#but she says it made her think of him. the real him. gold and sparkling and beautiful

[mercvry-glow]

All that glitters

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. jack isn't a materialistic man, and you try your best not to be spoiled—but when your man gets flirted with, maybe it's time to flaunt the rings?

warnings. typical pitt setting, hospital drama, age gap bc i make the rules in this house (Jack late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), secret marriage trope but the don't really try very hard to hide it, jack gets flirted with, sassy jack, reader that has hair long enough to be in a ponytail, other pitt characters, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. love love love jack and younger reader who he loves to spoil—i'll make them my mark sloan/lexie grey dream. sorta follows the stereotype of nurses getting married young with a big phat rock on their finger and reader is living her best life fr, today she's giving health icon realness! like always feedback is very much appreciated and i love all of you!

wc. 1500+

all that gleams (18+)

There were very few perks to working night shift in the ER, but your coworkers were definitely one of them. The vibe was calmer, looser. You could play music low, crack jokes in between traumas, and snack on protein bars and green juice in peace without an intern hovering at your elbow asking if this was the “bad kind of blood.”

 More importantly though? You didn’t have to deal with as many junior staff mispronouncing meds or asking you if “NPO” was a hospital in another state.

Not that you were that far off from their age. You were only a few years ahead of most of them, and honestly? You didn’t always look like someone who belonged in the ER. You were the compression jacket-wearing, Pilates-going, smoothie-before-shift, electrolyte-during kind of nurse. Hair always in a claw clip, nails always clean and glossy, scrubs perfectly tailored and paired with a cute fleece half-zip. Your badge reel had glitter. Your tumbler was filled with ice water. You had a favorite lip balm and two glosses.

And somehow, you were married to Jack Abbot.

Not that most people at PTMC knew that.

Jack—hardass, sarcasm-laced, gruff-charm Abbot—wasn't exactly wearing a “taken” sign on his back. And you weren’t shouting it from the rooftops either. You both liked the privacy, liked having something all to yourselves in a place where everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business.

Still, the diamond on your finger didn’t exactly scream subtle. It was flashy. Big, clear, and set in a gold band that sparkled aggressively under the hospital’s harsh fluorescents. People noticed it. You’d caught more than one resident blinking at it mid-sentence.

Jack noticed it too, especially when you wandered over to where he stood, leaning casually against the wall near the trauma bay—arms crossed, mouth in a flat line, giving you that look he always did when you showed up a little too put together for the ER at 2 a.m.

You sipped your icy water and tapped your fingers against your cup. “Slow night.”

He didn’t even glance at you. “You trying to get us all booked?”

“Oh come on, I didn’t say the actual Q-word.”

“You said ‘slow night,’ which is the Q-word’s passive-aggressive cousin. We’re totally fucked now, hope you’re happy.”

You smiled sweetly, resting an elbow on the nearby table. “I brought chia pudding for later. Want one?”

He side-eyed you. “I don’t even know what the hell that is.”

“It’s gut healthy, Jack. There’s fruit in it too,”

“I don’t trust anything that you find on TikTok.”

You giggled, which only made him more suspicious. Jack’s gaze dipped to your hand as you fiddled with the straw in your drink, the ring practically glowing.

“You’re really wearing that thing tonight?”

You blinked innocently. “What, this old thing?”

He snorted. “You know it’s blinding under these lights, right? Someone’s gonna seize just from the glare.”

“Well then I’m technically doing my job,” you said, smiling. “Keeping you on your toes.”

“You’re gonna give the interns a complex. They think you’re single, you know.”

Your eyes widend in fake horror. “You don’t think I’m flirting with anyone, do you? Frank gets really chatty before he leaves for the night,”

He raised an eyebrow. “With how much you like to bug me, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“That’s rich coming from you, you like to hover too.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

Jack tilted his head. “Okay. A little. I’m just makin’ sure my girl’s all good.”

You gave him a light shove and took another sip of your water, just in time to hear the trauma pager start going off. 

MVC. ETA six minutes.

Jack stood up straighter like someone flipped a switch, already reaching for gloves. You grabbed your own pair from your pocket, gently removing your ring and placing it onto the accompanying chain around your neck. It’s something you and Jack had agreed to when it came to your wedding rings, minimal gore around them—”up or off” he liked to call it. He had his own of course, though most of the time he just kept his ring on the necklace while at work. 

You started bouncing lightly on your toes to get the blood flowing, not having had any action in the time since you had arrived. 

“Try not to trip over your own sparkle out there,” he muttered.

You gave him your sweetest smile. “You love it.”

He looked at you for a beat longer than he needed to. “Unfortunately.”

Unfortunately, your ass—he picked that ring out himself.

As the trauma team assembled, you took your place beside him, the two of you syncing without needing to speak. He passed you a gown without asking. You tied the back of his before he even turned around.

If anyone noticed how in step you were, they didn’t say anything.

 Jack’s hand brushed against yours as you moved into the trauma bay, just long enough for you to know he saw you. Always did.

After your first success of the night, the adrenaline had faded from the area like mist burning off in Pitsburgh morning light. You were perched back at the nurses' station, sipping from your oversized pink tumbler once again and tapping notes into the EMR system, your high ponytail somehow still intact after the trauma call. You’d already changed into your backup hoodie, the pale blue one that matched your compression socks. 

A little style, a little lip gloss, and a whole lot of not here for nonsense.

Things had quieted enough for Jack to finally emerge from the trauma bay, only for him to be flagged almost immediately by a patient coming in from the waiting room. She was maybe late twenties, long hair, fresh manicure, a barely-there scrape above her brow. Her chart said “fall on concrete.” Her strappy heels said, fall caused by attention-seeking behavior.

You glanced up briefly, watching Jack walk her to a curtained bay. She was smiling too much. Laughing too loud. He was wearing that look—the one he got when he knew a situation would be annoying and had already mentally detached from it.

“I swear,” the patient was saying, voice high and sweet, “every time I wear these I end up in trouble. Guess that teaches me for wanting to be cute on a Wednesday night.”

Jack didn’t even blink. “Sounds like unfortunate planning.”

You tried not to smirk, eyes drifting back to your screen, but your ears stayed tuned.

Inside the curtain bay, the flirting only ramped up.

“You’ve got great hands,” she continued. “Like, really strong—Are you a surgeon or something?”

“Or something,” he muttered, clearly already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

A moment later, you stood, casually collecting a folder from the rack. You strolled over, your walk unbothered, the slight shimmer of your clear gloss catching in the overhead light. You didn’t need to announce anything. You just stepped in like you belonged there—because in reality you didn’t.

“Oh—sorry, just grabbing this,” you said lightly, nodding toward the folder tucked on the side cart.

Jack’s eyes flicked to you briefly, then away. But that flicker said a lot. You were his safety net, his distraction, his gentle way out.

