#Day 11 | Opulence

[blametheeditor]

Day 11 | Opulence

Gt July Prompt List

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When stranded on an uncharted underwater planet, alone and surrounded by hostile lifeforms, there are only two possible outcomes: adapt and survive, or die trying.

Spoilers: For the game Subnautica

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and violence. Mentions of threats and the intent to kill. Mentions of drowning and suffocation. Near death experience. Referring to someone as 'it'. Mentions of dehumanization, experimenting on people, being held against someone's will. Peril.

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The thing about ghost leviathans is the fact they're naturally independent and territorial of their space. 

The thing about Vincent is how loyal and protective he is above all else. 

Can you see where there might be a contradiction somewhere?

Now don’t get him wrong, he genuinely enjoys having his own space. There’s a reason why he’s the only ghost and leviathan who has claimed the blood kelp island as their territory. The biome that’s purposefully the farthest away from a certain leviathan he couldn’t handle getting a visit from almost every single day. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t genuinely enjoy the presence of others. He makes semi-frequent trips around the crater to see how the guppy’s he’s watched grow up are doing. Gives surprise visits to remind everyone who the strongest is and make sure no one’s stupid enough to challenge someone to the death, and that happens more often than you’d think, much to his disappointment. 

It’s quite a balancing act, however. Because on one hand, Vincent is content to swim deeper than the sunlight can reach without worrying about someone bugging him. On the other, he slowly starts loosing his mind not knowing if he’s missing something important. Creatures from the sky start a mass extinction once and it’s all he worries about for the rest of his life. 

However, it has been a while since he’s made his rounds. Left the opulence of his little corner. Patrolled to see if any of the glowing green buildings activated. Annoyed a few leviathans that are always entertaining. 

Found a burning ship symbolizing it was going to start all over again. 

Vincent stops breathing when he realizes what exactly he’s looking at. That he wasn’t mistaken the water is murkier than the last time he visited. The dunes always tend to be sparse, but not so much there’s not a single coral in sight. And metal isn’t supposed to be the first thing he sees. 

Panic erupts as he darts forward to try and find a reaper. Wanting to headbutt each and every one of them not telling him while also hoping they’re all okay. Especially when it becomes apparent just how massive the entire thing is. There’s no telling who it could’ve killed purely on accident, and what it has in store for those who are purposefully hunted down. 

After taking a survey of when this happened to what’s been encountered, and rams into a few reapers in the attempt to knock some sense into them after they claim it’s ‘not a big deal’, Vincent’s terror turns into relief. Because nothing out of the ordinary has been seen except for the parts scattered along the seafloor. And after careful examination, it looks like the ship crashed rather then landed, leaving a majority of the weapons unusable. 

That is, until he does a headcount. Out of the 10 reapers that have claimed these destroyed dunes, only 9 are accounted for. 

His entire body down to the tip of his tail tenses at the realization someone’s missing. It’s been 30 days, the ship nothing but a pile of metal, and someone has already been taken. And there’s no telling what their fate might be. It could’ve been a merciful death where they didn’t know what was happening. They could be trapped in a cell much too small and much too warm. 

They could be getting tortured, needles piercing their skin as their body is permanently altered, experiencing the most excruciating pain they could’ve ever imagined. 

“Who?” Vincent pleads before anger starts to take over as he visibly begins to tremble. ”Who is missing?” 

David.

With a roar that sends everyone scattering, he whips around toward the self-centered reaper’s territory with one thought, and one thought only. That being to find whatever did this and rip it to shreds. 

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he doesn’t need to. The one thing he can always rely on is finding something that doesn’t belong and start from there. Where there’s something artificial, the creator won’t be far away. 

It’s a long process of meticulously combing every inch of the trench, he swims closer to the surface to continue searching the shallows, hatred spurring him on even as his limbs grow tired and his energy wanes. He won’t eat or rest until he’s guaranteed everyone’s safety. If he stops at any point, that’s more time to let those monsters take another leviathan. 

His diligence pays off. After slowly but steadily getting closer to the surface as the seafloor gradually slopped upwards, he spots a shadow cast by the afternoon sun that clearly doesn’t belong. Looks up to see something floating on the water. And beneath it sits a fully functional ship, albeit smaller than the one that destroyed the dunes, but size doesn’t mean it isn’t capable of killing or sedating its target. 

He found it. 

Vincent carefully approaches the two metal objects, not daring to touch them in case they activate. Instead he looks around to see if there’s any structures built into the ground, or a vent leading to something underground. When he doesn’t see anything, not even the remains of a reaper, he carefully swims deeper into the shallows. 

Come out, come out wherever you are.

It’s almost eerily silent as he glides through the water. Not even the peepers squeak when he gets too close to one. As if they know he’s here to take care of a disease. 

And then he sees something as bright as blood kelp moving among the rocks. Slowly turns as he keeps the extensions on his back from bumping into coral. Watches the color disappear before reappearing as it swims out into the open. 

It’s a human. Which means it is happening again, and David was the first victim. 

He was too late. 

Vincent roars as he coils up. Sees the expression of pure terror as he lunges himself toward it. 

He misses a fatal bite. But with it being so close to the rock, he rams directly into it, sending debris showering down. If it didn’t get squashed by him, it might’ve gotten crushed by its own shelter. 

A high-pitched shriek tells him otherwise. Vincent pushes himself away in order to circle around and ram into the rock again with a roar. Watches as coral falls to the seabed, fish scatter in all directions, dust bellowing as everything begins to crumble. 

“Wait, please!” 

Rage rises up like a tide at a plea its victim would’ve screamed as well. One he knows wasn’t listened to, and he won’t either. Vincent roars again as he dives down at an angle, the extensions on his back digging into the rock as he passes. 

The sound of a mechanical hum tells him it escaped the collapsing spire of rock. And when he turns, he sees it completely out in the open, swimming as quickly as it can as close to the seafloor as possible. 

Unhinging his jaw, Vincent dives after it. 

“David!” 

Vincent reacts like he’s been electrocuted, stopping himself short despite having a clear shot to kill it. Unable to do anything except stare in disbelief as it darts into another opening in a rock that will be much harder to destroy. 

It doesn’t matter it’s escaped. What matters is that there is no possible way the human just spoke leviathan. And not just any leviathan, the name of the one who’s missing. The one it killed. 

“David?” Vincent demands. 

As if on que, the roar of a reaper is heard in the distance. He might not be able to spot them, but he knows they can see him. And when they finally get close enough for him to get a good look, all he can do is stare as David races toward him. 

“Don’t eat him!” 

“Him!” Vincent snaps, pissed at that being the first thing said. “What are you doing with a human!” 

“None of your business!” 

The ghost leviathan roars as he launches himself at David, unable to appreciate the genuine fear in the reaper’s eyes, just glad a side-effect were the mandibles snapping back so he has the perfect opportunity to headbutt barely gentle enough to not be fatal. 

“It is my business when I thought you were dead!” Vincent shouts as the other leviathan gasps in pain, hands massaging his forehead. “What the fuck were you thinking!” 

David hisses through his teeth in a plea to be given a moment. And as Vincent’s own adrenalin begins to fade, he gives the reaper some space. Glares to state he will be given answers but he’ll be patient. 

“Did you really need to headbutt me?” 

“I did. Considering you thought it’d be a great idea to befriend a human.” 

“I’m watching him,” David grumbles. With one last ginger touch on his head, the reaper gives a glare of his own. “And I’ll have you know I tried to kill him several times. But he survived every one, so now I keep an eye on him to make sure he’s not going to start killing leviathans.” 

Vincent stares. “Do I mean nothing to you?” 

“Absolutely nothing,” David smirks. “Besides, he’s too stupid for his own good. He’s basically harmless.” 

The ghost leviathan is unable to fully process what is being said. Because the word human and harmless can’t exist in the same sentence. And there’s the sheer audacity of someone saying something like that to his face. Someone who’s entire body is a deep purple, even the parts of his tail meant to be translucent have the distinct hue due to experiencing firsthand the cruelty humans possess. 

He should’ve let David get eaten by a stalker when he was a guppy. 

The reaper suddenly gestures toward something behind him. It’s the look of amusement that has Vincent slowly turning rather than attempting to dodge an attack. 

The human stares up at them with a distinct expression of concern. But the thing that has all 12 of his eyes widen is the fact it swam closer, even though it left them completely vulnerable. A coral tube that can easily be smashed being used for cover. 

“Are you okay?” it squeaks, and Vincent sends a look when he hears the human speak not only its own language, but leviathan as well. 

David waves him off. “I’m fine, ‘Fritz’.” 

As upset as he is about the fact David is acting so flippant about the countless lives at stake, never did he think someone like the reaper would ever speak human. Forgetting the fact there wouldn’t be a reason to, he thought pride would be the biggest hurdle. The second would be the fact it’s painful to mimic. 

Vincent would know. He thought pleas for mercy using words they understand would’ve worked far better than incomprehensible wails. 

He had been wrong. 

“You’re not killing him.” 

David stares at him intently. And with it being a statement rather than a question, it’s a guarantee the reaper will fight him in order to protect the miniscule creature. 

A smile stretches across Vincent’s face at the realization David’s attached. “I’m assuming ‘Fritz’ is his name.” 

The reaper sputters. “How did you get it on the first try!” 

“It’s almost like I’ve met one before,” the ghost deadpans. He ignores the growl to look back down at the human seeming to be absolutely ecstatic. Becomes excited when it’s realized Vincent’s watching. 

Proceeds to gesture toward himself, David, and then Vincent. “Fritz, David...” 

Now he’s starting to see why the reaper adopted him. “Vincent.” 

Fritz’s eyes grow wide. Starts to quietly murmur. “In...Inen...Vin...Vinen?” 

Alright, he can stay for now. The ghost will be watching for a bit, though. Make sure David isn’t being an idiot and missing the fact a weapon or cell is secretly getting built. 

Slowly as to not spook David, he coils himself up as he sinks down to the seabed, sneering when the reaper is unable to lie close to him. Not with the wings on his back posing a risk of hitting a vulnerable head with a well placed turn. 

“Vin-cent,” he repeats slowly. 

“Vincent!” 

“Great, he got your name,” David growls. “Time for you to go.” 

The ghost hums. “No, I think I’ll stay.” 

“You are not-” 

The protest is cut off by Fritz disappearing into the coral, swimming back into view with a peeper, boomerang, and a piece of quartz in hand. The human looks hopeful as he tosses the rock toward David, followed by the peeper. The second fish is offered to Vincent. 

It takes a moment to understand what he’s seeing. When he does, the ghost leviathan laughs. “Have you been living in luxury this entire time?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Oh I am definitely staying. Need to make sure he’s not bribing you with peepers and rocks,” Vincent grins, surprised with himself for not automatically assuming the worse. He’s simply enjoying the fact he has numerous things to hold over David’s head whenever to use for whatever he wants. 

He doesn’t fully trust the human. But he will take advantage of this rare opportunity until it’s proven this is all a rouse. 

“I don't keep the rocks!” 

[reidmarieprentiss]

Finding Home Again: Part One

Summary: Y/N meets Spencer Reid when she is 11-years-old, her older brother, Adam, is his classmate and friend. They reconnect at Adam's wedding.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, one bed trope

Warnings/Includes: mild bullying, name calling, bisexual spencer reid (it's canon to me), wedding activities, swimming in underwear, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress, suggestive content (16+), commitment issues, emotionally unavailable parents, bad relationship with parents, confrontation

Word count: 12.4k

a/n: part two is here!!

main masterlist

Spencer Reid was a terrified 8-year-old freshman in high school. As he navigated the crowded hallways, his small frame was easily overlooked, but his presence still drew strange looks and whispered comments. He felt extremely uncomfortable and out of place, his heart pounding with every step. By the end of the day, he still hadn't had a single student offer any help or kindness to him. 

His last class of the day was Algebra 2, and he felt a flicker of hope. Math had always been his sanctuary, a place where numbers and equations made sense when nothing else did. When he walked into the classroom, he noticed that there was assigned seating. Relief washed over him; at least he wouldn't have to struggle to find somewhere to sit.

As everyone got settled in, Spencer found his assigned seat next to a tall, friendly-looking boy. Before he had a chance to take out his notebook, the boy turned to him and smiled warmly.

"I'm Adam," he said, extending his hand for a handshake.

Spencer looked at the hand and then back up at Adam, feeling a wave of anxiety. "Hi, I'm Spencer, and I don't shake hands," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Adam laughed, not in a mean way, but with genuine amusement. "Hi, Spencer who doesn't shake hands. It's nice to meet you."

Spencer felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. For the first time that day, he felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, high school wouldn't be so bad after all.

— 

Y/N had spent the past few years immersed in the bustling streets and rich culture of Paris, attending a prestigious boarding school that promised to refine her language skills and broaden her horizons. Yet, despite the allure of the City of Light, she often felt the sting of loneliness, her parents' distance echoing even across the ocean. Now, at age 11, she was returning home a month earlier than the American school year ended, her heart a mix of exhaustion and anticipation.

As the chauffeur-driven car pulled up to the grand but cold mansion in the suburbs of Las Vegas, Y/N's heart sank. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that her parents would be there to greet her. Instead, the familiar figure of their chauffeur, Robert, was the one to open the car door.

"Welcome home, Miss Y/N," he said with a polite smile.

She forced a smile in return, hiding her disappointment. "Thank you, Robert."

Dragging her feet along the paved path, she entered the house, its opulence doing little to warm the cold emptiness she felt. She made her way to the living room, hoping to find solace in the familiarity of home, but instead, she was met with the unexpected sight of her brother, Adam, and a group of his friends, hunched over textbooks and notebooks.

"Hey, Y/N!" Adam greeted her with a grin, looking up from his textbook. "Welcome back!"

"Hi," she replied, her voice flat. She was too tired and too upset to muster any enthusiasm. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing the familiar faces of her brother's friends that she’d seen in pictures he’d sent. When her eyes finally landed on a boy who was clearly much younger than the rest, with tousled brown hair and a slightly awkward demeanor. He looked up, meeting her gaze with a mixture of curiosity and shyness.

“Who are you?” Y/N hadn’t meant to be rude, she was just slightly shocked to see someone her own age among the older boys.

"This is Spencer," Adam introduced, gesturing to the boy. "Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She just got back from Paris."

"Hi," Spencer said softly, offering a small, tentative smile.

"Hi," Y/N replied, her frustration momentarily forgotten as she took in the boy who seemed as out of place in their luxurious home as she felt. "Nice to meet you."

"Sorry we're invading the living room," Adam said, noticing her weariness. "We're just cramming for finals. Spencer here is a genius when it comes to math and science, so he's been helping us out."

Y/N nodded, her exhaustion catching up with her. "It's fine. I just need to rest, so please, no screaming about fractions."

She turned to head upstairs, her feet thudding against each step as she climbed. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy towards the study group, wishing she had that kind of camaraderie during her time in Paris. They didn’t take well to American’s, no matter how long she was there nor how fluent she spoke. But more than anything, she wished her parents had cared enough to be there when she came home.

—

The summer before his senior year stretched out long and hot, with the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the hum of cicadas. Adam, now balancing a job cleaning pools and the pressures of preparing for SATs, ACTs, and college applications, found his days filled to the brim. He wasn't working for the money; his parents' wealth ensured he never had to worry about that. But he wanted to break free from the golden cage, to carve out a future where he wasn’t reliant on his parents.

Y/N watched from the sidelines as her brother’s schedule became increasingly packed. She missed the days when they would goof around together, but understood that Adam had his own life to lead. Meanwhile, Spencer Reid found himself spending more and more time with Adam. Spencer wasn't old enough to work yet, but his days were equally busy with preparations for the same academic hurdles.

One hot afternoon, Adam and Spencer were sitting on the back porch, textbooks and notes spread out between them. Adam was explaining a particularly tricky math problem, his hair falling into his eyes as he spoke. Spencer listened intently, his eyes occasionally flicking up to Adam's face, a subtle admiration in his gaze.

"Got it?" Adam asked, looking over at Spencer with a friendly smile.

Spencer nodded, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, thanks. You're really good at explaining things."

Adam laughed lightly, clapping Spencer on the back. "No problem, buddy. We make a good team, huh?"

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the casual touch, his mind racing with unspoken feelings. "Yeah, we do."

Their interactions were always like this—simple, friendly, but with an undercurrent of something more for Spencer. He couldn't help the crush that had developed, even though he knew it was impossible. Adam was older, focused on his future, and saw Spencer as a friend, maybe even a little brother.

One day, as they were packing up their study materials, Adam glanced over at Spencer. "Hey, thanks for helping me stay on track this summer. I know I’ve been busy, but it’s been cool hanging out with you."

Spencer smiled, the words warming his heart. "It's been cool for me too. I’ve learned a lot."

"You're gonna ace those tests, no doubt," Adam said with a confident grin. "And who knows, maybe we'll end up at the same college."

Spencer's eyes lit up at the thought, but he quickly tempered his excitement, not wanting to seem too eager. "Yeah, that would be great."

As Adam slung his bag over his shoulder and headed inside, Spencer lingered on the porch for a moment, watching him go. He knew his feelings for Adam would likely never be reciprocated, but he cherished these moments of closeness, however fleeting they might be.

Y/N observed all this from her bedroom window, a quiet observer to the crush Spencer clearly had on her older brother. She felt the green monster of jealousy coil up inside of her. Why doesn’t Spencer look at her like that? Is she not as smart as Adam? Not as funny? Maybe he only likes older people.

One particularly warm day, Spencer was over to help Adam revise an application essay. They were hanging out by the pool, both to Spencer's excitement and frustration. He didn't want to take his shirt off in front of Adam; he was so scrawny compared to the man Adam was becoming. He didn't even have hair under his arms yet! Spencer found himself getting worked up over the muscle Adam had put on while cleaning pools, feeling increasingly self-conscious.

"Hey, I'm going to grab some lemonade," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice steady as he got up from his lounge chair.

Adam looked up from his notes and nodded. "Sure thing, grab some for me too, will ya?"

Spencer nodded and walked briskly into the house, his thoughts a whirl of admiration and insecurity. As he poured himself a glass of lemonade, having kindly turned down the offer from one of the kitchen staff to do it for him, Y/N walked into the kitchen in a swimsuit. She knew what she was doing; she wanted to see if Spencer would look at her like he did her brother.

"Hi, Spencer," she greeted, her voice casual but her eyes searching.

Spencer almost dropped the pitcher, startled by her sudden appearance. "H-hi, Y/N..."

"How’s it going? Is it hot out there?" she asked, leaning against the counter with an air of nonchalance.

"Mhm, it's hot and, uh, yeah, good. You?" Spencer stammered, trying to keep his eyes on her face and not let them wander. Stupid hormones.

"I'm good, bored. Think I'm gonna go for a swim," Y/N replied, giving him a pointed look.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up. "Oh, cool. Swimming sounds nice."

Y/N nodded. "You should join me sometime. It’s a good way to cool off, especially on days like this."

"I, uh, maybe," Spencer managed, his voice cracking slightly.

She smiled at him. "Well, I'll be out there if you change your mind."

With that, she turned and walked out towards the pool, leaving Spencer standing there, his heart racing. He couldn't help but feel a confusing mix of emotions. He liked Y/N; she was kind and funny in her own way. But his feelings for Adam were something different, something he couldn't quite understand or control.

As he walked back outside with the lemonade, he caught sight of Y/N cannonballing into the pool. Adam looked up and waved Spencer over, oblivious to the tension Spencer was feeling.

"Thanks, man," Adam said, taking the glass from Spencer. "You should take a dip too. Y/N's got the right idea; it's a great way to beat the heat."

Spencer nodded, trying to smile. "Maybe later."

He sat back down, trying to focus on the essay in front of him, but his mind kept wandering. He glanced over at Y/N, who was swimming leisurely, and then at Adam, who was scribbling notes in the margin of his paper. Spencer felt like he was caught in the middle of something he didn't quite understand, struggling to find his place in the dynamics of this family that had become so important to him.

—

The day of Adam's graduation was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Adam, ever the unexpected, had committed to Florida State, a decision that had shocked and horrified many. Spencer could hardly believe it when he heard the news. Florida State, a school notorious for its party culture, seemed an odd choice for someone who had always been so focused on academics. But Adam was a party boy through and through, and now, with the immense college fund his parents had set up for him, he had the freedom to choose his own path.

That night, Adam's family mansion was abuzz with a grand celebration party. The opulent rooms were filled with friends, family, and well-wishers, all toasting to Adam's future. Spencer, though trying to be happy for his friend, felt a gnawing sense of sadness and anxiety. Graduating at only 12-years-old and moving away to college meant leaving behind the only family that had ever felt like his.

As the party continued, Spencer found himself feeling more and more overwhelmed. Seeking solace, he looked around for Y/N. He found her standing by the grand staircase, looking as though she was taking a brief respite from the festivities.

"Y/N," he called softly, and she turned to him, her eyes filled with concern at his slightly panicked appearance.

"Hey, Spencer," she said gently, sensing his turmoil. "Do you want to go outside?"

Spencer nodded, grateful for her intuition. She led him out of the mansion and into the expansive garden. The night air was cool and soothing, and the garden was a haven of tranquility away from the noise of the party. They walked in silence for a while, the stars twinkling above them like scattered diamonds.

Y/N finally stopped at a secluded spot, a bench under a large oak tree. She sat down and patted the space next to her. Spencer joined her, taking a deep breath as he looked up at the sky.

"I can't believe he's going to Florida State," Spencer said, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of sadness.

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, it's a surprise, but it's his choice. He’s an adult now."

Spencer sighed. "I know. It's just... I'm going to miss him. And you. This place feels like home, and now I'm leaving."

Y/N placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll miss you too, Spencer. But you'll do amazing things, I know it. You've always been great."

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "It's just... scary, you know? Moving away, being on my own. What if I don't fit in?"

Y/N smiled warmly. "You will. You always do."

They sat in comfortable silence, gazing up at the stars. The night was calm, the garden a peaceful contrast to the lively celebration inside. Spencer felt a sense of peace wash over him, comforted by Y/N's presence and her words.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking over at her. "For being here. For understanding."

Y/N squeezed his shoulder gently. "I’ll always be here for you, Spencer."

As they sat together, the weight of the impending changes felt a little lighter. The stars above seemed to shine a bit brighter, and for the first time that night, Spencer felt a glimmer of hope for the future.

—

24 years old now, Spencer Reid hadn't thought about Adam in years, but when the invitation arrived in the mail, it brought back a flood of memories. He held the ornate envelope in his hands, his heart pounding with a mix of nostalgia and nerves. The invitation was to Adam's wedding, an event that promised to reunite old friends and acquaintances. Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of obligation to attend. Adam had always been kind to him during those tumultuous high school years.

Despite his apprehension, Spencer decided to go. He meticulously planned his trip, ensuring he had everything he needed to make a good impression. The journey to the wedding venue in Napa Valley, California was a blur of anxious thoughts and memories of the past. As he arrived at the grand hotel where the event was being held, he felt a knot of nerves tightening in his stomach.

Meanwhile, Y/N was also preparing for the wedding. She couldn't help but feel excitement and trepidation at the thought of seeing Spencer again, Adam informed her that he had RSVP’d yes. She had always harbored a silly little crush on him, one that had persisted through the years despite their long separation. The idea of seeing him again, older and perhaps changed, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

The wedding weekend began with a flurry of activities. The hotel was abuzz with guests arriving, mingling, and catching up. Spencer found himself lost in the crowd, his nerves making it difficult to relax. As he checked in at the front desk, the receptionist handed him a key card with a polite smile.

"Here you go, Dr. Reid. Room 212," she said.

Spencer thanked her and made his way to the elevator, his mind racing with thoughts of what the weekend could entail. He arrived at the door to his room and swiped the key card. As he pushed the door open, he was met with an unexpected sight.

Y/N was standing in the middle of the room, her back to him as she attempted to pull up the zipper of her dress. Upon hearing the door open, she spun around with a scream, holding the dress to her chest.

“What the fuck!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock.

“I’m so sorry!” Spencer stammered, equally startled.

“Spencer?” she said, her expression shifting from surprise to recognition.

“Y/N?” he replied, still trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, still clutching the dress to her chest.

“I don’t know, this is the room I was told I'm staying in. My key opened the door…” he explained, holding up the key card as if it could somehow explain everything.

“Shit. Okay. Something must have gotten messed up. I'll check it out as soon as I'm dressed,” Y/N said, her tone calming slightly.

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll just leave you be,” Spencer said, starting to back out of the room.

“Actually… Spencer, could you help me with the zipper?” Y/N asked, her voice softer and a bit embarrassed.

Spencer paused, his face flushing. “Uh, sure. Of course.”

He stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him. Y/N turned around, holding her hair up to give him access to the zipper. His hands trembled slightly as he grasped the zipper, carefully pulling it up the back of her dress.

“Thank you,” she said softly once he had finished.

“No problem,” Spencer replied, stepping back and trying to keep his eyes respectfully averted.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Well, let’s go sort this out. Maybe the front desk can figure out what happened.”

As they left the room together, Spencer couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of awkwardness and nostalgia. Despite the initial shock, there was something oddly comforting about being in Y/N’s presence again. 

—

"So you're saying every single room in the entire hotel is booked? How is that even possible?” Y/N asked, her frustration evident.

“Well, miss, your wedding party is not the only group staying here. It is a very popular vineyard, especially at this time of year,” the receptionist explained calmly.

“So what you’re saying is we have to share this room?” Y/N pressed, trying to find a solution.

“You could stay with someone else, but yes, there are no more rooms available,” the receptionist confirmed.

Y/N sighed deeply, rubbing between her brows. “Okay. Thank you.”

Spencer and Y/N walked away from the desk, both trying to process the situation. Spencer broke the silence with a lighthearted joke. “Hopefully this is the worst thing that will happen this weekend.”

Y/N looked at him, a mix of apology and stress in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t mean to make you think I’d hate to share a room with you… it’s just, this weekend is already going to be stressful.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry for teasing. It’s okay. It will be like the sleepovers we had as kids,” Spencer said, trying to reassure her.

“You mean where you and Adam slept in the game room and I stayed as far away as possible?” Y/N responded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“Exactly,” Spencer bubbled with laughter, the tension between them easing a bit.

They made their way back to their shared room, Spencer couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic, thinking back to those simpler times. Y/N, too, found herself feeling a bit more at ease, her initial worries about the weekend beginning to fade. 

—

Once they were back in the room, Y/N looked over at Spencer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I was going to pretend to be courteous and ask what side of the bed you prefer… but I have to sleep next to the window,” she announced, a playful smile on her lips.

“Oh, well, thank you for almost considering my feelings!” Spencer laughed, his tension easing. “I don’t mind either way, but if you snore half as bad as your brother, I’m putting a pillow over your face.”

“Oh my god, that man could cut down trees with that chainsaw he keeps in his mouth!” Y/N exclaimed, her laughter filling the room.

They shared some giggles, the awkwardness between them dissolving into familiarity and warmth.

“It’s really nice to see you, Spencer,” Y/N said sincerely, her eyes softening as she looked at him.

