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waywardxrhea · 3 months ago

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Right Person, Right Time - Spencer Reid

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

part three of mini series: Casual, butterfly effect

There is a BAU celebration at David's house and Spencer invites you as his plus one so you can formally meet the team.

word count: ~2.1k

content: fluff! sickly sweet fluff i was kicking my feet and giggling while writing this!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

now playing: Right Person, Right Time by Leanna Firestone <3

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer asked, leaning down a bit to kiss the bare part of your neck that he could access at the moment. Spencer practically wrapped himself around you from behind after helping you out of the car before the two of you were to head up the drive to the mansion of a home in front of you and it helped you relax a bit, but you guessed that he could still sense something off in your behavior.

“I’m just nervous is all…” you replied, busying your hands by messing with the clasp of the clutch you had chosen to match your dress for the night.

“What’s making you nervous?” he asked, voice just as soft as the hold he had on your waist.

“Meeting your coworkers…” you admitted in a sort of hushed whisper as you tried to control your building anxiety toward the impending moment you were to cross the threshold of the home and formally meet the BAU team. “Their first impression of me wasn’t exactly my best moment and I’m just scared that they’ll judge me for it…”

“I assure you they won’t, they’re actually really excited to meet you,” Spencer said as he pulled your body closer to his. “But if you ever feel uncomfortable at all tonight, just tell me and we’ll head home, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head as a small smile made its way onto your lips.

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked as he slowly unfurled himself from around your body.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you affirmed, lacing your fingers in his as the two of you approached the door.

When you got to the door and Spencer rang the bell, your nerves began to rise and you felt your heart begin to pound wildly in your chest, feeling like it was threatening to escape its cage at any moment. The door opened to reveal a jovial looking Italian man who greeted the both of you cheerfully, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks as if he had known you since you were a little girl. The gesture put a smile on your face and you began to feel less nervous as you offered him a gift bag you had brought that contained a bottle of fine wine that Maddie assured you would impress him.

He took the bottle out from the bag and examined it, a smile on his face as he said, “Ciacci Piccolomini d'Aragona, a fine choice young lady! I’ve been meaning to get my hands on a bottle of this! Thank you!”

“Of course, thank you for opening up your home to us,” you told him graciously, your gaze darting around the beautiful home as he guided you and Spencer into the area where the rest of the BAU members were milling about chatting amongst themselves.

When the three of you emerged into the area, eyes were instantly on you and they weighed heavily, causing your own to dart down to the floor as your grip on Spencer’s hand tightened. Your heart thudded hard in your ears, so much so that you barely heard Spencer announce, “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.” You looked up to him for a sense of comfort and you got it as he told the team your name in one of the fondest tones you had ever heard him speak in before planting a kiss on your forehead to seal the deal even further.

Your nerves began to decrease further as each member of the team in turn came to introduce themself warmly, without an ounce of judgment in their eyes or voice as they did. The only exception to your lessening anxiety was when Derek finally approached you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read because you once again averted your eyes as he approached you. They finally looked back up toward his face when he gently said your name and in the most sincere and remorseful voice told you, “I’m sorry for coming off as rude the first few times we encountered each other.” His tone turned into more of a teasing one as he gently punched Spencer’s arm and added, “It’s no excuse on my part, but I was just happy that pretty boy here was getting some!” His tone returned to seriousness as he addressed you again, saying, “It was uncalled for though, and I’m sorry for how it made you feel. I hope you can forgive me.”

Before you could respond, Penelope joined in on the conversation, chipperly saying, “Oh look at you being all sweet and apologizing!” She leaned closer to you and said in an almost conspiratory voice, “I was rooting for you the whole time! Call it friend intuition or what have you, but from the moment I saw you two together at the bar I knew things would work out!”

You let out a quiet laugh at her words and leaned into Spencer’s embrace as you told the pair, “Thank you. I’m happy things worked out as well as they did.”

Before the conversation could go any further, your lovely host reemerged into the area and clapped his hands together as he announced, “All right, I hope everyone is hungry! Tonight is carbonara a la Rossi paired with a beautiful wine courtesy of the lovely future Mrs. Reid.” He ended the statement with a wink in your direction that had you blushing and burying your face into Spencer’s shoulder as he chuckled.

“Oh come on David, don’t embarrass the girl so soon!” Emily jokingly chastised him as the group began migrating to the kitchen to dig into the meal.

As everyone served themselves and sat down, Spencer asked David something quietly and the older man nodded before heading back into the kitchen and returning with a bottle of white wine that he placed beside you along with a glass. “Reds aren’t for everyone, I understand,” he told you, gently squeezing your shoulder as Spencer grabbed the bottle and began opening it to pour you a glass.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to accommodate me like that though, I wouldn’t want to put you out of your collection,” you rambled apologetically as you eyed the expensive looking bottle in Spencer’s hands.

“What’s a good wine for if not for sharing?” David asked, giving you a warm smile before he made his way to his seat at the head of the table to begin the meal.

By the end of the meal you were on your second glass of deliciously smooth and sweet white wine and had finished your pasta, telling David, “I think this is hands down the best pasta I’ve ever had!”

“Why thank you, sweetheart,” he replied with a chuckle. Just as your attention was being taken away by JJ asking you a question about your job, you could have sworn you saw David mouth to Spencer ‘I love her’ which made your heart soar as you felt Spencer’s hand squeeze your thigh right as he did.

Later that evening after dessert and another few glasses of wine, you had your legs draped over Spencer’s lap as you lounged in the living room, deep in conversation with Derek about the latest NFL season. Derek’s laugh rang throughout the room as he persisted in his playful argument with you, saying, “Nuh uh, your Chiefs got nothing on my Bears! We’re set up for the playoffs while the Chiefs are having one of the worst seasons in the NFL!”

“Just you wait! One day they’ll be Super Bowl Champs!” you retaliated with a giggle falling from your lips.

“No way! With their record lately, I’d be surprised if they’re even a team come next season!” Derek teased.

“Oh bite me!” you said with a playful roll of your eyes.

“Nah, you’ve got pretty boy to do that for you,” he said as he sent a wink in Spencer’s direction.

You pulled yourself forward and hung your arms around Spencer’s neck and sent him pleading eyes as you said, “Come on, Spence, back me up here!”

Spencer shook his head as he chuckled and told you, “I love you, but I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” He leaned into you and kissed you quickly before adding, “But you look damn good so I say you’re winning here.”

“Why thank you,” you said matter-of-factly before giving him another kiss back, earning a wolf whistle from Derek.

After parting ways from David’s house and once more telling everyone how good it was to meet them, you and Spencer had made your way back to his apartment for the evening. You giggled as you held onto Spencer for balance, your heels and the wine in your system doing no favors for your coordination. “Did you have a good night?” Spencer asked as he unlocked the door and guided you inside, leading you to the couch and helping you out of your heels.

“Mmm, I did,” you told him, a lazy smile on your face as you momentarily closed your eyes.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked with a chuckle, his voice a bit far off as you assumed he was putting your shoes in their place by the door.

“I wanna dance,” you told him.

“You want to dance?” Spencer asked with a bit of humor in his voice as he helped you to stand.

“Yes, I wanna slow dance with you,” you told him while gesturing to the record player on the table nearby.

“Then slow dance we shall,” he replied as he let go of you temporarily in order to flick through his record collection to choose the perfect one for the occasion. When you heard the tell-tale crackling of the record starting up, Spencer was back in your arms and telling you, “But just a fair warning I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Neither am I, I just want to be in your arms,” you told him as the beginning notes to The Way You Look Tonight by Frank Sinatra began playing.

So the two of you swayed in each other’s arms to each song on the first side of the Sinatra record. Spencer occasionally twirled you around slowly with the biggest smile on his face before pulling you into a kiss. When the record stopped spinning, you let out a tired yawn and leaned into Spencer’s chest as you closed your eyes contently.

“How about we get ready for bed?” Spencer offered quietly which made you startle back into consciousness that you didn’t even realize you faded out of.

Rather than replying verbally, you simply nodded and held Spencer’s hand as he guided you into the bathroom where the two of you brushed your teeth and he helped you with as much of your skin routine as he could before you were already nodding off once more. Getting you out of your dress and into a nightgown was a bit of an easier task for Spencer and he got you comfortable in the bed before he began changing into his night clothes too.

Right before Spencer could pull back the covers and join your already sleeping form, his phone began to ring with a video call from his mother. He quickly answered the call as he exited the bedroom and greeted his mom with a warm smile and a, “Hey Mom, is everything okay?”

“You look disgustingly smitten, Spencer. Did you meet someone?” Diana asked as her form of greeting to her son.

Spencer chuckled as he grabbed a glass to fill with water, nodding to his mother and telling her your name once again and how he had taken you to meet the team today and then slow danced in his living room to Frank Sinatra. “I’m really happy, Mom,” he told her fondly as he sat down on the couch. “Before I met her I always thought that love had passed me by and that there was something wrong with me. I always wondered what about myself I could change to be more appealing to others but then she came into my life and she makes me love who I am. I swear she’s like sunshine in human form and I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“I can’t wait to meet the lucky girl,” she agreed. “When you know, you know, and I can see it in your eyes that you do.”

Spencer nodded, telling her, “That I do.”

After Diana ended the video call with Spencer a little while later, he made his way back into the bedroom and snuck under the covers to be with you. Even asleep you gravitated toward him, your legs intertwining with his and your face snuggling into his chest as a small smile made its way onto your lips. Letting out a content sigh, Spencer kissed your forehead and closed his eyes, feeling like the happiest man on earth in that moment.

a/n: omg y'all i'm sad to see this couple go they were so fun to write! but here she is! the final part of the Casual mini series! it was fun getting to know this Reader as she introduced herself to me and gosh, i think this part was one of the fluffiest things i've ever written and i'm here for it!

as always, likes and comments are appreciated! xo, brooke <3

ps can i just say how much i love the gif up top? he just looks so cute and happy! i have heart eyes looking at him!

taglists:

general: @reidmarieprentiss

casual: @princess-ofthe-pages @spicyspirit @misserabella @lillianacristina @lullvu @theylovemelody

Spencer: @i-live-in-spite

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds

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cheriecelestial · 3 months ago

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Jacob Black's Self Saving System Pt.1

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ crack.swearing.not proofread

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Jason, a self-proclaimed no. 1 Stephenie Meyer hater, finds himself unexpectedly transmigrated into the very novel he disdained. Following this ironic twist of fate, he is now tasked with the challenge of creating a better version of the story himself.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Inspired from @duckysprouts ’s series. It’s so good ⁉️‼️. If you haven’t seen it already, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT. Like finally svsss content that isn’t shizun sphinx cats or binghe skin creature abomination. Art and concept so fresh it made my heart cry with joy and pulled me out of my three-month long writing slump. So, I humbly present this as an offering to our lord and savior, Ducky. Comment, Reblog and Like (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer was a modern classic in its renaissance era with a large cult that loved to hate it. Set in a place with relentless rain, mist shrouded forest and an ethereal light piercing the gloom — the light being the one of only Edward Cullen. Though the statement is subject to fan bias — he was a man, rather sparkly vampire, who somehow managed to be both irresistible and perpetually constipated.

Nonetheless, his charms never overshadowed the stellar performance of our female lead, Isabella Marie Swan— better known as Bella — a teenager who gained worldwide fame for having a personality less vibrant than a wet cabbage. Together, they navigated the perilous world of teenage angst, vampire baseball, millenia old racist italian politicians and werewolves with a curious t-shirt allergy, all in an impressively monotone palette.

It was a heartwarming tale that began with awkward stares, cryptic yet nauseatingly clichéd conversations and Bella’s inexplicable attraction to danger, making the romance as thrilling as it was perplexing. Meanwhile, the supporting cast of her high school friends, each with their own irrelevant quirks and subplots, served as convenient plot devices — appearing and disappearing at the whim of the author.

And as if her love life wasn’t tumultuous enough, Bella befriended Jacob Black. A werewolf who, unsurprisingly, hated all things vampire and Edward Cullen in particular. Between Edward’s brooding, Jacob’s abs and Bella’s classic damsel-in-distress antics that made poor Elena Gilbert seem unremarkable by comparison — the story unfolded with the subtlety of a glitter bomb and reached unprecedented heights of melodrama. Something that helped the tale become a global phenomenon, demonstrating that improbable love stories can indeed shine in their own sparkly “skin-of-a-killer” fashion.

“This has to be the worst piece of literature I’ve ever read in my life.” Those were strong words from a man who spent years and at least six hundred dollars collecting softbacks and hardbacks in every special and limited edition the series offered. Jason Black was an anti-fan who lived to scoff at the literary mediocrities of authors who, after taking one look at their drafts, believed they deserved to be released into the world as actual literature. Such people, often inspired by similar works, spawned their own deranged narratives, subsequently contaminating the sanctity of literature.

In layman’s terms, Jason was a fervent hater of the highest order. He had a long list of things he despised about the series, yet curiously, re-watching the movies and re-reading the books always found its way to the top of his to-do list every other weekend. But do not get him wrong, not once did he say anything in favour of the series. Jason simply considered it one of those brain-rotting pieces that needed to be experienced to truly appreciate the beauty of classics like Emily Brontë and Jane Austen.

_username_1 : Bruh stfu. You’re probably an unemployed loner with nothing better to do in life than to be a keyboard warrior.

_username_2 : then idk buddy don’t read it ? It’s not that hard.

Jason huffed at the screen crossily, his fingers dancing over the keyboard unsure of what to type next. With a sigh, he stretched his arms as if preparing for battle. And a battle it was — being an anti-fan required more dedication, practice and patience than being a regular fan. What he didn’t realize was that he had knocked a water bottle off the table onto the frayed cord of his PC.

He couldn't fathom why people defended it as if their lives depended on it. If he ever met Stephenie Meyer, Jason would have a long talk with her about the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. With the number of plot holes in the books, they could qualify as swiss cheese. The inconsistencies were glaring: if sunlight made them sparkle, wouldn't they still sparkle during the day, just less brilliantly ? How did Jasper and Alice not overhear the phone call despite having super-hearing ? Why did Jasper go ballistic over a papercut when he attended a school where students would get paper cuts and scrapes all the time ? Why were vampires and werewolves the only species to exist ? And why was Bella, or more specifically her blood, so exceptional ? Did she perhaps descend from a line of flavourful blood havers or was it due to her mother's partial albinism ?

Was she special because she was the female lead, or was she the female lead because she was special ? There were so many unanswered questions and half-assed excuses for the events in the story that most explanations came from clever fans trying to make sense of things the author clearly put no effort into planning or thinking through. These questions had plagued him since he first read the series, and the lack of satisfying answers only fueled his irritation. So much so that Jason was embarrassed for the author. Regardless, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was going so he did what any intelligent person would do, i.e., spew hate comments and log off.

edward_my_bbg : Dumbfuck novel, Dumbfuck author

And as if on cue, a new notification popped up, dragging him back into the fray. It was another comment, this time mocking his apparent obsession with the series he claimed to hate. Jason’s face flushed with irritation as he furiously typed a retort, but before he could hit send, his screen flickered and went black.

He looked down and realized the water bottle he had knocked over had short-circuited his PC. With a groan, Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark screen. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a break from his self-imposed battle. His hand fumbled in the dark for the plug only to feel water on the surface. The sharp pain and crackle of electricity were the last things he knew before he plunged headfirst into endless darkness.

[Activation Code:「Dumbfuck Author, Dumbfuck Novel」 ]

[System activated]

[Pairing command successful]

“What system ?” Jason asked out loud into the void even though he knew that it was most likely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to receive a reply however he did receive one much to his surprise.

[Welcome to the system. During the opening of the 「you can you up」system currently in its development phase, we wish to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the process, you will achieve what you have stated: to transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance with your wishes into a high-end, expansive, and classic work. We wish you happiness.]

Jason blinked, trying to make sense of the message. He glanced around the dim room, half-expecting to see some kind of holographic interface or futuristic display but there was nothing. Just the voice in his head and the darkness. “What the hell is this ?” he muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

[You have been selected to participate in the beta phase of the 「you can you up」 system. Your task is to improve the story you despise, turning it into a masterpiece. All resources and guidance will be provided to you. Do you accept this challenge ?]

Jason hesitated, the situation seemed absurd, yet a part of him was intrigued. As he sat in silence, a thought occurred to him—what if he could actually fix all the plot holes that drove him up a wall ? Maybe this was his chance to prove he could do better. But then, the possibility of all of this being real seemed too slim. How did he get here ? What happened to him after the electric shock? Was he dying, or was he already dead ? "And if I don't accept ?" he asked, uncertainty and fear bleeding into his voice despite his attempt at maintaining his composure. The system responded quickly in the same mechanical tone as before.

[Your connection between your former body and soul was severed before the initiation of the program. If you choose not to accept, you will be returned to your previous reality with no changes made. This opportunity is unique and will not be offered again.]

“Severed from my body ? Wait— doesn’t that mean I’ll die if I don’t accept ?” Jason's question hung in the air, met with nothing but silence from the system. The lack of response only confirmed his fear.

The system's silence was deafening, seemingly pressing him to make a decision. Realizing he had little choice, Jason took a deep breath. “Fine, I accept,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. How bad could it possibly be ?

[Command acknowledged. Initializing story rewrite mode.]

The void around him began to shift and wrap. Till now he felt as though he was floating with no sensation except the system’s sound. His reality dissolved into swirling colours and Jason felt himself being pulled into a vortex. When the chaos settled, he heard a man’s voice call out to him. Unlike the clinical tone of system, this voice felt comforting and personal. He could feel tender warmth run through him however he couldn’t quite figure out what the voice was saying.

“Son ? Can you hear me ?”

“Dad ?” Jason murmured involuntarily, his voice hoarse as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. The gravel in the voice reminded him of the joys of his childhood when his dad was still — wait a second. Who the hell is that ?

His eyes struggled to focus as his eyelids fluttered a few times. Eventually, he was able to make out his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Unlike the damp ceiling of his old apartment with its peeling plaster and harsh lighting, this one had old glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. It wasn’t familiar, but it seemed oddly comforting, like he had known it all his life. He slowly turned his head and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a wheelchair beside him with concern clouding his face. The man's russet complexion was lined with wrinkles yet his hair was long and lustrous.

“Where am I ?”

“You’re at home. You’ve been asleep for so long, it’s alright if you’re confused. Take your time son.” The man he called ‘dad’ answered sincerely.

Jason’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The familiarity of the room and the comforting presence of the man didn’t align with the reality he remembered. In that moment, everything came back to him—his death, the void, the system, everything. Jason went into what could only be described as psychological shock. His brain went on autopilot.

The man reached out to grab Jason’s hand, but Jason flinched and pulled away. Slivers of hurt flashed in the old man’s eyes as he slowly withdrew his hand. Jason hadn’t meant to react so harshly, but the information dump combined with the influx of sensory input, he was simply too overwhelmed to cope.

“I-I think i need some space. Do you mind ?” Jason spoke each word carefully, then added, “...dad,” feeling strangely guilty for hurting his feelings. The old man nodded slowly and wheeled himself out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jason jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror. "Who the FUCK is this?"

Staring back at him was a boy, fifteen or sixteen, with the same russet skin as the old man and glossy black hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. Recognizing the features, Jason knew this could only be one person.

[System activation successful ! Binding your role as : Jacob Black]

[System : Booting Up]

Jason, now Jacob Black, stared at his reflection in disbelief. The reality of his situation hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He brought his fist to his mouth and sobbed into it, and here he thought college was devastating. “But I’m Team Edward,” he choked out between sobs. “That’s so fucked up.”

[Thank you for initiating the execution of the system. You are not bound with the account ‘Jacob Black’. All resources and guidance will be provided to you in due time. Initial B points : 100]

Jason—Jacob—felt a rush of confusion and frustration. “Now what the hell are B points ?!” he yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls of the unfamiliar room. The loudness of his own voice startled him, making him realize just how different everything felt in this new body.

[As the plot progresses, a number of opportunities to gain more points will be available. Please make sure your B points are not lower than 0. Otherwise, the system will automatically impose penalties.]

He stumbled back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair, which was definitely longer and thicker than he remembered. He could feel the strength in his limbs, the vitality of youth coursing through him. Yet, despite the physical vigor, his mind was in turmoil. He had transmigrated into the very novel he hated; the universe always seemed to have a field day when it came to ruining his life. Jacob looked around the room that was littered with the relics of a life he had to now live — a cozy bed with rumpled sheets, a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and posters of motorcycles, bands and scenic landscapes on the walls.

“Um, so is Bella here ?” Jacob asked, scarfing down the bacon his dad made for him. Despite stressing over the role he was supposed to play in the story, he quickly adapted to his new life. He had a family, a house to live in, no worries about finding employment, no bills or taxes, a social life—or at least he assumed he had one—and, most importantly, no backaches. In hindsight, this might not be all that bad.

“Oh, you remember that ? Charlie said she’s arriving in a couple of days,” his dad, Billy, replied. Jacob felt a strange mix of anticipation and relief. Unlike most unfortunate transmigratees, he had no death flags to worry about, so he could sit back and watch Bella and Edward fall in love without “Jacob” interrupting them. Maybe he could even make things easier for Bella by acting like the perfect wingman. Who cared about making a better story anyway ? And once he had seen his OTP together, he could take his ticket out of town after the wedding and never return so that he could avoid the whole Renesmee business because some fates are worse than death.

[WARNING: Your plan is extremely dangerous and constitutes a violation. Please do not attempt it, or the system will impose strict penalties.]

Jacob choked on his water as the sudden warning window popped up in front of him. For a moment, he was so immersed in the domestic comfort of his new life that he almost forgot about the cursed system. His father looked at him with concern.

“Water went down the wrong pipe, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Jacob said awkwardly, trying to reassure his father. So you can read minds now ? He internally taunted the system.

[It is a feature designed to ensure maximum support for the user.]

“That’s bullshit. Also, what do you mean by violation ?” Jacob asked. Does this system really have no respect for privacy ? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was some kind of Zuckerberg’s meta gimmick.

[You are currently at the beginning stage. OOC function freeze is activated. You must complete the beginning stage before any functions can be unlocked. If you perform any actions against the original ‘Jacob Black’ role before the functions are unfrozen, a certain number of B points will be deducted.]

Given his extensive time spent on the internet, Jacob was well aware of what OOC meant, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. OOC stood for Out Of Character, referring to actions taken by a role that deviated from how the character was originally written.

“FUCK OFF. I’m an adult. I already finished my degree and Bella is like, a baby. And you can forget the whole Renesmee shit too. Bella belongs with Edward and and I have no intention of pursuing either her or her future daughter. So back off, you creep of a system.”

[WARNING: The system is issuing another alert. If your B points fall below 0, you will incur a penalty, which involves being automatically transported back to your original world.]

“You know, threatening me with death is really getting old,” Jacob stared at the warning message with his anger mounting. It felt like the system was encroaching on every aspect of his new life, imposing rules and restrictions without offering any clarity or real support.

He took a deep breath, trying to push past his irritation. There was no point in arguing with an automated system, especially one that clearly had its own agenda. Jacob decided to focus on what he could control. He needed to immerse himself in his role as Jacob Black and complete the introductory stage without attracting undue attention. The system’s warnings might be annoying, but he couldn’t let them derail his efforts to adapt to his new life.

As he finished his breakfast, Jacob glanced around the house. It was warm and welcoming, albeit a little messy, which was understandable. He and his dad were the only ones living there and according to his dad, he had been inexplicably unconscious for almost a week. Keeping the house tidy wasn't exactly a priority for a man worried sick about his son.

“Thanks for breakfast… Dad,” Jacob said, still not used to the idea of having a father again. There was the whole issue of stealing the real “Jacob” ’s life, dealing with imposter syndrome, and the guilt of replacing the memory of his own father by calling this old man his dad. But that was an existential crisis he chose not to mull over at the moment, especially on the precipice of the story's start. Call him selfish, but he preferred to focus on his blessings.

“I’ll go take a walk. I’ve been asleep for a while, so I need to… uh, stretch my legs,” Jacob said awkwardly, hoping Billy wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.

“Sure thing, son. Also grab some red meat from the store for dinner. A growing kid like you needs that protein. And buy yourself something nice with the leftover money,” Billy replied, taking out his wallet and handing him some cash.

Jacob stared at the man in awe. As a kid who had bounced around the foster system after his dad died, he was used to being scorned and neglected. This might be part of the reason why he had become a social recluse, spending his time bashing bad literature and authors online. To him, Billy Black was the closest thing he had ever seen to an angel.

Jacob took the money, still feeling a bit dazed. “Thanks, Dad,” he managed to say, pocketing the cash. The air filling his lungs was much fresher than the pollution-riddled air of the city he used to live in. Nature seemed a lot nicer than he remembered. So, here's a lesson for the kids—don’t wait until you die and get transmigrated into a novel you hate to understand the importance of getting outside and appreciating nature. In short, go touch some fucking grass before it’s too late.

Almost as if by instinct he found himself at La Push beach. He wandered through the familiar yet new surroundings, trying to piece together his plan. If he was going to be stuck in this world, he might as well make the best of it. He thought about the story and mentally reviewed his plan. He would stay under the radar, be friendly but unobtrusive and focus on blending in with the locals. If he played his cards right, he might just manage to navigate this strange new life without getting points deducted by the system’s restrictions.

After strolling along the shore for a while, Jacob found a rock to sit on and watch the ocean. It was a stark contrast to the urban jungle he was accustomed to, this place was serene and almost idyllic.

“Ayo, is that Jacob ? Hey, Jake !” he heard someone call out. A moment later, a boy close to his age ran up to him, followed by one more. “Um, hey guys. How’s it... going ?” Socializing wasn’t one of Jacob’s strong suits; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the skill he had meticulously avoided developing over the years.

“Man, the whole crew was freaking out about you. You were out cold for a week and for no reason !” One thing Jacob appreciated about the system was the introduction tags above each character’s head. The boy speaking was named Quil, his cousin from the Quileute tribe. He knew these interactions were unavoidable, given their significance to his new role in the plot.

