had to listen to Let It Go at maximum volume, his positive opinion of the film had begun to waver.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, Rowan noticed with deep regret that the only cars still there were those of the teachers and school staff.

They both got out of the car, Rowan walking quickly towards the entrance while Lorcan dragged behind him.

He greeted the caretakers sitting at the entrance, who returned a big smile. A smile that grew even wider when his large, imposing friend entered a few moments later. He stopped to talk to the old ladies and Rowan walked down the corridor he knew led to Robyn's classroom.

He could hear muffled voices from inside the teachers' room on the left and the one he knew belonged to Miss Galathynius coming from the right. He looked out over the classroom, spotting the two people sitting at a desk.

As soon as his daughter saw him, her eyes widened and a huge smile flashed across her face.

No words. No "hello, daddy!" or "I missed you!" from the little girl.

Her teacher turned as she leapt out of her chair and ran towards him, hugging his legs and looking up at him. Rowan smiled at her in turn, running a hand over her hair that was shot in every direction.

"Hello, little bird," he murmured to her. The child's smile widened even more if that was possible.

The woman a few feet away from them pulled herself upright, crossing her arms over her chest and offering a sincere smile to the child, who hid behind his thighs.

Rowan was about to tell her that Robyn was shy with everyone like this, ready to defend his daughter's behaviour as he was used to doing in front of every adult, but he was beaten to the punch.

"It's good to see you, Mr Whitethorn," she said, extending a hand. Rowan shook it without hesitation. "Actually, I just wanted to write you a letter regarding Robyn," she continued, never taking her eyes off the little girl. "Nothing serious," she hastened to reassure him when Rowan grimaced, "quite the contrary. Robyn is remarkably good. One of the best in the class, though I shouldn't offer that information so bluntly."

Miss Galathynius winked at him, but he couldn't process what he'd just been told.

"Sorry, could you-"

The little hands clamped around his trousers tightened a fraction more and Rowan looked down, trying to figure out what was bothering his daughter, but then something happened that he hadn't even dared to dream about in recent times.

"You're here!"

The little girl broke off and ran away from him in less than the blink of an eye.

Rowan turned just in time to see Lorcan grab Robyn in mid-air, spinning her around as he brought her to his chest and showered her with kisses. The loud, incessant laughter that erupted from her seemed too much coming from that fragile little body, but he never tired of hearing it.

"Why hello baby!" said Lorcan laughing in turn, starting to tickle her until she begun to rebel and he was forced to let her slide to the floor. Robyn was still laughing at the top of her lungs and nearly fell to the ground as she squealed left and right, letting herself be pushed around by the closest thing to an uncle she had ever had.

When Rowan turned back to the woman, she was wide-eyed and her lips slightly parted as she watched the massive man dressed completely in black and the menacing face turn into a completely different person the second he had seen Robyn.

He chuckled, "I know, it's not every day you get to see a little girl be so comfortable with a brute like that."

Lorcan, who was listening to everything, looked him straight in the eye and without stopping smiling and playing with the little girl, mouthed to him to fuck off.

"Well, yeah. You caught me a little off guard." she confessed, still shocked to hear how Robyn was having a full conversation with Lorcan. They couldn't hear anything of what she was actually saying, but even just the fact she was talking to someone seemed to have Aelin unsettled.

She returned her attention to Rowan and let out a breath that sounded more like a giggle, "I've never heard her laugh before."

He nodded, blushing a little at the teacher's surprised but relieved tone.

"I'm sure the dean warned you about the problem she has," he said in a low voice. He grimaced at her poor choice of words, "I mean, not problem, but the difficulty she finds in interacting with people she doesn't know."

Liar, he told himself. Robyn hadn't spoken to anyone but him and Lorcan since the day Lyria had died. It wasn't a difficulty, but a response to the trauma that prevented her from speaking to anyone who wasn't part of her immediate family.

"I know, I know. We've been looking for solutions together." she informed him. "I give her a white board every morning. Come on, I'll show you." she turned to the desk they were sitting at earlier and raised the magnetic board, on which a few words were scribbled on. "I'll write here what she might need. Yes. No. I need to go to the bathroom. I'm thirsty. I'm hungry." she read, listing the various options. Rowan gaped. "We've only just started going over the alphabet for a second time, so she can't really read or write yet, as I imagine you know, but the little drawings next to each sentence help her."

She continued talking, but he couldn't quite follow.

The woman in front of him - aside from being breathtakingly beautiful - had done as much as she could to help her child with communication.

"Mr. Whitethorn-"

"Rowan. Please, call me Rowan." he said, clearing his throat once he realized how hoarse it sounded to his ears. Lorcan walked up to them at that point, still holding Robyn in his arms and positioned himself next to him, letting their shoulders touch in a comforting way.

"Call me Aelin, then," she smiled at them both. Then she made a small grimace, turning to Rowan, "I wanted to ask if it bothered you, that I sought a solution like that. Maybe I put her in distress, embarrassed her. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I wanted to solve this on my own. I really wanted to discuss it with you, with your husband too, to avoid misunderstandings. Maybe we could arrange a meeting."

He was about to tell her that she had given him the exact opposite of annoyance, that he had been more than pleased that she had helped Robyn this way, when her words finally registered.

Lorcan, beside him, had opened his mouth wide and his lips were slowly bending into a mischievous smile.

Rowan furrowed his brow, "I'm sorry, what?"

Aelin's smile seemed to falter. "A meeting? With you? To talk about how to handle the situation," then she shifted her gaze to Lorcan, "You're more than welcome to join as well. I didn't know Robyn had two dads, I apologise for assuming Robyn had a mum and dad. That was very rude of me-"

"I love this," Lorcan whispered, laughing in shock. He turned to Rowan with eyes that sparkled with amusement, "I would definitely be the top."

Rowan looked at him with an expression of complete shock on his face, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Robyn gasped, opening her eyes wide and bringing a hand to her mouth, pointing then to Rowan's.

"Yeah, sorry, love. I shouldn't have said the bad word." he apologised, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He turned back to Miss Galathynius, "I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, but we're not married."

"No need to lie, sweetie. I'm sure Aelin," he gave her a knowing look, "doesn't mind at all about our relationship status."

Aelin nodded, "Well, yes. That doesn't change anything. Mr..." she turned to Lorcan, searching for a name.

"Salvaterre."

"Mr. Salvaterre can still attend. The fact that you are not yet married is no reason why you cannot both be present at the meeting. You don't have to worry, we are a very tolerant school and if anyone bothers you, you can come directly to me."

A sound of sheer glee escaped Lorcan.

Aelin continued, "I mean it. I was pleased to see both of you today. I was also pleased to see Robyn smiling so much." she concluded, looking the little one in the face.

Rowan took a deep breath, bracing himself, "No, I meant, we're not a couple. We're not gay. He's her uncle."

The woman's blonde eyebrows shot up and a second later she turned almost as red as the dress Robyn was wearing as Lorcan shook his head muttering something very much like 'you're no fun', which made Robyn giggle.

"Why did you even get off the car?" he asked him exasperated.

Lorcan shrugged, "Because I missed my little bean, you monster." he replied, clutching Robyn to his chest. The little girl clutched Lorcan's shirt in her chubby little hands and Rowan huffed, shaking his head.

Aelin brought her hands to her face, leaning against the desk behind her. She shook her head, her face still hidden, "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

Lorcan let out a dry laugh, "Don't worry about it. It was fun while it lasted." then he turned to Rowan again, who was still trying to recover from the idea of being involved in a relationship with his friend, "You're really no fun."

"Yeah, no fun dad." repeated Robyn.

Silence fell over the class. Rowan looked at her with wide eyes and blinked once, twice. Robyn was staring at him with a sweet scowl that mimicked so much that of the man who was still holding her, but Rowan couldn't get over the fact that his daughter had spoken while Aelin was still beside them.

He was about to talk, noticing how Robyn had started squirming in Lorcan's arms, when there was a knock at the door.

They both turned, Aelin peering over Rowan's shoulder, and saw the figure of a petite girl with black hair and eyes standing in the doorway, watching them with her head slightly bent to the side. She had a tag on her t-shirt that was too colourful to belong to someone who didn't work in a school with children, so he guessed she was a teacher herself. Besides, Rowan felt like he'd seen her elsewhere. Probably every day when he picked Robyn up from school, he said to himself.