The patient looked between you and Jack, then caught sight of his chain. His ring where it should be—resting loosely around his neck, the soft shine of the gold band catching the overhead lights like a quiet announcement.

She blinked. “Oh... You’re married?”

Jack didn’t miss a beat. “I am.”

You turned just slightly, giving a small, polite smile. “He’s got great hands, right? They open all my jars and everything." shifting your own necklaces ever so slightly to show off your own ring.

The patient made a noncommittal noise. You gave Jack a subtle tap on the arm—nothing big, nothing dramatic—and slipped out without another word.

Back at the nurses’ station, Dr. Shen had just walked up, sipping his Dunkin’ coffee and looking comfortable as ever. He glanced at you, then at Jack still behind the curtain.

“New patient?” He asked.

“Minor trauma,” you replied, eyes still on your chart. “Potential for eye strain, though. A lot of eyelash batting happening in there.”

Shen raised one brow. “You jealous?”

You gave a soft laugh, sliding your tumbler closer. “Nope. Just observational.”

Jack appeared a second later, walking past with his usual quiet swagger and that look of can everyone please just not say something dumb, but paused near Shen.

“Patient’s stable. Probably fine to discharge with wound care instructions and a lesson on appropriate footwear.”

Shen nodded. “Noted.”

As Jack passed you, he muttered, “You know that folder wasn’t yours, right?”

You didn’t look up. “You’re welcome.”

He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice. “You’re ridiculous.”

You smiled, too sweet. “She was hitting on you.”

“I noticed.”

“She said you have surgeon hands.”

“I noticed.”

You leaned into him just enough for your perfume to tickle his nose. “You do, you know. Big, capable. Very sexy.”

“Don’t weaponize nice compliments.”

You grinned and rested your cheek on his arm for a beat. “You’re just mad you’re the one getting teased.”

He shook his head with a sigh, then mumbled under his breath, “Married a menace in $98 leggings, and I’m the one being told off.”

And you didn’t even argue—because you absolutely are… and you did buy the leggings in two colors.

mercvry-glow 2025

[not-magdi]

-rompers, strollers and so much more / lando norris

Warnings: none just some fluff

Words: 907

Reading Time: 3 min 37 sec

A/N

This could be seen as a part two to the first story but this can also be read as a stand-alone.

Part one (if anyone is interested)

Hope you enjoy reading it !

The golden Monaco sun bathed the cobblestone streets as Y/N and Lando strolled hand in hand toward the boutique baby store. Y/N’s free hand rested instinctively on her growing belly, and she couldn’t help but smile at how real everything was starting to feel. At five months pregnant, her bump was pronounced enough to draw gentle attention from passersby, and she wore it with quiet pride.

Lando gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his other hand occasionally brushing against her belly as though he couldn’t resist making a connection with their little one. “Our first official baby shopping trip,” he said, grinning. “Big day, huh?”

“It really is,” Y/N agreed, her eyes sparkling. “We’re actually buying things for her. It feels so… real now.”

“It does,” Lando replied, his grin widening. “Let’s spoil her a bit, yeah?”

When they stepped into the boutique, the pastel paradise of tiny clothes, plush toys, and elegant strollers greeted them. Y/N’s gaze darted around in awe. “This place is adorable,” she said softly, her eyes catching on a display of baby shoes no bigger than her palm.

“And overwhelming,” Lando added, scanning the room. “Where do we even start?”

Y/N laughed. “How about clothes? That seems like a safe start.”

Lando nodded and followed her to a rack of tiny onesies. He immediately pulled one out and held it up. “Okay, how about this?” he asked, showing her a white onesie with “Daddy’s Little Champion” written in gold script across the front.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You’re already dreaming of her racing career, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, pretending to puff out his chest. Then, turning toward her bump, he crouched slightly and spoke to it. “What do you think, baby girl? You’d look great in this, wouldn’t you? It’s got a winning vibe.”

Y/N chuckled, running a hand through Lando’s curls. “You know she can’t actually answer you, right?”

Lando looked up with a playful pout. “Not yet, but I’m practicing. She’s probably nodding in there.” He kissed Y/N’s belly lightly and straightened. “We’re getting it.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile but let him toss the onesie into their shopping basket.

As they sifted through the racks, Y/N picked up a soft pink romper with tiny bunny ears on the hood. “Lando, look at this. Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Lando reached over to feel the fabric. “That’s soft,” he said, then crouched again to talk to the bump. “What do you think, little one? Wanna be a bunny for Dad and Mum? I think you’d look pretty adorable.”

Y/N placed a hand on her bump, feeling a faint flutter of movement. Her smile widened. “I think she agrees with you.”

“See?” Lando said triumphantly. “She’s got great taste already.”

By the time they moved on from the clothes section, their basket was already brimming with pastel onesies, patterned leggings, and a knitted blanket Y/N couldn’t resist.

In the toy section, Y/N picked up a soft plush giraffe and pressed it to her cheek. “Do you think she’ll like this?”

Lando took it from her, holding it up in front of Y/N’s belly. “What do you think, baby girl? A giraffe for your room? We could name it Gerald. Gerald the Giraffe.” He made the giraffe “walk” along the shelf, pretending it was racing another toy.

“You’re such a child,” Y/N said, though her laughter betrayed how much she loved seeing his playful side.

“Hey, I’m practicing for playtime,” Lando replied, tossing the giraffe into their basket. “You’ll see. She’ll love it.”

When they reached the stroller section, they were met with rows of sleek, high-tech options. “Who knew strollers could be so complicated?” Y/N murmured, reading one of the tags. “This one says it has an all-terrain suspension system. Are we planning on taking her hiking?”

Lando crouched down to inspect the wheels. “You never know. Maybe we’ll need to get her to the track over gravel or something.”

“Of course,” Y/N said with a roll of her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress a smile.

After testing several models—and after Lando insisted on pushing each one in a short lap around the aisle to test its “maneuverability”—they settled on a sleek grey stroller that folded easily and looked modern and practical.

“This is the one,” Lando declared, patting the handle. “What do you think, baby girl? Does it pass the test?” He crouched one last time, resting a hand on Y/N’s belly. “You’ll be cruising around Monaco in style in this bad boy.”

“She’s not even born yet, and you’re already making her sound like a diva,” Y/N teased, though her voice was soft with affection.

“She deserves the best,” Lando said simply, standing and slipping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders.

As they approached the checkout counter, Y/N leaned into Lando, her hand resting on her bump. “This feels so real now,” she said softly. “Like she’s already a part of our lives.”

“She is,” Lando said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “And I can’t wait to meet her. She’s already got me wrapped around her little finger.”

They left the store with bags in hand, their hearts full as they walked down the bustling street. Every tiny onesie, every plush toy, and every little item they had picked out felt like a promise to their baby girl—a promise of love, care, and the beautiful life that was waiting for her.