“Well, I got better ?” Jacob attempted a witty quip but cringed at how poorly it landed. To his surprise, the two boys just laughed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Stop by Sam’s sometime; he’s been asking about you,” Embry said, giving Jacob a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Wait Sam ? Right of course. Duh. Sam’s place. Got it.” Jacob replied, blinking in confusion for a moment. Sam Uley was the Alpha—or at least the to-be Alpha—of the pack Jacob was supposed to join during New Moon.

[Mild OOC warning]

“Ay man, you feeling okay ?” Embry asked again, noticing Jacob’s hesitation. Jacob froze, Embry Call was the real Jacob’s best friend and if he figured out that Jason wasn’t really Jacob, it would spell massive trouble for him.

Jacob forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. I just—” He quickly tried to think of something. What would Jacob Black say in this situation ? What does he do to feel better ? He racked his brain for answers, knowing he needed to play the part convincingly, at least till he found a way to unfreeze the OOC function.

Go bother Bella ? a small voice suggested. Bella’s not here yet dumbass, another voice countered sharply. After years of social isolation, Jason’s inner dialogue had evolved to the point where he could have entire discussions with himself. No, he wasn’t schizophrenic.

“—I was just going to grab some red meat to chow on and uh y’know, work on my bike,” he finished, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves.

Embry and Quil exchanged a knowing look, which made Jacob's anxiety spike only to burst into laughter. “Classic Jake. At this rate, you might end up marrying your bike,” Quil teased and Jacob laughed along, though he desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“Just take it easy, yeah ? We don’t want you passing out on us again. By the way, there's a sale at the store on the other side of town,” Embry squeezed Jacob’s shoulder reassuringly again. The familiarity they seemed to share with him was comforting, even if he felt like an imposter. He knew he had to get up to speed quickly if he wanted to maintain this facade. They soon parted ways and Jacob headed towards the store.

The store lady was overly enthusiastic upon seeing Jacob. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his face or the fact that he was a regular. As Jason, he had always been below average in looks and physique. Whereas, by the virtue of being the second male lead of a popular teenage romance novel, Jacob Black was undeniably attractive. With his deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful long hair, he looked like someone Jason would have envied. Maybe he could try his hand at modeling once the story ended, because there was no way he was putting himself through college again.

And as unpredictable as the weather of Forks was, it began to rain. Normally, Jason would wait it out and then go but now that he as in Jacob’s body, he thought to test his body’s limits. Like c’mon a little drizzle isn’t going to hurt a big strong werewolf alpha-to-be. He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool droplets on his skin. It was refreshing, almost invigorating. Jacob’s body seemed to handle the cold and wet far better than Jason’s ever did. As he made his way back the store, he noticed people giving him friendly nods and waves. It felt strange to be acknowledged so warmly, a stark contrast to the anonymity he was used to.

At the red light he stopped, waiting for it to turn green. Sure, there were no cars around and he could have just walked, but road rules were no joke. He liked this life too much to risk having it taken away by truck-kun. “Hey system, is double isekai a thing?” he asked. The system didn’t reply, so that was probably a no.

Jacob glanced to his side and saw a person standing under a large black umbrella. A strong sweet scent pricked his nose. How strong does this guy’s cologne have to be to reach me even with the rain ? There was a name tag hovering above the person’s head, but it was obscured by the umbrella, as was his face. One thing he had learned was that only people relevant to the story had name tags over their heads, which meant this person was a character in the story. He looked down at the stranger’s hand—it looked like porcelain.

Jacob felt a sense of foreboding, creeping up his veins. His instincts were on high alert, telling him that this stranger was no ordinary person. The rain began to pour harder, each drop bouncing off the asphalt with increasing intensity.

The person probably noticed Jacob staring and as he did, the umbrella tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, almost ethereal face with piercing golden eyes. The moment their gazes met, Jacob was momentarily blinded by a brilliant golden aura radiating from the name tag above the person’s head.

[Edward Cullen]

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, it had to be Edward. What were the odds of encountering your favorite character on the very first day of your new life ? He felt his knees weaken. Despite the dim lighting and gloomy setting, Edward was undeniably striking. The rain seemed to fall more slowly around him, as if even the weather was reluctant to mar his flawlessness . His tousled bronze hair framed his face perfectly and Jacob felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. Despite all his criticisms of the novel, Edward had always held a special place in his heart for reasons Jacob couldn’t quite explain.

Damn, this mf looks anemic as hell. Maybe I should feed him. It was a half-serious thought, borne from both concern and his internal struggle to reconcile his feelings towards the character with the reality of his situation.

[OOC WARNING! OOC WARNING!]

[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]

“Fuck off, he’s my babygirl,”Jacob shot a mental retort at the system in exasperation and a streak of protectiveness. The system’s declaration that Edward was an enemy wasn’t misplaced given Jacob’s role in the novel but that didn’t mean it wasn’t at odds with his feelings.

Edward had always been his favorite character, a source of fascination and admiration. This was supposed to be his chance to explore and perhaps even improve upon the narrative, not to be embroiled in conflict with a character he held dear.

Jacob didn't even notice when the light turned green and Edward started walking away, his steps soundless on the wet pavement. Acting on impulse or perhaps some hidden desire, Jacob found himself walking towards Edward and grabbing his elbow, accidentally knocking his umbrella aside. Edward stopped and turned to him as the rain continued to soak them both. His gaze was like a sharp, unyielding beam of light, cutting through the rain. His eyes, an unusual shade of golden amber, held a depth that seemed to pierce directly into Jacob's soul, scrutinizing every hidden corner of his being.

[OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC!]

[EDWARD CULLEN IS YOUR ENEMY]

I’m so stupid — I forgot completely. Jacob and Edward haven’t met yet. Maybe… maybe I can salvage this ? Be a dick and still be nice ? He definitely didn’t want to end up on Edward’s bad side, nor did he want to break the system’s rules. Annoying as it was, the system was what kept him alive. Though he’d never say it out loud, he was terrified at the thought of dying, again. The system’s constant reminders of their supposed enmity were starting to grate on him, but he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes. What was a man to do when every choice seemed fraught with peril ?

Ack — he’s staring. Can he hear my thoughts ? I hope not. He and Bella meet soon, if I remember correctly so— Jacob’s anxiety skyrocketed under the weight of that gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat drumming in his ears. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach and whether it was the rain or not, he could feel cold sweat forming on his palms. He needed to say something—anything—that wouldn’t completely derail the plot but also wouldn’t make Edward hate him from the start, even if it was inevitable.

“Oh uh — my bad, dude. I just thought you looked kinda sick so I thought — I mean,” Jacob scrambled for an explanation, forcing a nonchalant tone as he released Edward’s elbow. He felt like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, desperately searching for a way to escape unscathed.

“—Uh, here.” He shoved the raw steak he had just bought into Edward’s arms. The system fell silent for a moment, as stunned by his actions as Jacob was. The sound of the rain was almost deafening as awkward silence stretched between them. Edward looked down at the raw steak in his hands, confusion and surprise painting his features.

Without waiting for a reply, Jacob quickly turned on his heel and hurried away, his footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. “Later ! Get that iron up and be the lady killer you were born to be !” he called over his shoulder. After walking a few metres, he paused briefly and added,“ And seriously lay off the sauvage man !”

As he put more distance between them, Jacob’s thoughts began to spiral. What had he just done ? Did Edward think he was completely nuts ? Or worse, could Edward have read his thoughts and seen through his facade ? Jacob shuddered at the possibility.

[Why did you do that ?]

“I don’t know okay !? I thought it’d help with looking y’know less dead when he meets Bella.” He shrugged. Explaining himself to the system felt pointless considering it was neither his parent nor his babysitter. The system remained silent, as if considering his response, Jacob rolled his eyes.

[OOC ! -20 B points ↓ ↓ ↓]

“Oh come on !”

“Still staring at that bag of steak, Ed ?” The pixie-haired woman leaned over her brother’s shoulder, teasing him.

“Go away, Alice,” Edward muttered, his gaze still locked on the steak as if it held some profound answers of the universe. His fingers occasionally running over the plastic, making the blood inside to squelch against the surface.

“Seriously what’s up with you ?” Alice frowned, dropping the banter. Ever since Edward had returned, he’d been fixated on this bag of steak that suspiciously smelled like wet dog. What was even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn’t had any visions of this event. Normally, Alice caught glimpses of all the interesting things happening with her family throughout the day but she had no clue how Edward had ended up with that steak. And from the look on his face, Edward didn’t look like he was divulging anything either.

“Nothing just… trying to figure someone out.” Edward sighed. Alice was his favorite family member, and he seldom told her off but this was something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. If he told Alice, she’d likely blow the whole thing out of proportion. But despite everything, one question kept lingering in his mind.

Who was that man ?

A.n - should I make this into a series ? If yes please lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist.

#jacob black’s self saving system #jbsss #scum villian self saving system #scumbag system #scum villain #twilight #jacob black #bella swan #edward cullen #luo binghe #shen quingqiu #svsss #mxtx svsss #mxtx #ducky if you’re seeing this just know I owe you my life and firstborn

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iwritesinsnottragedieshoney · 1 year ago

Text

litty swimsuit (spencer reid)

paring: spencer reid x reader

summary: the team vacations at rossi's summer residence while spencer reid deals with insecurities, emotions beyond his control, and a y/n litty swimsuit.

genre: i guess fluff, but towards the end it changes into the beginning of smut, but nothing serious, actually.

warnings: spencer being a little insecure; one or two curses; some sexually tinged comments; maybe some spicy scenes at the end, but, like i said before, nothing hard; a lot of use of the phrase "frown".

word count: 11, 631

notes: this is the first time i post anything here and the first time i write something about spencer so i hope i didn't screw things up. english is also not my first language, some words may be used incorrectly just because the translator thinks it's a synonym and i believe him, so… have fun :) (every pic is from pinterest, i don't own them).

spencer walked out through rossi's glass door, his nostrils filled with the unmistakable smell of chlorine, mixed with a hint of summer afternoon and sunscreen.

the sun was in its full stage and he frowned slightly at the thought of the impact of sunlight on the human body and the consequences of the time spent outside then — he focused mainly on the negative ones, because they came to his mind the fastest. but he immediately pushed them away, frowning even harder. aside from forgetting his sunglasses from his room, he remembered what morgan had told him when they arrived at rossi's summer house: you need to chill out a bit, man. look, a whole week off work and a whole week with y/n in a swimsuit! she told emily it's litty.

spencer didn't understand a few things at the time, and unfortunately for him, they were all centered around y/n.

first of all, he had no desire to chill out a bit and didn't look like he was going to be able to do that anytime soon. two weeks ago there was a chance for a vacation for the whole team. someone (emily) discreetly remarked (gathered everyone in the check-in room thanks to garcia who sent everyone a flashing, unlockable message to the work computers) that it would be nice to spend time at rossi's summer residence at that time, which he readily agreed to (not really, but everyone had time to nod their heads appreciatively over garcia's presentation, where she presented the arguments for and rossi was bribed with the idea of themed Italian evenings).

spencer obviously didn't mind spending time with the team. apart from them, he didn't really have any other friends, and his mother was going to be involved in activities that would conflict with his possible visit, so he had no plans. he even lifted the corners of his mouth for a brief moment. that subsided, however, when the travel talks began a few days later, and y/n elbowed him lightly in the ribs and said she had a bunch of light and silly romances ready so she could read one a day, which is pretty much like as if they were reading at the same pace. then he realized that if he spent a whole week with the team, he'd spend it with y/n as well, and his stress-adrenaline spiked so high he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying to his desk at the time.

it's not like he didn't like y/n. because he liked. actually, very much so. derek said he's totally head over heels.

and guess that was the problem.

when y/n joined the team, which happened exactly six months, eight days, twenty-one hours and thirty-two minutes ago, she totally turned his head, as penelope said. she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met, and her smiles were either very wide or delightfully stretchy (these were spencer's favourites, because then there were tiny wrinkles around her eyes and her cheeks were slightly pink), and when she greeted meeting him for the first time, she raised her hand in an awkward greeting at the same time he did, then laughed out loud before finally saying her name with the smile still on her face.

he wasn't sure if he was just imagining it, and he didn't even want to check if it was, but he felt that y/n had become a very good friend to him. someone who listened to what he had read last time in a new science article that appeared in a kiosk outside his block and didn't roll his eyes; someone who showed up with coffee and a donut when he was having a bad day; someone who used to come to his hotel room when things were done with chinese takeout to watch documentaries on TV; someone who played cards with him (even if y/n made up her own rules that were often meant to win only her); someone who eventually became more than just a good friend to him.

he couldn't even tell when he wished they were more. all he knew was that there was no chance of any change in that direction between them. girls like y/n weren't interested in guys like spencer, he knew it. he didn't want his stupid feelings to end. he liked the fact that y/n was somehow close, and if only she knew how he felt about her, he wouldn't have survived the humiliation of rejection.

anyway, when spencer realized that y/n would also be joining them on the trip, he panicked slightly. since she'd joined the team, they'd only spent time together at work and on field case, and that made their relationship somewhat limited (reason infinite why spencer thought maybe even their friendship was a bit forced). spencer would never have dared to offer her anything else because she might think he was asking her out (he hadn't asked derek yet, but he was pretty sure going to a museum to see the remains of a newly found tomb didn't count as a date, but he preferred not risk), and then she would surely refuse, which is why they did not meet outside of work. unless it was about going out to bars with the team.

y/n never proposed anything either (derek said it was because spencer wasn't giving her enough indication of his interest in such a proposal, but spencer thought being neutral about everything about y/n was safe and a chance to be too pushy), so spencer only confirmed his conviction. he was destined to be friend.

however, he began to have merciless thoughts about the possible end of their relationship, precisely because of the vacation trip to rossi's summer estate. eventually y/n will have to realize that spencer is actually incredibly boring, and his habits, behaviors, and interests are not at all caused by the situations that another case puts in their way. he will understand that spencer watches TV documentaries not because there is nothing more interesting on the hotel TV, but because he likes to do it. after all, no one willingly watches television documentaries! everyone knows it!

and on the one hand he knew that these thoughts were irrational rather than worth considering, but on the other hand he watched his surroundings for any signs that might prepare him for an imminent farewell to the warm feeling he felt inside when y/n appeared on the horizon.

spencer was sure that there were plenty of other things that y/n could find out about him during the trip and lose interest in him even at the level of work colleagues, so from the beginning of the trip he tried not to drive the stress reel and didn't think about it anymore, and it was either better or worse.

the other thing he didn't understand about derek was the y/n litty swimsuit. to be honest, spencer wasn't very interested in the y/n swimsuit until derek mentioned it. he didn't even combine the trip with swimsuits. but now he was definitely interested in it, and he was horrified that he was beginning to think of his co-worker and best friend in that context. he tried not to imagine it too often, but his thoughts involuntarily wandered in that direction when they were filling out reports at the office a day or two before, when he was in the shower, when he was going to bed, and when they were on the plane here. so, well, he wasn't doing very well.

but back to when he left rossi's house for his backyard swimming pool — derek was right, he needed to chill out a bit.

the swimming pool was rectangular in shape and was crossed by a volleyball net; on one side were hotch and morgan, and on the other side, emily and jj, who were clearly already engaged in the game for good, as the cheers directed at the men indicated victory and their considerable excitement. reid remembered derek's words again and refrained from telling them about the dangers of exerting himself in a place that was so exposed to the sun's rays. chill out a bit.

he descended the small steps to the stone path that flanked the pool, only guessing how hot the slabs of stone could get under his slipper-protected feet. he noticed that rossi, who was doing a crossword puzzle, was sitting at a table covered with a red umbrella, and probably wouldn't look up even if an african elephant ran in front of him. morgan's words rang again in spencer's ears, and he didn't stop to look over the man's shoulder and solve a few passwords. chill out a bit.

so reid walked on, toward white, comfortable-looking loungers. they were tucked away in the shade, far enough away that the noises coming from the pool wouldn't be annoying and that their distance wouldn't seem exaggerated. on one of them was penelope, holding a glass of iced coffee in one hand and a kindle in the other, which she was staring at intently.

spencer looked around discreetly, but saw no y/n anywhere. he knew she was the first to leave the house — at six o'clock in the morning he wasn't awake enough to get up, but he heard her soft footsteps down the hall and the slam of the front door. he didn't know where she was, but when he opened his eyes again, the whole team was downstairs, discussing something quite loudly. it was early afternoon now, and spencer was angry with himself for not being able to get up early enough. he felt as if he didn't know as much as the others. as if he missed something.

he sat down precariously on one of the deckchairs, the one closest to penelope's, and gripped the leather-bound book he'd brought with him a little tighter. he ordered it from his local bookstore a month ago, and the delivery difficulties only made him want to devour it whole, but now, when y/n wasn't around, he somehow didn't feel like opening it. he involuntarily looked towards the garden, remembering that when they arrived three days ago, y/n had disappeared there for a good hour. maybe she went to see that little pond she'd been telling him about...

"what are you looking for?" garcia's suspicious voice reached his ears, and he immediately felt a treacherous blush rise to his cheeks. "or rather, for whom."

she added the last one with a noticeable smirk in her voice, as if she knew the answer to her question all along, and spencer wouldn't be surprised if she really did.

he looked at her, still slightly surprised by her unexpected remark; the blonde lifted her sunglasses so that they rested on top of her head, her fingers gently, almost soundlessly, tapping the kindle's surface.

he noticed that her nails were painted a dark blood red. just like emily wore. and jj. probably similar to y/n. apparently it was the result of their ladies' night last night, which had dragged on until one in the morning, which spencer knew because there was a wall between his and emily's room that was thin enough for him to hear music and laughter coming from the room. that was the main reason why he got up later than the others today.

"i don't..." he began, but before he could somehow prevent a minor annoyance that would surely have lasted into the evening, the patio doors slid open and shut just as forcefully.

spencer looked over at them, frowning at the glare of the sun.

y/n trotted hurriedly towards them, her thick-soled flip-flops making a distinctive sound with each step she took. she was wearing a slightly tight, ankle-length skirt of mesh material with a lining and a light green tank top with thin straps. in her hand was a shopping bag, which she placed between spencer's and garcia's sun loungers. her chest was rising and falling at a rhythmic but not too fast pace, which indicated she was in a hurry.

“i will never go back there again,” she declared, plopping down on the lounger where spencer was sitting. she was clearly addressing penelope, but a second later she was elbowing him in the shoulder. "where have you been all morning? the vacation book club meeting must have started without you, though i swear i fought like a lioness."

even if she wasn't quite close, he could smell her cherry mist, and when he looked a little closer, he noticed that thin strings of a bikini trailed up from underneath the tank top and tied in a bow shape at the nape of the neck. chill out a bit.

"i overslept," he stammered, wishing he was someone with a better explanation.

"oh no, is it us?" y/n looked genuinely worried. „jj and i tried to turn the music down but emily was adamant. and then we went a bit too far with the alcohol and music was the last thing on our minds."

"no, i... forgot to set my alarm clock." thought up on the spur of the moment, but y/n tilted her head slightly doubtfully.

she didn't comment on it, though, because her attention was drawn to penelope, who until then had been interested mainly in the lines of text on her kindle, now clutched it tightly to her chest and, her lips parted in excitement, leaned towards y/n.

"did it work? does the red nail theory work? answer, woman!" her eyelids were wide open and her pale cheeks flushed a little pink.

"what is the red nail theory?" spencer asked, frowning again, this time in confusion.

he was used to the fact that he didn't know much about currently pop culture and usually had to get information from team members or search the internet himself. he did it a bit more often lately, because y/n would run into the office from time to time and tell him in an emotional voice about the latest happenings in the world of celebrities that he had no idea about. but if y/n was interested, he wanted to, if only so he wouldn't stand there stock-still and nod his head in an attempt to understand.

"oh, it's such a stupid notion that if you paint your nails red, guys will stick to you like flies," she replied, as always without impatience, waving her hand dismissively, which only underlined her attitude towards the matter. spencer, however, saw the red on her fingernails.

“it's widely believed that the color red symbolizes passion, desire and, of course, love. a survey was conducted which revealed that…” spencer began, unable to resist sharing this information with her; he stopped, however, when penelope waved a kindle in front of his nose, as if to chase away a persistent insect.

"y/n! did mark make a move?!”

"who is mark?"

in his defense, it had slipped out faster than he had time to think. the tone in which garcia's question was uttered indicated that mark had already been the subject of conversations and was obviously known to someone other than y/n. that in turn meant (spencer unintentionally connected the assumption with his own suspicions) that y/n was romantically interested in someone, and probably someone — how could not — reciprocated. especially since the woman's cheeks had turned slightly pink.

spencer felt his stomach turn inside out; never thought he had any chance with y/n, but sometimes it was nice to daydream a bit. but now those dreams had become almost utopian, though earlier, he liked to tell himself, they had been possible if he hadn't been such a coward and had perhaps agreed to go to the gym with morgan.

“he's a clerk in that little shop we passed on our way here. remember, the one with the white wooden sign and the blue lettering. anyway, penelope thinks he's a muffin ready to munch, which i guess means he's relatively attractive," y/n replied again, in the same tone as before; this time, however, she didn't wave her hand, but ostentatiously rolled her eyes.

"hello? when will it be time to answer my questions?” the blonde got impatient and slid her legs off the lounger and seemed ready to pin y/n to the ground and force all the answers out of her.

y/n smiled softly (apparently the danger in garcia's eyes was no problem for her) and bent down to reach for the shopping bag at her feet. she was clearly looking for something and was knocking over the rest of her purchases as she did so, but she took her time to answer penelope.

"i'm not sure about that theory, pen. i bought you a couple of canned sodas and some magazines from the display at the back of the store, and mark was mostly looking at my boobs, not my nails. this confirmed what i had always thought of him — that he is quite a jerk. i don't know, girls, maybe you should be interested in someone valuable."

spencer lifted the corner of his mouth, the one that the others couldn't see; he didn't know the whole mark, but enjoyed the way y/n thought of him. he just didn't know who he was. he liked to think he wasn't a jerk, but he wasn't sure he was valuable either. he was curious if there was anything in between.

“this is not some husband contest, y/n. it's our carefully crafted hot girls summer," penelope reminded her, and this time she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

reid refrained from asking another question.

“then i'm afraid our hot girls summers are quite different,” y/n replied, finally pulling a few magazines out of the plastic bag and stacking them neatly on her lap, frowning in concentration. “i bought rossi another crossword puzzle because i saw him finishing the one in the morning paper. jj and emily said they didn't need anything but i bought them a gossip magazine anyway. the only thing i didn't know was what to get hotch... anyway, penelope, i didn't spend a dime on you. it's for those stupid messages you've been sending me all morning! and for your information, my inner tigress didn't pounce on a couple of ribs."

penelope moaned martyrdom, throwing her head back and returning to her previous position, turning on her kindle again. y/n didn't seem too concerned about it, in fact, not at all, and turned around a bit to face spencer. her mouth stretched into that familiar excited smile, and her cheeks seemed to still be tinted with a soft pink as the woman proudly held out to him a sealed magazine with a dvd inside.

"dr. reid, here's the second part of the documentary we started watching during this case in baltimore." her tone was high, but spencer still sensed a hint of laughter in it. “on the way back i also saw a nice restaurant that delivers orders. it's not chinese, but i don't mind indian food. you like indian food, right? i can look for something else, i think i saw something at the end of the pier...

“indian food sounds nice, y/n,” spencer said reassuringly, giving her a small smile.

it all sounded nice. it was nice to think that y/n looked at the popular science section and thought of him; about wanting to watch a nature documentary with him and eat takeout. spencer didn't want to think otherwise, and even thought that maybe all his fears about leaving weren't very rational.

"oh god, i hope you guys gonna fuck while doing this or i'll drown you in the pool..." penelope's totally serious voice broke the smiling silence between them like a knife blade.

spencer made an indistinct noise, blushing to the tips of his ears while y/n seemed extremely angry.

“you know what, pen, i'd rather fuck spencer with a documentary on africa insects running in the background than go out with all that mark. i bet he's an indebted loser who doesn't even own a boat, which would be quite derogatory given the name his shop bears." hissed y/n.

spencer felt like he was shrinking with each passing second; y/n's hand and the magazine it held were digging into his chest, and penelope's eyes shone again with a dangerous glow, which together with the accusing finger was quite a disturbing sight.

"i see! so he invited you after all!” she exclaimed, and y/n dropped the magazine from her hand, which with a rustling sound fell to his lap and arranged her hands in such a way as if she wanted to strangle the blonde.

"yes, penelope!" y/n raised her voice. “he said something like maybe we can go out together or something and i said yeah, rather not, or something and immediately left the place. are you satisfied yet?”

penelope frowned a bit and sank back into the chair with a clearly disconsolate expression. she felt a little silly, just like y/n, who tried to straighten up a bit to give herself some dignity and brushed her skirt off her knee as if there were a few crumbs there, but they weren't.

"are you sure he was looking at your boobs and not your nails?" asked penelope after a moment.

"yes."

“well, then he is indeed a loser without a boat. pity. i liked his chin."

"oh, penelope," sighed y/n and smiled slightly as the blonde did the same.

y/n bent down again to put the magazines back in the plastic bag, and spencer moved his leg slightly, hoping the tense atmosphere had just ended. he didn't quite know what he could do if things got worse. he was also pleased to hear about the reunion of mark and y/n. he hoped he'd gotten away with it and wouldn't try to be interested in her again, but at the same time he wondered what he'd do if he heard the y/n words himself. yeah, rather not, or something. it sounded like his personal hell.

"pretty girl is back!"

they looked towards the pool. morgan was walking toward them in red swimming trunks that went past his knees, arms wide open, the corner of his mouth raised dangerously. apparently the little volleyball match had just ended; hotch was disappearing inside rossi's house as jj and emily were slowly approaching them.

"so what? we are going to play the game?" morgan asked, aiming the words at the y/n.

for a brief moment, the woman's face showed surprise, but then her mouth curved into a mocking grimace.

"if i didn't know you, morgan, i'd think you liked being humiliated. sure we're playing, i just need to get changed." y/n got up from the lounger and, grabbing the shopping bag, headed for the patio doors. as she passed the morgan, she looked over her shoulder at him, whispering, "i'll destroy you."