“You too, Y/N. You look so grown up,” Spencer replied, noting the elegance and maturity in her appearance.

“Well, 12 years will do that to someone,” she said with a chuckle, her gaze lingering on him.

“Not me, I still look the same,” Spencer said, shaking his head with a wry smile.

“Yeah,” Y/N tilted her head to the side, studying his face. “You really haven’t changed at all.”

“Okay, easy now,” Spencer protested lightly, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Did you ever grow armpit hair?” she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Hey!” Spencer exclaimed, trying to defend his dignity.

“Oh, come on, Spencer! Show me!” Y/N teased further, taking a playful step towards him.

“No, Y/N. Hey, get away from me!” Spencer laughed as Y/N chased him around the room, her determination to see his armpits turning into a playful game.

With a burst of energy, Y/N ended up tackling him to the bed, sitting successfully on his stomach. “Give it up, Spencer, I win.”

“Nope!” he yelled triumphantly before using all his strength to flip her, pinning her down and tickling her.

Y/N cackled and shouted, “Uncle! Uncle!” between fits of laughter.

When Spencer finally pulled back, they both noticed the precarious position they were in. Spencer was between Y/N’s thighs with his hands by her head, both of them panting in each other’s mouths. The laughter faded as they locked eyes, the weight of the years apart and the sudden closeness creating a charged moment.

“I need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner,” Y/N whispered.

Spencer took the cue and got off of Y/N and the bed. “Mhm, yup. Me too.”

“Um, I showered when I got here. So, uh, I’ll just go get ready in the bridal suite. You can have the room,” Y/N said as she gathered the things she would need to get ready.

“Y/N… you don’t have to leave, I’m sorry.”

“What? Nothing to be sorry about. Just giving you your privacy. See you later, Spencer.”

“Yeah, see—” but she had already shut the door behind her. 

Spencer ran his hands over his face, feeling a mix of embarrassment and confusion. What had he been thinking? The sudden intimacy had caught him off guard, and now he felt a pang of regret for how awkward things had become. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and began preparing for the rehearsal dinner, hoping the rest of the evening would go more smoothly.

— 

Y/N was not a bridesmaid, but she was fine with that. She wasn't all that interested in the responsibilities and duties that came with it anyway. She was still very close with her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Elizabeth, and it was no problem for her to get ready in the bridal suite. Once she explained the mix-up with the rooms, Elizabeth was extremely apologetic and understanding.

At the rehearsal dinner, Y/N’s seat was, of course, next to Spencer’s. He had arrived before her, which meant she spotted the back of his head before she sat down, giving her time to make a run for the open bar before making her way to the table.

As she sat down, Spencer looked over and his breath caught at the sight of her. Y/N looked absolutely radiant in her rehearsal dinner attire. The outfit suited her perfectly, complementing all of her assets and making her eyes shine. Maybe he had been silly to waste all those years alongside her chasing after her brother when she was right there. Although, he figured it probably would have been difficult to maintain a long-distance relationship at 12 while he was in university.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted him, her smile warm and genuine.

“Hi,” Spencer replied, still a bit breathless. “You look... amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling more at ease. “Thanks. It’s nice to be here. I mean, it’s been so long.”

“Yeah, it has,” Y/N agreed, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s crazy how time flies.”

As they settled into conversation, the initial awkwardness from earlier seemed to dissipate. They talked about their lives, their work, and the memories from their youth, finding common ground and shared experiences. The laughter and joyfulness that had once defined their friendship began to resurface, making the evening feel less like a reunion of strangers and more like a gathering of old friends.

Throughout the dinner, Spencer couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, marveling at how she had grown into such a beautiful and confident woman. The realization that he might have missed something special by focusing so much on Adam gnawed at him, but he tried to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the present moment.

After all the speeches were given and the eating was rehearsed, the youngest and oldest of the crowd turned into their rooms for the night. The bridal party and groomsmen left as well, all needing to be up very early. This left the young to middle-aged adults to the complimentary after-dinner party. There were free drinks, a dance floor, karaoke, and dimmed lighting.

Y/N looked over at Spencer, not knowing if this was his cup of tea or not. “Do you want to stay for a bit?”

The idea of cutting the night short didn't sit well with him, especially not with how Y/N was looking at him. “No, no, I'd like to stay if you do.”

“Sure,” she smiled. “I’ll stay.”

The two walked over to the bar to get a drink. Spencer had very rarely indulged in alcohol. Gideon had tried to introduce him to scotch, which he hated. Hotch had shown him whiskey, which wasn’t as bad but still too strong. Derek ordered him a Sex on the Beach that he really liked but was too embarrassed to order on his own. So he didn't know what he was going to do when the bartender looked at him.

“What will you have, miss?” the bartender asked Y/N.

“Just an appletini, please,” she replied. The bartender nodded and turned his attention to Spencer.

Spencer could feel his palms sweat as he ran over every drink he knew of. Y/N leaned over and asked, “Do you want me to order for you?”

Spencer nodded gratefully and whispered his order in her ear. Y/N pulled away, absolutely delighted. She told the bartender his drink before looking back to Spencer and saying, “At least ask me on a date first, you men are all the same,” teasing the poor red man.

Spencer blushed furiously but couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you,” he said, his embarrassment mingling with amusement.

The bartender soon returned with their drinks—Y/N’s appletini and Spencer’s Sex on the Beach. Y/N handed Spencer his drink, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Here you go, pervert. Enjoy.”

Spencer blushed even more, laughing despite himself. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip and feeling the sweet, fruity flavors calm his nerves.

They moved to a small table near the dance floor, the music a pleasant background to their conversation. Y/N sipped her drink and looked around, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

“So, Dr. Reid,” she began, her tone playful, “what’s your favorite part about weddings?”

Spencer thought for a moment, a small smile forming on his lips. “Honestly, I’ve never been to a wedding before. Have you?”

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah. I think my favorite part is the dancing. I’ve always wanted someone to swing me around the dance floor at a wedding, it looks so romantic.”

Spencer took note of what Y/N was saying, thinking that maybe he could be the one to dance her around tomorrow at the reception. “You know, I never said thank you,” Spencer said.

“For what?” Y/N tilted her head.

“For being nice to me, you and Adam both. You never laughed at me or made me feel weird for being so young and advanced.”

“Spencer…” Y/N said with a hint of questioning in her voice. “Why would we make fun of you for being smart? Oh ha ha, look at this guy, he knows way more than us.”

Spencer chuckled. “I know, but still, thank you.”

Y/N smiled warmly, reaching across the table to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re welcome, Spencer. You’ve always been special to us.”

Spencer felt his heart grow ten sizes at her words, 'us,' and the fact that Y/N remembered his aversion for touching hands. Screw Adam and Elizabeth, he’d marry Y/N tomorrow. Now, that might be a little dramatic, but whatever.

As Spencer and Y/N continued to catch up and enjoy each other's company, they also consumed more drinks. The alcohol birthed an idea in Y/N’s pretty head, quite a good one if she says so.

“Spencer,” she leaned in, her voice playful.

“Yes, ma'am,” he responded, also leaning in until their foreheads pressed together.

Y/N giggled before sharing her idea, “We should go swimming.”

“What? Where?” Spencer asked, bewildered.

“The hotel has a pool!” she exclaimed, her excitement infectious.

“Isn’t it closed by now?” Spencer asked, skeptical but intrigued.

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head against his, her movement causing his glasses to brush against her eyebrows. “It’s open 24/7.”

Spencer was nervous; he knew Y/N liked to swim, but he wasn’t very good at it, not having done much swimming since his last summer with Adam. But he couldn’t say no to her, it would appear.

“Okay, let’s go,” he agreed, the decision making his heart race.

Y/N squealed in delight, grabbing Spencer by his bicep and dragging him behind her. She squeezed the muscle in her hand before wiggling her eyebrows at him and saying, “Wow, doctor, did you put on some muscle?”

Spencer blushed something fierce. “I had to, I’m in the FBI.”

“Ohh good, I’m gonna need a big strong man in case we get into danger,” Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt like he already was in danger, but a kind he was willing to face.

—

Once at the pool, they were both relieved to find no one else there; it was pretty late after all. As they approached the water, Spencer suddenly realized a flaw in Y/N's plan.

“Y/N, wait,” he grabbed her arm. “What about swimsuits?”

She smirked at him and pulled her arm away before grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling it off. Spencer's eyes were as wide as saucers, hilariously magnified by his frames.

“Close your mouth, doctor. Wouldn't want you to catch flies,” she teased, and with that, she jumped into the pool.

As Y/N resurfaced, Spencer noticed her makeup was impressively intact, probably some of that new waterproof stuff they make. She swam over to the edge in front of Spencer before looking up at him with a gaze not unlike a siren luring in prey.

“Come on in, Spence. The water feels amazing,” she coaxed, her voice soft and inviting.

Spencer, under the influence of something much stronger than alcohol, started shedding his clothes down to his briefs. Y/N wolf-whistled once he had his shirt off, causing a full-body flush to take over him. As soon as he was down to his last article, he jumped into the water to avoid her staring any longer.

The cool water enveloped him, a refreshing contrast to the heat he felt under Y/N's gaze. He surfaced, pushing his hair back and adjusting his glasses, which had miraculously stayed on.

“There you are,” Y/N said, swimming over to him. “Isn’t this nice?”

“Yeah,” Spencer admitted, feeling a bit more at ease now that he was in the water. “It’s actually really nice.”

“Are you ready?” Y/N asked, her voice low and taunting, getting very close to Spencer in the water, their bodies almost touching.

Spencer felt like he was going to pass out. “Re–ready for what?”

“Race ya!” she exclaimed, and with that, she was off, swimming away with powerful strokes.

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden challenge. Then, with a determined look, he launched himself after her, his competitive spirit kicking in despite his nerves. The cool water rushed past him as he swam, his strokes becoming more confident as he pushed himself to keep up with Y/N.

She reached the far end of the pool first, touching the wall and turning to see Spencer still making his way towards her. She laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night air.

“You’re slow, Dr. Reid!” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer reached the wall, panting but smiling. “Not all of us are part fish, Y/N.”

“Hey, I’m not that fast,” she said with a playful pout. “You did pretty well for someone who has never won a swimming race, ever.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, catching his breath. “But next time, I’ll beat you.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he said, feeling bolder. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I like when you get cocky, it suits you,” Y/N said, her voice dropping to a flirtatious purr as she swam closer to him, their bodies almost touching again.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest. “Oh really? I didn’t know I had it in me.”

“There’s a lot you have in you, Spencer,” she replied, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch. “Maybe you just need the right person to bring it out.”

“And who, um–who do you think that person is?” he asked, his voice trembling and nervous.

“Someone who,” she whispered, her lips just inches from his. “Would have se–”

“Hey! What are you two doing in here?” a security guard called out.

“Nothing!” Spencer yelped.

“Just leaving!” Y/N added quickly.

They scrambled out of the pool, grabbing their clothes and running down a hallway towards the elevators. Once they were safely inside one, they looked at each other and started laughing.

“I thought you said it was open all night!” Spencer exclaimed between breaths.

“I may have told a fib to get you to come swimming with me,” Y/N admitted, giving her best puppy dog eyes. “Are you mad at me, Spence?”

Spencer could see her hard nipples poking through the soaking wet, thin material of her bra and couldn’t find himself to be anything but aroused. “Uh, no, no. Not mad, that was fun.”

Y/N caught him looking but didn’t say anything. What man wouldn’t look at wet breasts right in his face?

“Yeah, it was,” she agreed, smiling. “Thanks for going with me.”

As Spencer looked up at the ceiling to avoid staring at Y/N’s half-naked body, she took her opportunity to glance down at his scantily concealed half hard bulge. She could see the entire outline through his wet, hot pink briefs.

“Never took you as a pink guy, doctor,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer blushed fiercely, trying to cover himself with his clothes. “They were a gift,” he mumbled, embarrassed but unable to keep from smiling.

“Well, I think they suit you,” she said with a wink.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped out, making their way back to their room, still dripping wet and grinning from ear to ear. Once inside, they both burst out laughing again, the adrenaline from their escapade still coursing through them.

“Here,” Y/N said, grabbing a couple of towels from the bathroom and tossing one to Spencer. “Dry off before you catch a cold.”

“Thanks,” he replied, wrapping the towel around himself. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Me neither,” she admitted, toweling off her hair. “But it was worth it.”

Spencer nodded, his heart still racing. “Yeah, it was.”

They both stood there for a moment, wrapped in towels and basking in the afterglow of their impromptu adventure. The tension between them was palpable, but so was the camaraderie and affection.

“Well,” Y/N said finally, breaking the silence. “I guess we should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed reluctantly, not wanting the evening to end. “Uh, do you want to shower first?”

“Thanks, Spencer,” Y/N nodded her head and grabbed her things.

The next 10 minutes were the hardest, literally, of Spencer's entire life. Knowing Y/N was naked and wet on the other side of the door was pure torture. He could hear the water running, imagine the steam filling the room, and envision her silhouette behind the shower curtain. When Y/N cracked open the bathroom door and peeked her head out, Spencer sat up faster than ever before, super not obvious at all.

“Sorry… I kind of forgot to bring any clothes in, so I need to come out in my towel. Is that okay?” she asked, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“Ye–yeah. Mhm,” he cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s totally fine, no big deal. Why would I care?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Y/N looked at him skeptically, a playful glint in her eye. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Spencer nodded and waited until Y/N was facing her suitcase to make a break for it, sprinting to the bathroom so she didn't see his very prominent boner tenting his pants. Y/N turned around quickly at the sound of the bathroom door slamming, finding his behavior odd.

In the shower, Spencer turned the water to cold and willed his erection away. The icy water was a shock to his system, but he needed it to calm down. He had not indulged much in self-pleasure and had certainly never seen as much of a woman as he saw today, let alone been touched by one. Eventually, it did go down, and he got out, only to realize he hadn't brought a towel. Of fucking course.

Spencer was now the one sticking his head out of the crack he made in the doorway, “Y/N…?”

“Yeah, Spencer, what’s up?” she called back, now sitting in the bed.

“I, um, forgot a towel,” he admitted, feeling his face heat up again.

“Oh shit, let me grab yours,” Y/N replied, getting up and walking over to his bag to retrieve the towel.

“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to make himself as small as possible behind the door.

When Y/N walked over to hand the towel to Spencer, she couldn’t help but immediately break into giggles.

“Oh, that’s what every guy wants to hear. What is it?” Spencer asked, mortified, his head barely poking out from behind the door.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped between laughs, “it’s just that I can see your butt in the mirror.”

Completely horrified, Spencer slammed the door shut and banged his head on it. “Can we please forget about this?” he groaned, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Absolutely not! You have the cutest ass I’ve ever seen!” Y/N called out, her laughter echoing through the room.

Spencer felt his face burn even more as he dried off and quickly dressed. When he emerged from the bathroom, he avoided eye contact with Y/N, who was still chuckling softly, a wide grin on her face.

“Ready for bed?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye, clearly still amused by the situation.

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment as he climbed into his side of the bed.

They settled into their respective sides, the awkwardness from the bathroom incident lingering but slowly giving way to a more comfortable silence.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” Y/N said softly, turning off the bedside lamp and snuggling under the covers.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, settling into his pillow and trying to calm his racing thoughts.

As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, Spencer couldn’t help but smile. Despite the awkward moments and his own nervousness, he felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt since that last summer. This weekend, for all its surprises, was turning out to be something special. And as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

— 

When the room’s phone began ringing with a wake-up call in the morning, both Y/N and Spencer groaned at being woken up. Y/N stuck her arm out, grabbed the phone, and hung it up to stop the sound rattling in her head. Much to her surprise and gratitude, she was not hungover, just very tired. She went to roll over to go back to sleep when she noticed her body was being restricted by multiple different body parts, none of which belonged to her.

Spencer had one arm around her waist, his other beneath his head, one leg on her hip, and the other between both of her legs. The man had wrapped himself around her like a human octopus. He was also awake, not having slept through the wake-up call, but was paralyzed out of fear or embarrassment, maybe both.

Y/N felt him tense up and his breathing grow rapid, signaling that he was awake. “Well, good morning to you too, Dr. Reid. Or is it Doc Ock?” she teased, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Spencer mumbled, his face burning with embarrassment.

“I know I am, thank you,” Y/N said, a smirk playing on her lips.

They lay in silence for a few more moments, both of them thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the other's body pressed against their own.

“So, not that I'm complaining, but were you planning on letting me go anytime soon?” Y/N asked, amusement evident in her tone.

“Oh god, yes. I'm so sorry,” Spencer said, hurriedly trying to disentangle himself. In his haste, he managed to rub his morning wood against Y/N’s ass.

“Jesus, Reid! Any of your other body parts you want to touch me with?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, nope. Actually, I think I'm just going to open the window and jump out. I think the 15 floors will kill me,” he said, his voice muffled from behind his hands that were hiding his extremely red face.

Y/N laughed softly, reaching out to gently pull his hands away from his face. “Hey, it’s okay. It happens,” she said, her tone reassuring. “No need to jump out the window.”

Spencer looked at her, still blushing but grateful for her understanding. “Thanks, Y/N. I’m really sorry about that.”

She shrugged, giving him a playful smile. “It’s all part of the fun, right? Besides, I’d miss having you around.”

Spencer managed a small smile, feeling a bit better. “I’d miss you too.”

They lay there for a moment longer, the initial awkwardness giving way to a comfortable silence. Until Y/N, unable to resist tormenting Spencer, said, “Did you want a hand with that?”

“What??” he half-squeaked, half-screamed.

Y/N threw her head back, laughing hard in the early morning light shining in.

“You’re so mean,” Spencer muttered, his face a deep shade of red.

“Aww, did you really want me to?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m not answering that,” he replied, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

“All in good time, young grasshopper,” Y/N said, patting his arm playfully.

Spencer, rolling his eyes and unable to stand Y/N’s antics any longer, got out of bed to get ready for the day. He needed coffee, and maybe 50,000 shots of alcohol. What he failed to consider was that he was still hard, in loose gray sweats, and that he was sharing a room with Y/N, the worst person, ever.

“Whoa baby! I didn’t realize you were holding out on me! Get back here!” Y/N called out, patting the bed and laughing even harder.

Spencer, mortified, ran to the bathroom, his face burning with embarrassment. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, trying to calm his racing heart. The cold shower earlier had been nothing compared to the icy plunge he felt now, thanks to Y/N’s relentless teasing.

Inside the bathroom, he took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. He couldn’t deny that a part of him enjoyed the playful banter, but another part of him was utterly overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings. He needed to collect himself and face the day, starting with a much-needed cup of coffee.

Back in the room, Y/N was still chuckling to herself, thoroughly amused by Spencer's reactions. She began getting ready, her thoughts drifting to the upcoming events of the day and the unexpected pleasure of Spencer’s company. Despite her teasing, she was genuinely glad he was there.

As Spencer emerged from the bathroom, now somewhat composed, he glanced at Y/N, who was busy with her morning routine. “Truce?” he offered, a tentative smile on his lips.

“Truce,” Y/N agreed, smiling back at him. “For now.”

They both laughed, the tension easing as they continued preparing for the day ahead. The morning light filled the room, promising a day full of possibilities and perhaps, a few more moments of unexpected connection.

—

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the vineyard as Y/N and Spencer wandered through the charming village, the scent of grapes and fresh earth filling the air. They didn’t have much to do in preparation for the wedding, so they decided to venture out in search of coffee. The village was picturesque, with cobblestone streets, quaint shops, and inviting cafés.

As they strolled, chatting about old memories and catching up, they suddenly found themselves face-to-face with a woman Y/N recognized all too well. Christa, one of the girls who used to bully Spencer in high school, stood before them. Adam had warned Y/N about all the mean girls and boys, just in case they had any younger siblings at the school.

“Oh my god! No way! It’s the baby freak and boarding school!” Christa exclaimed, her voice dripping with mock surprise and disdain.

Spencer immediately tensed, the old nickname hitting him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t been called that in years. Y/N, feeling a surge of protectiveness, stepped forward.

“Christa!” Y/N exclaimed with a bright, exaggerated smile, moving in for an overly enthusiastic hug that left Christa visibly uncomfortable. Christa awkwardly patted Y/N’s back, clearly thrown off by the unexpected embrace.

“Uh, hi,” Christa muttered, her confidence wavering.

“How are you? What has it been, 15 years? You don’t look a day over 40,” Y/N said cheerfully.

“I’m 30,” Christa replied, her tone icy.

“Oh… well, sunscreen is your best friend!” Y/N said, her voice dripping with false innocence.

Christa’s face twisted in offense, while Spencer struggled to hide his laughter behind a cough.

“Baby freak… you look exactly the same. Still scaring everyone away with your freaky genius powers?” Christa sneered, her eyes narrowing at Spencer.

“I–uh, no, I–” Spencer stammered, the old insecurities rushing back.

“Spencer, here,” Y/N said, emphasizing his name, “is not a baby, maybe compared to the looks of you. And he is not a freak, unless you want to talk about more private matters, but judging by the turn of your nose and the stick up your ass, I’m going to go ahead and assume you have no idea what I’m talking about. How long has it been since a real human touched you?”

Christa was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to come up with a retort. Finally, she sneered, “I bet Spencer’s never been touched by a human ever.”

Spencer looked down, his face turning red with embarrassment, feeling like the insecure 12-year-old all over again.

“Really? Like this?” Y/N said, pulling Spencer down into a kiss before Christa could say another word.

The kiss was brief but intense, and when Y/N pulled back, Spencer’s eyes were wide with surprise, his cheeks flushed. Christa stood there, stunned and utterly speechless, unable to come up with a reply.

Y/N turned back to Christa with a triumphant smile. “Awe, Christa, you look like a fish. Never speak to me or my boyfriend ever again, okay? Okay, sweetie. So good to see you!”

With that, Y/N took Spencer’s arm and led him away, leaving Christa standing in the middle of the street, fuming and defeated.

As they walked away, Spencer glanced over at Y/N, his heart still racing from the unexpected kiss. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Y/N squeezed his arm gently, a warm smile on her face. “Anytime, Spencer. You deserve better than people like her.”

They continued their walk, the tension from the encounter melting away as they enjoyed each other’s company, feeling closer than ever before. The weekend had taken another unexpected turn, but this time, it was for the better.

—

After grabbing their coffee, Spencer and Y/N realized they still had plenty of time before they had to start getting ready for the wedding. The charm of Napa Valley beckoned, and they decided to indulge in one of the region’s finest offerings: wine tasting. The idea seemed perfect, a way to enjoy the beautiful vineyard and create some new memories.

They made their way back to the vineyard and signed up for a tour. As they strolled through the rows of grapevines, Y/N kept her hand looped around Spencer's arm. It felt natural, a comforting closeness that neither of them felt the need to mention. The guide led them through the process of winemaking, from grape to glass, sharing interesting tidbits and answering questions.

Once the tour concluded, they were led to a private table on one of the many balconies the vineyard’s main building had to offer. The view was breathtaking, with rolling hills and endless rows of vines stretching out under the clear blue sky. A tasting flight of wine was set before them, each glass glistening with rich, inviting hues.

Y/N took a sip from the first glass, savoring the flavor before turning to Spencer. “So… about earlier,” she began, her voice soft.

Spencer nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “Yeah. That was… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Y/N said, looking at him earnestly. “I just couldn’t stand her talking to you like that.”

Spencer shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You didn’t overstep. It was… nice. Surprising, but nice. No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”

Y/N blushed slightly, taking another sip of her wine. “Well, you deserved it. She was horrible.”

Spencer glanced at her, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the wine. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything. It’s been a long time since I felt… protected.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome. And for what it’s worth, you could have handled it really well all on your own. I just… wanted to make sure she knew she couldn’t mess with you.”

Spencer chuckled, relaxing more as he took a sip from his glass. “You definitely made that clear.”

They continued their tasting, discussing the nuances of each wine, but the earlier conversation had brought them even closer. The view, the wine, and the company made for a perfect moment, one that felt both nostalgic and new.

As they moved through the tasting flight, they found themselves laughing and reminiscing about old times, the tension from the earlier encounter long forgotten. The vineyard, with its serene beauty, provided the perfect backdrop for reconnecting, and they both felt a sense of peace and happiness that had been missing for too long.

Y/N looked out over the balcony, her hand still resting lightly on Spencer's arm. “I’m glad we’re here,” she said softly. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” Spencer replied, his voice equally soft. “It’s like coming home.”

They clinked their glasses together, a silent toast to new beginnings and cherished memories. The weekend held more surprises, but for now, they were content to simply enjoy each other’s company, letting the wine and the moment carry them away.

“Speaking of home… do you think you’d ever come back?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

“To Las Vegas?” Spencer replied, looking at her curiously.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, feeling somewhat hopeful.

Spencer took a moment, thinking it over. “I’ve never thought about it, really.”

“Oh, I guess if I left, I wouldn’t want to come back either,” Y/N said, a hint of sadness creeping into her tone.

“Y/N… it’s not that. There’s just nothing there for me anymore.”

“Yeah, nothing,” she said bitterly, sipping her wine.

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant,” Spencer said quickly, his eyes wide with concern.

“It’s okay, Spencer. You don’t have to pretend. We haven’t talked in over a decade. I can’t blame you,” Y/N said, looking down at her glass.

“Y/N–” Spencer began, but she cut him off.

“I’m going to head back and get ready. Can you give me an hour alone, please?” she asked, her voice strained.

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer said softly, his heart sinking.

Y/N stood up, giving him a small, tight smile before walking away. Spencer watched her go, feeling a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and now he felt the weight of their years apart more heavily than ever. He sat there for a moment longer, staring out at the vineyard, before deciding to take a walk to clear his mind.

The serene beauty of the vineyard provided some solace, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N. He realized how much he had missed her, how much he had missed having someone who understood him. The years had created a distance between them, but he hoped that this weekend could be a step towards bridging that gap.

As he wandered back to the room an hour later, he knocked softly on the door, giving Y/N the space she had asked for. He hoped they could find a way to reconnect, to rebuild the bond they once had. The weekend was far from over, and he was determined to make things right.

— 

By the time the ceremony rolled around, Y/N and Spencer hadn't talked yet but took their seats next to each other. Spencer tried to apologize again, but Y/N brushed him off, telling him it was okay. The ceremony was beautiful and didn't drag on too long. Y/N cried, and Spencer put his arm around her shoulders, letting her cry on him.

They took their seats for dinner after, being seated again with her parents and close family. Though her parents weren't there for the rehearsal dinner, they were now. Spencer was extremely nervous, having never gotten a good read on Y/N and Adam's parents before. All he knew was that they shipped their young children off to boarding school and then left them home with hired staff more often than not.

As the first course was being served, Y/N's mother eyed Spencer with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. “Y/N, who is this man you brought?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Mother, this is Spencer Reid. He grew up with us, don’t you remember?”

Her mother pursed her lips, shaking her head. “No.”

“I’m not surprised,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Her father, catching the exchange, leaned in. “Watch your tone, that’s your mother.”

“I’m 24,” Y/N said, her voice steady but strained.

“And you’re still our child,” her father retorted.