---------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !❤️

[platonicaxaxe]

Deathtrap & Bob ⁴

Bob Reynolds (sentry) x Ex Assassin Reader

Summary: Anxious Blonde Bob trains with Deathtrap

The Bob(sentry) Masterlist here

Inside the sleek, high-ceilinged Avengers Tower, the atmosphere buzzed with frantic energy. Assistants in headsets weaved between bustling makeup artists, hair stylists, and suit technicians. Tables were stacked with press kits, bottled water, and neatly folded cue cards. Camera crews were setting up tripods while lighting specialists adjusted panels to ensure every hero would sparkle—literally.

In the center of it all stood Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, heels clicking furiously on the floor as she barked into a comm tablet.

“Chop-chop, people!” she called out, not even glancing up. “We need this press conference to prove that the new Avengers aren’t just here for PR fluff and action-figure deals.”

She spun around dramatically, eyes locking on Mel, one of her top assistants who was holding a clipboard like it was a shield. “This is for the people, Mel. Real heroes. Real impact. Got it?”

Mel hesitated. “Yeah, but don’t you think—”

“Just do what I say, Mel,” Valentina cut her off with a raised finger. “Send the invites. Confirm the press. Go. Run. Now.”

Mel scurried off like his shoes were on fire.

Valentina turned on her heel, surveying her team of so-called heroes now being prepped like runway models in a high-stakes fashion show. Each one stood under a halo of spotlight and scrutiny.

Bucky was having his new vibranium arm polished to a near mirror-shine. It gleamed cold and lethal, a sharp contrast to the bored expression on his face.

Ava Starr stood a few feet away in her newly reinforced Ghost suit, her eyes narrowed in discomfort as someone fussed with the fabric on her shoulders. “Don’t touch the stabilizers,” she warned a stylist with a glare.

Across the room, Red Guardian grinned like a kid on his birthday, striking heroic poses every time a photographer passed by. “Tell them to get my good side! Actually, never mind—I only have good sides,” he boomed.

Yelena sat slouched in a makeup chair, arms crossed and lips pursed, dodging mascara like it was a projectile. “Why do I need blush? I don’t blush, I bleed.”

John Walker adjusted his shield, which still had a dent that made it look vaguely taco-shaped despite endless repair attempts. “This thing’s a design choice now,” he muttered defensively.

Then, there was Bob.

Standing awkwardly in the middle of the chaos in his usual green knit sweater and baggy brown square pants, he stuck out like a kindergartener on a field trip. His hands were deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, and a quiet look of worry on his face.

Valentina approached him slowly, folding her arms. “Honey… are you really going to wear that to the press conference?”

Bob looked down at his outfit. “I-I thought it was… comfy.”

“You look like you’re about to pitch a tent at a national park, not represent Earth’s Mightiest Heroes,” she sighed. “Go. Suit up. You know which one.”

Moments later, the double doors to the conference hall opened.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

A wall of camera lights hit them like a storm.

And then, he appeared.

Bob stepped out onto the stage, now fully transformed into his Sentry persona. The gold and navy suit clung perfectly to his tall frame, the golden “S” emblem gleaming beneath the chandeliers. His hair—freshly dyed and styled by three very exhausted stylists—glowed under the lights.

He still looked a bit nervous, though. His lips twitched slightly and his eyes kept scanning the crowd like he was searching for a familiar face to anchor him.

Valentina leaned toward him, whispering behind her smile. “You look like a god. Own it, sweetheart.”

Bob swallowed. “I-I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“That’s just anxiety,” Val said smoothly. “Or fame. Maybe both. Either way, smile. You’re not in Kansas anymore.”

As the reporters raised their microphones and the questions began to pour in, Bob took a deep breath and straightened his back.

Somewhere in the sea of blinding flashes and murmured voices, someone shouted:

“Who’s the guy in gold?!”

“That’s Sentry,” someone else whispered. “He’s the most powerful one. And the shyest.”

Bob’s lips quirked into a soft, unsure smile.

And in the crowd, Valentina smirked with satisfaction. Her Thunderbolts weren’t perfect—but they were about to make headlines.

The conference lights had dimmed, the applause had died, and the cameras had finally stopped flashing. But inside Bob Reynolds, the storm was only beginning to churn.

Backstage, Valentina paced like a general preparing for war. The team—still half in costume, half in post-event exhaustion—gathered in the sleek conference room behind the press hall.

"Alright," she said, voice sharp. "We’ve got momentum now. This is when we strike. First mission briefing, now—"

But Bob was gone.

He’d quietly slipped away the moment the press conference ended, his heart pounding too loudly to hear anything else. His footsteps echoed against the sterile tile floor as he pushed open the bathroom door and rushed inside.

He gripped the edge of the sink tightly, eyes locked on his reflection.

Blonde hair. Pale face. Sweaty brow.

The suit was gone—replaced by his familiar sweater and brown pants—but the image still didn’t feel like him. The Sentry lingered in his eyes. The power he tried so hard to contain hummed beneath his skin like a distant warning bell.

He took a shaky breath and reached for his phone.

I'm coming over, I hope you don't mind.

He hit send and stared at the screen.

No reply.

“She probably left it on silent…” he mumbled to himself, trying to reassure his spiraling thoughts. “She always does…”

He couldn’t wait. He needed to see her.

Bob left the bathroom, brushing past a pair of security guards and entering the hallway. Valentina spotted him immediately through the meeting room glass.

“Robert! Hey! Robert!” she called after him, voice laced with authority.

He didn’t stop.

Yelena stood up, intercepting Val’s advance. “Let him go.”

Val blinked, surprised. “What?”

“He’s overwhelmed. He needs her. She… grounds him,” Yelena said plainly, arms folded. “You try stopping him now, you’ll have bigger problems than a PR stunt.”

Valentina hesitated, then exhaled and waved her hand in surrender. “Fine. But if he misses this mission, you answer to the board.”

Outside, Bob moved with unusual determination. The noise of the city wrapped around him—honking cars, distant chatter, the subway rumbling beneath the sidewalk.

He stopped briefly by a familiar fruit stand and placed a few bills on the counter.

“Two apples, please,” he said quietly.

The vendor looked up, startled by the seriousness in his tone. “Sure thing, friend.”

Bob took the apples and slipped them into his backpack. His fingers brushed against his blankey inside—his little anchor—and he zipped the bag closed.

As he turned the corner, he didn’t notice the large figure stepping in his path until it was too late.

Bump.

Bob stumbled slightly. The apples rolled inside his bag.

“You again?” came a voice—gravelly, mocking.

It was him. The same tattooed thug who tried to jump him weeks ago.

Bob didn’t flinch.

He stepped around him without a word.