"you wish, honey." derek snorted, but it was hard to tell if y/n had heard his words because she didn't react to them in any way.

you wish, honey. he wondered what reaction y/n would get if he called her that nickname. he wasn't very good with words and it would probably end up painfully awkward. spencer would like to be like morgan — smooth in conversation, which he was able to combine with his appearance. would like to talk to y/n per honey. or whatever y/n finds attractive.

spencer saw the woman stop by rossi and hand him a crossword puzzle book, and the man patted her hand, giving her a smile. he didn't even notice how it appeared on his face as well. y/n was good, generous and open-minded, and spencer knew he could count on her, and that other people important to him could count on her, too.

"come on reid, get ready." threw derek in his direction, waking him from his lethargy.

spencer looked at him with surprise and maybe a little fear in his eyes. after years of being near derek's desk, he was used to the little teases derek gave him — he understood that they were never intended to hurt him, and he usually brushed them off or tried to respond to them in a similar way. but he also knew that sometimes morgan couldn't keep his mouth shut, and he feared that derek's swashbuckling smirk had something to do with y/n. he didn't know what it was yet, but he sure had it.

at the same time, emily and jj also appeared, sitting together on the deckchair on the other side of penelope and smiling at them, clearly tired.

"morgan, haven't you had enough? i wouldn't mess with y/n, she's pretty good at this stuf," emily muttered, scratching her ankle. "if i were you, i wouldn't pick myself up after a second failure."

"oh yeah, she took extra classes when she was in high school." jj supported her, nodding her head.

"oh please. i gave you a head start. like the gentleman i am." derek leaned forward with his hand on his chest, and they shook their heads in amusement.

spencer was about to ask what exactly it was about when the patio doors slid open again. automatically he looked towards the terrace and involuntarily parted his lips.

for a brief moment he thought he couldn't make any sound, let alone understandable and logical words. he didn't know what made him more emotional — how pretty y/n's face looked in the two braids that were now bouncing gently with her steps, or maybe the fact that her swimsuit was really litty and even spencer's mind wasn't in the mood could prepare him for how amazing she could look in it.

it was a two-piece, bottle green. spencer could see the bindings that held the top of the suit together — the ones at the nape of his neck (which he had seen before) and moments ago when she had her back to him for two seconds, closing the door behind her, also the one on her back. in addition, on both sides of her hips there were similar, but indetachable, decorative strings.

despite his sincere wish not to think too much of her in that particular sinful way, he had to refrain from imagining a moment when he would be allowed to pull either of them.

“i was just telling a pretty boy to get ready to kick his ass,” morgan said as y/n stopped in front of them.

"you didn't mention any kicking my ass and i still don't know what you mean," spencer replied, then frowned as penelope put in something from her kindle about how she liked it when he said ass.

"oh yes." y/n grabbed the end of one of the braids and gave him an apologetic look. “so a month ago morgan saw my volleyball medals while he was helping me redecorate my bedroom and said we absolutely had to go against him because he thinks he’s totally rocking.”

"because i rock."

"anyway, this morning while you were still sleeping, i got a little competitive and got you involved too." she sounded like she was genuinely sorry, but when her gaze met derek, her tone changed completely. "so you better stretch yourself morgan or we're going to crush you completely!"

y/n shot both of her index fingers at derek, and he laughed out loud and walked off towards the pool, where the woman's narrowed eyes led him.

spencer swallowed hard and clenched his hands again on the cover of his book. it was a real disaster unfolding to the cheers of the girls as y/n started her warm-up with feigned zeal.

subconsciously, he knew that he wasn't some important part of this two-man team — y/n clearly had no plans to involve him in the game beforehand, and it probably came about as a result of everyone's familiar scuffles between her and derek. yet he felt his stomach turn inside out again as he thought about the fact that he would have to take part in a game in which he was hopeless in front of everyone else.

"y/n." the woman looked at him, with a determined expression on her face, although a moment ago she had just been training her menacing gaze under the supervision of emily, whose role of focused trainer was not going very well. "can we talk somewhere else?"

"sorry girls, we have to talk about our super tactics"

they walked to the opposite end of the pool, hearing the excited voices of the girls behind them, who were just in the process of coming up with cheering slogans. spencer felt even worse when he thought that apparently most of the team knew about the planned showdown between y/n and derek and were looking forward to it.

"the thing is, i hit in your direction and you take straight to his half and so twenty-five times..."

"y/n, i'm not good at volleyball. actually, i'm not good at any sport that requires physical exertion." he confessed, reluctantly interrupting her.

for a nanosecond, y/n's enthusiasm waned a bit, but then she frowned, confused.

"what are you talking about? i'm sure you're great. besides, you're tall!" she remarked, sending him a smile and shrugging.

"and what about it?"

"all volleyball players are tall." she shrugged again, and spencer sighed softly.

then y/n turned serious and placed her hands on his thin shoulders. even though her hands were only touching him through the gray cotton t-shirt he was wearing, spencer felt the tips of his ears turn red gradually.

the team knew about his reluctance to have close physical contact, and spencer made sure that all new people he met were also informed. he knew penelope had told y/n about it before the woman noticed him sitting at his desk, and he was grateful to her that he had missed this awkward conversation. however, spencer quickly realized that he actually doesn't mind physical contact as long as the person he's having it with is y/n.

her acts of kindness and friendship drew him into his terrible crush with each working day, and made him more and more aware of the need for her touch. he had even unconsciously searched for it, provoking occasions for his fingertips to touch hers, to pass documents, for her arm to brush against his as they walked down the not-too-wide corridor to the briefing room, and for his hand to be within reach, when one day the plugs in the office went out and it became completely dark.

he naively thought he was being discreet about it — but the team quickly noticed his lack of aversion to her touch and made jokes about it. spencer hoped that their remarks didn't reach y/n and that she didn't notice it herself — he was able to make do with whatever physical intimacy she unwittingly gave him.

however, he realized that y/n arranged the touch herself, almost on the same level as she maintained with the rest of the team.

now she was staring deep into his eyes, and reid hoped the red didn't spread to his cheeks as well.

"listen to me, spencer. i won't say it's just for fun because i'm fucking desperate to win and i'm not going to give morgan the satisfaction, but i will say that i believe your volleyball player is deep inside of you and just needs a gentle push to bring him to the surface," she whispered, which made spencer look pained.

"i'm afraid he's already there. he's floating, more precisely. because he's dead."

"you see? it's not so bad if you still have your sense of humor," she laughed, patting his shoulder, but her laughter died away as she crossed arms over her chests, leaning towards him with a worried expression. he tried not to show the disappointment of losing her hand on his body. "spencer, i can tell derek you don't want to play. i know i should have asked you first."

"what's going on there?! y/n, you can give up now!" derek leaned against the wall of his half of the field with a grin and waited for them to arrive.

they looked in his direction, but y/n quickly returned her gaze to spencer's face.

he knew that volleyball was not his strong suit. just as he knew the last thing he wanted was to humiliate himself in front of the team and, of course, in front of y/n because of it. but he noticed how excited she was. and he didn't want her to lose the sparkle in her eyes he saw when she explained their rather unreal tactics to him.

"i'll do it," he decided at last, nodding his head a few times, just in case, to confirm himself in this decision.

y/n opened her mouth in surprise and grabbed his wrist as he started towards the pool, forcing him to meet her eyes again.

"spencer, if you really don't want to, you don't have to."

"yeah, but suddenly i felt like kicking morgan's ass," he replied, though he didn't really know if he wanted to. he wanted to give her what she wanted, of that he was sure.

y/n stared at him intently, probably searching for something to contradict his words, but reid made sure his expression was convincing enough. in the end, the girl lost the fight with a huge smile, and from her chest came an excited sound like a combination of a squeak and a giggle.

"i like it when you say ass too!" she said and stole a kiss on his cheek, immediately turning on her heel and stepping into the pool.

spencer turned crimson and involuntarily raised his hand to touch his fingertips to the place where the muted pink y/n lips touched his skin. chill out a bit.

as he had predicted, he was not doing very well. emily, jj and penelope moved the sunbeds a little closer to the pool for a better view and started cheering for their team right from the start, which only distracted spencer and put even more pressure on him.

in addition, although he had suspected it for a long time, but now he was convinced of it, y/n, despite the whole package of good qualities, also had some worse ones, such as an unhealthy desire to compete and a need to be the best.

things seemed pretty stable at first — y/n let morgan go surfing first, definitely determined to win. she hit the first few throws and then ended them with a strong knockout of the ball that sprayed the water, announcing their first point. actually because of her, but y/n held up her hands for a high five as if it was a joint effort.

then there was a slight complication as derek hit the ball towards him, which spencer didn't expect at all and his bounce was too light for the ball to go over the net. y/n reassured him that everything was fine and kept playing, but spencer felt like the worst person in the world, especially since emily moaned in agony, even though that was only the first point lost (she had already taken another sip of something lemon yellow, but it wasn't lemonade and she was getting a little cranky).

y/n quickly rebounded and gained the upper hand, and spencer even managed to hit the ball a few times without sending it to the net or out of the water court. but eventually the losing streak came back and they lost points again, and a crease appeared between y/n's eyebrows that made spencer nervous.

it was twenty-two to nineteen for morgan, and the man had already indulged in a few snide comments. y/n with obvious impatience somehow made the ball finally hit the water on morgan's side and passed the ball to spencer with a serious expression.

reid liked it a lot better when he wasn't closer to the pool walls, and didn't get a few stressful stares on his shoulders while he was surfing, especially since he'd hit the ball out of court way too often. in addition, now he was sure that if he repeated it, he would hear a martyrdom moan not from emily's lips, but from y/n. then he would allow himself a small humiliating drowning.

he sighed softly, rolling the ball over in his hand. the kids at his school bounced it hard on the floor to give it a better bounce. spencer couldn't do that now, and he wasn't really sure if the tactic worked. every time he was in this place, he thought about how what he was best at would help him. however, there was not enough time to mess with physics.

he hit the ball down, grimacing, just in case.

however, contrary to his expectations, the ball went over the net and began to fall within the pool area, not on the stone path outside it.

out of the corner of his eye, he saw the corner of y/n's mouth twitch slightly upwards. the ends of her braids were wet with chlorinated water and dripping drops; spencer, wanting to preserve what little dignity he had, held back with all his might lest his gaze fall a little lower, where the drops ran down her skin and into the hollow between her breasts. he also judiciously ignored the fact that the soaked fabric of her bikini clung to her body, which seemed to reflect the sun's rays and seemed to glisten slightly. plus, her…

he couldn't say exactly what had happened, but he knew that one moment he was watching the y/n body moving in slow motion, and the next he was bended in half, feeling a dizzying, sharp pain shoot through his head. he remembered holding his hands to his face, feeling his nose twitch as still as a cartoon character who had just rung a big bell, and there was sudden chaos around him; several voices rose in surprise, someone close to him shouted his name, and the water around him surged, pushing him against the pool wall. he also felt something drip onto his fingers.

"god, spencer!" delicate, wet yet warm hands brushed uncertainly over his still veiled face, and spencer recognized the terrified y/n in that voice.

"dude, now you've got nothing left!"

"seriously, derek?!" y/n was furious, but when she turned to him again, her voice was soft but still nervous. "spencer, look at me. everything's all right?! pass the towel! rossi, go get the keys, we're going to the hospital! may be broken!"

the nose wasn't broken. which spencer knew as soon as he managed to get his questions answered from the panic-stricken team. no one noticed the swelling, and no hematomas appeared under his eyes; the profuse bleeding that y/n was trying to stop with more and more tissues, and the pain he felt didn't have to be signs of a fracture, though they could. the team wasn't going to take his word for it anyway, and hotch, though the most composed of the group, was firmly pressing on the accelerator.

spencer, apart from feeling like everything was spinning around him from time to time, he felt a bit overwhelmed; there was too much noise around him — his friends were arguing about who was to blame for his accident, y/n had her hand over his face (although he assured her he could still hold a few tissues) and was squeezing his hand tight, increasing the pressure when she was responding to morgan.

when they got to the hospital, and the doctor finally treated their panicked group, he only confirmed what spencer had suspected all along. he didn't even have a concussion, and this disturbingly profuse hemorrhage was caused by the rupture of a larger vessel. recommended ice packs and rest. something spencer could prescribe for himself.

they back to rossi's house in a slightly less nervous mood, though y/n didn't speak to derek, who had repeatedly apologized not only to spencer but also to her. y/n, however, seemed adamant and still preoccupied with the situation. spencer suspected she felt guilty because she had talked him into it, after all, though he had mentioned to her once or twice that it was nothing and that all symptoms would be gone by tonight.

as they crossed the threshold of the house, three waiting heads appeared from behind the living room wall, and again there was a din of explaining everything to the rest of the team, who had to stay because of emily's tip. spencer finally managed to get out of their company and quickly disappeared into his room before anyone noticed him.

from that moment on, two hours passed, which spencer spent lying motionless with an ice pack against his face. he stared at the ceiling and multiplied every now and then the number of panels on the floor. there was an eerie silence downstairs, and spencer wondered if everything was all right down there.

he was about to decide to get out of bed and go downstairs when there were two single knocks against his door. he called the person inside, and after a while a y/n head appeared.

"i have a bowl for your used ice pack and your book you left on the sun lounger," she said softly, smiling, seemingly slightly confused.

"come in," he replied, just as quietly, though there was no reason for them to communicate that way.

the previously awkward y/n grimace turned into her beautiful smile as she slipped inside, closing the door behind her. she was clutching his book to her chest and in the other hand she was holding the purple plastic bowl spencer had seen in the kitchen cupboard this morning.

he involuntarily smiled as he thought of how y/n reminded him of a small child who had just managed to sneak into a friend's room despite the watchful eyes of his parents — she jumped on his bed, then sat cross-legged and sighed heavily as spencer pulled the compress away from his face, to put it in the bowl.

"is it that bad?" he joked, raising his eyebrows to which y/n snorted mockingly.

"you don't even know how much. you look exactly the same!” she laughed as she placed the bowl with compress on the bedside table by spencer's bed. to do so, she had to lean over him, and this time the scent of her floral shampoo and mango lotion filled his nostrils; she must have taken a shower afterwards because he couldn't smell the chlorine on her. however, when y/n returned to her seat, her expression became a little more serious. "how do you feel? i know everyone asked you this way too many times already, but i'm really worried."

"much better. i think i've stopped feeling that throbbing pain, although that may just be because of the ice," he replied, smiling slightly. "and hey, you don't have to worry so much about it. i already told you it's okay and it's not your fault."

"yeah, but still. i don't know what we'd do if you slashed that pretty face."

spencer frowned as if he disliked her words, but y/n just laughed again. in fact, he had already wondered a few times if the fact that y/n called him pretty boy, like morgan, meant anything at all. a large number of voices in his head said that this was just another habit that the girl had picked up from derek, as she had done in the case of throwing balls of paper into the garbage cans. however, there was a part that made spencer's cheeks a little pink when he heard those words come out of her mouth. sometimes hearing it from her was completely different than hearing it from anyone else.

"yeah, morgan has already pointed that out," he said finally, feeling it had to be done.

it seems like y/n was just waiting for spencer to mention morgan because she suddenly gasped and jumped up on the mattress, frowning.

“you know, i was joking now, but it really pissed me off at the time! i was terrified because i had never seen so much blood while doing anything other than catching serial killers, and i thought it could end up much worse than a broken nose. and derek didn't care at all!" y/n's hands engaged the aggressive gesticulation mode that appeared on the horizon when she was really high. "i was so furious with him! and his irritating taunts on the way to the hospital!”

"what taunts?" he asked, confused.

of course he was aware that y/n and morgan had spent the entire drive to the hospital arguing, with garcia joining in from time to time, now trying to get them to agree, now putting in her two cents as if she couldn't hold back any longer. at the time, however, he was too preoccupied with his bleeding nose and maybe a little y/n touch as well to notice what exactly their heated discussion was about.

"never mind, suitably stupid for his level," y/n grunted, blushing unexpectedly and tucking her hair behind her ear, though not a strand fell to her cheek. “anyway, i had a bit of an argument with him, and now i feel a little guilty about him because, i have to admit, i went a bit too far. but i won't apologize to him so he doesn't think about it too much."

"but you'll reconcile, won't you? it would be a bit awkward if you won't," he murmured, partly to her, partly to himself.

before y/n could answer, however, the door swung open timidly after three hasty knocks. derek morgan's head looked inside, as if the man was well aware that they were talking about him and decided to intervene. however, there was a swashbuckling smile on his lips, the kind you couldn't be angry at.

"hey hey..." he crooned, smiling even wider. "how it's going?"

"how it should?" y/n answered the question with a question, annoyance evident in her voice. "he almost got a concussion."

"not at all," spencer interjected, but he was ignored by each of them.

"i'm sorry mom, it won't happened again," derek replied, making y/n utter an exasperated sigh. morgan walked in even though no one had actually invited him and approached them with a mysterious plastic bag in his hand. “penelope gave me a hint so i could think of a way to finally settle the conflict, and here it is: the chinese you obviously love. appreciate my efforts, pretty girl, they had to bring her from another town.”

"then i guess the thanks go to the supplier, mr. morgan," y/n noticed, and spencer saw that there was an amused sparkle behind the sternness of her gaze. the girl accepted the takeaway, much to morgan's satisfaction, and arranged it beside her. "nice of you. i stopped being mad at you about an hour and a half ago, but it's still cool."

morgan reached out to flick her nose and y/n slapped it, laughing loudly.

spencer, sitting with his legs stretched forward, leaned against the back of his wooden bed, watching their interaction. with displeasure he felt a nasty jealousy sprouting in his stomach; something about the sight of their casual touch, each of them knowing that this quarrel and the words that accompanied it had no meaning, made him almost see the green covering his fingers. and they had done it all right in front of him.

spencer laughed mentally. he was really pathetic — morgan and y/n were friends. and y/n still wasn't going to consider him, even if he got punched in the nose.

"oh, dude. i'd like to get punched in the nose too if it meant y/n would look after me," morgan sighed dreamily, turning to spencer, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"i'll take care of you too, morgan, if that's what you want. but before that, i'll give you a nose so we'll have one reason," y/n replied, causing the man to chuckle in an amused tone as he backed away towards the door.

"okay, i understand, i'm leaving now. have fun, kids," he said, then disappeared through the heavy door.

y/n shook her head, turning her body towards spencer. her silken hair, which had been braided since spencer had first laid eyes on her that afternoon, now fell over her shoulders, which were no longer covered by the t-shirt she had thrown on in a hurry as everyone ran around rossi's living room, occasionally catching spencer's shoulder, as if to reassure themselves that he was still standing there. she was wearing something a lot more elegant now, which belied spencer's idea that she had already showered. in that case, she'd already be wearing her yellow turtleneck pajamas, which spencer raised his eyebrows at the first time they had to share a room during the case.

instead of yellow turtles, reid saw a plain, rather thin, black shirt tucked into denim shorts. and it didn't look like a sleep suit. but actually spencer shouldn't be interested in that.

pushing those tactless thoughts away, he reached out for the plastic bag morgan had brought them.

it was filled with distinctive boxes, the sharp edges of which pushed the plastic bag apart, and the smell that wafted from them despite the paper reminded spencer of all those late nights spent with y/n in hotel rooms, during which the television was told by a weary voice about the life of individual species, and the woman was in the so close to him that her shoulder touched his. he only liked the smell for those memories.

y/n leaned over with interest to look at the bag as well. spencer realized after a short while that the girl's forehead was not far from his, and a little surprised by the sudden closeness, he lifted his head to look at her. y/n did the same, feeling his burning gaze on her and smiled softly without breaking eye contact.

for a brief moment, he felt as if there was absolutely nothing else around them. there were only y/e/c y/n irises, her lightly freckled nose that was to blame for the sun, and her pink lips. lips he would love to kiss. or even brush his own lips.

but before he opened it to say anything that might lead to that, his bedroom door groaned heavily, as it did when it was opened very slowly. they pulled away from each other almost immediately, turning their heads in their direction. spencer, for an irrational moment, even thought that hotch might be behind them, about to lead him out of his own room by the ear like a rascal of the worst kind. jesus, spencer, he reminded himself, you're a grown man. if you want to kiss a woman, you will.

however, it wasn't hotch's head that emerged from behind the door, but emily, who didn't seem as frisky as she had been a few hours ago. she eyed each of them and walked inside to the accompaniment of expectant silence from them.

"are you guys kissing?" she asked after a moment, an excited smile on her face as she tilted her head slightly.

"what? no!" spencer thought y/n seemed pretty flustered considering the fact that their faces were inches apart just moment ago and she was clearly trying to pretend that none of this had happened. well, nothing that spencer wasn't prepared for.

"say what you want. reid looks like a ripe tomato."

spencer choked on his own saliva, drawing the women's attention, and his hand immediately reached for the glass on his nightstand, which was half full of water.

"i-it's a compress." he wanted to somehow explain what his face looked like, but no one, including himself, seemed convinced (and the water had been standing here since last night and tasted bad).

"of course…"

"i thought you were going to look for a club," y/n put in a quick, drawing emily's attention back to her.

"because we're going. i just came to drop it off." emily held out a sealed magazine to her friend, in which reid recognized a nature documentary. "what a shame you're not going. it's always more fun with you."

"you'll be fine without me," she replied y/n, getting out of bed and walking over to the small TV set in the corner of the room. she sat down in front of the cabinet he was standing on and began unpacking the magazine with a concentrated frown. "thanks, emily. just don't overdo it this time, okay? you've already had a drink today."

"boredom!" the dark-haired woman dragged out the first syllable, grabbing the doorknob. "you talking like jj! i'm leaving before you infect me with your innocence!"

emily had indeed disappeared through the bedroom door, and after a while the sound of her heels could be heard as they left the floor in a hurry.

there was a silence in the room, one that y/n would surely describe as safely comfortable; such silences sometimes happened between them when they were filling out paperwork at their desks, sharing dried fruit (y/n loved dried apples, a fact spencer consciously remembered) when they were sitting side by side on the jet, sharing headphones because y/n wanted to show him her current musical obsession, or when they sat on the benches outside the office building during their lunch break and ate their breakfasts. they were good silences. and maybe that silence would be good too if spencer's brain wasn't working at full capacity. all the information he had gathered in the last dozen or so minutes was quite plausible.

"a penny for your thoughts, doctor," hummed y/n as she focused on pressing buttons on the rossi player; it was one of the more expensive ones, because it not only read vhs tapes, but also dvds. "i can hear them even from this distance."

"it's nothing, it's just... i wonder why you don't go out with girls," he replied after a moment's hesitation.

from his seat on the bed, he could see y/n's eyebrows frown a bit, but he wasn't sure if it was because of her ignorance about using the player or because of his words.

"i was about to go, i even let penelope rummage through my suitcase," she confessed. the player finally listened to her and slid out the dvd drive, where a disc with a nature documentary soon landed. “but i thought about the first day of our trip that i spent watching some action movie with morgan, and yesterday i got drunk with the girls. we miss each other a bit, don't you think? and today, when we finally did something together, you ended up in the hospital. so we'll lighten our spirits with some fun-facts about the insects of africa. how about that, doctor?"

spencer smiled weakly as y/n looked over her shoulder at him. now he felt even worse than when morgan had hit him with the volleyball — it all sounded to him as if y/n had decided to sacrifice a girls' night out of guilt and resentment for spending time with him.

“y/n, you should go out with the girls. it will probably be much more interesting than here with me,” he said finally, but as the words hung between them, he didn't feel any easier than he'd expected, and even harder. especially since y/n looked over her shoulder at him again, her brows heavily furrowed.

"you're kidding? i'd much rather eat chinese and watch a nature documentary with you than walk emily home drunk." she shook her head as if he had said the stupidest thing she had heard in a long time; the TV brightened up and showed the output page of the document. "by the way... we haven't watched anything together lately... i missed it."

"you miss it?" he stammered, perhaps a little too surprised in a voice judging by the way y/n was clearly confused, blushing.

“well, yes… i have the impression that this is our little tradition. you know, something that's only ours. i can't imagine morgan watching nature documents with us, because who would you whisper additional information into the ear first?” she asked, involuntarily laughing softly.

she got up off the floor, holding the remote in her right hand as she turned off the light with her left. the room went dark, and spencer swallowed hard, seeing the figure of y/n slowly approaching him, crouching by the nightstand to flick the light switch.

the light, dimmed by the lampshade, was a soft red that spread over the walls of the room. spencer felt like y/n had never looked so beautiful, and at the same time he felt the tension in the air.

"it's cool, i like it," whispered y/n, sitting tentatively on the edge of the mattress, near his hips. "but you've been acting weird lately and we stopped doing that."

"weird?" he repeated, frowning. god, he wanted so badly to place his hands behind her ear at that moment and pull her to him; he wanted the moment before emily came back.

“you stopped talking to me, starting conversations on your own and all. i felt like i was the only one trying. every time i walked into the room you and the team stopped talking and all eyes were on me. i don't need to be a profiler to know you were talking about me. but everyone said it wasn't about me, so i guess i let it go a bit and tried not to think about it too much, but it still wasn't the same between us." as she spoke, y/n kept her head down and didn't seem to want to look up at him. "i thought you'd come to my room when we had a case in chester like always, but you didn't. and not later either. and later too. and you acted like nothing happened. plus, it really annoyed me that you stared at me without saying a word, and when i asked what was going on, you said it was nothing, but then you did it again."

y/n jumped out of bed, crossing her arms over her chest. she also began pacing in a characteristic way, as if in thought. her eyes roamed all the furniture she could find, but finally fixed her gaze on him.

"okay, am i exaggerating? i feel like i kind of did, and now i've said all those things and i feel really stupid…”

"no!" spencer raised his voice a little more than was necessary. he sprang up from the mattress, tired of the thought that the woman might think that the matter they were discussing was not important to him. "i…"

"stay still, the doctor said you might get dizzy," y/n interrupted him as she approached him.

"i'm not dizzy," he replied, but y/n had already reached out to him, as if to gently push him towards the bed.

"lie down," she insisted, but without much thought spencer grabbed her hands and lowered them to the level of their hips.