“I’ve been financially independent since I was 18. What are you going to do? Take my salad fork?” Y/N shot back, her frustration evident.

Her parents rolled their eyes in unison. “No wonder it’s your brother getting married and not you,” her mother sneered. “You were always so bitter. Determined to hold grudges.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open, ready to fire back, but Spencer quickly intervened. “Actually, Y/N and I have been together for what, 2 years, darling?” he said, his voice smooth and confident.

Y/N was momentarily stunned, but then a wicked smile crept across her face. “Yes, baby. And that present you gave me for our anniversary was so… sensual. I can still feel it,” she said, biting her lip for effect.

Spencer tried to contain his laughter, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looked at Y/N. 

Her mother’s face turned a deep shade of red. “Y/N L/N! You are incorrigible.”

Y/N shrugged, unfazed. “I don’t care,” she said, a defiant glint in her eye.

The table fell into an awkward silence, but Spencer felt a sense of triumph. He had managed to diffuse the situation and even brought a smile to Y/N’s face. As the dinner progressed, they exchanged knowing glances, each feeling a little more at ease despite the tension surrounding them.

As soon as people were encouraged to get up from their tables, Y/N and Spencer shot up. Their first stop was the open bar, both needing a drink after enduring a whole dinner with her parents.

“Can we get an appletini and a sex on the beach?” Spencer ordered, his voice only shaking slightly.

“Spence!” Y/N yelled, hitting his arm playfully. “I’m so proud of you!”

He smiled to himself, feeling a sense of accomplishment. They stood at the bar, sipping their drinks as they observed the crowd. The lively atmosphere was a welcome contrast to the tension they had just experienced. Y/N’s eyes were on the couples dancing, and Spencer remembered what she had said earlier about wanting someone to swing her around the dance floor.

“Do you want to dance?” Spencer asked, turning to her.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I know you don’t like to dance,” Y/N replied, her gaze lingering on the dance floor.

“Y/N… I want to dance with you. Do you want to dance with me?” Spencer asked, his eyes earnest.

“Yes, very much,” Y/N said, her face lighting up with a smile.

Spencer set his drink down and took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. The music was a soft, romantic melody, perfect for a slow dance. As they found a spot, Spencer placed his hands gently on her waist, and Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. They swayed to the music, the world around them fading as they focused on each other.

“I can’t believe I’m finally doing this,” Y/N said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Me neither,” Spencer replied, his voice equally soft. “I’m glad it’s with you.”

Y/N’s eyes were shining. “You’ve always been special to me, Spencer.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You too, Y/N.”

Her heart raced at his bold gesture, not expecting such a move from Spencer. They stayed on the dance floor for a few more songs, enjoying the moment and the connection that had been rekindled. Eventually, Spencer took Y/N's hand and led her away from the floor.

“Spence… you’re holding my hand,” Y/N said, glancing down at their intertwined fingers.

“I am,” Spencer replied, his voice steady.

“You don’t do that,” she pointed out, her heart still fluttering.

“I don’t,” he agreed, looking at her with a small smile.

“But you are,” she continued, her eyes searching his.

“Right again,” Spencer said, his smile widening.

“Why?” Y/N asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Because I like you,” Spencer admitted, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity she hadn’t seen before.

Y/N felt her breath catch, her heart pounding in her chest. “You… you like me?”

Spencer nodded, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. “Yes, Y/N. I like you. I guess I was just too afraid to admit it before.”

A smile slowly spread across Y/N's face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I like you too, Spencer. I always have, since we were kids.”

Spencer's face lit up with relief and happiness. “Really?”

“Really,” Y/N confirmed, squeezing his hand.

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background as they gazed at each other. The years of separation and unspoken feelings seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of their rekindled connection.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” Spencer asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Y/N replied, her smile never wavering.

They walked hand in hand out to the vineyard’s garden, the night air cool and refreshing. The walk through the garden was very much reminiscent of the last time they saw each other. The path was lined with twinkling lights, casting a soft glow over the grapevines and flowers.

“Did you really not know I liked you all those years ago? I was so obvious. I did everything to get your attention,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“No, I really didn’t know. I just thought you were really nice!” Spencer replied, his brow furrowing in surprise.

“And you liked Adam,” Y/N stated, a hint of a teasing smile on her lips.

“I–I, what??” Spencer stammered, caught off guard.

“It’s okay, Spence, he doesn’t know,” Y/N said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. I could see it in the way you looked at him. It’s fine, really,” Y/N said, her voice gentle.

Spencer looked at her, his eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment and relief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward back then.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile softening. “You didn’t. I just wish I had known how to tell you how I felt. I was always so nervous around you.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him. “I was nervous around you too. I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. I guess we were both a bit clueless.”

They laughed together, the sound carrying through the quiet night. As they continued their walk, the memories of the past seemed to blend with the present, creating a sense of closure and a new beginning.

“Do you think things would have been different if we had talked about it back then?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Maybe,” Y/N said thoughtfully. “But we were just kids, and you had so much ahead of you.”

Spencer nodded, feeling content with her answer. They reached a bench under a large oak tree and sat down, the stars twinkling above them. Y/N leaned her head on Spencer’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

“I would move back home,” Spencer said softly.

“What?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with warmth and curiosity.

“I would move back home,” Spencer repeated, his voice steady. “If it meant being with you eventually. I’d come back to Las Vegas.”

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise and emotion. “Spencer, you don’t have to do that for me. We aren’t even dating.”

“I know,” he said, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. “But I want to. You were always like home to me, Y/N. Being with you feels right.”

“I would never ask you to give up your job; you worked so hard to get there,” Y/N shook her head.

“But I—”

“Stop,” Y/N interrupted, pulling away from his touch. Her heart raced, and she felt a wave of panic wash over her. “This is too much, Spencer. We’ve just reconnected, and now you’re talking about uprooting your entire life for me. It’s overwhelming.”

Spencer’s face fell, his hand dropping to his side. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just wanted you to know how important you are to me.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “I appreciate that, really. But we need to take things slow. I need time to process all of this.”

Spencer nodded, though the disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Of course. I understand. We’ll take it slow.”

There was an awkward silence between them, the weight of their conversation hanging heavily in the air. Y/N felt a mix of guilt and relief, unsure of how to navigate the intense emotions swirling inside her.

After a few moments, Spencer spoke again, his voice soft. “I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you. I just care about you a lot.”

Y/N managed a small smile, her heart aching. “I care about you too, Spencer. But let’s just see where things go, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, though the tension between them remained palpable.

They spent the rest of the evening in a subdued silence, both lost in their thoughts. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of unease, and she wondered if she had made a mistake. But she also knew she needed to follow her instincts and not rush into anything that didn’t feel right.

That night, the walk back to their room was a silent torture. Each step felt heavier than the last, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Spencer desperately wanted to fix things, but he didn’t know how.

When they finally reached their room, Y/N wordlessly grabbed a pillow and placed it between their bodies on the bed, creating a physical barrier that mirrored the emotional distance between them. The gesture was small, but it felt like a chasm had opened up.

Spencer lay on his side, staring at the wall, his heart aching. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to reassure her, but he couldn’t bring himself to cross that line. The fear of pushing her further away was paralyzing.

What was far worse, was when Spencer woke up to an empty bed and an empty hotel room. Panic set in as he called out her name, hoping she was just in the bathroom or getting breakfast. But there was no response.

The reality of the situation hit him hard. Once again, he had managed to lose one of the only people who ever felt like home. The weight of that loss settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands, trying to make sense of what had gone wrong.

The silence of the room was deafening, and the loneliness was overwhelming. Spencer knew he had to find a way to make things right, but at that moment, he felt utterly lost and alone.

—

Downstairs, Spencer was checking out when he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned around to see Adam bounding towards him.

“Hey buddy!” Adam, as broad as ever, swept him into a hug, picking him up in his excitement.

“Whoa! Hi!” Spencer laughed, caught off guard by the enthusiastic greeting.

“How are you? Thank you so much for coming. I’m sorry it’s been so crazy, I can’t believe I almost missed you!”

“Yeah, hah. Glad I ran into you,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his composure despite the turmoil inside.

Adam, unaware of Spencer's inner turmoil, continued with a big grin, “So, I heard you had to bunk with old Petit Chou.”

“Y/N? Yeah, I did,” Spencer replied, the nickname bringing back a wave of memories.

“How was it? Was it like old times?” Adam asked, his tone cheerful and curious.

“Um, no, not really. We got along a lot better,” Spencer admitted, a small, sad smile forming on his lips.

“Oh, you dog! Did you sleep with my sister?” Adam's tone was teasing, but he looked extremely pleased.

Spencer's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. We just... caught up.”

Adam laughed, clapping Spencer on the back. “Well, I’m glad you two reconnected. She always had a soft spot for you, you know.”

Spencer forced a smile, trying to push away the sadness. “Yeah, me too. She’s... she’s great.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Adam teased in a big brotherly fashion.

“So, I thought you’d be gone by now on your honeymoon?” Spencer asked.

“Oh no, Lizzie wanted to have some time as newlyweds in our house first. You know, get settled in, put all the presents away and such before we leave. She really thinks everything through,” Adam explained, love evident in the way he talked about Elizabeth.

“She sounds wonderful. I’m so happy for you, man,” Spencer said sincerely.

“Thank you, little dude. Are there any lucky ladies in your life? Lucky lads?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Huh, no,” Spencer replied, shaking his head.

“Dude, you should have totally made a move on Y/N! She yapped about you for years after you left. When I told her you were gonna be here, she practically threw away her suitcase and bought all new clothes, wanting to make a good impression or something,” Adam said with a grin.

“What?” Spencer choked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Yeah, man, she had it baddd. It was kind of cute,” Adam chuckled.

“Oh, I had no idea,” Spencer said, feeling a little bit of shock and regret.

“Well, if you’re ever in Vegas, you know who to call,” Adam said, clapping Spencer on the back.

“Yeah... where are you living nowadays?” Spencer asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“Georgia! Met sweet little Lizzie at Florida State and followed her home after graduation. Never left,” Adam replied, his eyes shining with happiness.

“That’s great, Adam. I’m really happy for you,” Spencer said, genuinely pleased for his friend.

“Thanks, man. And seriously, don’t be a stranger. If you’re ever in the area, you’ve got a place to stay,” Adam said, giving Spencer another friendly hug.

As they finished checking out, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of Y/N. He needed to talk to her, to clear the air and understand what had gone wrong. But for now, he was grateful for the brief distraction that Adam had provided. It gave him a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make things right.

—

Y/N went back home, feeling the weight of the weekend pressing heavily on her. She barely had time to sit down and process everything when her best friend and roommate, Billie, showed up at her bedroom door, armed with snacks and drinks.

“Hey, thought you could use some company,” Billie said, giving Y/N a warm hug as they entered.

“Thanks, Billie,” Y/N replied, her voice tinged with sadness.

They settled on the couch, surrounded by an array of comfort food and drinks. Billie opened a bag of chips and handed it to Y/N. “So, tell me everything.”

Y/N sighed, taking a deep breath before recounting the events of the weekend. She told Billie about reconnecting with Spencer, the intense emotions, and the difficult conversation that left her feeling lost and confused.

“I feel so silly,” Y/N said, heaving a big sigh. “Mourning something I can’t have. We live on opposite sides of the country. How would it ever work?”

Billie reached over, giving Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not silly at all. Feelings don’t follow logic. You’re allowed to feel sad, even if it seems impractical.”

“I just... I really thought maybe we could make it work,” Y/N said, her voice breaking.

“Hey, you never know what the future holds. Maybe things will change, or maybe you’ll find a way to be together despite the distance,” Billie said, their tone comforting.

“But what if we don’t? What if it’s just not meant to be?” Y/N asked, her eyes searching Billie’s for answers.

“Then it's not, you can't control what's out of your hands,” Billie said, offering a comforting smile.

Y/N nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. They spent the rest of the evening talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. While the ache in Y/N’s heart didn’t completely disappear, she felt a sense of peace over the situation.

— 

Spencer wanted to reach out to Y/N, knowing he couldn't even use the excuse of not having her phone number—one of his best friends could hack the Pentagon for fun if she wanted. But he didn’t want to face the rejection he had a feeling would be coming his way. He knew it was impractical: his job was demanding, they lived nowhere near each other, and on top of that, they didn’t even know if they would work. Maybe the magic between them only existed in the air of the wedding.

They went weeks in radio silence, both resigning to move on. They had gone 12 years without each other; they could handle some more. That is until Spencer found something in one of his luggage pockets. He was repacking his go-bag after returning from a case when he opened a pocket that he did not often use, planning to put a fresh pack of gum in there.

He quickly took the note out and opened it, seeing it was in handwriting that he didn’t recognize. His heart skipped a beat as he began to read:

Spencer,

I’m sorry for leaving unannounced. I truly loved seeing you this weekend. It was wonderful to catch up after so long apart and to see that you are still the same sweet, loving guy. I hope you never change.

I left without saying goodbye because of my own issues, not because of anything you said or did. Please understand that. You mean so much to me, and I would hate to jeopardize our friendship over something silly like this.

If you’re ever in Vegas, you always have a place to stay.

Y/N

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 11

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 3k Also on AO3

A gentle breeze greets you as you step onto the bar’s terrace, the heavy beat of the music fading into a muffled hum as the glass door swings shut behind you. Despite the warmth, the night air feels crisp and almost refreshing. The few scattered lounge areas are sparsely occupied, quiet conversations blend with the soothing ambiance, and you inhale deeply, feeling a wave of calm wash over you—a welcome contrast to the frenzy inside.  

This is the first after-party you have attended since everything changed. You had not even known there was a party after the race until Charles’ playful complaints about your absence at his podium celebration clued you in. The thought of venturing out at night had seemed daunting then—after all, the paddock had become your safe haven, a place where the routine felt familiar. But missing Carlos’ party was simply out of the question, not if you wanted to avoid the relentless whining that would surely follow. 

Your time in Monaco with Charles, and the nice lunch with Daniel, had shown you just how much of this world you had yet to explore. Especially now, when the doors to a lavish lifestyle which you had yet to grasp, had swung open for you. Despite not seeing a single euro from your ‘work’, being a famous Formula One driver sure had its perks. Tonight was a perfect example: here you were, in one of the most luxurious hotels you had ever encountered, clad in a stunning dress from your pre-arranged luggage, all without spending a cent. 

The building, perched elegantly on the edge of a tranquil river, boasts an expansive terrace adorned with soft lights that gently yield to the brilliance of the starlit sky. A secluded club, nestled on the outskirts of the city, packed with a glittering array of celebrities —actors, singers, athletes, you name it— all immersed in an atmosphere of opulence that is both mesmerizing and intense. 

You take a few steps forward, intending to lean against the railing to fully absorb the serene scenery—the subtle scent of the flowing water, the sense of liberation that the night seems to offer—, when a man seated in solitude catches your eye. 

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you approach him, the rhythmic clack of your heels on the terrace floor accompanying your steps. He is clad in a black sweater with a low neck, a big necklace hanging from his neck “What are you doing out here?” you ask, your voice light “Everyone’s inside.” 

Lewis looks up, surprise flickering across his features. The terrace lights catch in his dark eyes, turning them into an intricate constellation. “Could ask you the same” he replies with a smirk, shifting to the side of the black sofa to make space for you. “I thought you were having fun dancing around with the girls”. 

“Yeah, Alex and George’s girlfriend are nice, but everything is just...” you sink into the cushions, letting out an exasperated sigh as you lean your elbow on the armrest, fidgeting with the straps of your shoes. You take this brief moment to compose yourself, offering a distraction from the truth that feels too overwhelming to voice.  

The strangeness of the night, the unfamiliar country, and the sea of faces —some known, many not— have left you feeling adrift. The idea of being surrounded by so many people, who were supposedly mere byproducts of your imagination, was utterly disorienting. How could something so elaborate and vivid possibly be a mere fantasy? It all felt so... 

You shake your head, chiding yourself. You shouldn’t have gone out tonight —those drinks did not help either. 

With a deep breath, you decide to push those thoughts aside and opt for a lighter excuse “If they play Animals one more time, I’m jumping off the balcony, I swear” 

A soft chuckle escapes the Mercedes driver. “You better stay out here then” He takes a sip of his drink, crossing his legs and shifting his gaze from his glass to the breathtaking scenery, “I thought you liked electronic music” 

“Yeah, I do, but—wait, how do you know that?” you notice halfway into your explanation, frowning at him. It is not like you had much time to play music since you were thrusted into this situation, so where did that come from? 

Lewis shrugs, his eyes crinkling with a grin he barely manages to conceal, a trace of pride in his expression as though he is pleased to have surprised you. 

“Well, yes, I do like it” you give in, tilting your head. Despite the theories crowding your mind, you prefer not to think about that. Just for today. “I guess I’ve just gotten used to Spanish nightclubs. There’s a lot less jumping, that’s for sure” 

Although you were having a hard time back in Spain, you had made a couple friends during your external internship that liked to party until the early hours of the day. They showed you around the city, took you to some of the most beautiful places you had ever seen and were there when you were not in the mood for any of that.

It was nice, being with them, your small home away from home. You missed them, dearly.

“Oh, right. You were in Mallorca with Carlos, weren’t you?” he realizes, a teasing note in his voice that you choose to overlook.

“You know too much,” you reply with a playful smile, raising a pointing finger at him. Even if that is not the real reason, you prefer not to get into specifics. Not tonight “Yeah, Charles and I went to visit him for a couple days. It was nice, did they tell you about it?” 

Lewis shakes his head, adjusting himself more comfortably on the sofa, draping his arm over the backrest. “That bit I picked up from the articles.” 

Those photos had spread across the internet like wildfire. Both Ferrari and Haas’ media team blowing up your phones as soon as you put a foot back into the port.  

Of course. You'd almost managed to forget about the media frenzy the impromptu holiday had caused.

You barely recall how the idea for a trip came up on the flight to Monaco —something about the scorching temperatures in Monaco prompting Carlos to check the weather in Mallorca, and you mentioning you’d never been there. That was all the spanish needed to organize a full weekend getaway to the island for the three of you, all under the guise of inaugurating his new boat.  

You haven't yet worked up the courage to read those articles . Seeing the coverage about your on-track activities is one thing, clad in a costume and playing the part, but having your entire itinerary laid out online feels like an entirely different level of exposure. 

It feels like another sign that this universe is a mere construct of your imagination, there is no way they could find you on a boat in the middle of the sea. Everything feels so artificial —or, perhaps, unnervingly real. 

For a moment, you consider how ready you are to confront the topic that’s been swirling in your mind all day. Gathering your resolve, you ask tentatively, “Did you see the articles about us?” 

A quick search of your names brings up a flood of results: articles and social media posts either critiquing your supposed ambition to climb the fame ladder or fawning about how great you look together. Hundreds of photos and videos have emerged, supposedly capturing moments where you are seen looking ‘longingly’ at each other during interviews or gravitating towards one another during pre-race activities. You won't lie, you enjoy those last ones way too much. 

A brief silence falls over the scene. You lift your gaze to meet his, as if expecting something —an answer, reassurance, you’re not quite sure. 

“I did” Lewis confirms with a nod, his voice nearly lost to the breeze. 

You drop your gaze, your fingers absently tracing the seam of your dress as a pout forms on your lips. “You know, the others were teasing me about it.” 

“Were they?” his voice carries a hint of mock surprise, as if he anticipated this would come up “Who? Leclerc?” 

“No, it was Lando. And well, Daniel and Carlos too” you clarify, recalling how they were basically fuelling each other, although the mention of the Monegasque has your alarms blaring “Wait, why Charles?” 

"Oh, Daniel too?” Lewis highlights the McLaren’s driver name with a chuckle, completely ignoring your question “And Carlos... well, I’m not surprised about that one, after that...  effusive celebration” 

You give his leg a playful slap, pretending to be exasperated by the teasing. You know the journalists are going to have a field day with your hug in front of the podium. You’ve already seen a few of those photos making the rounds on social media. But it really doesn’t matter. The press can speculate about a relationship between you and Carlos, or any little interaction between you and the rest of the drivers, the truth is far less dramatic. 

Following in on his joke you mention the only driver who has been left out, “Not Lando?” 

“Maybe, who knows?” he throws the question out into the universe, his eyes steady on yours. 

Neither the universe nor you offer him an answer, only crossing your arms and letting out an exaggerated sign. Honestly, it is more of an excuse to scan the balcony’s guests, taking in their scattered forms and quiet conversations. 

Sensing the lull in the conversation, Lewis offers you a sip from his drink. You eye the glass, considering whether to indulge in another round. The couple drinks you already had still swirling around in your head, a lingering attempt to calm your social anxiety. With a slight nod, you accept the glass and take a tentative sip. The cold liquid burns its way down your throat, a sensation that makes you scrunch your nose in distaste. You promptly hand the glass back to Lewis, casting him a puzzled glance. 

What’s in there? It’s the embodiment of a poisoned peace offering. The taste lingers unpleasantly, settling heavily in your stomach. 

The British man watches with an amused smirk, barely concealing it as finish what’s left of the drink himself, finally setting the empty glass on the coffee table with a soft clink. He turns back to you, his expression now more composed, and says softly, “If you’re worried about the press, we can always give it a rest for a while. It’s fine by me” 

Although you try to conceal your reaction to the proposed solution, even Lewis is surprised at the way your eyes shot up to his. The idea of purposely avoiding each other during race events seemingly a tough compromise in that moment. Despite your growing familiarity with the chaotic world of Formula 1—two months of navigating this madness have certainly made an impact—Lewis has been a constant source of comfort amid the frenzy, a steady anchor for your sanity. 

“I mean...” you clasp your hands over your lap, nodding along to the plan, although a bit disoriented “Yeah, sure, whatever you think is best” 

Lewis catches your hesitation, reading the unease on your face. His expression softens as he opens his mouth to speak, a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air. But before he can say anything, his attention shifts to something behind you. 

“What are you doing out here?” the familiar question comes before strong arms wrapping around you in a warm hug from behind the sofa. The voice, laced with genuine happiness, whispers into your ear “I’m so happy you’ve come,” making a pleasant shiver run down your spine. 

You lean against Carlos’s shoulder, melting into his embrace as best you can with your arms pinned beneath his. The sweet scent of his cologne and the faint hint of alcohol mix in the chilly air, intensifying the comforting warmth. 

“I was chilling for a bit” you reply as he pulls away. You offer Lando a wave when he appears behind Carlos’ figure. They both sit at the sofa by your right, the older one placing his drink on the glass table, and you let out a tired sigh “I don’t know how you guys do this. I’m exhausted.” 

It is a miracle that you are still awake and attentive at this hour, let alone engaged in conversation. Normally, you’d be out like a light by now. The physical and mental demands of a Grand Prix weekend usually leave you running on fumes, barely making it through airport security as Nick guides you to the next spot on the calendar. And yet, these men —who have actually spent almost two hours driving at breakneck speeds in a state of extreme focus— can seamlessly transition to partying all night, just hours after the race. 

“I’m fine actually” Lewis instantly assures, with a shrug, leaning back into the sofa. His playful tone not fully registering until you hear Lando’s laugh. 

It has not been the best of days for the British driver. Afterall, the nasty collision that sent his car flying at the first corner, forcing him to retire after just two laps. The incident plays on a loop in your mind, the memory of his car flying across the air still vivid. You reach over and squeeze his hand. “That was scary,” you admit, the concern in your voice unmistakable. 

Lewis grimaces, an exasperated sigh rolling out of him. 

“Careful what you say, Lewis,” Lando snickers, glancing between you and Carlos with a mischievous grin. “We’re in an Alonso slander-free zone here.” 

Carlos shoves Lando playfully to the side, and you are quick to interject, your voice a touch louder than needed. “Yes, we sure are!” you assert, refusing to let anyone criticize the Spaniard. Especially when you, with your limited but growing F1 knowledge, are certain the collision wasn’t at all his fault. “And you are one to talk anyway, we’re not in a Lando slum-, what was it? well, whatever-you-said free zone...” 

Alright, your English is beginning to falter. Not a good sign. 

The implications of your jab seem to strike a chord in the younger man, who abruptly incorporates himself in the sofa, curls bouncing over his head with the motion. He clasps his hands together and leans over his knees, ready to argue his case “Oh, really? Let’s talk about it, then” 

You’re equally eager to dive into the debate, fuelled by a mix of liquid courage and post-race indignation, he almost smashed his car into yours mid-race. You have not suffered through a two-hour post-race debrief for nothing “Well, first of-” 

Eyes wide, hands frozen in the air, you hear it—a familiar beat filtering through the club’s glass door. “Oh!” The word slips out as a huge grin spreads across your face. You recognize the opening notes immediately, and your gaze darts to Carlos. “Gasolina, ¡Carlos! ¡Gasolina! ¡No me lo creo!” 

You leap off the sofa, excitement bubbling over as the music pulses from inside the club —though you feel a tad bit lightheaded. Your sudden movement draws the attention of nearly everyone on the balcony. Realizing this, you offer a sheepish smile and a quick wave in apology before lowering your voice. “C’mon, let’s go inside,” you urge Carlos, practically bouncing on your heels. The thought of dancing to the iconic song fills you with a giddy anticipation. 

But the man doesn’t move. Instead, he stares at you with a bemused expression and groans, “I just came out here!” 

Your enthusiasm wavers as you glance between him and the door, a pout forming on your lips. You really want to head inside, to lose yourself in the music for a while, but the idea of going alone feels daunting. You have had enough encounters with strangers claiming to know you for tonight. Maybe Carlos’ presence would act as a deterrence, or at least steal all the attention. Plus, you simply want to enjoy the song in the Ferrari driver’s company. 

The excitement slowly dies when you watch him pull a tired grimace, the strain from the day probably catching up to him once the adrenaline was finally wearing off. 

With a tilt of your head, you ask one final time, “No?” Your voice is softer now, tinged with a hint of defeat as you begin to turn back towards your seat. 

Just before you can sit back down, Carlos reaches out and grabs your hand, prompting you to help him get up from the sofa. He rises with a slow stretch, shaking his head with a resigned chuckle. “I don’t even like dancing” he complains, though his grip is firm and reassuring as he stands beside you. 

You beam up at him, grateful for his company. You gesture to Lando and Lewis, inviting them to join, the mix of alcohol and excitement making your nerves tingle. Yet, although they both seem entertained by your enthusiasm, they decline your offer as quick as you extend it. 

With a shrug, you turn back to the club entrance, Carlos following reluctantly. His light-hearted complaints become background noise as you bob your head to the rhythm of the song. “Por fin ponen una buena y tú... (They finally play a good one and you...)” you tease him, but suddenly feel a tug on your hand. 

You look back at the driver, confused by what made him come to such a sudden halt, and find him greeting someone. Well, not just someone. 

“Charles!” you exclaim, quickly leaning in to hug him, your hand still linked with Carlos’s. 

The man’s face brightens with a warm smile. “How are you? Haven’t seen you all night.” His light eyes sparkle as they meet yours, but there’s a flicker of curiosity as they glance at the linked hands between you and Carlos. 