“Oh, so now you’re too good to apologize?” the man sneered. “Wearing your golden cape today, little hero? Or are you still hiding behind your girlfriend’s fists?”

Bob’s jaw clenched. Something cold stirred inside him—not fear. Not Void. Just… power.

He turned slowly.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he said quietly. “Just let me go.”

“Too late for that.”

The thug shoved him hard, sending Bob skidding across the pavement.

But Bob didn’t fall.

He stopped himself mid-slide, feet dragging like anchors, and when he stood upright, there was a flicker of gold in his eyes.

The streetlights around them dimmed slightly, reacting to the subtle shift in his energy.

The thug lunged, fist cocked—but before it could land, Bob raised a glowing hand.

Wham!

A golden shockwave burst from his palm, not violent—but powerful enough to knock the man back several feet into a stack of crates. The air rippled like heat waves on concrete.

The man groaned, slumped over.

Bob took a deep breath, lowering his hand slowly. Sparks of energy danced around his fingertips before fading.

No Void. No darkness. Just control.

The people on the sidewalk gasped, some backing away, others pulling out phones—but Bob didn’t stay.

He turned and walked, his stride faster now. He was still buzzing inside, but he kept his emotions in check. He needed to get to her. To Yn.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, the Sentry whispered—not in threat, but as a presence.

You’re stronger than you think, Bob.

And this time, he believed it.

Without hesitation, Bob ran to the nearest alley and looked up to the sky. His heart was pounding, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He didn’t think—he just leapt.

This time... please.

Bob focused, summoning every ounce of energy, every fragment of control he had over the Sentry within. His eyes glowed faint gold, and the wind rushed around him as his feet slowly left the ground.

He flew.

Wobbly at first, unbalanced—but he was in the air, really flying.

For the first time.

His wide eyes filled with tears, and a smile cracked on his face before—

Boom!

He crashed down outside Yn’s cabin, right into the tall grass beside the porch with a loud thud and an ungraceful roll.

Inside the cabin, Yn dropped the mug of tea she had just poured. Her eyes widened, and she rushed outside barefoot.

“Bob!?” she shouted, spotting his hunched figure crawling out of the tall grass.

“I was… I was gonna surprise you,” he muttered, dazed, blinking up at her.

“I was about to get ready to pick you up,” she said, crouching beside him, voice filled with concern. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He gave a weak nod, and she quickly helped him up. He leaned on her, wincing a bit, and she guided him inside the warm, rustic cabin.

The inside smelled faintly of cinnamon and pine. The fireplace flickered low. She led him to her bed and sat him down, gently brushing dirt from his cheek.

Bob’s hands trembled as he held his knees, breathing shaky. His chest heaved—like he had been holding it all in since the press conference.

“I-I feel so—”

But the words caught in his throat. His lip quivered.

Yn didn’t wait.

She wrapped her arms around him, gently laying him down onto the bed with her, holding him as if to keep the world from falling apart around him.

“It’s okay,” she whispered softly. “Let it out. Let it all out. We’ll talk when you can, hm?”

And that was all it took.

Bob’s walls collapsed. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face into her shoulder. His fingers clutched her hoodie like a lifeline.

“I-I tried to be what they needed… what she wanted… the hair, the suit— I couldn’t breathe. I just wanted to come here. I-I needed—”

“Shh…” she whispered, fingers gently running through his hair. “You don’t have to explain right now. You’re here. You’re safe.”

Minutes passed.

The only sound in the cabin was the crackle of the fire and Bob’s quiet sobs, slowly fading into deeper breaths as he relaxed in her arms.

They lay like that for a long while, no words needed.

Because in that small cabin outside the city, wrapped in each other’s arms, Bob Reynolds could finally fall apart—and somehow feel whole at the same time.

“Hey,” Yn said softly, brushing her fingers against Bob’s hand. “Let’s go for a walk, hm?”

Bob looked up at her, eyes a little puffy but calm now. He nodded.

They both stood, Yn grabbing a soft hoodie to throw over her shoulders while Bob tugged at the sleeves of his familiar green sweater. The cabin door creaked open as they stepped outside into the crisp night air.

It was quiet—beautifully so. The moon cast silver glows through the trees, and the woods whispered with the rustle of leaves in the gentle wind. Crickets hummed softly beneath the blanket of stars.

"You know what I do when I get overwhelmed?" Yn asked, walking ahead slightly, letting her fingertips glide over the low-hanging pine needles.

Bob chuckled, catching up beside her. “You go to the music shop and pretend not to see me awkwardly stalking the vinyl section?”

Yn laughed and gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. “Okay, that too,” she admitted, “but I meant this. Right here.”

She stopped and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of moss and pine.

“I walk here. I listen. I breathe. I let nature remind me that the world doesn’t expect me to be perfect. It just expects me to exist. And sometimes… that’s enough.”

Bob looked around, letting the quiet seep into his bones. It was so different from the constant buzz of New York, the flashing lights, the pressure of headlines and eyes.

“That sounds… peaceful,” he said.

“It is,” she nodded. “And maybe it’ll help you too.”

Bob looked down at his feet for a moment, his voice almost a whisper. “Well, Bucky did advise me to take walks... said it helped with his own thoughts. I tried, but—” he gave a soft sigh—“not sure it ever worked.”

“Probably because your walks were in the busy, noisy streets of New York while, y’know, stalking me from behind hotdog carts,” she teased with a grin.

His cheeks flushed instantly as he scratched the back of his neck. “I-I wasn’t stalking, I was… observing… from a respectful… twenty feet.”

She giggled and gently slipped her hand into his. Bob blinked but didn’t pull away. His fingers trembled a little, but then he tightened the hold.

Yn slowed her pace. “Bob… I know it’s not easy. You carry something huge inside you. Something that scares you. But you’re still trying to be good. Still trying to be you. And I think that’s… incredibly brave.”

Bob swallowed thickly, heart thudding in his chest. “You don’t think I’m… too broken?”

She stopped, turned to him, and reached up to touch his cheek. “No. I think you’re healing. And healing people? They don’t scare me.”

His lips parted slightly, eyes searching hers for any trace of doubt—but there was none.

They stood in the silence for a while, under moonlight and the rustle of wind through trees. The kind of silence that spoke louder than any words.

Then Yn whispered, “You’re safe here, Bob. With me. Always.”

He nodded, blinking back a shimmer of emotion. “Thanks, Yn… for letting me be the quiet version of me. The one who doesn’t always have to be glowing.”

She smiled. “That version? He’s my favorite.”

They walked a little deeper into the woods, where the trees gave way to a small clearing drenched in moonlight. The air was still, thick with pine and possibility.

Yn turned to Bob with a small smile, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her hoodie. “Well, since we’re here… just nature, no noise, no eyes—why don’t we see what the Sentry can do?”

Bob blinked, nervous. “Wh-what, here? Now?”