"no, listen to me. i'm sorry i've been acting this way lately," he said, and when he finally realized he was holding y/n's hands firmly, he let go a bit, but not too much; so that he can still touch her warm skin. “i… i was avoiding you a bit because the whole trip was so stressful and i started thinking too much and it influenced my behavior, but…

"stressful? why?"

"because... it's so stupid." he ran his hand through his hair, but his dark strands fell over his forehead anyway; it made him even angrier. “the thing is, i realized we'd start spending time together outside of work, and then you'd see i'm the same spencer from the office when i'm not at the office. and then you'll realize what a boring person i am and you won't want to hang out with me anymore. and i... i like you, y/n. i like you so much that i'm afraid of losing you because of me."

y/n frowned worriedly, tilting her head slightly. for a brief moment she stared at a point on his shoulder, as if searching for the right words. spencer, on the other hand, was feeling more and more nauseous as it dawned on him that perhaps the words he'd used shouldn't have been spoken to his friends, even though they sneakily sounded appropriate.

"well..." y/n sighed, leading him back to the mattress where they sat next to each other. spencer anticipated the worst and was slowly starting to feel like the biggest fool. he had a big mouth and always talked too much, everyone told him so. "i guess it's good that you're still spencer from the office when you're out of the office, right? because i wouldn't want you to be anyone else."

he looked at her and the woman smiled softly, still holding his hand.

"and you're not boring and i can't believe you think that of yourself! you're the most interesting person i know," she assured. “you are the only person in my circle of friends with whom i can watch all the movies in the world, because there is a 99% chance that you will be able to translate dialogues for me fluently! and the only one who can read and summarize the book i forgot to read for my book club, and i didn't have to be an ignorant who doesn't know anything about "pride and prejudice."

“you got all the threads with mr. darcy mixed up anyway,” he reminded her, smiling at the memory.

"i know and that's why i don't go there anymore!" y/n laughed as well, her shoulders trembling slightly.

even now he could picture in his mind the moment y/n walked into the office, heading without thinking to his desk with an expression of pure horror and embarrassment. half laughing, half almost crying, she related to him a meeting of her book club she had started attending. she told him how she got everything mixed up and made a fool of herself in front of the young women. she also didn't hesitate to mention how she drank wine in large gulps until the end of the meeting, and yet she was the first to run out of katy's apartment.

he felt y/n squeeze his hand a little tighter and looked at it again. the nausea he was feeling subsided a bit and he even started laughing at his panicked fantasies — it was y/n; the kind, always natural, and generous y/n who could never think of him that way.

“look, i know who you are may seem boring to you, but to me, you're the coolest person i've ever met in my life. and the nicest. i still remember how you remembered my birthday when others forgot. and when you brought me soup when i was sick. and i had two soups, because my mother had already brought one. you remember all the little things i tell you. that i prefer coffee with caramel syrup over maple syrup. that in 7th grade i fell out of a tree and have a scar on my knee which i'd rather you forget because derek still teases me." their soft laughs echoed through the room again. "you're the best spencer.

"thanks," he whispered.

so that's what it was supposed to be. misunderstandings and inaccuracies are resolved, y/n will finally choose one of the options that were displayed on the screen of a small TV and spend the next hour side by side eating chilled food from a chinese restaurant. it wasn't something spencer would have hoped for if his earlier speech had been worded better, but something he expected when he said what he had to say. but that was fine. he learned to enjoy the little things.

but suddenly he felt y/n fingers under his chin, directing his gaze back to her face. they were so close it hurt.

"and you'll never lose me, spencer. you can't get rid of me that easily," she said, also in a whisper. "i'm like a venereal disease."

spencer frowned.

"it was a disgusting comparison."

"i know, sorry."

"y/n," he whispered, never taking his eyes off the deep hue of her irises that scanned his face.

"yeah?"

he swallowed once more, hoping that the remnants of courage didn't run down his esophagus as well. he wasn't sure and couldn't be, but maybe this was the moment he should have heeded morgan and penelope and emily and jj and rossi and hotch...

"when i said i like you, i meant that..."

"i know, spencer." y/n smiled softly, and spencer had the impression that her face was a little closer than it had been two seconds before. "and guess what... i like you too."

spencer cursed mentally and, sliding his hand into y/n's hair, pulled her even closer to him.

the kiss was a bit tentative at first, and a terrifying thought crossed his mind that perhaps he had been in too much of a hurry and had misread some of the signals — he had done that all too often, after all, and the y/n words might have had nothing to do with what he was saying, with what spencer thought they had. y/n, however, returned the kiss, giving it a new pace for it, tangling her fingers in his hair. then reid realized he had stopped thinking about anything.

all that mattered at that moment was the taste of y/n cherry lip gloss, her hands on his neck, and soon his arms and chest as she climbed onto his lap. spencer thought it was too much — her scent filled his nostrils, completely befuddled him, her hands craving for closeness tracing every curve of his body, making him dizzy — and at the same time he felt that he needed more.

he lifted the hand he'd been resting on the mattress and ran it over y/n's bare thigh, not sure if he was allowed to do it. her skin was smooth, warm and cool at the same time, and spencer wanted to know how other parts of her body felt. y/n smiled through the kiss, reaching for his wandering hand, which she then placed on her hip.

spencer took it a step further and moved her down her back to pull her closer to him. he wanted to be as close to her as possible, possibly even absorb himself into her, if that meant he would always feel the way he did now.

y/n moved her kisses to his cheek, jaw, and behind his ear, where she sucked his skin. spencer moaned softly, surprised, and the girl with a smile headed towards his neck, biting it with kisses.

"thank god penelope left the house," y/n mumbled into his skin, saying the words in between caresses. “she probably would have said her i knew it! or didn't i tell you?!"

spencer pulled back slightly, mouth parting speechless. he remembered perfectly well what penelope had said when he heard that they were going to watch a nature documentary, and now his mind, despite being completely distracted by this unexpected situation, connected the dots — the movie was on but still not quite and the y/n slowly starting to rubbing his hips — coming to an unequivocal conclusion.

"are we going to…?" the unfinished question hung in the air, making y/n's eyes widen.

"what? no! not if you don't want to!” she assured quickly, blushing furiously. “but we can if you want… but we don't have to do anything! kissing is cool too. we don't even have to kiss…"

"no!" he protested, straightening up a bit, for he had been leaning more on the mattress on his elbows than actually sitting on it. "no, i want to. i want… everything,” he whispered, much quieter now, slightly ashamed of his apparent need. after thinking about it, he added, "please?"

y/n's face stretched into his favorite kind of smile, and the woman leaned toward him once more, causing spencer to return to his previous position. out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand reach for the TV remote. without breaking eye contact with him, she hit the play button and pulled him into a kiss as the documentary began.

spencer felt like he was about to pass out.

"jesus, you're so cute i could bite your nose if it didn't end well," she said, making him snort in amusement.

"what?" he asked, but y/n just laughed along with him and reached for the buttons on her shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, while kissing him.

spencer never in his wildest dreams would have thought that he could be right here — under the thighs of the most beautiful girl who, he was sure, would never look at him the way y/n was now sizing him up, exposing more and more naked patches of her skin. he breathed heavily, stroking the skin of her thighs as she slid off the black fabric. he didn't know exactly where he had landed, actually, he didn't know much at the moment. his iq didn't matter anymore, he was just a jerk who stared captivated at y/n's swimsuit-covered breasts, his mouth slightly parted and his gaze absent.

"something's wrong?" a soft y/n voice cut through his not very coherent thoughts and distracted him from the dark green fabric where the nipples poked through.

"no," he replied firmly, propping himself up on his elbows a bit to bring his lips closer to hers. "you're just beautiful."

he kissed her hard, feeling y/n lift the corners of his mouth, and his hand, previously resting on her leg, moved up to the woman's back, where the strings of her swimsuit brushed the nape of her neck.

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separatist-apologist · 4 months ago

Text

Long Live

Summary: All archeologist Elain Archeron wants is answers about the past.

Fate is determined to give them to her

MASSIVE thank you @abbadinfluence for having the idea AND allowing me to write - I've had the time of my life, this has been so fun.

And @octobers-veryown for being my personal Rome/Italy consultant- thank you for your knowledge, your time, and most importantly, catching when I used a particularly offensive and/or wrong swear word

For @elucienweekofficial | Read on AO3

Italy in July was miserable. Rome itself was even worse with all the blacktops and the people crammed together. Tourists mingled with locals, moving in crowds so large Elain thought it was a wonder no one got lost inside. How many parents lost track of their children that way, she wondered?

Elain sidestepped a vendor thrusting flowers into her face, one hand up as she shook her head back and forth. She’d lived in Rome for the past five years and thought she knew it like the back of her hand. All its imperfections, the warts it hid, the secrets it tried to keep buried—Elain knew it all.

Or, she thought she did. But when she got a call from University higher-ups that a couple had accidentally uncovered a mosaic floor that, at least on first glance, looked as though it belonged to the Imperial period, which Elain found exciting. She’d been tapped to lead the excavation, her first ever.

She was prepared, ready to go…and wandering toward the Spanish steps for reasons that were still unclear to her. She ought to be in her office running through her plans one last time. Something called her the way it so often did, pulling like a thread tied to her ribs. Elain often found herself jerking awake at night covered in a thin sheen of sweat, trying to recall what, exactly, woke her.

It was driving her fiance crazy. Graysen was ready to leave Rome altogether and return to the United States where Elain would spend more time teaching than she would doing actual archeological work. It sounded miserable to her…and yet she’d promised when he’d slid that ring on her finger.

She didn’t want to go back. She was buying herself time with the mosaic floor but once that was done, she knew Graysen’s patience would reach its end. Maybe that was what drove Elain into the hot Italian sun with only a half-filled bottle of sunscreen taking up space at the bottom of her bag. At least she had her hat.

Battling tourists, Elain made her way up the steps, skin sweat soaked before she’d made it even a third of the way up. Why did she keep doing this to herself?

Because you’ll miss it.

Even the heat, miserable as it could be, was a welcome friend Elain didn’t want to lose. Gray was from the rainy northwest and spoke often about how he longed to return to cloud cover and days that rarely topped the mid-70s.

No more sunburns, he’d reminded her cheerfully just the night before. And sure, the bridge of Elain’s nose was sunburned so often she suspected she’d be in trouble when she was older, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying. And she tanned so nicely in the aftermath that she almost didn’t care.

As she reached the top of the steps, a new, yet persistent thought wormed its way through her mind. You don’t have to marry him.

Catching her breath, Elain banished it. She did have to marry him. They’d been together for years, he’d moved across the world to be with her, had stayed the last five years when it would have been easier to leave. He’d never acclimated to Italian culture, could barely speak the language despite being immersed in it, and he loathed the weather, the tourists, and the locals on scooters who did, on occasion, attempt to mow down a pedestrian in their way.

As if life in the US was so much better. It was merely familiar to him. Elain thought it would all feel foreign and strange, too bright and too loud for her eyes and ears. She didn’t want to return, didn’t want to find a new job or give up a career she was passionate about.

But she couldn’t tell him. Elain knew if she told him, Graysen would ask why they were even getting married, a question he’d broached the first time she’d dug in her heels and said she didn’t want to go. Maybe he’d known it would scare her—she’d certainly folded fairly quickly—or maybe it was how he felt.

All she knew was that if he left, no one would ever be able to love her again. Not like he did. No one would have done even half of what Gray had done for her and she knew she’d never find another man willing to tolerate her obsession, her long hours, and her unwillingness to leave Rome.

Her whole life was a love letter to the city. Elain still remembered how the love affair had begun. She’d heard a story about the goddess Diana turning the hunter Acteaon into a deer when he’d accidentally spied her bathing and Elain had been desperate to hear more. Learn more. It had started with mythology, which spawned an interest in the emperor's themselves. So much of their lives had been mythologized that it felt like listening to a particularly bloody story on par with the gods themselves.

That had spawned a love affair with Roman architecture and history that persisted even to that day. Elain had a doctorate in archeology, was tenured at [Roman University], and lived in the city. It all felt like a dream—one that was slowly becoming a nightmare.

Elain took a breath, intending to return to work if only to get her out of the sun and out of her head. She turned, delighted to see a familiar blonde grinning as she made her way toward her.

“You’re not working today?” Arina asked in her thick, Italian accent. She was the first friend Elain had made when she landed in Rome, bright eyed and so painfully American that people could clock her on the street.

“I should be,” Elain replied, falling into step with Arina. Arina wasn’t from Rome, but Florence, though Elain never would have been able to tell given the way Arina moved through the city. She wasn’t concerned with the men constantly trying to stop her to talk, nor did she care about the vehicles on the road not paying attention when she was in the street. Elain had once watched her scream at a man, hands in the air, curses flying as vicious as any knife.

Arina joked that Elain was the lover, she the fighter.

“What are you doing out here?” Arina demanded, eyeing a woman in khakis with that familiar, Roman judgment Elain hoped to never be on the opposite end of.

“Graysen got a job up in Oregon,” Elain told her, earning an eye roll from Arina.

“Let him go,” she said dismissively. “As if there aren’t men in Rome. They’re all awful, but they’re here. Maybe you could find the one good one, wherever he is.”

“I don’t want another man,” Elain said, a familiar refrain. Arina rolled her eyes again, mumbling something Elain didn’t quite catch under her breath.

“Explain it to me again. Like I’m stupid,” Arina ordered, weaving in and out of crowds without batting an eye. “What about him is so special?”

“You’ve never been in love?” Elain questioned, certain they’d had this conversation a million times before.

Arina shrugged. “Every time I see a beautiful face. So what? What does love have to do with anything?”

“Love is everything—”

“He’s holding you back. He’d see your career crumble to dust if it meant he could be comfortable. Let him go back if that’s what he wants, and let him realize the best thing that ever happened to him was this city.”

“You just don’t understand,” Elain said without anger. Arina didn’t—Elain knew her friend wasn’t lying about how often she fell in love. The problem was how easily Arina fell out of love, too.

The light would shift, dawn would break, and Arina was over it. A lifetime had passed in her mind and whoever she’d imagined herself to be while she’d been with that man was gone, too. Elain envied Arina’s ability to put herself above everything else, to walk away when things no longer suited her.

A greater woman wouldn’t let a man dictate her entire life. Was she pathetic? She’d wondered that many times throughout her relationship with Graysen. Elain simply did not know how to love herself more than she loved him. She wanted love, the kind that people wrote songs about. The kind that transcended time itself. Elain knew that Graysen wasn’t that kind of love, and yet she still couldn’t leave.

She simply wanted to be with him more than she wanted to start all over again. What if there was no one else? What if no one else could love her? She was scared and if she was honest with herself, she knew that was what would convince her to resign and return to the United States.

“I understand perfectly well,” Arina disagreed, pulling Elain from her thoughts. “We lose too many good women to these losers that have nothing going on for them. He’ll have you in his kitchen, pregnant while your research is dustier than Cicero’s writings and the world will be a worse place for it. You’re on the verge of something big, Elain. What if this is the missing estate of Emperor Lucius—”

“It’s not,” she said firmly, heart pounding in her throat. Arina had hurt her feelings just enough that Elain didn’t want to play the what-if game. Finding the missing home of the late Emperor would give Elain the one thing she’d always wanted—true insight into the missing Empress Helena . Every piece of research she’d done over the past five years had centered around the two of them.

In the later writings before Lucius died, he lamented the loss of Helena , though he never spoke of what happened to her. Only that she had gone on the eve of a great battle, leaving scholars to speculate she had returned to the fringes of the Empire, back to Britania where she had been born. There was no record of her departure, no writings that confirmed she’d ever arrived. Elain’s thesis had been that Elena had been slaughtered by Saxons before she made it home and could write to the Emperor, and Lucius had been so heartbroken, he’d never been able to write the whole story down.

Not everyone agreed, of course. A myriad of other scholars believed she’d died in childbirth or Lucius had divorced her, bending to public pressure around his foreign born wife. The one thing they all agreed on, however, was that he’d loved her. If Elain could find the home he’d had outside the city—the home it was rumored that she often stayed in during the final months of their marriage—Elain could piece together the final days of the Empress and validate her research.

Finding proof of the Empress right as Graysen wanted to leave would put Elain in a terrible position. Did she stay and end her relationship? Or did she pick Graysen and leave someone else to finish what she’d started, taking all the credit while she became exactly what Arina accused her of?

Elain could think of nothing else that night as she made her way back to the little apartment she shared with Graysen. He had the shutters closed tight like he always did because he hated the sounds of the city that Elain loved so much. While he stared down at his phone, she made her way methodically through the home and unlatched the windows, ignoring the heavy sigh he exhaled behind her.

“So,” she began, Arina’s words still ringing in her head, “tomorrow is the beginning of the excavation.”

Graysen seemed to perk up. “How long will it take?”

Months. Elain shrugged. “A month, maybe less.”

Better to lie and drag it out than tell him the truth and let him tell her no right away.

“I’m looking at houses,” Graysen told her as he rose from a black leather chair. “I want you to look at some of them, tell me what you think.”

Elain’s heart began to race all over again. “Houses?”

Graysen stepped around her, shoes still on, to make his way toward the kitchen. “Yes, Elain. Houses. Aren’t you tired of these tiny ass apartments in these dirty fucking cities?”

No. “Where are you looking?”

“Outside Portland. Close enough to commute but quiet. A place with a lawn, and neighbors for our kids to play with.”

Elain thought she might be sick. “Kids?”

Graysen whipped around so fast Elain stumbled back a step. “We’ve talked about this, Elain. Kids, a family, a life.”

“I know…I just thought…” She didn’t know what she thought, honestly. Biting her bottom lip, Elain said, “I’m not ready for kids, Gray.”

“Let’s just get out of here, first, and get married. This is just a plan, okay? Don’t freak out, baby.”

But she was freaking out. Even as Graysen pulled her into his chest, all she could think about was Arina’s accusation that Graysen wanted to turn her into his housewife. “In a year, who knows? Maybe you’ll be tired of all this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she lied.

Elain knew she’d never be tired of it.

—

Lucien glanced over at his brother, lounging casually against a pillar. They weren’t alone. As they waited just outside the Curia. Voices echoed off the high ceiling, slipping into the ether before any one could be untangled for a curious eavesdropper. Normally, Lucien would try and pick out the philosophers from the politicians but today he was focused.

If they succeeded—and it was a big if—he needed to be entirely focused. The same was true if they failed, honestly. If their plot was revealed before they could carry it out, Lucien would be jailed for treason before being made into a public spectacle.

Beron would see the Empire laid to ruin under his madness. The people starved, their coffers were dwindling by the day, and the city was still reeling from a recent fire. They needed stability. They’d tried other means first. Eris had poisoned multiple goblets of wine, they’d sent snakes, assassins—everyone failed.

It was time to get their own hands bloody.

For the sixth time that day, Lucien adjusted the fabric of his toga draped over an arm, careful to ensure the purple stripe was visible. Across the room, Jurian glanced out the open bronze doors, cheeks flushed from the heat. It was a miserable day already, the sun bearing down on them unbearably. Lucien wanted to retreat to the countryside where he swore to the gods it was never this hot.

The entry went silent as Beron swept in, devoid of the guards Octavian had once commanded. Beron believed himself to be divine, more god than man. Lucien intended to show him otherwise.

Eris stepped forward, immaculate despite the heat, and bowed his head in a show of deference. “Are we ready?”

Beron’s brown eyes swept the room. “Is this everyone today?”

“There’s a war, if you recall,” Lucien reminded the Emperor, trying not to grind his teeth. Another costly war with the gauls that was unlikely to yield anything but more widows and wasted money. Beron was going to cost them Britania if he wasn’t careful—Lucien knew the Saxons were watching, waiting to see how things shook out on the Germanic border. How long before Beron was sending Lucien out to war, too?

And Eris?

Before every enemy he had in Rome was marching on a battlefield where a knife to the back was much easier to orchestrate? Lucien didn’t intend on dying that way. No, if he died it was going to be in his bed because old age had finally come for him. If he was lucky, he’d be surrounded by children and grandchildren, though that assumed he had a wife and Lucien had not been lucky on that front.

If he let himself think about Jesminda, Lucien would utterly fail in his part in their plot. He couldn’t help himself, ruminating on his failures that had led to her death. It had been no one's fault…and yet he blamed himself anyway. Married for just a year—the best year of Lucien’s life, if he was honest with himself. He’d been just a junior Senator then, a nobles son from the Galatia province desperate to cut his teeth on Roman politics.

And Jesminda had been…well. She’d been wild. Too wild for patrician life and yet she’d tried anyway. If Lucien had been smart, he would have given it all up and taken her far, far away from the city. He’d merely loved it too much and assured himself she would learn to love it, too. Everything had been for her. The money, the social climbing—everything.

She should have been with him, listening to him plotting from beside him in their shared bed. And their child…he should have been there, too. He’d have been toddling around by then, speaking his first words with a mop of Jesminda’s dark curls. Lucien thought of them often, wishing Jesminda hadn’t lost her life trying to bring his son into the world.

By the time Lucien realized what was happening, it was all too late. Jesminda was gone, hair stained red from all the blood she’d lost. He hadn’t even been able to tell her goodbye. And the babe…the baby hadn’t lasted the night, taking his last, frail breaths from Lucien’s trembling arms. He’d prayed on his knees to the gods, begging them to let the baby to live.

And then he’d prayed to bring her back. He’d offered a trade—his life for hers. He’d go into the underworld himself if he could only just find it. The gods were silent, their decision final. So he raged, instead, and then he fell silent when it was clear there was no undoing what was done. No bringing either of them back, no happiness the way he’d envisioned it.

And he knew eventually he’d marry another Senator's daughter, likely to cement some powerful alliance between them. Lucien dreaded it all the same.

Lost in thought, he’d forgotten where he was or what he was doing until Jurian’s elbow connected with his rib. No words were exchanged between them, but Lucien knew what Jurian was asking.

Are you still coming?

There was time to back out if he wanted. Lucien might have if he’d been a coward, but he wasn’t. He was going to see Eris crowned Emperor if it was the last thing he did and it might be. Beron wasn’t known for being merciful. In one particular instance of lunacy, Beron had decided to wage war with Neptune himself, marching an army all the way to the shores of Britannia only to slash at the sea with his sword.

That had been Lucien’s final breaking point. He’d read the report through clenched teeth and decided right then and there that he’d had enough. Beron made a mockery of Rome’s greatness and threatened to undo everything their predecessors had worked for. Lucien would be damned if he let the Empire fall to ruin when there was a simple fix.

He followed Jurian into the Curia, closing the bronze doors behind him with a heavy click. Dragging his eyes around the room, Lucien focused on the bright green and red tiles adorning the floors rather than look behind Beron at the fountain of Saturn bubbling cheerfully in a stream of bright, golden light. In a few moments—just as soon as Eris gave the signal—those same tiles would be soaked with blood.

“Is this everyone who means to attend today?” Beron demanded, unaware this session had been called in secret. Of the six hundred Senators, only fifty were in attendance and that was by design. By the time the rest learned of what happened, Eris’s guards would have taken the city and he’d be crowned Emperor.

Eris only shrugged, fingers flexing over his chest. That was the signal. The rest of them made their way toward Beron, still unaware, while Jurian stood against the door to keep Beron from getting out or his guards, were they to show up, from getting in.

Eris’s blade connected with Beron’s stomach first—he’d wanted the first cut given Beron had raised him. He’d been a cruel father before he’d been a crueler Emperor. It was only right that Eris got the satisfaction of looking Beron in the eye and Beron knowing the plot had been orchestrated by Eris.

Beron’s knees buckled, eyes wide not with fear but blazing, burning hatred. “Omnis homo mendax,” he spat, clearly caught off guard. Lucien joined the fray, his blade bloodied by the time Beron gasped out his last.

It wasn’t the first death he’d ever seen—but it was one of the more satisfying ones. Panting, arm aching from the effort it took to pierce flesh and bone, Lucien looked up at Eris.

“We must go, brother,” he warned as Jurian pushed off the door. “Quickly, before this was all for nothing.” They’d made it five steps across the room, Senators trailing behind Eris, when the doors shoved open. Armed guards with familiar faces made their way into the room. They weren’t Eris’s men, but Lucien’s and when they saw him, they immediately took a knee.

“What are you doing?” Lucien demanded. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

“Beron’s men swept the city,” Antonius began apprehensive, looking from the pooling blood to Lucien. “Say the word and we’ll secure the city in your name.”

“Where are my—”

“Dead, Senator,” Antonius told him, jaw set with determination. They had seconds to act before word spread—before one of the Senators standing behind them had a change of heart and declared himself Dictator. “Say the word.”

Lucien turned to Eris, thinking of Beron’s last words. Omnis homo mendax. Every man is a liar. Eris must have been thinking it, too. Would they become enemies? Lucien needed Eris’s support, not just politically, but generally. They were brothers in every way that mattered, though also technically as Lucien’s mother was Eris’s mother. He’d been sent away when he’d been born rather than shame Beron’s good name and Lucien imagined it must have rankled Beron to see the product of his wife’s infidelity turn up in Rome as a man.

Lucien wouldn’t give the word until Eris did.

“Better you than anyone else,” Eris finally said, sweeping aside the fabric of his toga to kneel before Lucien. “Take the city.”

“Go,” Lucien ordered, heart racing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It should have been him on his knees while Eris was crowned, not the other way around. Lucien had never been so ambitious, hadn’t spent the years cultivating allies and purging his enemies. Right then, Lucien wasn’t sure if he could trust anyone in that room. Even as Antonius stood, barking orders to lock the city down until everyone loyal to Beron was removed, Lucien wondered if there wouldn’t be a dagger in his back by the end of the day.

There was no taking it back. Only Jurian had a sense of humor about the whole thing, laughing loudly as Lucien approached.

“Well,” he said with a broad, unrestrained grin, “long live the Emperor.”

Lucien very much doubted he’d live long at all.

And still.

Long live the Emperor.

ELAIN:

The whole drive out into the countryside, all Elain could think about was Graysen and the plans he’d made. She felt like a doll in a toy box, one that could be moved around at will but had no say in where she went or what she did. He’d sent her the houses he was looking into, aided by his parents who were already touring them back in the states and sending pictures of each room.