"I know you're not supposed to eavesdrop but I stopped by earlier and heard you were a couple of dads," she said by way of introduction. "I just wanted to reassure you that the school is an extremely safe place. I'm the one who did most of the interviews with the parents," that's where they had met then, "and one of the questions that is asked is just about the tolerance of the people who will be attending the school."

Aelin watched her, remaining silent the whole time and putting on an amused smile, nodded, "That's what I was telling them. How tolerant the school is. They make such a cute couple, don't you think, Elide?"

Rowan turned to her, arching an eyebrow, silently asking her what she was doing. The woman, as if she could truly understand what he was trying to convey to her, nodded her head towards Lorcan, who Rowan only then noticed was standing weirdly, his eyes fixed on the woman in the doorway.

He grinned, deciding to take his revenge right away. "Oh, yes. Thank you so much for the reassurance," Rowan began to play along as well. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lorcan turn towards him, dropping Robyn to the floor, who made a disapproving noise at being dumped so suddenly. "We are happy to know that this school is a safe place for our daughter. And for us."

Elide offered him a blinding smile, "Good. I'm happy to hear that you are pleased so far. And I am happy that Aelin is the one who is taking your daughter's class. She's the best one here."

Rowan didn't know her yet, but he knew the thing Elide had just said could only be true.

"Well," she said again, giving them an apologetic smile, "I really must go now, but if you need anything, you can find all my contact details on the website. Have a nice day!"

Aelin and Rowan said their goodbyes, thanking her. Lorcan took a while to recover, but when he realised he was staring into empty space he ran towards the door, almost stepping on little Robyn, who was moved by Aelin.

"We are very much not gay, miss!" he shouted into the hallway. Aelin, now beside him and with a hand on Robyn's shoulder, cackled. With Lorcan's infinite luck, someone walked by just then and gave him a stern look. "Oh, shut up ma'am. I'm an ally. The best ally."

Rowan shook his head as Lorcan launched himself in pursuit of the poor teacher and burst out laughing when he heard him shout, "I'm not homophobic! I'm willing to suck someone's cock if I have to prove it to you!"

Aelin opened her mouth wide before bursting out laughing in turn.

Robyn, seeing both adults so happy, giggled too and Rowan bent down to pick her up. The little girl laid her full head of white-light hair on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

She was tired and Rowan really needed to get her home to sleep.

He glanced at Aelin and reduced his lips to a thin line, "I'm sorry about the commotion, I'll try not to bring him into the building again. Even if it means tying him to the seat."

The soft laugh she gave made something tighten in his chest. He frowned.

Aelin didn't seem to notice the effect she had on him, "Don't worry, Elide is crazy about fools like him. If he says the right things, we might start seeing each other outside of school too."

Rowan nodded, now too caught up in the thought of having to take Robyn home to focus on anything else.

They agreed on when to hold the parent-teacher meeting and then he grabbed Robyn's backpack, walking towards the exit.

He was thoughtless as he reached into his pocket for his keys and balanced everything else - including the girl - on his other arm, but when Robyn's hand brushed his cheek, he looked down and his eyes met their twins. Green against green.

"What is it?"

The little girl's voice never stopped making him smile. Each time was like the first time she had said dada.

"I really like her."

Rowan frowned, "Who?"

"Miss Aelin." she whispered, almost as if she was afraid they might hear her.

He smiled at her, "Yeah? You like her?"

"She's nice to me."

Rowan had to put her down as he opened the door and let her get into the back seats by herself.

"I'm glad she's treating you well, love," he let her know, buckling her in.

He hoped she'd tell him more about her new teacher, but like any kid her age, the topic of conversation couldn't last for more than four lines apiece, "Where's Uncle Lorcan?"

Rowan snorted, "No idea, little bird."

Robyn nodded, "Elide is pretty too."

And as if those words had summoned him, Lorcan appeared beside the car, making them both scream. He entered the car in a heartbeat and turned to his daughter, who was still settling into the seat. "Do you know Miss Lochan?"

But before she could answer him, Rowan had entered the car in turn and smacked the back of his head, which made the Robyn giggle, "You're not using my daughter as your wingman. Now stop it and buckle up."

Lorcan gave him a gentle push, before doing as he was told and for once he was happy he'd convinced him to do something.

Or at least, Rowan thought he had convinced him.

"What if I left you a note to deliver to Miss Lochan, Rob? Would you be up for it?"

Rowan knew, even without looking at her, that she was nodding emphatically.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he murmured, "Could you stop calling my daughter Rob, please? You'll give her an existential crisis."

Lorcan clicked his tongue against his palate, "Rowan, I'm not giving her a damn thing. We live in this new world, okay? Your daughter could be called Simon and still be a beautiful princess. Grow up and educate yourself before you talk shit."

"Aaaah!" shouted Robyn, "Bad word!"

Rowan sighed and shook his head, but still he was smiling.

This was his life. Had been for the past two years.

And he wouldn't change it for the world.

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[piningbuddies]

27 + buddie? ❤❤

omg this is so cute yes absolutely, i hope you like it!! this was meant to be like...300 words max and it just got away from me oops so enjoy 1000 words of fluff!

send me a number and a prompt!

27. “I want you to be happy. And I would love it to be with me.”

eddie knew buck like the back of his hand. he knew the way he liked to take his coffee (with a single splash of creamer and sugar if he was sleepy), he knew his favourite pizza toppings (pepperoni, ham, red onion) and he knew which side of the bed he liked to sleep on (the right, curled up into a tiny ball, his hair the only thing above the blanket).

eddie knew a lot about buck, but in this moment? he didn't know what to think. he could feel the weight of buck's gaze on him, burning holes into the side of his face. it made him shift a little in his seat, unsure of what to think. finally, he turned to buck when he couldn't stand it any longer, taking a swig of his beer. "penny for your thoughts?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

buck's eyes widened fractionally as he chewed on his bottom lip in the way he did when eddie knew he was a bit nervous, picking at the label on his empty beer bottle. "i...need to talk to you about something." he started, looking away from eddie as he placed the bottle down on the coffee table.

eddie sat up a little straighter, leaning forward to switch the tv off that neither of them were watching before turning himself fully towards buck. "okay," he started slowly, letting his arm rest along the back of the couch, his fingertips grazing buck's shoulder, "what's going on?"

the silence between them fell like a weighted curtain as buck tried to gather his thoughts, a slight crease appearing between his brows as he tried to figure out where to begin. he was fiddling with his fingers, hooking and twisting them around eachother like he was scrabbling for grip, another sure fire sign that he was nervous and, okay, eddie was starting to get nervous now. he'd never seen buck quite this jittery, like a current was running through his veins.

he let a few more seconds pass, and then said softly, "hey, we can always do this another ti-"

"i'm pretty sure i'm in love with you." he blurted out, a hand clamping over his mouth and his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. eddie froze, his mind running a million miles an hour, a million thoughts running through his head all at the same time. he felt lost, trying to grab onto something coherent as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly, he was begging internally for something to come out, something that made sense, but what ended up coming out was:

"why now?"

buck let out a frantic laugh, a shaky hand combing through his hair as he looked anywhere but actually at eddie. “i- i just- remember that call the other day? it just- it got me thinking about, what if that was it, you know? what if i never got to say it? what if that gunshot didn’t miss? what would i do in a world without you? who would i be in a world without you? and i just- words left unsaid is a terrifying concept, you know?” eddie simply swallowed deeply, nodding silently as he tried to organise his thoughts, a small wave of panic overtaking him as he tried to figure out what to say.

because buck knew him better than anyone, of course he did, he could see the panic in eddie’s eyes, see the way he didn’t know what to say, and his posture softened slightly as he placed a hand on eddie’s arm. eddie could feel the heat from buck’s skin burning through the fabric of his shirt, and he was still trying to fit together the pieces of a puzzle when he didn’t know what he was meant to be making as buck spoke. “hey, eds, this isn’t meant to pressure you in any way. i know that this is a lot to take in, and i know that it’s a big thing to think about. it’s not just you after all, it’s chris, it’s your whole life that would change.” buck was quiet for a moment, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and looking directly into what seemed to be eddie’s soul, getting down into his very core and in that moment, eddie knew. he just knew, he felt it permeating every atom in his body. and then, just as eddie was about to speak, buck whispered, so quietly it could’ve gotten lost on the breeze.