“I’m fine! We’re going in ‘cause I love the song, want to come with?” you hastily explain, the rhythm of the song already arriving to the chorus fuelling your eagerness and not mixing well with your foggy brain. 

His smile wavers slightly, gaze bounces between you and Carlos as he finally decides that “No, it’s alright. I’m going to cool off for a bit. You guys have fun.”. 

Charles watches you disappear into the flashing lights and thumping music, turning back toward the dimly lit terrace. The night now feeling just a touch colder. 

Author's note: I was missing writing so much, hope you liked it. Thank you all so much for reading, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

[inkeyjay]

🫀 Eucharist of the Ravenous 🫀

It started out as a bellyache, guts rumbling after two days of barely eating. An unfinished visage, featureless, fixing the blurry sockets it had for eyes into his soul.

The humble priest dropped his brush onto the cold floor of the chapel and stumbled backwards. The walls, towards the ceiling, all full of still fresh perfect faces framed by golden halos, that he had been carefully painting non stop for days. Faces of dead saints and prophets, long gone, commissioned by the high church as a display of power and opulence in an age of religious and political crisis. And this last saint, the one that still had some loose and tired brushtrokes for it's face. There was something about it that made the priest flinch out of his creative trance. He swore the paint moved, vibrated with anticipation at the touch of the brush.

He laid tired in the center of the chapel, exposed to a hundred pair of eyes that almost felt judgemental, knowing of the priest's internal thoughts. "Why am i doing this" "Why do i have to over exert myself with work to survive while i use pure gold to embellish... You. This" "Why"

And the faces remained still and silent.

"Why all this for long gone martyrs that had the fortune to die for their for their beliefs, or to let their God speak through their lips, bestow miracles through their fingers"

"Why this for a God that let them die at the heretical hands of the non believers. That leaves hundreds if not thousands of people to die of the pestilence outside this golden, rotten, WALLS"

The bottle of turpentine exploded and its contents dripped down the wall, dragging hours of work with them, dissolving like acid false flesh and gold leaf alike. And then blood, through the priest's hand, holding the neck of the bottle. He panicked and kneeled towards the wall, trying to undo the mistake with cloth, only to make a bloody mess. Red running through the gold, ichor like.

The priest cried holding his hand, a deep wound running through his palm, burning because of the chemicals. But the pain was not the cause of his tears.

"A sign" "I just need a sign"

But the faces remained still and silent.

The priest got up, slowly, and turned around towards the door. Why be here then. Why remain hungry, at the mercy of a dying church that kept their riches safe in mausoleums and layers of paint upon gold leaf upon stone, while its believers died in the streets famished and sick. The priest saw it clear now. If God did ever exist, it was long gone, uncaring for its creation. He might as well die outside, with his people. It would be like inviting the sickness into his chest but at least his last breaths wouldn't taste of incense. His steps echoed through the chamber, determined, reaching for the doors.

But the faces opened their lips. And with a cacophony of voices, each one vibrating with a torrent of beating wings, It spoke. No.

It sang.

Super happy to finally be able to show you this illustration i made for Tome of Pacts, a zine about warlocks, patrons and their pacts! There's a leftover sale going on right now! This is Pantheon, a shapeshifting entity that impersonates long absent gods and feeds on the faith of their followers, always hungry for more. But it's not for me to tell you.

! First of all, credits to @/gothhoblin, the writer of our team, for helping shape out this Patron "...and it spoke with a cacophony of voices, each one vibrating with a torrent of beating wings, a thousand or more." Is a marvelous line of her creation.

Tome of pacts has 11 more patrons and 24 warlocks for your enjoyment, all beautifully depicted by teams of artists and writers. Im super proud to have been able to participate in this project 💛

This short story is about an original character i created after the patron, just as an appetizer, pun intended. You get it right??

Hungry for a copy?

[many-sparrows]

Jesus was really right when he said the poor will always be with us. A lot of christians have struggled with Matthew 26:11, and it has caused a lot of people to subconsciously justify a de-prioritizing of the poor; we can bedeck our churches in opulence while people starve. We can make priorities of everything that makes our lives easier, and leave the hard work of caring for the poor for later, for our "thoughts and prayers." The poor will always be with us, so they can wait while we attend to our internal hungers.

I think what Jesus meant is that human greed will corrupt every system, which will always result in poor or disenfranchised people. We've tried a bunch of different socio-economic structures since then, and not one of them has worked to uplift all people. The eternal struggle against evil isn't about fighting off intangible demons, it's about fighting off the evil in our own hearts. We are never going to construct a "perfect system" that eliminates poverty automatically because someone will always try to take advantage of it. Instead, we must work every day, even when things are good and people are taken care of, to make sure that we see each other as deserving of dignity. We are never going to be able to legislate, dictate, or delegate our way into perspective. We have to work towards it, consciously, to make sure those around us are cared for. Vanity of vanities, a generation goes and a generation comes, but the poor remain forever.

The poor will always be with us because someone is always going to try and profit by depriving others. It is our mission and responsibility to improve as much of it as we can.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Chapter 11

Warnings: murder, general death, Azriel, gore

Word Count: 3,549

-Part 10-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s been simmering away long before he turned you. Maybe even before he met you. Bubbling and festering deep in the marrow of your bones, suppressed and denied over and over until it became something awful and ugly, untameable and unstoppable once it’s leash finally snapped. Wreaking devastation with wide-grinning teeth, talons that snicker-snack through flesh, crushing corpses beneath its leather covered paws.

You can feel it cracking open an eye, a slimy, translucent film beneath its lid, opening blearily, fully fledged at last, and ready to wreak havoc on everything around it.

And you know just the place to begin your destruction, how to set the doomsday in motion.

The twisted fucker that got you into this situation in the first place.

—————

It’s been a long time coming, this selfish sense of justice that you need to bring.

How many other women and innocents have they murdered in the name of mild boredom. The devil makes work for the idle, and their palms are softer than cotton. Easier to shred through.

Night hasn’t even fallen when you crawl up the walls of the palace, built in the centre of the citadel, able to see the priestess’ temple from the high crenellations. In a fleeting thought, you wonder what she’d think of your actions, if she’d condemn them or turn a blind eye for the sake of your own suffering. But she won’t be spared either—she should have warned you. Not sat you down over a cup of tea and given out her own simpering story.

Your claws hook over the balcony, effortlessly hauling yourself into the boy-king’s chambers. Take in the gaudy and lavish spread, undeserved opulence at its finest, long past the line of decadence. Nobody needs a golden chamber pot beneath their bed, no matter how well they eat.

Heightened senses pick up the beat of two hearts outside the door, filthily-paid guards positioned at the entrance, and your forked tongue flickers out over dark, rubbery lips. Drool drips onto the floor, but you pay it no mind, snaking silently across the marble before flinging the doors from their hinges. Blood splatters and bone splinters beneath the force, glittering talons making a wretched mess of the spurting bodies, unthreading sinew as you crush their lungs beneath your paw, the steel of their weapons nothing against the raw hide coating leathery limbs. At your back, your tails thrashes, gouging slashes in the stone as spikes slice through marble, putting breaks in the castle that nearly broke you.

Your nostrils flare, picking up the scent of someone young, blood too sour to enjoy laced with the overripe flavour of age. The sag of skin practically a flavour in and of itself as you skitter down the hallway, scrambling up the walls, clambering along the ceiling as you spot a familiar pathway, ones you’d been forced up when you were human. A human woman with bare feet and scrappy clothing, still shot through with remnants of sickness.

The great hall looms before you, and your pulse spikes, screaming for you to loose hell on the people within. Your back arches in a stretch, easing your muscles into working condition, warmed from the earlier blood-bath.

With a flick of your great, thrashing tail, the massive doors cave in, being flung from the frame in a crash of dust and stone. It doesn’t even take a minute before the guards within are splattered upon the pristine walls, dripping blood and viscera onto pretty, marble floors. Staining the stained glass red.

The boy-king screams, a high pitched wail that grates on your ears as you slither through the hall, only to come to a stop at the foot of the dais, watching as an acrid smelling liquid drips from the too-large throne where he’s cowering. Blacked-out eyes flick through the room, but the advisor is no where to be found, fury lighting you ablaze, rage rippling through your soul as magic pulses through the room, shattering the glass, sending bloody fragments raining down on the gardens below.

You hardly feel his tiny bones crack beneath your palm, as simple as squashing a fly—the difference being you’d feel bad about the latter, stealing food from the spider. Hot flesh is crushed into the floor, leaving a mushy pile of indiscernible parts dripping from the throne, iron mixing with ammonia.

Again your nostrils flare, heart pounding with bloodlust as you search for the man who’d sentenced you. Who’d been responsible for casting you out into that forest, beyond reason.

A broken cry sounds from the entrance, and you whip around, rubbery maw sharpening into a grin as you find your meal, held upon narrow, shaky legs that wouldn’t make more than a mouthful. His eyes are round and terror-filled as they take in the hell-beast you’ve become.

Shadows writhe at your wings, crowing them in a corona of darkness, tail thrashing and tearing at stone.

The advisor stumbles back on doddery old legs, stumbling and tripping as he falls on his bony behind, hands scrambling as he frantically pushes back from you, like a baby trying to crawl away. Razor-sharp teeth glitter, kept clean and pristine, waiting to be used.

You prowl forward, excited to take your time stripping his skin from his skeleton, feeling it peel from his flesh. Claws click on the marble floor, ticking like the second hand of a clock as you revel in the rising scent of his terror, so many wonders afforded to you with this new body.

His mouth opens in soundless scream, a wet gasp rasps from dry, old lips, hot breath wheezing from sinking lungs.

You press your paw over his chest, pinning him to the ground as his skeletal hands weakly rub at your fingers, trying to remove the great things from spearing him entirely as they curl into his back, tearing at sagging muscle. You wish you could gloat, could tell him who you are, see if he remembers what he did to you. See if he remembers being the one to suggest leaving you to the devil you’d sold your heart to in order to be cured from the plague.

His eyes are wide and glassy…the old man with already fading hair and wrinkles that swallow his eyes beneath flaps of loose skin.

The memories pour in, the rope biting into your wrists, weakness coating your muscles…eyes as black as the devils. The look alone had been enough to have nausea roiling in your stomach, threatening to upend it right there on the marble floor you’d been shoved to. Eyes that had swallowed you whole—black like you’d never seen black. Dark as pitch.

(alarmingly void, more than anyone’s have any right to be…and lacking in definition. Just one solid layer glazing across the obsidian coloured surface. Depthless.)

Terror-stricken blue eyes stare up at you, watery and weak as they strain and bulge beneath the pressure on his chest.

Ice glazes through your veins, blood freezing over just as a wave of pure power slams into you, throwing you back through the hall.

Your head cracks back against the marble, spine aching from the shockwave and you slide down onto the floor, collapsing behind the throne before slithering back to your feet, snaking down the dais. Eyes locking with cocoa.

There’s a brief moment of sorrow that flashes. It’s hardly noticeable, and passes before you can fully grasp it, but it’s enough for her to slip in.

Elain raises her thyrsus, knocking its base against the floor, a thrumming wave of power gathering in a shield as your talons clack against the stone, warily prowling forward, mouth watering to sink into his flesh. Cocoa flicks through the room, finally taking in the carnage—the blood splatters, and splintered fragments of bone dripping from the dais you’re standing on. The warped and crushed corpse of the young king.

“What have you become?” She breathes vehemently, delicate brow narrowing over cold eyes, shields rising up and locking down, sceptre spinning in her hand as she sets one foot before her, the other behind at five o’clock, pointed outward. A snarl rips from your chest, watching as she takes up a defensive position between you and the exit—between you and the rasping advisor. Between you and your meal.

Before you can think properly, you’re darting forward, faster than a shadow, shooting across the floor as talons crack down on her shield of magic, the staff appearing as a way from her to convert her power into a weapon. Burning rage pounds through your skull, yearning to obliterate as magic gathers at your fingertips, rubbery lips stretching into a grin when it coats your claws, slicing through her barrier.

She’s thrown back in the room, robes skidding through cooling pools of blood until she reaches the threshold of the caved-in doors. Glee beats in your chest as you skitter forward, the sound of leather stretching as your grin widens, showcasing gleaming rows of razor-sharp teeth, ready to rip and shred to your pleasure. The staff has been knocked from her tender hand, and she grapples for it as you scuttle closer, speeding up the closer you get until darkness is building at your back and your wings are flared in a display of dominance, keeping her pinned to the bloody marble with shadows.

Incisors glitter in the light as your jaws part above her, preparing to bite down and end when steel wreathed in fire slides beneath your throat. “Step away from her.”

Eyes flick up, jaw locking as stinging, searing pain lances down your right collar bone, bleeding into your shoulder as your gaze locks with a whirring, mechanical eye. Golden and russet narrows with unforgiving fury, glowing like the flames from a forge as the blistering steel raises in warning before pulling back. Fire sparks across the floor, aiming for your limbs to burn you alive as he spins, making to slice the blade across your throat.

Darkness flares out of nowhere, colliding with rampant and furious fire, and you’re thrown back as another figure joins the fray. One that’s packed with deadly power, great wings wreathing his back as he looms over Lucien.

“Step aside, Azriel,” the male hisses, flame licking up the walls, heat sweltering.

“Put the blade away, and I’ll consider letting you keep your other eye,” he drawls lowly, syllables dragging like gravel from his throat. Fury gathers in the room, settling like oil over your skin, so heavy and greasy you can feel it practically weighing you down.

“Look around,” Lucien snarls, flame deepening with sizzling rage, held in check by a leash of thread. “Your mate has killed dozens of humans, as well as trying to murder mine.” His power flares on that last word, as if instinct is roaring at him to protect but he’s restraining it. “Put. Her. Down.”

Even through your haze of anger, the words clang through, reverberating across leathery skin, hackles raising at the threat.

Azriel shifts on his four great paws, wings flaring menacingly as a snarl rips from his throat, settling between you and the male. “You look after yours and I’ll look after mine,” he growls, darkness taunting flame, building steadily at his back.

A little further behind Lucien, Elain shakily pushes up from the pool of blood, a trembling, pale hand reaching for her staff, brimming with a pale light. With a flick of her wrist, the magic flares, beaming like a spear for the unprotected underside of his throat. Faster than thought, faster than instinct, you’ve shot across the marble, skittering beneath his front left paw, jaws snapping viciously as your own power grates against Elain’s before sending it careening off, gouging marble from the crumbling castle.

Tension ripples as the four of you are locked in on one another, senses keyed to the slightest movement, waiting for the coil to snap so the others can be torn to shreds.

The room explodes in glittering black, razor sharp talons clicking skittishly as power splits your two sides apart, blasting a wall of physical adamant between you, just translucent enough for Elain and Lucien’s figures to be wrought in shadow.

Azriel’s body lowers, both in a bow and in a circle of protection, paw shifting forward to keep you tucked beneath him. Instinctively you follow, curling back into his power, tail pulled tight—ready to lash out.

The darkness simmers away, revealing the tall, powerfully hewn figure of a male. Wickedness practically drips from his finery, raven-black hair pushed neatly back from his brow as sharp violet eyes settle coldly over the scene. A wave of dread ices across your skin, a weight dropping in your belly as you take in the immense power that’s rolling from his shoulders—a god.

Azriel doesn’t so much as breathe different, but his shadows gather beneath you, thick and lush like a rug of black wool, drawing his magic in closer as a circle of protection. A suggestion of defence.

“Azriel.”

The voice is deep and icy, dripping with malice, and the spines at your back prickle. Your own magic weaves through with his shadow, hiding in plain sight but ready to spring free as fear pools in your stomach.

Violet flicks through the room, taking in the splatters of blood, dripping viscera, then his gaze locks with yours. It’s a new kind of fear, you realise, being singled out by a being so much greater than you are, and you shrink away, pushing back into the protective power of the male above you. His stance broadens, covering more of you as great paws settle further apart, braced for sudden movement.

“What happened here?” The god doesn’t remove his attention from Azriel, but it’s clear the question is not addressed to him. The shadowy wall fades entirely, and your gaze shifts to the two figures opposing you, Elain having gotten to her feet, robes soaked in blood, staff gripped dismally in her hand with grim determination.

“Your brother let his mate run free,” Lucien replies lowly, tone like gravel—lined with restraint. “She tried to kill Elain.” Fire brightens before again banking, as if being soothed by the reminder of her presence at his side. Sharp, violet eyes once again cut to you, “is that right?”

You manage a quiet snarl, fear drumming in your pulse, paws shifting like a great cat preparing to pounce. Muscle coils tight with terror at being faced with the god, having his attention settle like ice over skin, preparing to rip away. His sharp eyes narrow on you, and you pull your magic tighter.

Is that right? He repeats, and you recoil into Azriel’s chest, flinching as the god’s voice echoes through your mind. Through your peripherals you can see as a frail body starts to life, gangly limbs trying to heave up his torso as the king’s advisor return to consciousness. Once again you shift on your paws, hissing viciously at the trembling man, blood and vomit coating his front as he takes in the four beasts before him. Five.

“She wouldn’t kill Elain,” Azriel growls from above you, shifting his paw to block your line of sight from the advisor. “I wasn’t asking you,” your god replies coldly, attention pinning you to the ground as violet bores into you. “She won’t be able to speak yet,” Azriel bites out, power thrumming at your paws, curling up your arms, brushing at the leathery hide you’ve been coated in. “She changed less than a week ago.”

“Then why weren’t you watching her?” Lucien growls sharply, eyes blazing.

The god casts a warning glance at the fiery male, but does no more than that, evidently also seeking an answer.

Azriel shifts above you, and you can feel the oiled gears of his mind clicking effortlessly, spinning his information into a silky web. “I was,” he growls, gaze turning to the god appealingly. “You know as well as I do everything is well warded. The only way she could have escaped is if someone let her out.”

“If someone let her out?” Lucien echoes disbelievingly. “Those wards are practically impenetrable. It would be impossible to unlock them from the outside.”

“Lucien’s correct,” the god drawls icily, gaze drifting to Azriel’s, warning glittering in their depths. A timer counting down as his patience begins to fray, the metallic scent heavy in the air. Azriel makes no obvious moves, but you can feel his frustration curving around your bones, wrapping you tight to him.

It seems the god senses his hesitance, pouncing on the second of indecisiveness. “Don’t try and hide things from me,” he bites out coldly, power weighing heavily in the air, so intense it sets your iron stomach churning.

A muscle feathers in Azriel’s jaw, before charcoal eyes raise to violet. “She wasn’t going to make it,” he growls lowly, resentment coating his tongue. “Elain can attest to that.”

Violet flicks to hardened cocoa expectantly, but the priestess is already watching you, peering beneath a strained brow. Her jaw is tight, but she gives a curt nod, fingers still bone white around her staff. “That’s true. We both saw her before,” she answers, gaze briefly meeting Lucien’s. “She was feverish and already going into delirium. It’s unlikely she was going to survive.”

The god’s attention returns to Azriel, the edges of his irises slightly thawed but remaining hard.

“She was going to die,” Azriel repeats, words pulled taut as they leave his tongue. “She had to go through the Pit, or she wouldn’t have survived.” The three figures stiffen preternaturally, colour draining as something cold and awful settles uneasily across the room.

“The wards were likely weakened from residual magic,” he grits out, still keeping you wrapped beneath his shadows, as if trying to keep you hidden from them. “Enough for someone to get through.” You press a little closer into the lines of his body, tension beginning to drip away, releasing its hold on your heart. “They’d already tried to take her once. They thought this would be their chance to get back at me.” Shadows writhe across the marble floor, flaring with concealed rage, fury manifesting in his power.

“You think your brothers caused this?” The god asks slowly, eyes once again touring the room, filled with drying gore. Azriel nods, and you begin pulling slowly at your magic, gathering it close to your skin, preparing to jump.

Tension and fear knots your stomach, twisting in vicious carvings as you keep yourself coiled tight beneath the solid frame of Azriel’s form, keeping pressed tight.

Cold violet flicks over the squashed carcass of the young king, distaste passing through his features. “You’re telling me your brothers created a gap in your wards, and she managed to do all this before you noticed?” The god drawls skeptically, voice clean-cut like glass. Azriel’s talons pierce the marble floor. “She went through the Pit,” he repeats lowly, “she’s much stronger than—”

The advisor starts in your peripherals, body jerking to life as the contents of his stomach is heaved upon the floor.

Your tail cracks like a whip, coil snapping free, splattering pieces of flesh against the already blood-caked windows.

Body obliterated in the blink of an eye, before curling back tight to your paws.

Silence buzzes across the room, four pairs of wide eyes watching as bits of intestine drip from the sill, pooling in a gouged-out puddle in the floor. Almost immediately Azriel’s own tail is curling around you comfortingly, shadows stroking at your sides as if to lull you back into a state of ease, soothing the wild drum of your heartbeat, tail twining with your own.

Cold power raises from the floor, darkness thrumming in warning as tension buzzes in your ears, having them flatten against your head.

“How much blood did you give her?” The god’s tone puts fractures into your bones, like rock grinding against rock, grating on your soul.

“As much as she would take,” Azriel replies quietly, and you feel his attention brushing affectionately over your leathery skin. Silence reigns heavily, stretching out as you huddle back into his power, wanting to escape from the immense power of the god.

“You did what?” Elain breathes, eyes wide as she stares at Azriel, grip tightening on her sceptre. She seems to be the only one of the three capable of formulating a response, something blazing in her eyes. “She was going to die, Elain,” he snarls protectively, body settling closer to you. “Because you neglected her,” she hisses, brown eyes cold and hard as they bore into the male. “You plucked her up out of her life, you refused to properly care for her, you were the one who refused to teach her anything because she wasn’t what you wanted.”

Azriel’s snarl is like thunder breaking across the heavens, marble trembling beneath your claws, and you settle against the sound.

Yet it doesn’t seem to bother the priestess.

“If she was the one who tore all these people to shreds,” she breathes, pale blue light blazing from her staff. “It is because you put that anger into her.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 2 - Le premier bonheur du jour

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: What happened while you were blackout drunk? What is your actual job on the crew? Why is there a lion on this pirate ship? These questions and more are left unanswered as you stumble your way through your first day on Captain Buggy's crew.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Word Count: 6.8k

“The first delight of the day Is a ribbon of sunlight It's the fresh breath of the sea And it’s the beach that awaits The first sorrow of the day Is the door that closes shut But soon after you come back And my life resumes its course."

x

Waking up, all you knew was that you were cold. Freezing, really, shivering so hard that you felt your bones tremble. It was because you weren’t dressed properly. You never slept in your underwear. You forced your bleary eye open and looked off the side of the bed, spotting your bag haphazardly abandoned alongside your boots and bandana. Bracing yourself for the chilly air, you pulled the blanket along like a cape to grab your bag, quickly retreating. Even that small movement left your head spinning painfully, a headache pounding twice into your skull, once at the base and again at the left temple. At least all of your clothes were clean, even if they had been mushed into a wrinkled ball. Moving as fast as possible you put on leggings and a sweater, tugging your fingers through your hair before pulling the bandana over your eye. After that, you huddled back under the blanket, staring at nothing and waiting for the shivers to stop. 

Between the headache and the cold, the only thing you wanted was to go back to sleep. That was the best way to deal with pain, or chills, or hunger, or whatever else you felt. If you were asleep, those things became automatic, you didn’t have to deal with them. 

You were halfway under when somebody knocked. 

At first, you hoped it was in your head. A dream. They knocked again, louder, calling your name. That was the thing to wake up the part of your mind that had been sleeping so soundly, that made you realize how wrong the situation was. 

Slowly, you sat up, looking around. You had slept in a bed that did not belong to you, wearing nothing except your underwear, in a room you had never seen before. The bed itself was set into the wall and hung with thick, velvety curtains. Windows lined the far wall, but they were covered enough to let in only the barest amount of light with more curtains and a familiar Jolly Roger, one with a red clown nose. After you recognized that, everything else fit into place. The desk littered with shiny clutter, the red and white theming, the odd mixture of grunge and opulence. You were on a ship. 

The person knocked again. Growing nervous, you threw off the blankets and pulled on your boots, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You had to cross through an anteroom to get to the door. It exchanged a desk and bed for couches, but was fundamentally the same. The air was cold. You opened enough so you could peer through the crack. Crina stood there, looking impatient. 

“So you are alive,” she said, giving you a once over with smokey dark eyes. “Barely.”

You opened the door a little further, blinking against the light. “What time is it?” you asked, your voice hoarse. 

“Nearly noon. Some ships were spotted so we had to leave earlier than expected, I’m surprised you slept through it all.”

You blinked, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Everything was blurry, bleary, a puzzle with a picture so worn you couldn’t make sense of it. 

“Did you have fun last night?” Crina asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I… I guess…” you said, confused. You remembered the drinking, and talking, and laughing, but the specifics were lost in a blurry whirl. “What time is it?” 

Crina rolled her eyes. “Okay, come on. You shouldn’t be in there.” She didn’t wait to see if you complied before turning around. You followed, stumbling a bit before getting your balance and shutting the door behind you. “Those were the captain’s quarters, and these are the officer’s rooms,” she said as you passed a few more doors. 

“That was Captain Buggy’s room?” you asked, your brain chugging to play catch up. The headache was awful. 

She shot you a frown over her shoulder. “You don’t remember?” 

“No.”

She shook her head, although you couldn’t see her expression. “We’re going down to the officer’s mess. Careful on the ladder.” 

She turned from the narrow hall to an equally narrow drop of steps, easily descending. Dizzy and a little sick, you didn’t match her grace, but you managed to avoid falling. 

With your recollection of the ships you had been on when you were young, you expected the officer’s mess to be fitted with elegant yet utilitarian finishings. Modest, but not so much that it forgot civilization. And, in another life, perhaps it had been. Now it was a pirate vessel, and they did what pirates always did. Various props lined the walls, batons and boxes and fabric and wheels and all kinds of other things. Red and white striped banners hung across support beams as if to mimic a big top tent. Signs of age and destruction were everywhere, indication of the tumultuous seizure, but it had once been a fine vessel. Crina didn’t pause to let you gawk, indifferent to the decor as she led you to another narrow hall and turned. You got an odd sense of deja vu there, pausing. 

“Are we going to the infirmary?” you asked, steadying yourself against the wall. 

“Yes,” Crina said as she unlocked the door. “You’ve sailed before?” 

“When I was young,” you said. “My dad was-” You cut yourself off there, realizing that the end of that statement wasn’t something you should reveal. Marines were the enemies of pirates. It wouldn’t look very good if you suddenly revealed that you were the daughter of a Marine Captain, retired or not. “That was a long time ago.” 

“I see,” she responded impassively, opening the door for you.  

The smell hit you hard, like a brick to the face. Scent formed a sort of endless memory, one so ingrained into your mind that you didn’t know exactly where it came from, that you couldn’t remember independently but never forgot. Your body locked up, arrested by the familiarity. Perhaps it was what every ship infirmary smelled of, even masked with the sweet aroma of incense and smoke.

“What are you doing?” Crina asked. 

You shook your head quickly, holding your breath as you hurried in. It wasn’t like it was actually the same. The room looked far more like a place of mysticism than medicine, with a rainbow of glass bottles lining the far wall, herbs hanging to dry, and scarfs draped to hide the stark wall. It wasn’t even slightly the same. Slowly, you released your held breath. It was fine. 