“Why not?” she shrugged, taking a step back to give him space. “No pressure. Just you, me… and the moonlight.”

“I-I don’t know if I can really—control it all yet.”

“I’ll be right here,” she said gently. “You’re not alone in it.”

He hesitated for a moment, heart hammering in his chest. But Yn’s calm gaze grounded him. So he took a breath and closed his eyes.

The air shimmered faintly as golden light began to trace around his body—soft at first, then brighter. His sweater fluttered lightly as the energy rose, swirling around him like a sentient breeze.

“Okay…” Yn said softly, stepping in like a coach. “Let’s start small. Try levitating, like you did outside my cabin.”

Bob furrowed his brow and slowly rose a foot off the ground, arms out like a nervous airplane. His face tightened with focus, feet wobbling mid-air.

“You’re doing great!” Yn said, hands cupped around her mouth. “But maybe don’t look like you’re constipated.”

“Th-this takes concentration!” Bob said through gritted teeth, wobbling in the air.

Yn giggled. “Breathe, Bob. You’re glowing like a sun—don’t let it burn you.”

He exhaled slowly. The wobble eased. He floated smoothly now, golden aura pulsing like a heartbeat. Then, slowly, he lowered himself back to the ground.

“Okay, okay,” he said, panting slightly. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You did amazing,” Yn grinned. “Now… let’s try strength.”

She led him toward a fallen log the size of a minivan. “Think you can lift that?”

“I-I mean… maybe?” Bob blinked.

“You’re a powerhouse, Bob. Come on.”

He rolled up his sleeves awkwardly—then realized he was glowing again and didn't need to—and placed his hands under the log. With a breath and a grunt, he lifted it slowly, golden light threading through his arms like molten wires.

The log rose into the air.

He looked up, wide-eyed. “I—I’m doing it!”

“Now toss it.”

“What?!”

“Toss it! Gently!”

He flung it, more out of panic than grace, and the log tumbled like a spinning coin before crashing into a pile of leaves, bursting into splinters.

Bob flinched. “Oops.”

Yn clapped. “Ten out of ten for dramatic effect.”

Bob chuckled, running a glowing hand through his now-blond hair. “I still feel… unbalanced. Like it’s not me doing it.”

“You’re not a machine, Bob. You’re learning. And every time you try, you take back a little more control.”

She stepped closer and placed a hand on his chest, over where his heart beat, fast but steady.

“You’re not the power. You’re the person who chooses how to use it. And that’s what makes you strong.”

He looked down at her, eyes shimmering gold now. “You really believe that?”

She smiled. “I believe in you.”

He took her hand, holding it like a lifeline.

“Then maybe… just maybe, I can believe in me too.”

The training slowly fizzled into laughter. After a couple more power stunts—and one accidental tree getting split in half—they finally collapsed onto the soft grass in the clearing, breathless and flushed from both the exertion and the joy.

Bob lay flat on his back, the golden shimmer from his earlier stunts still faintly dancing around his fingertips. Yn curled up beside him, her head nestled gently in the crook of his arm.

The moonlight dappled through the branches above them, stars beginning to wink awake in the purple-stained sky. A light breeze passed, rustling the leaves and brushing against their skin like nature’s lullaby.

They were both giggling softly, the kind of laughter that bubbles up after adrenaline and comfort collide.

“You know,” Yn said between breaths, turning slightly so she could look up at him, “you look good blonde, by the way.”

Bob turned beet red. “I—I do?”

“Yeah,” she grinned, nudging his side with her elbow. “You look like a golden retriever who just got promoted to god-tier.”

Bob chuckled awkwardly, hiding his face with his free hand. “I wasn’t sure. I thought I looked like… like a banana with anxiety.”

“Well, now you’re my favorite banana,” she teased.

He laughed harder, a real, full laugh that crinkled his eyes and made his chest shake. “Th-that’s the weirdest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

She shrugged, resting her cheek against his arm again. “We’re weird people.”

They fell into a warm silence after that. Bob slowly turned his head to look at her, her hair haloed by the moonlight, eyes half-lidded in peace.

“Hey, Yn?” he said softly.

“Hmm?”

“I think… this is the first time I’ve felt safe. Like… really safe. Since everything changed.”

She looked up at him again, her hand gently finding his. “Then that means we’re doing something right.”

Bob held onto her words like a blanket, wrapping himself in them.

And beneath the quiet woods and glittering sky, the Sentry didn’t feel like a weapon.

He just felt… human.

“I know what we’re going to do tomorrow,” Yn said with a spark in her eyes.

Bob looked at her, resting his cheek on her shoulder, slightly out of breath from their laughter. “What is it?”

She smirked, tapping the tip of his nose. “You’ll see.”

Morning dew clung to the grass like tiny stars as they jogged through the forest path behind Yn’s cabin. The air was crisp, the world still wrapped in the serenity of sunrise. Birds chirped overhead while soft beams of golden light filtered through the trees.

Bob kept pace beside Yn, a little clumsy but doing his best. His blonde hair was pulled back slightly by a band she’d given him, and his old green hoodie bounced with each step. Despite the peaceful setting, he was already panting. “Y-you said this was a jog, not a sprint.”

Yn just laughed, not even winded. “We’re almost there, loverboy.”

They rounded a bend and emerged at a breathtaking lakeside clearing. Mist hovered above the water, and the surface mirrored the rising sun in quiet ripples. The area was secluded, peaceful—a hidden world untouched by chaos.

Bob stopped in awe. “Woah… This place is—”

“My little sanctuary,” Yn said proudly, stretching her arms toward the lake. “This is where I usually train.”

Bob turned to her, surprised. “You train alone?”

“Since I got out of the Red Room,” she replied, her voice steady but soft, layered with quiet strength. “Yeah. It’s where I learned how to be me again.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

“Will you be my training buddy now?” she asked, breaking the moment with a wide, playful grin.

Bob blushed faintly but smiled back. “W-well yeah, b-but I don’t really… know how to fight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’ll learn,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him gently to the center of the clearing. “Come on.”

They began with the basics.

Yn stood in front of him, adjusting his stance, gently tapping his knees with her foot to reposition him. “Wider. You’ll fall over if your legs are too close.”

Bob wobbled a little. “L-like this?”

She circled him. “Closer. But not like a penguin, soldier.”

Bob gave a nervous laugh. “I-I’m trying.”

Yn stepped in and took his hands in hers. “Try to push me.”

“What?” he blinked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she said, standing firm. “Push.”

Bob hesitated, then gave a soft shove.

She didn’t move an inch.

“Okay,” he muttered, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re… weirdly strong.”

“Years of fighting and espresso,” she teased. “Now again.”

They went on for an hour—stance, balance, simple dodges. She guided him step-by-step, her touch steady and reassuring, and though he stumbled (a lot), he laughed with her, even when he tripped over his own foot and fell into the dirt.