“i want you to be happy,” he said, and eddie knew he meant it. buck paused, shifting closer to eddie, their knees bumping together and a hand landing on eddie’s shoulder in an all too familiar gesture. “and i would love it to be with me.”

a silence descended once again, settling over the pair of them like a well worn in blanket. eddie felt buck start to move his hand back in a gesture that looked and felt a lot like accepting defeat and well eddie, he didn’t like to lose. he liked to fight and he liked to win. so the instant he felt buck beginning to pull back, he surged forward, gripping buck’s cheeks and pulling him into a bruising kiss.

eddie felt buck freeze in shock and he pulled back, mortification sweeping over him in a wave. “buck, i am so sorry.” he breathed, his eyes wide in terror. “i don’t know what came over me-“

he was cut off by buck this time, pressing a kiss much gentler than his own to eddie’s lips, a soft smile on his face the entire time. eddie had always found buck’s smiles contagious, and so he couldn’t help but smile along, his grin widening with each passing moment until they had to stop kissing to laugh quietly. pressing one more kiss to buck’s mouth, eddie pulled back, tilting his head and noticing the way the blush creeps up buck’s neck, looking forward to being able to get to know new sides of buck.

“i’m never happier than i am with you.” he confessed, and buck knew it was true.

[zi-i-think]

Practicing

Pairing: Jade West x fem!reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 1800+

Warnings: mention of drugs

Request: no

AN: I know I’m still not done with requests, but I just really wanted to get in a Jade West oneshot. I don’t think Jade is out of character all that much, but I’d love feed back.

          Things sucked. Like. They royally sucked.

         When Beck and Jade broke up for the second time, it felt like a dark, ominous was looming over the group of talented teens. No one needed to be a genius to realize that both Jade and Beck with miserable. Not just because they were no longer together, but the breakup was emotionally draining.

         And despite it all, y/n couldn’t help but feel a little bit hopeful. She and Jade had been friends since middle school when Jade pushed a boy off his seat because he was bullying Y/n. They were pretty different. Actually very different personality-wise. Y/n was what Jade described as a hippie fairy. Which contrasted Jade’s vampire personality completely. 

         But there were just enough similarities to keep them together. Their hatred for the patriarchy. Interests in a feel-good green herb. They both started practicing Wicca together. And they were killer on the mic.

         It was a fine balance. 

         And over the years, Y/n couldn’t help but fall for the girl. Snarling personality and all. 

         She still recalls when Jade and Beck started dated. How at first she just thought she was annoyed at how Jade didn’t spend as much time with her but later realized that she was indeed feeling jealous.

         She knew it was terrible to be glad they’re no longer together, but she couldn’t help it.

         The first thing she saw when she approached her locker was the dark clothed girl waiting for her; standing cooly against the wall of lockers.

         “Morning.” Y/n greeted her with a smile. Jade hummed her greeting in response, waiting for her friend to get her things from the locker. “How you doing?” Jade sent her a glare, knowing that Y/n what trying to get her to talk about the breakup.Y/n mumbled a “nevermind” and closed the locker.

         “Do you have plans later?” Jade grumbled as the two started to walk to Sicowitz’s class.

         “Uh, yeah. I’m finishing up my script for my play.”

         “The one about the girl who turns into a dragon and then the prince who’s supposed to save her kills her on accident.”

         “That’s the one,” Y/n finger-gunner. “I’m trying to figure out how to make the finally really pull at the heartstrings.”

         “Make it gruesome,”

         “I’ll make a note of it.” 

         The class was already about to start by the time they entered and most people were engaged in their own conversations. Y/n saw Jade and Beck make eye contact. The same longing look on their faces. But stubbornness kept either of them from saying anything.

         “Hey, uh do you want to come over? Help me with the play?” Y/n asked, getting Jade’s attention again.

         “Sure. It’s not like I have any plans.” Jade shrugged before taking a seat upfront.

         Y/n smiled and took the seat next to her friend. A nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach grew as she already started to expect her friend’s arrival.

         “Good day, class!” The eccentric teacher barged into the room. “Your a pack or wolves engaged in a dance party!” He announced, prompting the teans to get up from their seats and act out the prompt.

         Knock Knock Knock

         The front door of Y/n’s house sounded. With a furrowed brow and her hair still wet, the girl opened the door revealing Jade with two coffees

         “You’re early,” Y/n stated the obvious.

         “Only cause I got bored. Now you want your coffee or not?” The dark haired girl outstretched her arm to hand her the tall cup.

         Y/n smiled appreciativly, taking the cup and stepping to the side.

         “Alright. So what does your play need?” Jade asked, already getting down to business. She walked straight to the living room and plopped herself on the blanketed couch.

         “Well, uh. It's mainly the last scene. Where the dragon turns back into a maiden and the prince realizes what he's done.” Y/n described, sitting next to Jade and grabbing the laptop from the coffee table.

         “Ah, so it’s angsty.” Jade smiles and leaned closer to Y/n to get a look at the document with the script.

         “Yeah.” Y/n’s voice cracked as she tried to compose herself over her friends close proximity. “So, I was thinking that once he realizes his mistake, he holds her close. I want him to have a monologue. Describing how he'd never get the chance to talk to her, see her, you know typical human relationship things.”

         “Alright so what's the problem?” Jade asked, not seeing why Y/n needed her there. Not that she was mad, she loved being around her. And truthfully, she missed hanging out and not having Beck in the back of her mind.

         “It just feels like it's missing something. You know.” Y/n said with a tinge of frustration in her voice. “Like. There's something that isn't making the plot complete enough for him to have that monologue. He loves her, but it doesn't feel like he does enough.”

         Without warning, Jade took the laptop from her lap.

         “I’ll read it.” she grumbled. “You go dry your hair or something.”

         “Good idea.” Y/n agreed, leaving the couch and beading back to her bathroom.

         “And order a pizza!” She heard Jade shout.

         It didn’t take long for Y/n to dry her hair and put the pizza order in. And by the time she got back into the living room, Jade was finished with reading over the script. Instead, she was now holding her new pair of scissors and examining the blades.

         “Figure anything out?” Y/n asked, getting the girl’s attention.

         “Yeah.” Jade put down the scissors and turned her body to face Y/n as she came in and sat down. “Your characters don’t kiss.”

         Y/n month dropped and she bit her bottom lip awkwardly.

         “Well, I was thinking about putting one in, but I thought it would be better if there weren’t one. Think about the symbolism behind it. Without the action, it’s expressing how the two never truly experienced being together.” She explained.

         Jade hummed and nodded as if she were understanding.

         “That’s stupid.” she said. Somehow both calmly and aggressively. Y/n furrowed her brow and tilted her head. Asking without words for Jade to go on. “Y/n the script is good, the storyline is paced well, blah blah blah. But the only thing that isn't good is the way you're presenting that they are in love. You want the audience to be heartbroken for the guy, show them that he loved her.”

         “Okay, so, where do you recommend it goes?” Y/n asked, grabbing the laptop and scrolling through.

         “Obvious. Scene 4, during the confession, I think after she falls from the tree.” Jade said. Y/n quickly went there and read it over, thinking about how to go about it.

         “You don't think it's a little fast?” Y/n asked, twisting her face as unsureness creeped into her mind.

         “Course not. You've already presented their infatuation for each other, and after that scene their relationship is already escalating more quickly. If anything it makes more sense.”

         She was right. Y/n knew it. But she couldn't shake the fact that having this discussion with Jade felt unreal. Perhaps because Y/n was crushing on her, but also because while Jade was very knowledgeable in entertainment, relationships were more of a ‘on the surface’ knowledge.

         Typing quickly the placement of the kiss, Y/n let out a heavy breath.

         “And it’s in.” She announced mainly for herself.

         “Good.” Jade nodded, now smirking at her friend. “You wanna see how it flows with the scene?”

         Y/n kept scrolling down the document to the ending, avoiding looking at the vampiresque girl.

         “Uh, ” She cleared her throat to avoid cracking her voice. “What do you mean?”