This would be perfect for a nursery. That had been the message his mother had sent over, showing off a large room with bay windows overlooking a spacious, lush backyard. Elain’s stomach was still churning as she thought about it. Her future was decided—all she had to do was smile and nod her head.

Truthfully, she probably didn’t need to even do that much. Just stay with him and Graysen would decide it all for her. She could be passive, even in her own life. A leaf blown along stronger winds until she was a stranger even to herself. If she thought about it too hard, Elain started to cry though she didn’t understand why.

This was what she wanted. She’d told Graysen so for years—she wanted kids, wanted marriage, wanted the white picket fence and the house in the suburbs. So why did it fill her with panic now that she was so close to getting everything she’d ever wanted?

The bus jostled, tire slamming into a pothole. Arina slammed against Elain from the seat beside her, elbow hitting her rib as Elain’s temple collided with the glass. Arina mumbled out a quick apology, her own expression as moody as the sky overhead. Elain didn’t think it was going to rain, though the cloud cover was a welcome relief after the week they’d had. She didn’t think she could withstand a straight month of nothing but sun.

Though, she would. Elain needed good news. She wanted to excavate a whole estate, with statues and a fountain—and if she was lucky, and the current homeowners unlucky, a bath house too.

For now, though, she had a mosaic floor and that was enough to keep her busy and away from home. She and Arina had booked a room in the village and would stay for the next week before returning to Rome for the weekend. Elain considered, briefly, telling Graysen her cell reception was bad.

And yet there she was, right then, texting him.

Miss you already.

What was wrong with her, she wondered? She ought to be studied. Crack open her skull and see where the disconnect between her heart and mind was because rationally Elain knew what she needed to do. It was emotionally that tangled her all up. She still loved him, still wanted everything they’d talked about. And part of her hoped, foolishly, that she could have everything if she simply refused to make a choice.

“I can hear your thoughts,” Arina complained when Elain remained uncharacteristically quiet. “You might as well scream them at me.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I won’t shut up,” Arina replied without malice. “What did he do now?”

“Nothing,” Elain said, resting her head on the window of the bus. “He’s looking at houses in Portland.”

Arina wrinkled her nose with distaste, though Elain was willing to bet if she laid out a map of the United States, Arina couldn’t tell her where Portland even was. It didn’t matter when Elain also knew that Arina simply thought there was nowhere better to live but Italy. Elain agreed, though she had no intention of admitting that to Arina just then. Her smugness would be unbearable.

“Did you tell him you don’t want to go?”

Elain sighed, earning an even heavier sigh from Arina.

“Why not? What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know? A sign from Jupiter?” she joked weakly. “If he could just…tell me what I should do—”

“That’s what your gut is for but you’re not listening,” Arina replied, poking Elain in the ribs. “He’s already there telling you to dump Gray and step into your destiny.”

“What a cliche,” Elain lamented, turning her eyes back toward the green Italian landscape. “She’s married to her work.”

“Better than being some man’s slave,” Arina muttered darkly.

“How do you do that? Turn it all off, I mean?” Elain asked curiously. “My parents were so in love and I just want a sliver of what they had.”

“Well, my parents were not in love—not like that, anyway. My father was loud and mean and my mother tolerated it. Abuse wasn’t in her vocabulary, and she’d been taught that was just how men were. And I told myself I would never let a man steal my life from me. You’re going to die one day, Elain. Is this how you want to spend it?”

“If I could make myself love him less, I would.”

“You don’t have to love him less, just love yourself more,” Arina told her softly. Her words struck Elain harder than any physical blow, robbing her of breath. Love yourself more. Elain didn’t know how. Her whole life had been in service of others—keeping the peace between her two sisters and their loud personalities, taking care of her father when her mother died, making sure everyone was happy no matter what. When Graysen came along, Elain was working toward something that made her happy at the expense of what everyone else wanted for her and he’d seemed supportive. How many times had Gray said he wanted to take care of her, for once?

He’d encouraged her to apply for the professorship in Italy, had been so willing to pack up his life and move that she felt selfish, suddenly, for denying him something he clearly wanted.

Relationships were give and take, right?

Arina shook her head, reading Elain’s mind like she always did. Elain wore her every thought against her expression, making it easy for the rest of the world to know what she was thinking. Or maybe Arina just understood Elain better than anyone else—she couldn’t be sure.

They arrived not much later, arriving in idyllic Caprarola. From there it was a decent walk hauling all their supplies toward the home nestled among rolling hills and the remnants of the Italian Renaissance. Arina was in heaven, pointing out this architectural style and that type of stone while Elain tried to stay present in the moment.

Her thoughts kept shifting back to Gray. Glancing upward at the cloud-filled sky, she wondered if it was foolish to send a prayer to a god she didn’t believe in. Still, as Elain climbed out after Arina, she decided to try.

Saturn, if you can hear me- give me a sign. Anything. I’ll take any sign at all.

Elain didn’t know why she settled on Saturn other than she was thinking about Rome, still, and the old temple of Saturn that had once stood in the forum. It didn’t matter. Saturn didn’t exist and there would be no divine intervention. No signs, no watchful gods trying to steer her on the right path.

“Are you ready?” Arina whispered, lacing her fingers through Elain’s for a moment to offer an excited squeeze. Elain was desperate, her plans tucked up under her arms. The first few days would be carefully excavating the existing floor and looking for anything else that may be nearby. Elain felt a little bad for the homeowners—if their home was on top of Roman ruins, it belonged to the Italian government.

Arina had no business being there other than Elain had invited her. They didn’t need an art historian this early in the process and yet as they all descended on the backyard, Elain was glad she’d brought Arina.

“Wow,” Arina murmured, eyes as bright as the midday Italian sun. Time had faded the once vibrant blue and red tiles and still they were visible beneath the scattered layer of dirt. There, a good six feet or more underground, lay the one glorious floor of a Roman. If she was lucky, the rumors would be true and she'd uncover it belonged to Emperor Lucien.

And if she was less lucky, she’d still get to excavate a piece of Roman history.

“Let’s get started.”

So much of the day was inching along carefully—Elain spent the vast majority of the day creating a grid of the site and assigning her grad students to each square. From there they took pictures in an attempt to see what lay beneath the soil, all of which was noted very carefully in logs. Though she was desperate to start digging, it was important to ensure nothing was damaged.

There was more than just a floor there—Elain was certain that it had a whole bath house within that yard and the one connected to the neighbors. No matter what happened next, Elain knew she had a patrician’s home under her feet.

She didn’t sleep well. Her dreams were drenched in color so bright she woke with a pounding headache and aching eyes, her skin so sweaty the sheets stuck to her body. Elain had fallen asleep texting Graysen, frustrated he wasn’t more excited about her potential discovery. He’d mustered a, that’s great, babe! before going right back to sending her house listings and pictures from his mom.

Make a choice.

Elain wanted to throw her life to the wolves and see what happened. She was frustrated and tired and if she was honest with herself, bored to death. The idea that this was the future waiting for her made her stomach tumble viciously, not with excitement but dread.

Wasn’t that enough of a sign?

She still loved him. Loved him enough to want to want the life he was offering her. What was so bad about it? Other than the dreary monotony and the fact that it was only her sacrificing her dreams? People went their whole lives without the kind of security Graysen was promising. Why couldn’t she just decide? Why couldn’t she get over herself and be the right woman for him? Elain vowed that night she’d show more enthusiasm, pick a house, and get on board. It wasn’t fair to punish him for her indecision and she couldn’t stay with him if it made her unhappy. If they were going to be together then they needed to be together.

Elain shook the thought from her head and laced up her boots. Today she was getting dirty, which meant utility pants and a white shirt tucked neatly into the waistband. She’d pulled her thick curls into a messy french braid and slathered sunscreen over her face before jamming her wide brim sun hat against her head.

Arina was waiting in a soft, blue cotton dress that looked beautiful against the golden brown of her skin. She’s left her hair down, her face uncovered and a little mascara slicked over her eyelashes. Elain envied Arina’s ability to seem effortlessly put together regardless of the circumstances, though she was absurdly overdressed for excavating.

“I’ll leave the dirt to you,” Arina said with a grin, reading Elain’s thoughts as she so often did. “I want to see that Roman bath.”

“I think we’ve got a genuine hot tub,” Elain said, pulling out some of the pictures taken the day before. “Intact and well preserved, though we won’t know until we’re looking at it.”

“Let’s get to it, then,” Arina replied.

And so they did. The morning was spent carefully digging. Her grad students were obviously frustrated by the afternoon, having grown up on a steady diet of The Mummy and Indiana Jones. Real life archeology was slower, careful and precise. After all, no one wanted to be the person who destroyed a priceless piece of history because they’d been too eager and careless.

And Elain was desperate at that point—she’d been right. A whole bath house was emerging, pieces crumbling from centuries of disuse, its lead pipes cracked, the tiles chipped. She’d resketched their area to include the new discovery, demolishing nearly the entire back garden. The owners of the home watched from the window, scowls on their faces. Maybe it had been unkind of Elain to send the grad student she liked the least to let them know what had been found. She’d been in that position, once, though not to this degree, and decided it was a character defining moment.

The afternoon was spent going layer by layer in the soil, careful not to accidentally miss anything that may have shifted over the centuries. They dug up a couple necklaces and the broken pieces of an amphora that once had held water or wine—or maybe oil. It was hard to tell given the few shards they had.

Elain worked well into the night, turning overhead lights on as she crept closer and closer to a true, Roman bath. Arina stayed with her, even after they cut their grad students loose.

“Should we be here this late?” Arina asked, climbing gingerly down into the trench Elain had dug.

“No…but I want to see it before anyone else.”

Elain swore the world felt different down in that hole. Surrounded by the white and red mosaic, cracked and in some places completely gone, Elain could almost imagine what it would have been like.

“Look at this,” Arina breathed, running her fingers over a half ruined fresco on what was left of an archway.

“What’s the time period?”

“Imperial for sure,” Arina told her, echoing what Elain already knew. Still, the confirmation was nice. There would be no narrowing it down tonight, though they both were thinking the same thing—this could belong to the period Lucius had ruled. This could be the home he’d died in, where he’d penned those journals lamenting the loss of his late wife Elena.

“Look at this,” Arina said, beckoning for Elain to follow after her. Careful of where they stepped, the pair made their way to the furthest wall to look at what once would have been a vibrant fresco. The reds had faded to a rusty colored orange, the faces worn away by time.

“It’s Chronos,” Arina breathed, fingers hovering without quite touching. “See how he hunches over? His beard is still there…just barely. And here, it’s Kairos I think. Usually a younger, handsome man beside Chronos would be Kairos—”

“Greek?”

She shrugged. “The Romans borrowed a lot from the Greeks. Perfected it, I’m sure they’d say. The wealthy would have known all the Greek philosophers and they would have been familiar with Greek mythology. I suppose our Emperor was a fan.”

“Why have the Greek god of time on the wall?” Arina looked around in the dark, trying to make out the rest of the wall. “It’s probably some larger theme. Maybe he was worried about the years passing? Or not seizing an opportunity?”

Static had caused pieces of Arina’s blonde hair to stand on end and the smell of something sulfuric had begun to fill the air. Elain, like Arina, was transfixed by the image and the space they currently stood in.

Arina glanced at Elain. “No one would know if we just—”

“Carefully,” she said, heart thudding with excitement. “If the oil from our fingers—”

“Think about how they used to excavate things. No gloves, just dirty hands,” Arina said as she pulled a thing of vanilla scented hand sanitizer from the bag wrapped around her waist. “We can’t be any worse than them.”

Elain didn’t know about that, though she didn’t argue. With one hand, she clasped Arina’s, linking them inextricably and with the other she reached for the wall at the same moment Arina did.

A hook jerked just behind her navel, ripping her forward so quickly Elain’s eyes slammed shut to avoid the inevitable crash against solid, Roman concrete. She was going to be in so much trouble—the university would be irate when they realized she and Arina had destroyed a priceless piece of Roman architecture.

Elain and Arina tumbled to the ground, elbow connecting with the solid floor. The smell of sulfur was more present as heat danced along her skin. Elain felt condensation on her cheek, mopped up from the floor she was sprawled against.

Arina groaned, dragging her lower body off of Elain. “I’m sorry…” she began, voice trailing off. Opening her eyes, Elain expected to be engulfed by darkness. Instead, she found bronze lamps hanging from the ceiling blazing, illuminating a truly magnificent room. A bath room, complete with a massive pool with glittering blue water that wafted steam up toward the vaulted ceiling. Empty chaises with plush, red fabric were set along the wall painted in colors so vivid Elain was certain she must be hallucinating.

Arina stood, her white dress ripped just above the knee from where they’d fallen. While Elain remained on the ground, desperately trying to catch her breath, Arina went to look at the painting.

“Look,” she said, her voice too breathless for Elain’s liking. “It’s the same fresco. There he is…Chronos—”

“Qu quidnam facis?”

Elain and Arina turned, Elain clambering to her feet as the latin words slithered through the warm air. There, just outside an open bronzed door, stood two men in belted brown tunics and worn, leather sandals. Dark curls spilled over olive skin, while two sets of brown eyes stared at them accusingly.

“We…” Elain trailed off, unsure what to make about any of this.

“Chi sei esattamente?!” Arina snapped back in sharp Italian. It was the wrong thing to say in perhaps the wrong language, because the two men began calling for guards in Latin. In Latin. Elain couldn’t get her mind to keep up with what was happening because Latin was a dead language and no one spoke it outside of academia. She was dreaming, she decided, and not even having iron cuffs clamped around her wrist could convince her otherwise.

“Elain,” Arina whispered when the doors to the room they were being held in were locked, “I think we’re in trouble.”

“Wake up,” Elain whispered to herself.

But she never did.

—

Lucien was in hell. Declared Emperor by the cohortes praetoriae, Lucien found himself standing before a packed Senate, about to be crowned. Among the gathered crowd of patricians, Lucien found his older brother looking back at him, cheeks reddened from the heat. There was no taking it back, not without making his whole line look weak and painting a target on their backs.

He didn’t understand how it had happened. Somewhere in the very back, Lucien saw his father talking with another Senator, deliberately not looking at his son.

This kind of maneuver had his father written all over it.

It was tempting to touch the golden fibula on his shoulder, each bearing the symbols of Rome. Lucien still felt like he was dreaming and had ever since the purple paludamentum had been brought to him, now fluttering behind his armor. He was the picture of Roman strength, the promise of the Roman future. And as he stood before his peers, Lucien felt like a fraud.

He hadn’t been born to rule. And still, he had the recognition and support of the Roman Army—all he needed was the Senate to declare him Imperator Caesar and Lucien as he’d once been would be no more.

The room went silent as Eris stood, the only living consul available to Lucien at the moment—they’d executed the other just the morning before. Lucien could still hear the wails of the man’s widow as Jurian had dragged him cowering from his home where Lucien had been waiting, sword in hand. He may not have considered himself worthy of the title, but he’d be damned if some sniveling coward put a knife in his back.

Eris could refuse. Could spit at Lucien’s feet if he’d wanted. Lucien knew he wouldn’t, though he could see the furious resentment burning in Eris’ gaze. The only thing that would spare Lucien was the knowledge that Lucien had not been the one to betray Eris. He doubted it would save his father from Eris’ wrath, and it had occurred to Lucien that he might be better off sending Eris to a far-flung province and forgetting him entirely.

He needed his brother. Eris was just as cunning, just as conniving, but with a talent for surviving. Lucien wanted Eris at his right hand until the day he died, and so when his brother who should have been Emperor approached, Lucien let him. He knew the vipers surrounding them were half hoping for a spectacle—a little more blood spilled on the floor, a little more violence to satisfy their hunger.

Eris held a golden crown made to look like laurel leaves. “Behold,” Eris said, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings overhead, “Imperator Caesar Augustus Lucius. Long may He serve Rome.” Lucien inclined his head just enough for Eris to set that crown atop his head before his eyes swept over the room, trying to meet the eyes of everyone who was still living. I let you live, he hoped his expression said, I will not be so generous if you betray me.

And then he launched into the speech he’d spent the night working on. Lucien had read from predecessors long past, looking at those who had done the job well and the words they’d spoken. He wanted to evoke a sense of safety and trust—he was here to take care of the Roman people, not enrich himself at their expense. And to that end, Lucien had ordered a month of games starting on the next kalendes to give him time to prepare a true spectacle and get himself mostly settled into his new position.

His proclamation was received with thunderous applause—everyone loved an excuse to celebrate and it had been a long time since they’d had cause for it. Beron had all but banned the games, calling them too expensive and too distracting to a populace better suited for work than pleasure.

It wasn’t the Roman way. Had Eris not orchestrated his death, Beron was well on his way to being declared enemy of the people much like Nero before him. Lucien had been content to wait and watch before Eris put his foot down. Did his brother regret it, he wondered?

With the Senate convened, Lucien was free to accept congratulations from his fellow patricians. Jurian and Eris hung back by the door, waiting for the rest to file out so they could descend on Lucien like wolves.

He needed to speak with his father. Catching the older man by the wrist, Lucien muttered, “Was this your doing?” Helion was unrepentant. “Blasphemy, son.”

“You—”

“Not here. Dinner with your mother and I? I assume our new Imperator isn’t so busy he can’t spare a little time for his mother?”

Lucien ground his teeth together before nodding. “Fine. Send word when you’d like me.”

“You have a standing invitation,” Helion reminded him before sauntering out, the last of the stragglers.

“How does it feel?” Jurian asked once Helion was gone. Lucien glanced toward Eris.

“I didn’t—”

“I know,” Eris said, jaw set all the same. “That dead bastard guessing my plan is my fault—I should have planned for that inevitably.”

Lucien opened his mouth to offer to step down but the scathing look Eris shot him silenced him. Eris had always been good at reading his mind.

“What’s done is done,” Eris said, his disappointment clear. “I won’t be wasting any more time on what might have been. The gods have spoken.”

“Well I—”

“Princeps,” a servant bowed low, stopping Lucien in the hall leading out of the Curia, eyes on the marble below them.

“Speak.”

“Word has come from your estate in Eturia. Two spies have infiltrated and are being held while we await your instruction.”

Already? “Spies? From where?”

The slave winced, olive skin already burned in the sun. They spoke like a Roman, though their accent betrayed them. They sounded suspiciously Dacian, though he couldn’t be sure and truthfully, he cared very little.

The servant shrugged beneath their brown tunic. “They are difficult to understand.”

Eris and Jurian cut a glance to Lucien. “Germanic?”

“Possibly.”

“Bring them to Rome,” Lucien ordered. “I’ll question them myself.”

They waited for the servant to depart before they began speaking among themselves. “A barbarian this close to the city?” Jurian asked with amusement as they stepped out into the bright sunlight of the late morning. Light reflected from the marble, blinding Lucien temporarily before his eyes adjusted. Bustling crowds jostled for space, their conversations blurring into a murmuring jumble of words.

Slipping past a group arguing passionately about rising olive prices, Lucien continued his conversation with Eris and Jurian.

“Do you really think two germanic barbarians came all this way to rob you?” Jurian questioned, eyes sliding upward toward the markets, built not with marble like the rest of the forum, but with brick directly against the hillside. Lucien could smell cooking meat, mingled alongside sweat, leather, and citrus.

“No,” Lucien replied. “Scouts would have been swept up in Gaul before they ever made it this far.” If he hadn’t just been made Emperor, Lucien would have gone himself just to keep things quiet. He didn’t need word spreading and causing a panic–though, if he was clever, Lucien saw a future in which he could deploy troops back to the Rhine and take more territory.

“Assassins, then,” Eris said with a little too much amusement. “You’re better off cutting their throats before they ever reach Rome.”

“I’ll make them part of the games,” Lucien declared, running his fingers over a large pillar depicting the accomplishments of an emperor long before him. He needed one of his own—a project for later, he decided privately. “If they’re assassins, the lions can have them, and if they’re barbarians, the gladiators can show them what happens when one attempts to challenge Rome.”

It was settled, leaving Lucien to make the rounds. His praetorian guards trailed just behind, their mere presence a warning to anyone who thought to get too close. Those, Lucien kept a weapon on his person as well, paranoid of every face he didn’t recognize—and many he did.

He didn’t sleep well that night—nor the next one. Everything was happening quickly. Decisions needed to be made and a legacy built. Lucien, like so many before him, was interested in expansion to add to the glory of Rome and prove to the Romans he was worthy of his title and position.

Lucien commissioned works of art—and not just of himself—and began his preparations for the games. Animals needed to be brought in which took time—of which he had very little. Lucien had nearly forgotten about the intruders until Eris came around Palatine Hill, strolling into the palace that had once belonged to Beron—and every emperor that had come before him—as though it belonged to him.

“Your captives have arrived,” Eris said, a grin on his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Apparently your captives have been giving your soldiers a difficult time.”

“And that amuses you?”

“Come with me,” Eris said, beckoning Lucien to leave his place at his desk. “You’ll see why.”

And indeed, Lucien did find the source of Eris’s amusement when they descended into the bowels of Mamertine. It reeked of human suffering and filth and was so dark and damp that despite the heat of the day, Lucien felt cold.

Eris ordered for the door of the cell to be opened, revealing not two barbaric soldiers itching for blood…but two slim, dirty women peering back at him from the gloom. Lucien turned to look at Eris, exasperated.

“Is this supposed to be funny? You wrangled two prostitutes—”

The blonde woman began snarling words in a language he didn’t recognize, though the tone conveyed just what she thought about what he’d said.

The brunette, however, spoke Latin. “We’re not prostitutes,” she said earnestly, leaning forward in an attempt to really look at him. “This is a misunderstanding.”

Eris held his hands up, iron ring glinting in the firelight. “I had no part in this.”

“You were caught trespassing,” Lucien informed them, stepping a few feet into the tiny cell. “How do you account for that?”

The women exchanged a glance and Lucien knew, without needing to read their thoughts, that they were about to tell him a lie. What would they invent, he wondered?

“We’re from Britannia,” she said—and Lucien believed that, given the fairness of her skin and the blonde hair of the woman beside her. “We were overtaken on the road and forced to continue alone on foot. When we saw your estate, we hoped someone might welcome us inside—”

“And instead we’ve been imprisoned, assaulted, and accused of prostitution!” the blonde beside her bit out. Their accents were unusual, tinged with an inflection he didn’t recognize. They weren’t even the same accent—the blonde’s words were sharper while the brunette spoke with a rolling drawl he found oddly charming.

“Prove you’re not a prostitute,” Eris said, clearly willing to provoke an angry woman. Lucien didn’t move, still curious as the blonde offered him a deceptively sweet smile.

“Come and see for yourself,” she offered. Lucien wouldn’t have dared—he knew an armed opponent when he saw one. Eris should have known better and yet he crossed the stone floor and reached out a hand, perhaps curious about the mass of blonde hair tangled around her face.

“Arina—” the brunette tried to stop her friend, but the woman bit Eris hard enough that Lucien saw the blood before he heard Eris’s furious curse.

With bloody lips, the blonde looked up at him and said, “Biting is bad for business.”

Eris turned to look at Lucien, mouth agape.

“This whole thing is merely a misunderstanding,” the brunette told him. “If you let us go—”

“Where would I release you to? A husband? Father?” Lucien questioned.

Both women exchanged a glance. “I…”

Liars, the pair of them. He could leave them, of course—it was tempting to wash his hands of the entire thing and return back to a world filled with daylight. The light from the hall shifted, through firelight onto the brunettes features and Lucien found himself unable to do so. She was…well.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even with dirt staining her features. And she was looking at him with soft pleading, brown eyes and Lucien simply could not bring himself to treat her cruelly.

“You’ll stay in my household as guests,” he declared as Eris swore softly beside him, shaking out his injured hand. “Just until we can find a relative to place you with.”

The blonde muttered something to the brunette in a third language—not the sharp constants from before, but something harsher and angrier sounding.

“Um,” the brunette began, gaze darting between the three of them. “Will we stay here in Rome, or can we—”

“In Rome,” Lucien said, nose burning from the stench of suffering. “That is where you were headed, is it not?”

The brunette didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then there should be no problems.”

Whatever these women had been doing would reveal itself in time, and until then, keeping them in his household allowed Lucien to keep watch on them. He swore that was all he cared about—the safety of his city and the security of his position. But as the brunette stood, in clothes so strange he couldn’t figure them out at all, he knew this was more than pragmatism. She was beautiful and Lucien was still a man.

Eris, too, was taking in their clothing, his nose wrinkled with distaste.

“Be careful of your next words,” the blonde warned, eyes wide.

Eris scowled. “Be careful of yours. Is this how men are treated in your home?”

“Worse,” she replied with a savage, bloodstained smile.

“You look like a whore,” Eris snapped, clearly still pissed. Lucien’s head whipped around, a warning to silence himself on his tongue. The brunette clearly had the same thought because she gripped her friend’s wrist and whispered a clear, harsh warning in the ugly native tongue of hers. She was too beautiful to speak such a barbaric language, and more beautiful still when she turned to him and said, in Latin, “We’re so grateful for your hospitality.”

“Your name?” Lucien heard himself asking. Tell me the truth.

“Elain,” she said, the word easily the most beautiful thing that had come from her lips since they’d met. “And this is Arina.”

Eris’ scowl deepened. “The soldiers. Did they touch you?”

Elain and Arina exchanged another glance, a yes if Lucien had ever seen it. It was unlike his brother to care and yet it was clear Eris wanted an answer, and intended to exact punishment on those who he felt had done wrong.

“And if they did?” Arina demanded, crossing her arms over a ripped, white shift that made Lucien uncomfortable to look at.

Eris nodded, pointing a finger in her face. “You will point them out to me—”

“That’s not…we’re unharmed,” Elain hastened to assure him, but Lucien found himself agreeing with Eris. If they’d been touched unwillingly, maybe he might like to see some justice done, too.

“You will tell him which of my soldiers harmed you,” Lucien said, his word law. Did they know? Or had they departed believing Beron was Emperor. He gestured toward his brother and added,

“This is Consul Eris,” Lucien began, strangely pleased to tell Elain who he was, “and I am Lucien, Caesar Imperator Augustus.”