“Sit,” Crina told you, shutting the door and immediately busying herself at the sideboard. You sat down on the table-like bed set into the wall, your shoulders and head immediately drooping. The surface was hard, meant for surgery rather than sleeping, but you didn’t care. With the weight of your head, you would have happily drooped down onto the floor. “Have you ever been drunk before last night?” 

“No.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“Tired,” you answered. “My head really hurts.” 

“Of course it does, you’re dehydrated,” she said, pouring water into a tin cup. The sound alone perked you up, made your parched tongue that much more dry. She added a spoon of powder before turning and offering it to you.

“Thank you,” you said, taking the cup. You intended to take it slow, but the second you got a taste of water, you couldn’t stop until it was gone.

“That’s two times,” Crina said when you were done and wiping your lips. “Two times that I could have poisoned you.” 

You frowned, looking down at the cup and back up at her. “That was medicine, wasn’t it? Like before.” 

“It’s already in your body, it doesn’t matter if you know what it was.” 

You averted your gaze, flushing. “I’m sorry.” 

Crina didn’t respond to that, approaching you instead. “How’s the bump on your head?” 

“It’s fine,” you said reflexively. It hurt, of course. It would hurt for a while. 

“May I check?” Crina asked. You hesitated, but eventually nodded, turning to give her access. The second she prodded the sore spot, you yelped, tears springing into your eye. “Ice will help with the pain and swelling.” She paused, smoothing your hair back into place. “Did you and Buggy have sex last night?”

“What?” you asked, whirling around. The quick movement did not help your sore head, sending little sparks of pain down your spine, your left temple thumping in protest. 

“You slept in his bed after a night alone on the ship, it’s not an unreasonable question. Everybody will assume, but I’m asking you. Did you and Buggy have sex.” 

“No!” you said, blushing furiously. “No. Captain Buggy wouldn’t… I can’t… There’s no way.”

“Earlier, you didn’t even know it was his bed. Could something have happened and you don’t remember?” Crina asked, her tone softening. You stared at her, stricken, your heart racing with sheer panic. “I’ll ask you another question—Is there any chance that you could get pregnant?”

“No,” you said, rubbing your face to hide the blush, feeling a little sick. Surely you would remember if something happened between the two of you. You didn’t even remember how you got into his bed. What you remembered was the warmth, and the saccharine sweet desire, and… Nothing. “He wouldn’t… do that. I wouldn’t.” 

“I’m not here to judge you,” Crina said. “And I don’t want to embarass you. Do you remember when I warned you about consequences? This is one. Sex is fine, but if you get pregnant, you either get rid of it, or he gets rid of you. It’s better to avoid pregnancy in the first place—safer too. I can help you with that.” 

She let that hang in the small room, waiting for your response. You had none, unable to so much as look at her. The thought of having sex was enough to make you wish the world itself would open up and swallow you whole. More than that, it was absurd to think that any man, let alone Captain Buggy, would bother with a one-eyed midget. It was disgusting to even entertain the notion. You were disgusting. 

Eventually, Crina sighed. “When you need contraception, tell me. You have to look after yourself, god knows that no man will. But that’s all I’ll say on the subject. Do you want more water?” 

You opened your eye. She held out the jug like it was a peace offering, which you accepted after a moment. There was no added powder this time. You wouldn’t have cared anyway, you emptied nearly half the cup before your sloshing stomach uneasily warned you to stop. 

“Those bruises on your wrists are impressive,” Crina said. “May I take a look at them?”

You winced, fixing your sleeve to cover the discoloring and wrapping your hands around the cup to keep them from shaking. “They’re fine.” 

“They look painful,” Crina said, leaning against the sideboard with her arms crossed, fixing you with a stare you didn’t like. It hadn’t been a question, but her silence made you want to answer. 

“I’m fine,” you insisted. She still said nothing, just looking at you. It made you squirm uncomfortably, the table creaking. “I was sick a lot when I was little,” you explained. “I’m better now, but I still bruise easily and… It’s fine, my dad says it’s normal.” He said it was expected for a child, especially a girl, to be a little more breakable. You were weak. Frail. That was why you got hurt so often, got hurt by things that shouldn’t have hurt you. 

“He says that it’s normal for you to have bruises? Did he tell you that broken bones and fat lips are normal too?”

“No… No, that was all my fault,” you said. “Because I’m not careful, I don’t ever think about how weak I am—because I was sick.” 

“What kind of sickness was it?” Crina asked.

You shook your head quickly. “I-I don’t know.” 

“What were your symptoms?”

“I was… sick.” 

“Dizziness, headaches, fatigue, chills, anything like that?” 

“I don't… Maybe. Some of those are because of the accident too.” You touched your bandana, tugging it down to ensure it was covering as much of the scar as possible.

“So you still have symptoms?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” you told her, flustered by the relentless questions. “I’m fine.”

“Why did that man, Randall, claim you were mentally unwell?” 

“I’m not,” you said, shaking your head, searching for the right answer, the one that she wanted. “He only thinks that because my dad… My dad worries about me. After everything that happened, he worries a lot.”

“Is that why you ran away?” 

You shook your head, staring down at your lap. Crying now was embarrassing, you focused your entire self on fighting the sting of tears in your eye. Trying to cover it up, you adjusted the bandana again, desperately forcing your thoughts onto something, anything else. 

“If it were up to me, I would not have medically cleared you to be here,” Crina said. “Asking you to perform any physical labor is out of the question, and you’re frail. It is more than likely that you’ll suffer severe injury by the end of the year.”

“I’m not weak anymore,” you said through clenched teeth, soft enough that she couldn’t hear that you were crying. “I’m okay, really. I’ll get stronger.”

“You can’t fix stunted development,” Crina told you. “But it’s not up to me. I’ll do what I can to help you as long as the captain insists upon keeping you around.”   

Your shoulders heaved with a dry, pathetic sob. 

“Finish that water and we’ll go to the galley to see about getting something to eat,” Crina told you. “Cry now, if you need to. After that, you’re going to have to be someone else’s problem for a while.” 

Crina’s medicine and some food had helped you feel better. The headache remained, a stinging, painful reminder of the past night, but you ignored that as you emerged onto the main deck. Sunlight blinded you and the wind whipped your hair into an unruly mess, the oppressively humid salty ocean air staggeringly familiar. Not all memories were bad. Really, some were good. Since your dad was a surgeon, he was allowed to bring you along to help. Fetching things, bringing meals, cleaning up, running messages, helping tend to the wounded. Back then, you were his sweet little girl.

You shook your head clear of those thoughts, squinting through the sunlight to look around. You were looking for Cabaji, Captain Buggy’s Chief of Staff. A man with green striped dark hair and a blue checkered scarf and, according to her, a sour expression. From the description, you would have thought he’d stand out, but it seemed like Buggy’s entire crew could be described with equally colorful traits. Most of them were busy with some task or another. Those who noticed you watched with expressions ranging from unimpressed to hostile. To your great relief, you didn’t see the blunt-featured Ivo anywhere.   

Assuming you would find the man by the quarter deck, you headed in that direction, trying very hard to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Strangely, your unassuming sweater and leggings made you the odd one out instead of helping you blend in. Eyes made your skin crawl as you passed. Did they all think you had slept with the captain? Crina’s words bothered you. They bothered you a lot. But if the two of you had done something, there would be evidence. More than just a missing dress. 

Hesitating at the steps, knowing it wouldn’t be appropriate to approach the quarter deck without invitation, you stalled out. People were still looking at you, likely wondering what you were doing. You didn’t know either. There, caught in a cycle of anxious uncertainty, someone passed right by you. At first, it didn’t register, but then you blinked and turned. Dark hair, checkered scarf. 

You rushed to follow him, relieved. 

“Excuse me,” you called. Nothing, although the deck was terribly noisy. You had to rush to keep up. “Excuse me, sir?” 

Nothing. He was walking so fast too, with a grace and balance you couldn’t hope to match. 

“Excuse me!” you called, reaching out to touch his arm. Your hand missed the first time, catching air. The second attempt connected, and that finally got a reaction, albeit a slightly violent one. You pulled back, narrowly avoiding his elbow. He turned around, searching at eye level before looking down at you. “You’re Cabaji?” you asked. 

“I am,” he said. 

“Um… I’m-” 

“I know who you are,” he said, cutting you off. “We met last night when you were boarding the ship.”

“Really?” you asked, taken aback. The entire previous day was blurry. Except where it wasn’t, but you couldn’t think about that. “I’m sorry I don’t… remember.” 

His eyes narrowed. “What do you need?” 

“I was hoping to talk to you. If you’re not busy, sir.” 

“I am,” he said, clearly irritated.

“Oh. Right. Is there anything I can help you with, sir?” you asked. “I’m not busy.” 

Cabaji looked at you critically. “Do you know where the kitchen is?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Go down and pick up Captain Buggy’s lunch then wait for me on the bridge. I have to take care of something first. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded, eager to have something to do. “I’ll be quick.”

“Just don’t mess it up.” 

With that, he turned and stalked away. 

Having a task reinvigorated you. You probably drew just as many eyes, but now it didn’t matter as much. How many times had you been tasked to serve meals when you sailed with your dad? Countless. It was something you could do, a way you could contribute. 

Descending back down into the dark belly of the beast, you had to be careful. Last time you were on a ship, you had both eyes. Although you had gotten used to it in so many ways, you had even been able to scale the southside buildings, the sea required a different type of balance. 

“Back for more?” The cook asked when he saw you, his round cheeks ruddy from working in such a small, hot space. “I haven’t got any scraps, you’ll have to beg somewhere else.” 

“Cabaji asked me to pick up Captain Buggy’s lunch,” you told him, unsure if you should be offended by the comment. 

He looked you up and down, his mouth twisting. It was the same look Cabaji had given you, even similar to the way Buggy had sized you up. Nobody lingered on your bandana like the people in town, far more concerned with your size. “If you drop it,” he told you, grabbing a silver tray to put into your hands, “I’ll be frying up your skinny rump instead.” 

“I won’t, I promise,” you said. 

“When the captain’s done, you bring that back to me. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better hurry then.”

With a final awkward nod, you made your way back up, extra careful with the tray. It was already getting easier to find your balance. You didn’t care if anybody was watching you as you crossed the main deck, all of your attention on not dropping the tray. If you messed up your first task as a part of Buggy’s crew, you’d be better off tossing yourself into the water. 

Unfortunately, Cabaji wasn’t on the quarter deck. The door into what you assumed would be the navigation and office was closed, but that was probably where Buggy would be dining. 

Standing there quickly became awkward, the sun piercingly bright and the tray getting heavier and heavier. You looked around for Cabaji a final time before going into the map room. It was empty, but on the other side of the sliding doors, you heard voices. Cautiously, you circled the large center table, intending to knock. The map, however, drew your attention. You knew it. You had seen it before. Your town was a burgeoning center of trade traffic, and so new routes needed to be mapped for merchant vessels to facilitate that growth. As a retired Marine, dad was always willing to help out with that sort of thing. He was well connected. Respected.  

One of the pirates had stolen the map right out of your own home. 

Before you could figure out how to feel about that, the door into the captain’s office slid open. You jumped, nearly dropping the tray as you turned around. A man with a white fur vest stopped at the threshold, his eyes immediately narrowing.

“Who are you?” he asked, his tone unnervingly accusatory.

“I… Um…” 

“Well, well, would you look at that,” Buggy called. You looked around the man to see Captain Buggy at the other side of the office, sitting behind a big desk with his feet up on its top. “She’s standing and everything, I’m impressed. After how wasted you got last night, I thought you’d be out for the whole day.”

“I brought your lunch, sir,” you said faintly, not knowing what else to say. 

“It’s about time,” Buggy said. “I’m starving. Bring that over here.” You entered his office, nervously skirting around the man who was still glaring at you. 

Just as you set the tray on Buggy’s desk, avoiding meeting his eye, the other door opened. You looked over your shoulder to see a very displeased Cabaji come in. 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” Cabaji said as he crossed the map room. “I told her to wait for me out there.”

“Don’t worry about it, I was meaning to get you two in here anyway. Mohji, Cabaji, this is my new cabin boy—er, girl. Woman?” Buggy looked at you inquisitively. “How old are you?” He shrugged it off just as quickly, taking the top off of the tray. “Whatever. I had one, but that didn’t work out. An artist of my caliber doesn’t need a spineless yes-man to run my errands, I need a protégé that I can mold into something really special. I knew you were just the girl from the minute I saw you… Wait, no… No, I knew it from the moment you said that you would happily serve me for the rest of your life.” He grinned, cutting off a chunk of meat. “Yeah, that was it.”

You shuffled awkwardly, trying very hard to avoid looking at any of the men. It was true, but when he said it like that, it took on a far different tone. They had to be drawing the worst conclusions. 

“So, you two,” Buggy continued, talking at Cabaji and Mohji through a mouthful of food, “make it clear to everyone that she’s a part of the crew. I don’t want to hear shit about special treatment or whatever. Except for, you know, if anybody messes with her I’ll feed ‘em to the lion. Maybe that’ll perk him up, eh Mohji?” 

“Yes, sir,” Mohji said.

“Great,” Buggy said. “Cabaji, you can take the afternoon to show her the ropes. Make sure she’s up to snuff.”

“What about crew inspection?” Cabaji asked. 

“I’ll be here to help Captain Buggy with that. Your presence isn’t necessary,” Mohji said, looking at Cabaji with what you thought was a hint of animosity.

“I don’t need either of you to judge talent, that’s my business,” Buggy said irritably.

Neither man responded to that, but Buggy’s annoyance dissipated quickly.

“One last thing. Be careful with her,” Buggy said with a wink, his mood shifting yet again. “Don’t get fooled by the whole one-eyed innocent thing, she’s a real freak.”

“Understood,” Cabaji said, deadpan. 

“Great. Now get out of here. She starts tonight.” 

“Yes, sir,” Cabaji said, grabbing your elbow and pushing you in front of him so he could basically herd you out of the room, past the uncomfortably familiar map, and back into the sunlight. 

He shut the door and pulled you to the side, shooting it a wary glance before looking back at you. “Next time,” he said, “do what I tell you. I don’t care about whatever relationship you think you have with Captain Buggy, you will follow the orders that are given to you.” The implied or else was obvious from his intense stare. Part of you wondered what the or else would be, although the other part didn’t want to know. 

“I understand,” you said, bowing your head. “I’m sorry, sir. And I don’t… Captain Buggy and I don’t have any kind of relationship. Last night, we didn’t do… Didn’t do anything. I swear.” 

“That’s not my business,” Cabaji said. 

“I really mean it,” you muttered, although you could tell he didn’t believe you, and you thought about what Crina said, and waking up in your underwear, and you felt sick in a way that had nothing to do with a hangover. 

“We should get started,” Cabaji said, ignoring your weak objection. You swallowed hard and nodded. You had a job now, you needed to focus on that.

The first thing you learned about being a pirate was that you had next to no idea what you were doing. There were hundreds of things you needed to learn simply about living on the ship before you could begin learning your job, whatever that entailed. The biggest problem was how quickly you wore out. Cabaji was accustomed to being on a ship and athletic, you were neither. Having such a bad headache didn’t help. As the afternoon passed, Crina’s medicine wore off. If it were only the one hammering your temple, you could handle it, but the lump on the back of your head pulsed with every heartbeat, sending fresh sparks of pain down your spine every time you moved your head. 

Like a wind-up doll slowly running down, you fell behind. It was only a matter of time before you collapsed, his voice fading out and the world blackening on the edges. You didn’t do something as dramatic as fall, but you distantly felt your legs fold beneath you, too rubbery to support you anymore. 

“What are you doing?” Cabaji asked, stopping. 

“‘m fine,” you said automatically, your voice faint. “Sorry. I’m fine. I just need a second.”  

“Are you sick?” 

“No, jus’ dizzy,” you said, trying to get your bearings.

Cabaji knelt in front of you, tilting your head up with a hand beneath your chin. Your eye spun, his face blurring.   

“Let’s take a break,” he said, dropping your chin and standing up. 

You might have protested, but the truth was that you very badly needed a break. It was embarrassing, but it would be worse to pass out. So you accepted Cabaji’s help getting your feet, the world blackening on the edges. Fortunately, the officer’s mess wasn’t a long walk, and you gratefully dropped into one of the chairs. Cabaji sat opposite you, his dark gaze unwavering. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but his stoic intensity made you squirm. 

“I’m really sorry, sir,” you said. “This won’t happen again, I promise.”

“It’s alright,” Cabaji told you. “There are things we should discuss. About your role on this ship, and about your duty to the captain.” 

That made you bristle, but you forced yourself to relax. He was your senior officer, this conversation was necessary. “Okay.” 

“Captain Buggy is a very unique man. He demands a lot of his crew, especially those who serve him directly. As his Chief of Staff, it is my responsibility to ensure you’re able to meet those demands. Your failure would reflect very poorly on me.”

“I won’t fail,” you told him sincerely, if a little defensively. “I promise. I-I know what a cabin boy does. I’ve sailed before, sir.”

Cabaji leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes narrowing at you like you were stupid. “Were you listening to what he said? Captain Buggy didn’t hire you to be his gopher or attendant. He gave you an official job to acknowledge you as a member of the crew so the others don’t mess with you, that’s it.” 

“Oh, um,” you said slowly, frowning, “maybe I misunderstood. I’m sorry, sir.” 

“We all know why you’re actually here,” Cabaji told you. “I’ll teach you how to perform basic duties, but your only concern is serving Captain Buggy. You will provide him with whatever he wants—will do anything he asks of you. You do not tell him no, or question his judgment.”

There was an implication bubbling beneath his directions that made you skin crawl, thinking again of what Crina said before, but you forced yourself to ignore it. Cabaji said earlier that it wasn’t his business, and it wasn’t. 

“I understand, sir,” you told him instead. “I really do.”

Cabaji’s demeanor softened slightly, his head tilting to the side. “No, you don’t. I’ve known people like you. Children who grew up on the streets, or malnourished ship slaves. Small. Frail. Weak.” He spoke bluntly, though without malice. “Add in your lack of skill and experience, and you’ve got no idea what you’re in for.” He sighed, leaning back. “I’ll do what I can to help you. As I said, your failure would inevitably become mine as well.”

“I won’t fail,” you muttered softly, staring at your knees, your headache hammering at the back of your skull, down your spine. 

He shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

When you thought about being on a ship, it was with the experience you had on Marine vessels. Strict order, stricter schedules, and militant discipline. What you didn’t think about was exiting the hatch from the lower deck to see a circle of pirates loosely gathered around a nearly empty spot in the middle of the deck. Nearly empty, except for a lone man beneath a makeshift spotlight. Music crackled out of a speaker, providing him a beat to follow for his routine. It looked like a dance, although not one you had ever seen.

“What’s going on?” you asked Cabaji as he came up behind you.

“Crew inspection,” he told you. “These are the new recruits.” 

You watched the man for a moment before your eyes strayed past the spotlight. Captain Buggy wasn’t hard to find. He leaned against the railing with crossed arms, his dark silhouette cutting through the sunset. Although his scowl was only barely visible, tense displeasure underscored every aspect of his posture. 

Following the flourishing swell in the music, the pirate ran from one corner of the emptied area, using his momentum to do a flip. To you, it was one of the most impressive things you had ever seen, but he landed wrong. A sharp intake of breath rippled over the gathered crew as he stumbled, unable to save it and falling down onto one knee. 

“Stop,” Buggy said, pushing away from the railing, waving his hand to stop the music. “Just stop. I’ve seen more than enough.” 

The pirate got to his feet, his head bowed in deference as Buggy approached him. 

“Was that a joke?” Buggy asked. The man didn’t respond. Without the music, a very loud hush had settled over the entire deck, even the flapping sails and creaking wood quieting down in the face of Buggy’s temper. “You’re all in on it, right? Because if you performed like this in front of an audience, the only thing they would do is laugh.”

The pirate muttered something you couldn’t hear. Buggy leaned in with wide eyes to listen.

“You’re hungry?” he repeated. The man spoke again and Buggy nodded sympathetically, his anger suddenly gone. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that you were hungry.” He grabbed the man by the shoulder, smiling. “You shoulda said something sooner.” 

Without any warning, he struck the man in the stomach, using the grip on his shoulder to push him to the side. 

“How about some food for thought,” Buggy said, raising his voice as he strolled into the center of the impromptu stage. “I hired you, all of you, because I need talent worthy of my show. That’s what you signed up for. So where is that talent? All I’ve seen today is shit so bad it’s stinking up the deck. I oughta let every single one of you good for nothing nobodies starve until you can give me something—anything—that I can work with.” 

Everybody in the circle shuffled uncomfortably, most of them bowing their heads rather than meet Buggy’s eyes as he looked at each one in turn. 

“We’re done here, go get some grub,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll try this again after you’ve had time to reflect on your failure.” With that, Buggy stalked out of the circle towards the quarter deck.   

“Go get the captain’s supper,” Cabaji told you. “Bring it to his office.” 

“Oh, um. Yes, sir,” you said, nodding.

Cabaji left to follow the captain, and you joined the flow of people going down. It was a solemn group, full of stormy expressions and whispered dissent. You felt a bit of that yourself. Captain Buggy seemed amused by your lack of talent last night, but would that hold? You didn’t have any unique skills, and especially not anything even approaching as impressive as the acrobat from earlier. The only answer that came to mind was Crina and Cabaji’s sickening assumptions. But if that was true, Buggy would have said something. 

It had to be more simple than any of that. He wanted somebody who would be loyal, obedient, and could perform the boring quality of life tasks that captains were too busy for. You just had to prove that you really were the best person for that role. 

Food was already being served to crew members who were not among the new recruits, taken from the kitchen to the mess by other younger pirates. Nobody paid you any mind while you nervously hovered, unsure if you were meant to wait in line or not. You didn’t want to keep Buggy waiting, but you didn’t want to cut in front of anybody and draw attention to yourself. Your indecision was ended by the ruddy-faced cook recognizing you from earlier, giving you the captain’s tray without any further comment. Your skin crawled with the weight of the eyes that tracked you, watching you quickly take the tray and hurry out of the kitchen. 

Working against the flow of people was more difficult than following it, and you had to stop twice to catch your breath, the dizziness from earlier returning. 

The main deck had returned to something like normalcy when you returned. The spotlight had been exchanged for lanterns and crew members had returned to their duties. By now the sun had fallen very low, casting the ship in a smoky haze of near dark. You crossed the deck with your head down, watching your feet to make sure you didn’t trip on anything. 

There were no lights in the map room, just an illuminated line between the doors into Buggy’s office. As you got closer, you could hear Cabaji’s low, calm voice. You had taken too long, and you were a little winded, and Buggy was already unhappy, and part of you wanted to stay in the dark until you could calm your breathing and think of a good reason for making him wait. Instead, you knocked. 

“Come in,” Buggy called, and you opened the door, blinking as you entered his well-lit office. “Took you long enough.” 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said, hurrying to his desk to set down the tray. 

You half expected him to berate you, but he only rolled his eyes, looking back to Cabaji. “You were saying?” 

“Once we seize another ship, we can remain in that area. Those waters are thick with smaller supply vessels and that-” 

“Boring,” Buggy said, cutting him off with a loud enough voice to make you wince as you pulled the lid off the tray. “All of this. It’s all completely uninspired. I’m not gonna drum up any buzz by doing the same tired act as everybody else. People don’t give a shit about small fry supply vessels and shithole villages in the middle of nowhere. You know what makes people pay attention? Giving them something they’ve never seen before. Artistic vision—does anybody else on the ship understand that?” 

Cabaji didn’t say anything. What was there to say? You knew the flint-like look in Buggy’s eyes, in the tone of his raised voice. Any response could be the steel to start a fire.  You didn’t dare draw any attention to yourself, trying to remain as small as possible in the tense silence. A silence that was broken by the door opening loudly. Mohji walked in without knocking, a leatherbound book under his arm. He seemed to realize that he was interrupting something too late, nervously looking from Cabaji to Buggy. 

“I’m sorry to-”

“Did you get what I asked?” Buggy cut in brusquely, his mood shifting yet again to business. 

“Of course, Captain Buggy,” Mohji said. You took that as your cue to leave, passing Mohji with your head down to catch the door from fully closing. 

When you raised your eye to watch where you were going in the dark map room, a pair of eyes reflected back at you. It took a second for your brain to process that what you were seeing was real, but then you yelped in fear, stumbling back into the office and landing hard on your butt. 

“What was that?” Buggy asked from the other side of the room, amused.

“There’s… something in there,” you said, scrambling to get to your feet. “An animal.” 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Buggy said, nonplussed. “Why’d you let him in there? Everything’s gonna smell like wet dog.” 

“Richie doesn’t stink,” Mohji said. Realizing how his clipped tone might come across, he lowered his head respectfully. “Captain.”

“That was a dog?” you asked. 

“A lion,” Mohji corrected.

“A lion?” you repeated, your voice thin. 

“He won’t hurt you,” Mohji said dismissively. 

You nodded as though you understood. Even Cabaji looked more exasperated than concerned. They made it seem like it was no big deal, like lions weren’t terrifying wild animals that you would never want to meet without a set of bars between you. Even if circuses generally had animal acts, allowing one of them to wander around freely couldn’t have been safe. 

“Don’t look so scared,” Buggy said. “Not even Richie would bother trying to eat you. Not nearly enough meat.” 

That was obviously your prompt to leave. Between the embarrassment of staying out of fear and getting eaten by a lion, you decided that the second was at least more dignified. Still, you could feel the cold sweat on the back of your neck when you slipped out of his office and into the dark room. Hidden in shadow, the only thing you could really make out about the creature was its size. How could it even live on the ship? 

Slowly, you circled the table opposite where Richie laid, keeping your eye on him to ensure he didn’t move. You were nearly to the door when you heard the lion growl. Jumping in fear, you stumbled the last few steps to wrench the door open with shaking hands, practically slamming it shut out of terror that the beast would follow. 

Several seconds of silence from within convinced you that you were safe, scurrying away with only a few backwards glances to ensure you weren’t being followed. 

When you reached the bottom of the steps on the main deck, you stopped to breathe. Maybe from wearing yourself out physically, and definitely from being afraid, your head ached with an agonizing pulse, as if the pain were generating a heartbeat of its own. All at once, an overwhelming sense of alienation froze you inside. You were surrounded by strangers, stuck on an unfamiliar ship, there was a lion on the loose, and your only tether to a life you weren’t physically cut out for was a man you barely knew. And the day wasn’t even over. 

The wave of exhaustion that rolled over you at the thought of all you had left to do was almost enough to knock you over.

Squeezing your eye shut and rubbing your temple, you forced all of those thoughts away. It didn’t matter if nothing made sense, or if you were making a mistake, or that you were afraid, or that you were in pain. Those things never mattered, not when you had things to do. During all those dark months after the accident, that’s what dad said. Submitting yourself to service was the best way to deal with unwanted feelings, to express your grief in a way that could benefit others, and therefore be a salve to your wounded heart. 