         “Well do the scene, me and you. As then you can make the final choice on whether you like it or not.” Jade explained casually.

         “Yeah, okay. We can do that.”

         Despite sounding calm and nonchalant on the outside, Y/n was screaming on the inside. Surely Jade wasn't actually intending on kissing her right? They’d work up to it and then stop, right? No kiss?

         “Cool, I'll be the guy and do you have it all memorized?” Jade started, grabbing the laptop and placing it on her lap.

         “Yep, it's all in my noggin.” Y/n knocked on her head awkwardly, receiving a disapproving look from Jade.

         “I’ll start at the beginning of the confession.” The dark haired girl announced, reading the lines. Then she looked up, right into Y/n’s eyes. “Tell me, Ayleth, do you feel what I feel.”

         “Why, I'm not quite sure what you mean, my prince.” Y/n continued, swallowing her nervousness.

         “When you look into my eyes, do you as well feel that fire? The one raging inside of your heart and coursing through you. Making you think illogically, wanting nothing more than to be consumed completely by you.”

         “One shouldn't think illogically. One must think about their duties, their-”

“That wasn't the question.” Jade acted, her usual roughness and anger dropped as she said her lines. “Do you love me?”

         “I suppose it would be unwise to try to divert the conversation.”

         “Most unwise. Especially to your prince.”

         “Well. Yes. I believe I do.”

         There was silence between the two. This was where the kiss was written. In the quiet, they both seemed to be questioning whether they would actually kiss or not. They both leaned in, slowly but surely. Y/n’s heart sped up and she wondered whether Jade was feeling the same. No, of course not. It's part of the scene. She's just acting, obviously.

         The inches between them soon turned to fractions of an inch. And their lips were so close to meeting.

         Knock knock knock.

         They were interrupted by the door. “Y/n pulled away immediately.

         “Pizza. I’ll get it.” She chuckled nervously and got up.

         “They can wait.” Jade said instead. She grabbed Y/n’s wrist and pulled her back down on the couch.

         Before Y/n knew it, Jade placed a firm kiss on Y/n’s lips. Though shocked, Y/n quickly reciprocated the kiss. Jade placed her hand on Y/n’s cheek, while the other girl’s hand went to Jade’s waist. By now, Y/n’s heartbeat was going a million miles per minute and both girls forgot about the person waiting at the door.

         Until they knocked again.

         “Give us a minute!” Jade shouted angrily before turning back to her, uh friend? Y/n was giggling at her rage over small things like that. Jade noticed not only that her dark blue lipstick had smudged onto Y/n’s face, but that she also had a deep red blush that covered her face almost completely.

         “Should we practice again?” Jade asked instead of bring it up. And when Y/n nodded, she didn’t waste another second to lean in again, kissing her with more depth than the one before.

[cherry-lipbalm]

a son of a bitch in a camper van. spencer reid.

3.9k words.

masterlist

the gif’s a bit blurry yet he’s still endearing x

in which things happen just like that.

Local law enforcement, accompanied by the BAU, have been sitting in a besieging of this goddamn camper van for so long now that the majority of them were highly considering setting up a tent. If it hadn't been already, it sure as hell was scraping up to be a long night.

Spencer couldn't feel his feet, and he had given up on aiming his gun at the RV a long time ago. The sheriffs had been handing out fold-up chairs for those who were observing any potential activity and hadn't resorted to lounging in their cars.

Morgan had offered his to Spencer, who took it gratefully after he got up from falling on his ass when Derek pulled it out from under him. Spencer was only just about to jump on him when they spotted Hotch's glare from over his shoulder. This is a crime scene they could practically hear him say, so Spencer settled for a harsh shove on his colleague's arm and they left it at that.

And that was probably the most exciting thing to have happened over the course of this man-watch; and that was... three hours ago, now? Time, at this point, had become unsubstantial.

"Are we sure he's even still in there?" Morgan asked, gesturing to the derelict camper van a few yards away from them. He had retrieved another chair, and was sat behind the barricade of police cars, but nonetheless held tightly onto the gun resting in his lap.

"I think so," Spencer squinted over the red and blues, assessing the vehicle. If you could even call it that; the thing was basically crumbling to pieces. As much as he believed it, he couldn't comprehend how someone was actually in there, and for so long. It looked uninhabitable.

"The whole thing’s surrounded," a new voice interjected into the conversation, "he went in, and hasn't come out. Detectives say they can see him walking about now and then."

Morgan and Reid both turned in their chairs. If the dire situation surrounding them wasn't so obvious, one could have easily believed they were on a fishing trip of some sorts, except one should know that Morgan had already taken Spencer fishing once, and the result was... eventful, to say the least. A trip to the ER and five stitches later, Reid vowed to never do anything with Morgan ever again.

"Hey, sugar. How you holdin' up?" Morgan greeted, relaxing back into his not-so-relaxing chair.

Y/N sighed, a guttural groan emitting from the exudation of her breath. She looked up to the sky, and was thankful that at least they had a pretty night to look at, because this guy was not moving any time soon.

Reid and Morgan both assessed her as she stepped out from behind their set-up, coming out of the shadows almost menacingly, into the light of police sirens and the distant lamp beaming from inside the camper van.

"I'd be holding up a lot better if this bastard did something," she said. Her feet crunched the soil as she grabbed a spare chair and planted it next to Spencer. He tried to resist the urge to pull back her chair. Emphasis on the word tried.

When Y/N's bum didn't connect with the seat, the realisation hit her too late and all she could do was let out a yell while she headed straight for the ground.

"Oh, you dick!" She cried when she plummeted into the grass. Looking at her mud-ridden hands in disgust, she didn't hesitate to wipe it on Spencer's beloved dress shirt, making sure to taint his sweater vest too.

"Hey! Hey!" He retracted frantically, shoving himself into the side of his chair to get away from Y/N and her hands that could deposit any more Earth onto him. All the while, Morgan laughed his head off, almost facing the same fate as Y/N when his chair leaned back from his laughing fit.

"Children," Hotch called, reprimanding them over Y/N's grimaces and the boys' amusement, which quickly ended when they saw the Unit Chief striding over.

"Did you see that, Hotch? That's harassment in the workplace!"

"Can I please remind you that we are on a crime scene. We are the FBI, and no doubt are going to make a lasting impression on local law enforcement, is this really how you want to be remembered?"

The three fell into sullen expressions, bowing their heads ashamedly as to not make eye contact with him. But Morgan was still snickering subtly behind his hand, and Spencer was biting down on his lip to avoid a sudden burst of laughter that he knew would be more than inevitable while they were being scolded due to the pseudobulbar effect; he'd explain it to them when they were no longer being rebuked.

Eventually Hotch did walk away, leaving them with a castigating glare Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to shake. In response, she took the subsequent silence as an opportunity to slap Spencer on the arm, hard.

"Ow!" He hushed, immediately rubbing his bicep where he was sure a bruise would be forming. If he wasn't aching he would be impressed that she managed to inflict so much pain from so low down.

"Nice one, you got me in trouble with Hotch!" She hissed. Derek had resumed laughing.

"Sorry, teacher's pet," Spencer called her. Then, whispered here we go to himself at what he had just unavoidably instigated.

"Coming from you?" Morgan and Y/L/N said simultaneously, a snark tone to their words. He pursed his lips and looked to them blankly, rolling his eyes at their unified laughter.

They all eased a bit after that, despite the wake of Hotch's wrath. Spencer pulled Y/N up from the ground, and then began to aid her in wiping the soil from her trousers, prompting an awkward encounter when he realised his hand was right on her ass. She gave him a glare, and he raised his muddy hands in surrender while he sat back down, leaving her to do it herself.

When she was somewhat clean, she dragged her chair back and sat in it, pointing a warning finger in Spencer's face as she did so to let him know not to try anything sneaky.

When she relaxed, Y/N thought the scenery was quite nice; get rid of the police cars, black SUVs and the serial killer less than ten metres away from them and it could make for an ideal holiday destination. All they needed was a couple of beers and a bonfire.

Ah, fire. Warmth! Y/N was beginning to forget what it felt like. She wrapped herself further into the complimentary FBI jacket she'd been given upon her arrival to the team. It made for cool recognition, and got her into a lot of places, but, god, did it do fuck all for practical thermal purposes.