Elain and Arina both inclined their heads, knees bending strangely. Were they bowing? That was wholly unnecessary though…Lucien allowed it. He couldn’t explain himself, certainly not to his brother who was watching…but he liked the sight of Elain sinking to her knees before him. He beckoned for them to follow him out, gulping down fresh air the moment they were back outside.

“See them to my home,” he told his brother, wanting a minute to himself. “Ensure they’re made comfortable.”

Eris nodded. “You’ll regret this.”

Lucien smiled.

He had no doubts about that.

#elucien #pro elucien #REMEMBER THIS IS LIKE THE REIGN OF FICS OK???

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eveningepiphany · 1 year ago

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 2

the girlies asked so I deliver!

read part one here, or check out my masterlist!

summary: after the accidental cafe run in, harry and y/n have wound up with each others numbers. and are quick to go from casual texting to organising another time to meet up. including a cafe trip and an unexpected ice creamery visit.

warnings: fluff, swearing, minor mentions of alcohol, nothing too heavy, just our lovely italyrry who is the sweetest ever.

a/n: thank you all so so much for the incredible amount of support on the first part of this official series. and also for your patience in waiting for me to hurry up and post an update. i know it’s been like 2 weeks since the first part, but I really wanted to give you something i took my time working on <3

———

There’s a certain type of disbelief that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s the kind that you feel straight to your core. That randomly dumps on you during the day like a bucket of water, and leaves your head spinning like that very bucket came crashing down with it.

It happens in a single moment, but lingers for a long time after the fact.

That’s exactly how you felt after harry texted you first. Because not even a few hours later after you’d exchanged numbers, he sent you through, not only a message, but a photo of all things.

One that made your heart swell with its endearing qualities.

A photo of a plate, filled with the food you’d told him earlier that day was one of your favourites.

Sent with a further little message below it,

Your favourite is currently up for grabs at the family gathering. H

The way he’d signed his intial off at the bottom had you nearly throw your phone across the room at how adorable it was.

Like as if you didn’t even know who you were texting.

Again it strewn your thought— is he aware the kind of mental effect this is having on you? Because you’re borderline going to need to phone for an ambulance.

You’re a simple person. A fangirl, to say the least. This shit, despite being able to say ‘I’ve met and talked with Harry Styles for more than 10 minutes’ does not just disappear.

And you had promised yourself not to tell anyone that this had happened— or was happening? Because there would be nothing worse than this somehow ending up online.

And not to treat him like a flighty deer instead of a grown man, but you would hate for that to place a kind of distrust in his hands.

However, all of that self-agreement doesn’t take away the nagging voice in your head that just wants to tell at the very least your immediate friends and family.

But you’re proud to say— after a long 2 minutes of pacing around your hotel room— you manage to craft a reply back.

Well, only after a few rough and undeniably embarrassing drafts that quickly get deleted out of the text bar.

You’re back to sitting on the floor against the bed frame, facing the window looking out on the gorgeous colours of the evening Italian sky.

Heart pounding, and you’re sure this scene from a third person perspective would look like it was pulled from a hallmark movie.

Girl fawning over man’s simple text. Kicking her feet in the glow of Italian sun, with a glass of wine on the floor next to her.

You stared at your finalised message and decided if you didn’t send it now, you would spiral into a never ending pit of doubt. And just end up overthinking the whole thing.

So you just did it. And now on the screen, under his blue message, was your own grey one.

there’s no way. it looks so good! im gonna see if it’s on my room service menu tbh. consider me inspired.

You bit your knuckles. Acting up like a fucking teenager. Waiting for the shock to subside before you actually get up to find the hotel menu.

After you replied back, you were sweating, honestly. Anxious at the fact you had just sent a text to Harry Styles. And unlike a conversation, that shit is permanent. So too bad if it comes off embarrassing.

Which of course, it didn’t on his end. Unbeknownst to you, he almost physically gleamed at sight of your name on his screen for the first time.

You’d nearly dropped your glass of wine when your phone vibrated up on the counter of the hotels kitchen where it was charging.

It’d been about half an hour from when you replied, you’d since ordered room service and sat in your bed to watch tv.

You made sure to place your glass elsewhere as you ran over to grab your phone.

If it wasn’t already all gone I’d save you some. Any luck with the room service?

You’d replied back swiftly, disregarding any kind of waiting to text back rule. You were all too eager to wait.

i managed to score some up from the room service. didn’t look as appetising as yours, but it was still enjoyed. x

And at this, he smiled, looking at the Italian sunset as he thought of you with a curiosity he recognised as all too unhealthy.

———

If you had told yourself two days ago in that cafe, that you have had several full conversations with harry after getting his number… you probably would have laughed.

Yet its not a joke of any kind. You can pinch yourself over and over again looking at those texts, but all you’ll end up with is a bruise and they will be just as real.

But as you read over the most recently received one, pinching would have not been enough of a reality check.

Maybe a frying pan? Probably would do the trick.

You scanned over his words, rubbing your eyes like you were tired and seeing shit— even though you’d been awake since 9am, which was 2 hours ago.

Unless you have plans, I’m going to try this cafe a friend recommended me a while back, if you wanted to tag along?

[ 1 attachment link]

And there’s simply no way that this is happening? But after 30 seconds without a follow up text telling you he’s accidentally sent this to the wrong person, you sit up straight.

Well, you’re not about to ask him if he’s serious right now, so you channel every fibre of casualness left within you and use it to construct a response.

id love to! I’ll get ready to go soon if you want to meet there before 12:30?

That works perfectly. did you need a lift, or are you in walking distance. I can pick you up if you need.

You almost keel over at his offer, and the absolute gentleman move he just made.

You also realise you didn’t even look where the cafe was. Because if Harry Styles asks you to go somewhere with him the answer should always be yes. Figure out the means of getting there and back later.

Either way you open the link and get taken to google maps, and the cafe in question is literally a 10 minute walk away from you.

im in walking distance, it’s about 10 minutes away. so I’ll just make my way there at about 12:15! thank you for the lovely offer though.

And you move as quickly as possible from your bed to your suitcase, ready to tear that thing apart for an outfit.

You don’t want to be over the top, but you have to go with something on the shorter side because it’s already in the high 20’s and it’s not even afternoon yet. So you lug out the many summer dresses you crammed in there, hoping that one of them will strike your interest.

Some get tossed back into your bag as you filter through them, not making the cut for a variety of reasons— like showing too much of your cleavage.

Yea, a good few of them get ruled out for that reason.

But eventually— and thank god, because you were starting to loose hope— you find one that is perfect for the occasion. It’s all types of flowy and comfortable, but still maintains the pretty connotation that summer dresses are known for.

Before putting it on, you go into the bathroom and do your morning routine— fixing your hair as a final step, but deciding to leave it out since there is hardly any wind outside to make it a mess. Plus it will suit the dress.

You somehow managed to take long enough that the next time you look at your phone you realise it’s nearing 12:15pm a lot faster than you expected. So you hustle to get the rest of your shit together, and make your way out the door.

The walk there is as peaceful as you could imagine, just the sounds of chatter from passer-by’s and birds lingering in trees dotting the sidewalk.

But on the inside you are still panicking. The last time you’d meet him in a cafe was a total surprise. This time it’s planned, and that leaves too much room for your brain to overthink it.

As you finally push through the doors of the cafe you had found your way to, a tiny bell above jingles. But you’re hardly focused on it as you look to the front counter.

Seeing the exact person you were here for already grabbing two drinks from a barista at what you can only assume is a pickup counter.

As he spins around, he catches your momentary surprise, complimented by flushed cheeks. To this he smiles and nods you over with his head.

He looked excited to see you. Like a longtime pair of friends meeting up again after a while apart.

Your feet kick back into gear at his nod, following him over to a table that’s tucked into the corner. He had his pleasing bag slung across the top of the chair.

“Hi lovely,” he says the minute you’re close enough to hear his deep voice.

“Hi Harry.” You smile, heart still beating too fast. The words feeling different as they get spoken from your mouth.

He walks the few steps around the table, closing the gap still between you— and he doesn’t wait for you to hug him, he just pulls you straight into the warmth of his arms.

Wrapping you up in a way that you can smell the cologne lingering on the dip of his neck into his shoulder.

His accent is muffled by your hair as he talks gently, “how’ve you been?”

The common question has your head reeling. In its simplicity is still sweetness.

You pull back, his eyes training on yours, looking keenly at you, awaiting an answer from your almost shy lips.

“I— yes, I’ve been really good thank you.” You nod, how could you not be? Look where your standing, who you’re standing with.

“What about you…?” You ask, watching as the corners of his pink mouth upturn.

He’s freshly shaven, you notice, and your fingers twitch with the need to glide over the smooth skin of his cheek.

You resist as he answers, still relatively closer than you should be out in a public place.

“I’m doing well, even better now.” He raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin coming on his face.

He revels in blood that rushes into your cheeks, reddening them up like you’ve just run a mile.

“Oh, stop it. You’re a bloody flirt.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to play it off, and you also take a step back to seat yourself in the chair at the table he’d picked.

Maybe he was a flirt at most times. But from his perspective, with you in a dress like that? Not to sound like he’s drawing on the one direction lyrics, but as if you don’t know you’re beautiful.

I mean, sure, he thinks you’re aware that you’re pretty. But in the way it’s working him up, you seem to be clueless.

Because he’s almost stumbling on his words at the sight of you, soft fabric flowing seamlessly over your tan skin, cutting off above your knees leaving him with thoughts that he should not be having in a public space.

But at the same time, he tries to convince himself it’s nothing but a wholesome coincidental friendship. Even though if at any point tabloids get a hold of this, it will be very very far from that.

You’re watching as he looks a little caught up in thought, and you chuckle at it.

The sweet noise breaks him out of it, and he’s grateful for that. It was a rabbit hole he was happy to just not go down right now.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs, going over to his own seat.

“Now, i need the full story of what happened with your friends luggage at the Singapore airport?”

You let out a laugh, a little surprised he even remembers to bring it up. You had been texting about travel, and told him the time your friend had her luggage lost in a layover between Singapore and London last month.

“I mean, where did it leave it off?” You had explained a partial amount of the story. But told him, if you’d planned another cafe trip it would be a lot easier to explain the ins and outs.

And he was overly excited to watch you tell the tale. Watch the way your hands moved as you animatedly told the story, and the way your eyes get a little lost in thought.

He caught tiny glimpses of it the first time you’d met, but he craved to watch it happen in full. Among other things.

You told him how you’d had 12 hour layover, but that you guys didn’t want to book a hotel since they were so expensive. But you were still meant to collect your luggage— and everyone else but your friend Bonnie got it back.

“She’s Scottish, crazy red hair and she is like a fire cracker. She was actually at the last show, in the front with us, but anyway— so she’s running around Singapore airport accosting all the staff with her stressed out and angry Scottish accent.”

You went back and forth with the many fuck arounds of that day, how you went from halfway across the airport to a misplaced baggage unit per a staffs advice, only for the lady at the front desk to say it wasn’t there— and to go back to the support centre.

“It was not funny at the time,” you said, “but fuck, looking back now it’s pretty good. And it makes a fun story to tell.”

“So where did she actually get her stuff back?” He asks, frowning with a curious smile.

“Oh, like 6 hours after we originally got off the plan. They’d told us to wait up at that little customer support place and after like another hour and a half, some really frazzled guy came running up with it.”

And you laughed at the image in your head, sweaty and looked terrified he’d gotten the wrong bag, “We asked where it had gotten lost, but he just asked if it was certainly ours, then when we said yes he nodded and practically ran the other way.”

Harry was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“God, is that quite a story.”

“See why I said texting it would have been way too hard.” You amend, reaching for the deserted cup of tea you hadn’t even drank out of yet, taking a sip.

Exactly how you like it, and you smile. Watching him watch you drink it.

“Just how you like it, yea?” He asks to confirm. But also lost a little in the way the liquid seamlessly travels from the cup down your throat.

“Yea, perfect.” You nod, clutching the warm cup between your hands, tongue swiping out over your lips.

“Anyways, what about your own crazy travel stories. Since you’ve done plenty of it.” You prompt, unaware of his remaining gaze.

The afternoon went of just like that. Telling stories and sharing funny little anecdotes that had you laughing so hard that tears were about to spill from your waterline.

You slowly forget that it’s Harry Styles you’re sitting with. And of course that sounds weird. But it’s like there came a certain point in the afternoon where he just became simply Harry.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It had been a rather long time you sat in that same cafe with him. So much that the chairs, originally very comfortable, had started to become the opposite as time flew on.

“Are these chairs starting to hurt your ass too?” He asks, humour lacing his tone as he watches you adjust yourself in the chair for the third time in the last 10 minutes.

“Yea, the metal seats are lowkey not it.” At this he laughs, the way you word things somehow being more entertaining than most.

“Well, cmon, I already paid, we can go for a walk if you want?” He rises from his place, and you’ve never stood up quicker.

“Braving the Italian sun at its very brightest are we?” You joke, smiling as he grabs his bag and slings it over one of his broad shoulders.

“Could be a big regret, could also be very scenic.” He says as you grab both your empty cups.

“I forgot to put sunscreen on as well, so might have a different colour forehead to the rest of my body but… oh well.” he shurgs, following you over to the small bin by the cafe door.

You’re immediately thinking of the time he went to a show after going out golfing and he had a sunburnt head.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” And it takes you by surprise that the teasing words made it out of your mouth.

Yet, he seems happily indifferent to it, like it’s of course something you’d know, “Whatever you.”

Your laughing at his response as you hold the door open for him, exiting the cafe into the heat.

A tortured sigh is let out of you both at the swelter of it. The concrete pavement doing nothing but intensify it.

“I underestimate the weather every day here, I’m wearing too many layers of clothing to be dealing with this.”

“Take your hoodie off you dolt.”

He usually keeps layers on so that his tattoos are less visible. Since they’re often a dead giveaway of who he is. So his hands hesitates as they slip to the hem of his jumper.

“Don’t tell me you went out with just a jumper on, no other layers. In Italy?” You shake your head, still smiling as you slowly walk into the shaded part of the sidewalk.

“No— I did.” He laughs, “just m’tattoos usually garner some attention.”

He clarifies, “that sounded really egotistical, not the tattoos themselves, I meant people recognise me easier when they’re out.”

“Oh!” You stumble a little in your thought process. Feeling a little silly for not realising.

“I kind of like… forgot?” You say, coming to a stop as he eventually succumbs to the heat and peels the jumper over his head. Folding it up and popping it into his bag, glancing at you with a tiny breathe of relief at his new found ventilation. Hands moving to tousle with his hair in attempt to flatten it after pulling the jumper over it.

“I mean, i did. too honestly.” He agrees, continuing to walk forward.

You read into that a million different ways. But he makes sure you don’t get confused, “Y/N, don’t look so worried. I just mean you’re a very easy person to get… i dunno, lost in.”

Oh okay? How does one just casually continue putting one foot in front of the other after someone says something like that?

“You flatter me too much.” You roll your eyes, still as awful as ever at masking your shock or adoration for something someone’s said.

“Cmon, you’re just too humble i think.” He bumps you with his shoulder.

You’re laughing at him. But stop dead in your tracks as you stop something across the road.

“H.” You say, and he also comes to a halt. Taking a moment to process your use of his nickname. Like the way it so gently came from you.

Yet you sound almost dire, so he’s looking over where you are, scanning the sunny street for something that could possibly concern you?

For a moment he thinks it may be paparazzi, but this side of town is usually much better in regards to that.

He feels protective of you, “What? Are you okay?”

“There’s ice cream over there.” You say, hand coming up to cover your mouth a little.

A breath of relief fills his lungs, “i— you made it out like this was a life or death situation about t’unfold.”

Your expression turns to a grin, “no, i just love Italian ice creameries!”

“Can we please go and get some?” You glance back to him, and his own smile widens at your face. Gleaming with this unfiltered excitement over something so simplistic.

“Of course we can.” And you’re immediately grabbing his wrist to tug him across the road towards the shop.

“As if I could say no to you, anyway.” He laughs as he keeps up with your quick pace, clearly on a mission.

Once inside the store, with its pink and mint coloured walls and decor, you move to look at the collection of flavours.

The staples such as vanilla and strawberry, but then a small selection of more slightly diverse ones, like peanut butter brownie or salted caramel.

Their cookie dough ice cream looks amazing though, filled with chocolatey chunks of cookie. So you decide relatively fast that’s what you want.

And then you turn to Harry, whose eyes are still darting between flavours indecisively.

“What one do you want?” You ask, and he adverts his eyes to you.

“No I’ll order.” He shakes his head.

“No-no. Let me get this for you, please.” He goes to protest and you nudge him with your elbow, “don’t be stubborn. I want to get you something.”

“I— fine. But know you’re just as pushy as i am.” He scoffs with a laugh.

“I’ll get… maybe chocolate?” He points to it, and you nod.

The older lady at the counter is overly lovely, and you’re rattling off your order to her with a beaming smile.

Harry watches your interaction with her, and how you take a moment to compliment the heart covered apron she was wearing.

His heart trips over it’s own rhythm at the sight.

You pays and he still feels a little guilty, but figures he can make it up to you next time they go out by getting you a cookie or two with your tea.

You come back to his side with the two cones, stacked two scoops tall, and hand one to him.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to though.”

“It’s fine, Harry. Do you wanna find somewhere outside to sit?” You ask, turning to wave at the lady who served you as your slowly exiting the shop.

“Sure, i saw that little bench under a tree a couple shops down near that park.” He nods, taking his turn to lead the way there.

You shortly find the way there, sitting yourselves down on it, looking out onto a small playground with some kids swinging on monkey bars and sliding down the slide.

“Italian ice cream will forever be the best kind of ice cream.” You sigh out with pleasure, licking over the cool scoop.

He unwittingly is blushing at the sight, suddenly batting away mental images at the sight of your pink tongue jutting out of your mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushes them aside. “Definitely. You can tell it’s handmade.”

He busies his own tongue on his own ice cream, only stealing occasional glances to you at his side.

But he can’t help but tilt his cone to you, “Wanna try the chocolate?”

His offer comes as the equivalent of a brick to the head, but you’re invested in making yourself not seem psychotic.

So you nod nonchalantly, “i will, but I have a feeling that’s just because you want some of mine.”

“Mm, maybe I do a little.” He agrees, but any other coherent thought dies where it was in his head at you leaning over to his own cone. Your tongue running over the ice cream, collecting up its sweet residue.

You nod, “That’s so good.” Acting like you’ve got a normal internal monologue right now. Even though she’s hurling things at you that you can’t all process in such a short flash of time.

You just put your mouth where his has been! He is about to do the same thing! His eyes look a little blown out! What the fuck!

Pretty much what it sounds like up there, along with some alarm bells and screaming.

However you just gesture your cone to him, taking mental images of him mirroring what you did just before.

He hums a sound of enjoyment as he pulls back, glancing up at you, pinning you with his green gaze. “Good choice.”

You agree with a slight mumble, shaking your head momentarily to clear your thoughts. Ready to change the subject so you can internally recollect yourself.

“I only regret sitting out here since it’s melting so fucking fast.”

“I know,” he also settles quickly back into the normality of the moment, “i cant eat it quicker than the rate it’s melting.”

“It’s cold though, which is at least a win.”

Conversation trails on as normal while you finish off the ice cream. Discussing if biting the bottom off an ice cream cone is normal or not.

And before you know it you check your phone when you get a text from your mum, asking what time you’re able to call tonight.

She misses you heaps, you can tell. But despite the timezone difference you are making it work.

You also glance up at the time and realise it’s nearing 4pm. And you have just spent majority of the afternoon with Harry.

You also realise you’d agreed to have dinner with all of your friends in one of their hotel rooms tonight.

“Seems like it’s my turn to have to be the one to bail.” You say, popping your phone in your back pocket and looking back at Harry.

“That’s okay, love, what’s the plans for the evening.”

You explain that you’ll go over the the girls hotel room and probably just eat pizza, and then go back to your own room and call your mum for a bit.

He feels a little sad you even have to leave, which is odd, but he nods anyway, “That sounds fun. Solid plan.”

You reluctantly rise from your seat next to him. “So…” you take a tiny breath in, “am I the one picking the next cafe we go to?”

He beams internally at the fact you’re also trying to plan the next time you’re able to meet up with each other.

“I reckon so, Angel.” He stands as well, “I’m good for any day.”

Any plans he has can be rearranged for you.

“Alright!” You feel better immediately knowing you can see him again soon.

“Thanks for the ice cream too, by the way.” He says, walking back over to the pathway with you.

“It’s okay.” You smile, nervously being the one to give him a goodbye hug. A small flutter erupts in your stomach as his hands pull you flush to him around your lower back.

“I’ll see you soon, mkay?”

“Yea. Ill talk to you later.” You remind yourself that he’s easily accessible to talk to. You literally have his number.

“Bye H.” You give him a squeeze, pulling away with a smile, “Bye Y/N.” And you wave as you start the walk back to your hotel. Plenty of things to think about.

———

“Did you guys see the supposed pics of harry today on harryflorals? He was hanging out with someone apparently!” Nina asks everyone.

Only two of you hadn’t, including yourself.

She passes the phone first to you, and you frown.

“I know, looks like it’s taken on a potato.” She says, assuming your furrowed brows are due to the fact the image is really hard to get anything from.

Unless you know that park bench he’s ‘allegedly’ sitting on. And that the blurry figure next to him is almost certainly you— but no one else can tell.

“Yea… shit that is…” You pause, brain freezing a little, “bad quality.”

You hand her phone back. But caption of the post still festering in your head long after the moment is over.

HARRY *SUPPOSEDLY* WITH A GIRL IN ITALY TODAY! but this is the only pic we got 💔

———

ahh and that’s part two! I hope you guys are enjoying this, and I’m so excited to write more about these two. cant wait for you to see what’s in store for them.

thank you again for your patience while waiting for this second part, and to all the lovely people who requested this oneshot to be made into something more.

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @lquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

835 notes · View notes

navstuffs · 1 year ago

Text

Heart to-go

Pairing: RE2Barista!Leon x GN!Reader

Summary: You hate coffee. Of course with your luck, you end up falling in love with a cute blushing barista.

Warnings: COFFEE SHOP AU, SUPER FLUFF, blushing leon, tooth-rotting fanfic, reader DOES NOT like coffee (i could never), reader/leon are clueless and shy, sabrina and gabriel are names used in this fic, image taken from google

Author's Notes: hey, im back (sorta?kinda?). i had this fanfic saved for a while and since i haven't been able to produce new material, i decided to edit and post some of my old drafts. i plan on posting the other coffee shop au - nsfw version, but from now i hope you enjoy reading this one!

If someone told you before that you would visit a coffee shop and actually order the same cup of coffee every day, you would laugh at their faces. You don't like coffee, period. There is something about the smell or taste you just don't like it. Warm, cold, sweet, unsweet, with chocolate, you tried it all. It just isn't your thing, which made some people look at you as an E.T. sometimes, but hey, to each its own, right?

Your co-worker Sabrina is the one who invites you out to a popular coffee shop nearby your work. Before you even attempt to say no, Sabrina explains that yes, there were other drink options and some delicious pastries, like "some of the best brownies" she had eaten her entire life.

So you agree, with the promise you wouldn't regret it.

There is no line when you enter, around 5 pm. You pass this coffee shop often going to work, the smell strong in your nose if the door is open. You never entered, of course, but now inside, you must admit it looked cozy. A lot of natural light comes from the big windows in the front, illuminating the entire space. There are tables and chairs, at this time empty, compared to how full and hectic they could get in the morning.

As Sabrina orders her long order, your eyes wander the menu, written behind the counter on a giant blackboard. They had other options, as Sabrina explained before, such as handmade Italian sodas and some juices. When Sabrina is done, you turn your attention to the very attractive cashier. The kind you see on the cover of magazines, like a model or something. And cute. He has innocent blue eyes, a soft face, and blonde hair under the black cap. Your eyes glimpse at his name tag, "Leon," as he waits for your order.

"What do you want?"

And the words come out of your mouth before you can even think, something you would never have ordered in a million years.

"A coffee?"

You can feel Sabrina's neck twist, shocked. You ignore her, ignore how your voice went two higher tones than it should, focused on Leon, who continues smiling, patiently waiting for the rest.

"Sure, which one?"

"Coffee?" Your eyes roam around the many, many names and sizes as if you know what all those names mean, and you decide to risk it all. "How about your favorite order?"

Leon's eyes widen briefly before a faint red tone rises to his cheeks. He chuckles, surprised, before placing the order on the computer.

"Right, okay then, my favorite order. Anything else?"

"Nothing, that will be it."

You pay your bill without looking up. Sabrina looks semi-concerned and amused when you are done ordering, a strange smile on her face.

"Are you okay?"

"I panicked," You whisper, hoping Leon can't hear the panic in your voice as you pull her to a table before she can start asking more questions.

You sit to wait for your order, and you notice Leon and another young blonde lady behind the counter. He seems to be blushing about something she says, and you wonder if that wasn't the most adorable thing you've ever seen.

"You are staring," Sabrina warns, her voice denoting humor. Why does it sound like Sabrina is having fun with your misery? You look out the window to the traffic slowing down since it is the end of the afternoon. When your order finally arrives, you turn excited, expecting to see Leon but being greeted by Ashley's happy face.

"Enjoy!" Ashley exclaims before leaving. You grab your small cup of warm coffee with a top layer of foam on it. It smells like cinnamon and vanilla. You really, really don't want to drink it.

"Careful now, Leon is watching," Sabrina teases, making you turn to look for Leon. He is indeed staring at you, his blue eyes filled with expectation. When he catches you looking, he turns his face away, a deep blush on his cheeks, too focused on cleaning something behind him.

"I can do this." You tell yourself, taking a sip from the cup. Yeap, still bad. Still bad as the first time you tried it. You drink another small sip because Leon could still be watching before placing the cup on the table. "I don't think I can do this." You confess in a whisper to Sabrina, who doesn't answer. She giggles, drinking her coffee as water. She saves you the dignity to not tease you anymore, at least.