All that mattered now was proving your own worth to Captain Buggy through service. You could do that. 

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 3 - Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Words Count: 1,810

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Bucky woke with a sore body, the stiffness a stark reminder of the physical toil from the previous day. Accustomed to the luxury of a comfortable bed, high-quality pillows, and a butler ready to attend to his every need, the reality of his new surroundings hit him like a jolt.

Groggily rubbing his eyes, Bucky surveyed the unfamiliar room. The rustic charm of the farmhouse was a far cry from the sleek, modern aesthetic he was accustomed to. The absence of a butler waiting at the ready only added to his disoriented state.

"I miss my old life," Bucky muttered, his voice tinged with a grumpy edge. The absence of the usual pampering he received back home left him feeling out of sorts. His gaze lingered on the simple furnishings, a stark contrast to the opulence he was used to.

As Bucky reluctantly swung his legs over the edge of the bed, he winced at the soreness in his muscles. "What was I thinking?" he mumbled, questioning the wisdom of his impulsive decision to take on the challenges of farm life.

The realization struck him as he stepped onto the cold, creaky floor – no butler, no high-end breakfast awaiting him. In this new chapter of his life, Bucky Barnes was on his own, starting with the most mundane task: preparing breakfast.

Bucky turned on his phone, half-expecting a call from his father. No calls. A sigh of both relief and disappointment escaped his lips. The absence of his father's voice on the other end left a void that forced him to confront the reality of his situation.

Bucky stepped outside with his phone in hand, cradling a warm coffee cup. The aroma wafting from the beverage provided a momentary solace, a small comfort amid the unfamiliarity surrounding him.

Grateful for his ability to make his coffee and his father's provision of a regular coffee maker, Bucky took a sip, savoring the rich flavor that greeted his taste buds.

Intent on enjoying the morning view, Bucky ventured further into the surroundings. The tranquil beauty of the farm at dawn, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of city life, began to work its magic on him.

However, his peaceful contemplation was interrupted by an unexpected sight – the familiar farm tractor from the previous day was in motion, navigating the plot he had been tasked with.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, attempting to process the scene. To his surprise, it was Y/N at the wheel, diligently working on planting barley seeds. A grumble escaped Bucky as he checked his watch. "It's still 7 a.m," he remarked, realizing the early hour. Approaching the tractor, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance.

Y/N halted her work upon spotting him and wasted no time in delivering her verdict. "You're late," she declared, her tone laced with irritation and amusement.

Bucky, taken aback by the unexpected accusation, retorted, "This is the earliest hour I wake up." His attempt at justification fell on deaf ears as Y/N remained unimpressed, making it clear that Bucky was running on a different schedule in the world of farming.

Y/N hopped off the tractor, her boots landing on the soft earth as she faced Bucky. "I've planted some of the barley seeds, and now it's your turn. Show me what you've learned yesterday," she instructed, a no-nonsense tone underscoring her words.

Bucky, feigning surprise, questioned, "You did? Why did you help me?" A playful smirk danced on his lips, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"So it's quicker for you to go back," Y/N deadpanned, her response devoid of sentiment.

Putting on an exaggerated expression of disappointment, Bucky remarked, "And here I thought you could become my new best friend." His attempt at humor earned a half-hearted eye roll from Y/N.

Seated in the tractor again, Bucky took a deep breath, gearing up for the challenge. As he began driving, Y/N kept a close watch, her gaze assessing his every move.

Bucky, still grappling with the intricacies of the tractor, found himself navigating the field with a mix of uncertainty and determination.

After a few moments of awkward maneuvering, Bucky couldn't suppress his curiosity. "Am I doing it right?" he asked Y/N, seeking validation.

Y/N, maintaining her stern expression, nodded. "Not bad for a beginner," conceded. "But remember, the key is steady hands and focus. Precision is everything in farming."

Bucky, trying to absorb the newfound knowledge, muttered to himself, "Steady hands, focus, precision."

Bucky spent the entire day toiling under the sun, planting the barley seeds row by row until the sun dipped below the horizon. Exhausted but satisfied with his progress, he parked the tractor and surveyed the vast field he had cultivated. Y/N, recognizing that Bucky had successfully handled the task independently, decided to visit him.

To Bucky's surprise, Y/N approached riding a horse, showcasing a side of farm life he hadn't encountered in the city. As she dismounted, Bucky couldn't help but express his awe, "Your horse is cool. Why didn't you tell me you have a horse?"

Y/N, brushing her horse gently, Y/N explained, "This baby is afraid of cars and could kick with her strong legs. Do you want her to destroy your precious Ferrari?"

Realizing the potential danger to his luxury car, Bucky quickly responded, "No, thank you."

Y/N chuckled at his reaction and then pulled something from her bag, handing it to Bucky. "Here, my mother made this for your dinner."

At the mention of 'dinner,' Bucky's stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. He blushed, hoping Y/N hadn't heard it, but she seemed unfazed, pretending not to notice. With a smile and a friendly goodbye, Y/N left Bucky to enjoy the homemade dinner. 

Bucky, feeling rejuvenated after a satisfying dinner and a hot shower, was grateful for the delicious meal Y/N had provided. The exhaustion from the day's farm work seemed to dissipate, replaced by a newfound energy. His phone rang as he changed into fresh clothes, contemplating the slower pace of life in the countryside.

Seeing his best friend Steve's name on the screen, Bucky casually answered, "Hey, Rogers."

With a chuckle, Steve asked Bucky if he had managed to survive his first day. Bucky responded with a dry, "Haha, very funny," acknowledging the stark contrast between his city life and the challenges of farm living.

The conversation between friends continued, with Steve genuinely curious about Bucky's experiences. As they talked, the topic shifted to the practicalities of earning money quickly in the rural setting. Knowing that farming took months and years before yielding profits, Bucky sought advice from Steve.

In response, Steve suggested an unconventional idea. "Why not try live streaming or making a vlog about your daily farm life?" Steve proposed. "You've already got a bunch of followers on social media. It could be a unique angle, and who knows, it might kickstart something."

Bucky's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "That's a good idea! I've got the audience, and people love a good lifestyle change story," he remarked. The prospect of sharing his journey on social media seemed like an exciting venture and a way to leverage his existing platform for financial gain.

As Bucky considered the potential of this new endeavor, he couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. 

Feeling refreshed on the second day, Bucky decided to up his game for the vlog. He brushed his hair and wore stylish yet comfortable clothes that reflected his city-boy flair adapting to farm life. Armed with the camera, he began recording, using the natural light that enhanced the aesthetic appeal.

A small box caught his attention as he opened the front door to start his vlog. Intrigued, Bucky leaned down and discovered a tiny puppy inside.

The little creature opened its eyes, emitting a soft bark that immediately melted Bucky's heart. He couldn't resist picking up the puppy, cooing at its cuteness while wondering how it ended up in his house.

Picking the puppy gently, Bucky wondered aloud, "How did you end up in my house?" The unexpected gift had melted his heart, and he couldn't fathom who might have left such a cute puppy for him.

Y/N, having just arrived, witnessed the adorable scene. Still holding the puppy, Bucky showed it to her and inquired if she knew anyone in the neighborhood with a dog. Y/N after some contemplation, Y/N glanced at the box and seemingly deduced something.

"If the owner doesn't show up, I'll tell you who it is," Y/N declared.

Bucky, curious, nodded, recognizing that Y/N might have some insights into the matter. However, his attention was diverted when he realized his phone's camera was still rolling. Lifted in his hand, he casually mentioned, "Oh, I'm making a vlog."

Y/N's demeanor tensed visibly, catching Bucky's attention. She sighed, warning as she spoke, "If my face ever gets into the shot, delete it. If not, I'll destroy your phone." 

With that, she left Bucky, who quickly protected his phone. "Geez, what's her deal?" he wondered aloud. Meanwhile, the puppy continued to squirm in his arms, its innocence distracting from the day's farm work.

Bucky gently stroked the soft fur of the puppy, making comforting sounds as he held the small creature close. "Shhh, I will protect you," he whispered soothingly. The puppy, seemingly reassured by Bucky's gentle touch, nestled in his arms, its tiny frame a bundle of warmth and vulnerability.

As Bucky cradled the puppy, he couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected addition to his day. The mystery of the puppy's origin lingered in his thoughts, but for now, he was content to enjoy this newfound companionship. The bond between man and puppy began to form, a silent promise of care and protection exchanged in those quiet moments.

Bucky looked down at the puppy's innocent eyes and chuckled, "Well, looks like it's you and me against the farm adventures, huh?" The puppy responded with a playful wag of its tail, blissfully unaware of the challenges that awaited them.

With the camera still in hand, Bucky contemplated whether to include the puppy in his vlog. He didn't want to upset Y/N, considering her aversion to being on camera, but the irresistibly cute puppy might add a charming touch to his content.

Deciding to tread carefully, Bucky adjusted the camera angle to focus solely on the puppy, ensuring Y/N's face remained out of the shot. He continued to speak to his audience, introducing the unexpected farm companion and sharing the heartwarming story of how the puppy came into his life.

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , -

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[amournoir]

Hey girl! I love your oneshots and I thought about this oneshot (klaus m. x reader) where she's Hope's mother and a part of the family, also married to Nik. Hope is eleven and they all go watch the Barbie movie (2023) and mother and daughter force them to get into character, like wearing pink, singing the songs, and etc. Rebekah is a big fan too! Thanks for reading this, even if you don't take the request.

pairing(s): f!reader x klaus, f!reader x hope, klaus x hope

count: 1.3k

warning(s): absolute fluff

author’s note: thanks for this request! it was actually fun to write! ☺️

Barbie Fiasco

In the Mikaelson mansion, amidst the opulent decor and timeless elegance, a rare moment of familial unity unfolded. Hope, the precocious and imaginative 11-year-old daughter, had managed the seemingly impossible task of convincing both Y/N, her doting mother, and Klaus, her imposing yet doting father, to join her in watching the latest Barbie movie.

The grand room, usually reserved for solemn meetings or strategic discussions, now transformed into a cozy theater for the Mikaelson family. Hope nestled between her parents, excitement radiating from her as she clutched a bowl of popcorn, her eyes fixed on the colorful world of princesses and magical adventures.

As the movie played out its whimsical tale, laughter and joy filled the room. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at Hope’s infectious enthusiasm, occasionally stealing glances at Klaus, who, despite his stoic nature, couldn’t hide the softness in his eyes while watching their daughter’s delight.

As the movie ended, it left the Mikaelson trio enveloped in a cloud of contentment. It was a precious moment—bonding over something as simple yet enchanting as a Barbie movie. The shared experience forged a new memory, etched in the hearts of a family often consumed by the complexities of their supernatural existence. Hope’s fascination with the Barbie movie didn’t wane after the credits rolled. In fact, it ignited an unexpected whirlwind of enthusiasm within her. The moment the movie ended, she turned to her parents, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Mom, Dad, that was amazing! Can we please reenact the scenes?” Hope pleaded, her enthusiasm infectious.

Y/N exchanged a glance with Klaus, both equally amused and intrigued by their daughter’s request. “Well, darling, how about we watch the movie again tomorrow?” Y/N suggested.

But Hope was adamant. “No, Mom! We have to do it now while it’s still fresh!” she insisted, her eagerness bubbling over.

Klaus, the formidable patriarch of the Mikaelson family, took one look at his daughter’s animated face and couldn’t resist her fervor. “What do you have in mind, little one?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Hope’s eyes widened, a mischievous glint dancing in them. “We need costumes and you two have to get into character! Pink dresses, crowns, and singing the songs!”

Y/N stifled a laugh, watching her husband’s skeptical expression. Klaus, known for his stoic demeanor, was about to embark on an unexpected adventure into the whimsical world of Barbie. The absurdity of the idea didn’t escape Y/N, yet she found herself intrigued by the prospect of seeing Klaus in a completely different light. Hope’s pleading eyes and infectious excitement eventually won them over. With a shared glance and a shared smile, Y/N and Klaus agreed, promising to indulge Hope’s fantasy of a Barbie-inspired family playtime.

The next day, Hope’s excitement knew no bounds. She rummaged through her mother’s extensive wardrobe, pulling out every pink garment she could find. Y/N, amused by her daughter’s fervor, assisted in selecting the most vibrant and outlandish ensembles for the upcoming playtime. Klaus, however, approached the situation with cautious skepticism. He observed the flurry of activity, a mixture of bemusement and reluctance etched across his features. Hope bounced around the room, sorting through costumes, determined to transform her family into the characters from her newfound beloved movie.

“Alright, darling, we’re ready,” Y/N announced, donning a flowy pink dress, an ornate crown perched atop her head, looking every bit the part of a fairytale princess.

Klaus, on the other hand, stood there in his traditional attire, a raised eyebrow his only response to the extravagant display. “I hardly see the point of this,” he grumbled, though a hint of amusement danced in his eyes.

Hope’s face lit up with sheer joy, her enthusiasm contagious. “Dad, you have to get into character! Wear pink, smile wide, stand on your tippy toes— be a Barbie!”

With an exasperated sigh, her father relented, stepping out in the most absurdly pink outfit he could find within his and his wife’s wardrobe. He wore his wife’s pink leggings that were far too tight on him, they rode up halfway to his legs and a pink fluffy glitter coated skirt sat around his waist. He couldn’t find a shirt so he settled for a white one with pink lettering ‘be true to you’, a shirt Y/N and Hope had worn to a mommy and me brunch. To top it all off, a large makeshift pink crown with black dots —presumably the diamonds— sat on his head with a pair of pink and white striped fuzzy socks. The contrast between his stoic nature and the flamboyant attire was enough to send Y/N into fits of suppressed laughter.

Yet, to Y/N’s surprise, the feared original hybrid embraced the absurdity of the moment. He sang along with exaggerated dramatic flair, mimicking the characters from the movie to appease his daughter’s whims. Y/N watched, thoroughly entertained, as Klaus fully committed to the role, an unexpected and endearing sight. Their living room transformed into a scene straight out of a fantastical fairytale, the family was fully immersing themselves and channeling their inner Barbie, much to the amusement and delight of Hope.

Unbeknownst to the trio, their impromptu Barbie-inspired playtime hadn’t gone unnoticed within the household. Rebekah, intrigued by the sounds of laughter and frivolity emanating from the usually stoic corridors, decided to investigate. She stealthily made her way towards the source of the commotion, her curiosity piqued by the unusual sight that awaited her. As she peered into the room, her eyes widened in sheer delight at the spectacle unfolding before her.

Rebekah couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of her brother, adorned in the most ludicrous pink ensemble, wholeheartedly participating in Hope’s fantastical world. Y/N, equally engrossed in the play, radiated joy, her laughter filling the room. Her phone in hand, Rebekah captured the heartwarming scene, documenting the unexpected and endearing sight of her formidable brother embracing the fantasy. She couldn’t resist joining in, eager to partake in the familial revelry.

“Rebekah!” Klaus shouted, momentarily breaking character as he noticed his sister’s presence.

Rebekah simply grinned, snapping pictures and recording videos of the unusual but heartwarming family moment. Her laughter and participation added to the joyful atmosphere, turning the family playtime into an unforgettable event that would be remembered and teased about for days to come.

Days turned into weeks, and the delightful Barbie-themed family playtime had left a lasting impression on the Mikaelson household. While the memory lingered as a cherished moment for Y/N, Hope, and even Rebekah, it became a source of endless amusement for Kol.

He seized upon every opportunity to tease Klaus about his unexpected Barbie impersonation. He found endless delight in poking fun at his brother, exploiting every chance to jest about Klaus’s unexpected venture into the world of princesses and magical adventures.

Every encounter with Klaus was an opportunity for Kol to craft witty remarks and humorous anecdotes about Klaus’s ‘Barbie persona’. His sly comments echoed through the halls of the mansion, earning a chuckle from anyone within earshot.

“Ah, brother, who knew you had a penchant for pink?” Kol teased, a smirk playing on his lips as Klaus rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.

Despite Klaus’s attempts to dismiss Kol’s jests, the teasing persisted, the memory of Klaus’s reluctant yet endearing portrayal of a Barbie character becoming a running joke among the siblings. Though slightly irked by Kol’s incessant teasing, Klaus found a sense of amusement in the situation. The unexpected turn of events had brought about a lightheartedness within the family, a break from the usual brooding nature of their existence.

The Barbie movie fiasco, as it came to be fondly known, remained a cherished memory for the Mikaelson family, a moment of lightheartedness and laughter amidst their timeless legacy of darkness and drama. And despite Kol’s relentless teasing, Klaus secretly cherished the memory, finding solace in the familial bond that transcended even the most absurd and unexpected moments.

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[4littlefishies]

The Eighth of September - The Last Chocolate Cream Puff

satoru gojo x suguru geto

warnings: none :)

wc: 10k

previous chapter here!

Both Satoru and Suguru sleep like rocks throughout the night, waking up the next morning virtually unmoved from the position they fell asleep in. Suguru is the first to stir, the late September morning sunlight from outside dully making its way in through the cracks between curtains; not enough light to force them awake, but enough to light the room just enough to see. He yawns as he blinks his eyes open, not sure what time it is. Lifting his arm off of where it rests over Satoru’s waist, he rubs sleep from his eyes and looks up at the ceiling before turning his head to look at a still sleeping Satoru.

White tufts of hair stick up all over his head, slightly messy from sleep. He looks so peaceful like this; not causing any trouble, not making any noise, just lying there breathing almost inaudibly. His breath slowly comes and goes through his nose, his chest expanding contracting ever so slightly along with it. His right arm is underneath the pillow while his left arm wraps over the top of it, his fingers just barely touching his own arms as they come together around it, hugging it in his sleep. His face is pressed into the light grey silk pillowcase, his light pink lips pressed forward in a slight pout, putting a soft smile on Suguru’s face. Suguru yawns silently again as he props his head up on his elbow, looking down at his husband and just enjoying how tranquil he looks while he’s sleeping. His eyes wander towards the few faint purple teeth marks left on his neck from the night prior. He can’t help but lean himself forward and press a soft kiss to the one most accessible to him, doing his best not to wake Satoru as he does so. 

Rolling over, he decides to let Satoru sleep a bit longer while he gets up for the day. He picks up his phone to see a text from Shoko about an hour earlier.

‘We’re heading home, thanks again for ur guest room :)’

He thumbs up the message as he stands up from his side of the bed, brushing his hair back and out of his face with his hand as he heads towards the bathroom. 

It was nearly 11, but he decided that he would make breakfast for when Satoru eventually woke up, which shouldn’t be too long from now. After quickly brushing his teeth and hair, he clips it up and out of the way before pulling on a shirt and heading out to the kitchen to get started on making some okonomiyaki. He had been thinking about it since Wednesday and finally had the will to do it come Saturday morning. 

He starts by first making himself some coffee. When they had gotten back from Fukuoka, Satoru wanted to celebrate Suguru officially starting his new job, so he treated him to a brand new espresso machine. Since meeting Satoru, Suguru’s coffee routine had gone from slightly more elaborate than the average person’s to now almost seeming just outright pretentious and overly opulent. Satoru had done plenty of research, only wanting the best for Suguru, so of course he had everything that he needed to make an artisanal coffee, no matter what kind he wanted. He weighs out the perfect 18 grams of beans and funnels them into the grinder, looking over his shoulder to make sure that he closed the bedroom door before he turns it on, not wanting to wake his still sleeping husband. Next, he dumps the grinds into the portafilter before tamping them down. After putting a small espresso cup under the spout, he pulls the shot and heads over to the fridge to get his milk. It was a somewhat long process, but he enjoyed it as part of his morning routine. Some mornings, when he was feeling lazy, he would just use his trusty old chemex, but most days, he looked forward to making himself a fancy drink.

This morning, he decided on just a simple latte, working on steaming the milk while his shot finishes dripping into the glass beneath the spout. He picks out one of the many mugs from the cabinet and pours the shot in before pouring the milk on top, doing his best to make a swirly design with it as it fills up. He hums happily to himself, seeing what looks like a heart sitting in the design.

“Nice.” He says softly to himself, admiring his work before cleaning up after himself. He carefully picks up the mug and takes the first sip, being mindful as to not burn himself as he does so. He closes his eyes at the flavor, happy with his work. 

After savoring the first few sips, he sets his mug on the counter and starts prepping to make breakfast. He gets all the ingredients out of the fridge and spreads them out on the counter to make the okonomiyaki. It doesn’t take him long to mix everything together and get it cooking in a pan, skillfully flipping the first one once it’s golden brown on the bottom. After he finishes a few more and gets them set aside on a plate, he heads back into the bedroom to see if Satoru is awake yet.

As he predicted, Satoru was still fast asleep in the same position that he was in when Suguru woke up about a half an hour ago. He smiles, looking at the slow rise and fall of Satoru’s back as he sits down on the edge of the bed right next to him, resting his hand on his back and rubbing large slow circles. Leaning over, he whispers as to hopefully not startle him awake.

“Satoru.” He coos sweetly in his ear. “I made breakfast.” 

“Mmmm.” Satoru groans, his eyes still closed as he lays there unmoved. Suguru chuckles lightly and leans over to press a kiss to the back of his shoulder before standing back up off of the bed.

“It’s ready for you whenever you decide to get up.” He says softly before turning to head back out to the kitchen, wanting to try the ones he had already made. 

He grabs a plate from the cabinet and puts one of the circular shaped okonomiyaki on it. Grabbing kewpie mayo and Okonomi sauce, he finishes it off with the two and finally tops it with some shredded nori and a sprinkle of sesame seeds. He sits down at the island and takes the first bite before quickly regretting it, realizing how hot it still is as he tries not to burn his mouth by holding it open and inhaling with a, “Hah- ha- ha,” fanning his mouth and waiting for it to cool down slightly before he continues chewing.

“You’re supposed to let it cool off before you stick it in your mouth.” He hears Satoru say as he joins him in the kitchen after he emerges from the bedroom. 

“Shut up.” Suguru retorts after swallowing. 

“It smells super good, sweetcheeks. Thank you for making breakfast.” Satoru says, ignoring his response and coming over to meet him for a quick kiss before grabbing a plate of his own. “Did they already leave?” He asks, his head motioning in the direction of the guest bedroom.

Suguru chuckles at the nickname as he nods his head, cutting off another piece, but letting it cool down a little bit this time. “Yeah, they left before I even woke up.” He blows on it for a moment before popping it into his mouth, not scalding the inside of his mouth this time. 

“You didn’t make me any coffee?” Satoru teases lightly, grabbing an okonomiyaki for himself and topping it off with the same sauce and sesame seeds just as Suguru did to his.

“Do you want me to?” Suguru asks, looking up from his plate at Satoru who stands across the island from him.

“Nah, I’m just messing with ya.” Satoru rounds the counter and sets his plate down, sitting on the barstool next to Suguru. They both have their breakfast, unsurprisingly not leaving any leftovers behind. “So…” Satoru starts, sounding like he’s about to ask for something.

“So?” Suguru asks, waiting for him to finish what he’s inevitably going to say. 

“Do you wanna go see the house today?” Satoru asks, picking up his plate, as well as Suguru’s and taking them over to the sink to lightly rinse them before sticking them neatly into the dishwasher. Suguru smiles down at the countertop before looking up at Satoru where he stands, leaning on his elbows on the other side of the island.

“Baby, we can’t just show up and expect to be let in.” Suguru says, still sipping on his coffee, although the mug is just about empty.

“I know,” Satoru responds, walking back around to stand next to Suguru, leaning on his elbows once again with his chin in his palm. “That’s why I got us an appointment.” He says with a sly smile on his face.

Suguru’s jaw drops open slightly, surprised to hear what he just said. “You did?” He furrows his eyebrows, baffled by his response.

“I did.” Satoru responds, his smile just as cunning as his attitude. “We need to get ready because it’s at 2 and I don’t want us to be late.” Suguru is left slightly dumbfounded at this information, his mind racing, trying to decide when Satoru could have done this.

“For today? When did you even-”

Satoru nods his head, cutting off Suguru’s question before he can finish. “Yesterday, while you were busy working and I was lying on your couch; It’s surprisingly very easy to just go tour a house.” He says, standing next to where Suguru sits against the island and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“And you-”

“No more questions! We’re going to see it and we’re going to love it and we’re going to buy it, okay?” Satoru cuts him off once again, trying to direct him towards the bedroom so that they could get ready and get on their way. 

After they both take showers, washing off the groggy feeling lingering from the night before, they each decide what to wear, wanting to dress somewhat nice for the occasion. Suguru picks out a pair of light grey pants and a soft blue button up with a white tshirt underneath, opting to leave the button up open and roll up the sleeves. Satoru goes with black pants and a white tshirt as well, but adds a dark green quarter zip on top, wanting to stay warm out in the cool fall weather. 

“You look cute.” Satoru says as Suguru comes out of the closet, pulling the button up on and pushing up the sleeves.

“So do you.” He says, smiling at Satoru’s compliment. “Ready?” He asks, seeing that Satoru’s ready and is just sitting at the foot of the bed petting Shiro. He stands up with a nod of his head and the two of them head towards the front door, pulling on their shoes before heading out and down towards the elevator. 

“It looks like it’ll take us about an hour to get there.” Satoru says, looking at the map he already has pulled up on his phone. “But that means we’ll be early, so that’s good.”

“I still can’t believe it was that easy for you to get us a tour.” Suguru says, shaking his head as the doors open to an empty elevator. He presses the button to get down to the garage as the doors slowly slide shut. 

“I just filled out the form, it really wasn’t difficult at all, actually.” Satoru says, resting his elbow on Suguru’s shoulder. The elevator descends a few floors before stopping and letting a few more people on. They stand silently in the elevator until it opens once again down in the parking garage letting everyone out. After they get to Suguru’s car, Satoru immediately plugs his phone in, putting the directions up on the screen before picking out a song to start their hour-long trip.

“You didn’t have to talk to anyone?” Suguru asks, picking up the conversation where they left off in the elevator.

“Nope. Just got the confirmation email and then someone named Tanaka reached out saying we could come today at 2.” Satoru explains, looking back through his email. 

“Did they say anything else?” Suguru asks as they pull out of the parking garage and onto the street, heading in the direction the gps is telling him to go.

“Nope, except for that we should park in the garage when we get there, it’ll be open for us… They’re probably pretty busy, you know?” 

“Hmm.” Suguru hums, nodding his head in agreement. Once they get onto the highway, Satoru grabs one of Suguru’s hands from the wheel, fidgeting with his fingers for a moment before resting it down on his leg. Suguru chuckles lightly. “If you want me to rest my hand there you can just tell me, baby.” Suguru says with a smile, looking over to his husband for a second before focusing back on the road in front of him. 

“I know, but I can also just play with your fingers and do it myself.” He responds, continuing to gaze down at the way Suguru’s fingers look spread out over his thigh. Seeing the obsidian black ring around his ring finger puts a smile on Satoru’s face. “I really hope we like the house as much as I think we’re going to.” He says, looking over to watch Suguru’s face as he focuses on driving. Suguru gives his thigh a squeeze with a smile spreading on his lips.