"You're cold?" Spencer queried when he noticed her enveloping her arms around herself.

"Freezing," she replied.

"You should go in the car. Emily put the heating on in there earlier, it'll be warm now."

"What? And leave all the fun for you guys? Over my dead body," she turned her head to shoot him a smirk. He inhaled deeply, faltering a smile in her direction and let a comfortable silence fall between them. Y/N even painted on a genuine grin for him, and let the blush she felt warm her up from the cold.

The next few minutes after this go very quickly, but from what Y/N can barely grasp, it goes like this: the camper van's door is thrown open, and out comes this beast of a man who, if he had them, would have had guns blazing. This is evident from his demeanour; the word beast did not originate from his physique, no, he is a fragile, small boy, but the way he is yelling and screaming is nothing of the juvenile sort. And so, he is doing his yelling and screaming and, frankly, taking no prisoners.

All he has on him is a revolver, but it's enough for every police officer and agent to swing into action. Spencer and Morgan's chairs both fall to the ground upon the abruptness of how they suddenly stand, guns drawn. Y/N is already one step ahead of them, and fails to shield herself from their unsub behind any car door like everyone else had the sense to; even if he were without weapons, they were facing the human embodiment of the word danger.

Spencer shouts at Y/N to defend herself, but she pretends she doesn't hear because this bastard made her wait four hours in the freezing cold, the least she could do was have an eye on him, so Spencer takes her cover.

Which turns out to be the fault in this story, because Spencer loves Y/N. And anyone with a pair of eyes can see it and, unfortunately for them, their unsub happened to have a pair of eyes.

He sees the way this pipe cleaner of a man is aiming his gun at him so determinedly, and how his gaze is switching between him and this girl in a frivolous FBI jacket. And he's already blissfully aware that there's no way he is getting out of here alive, but if he is going down then he's sure as hell taking someone with him. He only has one bullet and figures it's a 2 for 1 deal judging by the way pipe-cleaner man is so obviously in love with shitty-jacket girl. And then next thing anyone knows is Y/N is on the ground again but this time a bullet has buried itself in her chest.

Spencer takes the shot, and then a few more even though their unsub has fallen to the ground. And as much as he wants to rush over to Y/N he knows he doesn't have the emotional capacity to see what state she is in, but what he does have is rage, and a whole lot of it, so he just keeps on shooting. He's already dead but that doesn't matter. He keeps shooting until his barrel is empty and Hotch is pulling him away.

A detective approaches the unsub, even though his fate is more than assured, while a flurry of people surround Y/N, falling to her side, but she's only asking for one.

"Spencer," she utters. It hurts for her to talk or even breathe but she knows the pain will only continue so she pays the small price of adding to it in order to make sure Spencer is by her side for the remainder of it all.

Morgan grabs the boy, shakes him from his trance and then pushes him through the crowd so he can kneel beside Y/N. The squelching noise of his trousers drenching in her blood almost makes him vomit, but he swallows it down for Y/N's sake. He already covered her in mud, he knows better than to be sick on her too.

"Y/N," his voice trembles, but the way he turns to shout at the people around him is so full of strength and fury that people jump immediately into action. He yells for an ambulance, even though there's already one on scene and it's just behind them, but what else can he do?

"I'm fine," Y/N manages, "I'm fine."

She was not, indeed, fine.

She tries to scramble to her feet, but finds she can't even attempt sitting up without a pain searing throughout her whole body, ripping her nerves apart like resolute Velcro.

"It's alright," Spencer says, panicked as he tries to keep her from hurting herself. He brushes the blood-stained hair from her face but regrets it when he sees how it's contorted in pain. Thankfully, she soon relaxes, until he realises that's not a good thing at all.

"No, no, Y/N, stay with me alright? Can you do that? Listen to me!"

So he's yelling at the girl he loves, which is no use because she can't hear him and her eyes are already closed. He's so desperate that he pushes her eyelids open himself, but what lies underneath is unresponsive. He holds his hand tightly over what pulse she has left.

Y/N is dying in Spencer's arms. And she can't help but think that if she was to go, she wouldn't mind it to be here and now. But, with what lingering conscious remains, she realises it wouldn't be her who would have to face the repercussions of her death, it would be her friends. Her family. Spencer.

Spencer who had done nothing but love her ferociously ever since they had met; silently and from afar, but passionately nonetheless. She loved him too correspondingly and too much to kill him with the grief.

So she takes a breath.

But he doesn't even have a chance to say goodbye, never mind ask to go in the back of the ambulance with her when she is ripped from his grasp and placed onto the gurney. The ambulance doors slam close and he forgets what it feels like to move. Morgan's hand on his shoulder feels foreign, and when he does eventually move, it's a surge of chaos.

Their unsub isn't receiving any medical attention, because Reid sorted that out irrefutably, so there's really not that many people around and Morgan isn't even fully aware to stop him when Spencer steals his gun from his holster and marches to the corpse lying in the grass. Surrounded by the greenery, the son of a bitch looks almost peaceful so, when Spencer is unloading the bullets on him, he makes sure to add a few in his face for good measure.

This time, no one stops him.

———

"How is she?" JJ asks, who's only just arrived at the hospital in a hurry after receiving the call. She's pretty tenacious considering the situation, especially when you compare her to the ball of pink and panic standing next to her.

"Is she alright? Oh, God, please let her be alright," Garcia utters. She's straight in Derek's arms, who's been crying but to no one's acknowledgement because they all decided they need to be strong, for Y/N's sake. Still, it doesn't stop JJ shedding a few tears from moment to moment.

"She's in surgery," is all Hotch says, because it's all he knows. One minute he was scolding her to get off the ground and the next he was begging her to.

JJ takes a seat immediately next to Emily, and they unanimously clutch onto each other's hands. Opposite them, Morgan and Garcia do the same. It is here that JJ realises the person who should probably be in the company of his friends the most, isn't.

"Where's Spence?"

"Bathroom," Morgan tells her. "He's been in there a while. Won't talk to anyone."

So when Spencer does come out, almost on cue a few seconds later, everyone stands up attentively and tries to decide whether they will ignore his red eyes. They do, and Spencer sits down in a chair next to Morgan. He virtually collapses into his side.

Morgan is reminded of their fishing trip turned ER trip a few months prior. From the way Spencer is resting dependently on his shoulder, the days are identical, except this time Spencer's pain isn't physical and can't be fixed with five stitches.

Everyone looks at Spencer with evident pity, so he burrows himself further into Morgan's t-shirt. When Derek feels the wet indication of tears, he stands up with an arm wrapped around his shoulders and says "let's take a walk".

Spencer doesn't want to, but he's already reached the grieving stage and his body and mind are no longer connected. The only way in which they are associated is that Spencer's mind is mush and his limbs are moving so similarly sluggishly that Morgan is verging on dragging him along the hallways.

Just when Spencer is thinking that Morgan has really just brought him to aimlessly wander the corridors, his friend stops him and holds onto his shoulders. He notices how he has to look away for a moment because he never really managed to register just how bloodshot his eyes were.

"Listen here, pretty boy. You got a girl in there who is fighting for her life. She is, without a doubt, scared, okay? So you need to be strong for her and for yourself, alright? And when she pulls through, because she will, you've gotta take that strength, and you've gotta use it," Morgan said. He was prodding a finger to Spencer's chest to try and get his message across, but he had no idea what that message entailed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you gotta get your girl, man," his shoulders dropped.

Spencer's face portrays a small smile like he always does when he's hopeless, and his mutterings are almost drowned out by the incessant beeping of hospital machinery, but Morgan catches them.

"What if I don't get a chance to?"

They're interrupted then, much to Morgan's gratitude, because he really didn't know how he was going to respond to that.

Hotch is at the end of the hallway, his chest rising quickly in a pant. Spencer fears the worst.

"She's out."

And suddenly, nothing else matters. Not to Spencer, at least. He shoots off down the hallway like a rock in a catapult; so quickly that Morgan doesn't even ascertain his disappearance until the news has sunk in and he's chasing after him too.