Noticing she wouldn't be any help, you take small sips while listening to Sabrina's news. It was easier to drink while she talked so that you could ignore the sour taste in your mouth.

When your cup is finally empty, you sigh in relief. You have done it. You are NOT disappointing any cute blushy barista today. Leon appears at the side of the table, eyes filled with expectation.

"How was it?"

"It was so good. My friend over here loved it, right? Right?" Sabrina smiles happily in your direction. You want to strangle her, but you nod, smirking instead.

"Perfect, Leon. Thank you."

Leon's eyes lock on you, and you stare back, starstruck. No one should be allowed to be this charming. His smile lights up his entire face, making him look even more special. The type you could fall in love with if you aren't careful enough.

"I will get those for you, then," He cleans the table, then leaves, nodding in your direction. When he is out of a safe distance, Sabrina sings low.

"I think he likes you!"

"Shut up, Sabrina!"

-x-

After that, you start to visit the coffee. Daily. You get to meet the rest of the employees: Luis, a handsome man with a captivating smile who constantly flirts with you. You already know Ashley, a young college student who is always excited to see you. And well, there is Leon. It is odd how you click so fast with Luis and Ashley; you could joke with them as much as you wanted, but things worked a little differently when it came to Leon. He made you nervous.

He always welcomes you with a warm smile and treats you with respect. You tried to tease Leon once, but it died in your throat when you watched his expression. He just looked so innocent, you just didn't want him to dislike something you did or said. What if he misinterpreted?

You also continue ordering the same coffee. Your newfound trick to not throw it away? Take it to work and give it to Sabrina. You know you are wasting money, but Leon's smile is worth every cent, especially when you place the money on the counter for "Leon's order". Like one morning, two weeks after your first visit, you enter the shop, and it is Luis at the register.

"Hello, pretty thing. Same order?" Luis asks, winking.

"You know me, Luis, I am loyal."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Luis sighs, pretending to be disappointed. Ashley waves in your direction when she sees you, asking. "Let me guess, another Leon's order to go?"

"You know, it is my dream. One of those days, you will enter those doors and ask 'Can I get Luis's order or maybe Ashley's?" Luis teases, "No, it must always be Leon's order. I have started to wonder why."

"I like his coffee," You whisper in your defense. Luis smiles, knowing exactly what you like. He points to Leon's back, too focused on a coffee maker. "Your boyfriend is waiting."

You show off your tongue, rolling your eyes and going toward Leon. He guides a cup of steaming milk into a to-go cup, almost as if he is drawing. You don't say anything, watching his concentrated face as he finishes. Every inch of his attention to whatever he is drawing. When Leon is done, he turns toward you, opening a smile.

"H-hey. Here it is."

He puts the to-go cup in front of you, uncovered. You find it weird but don't discuss it.

"Morning. Thank you. My favorite, as always." You grab a lid nearby, closing it. Leon seems disappointed but doesn't say anything. You quickly take a sip, holding back a scowl. "Perfect as always, Leon. Thank you. I don't even know where I would be without Leon's every morning... Leon's order, I mean!"

The frown is gone, and Leon smiles timidly, blushing. Of course, you must embarrass yourself in front of him, but honestly, you don't mind. Your mornings always got much better after seeing his smile. You leave the coffee, waving bye to Ashley and Luis. When you are gone, Ashley and Luis surround Leon, too curious.

"Did they see it this time?" Luis wonders.

"No."

"Such a nice person, but so clueless," Ashley sighs, holding her chin. "Maybe you should just try writing your phone number on the cup, it would be more direct."

"Or maybe they don't like me that much..." Leon declares, making his co-workers groan.

"Not this again, Leon."

-x-

Three weeks pass like that. You go in, say hi to Ashley and Luis, get your coffee with Leon, smile at each other, and leave for work. There is some teasing here and there from Ashley and Luis, you tease back, and that is it. You wonder if you should get a different order, but Sabrina seems happy enough with the coffee, you are happy enough to see Leon, so it works.

The next morning, you enter the café to find Ashley organizing a casket of brownies. After greeting each other, you grab one from the basket. So those were the limited edition brownies Sabrina always talked about.

"Hey, Ashley, are those the famous delicious brownies?"

"Yeah. Made by an extraordinary chef, but I can't reveal his identity. It is top secret."

"Can I get one? And also a Le-"

"Leon's order? Yes, yes, I know," She groans, sounding tired. Leon appears from the back office, opening his usual smile when he sees you. You like to think it is your special smile, but it is probably how he smiles at every single client.

"Hey."

"Morning, Leon."

He starts preparing your drink the way he always does. You wonder if Leon is bored or if he can even make it with his eyes closed. Maybe you should ask him if his favorite order has even changed next time? As you watch Leon work, you give a big bite to the brownie. It is delicious. The perfect balance between chocolate and sweetness.

"Ashley, those are so freaking good!" You exclaim, bringing her attention back to you.

"Oh really? Our chef will love to hear that!" Ashley says with a suggestive tone, giving a quick side look to Leon. You finish the brownie in a few bites as Leon puts your cup on the counter, his cheeks painted red. Again your cup is uncovered. You grab the lid and close it. It has become a ritual by now.

"Thanks again, Leon."

When you look up at him, Leon has a different expression in his eyes. He blushes, no more than he usually does, his hand raised. Before you can ask what is wrong, he places his hand over yours on the cup lid. His hand is warm, probably normal for someone working with hot drinks all the time. You don't say anything, waiting. Leon seems to be waiting as well, for you to say anything. Neither of you does, and the moment is broken when the door opens, a huge group of women coming in.

"Sorry, I don't know—"

"Bye!" You rush out of those doors, not looking back.

Well, that was certainly odd, you think. Leon has never touched you before. It seems that he wanted to tell you something, but at the same time, he was waiting for you to say something? When you get to work ten minutes later, the cup still warm in your hands, you search for Sabrina, not finding her. Gabriel, your other co-worker, explains she is sick.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Nasty flu."

"Oh, okay. I will message her later then."

You look at the cup in your hands to her empty table before asking Gabriel.

"Hey, do you want some coffee?"

"Free? Don't mind if I do! What has on it?"

"I guess coffee, milk, cinnamon? I don't really know."

"You don't know?" Gabriel asks, grabbing the cup from you. "You don't know what is in your cup? Here, let me smell it, I have an excellent sense of smell." He opens the lid to smell it and exclaims, "Awn, this is cute."

"What?"

"The heart."

"What heart?"

Gabriel carefully gets the cup to show you a heart drawing on top. You want to hit yourself in the head; is that what Leon has been doing? That's why he held your hand this morning to show the heart? No, it couldn't be. When Gabriel starts taking the cup to his mouth, you pull the cup back, placing the lid.

"Sorry, Gabriel, gotta go! I will return with another one!"

You rush back to the store, holding the cup firmly. Maybe, just maybe, Leon has been drawing those for you only, and you always close the lid? Maybe this is what he was trying to tell you this morning. What if Leon draws a heart for everyone? Shouldn't you be paying for that? What if—? No, no time to think of that. Perhaps this is your chance. You enter the shop, gasping for air. Ashley is nowhere around, and Leon is dusting around the table. When he sees you, his brows furrow, but he doesn't hesitate to get close to you.

"Are you okay? Something wrong?" Leon sounds concerned, his eyes scanning you.

You try to speak, still catching your breath. You pull the lid, triumphant.

"What does this mean?"

When you two look at the cup, the drawing is gone. There is just a mess of brown liquid, smelling like vanilla and cinnamon. You can't believe it. You turn to Leon, pointing at the cup and him, your mouth opening and closing.

"Have you been drawing hearts in my cup this whole time?"

"I have." He admits, blushing.

"Thanks?" Jeez, you couldn't come with something better. Leon nods as if understanding before starting to turn away. "No, wait, please, I mean, I like them. A lot."

His face lights up, and you wonder how someone can look so adorable. It is so unfair for you poor heart.

"Tha-that's good, then. I was wondering when you would see them."

"Well, 'cause the lady who drinks my coffee doesn't open the cups!" You try to explain to him, biting your tongue. Leon waits, confused. "Yeah, I don't like coffee," You finally confess your secret somberly, like a sinner talking to a priest.

"So wait. You don't like coffee and keep ordering it? Why?"

Well, now it is your turn to feel your face burning. Realization passes through Leon's face, and he starts stuttering something before three older ladies walk in, going directly to the cashier. He grabs your cup, his heart thumping as he rushes to write something. When Leon gives you back, you see his number written in black ink.

"Ca-can we discuss this better later tonight? If you want to, of course," Leon asks. You nod. "Then you can tell me all about your hate for coffee."

"I would love to."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy fluff #am i happy with this? not entirely. but i laughed a lot writing this so this has to count for something

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hyperfanfictions · 2 months ago

Text

So since AO3 is still down for me and won't be back until 11:45 PM..

I'm posting the marware fic here! I may as well repurpose this blog again for general fics anyway

Fic under cut(its marware)

Mario hummed happily as he strolled through the forest leading to Puzzles’ studio, humming his iconic theme song and, when that one was finished, the Puzzlevision theme song. He was just as happy as ever; He had finally recovered from some awful injuries and was free to do what he liked without concern! And of course, he was going to celebrate by kissing his TV headed boyfriend.

As he approached the studio and raised his hand to knock on the door, Puzzles opened the door and lifted him up excitedly, spinning around with the Italian in his arms as he laughed. Mario laughed along with him despite being confused.

When they finally stopped spinning, Puzzles placed Mario back onto the ground and held out a letter to the Italian, grinning excitedly. Mario noticed that the letter’s wax seal resembled the one they saw on a gala invitation a few months back. “Amore, what's this?” He asked, still smiling. Puzzles waved his hands excitedly, his screen flickering as his smile grew wider. Mario, realizing he probably wasn't going to get an answer, took the letter and tore it open, pulling out a neatly written invitation.

“Dear Mr. Puzzles, the Truffle Kingdom formally invites you to the coronation party of the newly appointed Queen Alyssa. You and your potential consort will be esteemed guests of her majesty and will be greeted formally by her.” The letter continued to list activities and options in the buffet, to which Mario closed the paper and looked up at Puzzles in shock. “Another ball?”

“We're esteemed guests! Isn't that amazing?!” Puzzles squealed, standing up and waving his hands excitedly. His antennae vibrated rapidly with his excitement, and Mario smiled. “It is awesome! I wonder if the others were invited too...” Mario looked out the forest curiously, and Puzzles quickly lifted him into his arms bridal-style. Mario blinked as his face turned as red as his sweater. “Uh-”

“Let's go find out!” With that, Puzzles burst running, the flustered Italian in his arms.

SMG4 looked over the invitation Meggy handed him with intrigue. The wax seal resembled the one on the previous invitation, as well as the handwriting being just as neat as before. SMG3 had already begun reading Tari’s invite, and a wide grin was spreading across his face. “You hear that, Four? We’re esteemed guests.”

“So I've heard.” Four replied, opening the invite to read it himself. Before he could actually cut the paper, however, Puzzles kicked open the door to the castle, carrying a very red Mario in his arms like a bride. Meggy and Three immediately burst into laughter at the sight of a stupidly grinning adware and flustered Italian, as if they swapped personalities. Tari clasped her hands together and awed, while Four simply scowled and rolled his eyes as he opened the invitation.

Puzzles giddily walked into the castle and set Mario down, to which the Italian breathed a sigh of relief. Meggy snickered. “Did he carry you all the way here?”

“Yes. He also ran here, so that didn't help, heh.” Mario chuckled as he fixed himself, standing up straight as he brushed off his overalls. “Did you guys get an invitation too?” He asked, turning towards Meggy as he fixed his hair. Meggy nodded and pointed to Tari and Puzzles, who were bouncing up and down in excitement. “Tari and Four got theirs earlier today, and we only just opened them. Did Puzzles get his?”

“Yep! Barely got a chance to knock on the door when he burst out and spun me around, hah!” Mario laughed, and Meggy chuckled. Four rolled his eyes and turned towards Three, who was watching Tari and Puzzles plan out outfits. “What’s up, dude?” He asked as Four approached him. Four held up the invitation. “3 days doesn’t seem like much time to prepare for a ball, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s plenty. We’ve got two days to shop for clothes, and after that, 12 hours max to do makeup!”

“... Are you going to wear makeup to the ball?” Four asked, blinking in confusion. Three gestured to his eyes, which had a faint purple eyeshadow on the lid. “I wear makeup all the time dude. It’s just not noticeable most of the time. I am so stepping it up for this dance.” Three laughed triumphantly while Four sighed, folding the invitation and setting it on the counter. Puzzles crouched to the ground to Tari’s level as Tari waved her hands excitedly. “Okay okay okay! So- Outfit ideas. Go.”

“I’m thinking a navy blue suit?”

“Ooh, great! It would be nice to add some color to your grayscale ass, no offense.”

“None taken! Will you wear the same dress as last time?”

“Probably not, it’s weird to wear the same dress twice. I did really like those veiled sleeves though, even if they kept getting caught in the crooks of my arm.” Tari giggled as she flapped her hands up and down in excitement, and Puzzles soon joined her, the expression on his screen grinning. Mario watched with a lovestruck gaze, his hand to his cheek as he smiled at the two. Meggy elbowed him as she snickered. “You looove him~” She teased, and Mario looked at her strangely. “We’ve been dating for 6 months, most of that time being behind y’alls backs.”

“I know, heheheh.” Meggy giggled, and Mario rolled his eyes with a smile.

Suddenly, Tari and Puzzles approached the two with wide grins, Four and Three being dragged behind them. Four’s expression was sour while Three’s was grinning. Mario and Meggy looked up at them in confusion. Tari grabbed Meggy’s arm and giggled. “We’re going shopping!”

“Wuh-”

Mario felt himself be lifted and slung over the adware’s shoulder, and Puzzles began to hum his theme song as he walked out the door, dragging behind him a wheezing Three. Tari soon followed after them, dragging Meggy and Four with her.

The Kohls was a messy place to buy suits, but it was cheap.

Four and Three browsed the vests as they talked, while Puzzles gave advice to Tari on dresses she found nice. Mario had to be held back by Meggy as they browsed the dress shirts. As Tari pushed aside a flowery sundress, her gaze locked onto a golden yellow dress with scattered sequins, the sleeves veiled and the skirt poofy and long. Tari snatched the dress from the hanger and held it before her, pressing it to her chest to allow Puzzles to see it. “Wow! What a gorgeous dress.”

“And it's got the sleeves I like! Ain't that neat?” Tari smiled, her expression beaming like sunlight. Puzzles smiled and lifted the cloth of the skirt, feeling the sequins and the petticoat underneath. “Yellow is certainly an odd color to go with, but if it makes you happy...”

“Yes! Yes, it does!”

“Okay, okay!” Puzzles grabbed her shoulders and turned her around as he stood up, his screen flickering as he switched to a calm expression. “Why don't you go show Meggy your choice. I'll see if I can help Four and Three out.”

“Okay! Ha ha!” Tari burst running through the aisle as she ran towards Meggy and Mario, flaunting the dress she chose. Puzzles smiled and walked over to Three and Four, who were arguing over colors.

“I'm telling you, wearing any color besides blue would work on you!” Three proposed, holding up a yellow vest. Four scoffed. “I'm not against that idea, but fucking yellow?!”

“If you're looking for a color then may I propose mahogany instead?” Puzzles reached between the two and pulled out a deep red vest instead. Four narrowed his eyes to the idea, but after staring at the vest for a moment, he took the vest and held it onto his body. Three grinned and snapped his fingers. “See! You look good when it isn't blue.”

“Fuck you.” Four glared at the guardian in front of him before looking at Puzzles. “Why aren't you shopping for something, Mr. Puzzles?”

“I've already got a suit in my studio, heh...” Puzzles fiddled with the knobs on his head as a sweet smile filled his screen. Four scoffed and turned towards the vests again before pulling out a magenta vest. “Well if I'm wearing red, then you're going to wear pink.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Actually, I feel green would better fit with your purple aesthetic, SMG3. They are complimentary colors!”

“You did not just say ‘aesthetic’ unironically.” Three teased, and Puzzles rolled his eyes. “I say many words unironically, SMG3.”

“Yeah, but it's still fucking funny.” Three replied, pulling a green vest from the selection. Puzzles chuckled, and Four glared at him. He wasn't used to seeing Three and Puzzles get along like this when they were enemies before. He still didn't like Puzzles hanging around them.

“Puzzles! Mario found something!”

“Huh?”

Puzzles and the guardians turned around to see Meggy showing off a flustered, grinning Italian holding a light orange suit to his body, the lapel decorated with blue and gold sequins. A heartbeat line spread across Puzzles’ screen as he processed a mental image of Mario in that suit, and Three raised his thumbs. “Awesome choice.”

“Huh. Never thought I'd have the image of Mario in a suit in my head.” Four mumbled, slinging the mahogany vest over his arm. Puzzles walked to his lover and cupped his hands around the Italian's face, and Mario chuckled and pushed him away. “Quit it, we're in public!”

“Yeah, save it for the bed!” Meggy teased, and Tari appeared behind her and smacked her in the head. “Be appropriate!”

“Yeah, Megs. This is a dance, not a strip club.” Three responded, earning a glare from Tari and Puzzles while Four just stared at him in disgust. Meggy and Mario burst into hysterical wheezes as Puzzles stood up, groaning. “Meggy, have you at least found a dress?”

“Oh yeah! I found a cool red dress with a gold trim, it looks awesome.”

“Great, grab it so that we can leave.” Puzzles turned around and left the aisle, prompting the others to follow him, with Four noticeably behind.

The days passed without trouble, or at least much of it. Puzzles proved to be much help for the group by helping with their outfits and makeup on the day of the gala, and when the skirt of Tari’s dress tore accidentally, he was quick to fix it up.

Tari heaved a sigh of relief as Puzzles released her skirt. “Thank you so much, Puzzles. We don't give you enough credit for how much you've helped us.”

“It's no problem!” Puzzles replied, placing the small kit of supplies he had on the kitchen counter. Three was sipping a cup of coffee as he tugged at his best, admiring his reflection in the shiny fridge. Meggy raised an eyebrow. “Enjoying yourself, emo?” Three glared at her as he set down his mug. “I'll let you know that I look fucking awesome, Meggy.” Meggy laughed at this response, and Puzzles rolled his eyes. Four entered the kitchen in his green vest and dark trousers, still wearing the brown boots he usually wears. Three stared at him skeptically. “Dude, you’re still wearing those? Put some damn dress shoes on.”

“I forgot to buy some while we were out, SMG3!” Four growled, and Meggy laughed. Four sighed as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, the back of his gloves displaying a Roman 4 similarly to how Three’s had a Roman 3. “Just... Where’s Mario? Is he still upstairs getting ready?”

“I think he is...” Tari replied, fiddling with her hair that Puzzles had curled for her. Puzzles stepped forward slowly. “I could see if he’s okay?”

“Not in my castle.” Four snapped, glaring at Puzzles angrily. Three quickly stepped forward and pushed Four back while Puzzles recoiled, his hands raised in surrender. “Back off, Four! He was just offering to check on Mario.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t want him doing anything weird! We have to leave soon!”

“Get your head out of the gutter, Four.” Meggy remarked snarkily, and Tari giggled. Four glared at the both of them when the group heard footsteps and humming coming from the stairs, and when they all turned around, they saw Mario in his orange suit, a bright white tie around his neck turned off kilter and a variety of pins and buttons lining the lapel with the sequins. His dark trousers were wrinkled to oblivion at his boots, and he wore his iconic red cap like before, but this time, his hair wasn’t frazzled and his mustache wasn’t a mess of hairs under his nose. He put on a stupid grin and Puzzles hummed, brushing past Three and Four to crouch to Mario’s level and kiss his forehead, the electricity tickling his skin. Four rolled his eyes.

“You look amazing, hun.” Puzzles said softly, and Mario began to fix his tie. Puzzles’ screen flickered. “What are you-”

“You’re still terrible at tying a tie. You didn’t bother to learn in the past 3 days?”

Puzzles laughed. Tari and Meggy awed at the couple while Three smiled, meanwhile Four was looking at his gloves to distract himself. God forbid he look at his rival and best friend share a moment.(smh 4)

When Puzzles finally stood up again, his red tie properly fixed, Four looked up again to see the two holding hands. With a scoff, he made for the door, jingling his keys. “Great, now that we’ve got everything ready, let’s go.”

“Oh, hold on.” Puzzles split from the group and ran upstairs, leaving Four to groan loudly. Three raised an eyebrow skeptically. “What is your issue, dude?” He asked, crossing his arms. Meggy turned Mario’s tie so that it was facing forward, and Mario turned it back to the side of his neck. Meggy shrugged and turned back to the door. “I don’t have an issue, I just want to get going already!”

“It sounds like you’re just annoyed with Puzzles grabbing something at the last minute.”

“I am.”

“I’m back!” Puzzles announced, quickly running down the steps again as he slipped something into his suit. Four stared at him strangely as he took Mario’s hand again, smiling. Four narrowed his eyes at the adware suspiciously before opening the door, stepping outside. The sun was just beginning to set over the horizon of the Showgrounds, and the castle shone with a soothing glow in the fading sunlight. The van they approached was a deep purple, signaling it was Three’s.

Three spun his car keys in his fingers before catching them and pressing a button, prompting the van to beep. “Alright, losers, get in! We've got a ball to attend.”

The castle was just as grand as before. The glass-stained windows varied in all the colors of the rainbow, and the lights inside illuminated the streets outside. Nobles and civilians were gathered at the double doors begging to be let in while knights and security kept them away. When the group finally pulled up to the castle, they were confused.

Meggy fiddled with her dress nervously. “What's the hold up?” She asked, fixing her hair. Her dress stretched down to her knees, and had an off hanging shoulder strap. Around her neck were pearls, shiny and glimmering in the light from inside the castle. Puzzles tilted his head sideways. “Perhaps we can ask one of the knights? They will surely have an answer for us, right?”

“Doubt it, but it's worth a shot.” Four replied, running towards the doors and pushing through the group. The others decided to follow him in curiosity. Four tapped the shoulder of a security guardian facing the windows. When the guard turned around, the crew realized it was Swag with a bruised eye. Three’s eyes widened as he tried to hide a smirk. Puzzles stepped forward worriedly. “Swag! Are you alright?” He asked, pointing to the bruise. Swag blinked in confusion before shrugging it off and turning back around, peeking into the windows. “I’m fine, some kid flung a toy car at me. The Queen is inside getting her dress fixed last minute since it tore. She should be out in a few minutes.”

“Why are you here in the first place?” Four asked, watching the nobles at the doors argue with the knights. He found the situation hilarious, though he dared not show it. Swag stared at him skeptically. “I’m a guard here? I was specially hired by her majesty herself to make sure no troublemakers get in.”

“Then I guess Mario and Puzzles aren’t allowed, huh?” Four joked, straining a smile as he glared at Puzzles. Puzzles didn’t seem to notice his glare, however, as he had chosen to occupy himself by plucking flowers from the bushes around the castle and pinning them to Mario’s suit. Four’s smile dropped as he looked back at Swag, who had an eyebrow raised in suspicion. “No... If anything, I’m more worried about you and your partner hoarding the buffet table.” Swag pointed a finger at Three and Four, to which both guardians took offense and the girls burst into a fit of giggles. Puzzles and Mario looked towards the group in confusion, as they had completely left the conversation as soon as Swag said it would be a minute before the doors opened. Puzzles looked towards Mario as he plucked another flower. “What are they giggling about?” He mumbled, tucking it into the lapel of Mario’s suit. Mario shrugged, and the doors to the castle opened.

A lady dressed in a long, purple ball gown stepped out of the castle as the nobles and knights made way for her, the gem of her crown glistening in the moonlight. She looked around for a moment before turning to the SMG4 crew, and she put on a big smile. “My guests! You’ve arrived!”

“We’ve been here for 10 minutes- gah!” Four felt him be pulled forward by the queen as she shook his hand aggressively, a wide grin on her face. Puzzles and Mario returned to the group as she did this, and when she released his hand, she clasped hers together. “I’m so delighted you all could attend! I’m such a fan of your work!”

“Oh! You- You know who we are?” Three asked curiously, and Puzzles perked up. “Have you heard of something called Journey To Stardom, your majesty?”

Queen Alyssa grinned as she turned towards Mr. Puzzles. “Yes! You must be the script writer! Come in, come in!” She grabbed the adware’s hands and dragged him inside, and as the crew and other guests followed, an excited chatter filled the large ballroom.

As Alyssa dragged the group to a corner of the room, a knight positioned himself at her side, his sword in its sheath and his hand at the pommel. Three swallowed nervously as he turned his attention to the bouncing queen. “Thank you so much for coming, I’ve always wanted to meet you in person!”

“Hah, Queen Alyssa, you had the chance to meet us at the last dance.” Four mentioned, and Alyssa nodded. “I did, but I was mostly looking for him, heh!” Alyssa pointed to Puzzles with a smile, and Puzzles flinched. The group turned to him curiously and he chuckled, and Mario, noticing his anxiety, took his hand gently and smiled. “Thanks for inviting us, Queen Alyssa,” He began, offering his other hand out to shake. Queen Alyssa took it and smiled. “It’s an honor to be here, truly. Now if we could enjoy the night...”

“Ah, of course!” Alyssa released Mario’s hand and waved the crew off, grinning. Four and Three immediately wheeled around and burst for the buffet table, while Tari and Meggy followed them to prevent them from swallowing the whole buffet whole. Mario waved goodbye to the queen as he dragged Puzzles away, though instead of rushing towards the buffet table, he opted for a wall instead. Puzzles crouched to the ground as he held his screen. “Oh my god, I fucked up, didn’t I...”

“What are you talking about, you did fine!” Mario reassured, cupping his hands around his lover’s frame. When Puzzles looked up at him, he saw how he had decorated his lover’s suit with a variety of flowers ranging from roses to carnations to lilacs, all from the gardens outside the castle. The way they glistened in the light coming from the chandelier... Oh, he couldn’t not kiss that face. Puzzles’ screen flipped from worry to contempt as he gazed into Mario’s eyes, leaning into his palms. Mario smiled and chuckled, kissing the screen and feeling the fuzz on his lips.