“I bet it’ll be even better in person, don’t you think?” Suguru asks, thinking back to the pictures that he’d looked at with Satoru. It looked absolutely perfect; he could already see them living there just through the pictures on the small screen. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Satoru says, resting his own hand down on top of Suguru’s and letting out a sigh as they continue down the highway. 

As they expected, they’re about 15 minutes early, so instead of just waiting, they decide to drive around the surrounding area to see what the neighborhood looks like. The houses all look beautiful, many of them having gates at the front, hiding most of the house just from the road. The higher up into the hills they go and closer they get to the house, the more excited and restless Satoru starts to feel. 

“Are you excited?” Satoru asks, unable to sit still in his seat after the hour-long drive. 

“Of course I am.” Suguru responds, giving Satoru’s leg a pat.

“Aren’t you gonna ask if I’m excited?

“I don’t think I need to ask. You’re practically ready to jump out of the car.” Suguru responds with a slight chuckle. Satoru smiles at him as they finally pull up to the house and into the open garage just past the short driveway. It doesn’t look like much from the street, a large stone façade and a couple trees amongst vertical light colored wood louvers hiding most of the front of the house. He’s practically giddy with excitement as the car shuts off and they step out. Suguru walks around the front of the car to join Satoru, grabbing onto his hand as they walk through the open door to an outdoor set of stairs. After heading up the stairs they’re met with what can only be the black set of front doors. 

“Do we knock, you think?” Satoru asks, looking over at Suguru who’s already reaching forward to ring the doorbell. He presses it and looks back at Satoru with a smile, excited for what’s to come. “Good call.” Satoru says as he nods his head with a smile still on his face as they hear footsteps approaching from the other side of the door and the doorknob turning. He gives Suguru’s hand a squeeze as the door is pulled inward and a woman in a cream colored sweater and olive colored pants is standing there with a smile. 

“Hello! Welcome, welcome!” She says with a smile, sticking out her hand to shake each of theirs. “You must be Geto-sama. I’m Yumi Tanaka, it’s a pleasure to meet you both.” 

“Very nice to meet you, Tanaka-san.” Suguru says as he shakes her hand with a smile. “I’m Suguru, this is Satoru.”

“Nice to meet you.” Satoru says with a similar smile as he shakes her hand. 

“I’m glad you made it here alright.” She says, stepping aside and allowing the two of them to step past her inside. As they take off their shoes, both Satoru and Suguru are already looking around the entryway in awe, finally seeing the house that they’ve just been looking at through pictures. Seen through the entry hallway is a large floor to ceiling window that lets the light from the back garden inside. “I can give you two a quick tour, and then you’re welcome to look around on your own if you’d like. I don’t have any other tours today, so you can take your time looking around.” She explains, looking between the two of them with a polite smile. The two men give her a nod in response, smiling at each other when she turns around to lead the way. Satoru grabs Suguru’s hand as they follow her into the house.

She starts by heading to the left, showing them the office, as well as one of the bedrooms, one of the bathrooms, and then a room with tatami mat flooring and the walls completely opened up to the outside. Going back towards the other end of the house, she shows off the main bedroom, laundry room, and the living room that’s on the ground floor. Once they head up the stairs, they see the kitchen which is attached to the dining room and the main living room. The walls are all sliding glass doors that tuck away into the walls, perfect for letting a breeze flow through the house during the warmer months. Along with the kitchen and living room on the second floor is another bedroom and an outdoor terrace. Finally, they head up to the roof where there’s a shallow pool as well as a deck. The view all around is stunning, Mt. Fuji in the distance and downtown Tokyo far off in the opposite direction. 

“This view is beautiful.” Satoru says with a smile.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Yumi says, looking back with a smile. “I love when I get to bring clients up here.” 

“I would definitely be up here all the time.” Satoru agrees with her, looking back at her with a smile. He can already picture the nights he would spend with Suguru up on the roof, lying on their backs looking up at the stars.

After a couple more moments of taking in the view, they head back down to the bottom of the stairs. “If you two want, you can take some time on your own to look around. I’ll be down in the office right by the front door if you need anything.” She says with a polite nod of her head before she takes off down the stairs, leaving Satoru and Suguru to look around on their own. 

“Suguru, this house is perfect.” Satoru says in a hushed voice as soon as Yumi disappears from his view down the stairs. 

Suguru can’t help but smile as he turns around to look Satoru in the eyes. “It’s really nice, isn’t it?” He asks, rubbing his hand over Satoru’s lower back as they stand in the walkway between the kitchen and the living room. The feeling sends tingles over his skin, putting a soft smile on his face. The wall of windows lets lots of natural light into the living room and the connected dining room. Satoru goes to stand up against the island, looking around the kitchen. 

“I think your espresso machine would look perfect right there.” Satoru says, pointing to one corner of the counter. Suguru walks up next to him, leaning his elbows on the counter next to him with a smile.

“You moving in already?” He teases lightly.

“And we could put Shiro’s cat tree in the corner over there by the window, she’d love it.” Satoru continues, going on about where they would put all of their furniture. “Don’t you think so?”

“I do, baby.” Suguru says, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the side of his head. “You really love it, huh?” He asks as Satoru continues rambling on about what they could put on the shelves in the living room.

“Of course I do! Don’t you?” Satoru asks with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. 

“I do too. It’s just exciting to watch you be so excited about it.” He says with a smile. “Do you wanna go look at the rest again?” Suguru suggests, standing up from where he rests against the kitchen island. Satoru nods his head as they head back downstairs and into the main bedroom. 

“Satoru, don’t mess with things.” Suguru says as Satoru leaves his side and goes over to mess with the wall of windows. He accidentally figures out that there are actually shoji tucked away into the walls as well, defeating the need for any curtains.

“Woah!” He says, pulling them out of the wall and in front of the windows. “Do you think these are upstairs too?”

“I bet they are.” Suguru says, walking over and looking at them as well before carefully pushing them back into the pocket that they came from. 

“This bath is gorgeous.” Suguru says as he steps out of the bathroom, seeing that Satoru had opened the sliding doors and was checking out the back garden. The large walls of glass were similar to the ones at the apartment, although instead of a busy city 36 floors below, they had a beautiful garden just on the other side. The landscaping looked like something akin to a home and garden magazine. The karesansui consisted of perfectly laid white gravel with a few Japanese Black Pine trees on the border and one in the middle. The larger stones throughout the garden made for magnificent centerpieces, the greenery around them really helping to tie it all together. 

“You could sit out here and have your coffee in the morning.” Satoru says, turning around as he feels Suguru join him outside.

“I think it would be too hard for me to leave and go to work if I were to do that.” He says, resting his hand on Satoru’s back as he stands next to him, the both of them admiring the serene feeling of the garden with the cool autumn breeze passing through. Suguru presses a kiss to the side of Satoru’s head before they head back in, making sure to close the sliding door behind them.

After they finish checking out the main bedroom once again, they head back out into the hallway and walk down towards the other bedroom on the ground floor. “It’s nice that the bedrooms aren’t too close together.” Suguru points out as they step inside. 

“Yeah, nice for when we have kids, huh?” Satoru asks with a smirk, turning around to look at Suguru with a smile. 

The smile on Suguru’s face grows when he hears Satoru’s words. “You think so?” He asks, earning an enthusiastic nod in response from Satoru. “Me too.” He says, stepping closer to Satoru and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

Finally, they head back into the more formal living room on the ground floor once more. “Oh, sick!” Satoru says, walking over to a piano that sits in the far corner of the room. “I saw this earlier and wanted to check it out.” He sits down on the bench and opens up the cover. “I’ve always wanted a piano like this in my house.” Suguru steps further in and stands on the other side of the piano, watching as Satoru opens up the book that sits on the music stand and sets it back down before letting his fingers feel over the keys. “It’s been a while, so don’t boo me if it’s not great, I doubt my sight reading is what it used to be.”

Suguru tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows, slightly confused at first, not entirely knowing what the sentence that just came out of his mouth means, but when Satoru starts to play the piece that’s on the page he picked out, he understands. He walks around the side of the piano, watching the way his long fingers dance over the keys, hitting every note on the page - as far as Suguru can tell - perfectly. As he continues playing, Satoru scoots a bit to the side on the bench, making room for Suguru to sit down next to him. 

“I know you said you played piano as a kid, but I didn’t know you meant like this.” Suguru says with a soft chuckle, surprised at what a prodigy it seemed his husband was. 

Satoru turns his head to speak to Suguru, but doesn’t take his eyes off the sheet music, continuing to play as he speaks. “I practiced just about every day for probably 13 years.” He says, not missing a single note from the page. “I’m surprised I can still do this, honestly. I haven’t touched a piano in about five years.” He admits before finishing up the short piece that he’s playing. 

“If we get this house, we’re keeping the piano.” Suguru says as Satoru closes the cover back over the keys once again.

“You want me to play for you every day, huh Sugu?” Satoru asks in a sweet voice, only slightly teasing him as they both stand up from the bench.

“If you want to, I’ll listen to you play all day long, baby.” He says with a smile as they head back out into the entry hallway where Yumi is already standing.

“I see you found the piano.” She says with a smile.

“Oh, yeah sorry.” Satoru apologizes with a cheeky smile on his face. “I probably should’ve asked first.” 

“It’s no problem!” She reassures him. “Most visitors just tap a couple keys, if anything, so it was nice to hear it actually played for once.” She says with a smile still sitting on her face as she nods. 

“Is keeping the piano an option if we buy the house?” Satoru asks, mentally crossing his fingers as he awaits her answer.

“It’s just there for staging right now, so that’s absolutely an option.” She says as she nods her head with a smile. 

“That’s great to hear, Yumi.” Satoru says with an excited smile. Suguru elbows him lightly in the side before he speaks up.

“Thank you very much Tananka-san, I’m sure we’ll be in touch if not later today, then definitely some time this week.” Suguru says, turning to look at his husband with raised eyebrows, silently scolding him with his look.

“I look forward to hearing from you Geto-sama.” she says with a polite smile as they all head back towards the front door. 

After putting their shoes on and taking one final glance around, the two of them head back out the front door and down the stairs to the garage where Suguru’s car sits. “Satoru, I really shouldn’t have to tell you when to use polite speech, you’re almost 30.”

“It’s fine Suguru.” Satoru brushes off his warning as they open the car doors and sit back inside. He hears as Suguru lets out a defeated sigh at his response. “So what did you think?” He asks, not wasting any time as he plugs his phone in and gets the directions up to head back home. Suguru is silent for a moment as he backs out of the garage. “Sugu?” Satoru asks, looking over at him as he’s waiting not-so-patiently for an answer. 

“I really like it, Toru.” He says, his voice sounding like warm honey in Satoru’s ears as it’s coming out of his mouth.

Satoru’s heart flutters in his chest, a smile growing on his face. He wants nothing more than for this to be the house that they live in and grow their family in. “Do you think I should tell her we wanna make an offer?” 

“Don’t you think we should talk to an agent first?” Suguru asks, as he carefully drives back through the neighborhood, taking in everything as they head back down the hill. 

“Why? Do you think we need to? I mean, I could pay for a lot of it right now if we wanted to.” Satoru says, looking over at Suguru as he focuses on the road. 

“Satoru…” Suguru sighs out Satoru’s name, shaking his head slightly. He takes a breath before he continues. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to pay for everything. I want to pay for it too. It’s our home, not just yours.”

“But I want to.”

“Satoru.” Suguru says again, taking his hand off the wheel and resting it on Satoru’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. “I’m paying for at least half.”

“But-”

“No buts.” Suguru says firmly, looking over to Satoru for a second before looking back at the road. “I’m not letting you pay for more than half.” He says, shaking his head as he speaks. 

“What if you just pay the deposit?” Satoru suggests.

“On top of my half?” He teases, knowing that Satoru is going to try to do anything to get him to cave. Satoru lets out a huff when he won’t budge. “Baby, we’ve talked about this already. I’m not letting you pay for the whole thing just because you can.” He says, using Satoru’s own words against him. Satoru pouts in the passenger seat as Suguru continues down the street, trying not to smile when he feels Suguru’s hand squeeze his thigh once again. “You can get us some new furniture, yeah?” He suggests, trying to get Satoru to stop his childish pouting. 

“You want a new couch?” Satoru suggests, immediately perking up like a puppy at the thought of it. “I think we’d need a bigger one to fit that living room anyway.”

“You can get us whatever your heart desires, my love.” Suguru says, his voice sweet as he picks up Satoru’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

Satoru smiles at the feeling of his warm lips against the back of his hand. “I love you.” He says, bringing Suguru’s hand up to his lips to return the favor.

“I love you too.” Suguru says, a soft smile on his face as he focuses on the road. “Do you maybe wanna go pay the kids a visit?” He suggests, already knowing the answer. 

“Sugu, is that even a question?” He asks, changing the directions in his gps to take them to the cafe so that they can hopefully see Yuji and the others. They hadn’t been back there together in about a month and a half. He had gone a couple times by himself, but every time he was there, one of them asked him where Suguru was, so he knew they’d all be excited. 

“Do you think they’re gonna be excited to see us?” Suguru asks, smiling at the thought. One of the things he missed most while being in Fukuoka was going every day to see the bubbly pink-haired boy and his more reserved dark-haired counterpart. Of course Satoru missed the tasty sweets that Tsumiki would bake, but most of all, they both missed walking from the office to the cafe every day to see the group of kids that were always happy to see them. 

“Of course they are! Yuji’s probably gonna explode from the excitement.” Satoru says with a smile on his face. He can picture it in his mind; confetti falling from the ceiling, sweets everywhere, he might even cry from the surprise of seeing them.

“We’re gonna have to go visit them when we move.” Suguru says, focusing back on the road ahead of him. They went from going to the cafe just about every day for lunch to going only a few times a month on the weekends. Satoru would go occasionally during the week, but much less frequently than he would when he was working at the office just a couple blocks away. Tsumiki was always coming up with new things to bake, so Satoru always had the excuse that he had to go to try out whatever she came up with. 

“Definitely.” Satoru agrees, relaxing back into his seat and watching out the window with his chin in his palm as Suguru drives. Most of the drive is uneventful, other than a few comments here and there from Satoru about Suguru’s driving.

“Sweetheart, I could really do without your backseat driving.” Suguru says, his voice sweet as he does his best not to snap at the white-haired menace in his passenger seat. 

Satoru has a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing that he’s about to make a stupid joke that will either make his husband laugh or will break him. “Actually, I’m in the front seat.” He says in a very matter-of-factly sounding voice. 

Suguru presses his lips together into a straight line and lets out a long breath that he didn’t realize he was holding in. “Look at my face. Does it look like I’m laughing?” He says with a blank stare ahead as he grips the wheel tighter. “One of us has their license and it’s not the one in the passenger seat, is it?” He shoots back, knowing that’ll most likely shut him up.

“Hey.” Satoru says, furrowing his eyebrows and crossing his arms across his chest as he mopes in his seat. “That’s by choice.”

“So you should choose to keep your comments about my driving to yourself, yeah?” Suguru says, making his facial expressions at the road ahead of him, knowing that Satoru sees them anyway.

“You love me.” Satoru finally says, leaning over and resting his head on Suguru’s shoulder.

“I never said that I didn’t.” Suguru says, a slight smile creeping onto his face as they quickly approach their destination. After finding a place to park, they start walking the short distance to the cafe, the autumn sun starting to duck behind the surrounding towering buildings. Satoru grabs onto Suguru’s hand, swinging it as they walk, trying to move more to warm himself up a little in the absence of the late afternoon sun.

Once the front door of the cafe comes into view, Satoru falls easily back into his old habits and lets go of Suguru’s hand, rushing up ahead of him to open the door for him. “Hey, I thought we were done with this!” Suguru shouts after him, hurrying to keep up with him.

“I will never stop running to open up doors for you, Suguboo.” Satoru says sweetly, pulling the door open to allow him in first. 

“Thank you.” Suguru says with a smile, his voice soft and his cheeks slightly pink as he walks through the doorway, the bell making a noise as they both step into the cafe. It’s mostly empty sprinkled with a couple people working on their laptops and enjoying a late afternoon pastry here and there. 

They head up to the counter and Satoru starts as he always does by looking at what’s in the display case. It’s much closer to closing time than when they’re normally there, so his options are more limited than usual. There isn’t anyone behind the counter, but upon hearing the door ring, Tsumiki comes out from the back with a gentle smile on her face. Once she sees that it’s Suguru and Satoru standing at the counter, she lets out a small gasp, not having seen them in months. 

“Hi Gojo-sama, Geto-sama!” She says with a bright smile on her face. She was normally back in the kitchen baking or busy prepping for the next day, so it was a real surprise for her to be the first one to see the two of them. “How are you?”

“Really good!” Satoru says as he’s bent over looking at the lit up display case. “I see you still have some cream puffs!” His mouth is practically watering as he looks down at them. He sees that the chocolate ones are gone and feels a slight disappointment.

“Satoru…” Suguru says, sounding slightly disappointed in his husband and his ability to completely derail the conversation to whatever it is that he desires.

Tsumiki is a sweetheart and of course goes along with it happily. “Yep! Lots of strawberry and matcha ones left today.” She says, looking through the case from the back side.

“No chocolate though?” Satoru asks, although he can clearly see that the tray is empty.

“Actually…” She starts, which makes Satoru perk up, his eyebrows raising in anticipation. “I think I might have one in the back, let me go check.” She says before turning around to go check.

As she disappears into the back, it’s no more than five seconds later that Yuji comes barreling out at a speed that is surely unsafe for where he works. “Gojo!” He yells at a volume that should only be reserved for outdoors. 

“Itadori!” Nobara shouts from the other side of the doorway. “Stop shouting, we still have customers!” Her volume rivals that of Yuji’s as she glares at him through the window. The few customers in the cafe take the yelling as their sign to start getting ready to leave, knowing that the cafe is closing soon anyway.

“But Gojo and Geto are here!” He shouts back at her, his eyes wide with excitement as Suguru and Satoru chuckle lightly at his reaction. “Hey guys!” He says with a wide smile on his face. 

“Hey Yuji!” Satoru responds with a similar smile on his face. Suguru stands next to him with a grin, watching as the two of them interact. 

“I feel like I haven't seen you both here in foreverrr.” He says, drawing out the word as he says it. As he speaks, Tsumiki emerges once again from the kitchen, holding a small box.

“We had one more!” She says, holding up the box which presumably has a chocolate cream puff inside.

“Weren’t you taking this home?” Yuji asks, looking down at the box with the clear panel on top as she sets it on the counter in front of him.

“I can take home a different one, it’s okay, Gojo can have it.” She says with a sweet smile.

Satoru clutches his chest as he hears her words. “Really? You can take it Tsumiki, I’m okay with a strawberry one.” He says, not wanting to take the last chocolate cream puff if she was saving it for herself. 

“No, no, no. You take it, really.” She insists, shaking her head as Satoru tries to tell her that she can have it. “Consider it a wedding gift.” She says with a sweet smile on her face as she backs into the kitchen once more.

“You’re the best, Tsumiki!” Satoru calls out after her. “I’ll cherish it even more than I normally would!” He says, despite her already being in the kitchen and probably unable to hear what he’s saying.

“Oh yeah!” Yuji lets out. “You guys got married, huh?” 

Suguru nods his head with a smile. “Yep, we’re actually both Geto now.” Suguru says, looking between Satoru and Yuji.

“Wait, really?” Yuji questions. “That’s gonna be hard to get used to.” He says with a nervous smile as he fidgets with the string on his apron. 

“Mhm!’ Satoru says enthusiastically.

“And you’ve even got rings and everything!” He says, finally noticing the rings on both Satoru and Suguru’s fingers. They both smile as they hold out their hands to let him see. “Wowww.” He draws out, admiring their simple rings. “That’s so cool you guys!”

“I think so too.” Satoru says with a smile. 

“Well… Can I get anything else for you?” Yuji asks, realizing that they’re probably there to get food and not just to talk to him. Satoru picks out a couple more sweets from the case and Suguru orders just a tea for himself. “Alright, you’re all set!” He says with a smile as he hands the box of pastries over to Satoru and Suguru his tea.

“But we haven’t paid yet?” Suguru says, his voice slightly confused as he looks down at Yuji with his wallet already in his hand, ready to pay.

“Don’t worry about it!” Yuji responds with a bubbly smile. “It’s on the house.”

“What? No, no, let me at least pay for Satoru’s sweets, it’s so much.” Suguru says, trying to convince him to let him pay for the box full of them.

“No need! Really. Like Tsumiki said, consider it a wedding gift.” Yuji says with a smile. 

Suguru lets out a sigh, realizing that he probably isn't going to win this battle against this very stubborn teenager. “At least let me get a couple more things and let me pay for them.” He tries taking a new approach at it.

“You guys can take everything in this case if you want, but I’m not letting you pay for any of it.” Yuji stands his ground. Upon hearing his words, Satoru’s eyes widen at the possibility.

Before Satoru can even say anything, Suguru turns to him with a finger raised. “Hey. No.”

“I wasn’t even gonna say anything!” He says although they both know that that’s far from the truth. He furrows his eyebrows, looking back down at the case. “Can we just get a few more of the swiss roll slices?” Satoru sticks out his lower lip as he asks, giving Suguru the best puppy dog eyes that he possibly can.

“Of course you-”

“Satoru, we don’t-” Suguru and Yuji start to answer him at the same time, both with a different answer. Yuji backs off slightly when Suguru looks at him with a raised eyebrow, silently telling him to zip it. “Satoru, we don’t need any more sweets, don’t you think we got enough already?” 

“If it makes you guys feel any better, we already took everything we want, so the rest of it is probably going to get tossed…” Yuji says softly, motioning back towards everyone in the back kitchen before he steps back away from the counter, not wanting to feel Suguru’s scarily calm yet intimidating death stare anymore.

“See Sugu! They’re going to go to a good home if we take them!” Satoru tries to argue back, gesturing at the display case.

Suguru looks at him, his eyebrow cocked and his lips in a slight frown. “Satoru, it’s food. You’re acting like it’s a lost puppy we’re talking about.” 

“Exactly! Just food! So what’s the issue if we get a few more things?” Satoru does his best to persuade Suguru to let him take some more treats.

“I can’t believe you’re a real adult.” Suguru says, shaking his head with a smirk he’s unable to keep from his lips. Although he tried his best to keep Satoru’s sugar consumption to a minimum, that just always seemed to make him push back even harder. With that, Satoru points out a few more things, which Yuji happily boxes up and puts into a bag before handing it over to Suguru. 

“Why are you guys here so late anyway?” Yuji asks as Suguru takes the bag from him and lets it hang off his wrist. “You’re usually about five hours earlier.”

“We were actually just coming back from looking at a house we’re hopefully gonna buy.” Satoru says with a smile, excited to talk about it even more.

“A house? Wow, that’s crazy! Did you guys like it? Where are you moving to? When are you moving?” He rapidly fires his questions as he leans up against the back counter with his arms crossed, the teenager now suddenly curious to know everything about their home-buying process.

“We really liked it.” Suguru affirms with a smile and nod of his head. “We’re really hoping that we’re able to get it.” Satoru grabs and squeezes his hand as he says it, thinking the exact same thing.

“Well, I also hope you guys get it if you really like it that much.” 

“Itadori!” A stern voice is heard shouting back from the kitchen just before Megumi is seen standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed with an annoyed look on his face. “We’ve been closed for five minutes and you haven’t helped out with anything. If you want to go out with us, you better start helping us clean up.”

“Hi Megumi!” Satoru shouts out, sounding overly happy because he knows how he’ll react no matter his tone. Suguru opts for giving him a silent wave and a polite smile. 

“Hi Geto-sama.” Megumi says, thinking he’s only acknowledging Suguru, but instead he’s opened a whole new can of worms for himself.

“Actually, we’re both Geto now, so hi Megumi!” Satoru says extra enthusiastically, waving as he ducks back into the kitchen after quickly realizing the grave error he’s made. 

“Hurry up, Itadori.” Megumi shouts from the door before heading back to focus on his closing duties.

Yuji smiles up at the two of them sheepishly, knowing that if he doesn’t get working he’s gonna get another earful. “Well, I guess I gotta go. It was really nice seeing you guys!” Yuji says with a small wave as Satoru and Suguru slowly start heading back towards the front door.

“We’ll be back soon!” Satoru says with a final wave as they make it to the door. “That was so nice of him, wasn’t it Suguru?” He asks, taking hold of Suguru’s hand that isn’t holding the bag of sweets.

“What the hell do you think we’re gonna do with three boxes of this stuff?” Suguru asks, his question lighthearted while looking down at the bag that hangs from his wrist. 

“What do you mean? We’re gonna eat it.” Satoru says as if it was the most obvious thing he’s ever said. 

“Baby, how do you plan on eating all of this before it gets stale?” Suguru asks, already knowing that Satoru is well capable of doing it. “Actually, forget I asked.” He says, squeezing Satoru’s hand as they walk down the sidewalk back towards where the car is parked. “Do you want to grab something to eat before we head home?” He asks, thinking about all of the various options for food around the area. 

“I’m so glad you asked, actually.” Satoru says, already having an idea in his head. He starts walking a little quicker, pulling on Suguru’s hand to get him to keep up. Without even letting Suguru ask where he’s taking them, he starts explaining. “I saw a food cart around here selling buttered potatoes when I was on my run over here the other day, keep up!” Satoru says, his excitement apparent in his voice as he drags his husband along.

“Slow down!” Suguru speaks up after him, trying to tug back on his hand, but that just makes Satoru pull harder, his heart already set on getting himself a potato.

“No can do, Sugu.” Satoru says, turning back to look over his shoulder with a smile on his face. “It’s just right around the corner here.” They round the corner only to see that there’s a short line that they’ll have to wait in.

“You didn’t have to drag me. We’re gonna have to wait in line anyway.” Suguru huffs out as they stand behind the last person. 

“You know how much I love these things, Suguboo.” He crosses his arms as he says it, leaning his head on Suguru’s shoulder for a short moment before he picks it up again. “I’m the number two fan of buttered potatoes in the entire country behind-”

“Matsuyama Chiharu,” Suguru nods his head and finishes the sentence for him. “I’m well aware.” He says with a slight chuckle as he jokingly rolls his eyes. It was Satoru’s go-to whenever he needed to convey just how much he loved a good buttered potato. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’d get rid of all of these sweets for one potato if you had to choose.” Suguru highly contemplates actually making him decide between the two, but ultimately determines that’s a battle that he doesn’t want to even try to fight. 

“Good thing I’ll never have to make that decision.” Satoru turns to look at Suguru with a grin as he says it. Thankfully, the line moves relatively quickly and they’re able to quickly get their food and head back to where the car is parked once again. 

“You really should wait to eat that until we get home, baby.” Suguru says, watching as Satoru eats his food as they walk, nearly reaching the car already. “It’ll be less than ten minutes.” He assures him, unlocking the car as it finally comes into view.

“Can’t wait that long.” Satoru says, his mouth already full as he speaks. Suguru looks at him, a displeased look on his face. 

“You better not make a mess in my car.” Suguru warns, realizing that there’s no reasoning with him any further. He opens the door for Satoru and turns around to see him waiting with a smile on his face.