He keeps thinking that. Nothing else matters, nothing else matters. He repeats the mantra in his head while he meanders frantically through the halls; he lost sight of Hotch a while ago when he raced past him and now he's realised he doesn't even know where Y/N is. Nothing else matters he justifies when he bumps into a nurse during his frenzy and doesn't have the time nor consideration to apologise.

When he reaches a small empty square, with four hallways sprouting from it, he cradles his hands behind his head and tries to control his breathing; something he's forgotten how to do correctly. He steps forward, hoping his feet will just know where to go.

Somehow, they do.

He's only taken one step, but when he advances into the hallway to his right, he hears someone breathe his name; it's weak, and feeble, but he'd know her voice anywhere.

His mouth is already agape when he looks over. The door is wide open, just like his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear-stricken astonishment. Inside the room the team is crowded around the bed, looking down on the fragile agent.

Just like before, he forgets what it feels like to move. His feet are stuck in place and even though his mind is racing there is no telling his limbs to do... anything. So, for now, he just peers into the room. Y/N's eyes are begging him to enter but he can't bring himself to do it. If he walks in that means it's real. The heart monitor, the bandages, the dried blood coating her neck that the nurses missed in their clean up: it's all real.

"Reid, trust me. This is a hell of a better ending, okay? This is the one you want," Morgan clasps his hand down on Spencer's shoulder, hissing to him to try and spark some kind of unlikely reaction, but to no avail. Spencer didn't even realise Morgan and Hotch had caught up to him.

He enviously watches them enter the room with such ease. They kiss Y/N's cheek and hug her close. Morgan leans his hands on the end of the hospital bed and tries to talk to her, but she's only looking at Spencer with betrayal in her eyes.

Before Spencer can whisper a futile apology and rush out of the hospital, his brain almost goes into override, suddenly providing him with all the reasons he should do anything but that.

He sees Y/N's face, the way she smiled at him before. The way she's always smiled at him. He hears her laughter, feels her touch. He feels the warmth he experiences whenever she is near. And suddenly, again, nothing else matters.

Nothing but you.

Hotch instinctively lets a hand hover over his holster due to the precipitous manner Spencer barges into the room with. The sole of his shoes squeak against the floor in his hurry and Y/N would grimace if she had the space to because next thing she knows Spencer's lips are on hers and his hands are encasing her face in a way that doesn't make her feel claustrophobic like she always thought it would.

She can't help but think how embarrassing it is that her coworkers are watching this scene unfold —her boss too, and she knows he'll probably be obliged to give them some talk about appropriate behaviour between colleagues, but she doesn't care. Nothing else matters but Spencer.

He doesn't stop there, Spencer wants to kiss her more and Y/N is more than happy to allow it. Her fingers can only fondle the wrinkle of his shirt because it hurts to much to raise her arms, but Spencer is practically lying on top of her and she can get a good feel of his torso through the clothing. His warmth radiates onto her and she hums happily against his lips. When he begins to pull away, she grabs onto his tie and doesn't let him.

She thinks a few of the team have turned around, because it's eerily silent except for a few sniggers from —who she assumed— Morgan, and excited squeals from —who she knew was— Garcia.

When Spencer pulled away, successfully this time, he let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"For what?"

"I should have covered you."

"Shut up. From what I've heard you covered me pretty well," she said, and Spencer knew she had been told about his vengeful face-shooting incident. He bowed his head, and smiled weakly when Y/N pulled him back up from his tie. It became less weak when she pecked his lips.

"I'm okay," she whispered to him, like they were the only ones in the room, "we're okay. He's gonna rot for it."

Spencer nodded, and what he couldn't say in words he made up for in affection: his kisses were short, but none lacked the passion that was necessary to tell her how he felt. She felt every one of his kisses throughout her body. Where her chest ached with the pain of being shot now burned with a feverish love for Spencer.

"I, uh, I am going to have to hold a seminar on fraternisation next week," Hotch leaned forward to interject, which worked a treat in eliciting the laughter needed to brighten the mood.

Those that had turned swirled back on their heels and beamed at the new couple. Spencer sat on the edge of Y/N's bed, his hands encased around hers and resting on his lap. They exchanged assuring glances momentarily within the soft conversations of the team.

When Y/N looked up to Spencer again she smiled, and he knew she was thinking the same thing as himself: these people matter, and you, you matter the most.

fin.

[mooniefics]

— the hands that beckon me

pairing : zeke jaeger / reader

word count : 1.9k

tags : emotional hurt / comfort, relationship discussion, pillow talk, insecure zeke :(

summary : zeke is finally home, on a brief layover from the war, and you both finally get around to having that tough discussion you've been putting off for far too long.

— originally posted 1 / 21 / 21 on ao3 —

"what do you do while i'm gone?"

your skin was still hot from being pressed over his when he asked, thrumming with a warmth you hadn't felt yet craved so deeply for months. you turned to face him from your place on your back in bed, pressing into his side, peering curiously at his profile. you'd missed seeing him like this, out of his ironed, pristine uniform, hair messy from your fingers running through it, sharp features warmed with the flush of passion, unobscured by his glasses, eyes and voice sleepy and relaxed rather than alert and tight with self-awareness.

"what do you mean?" your reply was soft, almost playful to counter his matter-of-fact delivery, reaching out to draw your fingers across his firm, bare chest.

"i mean what keeps you busy? what do you do for fun?"

>readmore<

the war with the mid-east allied forces had been dragging on for just about two years now, and there seemed to be no end in sight, but after the marleyan army managed to snatch a victory from the jaws of defeat on foreign soil, the news came to your internment zone that the soldiers would be returning on a brief layover as the countries' political leaders decided whether or not they'd be willing to smooth things over in a more peaceful manner.

this afternoon you had been there at the gates with his grandparents, barely able to stand still beside them as all three of you waited wordlessly with baited breath, balancing up on your tiptoes, straining to peek over the crowd to catch a glimpse of him. while others were stood by with looks of unmasked dread—men with clenched jaws and stiff shoulders, women with tears brimming their eyes, children tugging at sleeves and already crying with impatience—you felt an uncontainable joy. it was humbling to look around at all the panicked faces, to remember that not every family had the luxury of your confidence, the almost guaranteed certainty that the one you loved would return. but you couldn't help the blinding smile that broke out across your face as he ambled through the crowd, tired, well-kept, but looking warmly down at you and his family.

you had let him to greet them first, they were his blood relatives after all, but only after he'd finished giving his grandmother a tight hug and exchanging affectionate words did you allow yourself to throw your arms around him, burying your face into his shoulder and breathing in his rich scent of gunpowder, pine, just a faint hint of cigarettes, melting easily into his strong embrace. you and zeke had wandered back alongside the older couple to their home, sharing a calm, easy dinner where zeke relayed what information he could to them about the status of the ongoing battle, but you were just itching to have some time to yourself with him.

you'd spent hours cleaning your quaint little home a few streets down, agonizing over every little detail despite how you knew he didn't mind whatever state it was in, just that you were there. and as soon as you'd both said your friendly goodbyes and made it through the door of your home, he was pulling you along to the bedroom, legs having memorized the path of weaving through the living room and kitchen and down the hall to the door on the left.

he was impatient, as he always was when he was tugging you out of your clothes, but sensual all in the same when he pressed his lips onto yours, murmured soft, longing words in your ear, hands squeezing and grabbing, reacquainting themselves with your soft figure. you both didn't last long—how could you when you were so eager—but felt satisfied all the time after everything was said and done, lowering back onto the mattress, flushed and panting, a faint sheen of sweat shimmering over your skin. his question just now had puzzled you. it was simple, but you knew it hid something deeper, he'd never asked something of that nature in all the time he'd been coming back and going away.

"well.. not much really. i go to work at the jewelry shop, have tea with your grandmother on thursdays, wander around the market if i feel up to it, help mary from down the street with her boys if she needs it."

you faltered at the mention of her, not remembering whether you'd seen her husband when you'd met with zeke at the entrance to the zone. you forced yourself not to frown. how selfish of you, you didn't even bother to check on her before you allowed yourself to be whisked away for the night.

he seemed to notice your sudden dismay, wrapping a comforting arm around you as he spoke, "you mean aksoy?" you nodded. "he made it back on the train alright. drunk off his ass, but alive."

you breathed a small sigh of relief, offering up a small smile at him. "good to hear."

and though his lips curled back in a similar expression, it didn't quite reach his eyes, and you only felt further perturbed by how his gaze briefly flickered elsewhere. "why do you ask?" you prompted, fingers trailing up his neck to rest at his jaw, gently turning him to face you again.