She offered a hand. “Training 101: fall with style.”

After catching their breath by the lakeside, Yn turned serious.

“Now let’s try something else,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Close your eyes.”

Bob looked at her, unsure. “What for?”

“Feel the sun. The breeze. The sound of the water.” Her voice softened, coaxing him into calm. “Let the power in you rise slowly. Like the tide. You’re not fighting it—you’re listening to it.”

He closed his eyes.

Breathing in. Breathing out.

Golden light flickered along his fingertips, dancing like flames but gentle. Controlled.

Yn smiled. “Good. Now lift that branch.”

Bob raised his hand and the thick log beside them levitated shakily.

“Focus,” she said, stepping behind him, placing a hand on his back. “It’s not about the strength. It’s about clarity.”

Bob’s breath steadied, and so did the log, floating with surprising grace.

“I-I’m doing it…” he whispered.

“You are,” Yn whispered back, beaming.

The log gently lowered to the grass.

He opened his eyes, stunned.

“You did amazing,” she said softly, and Bob turned to her with a tired, proud smile.

“I-I wouldn’t be able to without you,” he said.

“You just needed someone to believe in you, Bob.”

They sat beside each other on the soft earth, the sunlight warming their skin and the lake glistening like a mirror of stars.

Bob took her hand, golden energy still humming faintly at his fingertips.

And for the first time, his power didn’t feel like a threat.

It felt like his.

In the high-rise war room of the tower, tension ran like electricity through the air. Valentina's stilettos clicked rapidly across the floor as she paced in frustration, throwing quick glances at the mission timer blinking red on the monitor.

“He’s still not back?” she barked, flinging a tablet onto the conference table. “This mission is in three days and our golden boy is out playing house with some girl?”

Yelena raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word.

Val pointed sharply toward her. “Don’t give me that look, Belova. I know you know something. Where is he?”

Yelena shrugged. “Relax. He’s not lost. He just… took a breather.”

Valentina spun, eyes wide. “A breather? He’s the Sentry! He doesn’t get to vanish! Do you even understand what kind of storm I’m dealing with from the U.N. press office? He’s a nuclear-level asset in a relationship with a complete civilian and—God knows—probably barefoot in the forest somewhere meditating under a pine tree!”

Yelena smirked, chewing her gum louder. Ava stood by the window, lips twitching slightly but kept her arms crossed. John Walker was staring at his phone like it was the most interesting thing in the room. Red Guardian was slowly stirring sugar into his coffee.

Valentina kept rambling. “We’re finally getting attention from major allies! The press conference went viral—viral! You know how many eyes are on us right now? We can’t afford to have our headline hero MIA because he caught feelings for some soft-voiced farm girl who sells jam and reads sad poetry!”

Yelena gave a dramatic yawn.

Val's eyes narrowed. “What is this? You’re all unusually quiet.”

No one answered.

A tense silence followed—until Red Guardian slowly took a sip of his coffee and muttered, “Perhaps… he is exactly where he needs to be.”

Val's head snapped toward him. “And where is that, exactly?”

Red Guardian looked over to Yelena. Yelena glanced at Ava. Ava blinked once and looked at John.

All of them avoided Valentina’s eyes.

“Great,” she muttered. “Now you’re all suddenly Buddhist monks and fortune cookies.”

John cleared his throat. “Look, Val. He’ll be back. He always comes back. Maybe he just needed a break from…” he gestured vaguely around the tower, “...all this.”

“He doesn’t get a break!” Val snapped. “He’s not a puppy. He’s a symbol. He is hope. He’s public trust. The Sentry’s dating life cannot override protocol. I’m trying to run a global initiative here, not a matchmaking show!”

Yelena turned her face slightly to hide a grin. Ava blinked at the ceiling. Even John gave a short cough that suspiciously sounded like a laugh.

Valentina glared around the room. “What? What is it now? You all know something I don’t, don’t you?”

The team said nothing.

Yelena popped a bubble and said with a grin, “Maybe if you spent less time micromanaging his hair color and more time listening, you’d be slightly more informed.”

Valentina blinked. “Excuse me?”

Ava finally spoke up, voice calm. “He’s with someone who helps him stay grounded. That’s all that matters.”

Val threw her hands in the air. “Grounded?! I didn’t pull him out of a psych spiral and rebrand him for him to disappear into the woods like some myth!”

Yelena raised her brows, exchanging a quick glance with Ava.

A myth.

If only she knew.

But no one told her. They all knew better. It wasn’t their place—and if Valentina found out Bob was dating The Deathtrap, she'd either panic or try to spin it into a media circus.

Red Guardian murmured, “Let him breathe. You’ll have your golden boy back soon.”

Valentina narrowed her eyes. “He better be camera-ready when he returns. Blonde and brilliant. I won’t tolerate any more stunts.”

The team watched her storm out of the room.

As the doors slid shut, Yelena burst into a quiet laugh. “Camera-ready, she says…”

Ava allowed herself a rare smile. “He’s training harder than ever.”

John chuckled. “And I bet he’s sleeping better too.”

Red Guardian grinned. “Deathtrap always had a way of making even monsters feel human.”

The room quieted again, the weight of the secret shared between them. Outside, the mission timer kept ticking.

But somewhere far from the tower, in a place no cameras could reach, Bob was learning how to breathe again.

And he was in the safest hands possible.

[its-avalon-08]

Hello! Can I req ln4 x reader where they are secretly married, but the entire world just know they're bestfriend. One day an interviewer ask if they are a thing and they say they're married but sarcastically (like Chris Evans and Elizabeth Olsen on Ellen show) and in the end they decided to just reveal it. Thank you!!

🗣️avaspeaks: i love this request so much!!! and i thoroughly enjoyed writing this one, and i hope i did it justice!

we decided to break the internet (ln4)

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡

introduction - lando and y/n were practically inseparable since childhood. building sandcastle empires on the beach, trading pokémon cards at recess, navigating the awkwardness of middle school together - they'd seen it all. what neither quite admitted, not even to themselves, was the secret crush simmering beneath the surface of their friendship. every time lando tried to impress a girl with his skateboard tricks, y/n would "accidentally" trip him mid-grind. and whenever y/n had a date, lando would "forget" to return her favorite dress, the one that made her feel invincible. their sabotage was childish, sure, but it stemmed from a fear of losing the other entirely. one summer night, sprawled on the hood of lando's beat-up car, gazing at a sky exploding with stars, something shifted. maybe it was the whispered secrets shared, or the way their laughter mingled with the chirping crickets. in that moment, childhood friendship flickered, ignited by a spark of something deeper, a love waiting to prosper.

the air crackled with anticipation as lando norris and a stunning y/n settled into the interview chairs. formula one fans adored their playful dynamic, convinced they were just best friends. little did anyone know, they'd been secretly married for over a year and a half.