“Don’t worry, I’m already done.” Satoru says, crumpling up the small bit of foil that they came in and shoving it into his pocket. “Thank you, Gugu.” He says with a beaming smile. Suguru just looks at him in amazement as he sits down into his seat and holds out his hands, ready to take the bag from Suguru. He takes it and sets it on the floor between his feet while Suguru closes the door and walks around to his side.

“You really are just a human vacuum.” He says, shaking his head in slight disbelief as he falls into the driver’s seat. 

“You knew that.”

“Yeah, I did.” He starts the car with a smile on his face before leaning over to give Satoru a quick kiss before they start on their way home. The drive is quick, Satoru happily singing obnoxiously along to the music he plays through the speakers and Suguru laughing quietly to himself. “I love you… So much” Suguru says, looking over at the white-haired menace in his passenger seat as they’re stopped at a red light. 

Satoru grabs Suguru’s hand from where it rests and picks it up, bringing the back of it to his lips so that he can press a soft kiss to the skin. “I love you too, Gugu.” Satoru says, the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile as he looks over at his husband in the driver’s seat. 

Before they know it, they make it back to their building and back up to the apartment with all of their treats from the cafe and Suguru’s potato that he hadn’t eaten yet.  Suguru sets the bag on the kitchen island before heading to sit down at the table to eat his potato. Satoru pulls the boxes out of the bag and puts what needs to go into the fridge away, making sure to grab out a cream puff for himself before he heads over to join Suguru at the table while they both eat. 

“You think we’re gonna get the house?” Satoru asks, watching as Suguru takes a bite, a smile on his face at the pleasant taste. Shiro walks back and forth through their legs under the table, rubbing her face along them as she walks. Satoru looks underneath at her, reaching down to give her a quick pet as she walks by, meowing once she feels his hand along her back.

Suguru nods his head with a smile as he chews, waiting until his mouth isn’t full before he actually answers. “I think so.” He says, sounding sure of it. “I’m surprised no one else has snatched it up yet.” 

“Me neither… Which means we gotta, right?” Satoru says before he takes another bite of his cream puff, looking across the table at Suguru. It had everything they’d wanted in a house. There was plenty of room, a beautiful view of the mountain, it was far enough away, but close enough to everything they’d need. It was perfect in every way. 

Taking the last bite of his potato, Suguru crumples up the foil and looks across the table at Satoru with a gentle smile. “You really want it?” He asks, but it’s not much of a question at all. He already knows the answer, and he knows that they both feel the same way. Satoru nods his head enthusiastically, a big smile on his face as he stuffs the rest of the cream puff into his mouth. “I think we should go for it.”

“I'll email Yumi back right now.” Satoru says, pulling out his phone with excitement. Both of their hearts beat hard in their chests, the thought of this being their home racing through their minds. Satoru strats drafting out an email as Suguru stands up from the table, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of Satoru’s head before heading into the bedroom to get changed out of his clothes from being out for the day. 

He heads into the closet and drops his dirty clothes into the hamper before picking out some shorts and a hoodie, pulling it on before heading into the bathroom. He lets his hair down and is brushing it out when Satoru joins him, already changed out of his clothes as he’s coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around his waist. He rests his chin on his shoulder and lets his eyes slowly close as he takes a slow inhale, his nose pressing against the skin on Suguru’s neck and the corners of his lips upturned into a smile. “Can I do it?” Satoru asks, grabbing the brush from Suguru’s hand and pressing a quick kiss to the side of his neck.

Suguru nods his head with a gentle smile, turning around to come face to face with Satoru. Their lips come together, both of their hands still on the brush until Suguru finally lets go, letting Satoru have it. They smile against each other’s lips as Satoru lets his hand with the brush fall down to his side. Heading back out to the bedroom, Suguru sits down in the armchair next to the window and Satoru readjusts the other chair to be right behind him. 

With his long glossy onyx hair falling over the back of the chair, Satoru runs his fingers through it, making sure that it’s all behind the chair before he starts brushing gently from the bottom. Suguru lets his eyes fall closed as he leans his head back and lets Satoru brush slowly through his hair. The feeling of Satoru brushing his hair was something he’d come to appreciate. The way he was slow and gentle felt like he was at a spa getting a head massage. Satoru smiles as he slowly works his way up towards the roots from the ends, making sure that Suguru’s hair is detangled before working up higher onto his head. 

The sun had gone down and the lights of the city were glittering just outside the window. Satoru takes a breath slowly, thinking about his question before he speaks. “Do you think we’ll be good parents, Sugu?” Satoru asks, his words cutting through the silence of their bedroom. 

Suguru’s eyes open, looking up at the ceiling as his head is still resting back over the chair as Satoru brushes through his hair. “What makes you ask?”

Satoru shrugs his shoulders, twisting his lips to the side as he thinks. “I don’t really know… Just thinking about it, I guess.” He says, furrowing his brows as he continues brushing, even though he’s been done getting all the tangles out for a while now. Questions like this one weren't anything out of the ordinary for Satoru. He’d ask random little things like “What do you think we’ll look like when we’re old,” or “How many pets at once is too many for us to have?” It always made Suguru smile, knowing that Satoru was thinking about their future together just as much as he was. 

Suguru leans his head back over the chair even further, looking at Satoru upside down with a smile on his face. “I think we’ll be great parents, don’t you think?”

Satoru leans forwards and presses a kiss to his lips, his nose bumping against Suguru’s chin, causing them both to chuckle lightly. “How many do you want?” Satoru asks, setting the brush to the side of him in the chair, looking down at Suguru as he still looks up at him upside down.  

They’d talked about it before, but this felt more serious. Now that they were about to buy a house, it felt more real to them; like it’s finally a feasible possibility. “I feel like two is a nice number, don’t you?” Suguru replies. He realizes that Satoru is done brushing his hair and lifts his head up once again. He turns his chair around so that he’s now facing Satoru, the two of them sitting at the window, looking out at the lights as they talk. 

“I was actually thinking ten, but two is a good start.” Satoru says jokingly, pulling a breathy laugh from Suguru.

“I think ten is a bit much.” Suguru says with a chuckle, clasping his fingers together in front of his stomach as he sits back in his chair. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Satoru agrees with him, knowing that he wasn’t actually serious. “We’d have to buy a much bigger house if that was the case.”

“Exactly.” Suguru agrees, glancing over to where Satoru sits in his chair, his arm resting over the side with his hand dangling freely. He reaches out and grabs Satoru’s hand, playing with the silver ring that circles his ring finger with a smile. “You emailed Yumi back?” He asks, breaking the comfortable silence in the room.

Satoru nods his head with a gentle smile, standing up from his chair and plopping himself down in Suguru’s lap. He wraps his arms around the back of his neck and pulls himself closer, resting his head against Suguru’s. “Yep. She probably won’t respond until tomorrow, but I’m excited to hear back.” Suguru’s hand snakes underneath his shirt to rub slowly over his warm skin as they sit there for a moment, just taking in each other’s presence in the soft warm light of their bedroom. 

Looking down at Suguru’s face for a moment, a smile sits on Satoru’s lips before he leans in for a tender kiss. Their movements are slow as they come together, their soft lips pressing against each other’s in a way that sends warm tingles all throughout both of their bodies. Suguru brings his free hand up to cup underneath Satoru’s jaw, holding this face with a warm hand. 

“Can I ask a favor of you?” Suguru whispers, their lips just inches apart from each other. 

Satoru smiles down at him, bringing his own hand to cup under Suguru’s jaw, mirroring the position that he’s in. “Anything for you, my sweet.” He says with a soft smirk, wondering whatever it could be that his husband is asking him to do in such a sultry tone of voice.

Suguru presses one more kiss to Satoru’s lips, smiling against them before pulling back once again to ask his burning question in an alluring whisper, his eyes half lidded as he stares into Satoru’s bright blues. “Would you go out to the kitchen and bring me back one of those cream puffs?” 

chapter 4

[certainwizardlady]

Day 11: Opulence

[arc852]

11. Opulence

Definition: great wealth or luxuriousness.

Summary: Grian comes from a very rich family. On his 13th birthday he recieves a very expensive, and very strange, gift from his parents.

G/t: Grian is normal-sized, Scar is a borrower

Warnings: Buying a person, giving a person as a gift, calling a person a pet, and mentions of bad parents.

Word Count: 2500

AO3 Link

I actually quite like this one! And I'll be honest, the warnings make it sound angstier than it actually is. I promise, Grian does not see Scar as a pet. The warnings are more about his parents.

There will also be a part 2 to this on day 20! So I hope you enjoy!

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 Grian’s family was very rich.

 Stupidly rich.

 Now, Grian wasn’t unthankful for this. It was nice not having to worry about anything and getting whatever he wanted was an added bonus. When he was a kid, especially, he loved telling the house staff what to do and was honestly pretty spoiled when it came down to it.

 Now that he was a bit older, he had realized that, while he had every toy he could ever want, he never really had his parents.

 His parents were always busy. And now that Grian was 13, he could see that giving him what he wanted was their way to try and make up for that.

 After he realized that, being rich had all but lost its appeal.

 Grian sighed as he walked down the stairs and toward the kitchen. Today was his birthday but Grian wasn’t expecting anything but a big expensive present waiting for him.

 Which is why, Grian was surprised when he entered the kitchen to see his mom cooking pancakes and his dad seated at the table. His eyes were wide as he went back and forth between both of his parents, wondering if this was even real.

 His dad looked over and smiled at him. “Hey! Happy Birthday, Grian.” His dad came over and gave him a hug, which Grian reciprocated wholeheartedly. His mom, at his dad’s words, turned around and also gave him a smile.

 “Happy Birthday Grian. Oh, I can’t believe my little boy is 13 already.” She briefly left her station to hug him as well before going back to cooking. It was strange, Grian hadn’t seen his mom cook in…well, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen his mom cook.

 “I-I thought you two were going on a business trip today.” Grian said as he slowly took a seat next to his dad at the table.

 “Oh, we still are.” His dad admitted. “But we had some time beforehand and we figured we would make you some breakfast and give you your present in person before we left.”

 Ah, so they were still leaving. It dampened Grian’s mood a little but that was fine. Just this little bit of time with them was more than he had been expecting already. He decided to soak it up as much as he could.

 “Yes, 13 is an important birthday! You’re practically an adult now.” His mom joked as she came over and put some pancakes on his plate. She let out a sigh. “Oh, I remember when you were just a baby. You were so small.”

 “Mom…” Grian trailed off, acting embarrassed. But in his mind he was wondering how she could remember that if she was never around. He was pretty sure his nanny at the time had done most of the work in taking care of him back then.

 He didn’t say anything though, wanting to continue the show as they were performing it. Acting, even for just a brief moment, that they were a normal family.

 They ate and talked and it was the first time in a long time that he felt like his parents actually cared about him. It was nice. The best birthday gift he could have gotten, honestly.

 But his parents being here with him was not his actual birthday gift. They all got up and his mom hugged him again as his dad went and fetched his present. He came back holding a small box with tiny holes poked in the top of it.

 “This is a very special present, so we wanted to give it to you ourselves.” His dad said, holding it out to him. Grian frowned but took the box carefully, looking at it confused. This was unlike any present he had ever gotten before. 

 “There are some rules to this present as well.” His mom said, looking serious. “You must not show or tell anyone outside of this family about it and you must take care of it. It’s your responsibility now.”

 Okay, his parents were starting to freak him out now. “I don’t understand.” He said.

 “You will.” His dad said. “Go ahead and open it.”

 Grian bit his lip, nerves spiked with how serious his parents were being all of a sudden. He took a deep breath and lifted the lid off the box and peered inside.

 His brain short-circuited.

 “What…?”

 “Surprise!” His mom said with a grin. “We know it’s not great when we have to leave all the time, so we got you your very own little companion!”

 Grian stared down at the tiny person sitting in the box. He was looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes and something in Grian’s heart broke. “This…this is a tiny person.” Grian said, still shocked.

 His dad chuckled. “Well, person is going a bit far. They’re called borrowers and I got one when I was your age from my dad. And he got one from his dad and so on. It’s our family secret, so to say.” He winked a bit but Grian felt a bit sick on how his dad was talking about the little guy. 

 “Hmm, when your father told me about them, I thought it was perfect! Your own little pet.” His mom chimed in with a soft smile.

 Pet. No, that was wrong. This guy was clearly a person, just…smaller. 

 His dad ruffled his hair with a hand. “You take good care of him now. He was quite the expensive purchase. I don’t want to come back and find it dead or gone.” His dad joked but with an undertone of seriousness that Grian could clearly make out. “Now, your mother and I have to leave. We’ll be back in a few weeks.”

 His mother kissed the top of his head. “See you later. And happy birthday.”

 And with that, Grian watched them leave through the front door.

 And Grian was alone.

 Well, no actually, he wasn’t.

 He looked back down at the borrower in the box he was still holding. The guy couldn’t be much older than himself and he seemed to have scars across his face. Grian winced at that, wondering what could have caused those. But most importantly, he was still being looked at with a lot of fear.

 Grian bit his lip and decided to head up to his room first. He didn’t want any of the house staff seeing the borrower after all.

 He closed his door behind him and sat on his bed, looking back down at the borrower. “Hey…” He started off with, feeling awkward. The sound of his voice seemed to have startled the borrower, because he saw the little guy jump before his eyes were back up to looking at Grian. “Don’t listen to anything my parents said, I know you’re a person. Not a pet.” Grian decided to make things clear where he stood. Maybe then he would stop being looked at with so much fear. 

 The borrower’s eyes widened. “You…really?” He said, his voice quiet but filled with surprise. Grian nodded.

 “Of course. I’m sorry they…um, gave you to me.” Grian said, looking away.

 “Oh! You don’t have to be sorry, it wasn’t your fault.” The borrower said and Grian looked back down in his own surprise at how much the borrower was suddenly speaking. “Besides, if not you, I would have been bought and given to someone else. I’m glad it's someone who sees me as a person.” The borrower smiled a little.

 Grian’s heart sank at the new information. “Oh…” He would have been in this situation no matter what, it seems like. And a lot worse off if his parents hadn’t been the ones to buy him. Did that mean there were other borrowers out there? Also caught and waiting to be sold and shipped to people who saw them as nothing but pets?

 “Still, I’m sorry you even had to be…sold or caught in the first place.” Grian said, feeling sad for him.

 The borrower was silent for a moment. “My name is Scar.” He said with a small smile. “I…was honestly expecting for you to change it but…it doesn’t seem like that’s where this is going?” The last bit was asked more as a question and Grian realized that Scar was still nervous and scared. It made sense though. Grian would also be scared if he found himself in the presence of someone so much larger than himself.

 “No, definitely not.” Grian reassured him and returned the smile as best as he could. “I’m Grian.”

 “Nice to meet you, Grian!” Surprisingly, Scar sounded genuine. “So…if I’m not going to be your pet…what happens now?”

 Wasn’t that the question. Grian was trying to figure that out himself. “Well…unfortunately, I don’t think I can just…let you go.” He winced at his own words. He would love to set Scar free and maybe even help him find his family, but his dad’s words echoed in his head.

 Grian was shocked to see Scar nodding his head. “I…I figured.” He didn’t seem happy about it but more resigned. “I heard what your dad said. About not wanting to find me gone.” Or dead, but nobody said that part out loud.

 “Yeah…I’m sorry.” Grian said with another wince.

 “It’s okay.” Scar said but Grian really didn’t think it was. Still, he was afraid of what his dad would do if his ‘very expensive gift’ and ‘family secret’ suddenly disappeared. 

 “Even if that’s out of the question though, I don’t want to treat you like a pet. Or like you belong to me.” Grian said firm on that idea at least. “Maybe we could…be friends?”

 “Friends?” Scar said, eyes going wide.

 Unknown to either of them, but both had never had any friends before. Scar, because he hadn’t met too many other borrowers, much less ones his own age. And after getting captured and sold, the only borrowers he saw were from a distance. Grian, because he did online school and was never really allowed out of the house. He had some cousins that would sometimes come over and play but he wouldn’t really consider them friends.

 This would be the first time either of them had a real, true friend.

 “Y-Yeah.” Grian said, rubbing the back of his head suddenly feeling nervous. “We could hang out and I could set up a little room for you in here. And you would have a say in everything! I would never do something that you didn’t want to do.” Grian knew how easy it would be for him to do whatever he wanted to Scar. But Grian didn’t want to be the kind of person who acted on that.

 “That…that sounds really nice, actually.” Scar said with a small smile, tearing up a little. “I think the two of us could be great friends!” His smile widened.

 Grian felt his nerves ease a bit and he felt…happy. He hated that this had to happen to Scar but…a selfish part of himself was happy he was able to meet Scar at all.

 “I think so too.” Grian said. “Now, uh, we should probably get you out of that box…” He trailed off, knowing what he was suggesting and getting nervous about not only Scar’s reaction but doing it as well.

 He watched Scar tense up a bit before trying to make himself relax. “Right, yeah, this box is a little stuffy.” Scar carefully stood up in the box, stretching his limbs and peered up at Grian. “I’m ready.” He steeled his nerves, preparing himself to be grabbed.

 Grian’s mind went blank at the thought of grabbing Scar, just like that. Even though Scar didn’t say anything against it, he could tell the borrower wasn’t looking forward to it. And Grian had promised to not do anything Scar didn’t want to do. So there had to be another way.

 Grian bit his lip and then lowered his hand. Scar flinched back but was confused when the hand simply laid flat in front of him, palm up. He looked at his hand for a moment before looking up at Grian. Grian looked at him with a nervous smile. “I…figured this would be better than grabbing you. You can hop on whenever you’re ready.”

 Scar blinked and then looked back down at the hand. Nothing about all of this was going how he thought it was going to go. He thought he would be grabbed, given a new name, played with, and disregarded as nothing more than a pet.

 Instead, Grian saw him as the person he was. And though he wasn’t going to be let go, Grian wanted to be friends. And if Grian continued to let him have a say in things and not do anything he didn’t want…well, then maybe this would be okay. More than okay even. Maybe Scar could even learn to like it here with Grian.

 He was still scared of Grian and the future, but at least it was looking a bit brighter now.

 With a deep breath, Scar stepped onto the hand. 

 Having an entire person fit in the palm of your hand was weird. Grian couldn’t help but think this as he watched Scar climb on and sit down in the center of his palm. Instinctively, Grian’s fingers curled inwards a bit, just enough so they hovered over Scar. But then Scar flinched and Grian made his fingers jump back into place.

 “Sorry.” He apologized. “Um, ready?”

 Scar nodded, ready as he would ever be. At least it was better than being grabbed. He had dealt with that more times than he would have liked already. 

 At Scar’s nod, Grian carefully lifted his hand up and out of the box. He discarded the box onto the floor as he lifted Scar to just about eye level. From here, he was able to make out more of the tinier details to Scar’s features. Like his green eyes. 

 “Wow…” Grian breathed out in awe and then caught himself, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “Um, sorry. I just…you’re so small.”

 Scar couldn’t help but chuckle despite himself. “It’s okay, I get it.” He was having a similar feeling over how big Grian was. The first giant that didn’t seem to want to hurt or use him.

 Grian was grateful Scar didn’t seem weirded out by his comment and quickly but gently moved over to his nightstand and let Scar off his hand. Scar was glad to finally be back on solid ground.

 Scar stood up straight and turned to Grian. “Thanks.” Scar said, and it was meant for more than just the ride out of the box.

 Grian picked up on this and nodded. “You’re welcome.” Again, he hated that this had to be Scar’s reality. But at least Grian could treat him the way he deserved. Like a person.

 They still had a long road ahead of them. Full of exercises in trust, mistakes, and figuring this all out.

 But they would get through it.

 Together.

[reddish-ash]

Day 11

Opulence

- And here is one of my favorite places...

✨- the library✨

these are treasures!!

[quitealotofsodapop]

Grandpa Sun has accidentally walked into traffic before while gazing lovingly at their Nainai Mac.

Is this common the whole time of Shadowpeach? Or is it because Mac was wearing/doing something? Are all Wukongs like this? The funny thing is that I can see both DBK and Red Son do something.

It is *very* common for Shadowpeach. Normally it's cus Mac was smiling/laughing at something and Wukong's brain shut off for a moment in bliss.

Worst time in the AU was the first time Wukong saw Macaque in modern day clothing.

The newly-formed gang were doing a day out to do errands and Tang was helping Macaque pick out clothes so he could shed his old armor/robes. Wukong and Pigsy were across the street doing groceries. Macaque steps out, and being of a fashionable mind set, is wearing a completely normal black turtleneck and red skirt (to match his scarf). Wukong's brain has an internal-crash-error at the sight and he literally walks into traffic cus he forgot to wait for the crossing light. No car accidents, but he did get hit by a low flying drone. Macaque was confused but laughed at Wukong's distraction. This was also how Wukong learned that he could feel mortal pain again.

A similar incident occurred the first time Macaque dressed up for a night at the theatre. This monkey goes from zero to a hundred fashion wise. Either he's dressed like Velma from Scooby Doo, or he's wearing full opulent finery like the drama king he is. Cue full jaw drop from Wukong. Macaque knows what he's doing.

DBK def did something similar the first time he met PIF. Like... during a break-in at the Palace he caught a single glimpse of her and walked straight into a pillar. PIF proceded to see him, have a brief second of anger at the intruder, and then have her own mental stutter when she went over to yell at him.

Red Son and MK already have a canonical meet cute of MK falling right on top of Red and taking the Staff. Red wasn't sure how to feel about it and continued to fail at playing it cool for the rest of the series. MK has discovered that simply running his hand/tail under Red's chin causes the fire demon to almost combust. MK isn't immune either. Red calls him a single pet name and MK is all over him like Gomez hearing Morticia speaking french.

For the rest of the SWKs in the Wukongverse? Definitely. Smash!SWK literally crashes mid-parkour stream into a 7/11 cus he saw a cute monkey demon inside. Both HeroisBack!SWK and Reborn!SWK would both get distracted mid-battle at watching their Macaques fight, prompting getting them an arrow to the knee/bonk on the head. Netflix!SWK would be flying around on Stick and hit a whole ass mountain cus he was busy watching his passenger. NewGods!SWK claims he doesn't have such a problem with his mate, but is proven a liar when his Macaque walks past wearing only his pyjamas and NewGods!SWK mis-pours a pitcher of orange juice onto his suit.

Their brains can only hold so much attention your honor.

[mekachu04]

11. Meeting

Kidd - 17 | Killer - 21 | Heat - 22 | Wire - 23

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Violence / Death

Aftermath of Victoria's murder

Songfic

Kidd will be the Pirate King

Kidd gets his name - Captain

Kidd meets Victoria Punk

Read at A03 (on the 11th!) linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Kidd sat on the throne of blood, opulence and wealth around him, the other three bosses before him.

The whole island was at his fingertips - everything Kutsukku had to offer his for the taking. The thick plush carpets and heavy tapestries on the walls. Glistening hardwood and marble floors. Paintings framed in gold.

His whole life - he couldn't fathom such affluence. The trash cans of this new world he had conquered held more wealth than his name once did.

This is what killed Victoria. The hand that stuck her down might have belonged to the corpse he's left smeared across the floor downstairs - but this place is what killed her in the end. The drive to take every penny from the island, just to decorate rooms like this.

He could live the rest of his life in luxury here. Haunted by Victoria but never wanting another day in his life. Only...

"Do what you want." he said finally, pushing himself up out of the plush chair. "I'm taking my cut and I'm out of here."

Bosses Heat & Wire just nodded; this was a temporary alliance at best. They'd had their own reasons for joining, but Victoria had never been one of them. If there was a way to end this amicably, then all the better.

Killer however...

"Out of here?"

They used to be friends. Hell, Killer was the closest to a parent Kidd had. The last couple of years had pushed them apart but once...

Once they'd crawled around the Heaps together - playing pretend. Imagined the trash yard as any place but here. Of the ocean and the blue blue horizon and of adventure and escape.

Of Roger and his treasures.

Oh, better far to live and die

Of that stupid little ditty that he'd heard as a child. Little him clinging to the words of drunken fools filling his head with fantastic nonsense.

Under the brave black flag I fly,

"Yeah... Out of here..." He looked at the wealth around the room. "Certainly enough here for a ship of my own."

Than play a sanctimonious part,

"A ship?" Boss Wire asked; he and Heat both looking at him curiously.

With a pirate head and a pirate heart

It wasn't like being a pirate was a step down from a crime boss. He'd still be his own man, but without this awful island holding him down.

Away to the cheating world go you,

"Yeah... Buy a ship. Sail out of here. Never look back" he grinned, a little manic, looking a the other three as the idea took hold for the first time with any real roots. It's a child fantasy. But now...

Where pirates all are well to do,

"Come with me. Fuck this place. We'll take what we want; burn this place down and just go."

But I'll be true to the song I sing,

"That's a big ask, kid boss. What are we gonna do with a boat? Fish?"

And live and die -

"I'm gonna be the Pirate King."

Killer face was unreadable as ever, hidden behind bangs and a blood splattered cloth mask. But Kidd knew he was staring him down. Judging his resolve.

It was a child's declaration. Shouted back in the days when Victoria didn't hate them yet and Killer still curled around him in the dark to chase away both chills and the things that went bump in the night.

If Wire or Heat thought to mock him, the intensity of the look between Kidd and Killer held their tongues.

Finally Killer looked away, "You don't know shit about sailing."

"I'll learn. I'll find people who do, get 'em to teach me."

"You hate being told what to do. Who'd you actually bother to listen to long enough to learn?"

"You."

Killer looked up sharply at that, this time his hair fell in a way to pierce Kidd with a ice blue glare.

"Boss Killer - you sail?" Heat asked softly.

"That was a long time ago. I was a child." He never looked away from Kidd, voice chipped and cold.

"Yet you had such a stick in your ass about it when we played pretend." Kidd goaded, "Used to hit me when I called the imaginary ropes the wrong thing."

"I have a few men who've sailed," Wire offered as a way to ease the tension building in the room, "Self included. Small boats only, but I do know a little."

"So Killer & Wire sail with me." Kidd looked at the last man standing, "You wanna stay here and be King Boss, or come with us, Heat?"

Wire raised a delicate eyebrow at Kidd's assumption he was gong along with him just like that, but... "You coming with us Heat?" he teased his long-time rival.

Heat scowled, "And what, the kid Boss will be Pirate King? What does that make the rest of us?"

"Free." Killer murmured solemnly.

Wire, Heat & Kidd looked at him sharply.

Kidd nodded slowly.

Yeah.

Free.

***

She's not a home yet, but Kidd feels like it's the closest he's ever had to just a place. Home was the people - places can be taken from you too easily. He'd learned that very early in life. And recently, he learned people could be taken away too, at any time with even less warning. But he'd not going to let that happen again. This will be Home - and he could afford to have one built just for him. But She called...

"I want Her." was all he said.

"Okay Captain," was all Wire & Heat said. Killer nodded in approval.

In turn, Kidd had turned to look at the trio - stunned by the name. Heat just smirked back, Wire shrugged, and Killer walked right on past him to flag down one of the ship masters.

[kaiju-wolfdragon]

Gt July day 11: opulence