"just curious, is all.."

you could sense that he was lying, but about what you didn't quite know. "come on, zeke, we've known each other since we were kids. you don't think i know when you're hiding something?"

he hummed, the corners of his eyes creasing as an easy, genuine grin graced his features. "i apologize for underestimating your lie detecting skills."

you couldn't help but giggle softly at his words, thumb stroking over his warm cheek, body fitting perfectly against his. he was really here. finally, after all this waiting, he had come back to you, even if only for a few weeks that would surely fly past in an instant.

"i don't really know how to say this.." he seemed uncharacteristically sheepish, grey eyes traversing over your face, onto a far wall of the room, then up to the ceiling for a brief moment before it finally wandered back to you, "i guess you could say it started with me feeling a bit guilty, leaving you here all by yourself."

"i can bear the wait, you know that. as long as i know that i'll get to see you." for now, came the silent addendum.

he had three years left, barely a quarter remaining in his term, but you didn't broach the topic, and he seemed just as content putting off the discussion as you were. your relationship was easy, in a sense. there was never any squabbling over when the two of you would move in, or when he would retire from his position and settle down, milestones such as marriage and children were never issues. but there were days where you wished they were, though you'd never admit it.

just like how you'd never admit to the warm burn of envy that sparked to life when a man came into the shop you worked at searching for a ring for his partner, a spark that inevitably gave way to a cool emptiness settling deep into your chest, swallowing up your heart and balling an uncomfortable lump in your throat by the time you'd helped him choose out just the perfect jewel and sent him on his way.

"i know that, but," he swallowed, licking his lips, "sometimes i'm afraid that you're getting bored."

"bored?" the word felt strangely odd on your tongue, your own eyes blinking at him.

"bored." he reaffirmed, frowning slightly as he continued, "you see other people your age—our age—every day, don't you? when you go to the market, when you're at work, hell, even when you're spending time with your friends, you see people with lives, with structure." you knew the exact words that were coming next, but the impact of them hurt all the same. "people who don't have the thought of how time is running out hanging over their head."

it was you who turned away this time, feeling your lower lip tremble, eyes suddenly watering despite how you wished not to cry. all those complicated feelings you'd pushed down in favor of relishing in your feigned ignorance, of pretending that zeke was just a normal soldier with normal duties who was just lucky enough to come back each time. you'd always politely brushed your friends off when they'd pestered you of the absence of a ring on your finger, asking when you'd have children of your own rather than always being there to help them take care of theirs, you swept their concerns aside with a rehearsed smile because you didn't want to come to terms with the fact that you wanted those things for yourself.

the pill of zeke's looming mortality was hard enough to swallow on its own, all without mentioning how the love you shared was so rich yet so fleeting, fruitful yet futile all at once. you had no words to offer him, but your silence seemed to be enough of a reply, a forlorn, almost remorseful look settling over his handsome features.

"perhaps— perhaps you should search for someone else." you felt your stomach knot and twist, sorrow bubbling up like a geyser from below, biting at your cheek as to not let your shaky breaths spill from your mouth, "you're beautiful, it would really be no trouble at all for you to find someone—someone who can give you a good life. a fulfilling life."

"but.. there's still time left, isn't there?" your voice was quiet, thick with restrained tears, "there's still time for us."

"it isn't fair to you."

"it wouldn't be fair to you either if i left now." your brows knitting together, expression strained as you felt warmth trickle down your face, dripping down your chin onto his shoulder. "do you want me to leave?"

he looked away, hesitating just enough to make more droplets bead at your lashes before he shook his head, drawing a crooked finger across your cheek to catch a few stray tears. again, that disdain at your own selfishness came. he was worried for you, ruminating own his own impending death, trying to soften the blow of it for you at the expense of his own happiness, yet all you could do was cry at the thought of parting with him in any voluntary way.

"you're the one i want." you whispered, sniffling, "i knew what i was getting into at the start of all this, the things that i would miss, the things i would have to give up on, but they can wait. i can't be without you, not if i know that i can spend a single moment longer like this, loving you."

the sun had sank low in the sky, light abandoning the two of you in the dark of your room, alone with your shared, trembling breaths, his frown and distant eyes, your tears and imploring gaze. you felt weary in many ways as you allowed yourself to settle back onto his chest, closing your eyes at the feeling of his arm tightening its grasp around you, holding you close, a silent plea to stay just as you were.

he didn't speak, not another word of uncertainty exchanged, but you knew that he understood. he was here, and as long as that was the case you would always wait, keep turning down the hands that beckoned you, rescind your domestic desires for the sake of clinging to this one rare, importunate, lovely thing you had—clinging to him.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen (chapt. 2)

[Donnie x fem reader]

Sfw, part 1 here

Intellectually, Donnie was the best matchup for their leader as today was sparring day. He'd gone against his oldest brother many times, sometimes even coming out the victor himself, but today was just not his day.

He held his staff with that iron grip of his and waited for Leo to come at him. Donnie was more on the defensive than any of his brothers; he had to be. Out of all he was weakest physically but superior in calculations, but he was missing range in this matchup. Leo had a hard time disarming him as his katana could sometimes get lodged in the solid wood staff, giving Donnie leverage to perform the finisher in the short time it took him to dislodge his sword. He thought this time would be how that would happen.

"You're slow today, Donnie," Leo said as he lunged at his brother with a swing of his katana, forcing Donnie to step back. He was too focused on blocking Leo's rapid succession of attacks to respond.

Leo reeled back to swing his blade again but Donnie parried and struck his arm with his staff, shoving it aside. For a split second, Leo actually thought he was fixing to go down by this move if Donnie could hit him again quick enough. But his brother hesitated in thought, and without any reluctance himself, he used his other katana to put him in a compromising position. The match was over and Donnie was forced to stand down.

"Why did you hesitate?" Leo questioned him, lowering his blade. Raph watched from the sidelines with Mikey as they prepared to go up next. Since Leo was the winner, it was Raph's turn next to spar in his younger brother's place.

Donnie huffed and dropped his stance, putting his staff away. "It's just an off day," he replied. Splinter wasn't there to dictate today's training session and tournament, so Donnie was already on his way out to go to his lab by the time Raph stepped up to spar. But Leo sheathed his sword and put a hand on Donnie's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"You've been pretty eager to run back to your lab lately," Leo said matter-of-factly. He was wondering what was going on, why Donnie seemed weirdly distant the last couple of weeks. He had gone through a very withdrawn phase in earlier times upon entering his teenage years, but now, he was legitimately making everyone guess. He didn't snap at his brothers, and he wasn't any more impatient than usual. But something was different. He'd been spending a lot more time holed up in his lab, which everyone began to notice. Leo wanted to know what was wrong.

Donnie shifted and shrugged, "Like I said, I've been busy with some projects. Also, it's not like I have much to do out here beside training and patrol."

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Mikey jumped on between them. "You missed game night last week! You never miss it," he butted in. Both Donnie and Leo gave him a look as if to say really? and he added in, "Well, uh...not usually."

Gently moving Mikey aside, Leo wanted to continue, but he saw Donnie staring at him expecting a follow-up when he didn't really have one. Whatever this was, Leo knew that coming at Donnie with questions was not the way to go about it. So he stepped back and gave his brother some space.

"We all have off days," Leo said finally after an awkward moment of silence. "Just work on your speed, Don."

"Got it."

With that, Donnie turned to leave, and Raph entered the ring to go against Leo in the last match of the night.

Once Donnie was gone, Leo got ready to spar with Raph. As they got into position, he contemplated bringing this recent development up with the other two, but decided against it in the end. He didn't want to incriminate Donnie, especially with Raph's assertive approach to handling things. Donnie could be somewhat flighty at times when it came to resolving matters of emotion, at times a little too introspective, but Leo couldn't fault him—he had his own struggles with that very thing, too.

Done, finally, Donnie thought as he skirted into his lab and started up the game. He was late to the party quite literally; training lasted longer than he'd thought, and he was disappointed to see that his newest friend was online, but not responding to his invite. Did everyone get together and play without him? After a few minutes, he almost decided on giving up. The instance made him contemplate whether he even wanted to continue this. Perhaps he'd been too eager.