“Hey, lovebirds!” SMG3 shouted from the buffet table, catching the couple’s attention. Three was holding a glass of wine in his hand as he waved them over, while Meggy and Tari were consuming cupcakes by the minute. Four, weirdly enough, had decided not to eat anything from the table, instead opting to brood facing away from it. Mario shrugged off Four’s strange behavior before pulling Puzzles to his feet and approaching the group.

“Enjoying yourselves yet, homosexuals?” Three asked jokingly, poking Puzzles’ screen before his hand was slapped away. Puzzles rolled his eyes as his expression flipped to annoyance, and Mario chuckled. “The night just began, Three, we haven't even done any- Ooh, muffins!” Mario breezed past Three to reach for a yellow-frosted muffin and took a bite, grinning as he did so. Puzzles sighed as he looked at the Italian, a stupid lovestruck grin on his screen. Three elbowed the adware as he chuckled. “He's gonna steal your brain cells, Puzzles. He's a magnet.”

“And I'm made of metal~” Puzzles responded, fiddling with the knobs on his head again. Three paused as he processed the reply, blinking before grinning again. “You sly motherfucker-”

“SMG3.” Four called out for the guardian, frustrated. “Can you do me a favor and grab a glass for me?” Four forced a smile as he looked at Three, and while Three was confused, he complied with Four’s strange request, grabbing another glass from the table and pouring some wine into it. As he walked to Four with his drink, Meggy and Tari walked over to Mario and began to strike up a conversation, which was hard to keep since Mario was stuffing his face.

As Three handed him his drink, Four grabbed his arm and pulled him close, his expression stern. Three yelped as he felt himself be pulled closer, almost dropping the glass onto the checkered floors. “Wha- Dude what the fu-”

“Don't you think Puzzles is planning something?” Four asked, his voice low. Three’s eyes widened in surprise as he processed the question, catching a glance at Puzzles at the other end of the table. He had a smile on his screen and he was fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. Three looked back at Four like he was crazy.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“You saw him earlier tucking something into his suit, right?”

“So? It was probably a phone or something!” Three wrested his arm from Four’s grip, causing the wine in the glass to splash onto both of their suits. The crew looked at them in confusion. Four scoffed and walked away from the group, climbing the stairs to the balconies above. Three looked back at the group and shrugged. Puzzles tilted his head worriedly. “Is he okay? Is Four feeling ill?”

“He's probably just being delusional or some shit.” Three answered, grabbing a napkin from the table and dabbing it against the stain on his vest. “Oh...” Puzzles sighed, gripping Mario's hand.

“I hope he's okay.”

Four grumbled as he wiped his vest, staining his gloves with the wine as he tried to clean his suit. “Stupid fucking... Red wine! Ugh!”

Four groaned and turned towards the balcony, leaning over the fence and looking over the guests that were chattering endlessly. He glanced at his friends, who were huddled by the buffet table and stuffing their mouths full of the many treats and wines that the table offered.

His gaze fell onto Mr. Puzzles, and his eyes narrowed in frustration. He knew he was hiding something. He saw him fiddle with the lapel of his suit, how he tugged at his cuffs, he had a secret. Not to mention just before they left the Showgrounds, Puzzles had to grab something of importance before they left. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Four watched as Puzzles waved goodbye to the others, and with an intrigued expression, watched him approach Queen Alyssa and talk with her for a moment. He saw him lean down to whisper in her ear, and he noticed how her expression became surprised before turning to glee. He watched Puzzles burst towards the stairs to the opposite balcony, where it was empty and devoid of guests and guards. Four’s brow furrowed as he made his way towards that balcony, circling around the path and avoiding being seen by his friends as he slipped upstairs again.

As he snuck up on Puzzles, hiding behind a pillar, he saw the adware pull a small, black box from his suit, staring at it wistfully as if it were an aged photo. Four’s thoughts began to race. What if it was a remote of some sort? A button that if he pressed, he would explode this castle up, or worse, poor Queen Alyssa?! He had to stop him.

As Puzzles began to put away the box, Four lunged at him, knocking him to the ground and the black box sliding across the floor. Puzzles shrieked as he tried to scramble towards it, but Four quickly shoved him and grabbed it out of reach, holding it away from the adware as he stood up. Puzzles’ expression was mortified. “SMG4! W-What are you doing up here?” He asked nervously, his hands twitching nervously. Four glared at him. “Don't start asking me questions, Puzzles! I knew you were hiding something!” He yelled, gripping the box tighter. Puzzles glanced out over the balcony in worry, and upon finding that nobody had heard the telling, sighed in relief. Four’s eyes twitched.

“Listen, Four, I can explain-”

“Can it, cyborg! Why do you have this?! Is it a remote? Did you plant a bomb somewhere in this castle?!”

“No! How would I be able to do that, I've been with the others this whole time!”

“I saw you talk to Queen Alyssa!”

“Ah-” A heartbeat line spread across Puzzles’ screen as he processed this. Four blinked in confusion at this reaction, and he took the chance to look at the box properly. When Puzzles snapped back to reality, he saw Four trying to open the box, and his fans whirred louder and faster than before. “Four, wait-!”

Four popped open the box, and there he saw a golden ring with a square ruby gem, glimmering in the light of the chandelier. Four’s eyes widened in surprise, he wasn't expecting this. When he looked back up at Mr. Puzzles, he saw the adware trying to hide his expression behind his hands, his fans loudly whirring his head and echoing across the hall. Four blinked as he processed the implications.

“You... You were going to propose to Mario tonight?” Four asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. He didn't understand this at all; Why would Puzzles hide this of all things? Was it a love thing? Puzzles nodded sheepishly, his screen visibly red as he tried to hide it. From what Four could see from behind his hands, Puzzles’ expression was embarrassed and flustered. Speaking of his hands, he had only just noticed a silver band on his finger, with a small diamond right in the center. How had Mario not noticed?

Four’s gaze softened as he looked back at the ring he held in his hands. Why did he feel so guilty now? Puzzles was an enemy; He deserved no sympathy.

But... All he had been thinking about tonight was Mr. Puzzles. What about Mario?

They were the ones that were together, after all. Mario loved Puzzles for more than just his tv abilities. He liked his smile, his voice, his haha; Puzzles liked Mario's personality, his confidence, his humor. They were a great pairing, even with the imperfections and odd past. Why couldn't Four see that?

Four sighed as he closed the box and walked back to Mr. Puzzles, pulling his hands from his face and placing the box in his palms. Puzzles’ screen flickered in confusion as his fans lowered in volume. “Do your proposal.” Four commanded, closing his palms as he crossed his arms. Puzzles stood up in surprise. “I-”

“I'm not gonna fight it. Just- Do your thing. I'll go downstairs to watch it and hang out with the others, just...” Four took a deep breath and smiled, watching as a wide grin spread across Puzzles’ screen. “Just go do it, man.”

“Oh, thank you!” Puzzles dropped down and hugged the guardian tight, causing Four to yelp. Four chuckled as he patted the cyborgs back, and after a moment of them hugging, Puzzles pulled away and ran down the steps. Four soon followed after him, aiming for the buffet table and rejoining the group. Three greeted Four casually. “Hey dude. Are you done being crazy, yet?” He asked jokingly, and Four rolled his eyes. Mario offered the guardian a muffin, grinning as he wiped frosting from his lips. Four laughed and took the muffin, unwrapping the plastic cup and taking a bite. Soon, Puzzles returned to the group and took Mario's hand, leading him out to the middle of the ballroom. Tari and Meggy blinked. “What is he doing?” Meggy asked, taking a sip of her wine.

“Beats me.” Three replied, watching as Puzzles kneeled to the floor to be level with the Italian. This wasn’t a strange sight to see with the crew, or anyone in general; Puzzles was extremely tall, and Mario was just over 5 feet tall, so of course, Puzzles would crouch and kneel to have proper conversations with his boyfriend.

A ringing noise echoed across the ballroom, startling all of the guests as everyone turned their attention to Queen Alyssa holding a microphone.

“Attention, guests! Thank you all dearly for attending my coronation party! It is truly an honor to have you all here!” Alyssa beamed with excitement as she bounced slightly up and down, her dress flowing with her movements. “Now, for most of you that attended the last gala that my father held, the schedule is the same; We’ll all gather in the middle of the ballroom and pair up with our partners to do a spin and waltz to end the night! But first...” Alyssa pointed at Puzzles and Mario, directing the crowd's attention to them. “One of our guests had something to say.”

The room fell silent. Some guests began to mumble among themselves, though the crew near the buffet table was silent. “What is going on?” Three asked quietly, glancing at Four. Four shrugged and raised his hands. Puzzles sighed as he took his lover's hands, gripping them tight as he gazed into Mario's eyes lovingly. Mario smiled.

Puzzles took a deep breath. “Mario, you have made me the luckiest, happiest guy in the world. Every experience we've shared, the memories, those endless conversations, I've cherished every single one of them.” Puzzles cupped his palm around the Italian's cheek, and Mario immediately leaned into his hand, grinning as he continued to stare at Puzzles. The adwares fans spun faster. “These past 6 months with you have been a delight. I would never trade you for anything else, 5 stars or otherwise.” Those words stung SMG4 like a bullet. He really thought Puzzles was still looking for fame after all this time, but he was wrong. Despite the sting, Four continued to watch with a smile.

Puzzles pulled his hand away from Mario’s cheek and reached into his suit, rummaging through it before pulling out the black box he had before. Mario's eyes widened slightly as the gears began to turn in his head. “Are you-”

“Mario, my love, my sun, my star, I want to spend every moment with you for the rest of my life, until my fans stop spinning and my heart stops beating.” Puzzles opened the box and revealed the golden ring, prompting the guests, and the crew at the table, to gasp. “Holy fucking shit.” Three mumbled as he uncrossed his arms, setting his glass of wine down on the table before wringing his hands. Tari and Meggy began to squeal with excitement. Four let his smile grow wider.

“Mario...” Puzzles began, taking the ring from the box and shutting it. “Will you... Marry me?” Puzzles hesitated muttering the fateful words, but when he finally got them out, Mario began to bounce up and down. He was smiling from ear to ear, his eyes wide and glimmering with excitement. “Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!!" Mario tackle-hugged the adware in excitement, crying and laughing at the same time as tears welled up in his eyes. Puzzles’ screen flickered at the response before he burst out laughing, scooping up the Italian and spinning him around as they filled the ballroom with their laughter. The crowd of guests burst into cheers and clapping, and Tari and Meggy squealed. “Oh my god!!” Tari explained, grabbing Meggy by the shoulders and shaking her. Meggy laughed as they hugged each other, and Three laughed. “Holy shit, Four, are you seeing this?!” He asked, looking at the guardian. He was surprised to see that Four was smiling at the couple, watching them spin about. “Yeah, I am seeing it. And for once...”

“I don't feel angry to see it.”

The dance came to a close, the music ending on a high note as the crowd dispersed. Puzzles and Mario immediately dashed towards the buffet table, where Tari and Meggy greeted them with open arms. Mario tackled Meggy excitedly, the two squeezing each other as they squealed. Tari bounced up and down as she stared at the ring on Puzzles’ finger, admiring the gem that sat on the silver. Three had begun complimenting the cyborg incessantly, and while Four remained silent during it all, he gave Mario an approving nod when the Italian glanced at him.

“I'm so happy for you two!” Meggy exclaimed, waving her hands up and down. Puzzles chuckled sheepishly as he tugged at his suit jacket. “Ah, well, mmm.” For once, the address didn't have a response, though he didn't need one; Mario was happy doing all of the talking for him. “I know! This is- Ahahah! We're finally getting married!” Mario flapped his arms up and down excitedly, and Three clapped Puzzles on the back. “Good going, dude! Takes a lot of courage to do that in front of so many people.”

“Ah- Well, it's not my first time doing something like that in front of an audience, eh...” Puzzles laughed shyly as Mario jumped up and kissed him on the vent, prompting the adware to burst into shy giggles. Queen Alyssa approached the group with a wide grin. “I'm so happy for you two!” She announced, taking Mario's hands and shaking them. “I'm glad you could trust me with such an important event to set the mood for, Puzzles!”

The crew stared at him for a moment. Mario and Three burst into laughter while Tari just stared at him in shock. “You went to the queen to set up your proposal?!” She blurted, and Puzzles nodded. “I-It was just a favor! Nothing more...”

“Don't stress about it, Puzzles.” Four said, walking up to him and resting his hand on his forearm. Puzzles looked down at him in surprise. “You two are a great couple.” Four put on a smile as he raised his thumb at the adware, and Puzzles’ screen flickered as he grinned.

This was the best night they'd ever had.

#tumblr lagged like crazy while i edited this to not include the italics htmls #but heres your marware #btw ill prob delete this later #marware

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honibumii · 1 month ago

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GUESS who finally did their yuusona actually based on themselves 😼

more info + relationship charts under the cut !!

›RELATIONSHIP CHARTS

›INFO

Uniform design stuff

🧸 Any pronouns user !!

🧸 While knowing damn well theyre definitely not from Twisted Wonderland, they have lost almost all their active memories from their life except very specific snippets (always triggered by some other also very specific situations) every now and then. Still, all their lifes gained knowledge such as languages, facts about their likes, themselves, etc; its completely present, of course.

🧸 Canarian. Thanked GOD from being a languages autistic™ the second Nené realized those bitches did NOT speak Spanish.

🧸 Also about this ^^ :

Can write+read+speak fluently: Spanish, English, Italian

Can read+speak: French

Kinda can read and speak a little: German, Latin

🧸 Stuffed animals number1 lover💪💪💪💪

🧸 Nicknames: Puffer fish (Floyd), Paparazzi (Rook), Shag kid (Vil)

🧸 Dyes their hair every 2 weeks, has had EVERY color possible. Everytime you see them their hair color is at the very least slightly fucking different. Nobody knows how they havent gone absolutely bald already.

🧸 Also on this ^^ Deuce helps them dye it!! Even if Nené insists its not neccesary... oooh boy does Deuce of all people know how hard that shit is ong AND if theres something good he got out of his delinquent era it is DYING HAIR🔥🔥🔥 They do not let Ace touch that stuff tho keep the terrible impulsively bumbling ginger AWAY

🧸 Yes they founded a Photography club with them as their only member just so they can unapologetically spent all day going around photographing stuff.

🧸 HATES Vil with a PASSION. Book 5 was hell.

🧸 Has "gaming sessions" with Idia. Its mostly just lying in silence on his bed while he plays and rants, but they love it.

🧸 They and Kalim are the WORST duo ever, they bring out each others even MORE childish side to a socially horrendous degree.

🧸 Penguins are their fav animals !!

🧸 Little spoon since birth. Ace loves to just curl around + above him like a little stupid plush.

🧸 A seemingly calm and collected individual until Sebek appears. One too loud word and guys already getting kicked on the balls.

🧸 Its a inside joke on the Ramshackle gang how Malleus is always outside their window like a victorian secret forbidden lover. Eventually they all end up addressing him as "Their lover" whenever talking about him with Nené.

🧸 Its another running inside joke between Nené and Ace how he had been offering to "sleep with them" since day fucking one.

"You literally ASKED for us the SHARE THE BED" "There was no room!" "THERE WAS A WHOLE ASS FREE COUCH"

🧸 Threatens to fucking kill Vargas at least 4 times a week.

🧸 Malleus sometimes lends them his dragon tomodachi thing to take care of it when hes too busy.

🧸 Whenever Floyds around, theyre inmediately up in his shoulders. Your honor thats their emotional support scary cuddly tall guy.

FINALLY DONE YAYYYY once AGAIN the templates are from the amazing @ai-kan1 !!!

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sebastianswallows · 3 months ago

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The English Client — Thirty-six

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir @thiefofthecrowns

It wasn’t until the afternoon that she and Tom were free to leave the station. A few of the Baron’s closest friends, among them Signor Luce, had vouched for their presence at the shop the night before, although none of the parties would explain why they were there at all. From the looks exchanged between Inspector Bombulo and the sergeant, they must have suspected something foul. Human trafficking, probably… But nothing that they could accuse the Baron’s wealthy friends of. Caught in the middle of this cavalcade and seeming innocent, they were released.

The two went home together and stayed quiet the whole way. The morning trams had just started running, but they felt none of the exhaustion that they should have. Adrenaline ran its shrill course through both of them. Tom went with her to her flat without even asking and privately dreaded what she’d say when they were finally in the safety of her room, but she prolonged his suffering and continued to say nothing much at all. Every time he looked at her he could see her eyes wide with fear and dark with grim foreboding. She always did love to fret so much, his dear…

“Is my Italian really that bad?” he asked as they were taking their shoes off.

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and finally smiled. “Not half as bad as your French.”

He was relieved to have even gotten an insult from her — something which only weeks ago would’ve been outrageous to him.

She undressed, then gently stripped the clothes off him as well. Donatien’s clothes. If Tom had much life left in him he would’ve blushed. Without even asking how he’d come to wear them — had she even caught him changing back from the Polyjuice potion? — she threw them to the side and hugged him, skin melting against skin. He read in it apologies and supplications for having kissed Donatien, but could only smile. He had been the one to tempt her, after all.

“It was a horrible night,” she muttered against his chest.

“Oh, I don’t think it was so bad,” said Tom with a thin smile, his arms wrapped around her tightly.

“Of course you don’t. You finally got what you wanted.”

Too proud to ask for her forgiveness, Tom said nothing more, and in the bright morning, they went to bed together. He found that he preferred the silence. If neither of them said a word they could pretend the night had never happened, that everything was just as it was before, and would keep being so without such a fast-approaching end to all of it. But he could feel her holding onto him more tightly than she ever did, and he might’ve done the same. With fingers intertwined, she clasped his hand in hers as if to dream was to risk being cast adrift.

They were woken up quite late, at around six in the evening, by the ringing of the telephone. She rolled out of bed like a clumsy little storm and picked up before Tom could even groan.

“Yes?” she sighed. “Hello, mother. Yes, I sound tired because I am. No, I —” A pause in contemplation. “No, you know what, yes, I did just wake up.” The ghost of angry chiding on the other end. “Because I came in late last night. Anyway, how are you?”

Tom, lying on his stomach and so sleepy he could hardly feel his body, turned his head to look at her. There was a different quality to her voice that day, an impetuousness, a sharpness, something consummately stronger. He knew he’d had no part in it but he still felt quite proud.

“No,” she sighed, “I can’t tell you why. Because I can’t. And actually, I don’t even want to tell you. That’s right. Fine then. Fine. Go ahead, hang up.”

She slammed the receiver down as soon as it began to beep. Then, like a naked warrior emerging from the heat of battle, she fell upon the bed and groaned. Tom chuckled as he watched her cuddle close to him again and opened his arms to receive her.

III

“Mmmm… What time is it?”

“Half past one.”

“Damn.”

“I made tea.”

“Is it magic tea?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious!”

“Do you want it or not?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then sit up.”

“Thank you…”

“And to answer your question, yes, I did brew it with magic.”

“REALLY???”

“Careful! You’ll spill it!”

The whole day was wasted, at least from Tom’s point of view. He was stared at as if she could just by looking at him discover yet newer and more fascinating things about him. And the questions, the endless questions… She wanted to know where he’d learned everything and could hardly believe that it was in a school. Tom must have made it sound like the most ordinary thing — because, to him, it was. She was expecting, of course, that it was from some hermit living in a cave or a secret cult of witches, or from a book that she too could have found and read. Tom had to tell her with a secret little sting in his heart that it was not possible.

Then, quite reasonably, she wanted to know just what he’d done to Mr. Malfoy.

“I can’t tell you. But it’s harmless, I promise.”

He’d brought the book home as well, still in its decorative box. It amused him how although she’d handled it extensively the night before, now she was too afraid to touch it. She stared at it intensely though after Tom took it out. They made plans together on where to hide it. There was no indication that the Carabinieri would visit them at home but he wanted to prepare just in case.

“I’ll be damned if I let it fall into muggle hands again.”

“What’s a muggle?”

“…Nevermind.”

In the end, he decided to disguise it as a box of matches. It took several minutes for her to close her mouth after she saw him perform the simple spell, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t cute.

“They’ll get suspicious if they see it and notice you don’t smoke, though,” she said once she came back to her senses. “Especially considering they’re investigating arson at the Baron’s library.”

“…Packet of chewing gum, then.” He’d never before been so happy to have such a clever girlfriend.

“So you can just… change something into something else?”

“Magic would be very dull if it couldn’t even accomplish that, wouldn’t it?”

“And people too?”

“Well…”

“And people too?”

“To be specific, that’s a potion.”

“TOM!”

“OW!” he shouted as she hit him in the arm. He realised now whenever she’d done it before she was only playing at it.

“I knew he sounded strange!”

“The potion doesn’t change your voice, I had to — Ow!”

“And you made me feel bad about it!”

“You chose to feel bad. Ah, stop it!”

Fortunately, she was too distracted with hitting every part of him she could reach to ask what happened to the real Donatien. With any luck, she never would know.

Slowly, as they always did, they made up, and to wash all the unpleasantness out of her mind the faster Tom suggested they go out. They went for a walk, stopping for a quick meal at the first clean restaurant they saw, and by sunset, they found themselves before the Baron’s building.

There was still a little crowd outside and a police car that was empty, but they’d missed most of the fuss. The fire had been contained before it consumed the whole building, but the library was completely destroyed. The newspapers were reporting speculation that the blaze was the result of an occult ritual gone wrong, and by the time the two of them joined the onlookers the latest whisper was that the old man had tried to open a portal to hell. Tom couldn’t be happier.

“I won’t ask why you’re smiling.”

“Good.”

“But I know you shouldn’t.”

“Oh come now, don’t you find it at least a little bit amusing? And fitting?”

“You’re horrid.”

“You’ve only just noticed?”

She sighed but kept holding his hand.

“What happens now?” she asked as they started walking home.

“What do you mean?”

“Will you leave me?”

A lump formed in his throat and he had to force the words out. It was a struggle to speak calmly, smoothly, with no sign of a tremble in his voice.

“I have to.”

“But why?! You’re a… you’re a wizard,” she whispered, even though there was nobody around anymore. “You can live anywhere, do anything!”

“If only it were that simple…”

Her face was such a perfect melding of angry and sad. It was, in fact, perfect in every way.

“You just think I’m not good enough for you, don’t you?” she said, standing before him with heartbroken fury.

The thought had crossed his mind. It was actually one of the favourite things he told himself when he needed a reminder that he’d have to leave. But the longer he searched for an answer for her, the more he was confronted with the looming phantom of a thought — the truth was in fact the opposite: he’d never felt good enough for her.

“Tom,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “Just tell me…”

“Why? Would it give you great pleasure in hearing it?”

“No,” she said with a pained smile. Her voice wavered with unshed tears. “But I’d rather hear it than keep thinking it. Pull it out of my head and be done with it.”

Her voice struck Tom like a blade, like a talon, like a thorn caught somewhere between his heart and ribs that pained him with every breath. It would’ve been so easy to say it, just as he’d found it easy to think it, but the words got stuck along the way and choked him.

It started snowing just then, the first snow of the year. Neither of them cared to look at it. Her face was veiled behind her foggy breath and slowly stars of snowflakes gathered in the soft canopy of her hair. Tom reached to touch one and let his gloved hand linger until he could cup her face. She stepped closer, a lost doe seeking warmth, and pressed her hands against the lapels of his coat.

“Ask me to come along with you again,” she said. “Ask me one more time, just like you used to.”

He cocked a brow. That was the last thing he had expected her to say. Every time he’d offered she shot him down, and now? She knew just as well as he did that it would look suspicious, given the circumstances. But something in her voice was… desperate. Was she really as in love with him as she seemed to be, or was she just expecting him to get her out of trouble?

“Ask me,” she said again.

“Why? You’ve said no plenty of times.”

In truth, he’d only asked her to join him in England in an attempt to gain her trust — to get closer to the book. The Polyjuice solution had made her no longer necessary as he could get the book from Malfoy directly in a way that satisfied the protection spells around the shop. But standing before him she seemed genuinely hurt in a way Tom couldn’t comprehend — or didn’t want to. He had barely begun to comprehend his own feelings, fraught as they were.

Her jaw was tight, her eyes smouldered, and Tom remained silent and unmoving. Whatever it was she thought, she didn’t say it. Instead, she turned sharply on her heels and left. Or would have. Tom had gripped her elbow and he would not let her go.

“Why do you wish to leave with me? Why now?”

She threw a frown at him, so angry at his rejection that it clouded all her thoughts. She said nothing but it didn’t stop Tom from trying to read her mind.

“Why?” he asked again.

But she ripped herself out of his grip before he could read her thoughts and turned away, trotting through the soft floating snow.

He plated the book in front of him and it landed with a gentle thud. With the reverence of a bridegroom on a wedding night, Tom reached down and pulled the cloth away and saw the horrid face of dead dry leather, stitched up, shining in the candlelight. He had to convince himself he was worthy of touching it. It wasn’t every day he read a book written by the devil. He spent a few moments just contemplating the cover, the feel of it, the binding, the scent of an old corpse... Books like this should be savoured. It was like a whole new world one stepped in with their fingers, a mind cracked open like a shout of thunder crashing through the air.

What craftsmanship that had gone into it, what care… Going as far as selecting the right skin for it, the blood to make the ink, the parchment lacquered in black wax to make the pages shine. Someone had loved this book with all the fervour and the pain of a mother giving birth, and throughout its lengthy life so far, it had known many other loves. Obsessive, possessive love, yet reverent as well. It did not escape Tom’s notice that it would make a worthy Horcrux.

But, on the off-chance that it really was written by a demonic being, binding his soul to it might not be such a good idea.

He cracked it open. It groaned. The pages sighed upon being exposed and the front cover fell upon the desk like a foot tapping down. The same devil on the frontispiece waved at him in silence as that which Mr. Malfoy saw.

“Venetiae, apud Aristidem Torchiam & LCF,” he read out loud. Looking more closely, he noticed a thin writing on the foot of the demonic throne, almost less of a text and more of a clawed scribble. “Sic luceat lux… Thus let the light shine.”

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

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