"so," the interviewer began, a sly smile on his face, "the fans are curious. is there anything going on between you two, romantically?"

lando shot y/n a mock glare. "absolutely! infact we're married!!!," he deadpanned, throwing his head back in exaggerated shock.

the room froze. cameras flashed. y/n, stifling a laugh, gasped dramatically. "married and absolutely smitten with eachother! lando, haven't you told them about movie night and all the crying over sappy rom-coms?"

the audience erupted in gasps and whispers. even the other drivers, strategically placed in the back row, looked bewildered. carlos, oscar,max,charles,daniel,alex and george laughed silently into their hands.

lando, playing along, clutched his chest. "oh no, you can't tell them about that! what will the neighbors think of all the late-night screaming about popcorn refills?"

y/n doubled over, tears welling up (from laughter, not the fake movie marathons). "and the screaming matches over who gets the last slice of pizza? lando, you monster!"

the room buzzed with confusion. were they…? weren't they…?

the interviewer, clearly flustered, stammered, "wait, so… you're saying you have movie nights and… screaming matches?"

lando winked at the camera. "the usual newlywed stuff, you know?"

y/n, wiping a fake tear, added, "don't even get me started on the scooter races in the paddock."

the room descended into chaos. reporters scribbled furiously, phones buzzed, and drivers peeked over their chairs, jaws slack.

lando, barely able to hold back a real laugh, reached for y/n's hand. "alright, alright," he conceded, "we might be exaggerating a tad. movie nights are definitely a thing, though. y/n's a terror with the remote."

y/n swatted him playfully. "hey! at least i let you pick the action movies sometimes."

suddenly, y/n did something unexpected. with a flourish, she turned her hand, revealing a simple gold band with a sparkling diamond. the room fell silent.

"oh by the way we've actually married for about two years now," y/n raised an eyebrow at lando, a wide, mischievous grin spreading across her face. "forgot to mention that detail, did you?"

lando, speechless for once, could only stare at the ring, then back at the stunned faces around him. the dam broke. laughter, loud and genuine, erupted from them both. the tension in the room evaporated, replaced by a mixture of shock, amusement, and a touch of awe.

as the interview wrapped up, the secret was out. lando and y/n, f1's favorite "best friends," were husband and wife. the post-interview scrum was a whirlwind. questions flew, cameras flashed in their faces, and congratulations poured in. through it all, lando and y/n stuck together, their laughter echoing through the room, a testament to their love and their ability to surprise everyone, even the f1 world.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more! thanks for reading!

leave a like, leave a comment!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[love-quinn]

— THREAD OF GOLD

summary — a thread of moments that defined your relationship with mike.

warnings — uh i don’t think there are? me not caring about the irl timeline of events and making up my own shit cause i can. also i switch between past and present tense like nobody's business so we're all gonna pretend we don't notice that.

pairing — mike faist x fem!famous! reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 7.8k + social media posts

note — hi sorry i’ve been MIA i’ve been working on this for 5ever truly it came to me one day and i couldn’t write anything else. this isn’t edited because it’s nearly 8k and i’m not about that life.

important note that i tried to make it so yn’s skin tone changed in at least some of the pictures to make it more inclusive but pinterest fought me SO hard i spent maybe four hours just finding images. this is NOT meant to be a depiction of what yn looks like, just a general vibe of the images used in the thread <33

ONE. july 2017

California doesn’t have seasons the same way your hometown did. California has two seasons: wet and dry. You grew up in the suburbs of New York, in Westchester county, about an hour north of Manhattan. You went to the city a few times growing up, but you spent almost all of your upbringing on a quiet street with a cul-de-sac and a park a street away. 

You’d lived in California for a while, you were based there for most of the year, but you’d still say you lived in New York. You were lucky enough to be at a break between projects where you got to spend more than a few weeks at a time at your New York apartment. 

You’d been back maybe two weeks and knowing that you didn’t have to go back to the west coast for at least six months felt like a major weight off your chest. Finally retreating back to your cocoon, the air around you still felt thick, but this one felt more like a wall keeping things out rather than one keeping you in.

So, naturally, the first thing you did with your newfound seclusion was to venture outside with a man you’d been trying to go out with for a few months now. 

You and Mike had known each other for a little over half a year now. You’d met at a new year’s party hosted by a mutual friend of a mutual friend and you had known immediately that he was someone that you wanted to know desperately. You’d been elated that he seemed to reciprocate. Unfortunately, with your work schedules, this was the first time since January that you’d had enough time in the same state. 

He was unlike anyone that you had ever met, and now that you were in the same place, you were revelling in his presence. He’d taken you to a park near his apartment, he’d let you hold his hand on the subway and you were pretty sure that he was going to kiss you later. 

It had been a while since you’d been outside - like, properly outside, and Mike was enjoying how happy you seemed to be. While you’d been trying to organise yourselves, Mike had spent hours on the phone with you, trying to avoid sounding so disgustingly happy that he scared you off. This may have been your first real date, but Mike already knew that you were it for him. 

You were chattering about a story from your childhood, and he was really trying to listen to you, but he was focused more on the way the golden hour was hitting your face, and the way you would subconsciously squeeze his hand when you made yourself laugh.

“Yeah, since then my mom makes sure that she puts the cat treats away whenever he comes over,” you giggled. Mike let the sound fill him from the inside. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by you dropping his hand. “I’ve needed this,” you let your head fall back to bask in the dying sunlight. “Air that I’m not sharing with Buzzfeed HQ, grass that is made in real dirt.”

“I see,” Mike nodded seriously. “You’re not even here for me, you were just waiting for a guy to take you to see some trees.”

You reach back and grip his hand, eyes sparkling directly into his. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, “for knowing your place.”

He laughed and let you drop your hand again, watching fondly as you speed off in front of him, stopping maybe fifteen feet in front of him. “Will you come with me to the emergency room when I fall out of the tree I’m about to climb.”

Mike was sure you could see exactly how much he wanted to kiss you from the look on his face. He laughed, nodding. “That’s actually the next stop I had planned anyway.”

TWO. october 2017

You couldn’t remember dolling yourself up for a date in so long, but it was clearly paying off the way that Mike hadn’t let you out of arm’s reach the entire cab ride. You hand two hands on his arm and he’d been talking in your ear the whole ride. 

You were taking him to lunch at one of your favourite places in the city, quiet, not visible from the street, with a wonderful goat cheese salad. He’d been ecstatic that you were clearly showing him parts of your life that you kept close to your chest. 

The two of you had only been together properly for about three months now, but you’d known each other for nearly a year. Mike hadn’t really dated anyone in the industry before, definitely not publicly. 

You’d mentioned to him a few of your past dating experiences before, and you had been steadfast on the fact that if you were going to have a relationship that it would be as completely private as possible. 