He sighed. And then the menu pinged, and he was there reading the message in an instant.

Hey, sorry I partied up without you, I just didn't know if you were gonna be on or not :/

Without even thinking, he licked his lips typed back, repeatedly deleting and retyping his message to make sure it was casual but not too casual, apologetic but not desperate—

It's okay, don't worry about it

Likewise sorry it took me so long to get here.

That would do. He'd be lying to say he wasn't feeling that flutter in his stomach; the excitement of something new got to him in a way that only a discovery in his research did, or how he felt when he mastered a new technique in his training.

Let's get started then :)

They started the game, and this time he kept the mic on, as she did. They talked back and forth as they fought creatures and enemies and looted things, eventually coming to learn that she herself was in New York City. He was surprised; suddenly, the world felt a lot smaller, and he couldn't concentrate on just playing after that. The time they spent became more of an opportunity to converse than to play a mundane game for hours on end.

At some point, she switched the topic to his whereabouts. Donnie's breath hitched.

"I'm...not anywhere near. So it doesn't really matter," he told her, cringing. If the guys found out—if Splinter found out—he would be in such trouble.

"Oh," she paused for a moment, trying to find something to say. "That's alright, I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me, you know?"

He'd muted his mic to release a deep breath. He got lost in thought thinking about how in that moment, he wanted to be human. If he weren't a giant mutant turtle, he could actually form a connection with someone. It was a very "Mikey" thing to think, he reckoned, but at times he wanted friends just like his brother did.

"Yeah, sorry, I just…"

"It's really no problem, dude."

He felt as though he could hear the smile in her voice. What did she look like, he wondered. He wanted to see her, but he couldn't ask for that when he could never do the same. If he could get her name, he'd be in the clear to do some preliminary lookups on this person, but so far, she'd been dodgy about sharing info about herself as well. He couldn't blame her. They were two strangers online, one with a huge secret and the other completely in the dark about who he truly was. For all she knew, he could have been a creep, looking to stalk her online and perhaps do even worse. The thought made him feel almost nauseous, how she could be considering that about him as a possibility as they spoke. But she seemed comfortable enough. Unlike him, who was still slightly skeptical of the entire thing, because after spending his whole life in practical isolation, he was at a loss as to what to say or do after a certain point. The conversation died off and both of them thought simultaneously about how weird the sudden silence between them felt.

She hummed, as if searching for something to bring up. When she spoke, he was taken aback—"Hey, I'm gonna be honest, I really like talking to you but this game is getting boring. Do you wanna chat somewhere else?"

"Uh…" he trailed off, mind shooting blanks. Oh, was it just a horrible idea. He couldn't keep the jig up forever; the truth was bound to get revealed somewhere down the line. He was fixing to reject the proposition, tell her that he didn't want to take it that far. She could be anyone. The likelihood of it being a clever ruse on account of the Foot Clan was slim, but the paranoia still worked ambiently in the background noise of his mind. But his other doubt stopped him—when would he ever have a chance at this again? He wanted to have the strength to say no and leave it at that. The loneliness that crept up on him from time to time had something else to say.

"Yeah," he answered after a terribly long pause of mumbling, fighting with himself all the way as she told him where to add her. He could have kicked himself had it not been for the fact that he knew how to encrypt data, and that as long as he didn't leak a word about his inner circle or life, it would be okay. It didn't feel okay, though.

"Nice! I'll text you, see you later, Bo. I had a lot of fun tonight," she chirped.

Before he could respond, she was gone from the party, and the mic went silent. It happened so fast. He was barely caught up with the fact that he was now receiving messages and prompts to talk, but he couldn't bring himself to answer right away. He had to refocus his logic; how could this be used by the enemy as a way to get to them? Could they have somehow anticipated he'd download this game and find this random on there? The more the thought about it, the more glaringly obvious it was that it was not the case. It was just too improbable.

"The probability of the Foot being able to simulate such a specific scenario in order to get intel on us is so slim, it is practically non-existent," he told himself as he finally pulled up the messages. He read through them. "Approximately a zero-point-zero-zero-zero..."

My name is (Y/N), by the way :)

Well, that was easier than expected. He figured that somehow, the name suited you—a fitting name for such a personality. But it also gave him a glimmer of hope. It made him want to ask why you appeared to trust him, as he could be anyone on the Earth over the screen, not his benevolent self. Which she had no way of proving, technically. But he soon came to realize the screen painted him in a whole new light that it casted on him. It hit then that he could be anyone. He didn't have to be himself; not necessarily. She'd never have to know, as he could wear a human mask and she'd be none the wiser. Problem was, the lying made him feel guilty, and slowly would develop to be the thorn in his side.

Donnie thoughtfully stared at the screen. Now that he was here, some of his anxiety began to fade. He found himself actually able to talk, someone to listen to his tangents and even build upon them. They spent hours texting back and forth about anything and everything until it was almost time for him to put the phone down to leave for patrol. He felt giddy, like a kid, all over again.

________________________________________

Had you ever been able to talk to someone this easily?

You asked yourself that question as you exchanged with the faceless and nameless stranger over your screen, chatting from afternoon to night. Time flew by in an instant, with him, and you loved every minute. He was someone intellectual, but funny and so easy to talk to that it was as though the conversation carried itself. After some time he came out about his age after you revealed yours. Oftentimes, he'd just present to you a random question when the subject tapered off and run with it, like now:

What do you think of reptiles?

Puzzled, you took a second to reply. Odd question.

Why do you ask? Do you have one?

I was just curious

What do you think of them?

The chat indicator flip-flopped between "typing" and "idle" a few times before a message finally popped up, and you smiled. You'd learned over this short time that he was a dork in a cute way.

Well...I think they're pretty cool.

They've got natural armor and you would be surprised to know just how fast a turtle can be

You laughed a little to yourself. It was such a random thing to bring up, yet you were endeared. Deciding you'd go along with it, you asked him what else he knew about turtles.

Well...

__________________________________________________

Donnie was wondering what he was talking about just as much as she probably was. Stupid, he thought, facepalming. His first time really speaking with a human as an equal and he starts talking about turtles. Of course he knew a lot about them, he was one himself—but for some reason he found himself wanting to dispel myths and misunderstandings about turtles as if they reflected on him, when as far as she knew, he was just a human guy like herself.

He groaned lightly and typed, thinking up a fact that wasn't too conspicuous.

Red eared sliders are semi-aquatic.

As he typed the next part, he caught himself writing "we" instead of "they", to his dismay. He quickly fixed the error and continued, feeling weirdly exposed as it was almost as though in sharing this information, he was putting himself under a microscope for her to inspect.

They can hold their breath for up to thirty minutes, usually

Holding his breath was something he'd tested numerous times before. He and his brothers had actually made a game out of it on a few occasions, with Leo leading at thirty-three minutes, Donnie in second at thirty-one. Raph broke at twenty-nine minutes and Mikey followed behind in last at just twenty-seven. The ability could be trained, nonetheless.

That's interesting, I wonder what it's like to be able to go underwater so long?

It's kind of cool, you should try sometime

For THIRTY MINUTES?

Shit. He promptly replied:

No—not like I can hold my breath that long, I just mean you should try to see sometime I guess

I tested it just for the fun of it.

Looking up how long humans could hold their breath on average (between thirty seconds and two minutes), he bumped the number up a little bit and added:

Personally, I'm at two minutes and forty-five seconds

He was embarrassed, partially covering his face as he waited for a response. Such a foolish slip-up; he couldn't afford to say anything cryptic. But he still was fairly sure that he had recovered that alright. He couldn't help but think about how awkward or weird he seemed to her. Who talked about this?

I don't think I could hold my breath for more than a minute, kudos to you haha

Anyway, sorry to switch gears all of a sudden but if you don't mind me asking, what's up with your family? You have any siblings?

He told her no. He would not bring his brothers into this, lest it be the slim chance of a ploy, after all. He said his family situation was unconventional and left it at that.

With that, he said to her goodnight and put his phone away, getting up to go get geared for patrol. It was only then he noticed the figure leaning against the doorway.

Chapter 3