Mike didn’t think he’d ever hesitated less to reply - he was all in, same page. It felt simultaneously too fast and too slow. You’d been dating for three months, sure, but he’d known you since January, and it had felt like that first seven months had been confirmation that he liked you again and again and again.

Mike had been calling you his girlfriend to everyone, his friends, his family, some of his closer co-stars. But as he sat across from you at the restaurant, he realised he hadn’t actually asked. 

He valued communication, he thought he was pretty good at it. But he’d settled into such a comfortable settlement with you that it had slipped his mind entirely. You didn’t mind. You were on the same page as him. 

You referred to him to those closest to you as your boyfriend. You weren’t sitting around, desperately waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend, if that’s how you felt you would have asked him before you got to this point. 

The two of you were doing what you usually did, you ordered a few different things with the intention of sharing, and Mike, as usual, was way more interested in what you had picked than he had. 

You were giggling across the table at him, watching the way the breeze from the window by your table kept blowing his hair into his mouth. .”Here,” you took the scrunchie from your own hair and stood up, coming to a rest behind him. 

He tilted his head back - good for him, he could see your face; bad for you, you couldn’t grab all his hair - while you worked and after a second you’d tied his hair up out of his face. 

You moved to return to your seat, but he half-lifted himself from his chair to make sure he got to kiss you before you left. “Thank you, honey,” he said softly. Your thumb rubbed his cheek with a soft touch.

“‘s okay,” you mused, looking at him. He loved the look you got in your eyes when you were fully concentrated on his face, he wondered if he got the same look when he saw yours. “You look cute.”

“Says you,” he mumbled, looking down at your outfit. He could tell you’d put in extra effort, he wanted you to know it hadn’t been for nothing. “Y’look so pretty today, can’t believe I get to be the one here with you.”

You giggled, preening under his thoughtful gaze. You could feel your cheeks growing warmer, but you made yourself not look away from him. “Yeah?”

He turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand. “Can’t believe I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend properly,” he sounded so positively disappointed that you couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, it’s embarrassing.”

You giggled a little bit harder. “Oh, baby,” you let your thumb brush his lips, soaking in the way he kissed the pad of the finger. “Can’t be embarrassed, I didn’t even realise.” Mike hummed in question. “Don’t know,” you shuffle in place. “in my head you’ve been my boyfriend for like six months.”

“Thank god,” Mike laughed, letting his head drop. “Quick, sit down, I need to ask you to be exclusive so I can tell people that I did.”

You pause for a second before nabbing the fork on his plate, scooping up a piece of chicken before sitting back in your chair. “Go on, then, boyfriend.” You take a bite. “Get it over with, I’m hungry.”

THREE. december 2017

You were curled into Mike’s side when you got the text. You didn’t usually look at your phone when the two of you were together, but he was watching a documentary about something that didn’t interest you, while you were reading a book on your phone. 

He had his hand sitting on the back of your neck, knuckles brushing a line from the nape to the top of your shoulder. It was one of your costars from an earlier project, sending you a link.

“LMAOO not people”

It was a People magazine article, one that instantly had you rolling your eyes. Mike sensed your shift in mood and laid his palm flat on the curve of your shoulder. “Okay?”

“People says we’ve been together since…” you scrolled through the article.” “October last year,” you snickered. 

“Cant believe you didn’t tell me.” Mike let his head fall back against the sofa. “I wish,” he said as an afterthought. 

“You didn’t even know me back then,” you pointed out.

Mike leaned forward and kissed your temple. “Still,” he said, concretely no but with supreme amounts of gentleness. “I’m sure I would’ve wanted you with great desperation.”

You and Mike had gone through conversations before about revealing your relationship to the public. You had little to no intentions of doing that, especially not so soon. But you’d wanted to manage expectations.

You’d become famous young, not as young as some, you’d only been twenty when you landed your first major role. You’d done principal photography during your summer break in college, working towards getting your degree, and by the time you graduated you had two feature films and one golden globe nomination under your belt.

You’d had a college boyfriend at the time, it had ended naturally, not without pain, but not as a result of your blossoming career. The magazines had eaten it up, though, with all sorts of speculations. 

You didn’t want that again. You didn’t owe them anything. And you were so grateful that Mike seemed to share the sentiment. You were so grateful to your fans but you knew at the end of the day that they didn’t own you, which is why you were not above lying to them to keep them out of your life. 

Especially when the comments of the post were already filled with dozens of suggestions to who it could be. Not when your friends, your coworkers, or random strangers who hadn’t done anything other than be someone people thought you might like if you met them, we’re getting their personal lives dug into in order to confirm a suspicion that a stranger had about you.

Not when you were curled up in the arms of one of the kindest most charming men you’d ever known, one that you might even want to spend the rest of your life with. He definitely didn’t deserve this, and neither did you.

So, you went into your camera roll and found a selfie you’d sent to one of your friends a few days earlier. You typed up a short sentence and then hit post on your Instagram story without thinking too hard about it. 

When you showed it to Mike he smiled endearingly. “Aw man,” he mumbled, pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me we broke up.”

FOUR. march 2018

Days on set were long, they were often exhausting, and they were where you’d thrive.

You’d finally wrapped after thirteen hours, and the first thing you did when you got your phone out of your trailer was to text Mike. 

He was in New York still, but you guys had been speaking as often as you could. With him three hours in front of you, it often ended up in the two of you just missing each other. Mike had texted you four hours earlier while you’d been filming.

You look pretty here. 

It’s a Vanity Fair video that you filmed about a month ago with one of your costars. It was a movie about love, being in love, loving people, loving places, loving time. Your character was the main romantic love interest to the main character, and she was one of your favourite characters that you’d ever played. A young woman who finds love in her career, love in her family, and eventually begins giving it to the main character. You and your costar had become very close, and you were talking candidly to them in the video about your experience with love. 

Mike had sent you a screenshot of the video, where you’re smiling across to your costar. It had been a simple question they’d asked; have you ever been in love. 

Now, you couldn’t say blatantly, “yes, I have a boyfriend.” And you couldn’t say that for two reasons. Number one, you and Mike had been so careful to the point where you didn’t even think your fans knew that the two of you were aware of each other, let alone that his tongue had been in your mouth. 

And number two was that you hadn’t actually told Mike that you loved him. You did, god you did. You probably would have told him months ago if things were more normal. If you both worked 9 to 5s, you lived primarily in the same city, you could go on dates and pull him over to the side of the sidewalk, interrupting him mid-sentence to kiss him.

Unfortunately, you’d spent months apart, and while you spoke multiple times a day, at least through texts, it felt like not the right time.

You try to brush off your smile as you reply to him. Stop ittt you’re giving me an ego <333. In that exact moment, you know what you’d been spewing some media trained answer that avoided mentioning your partner but still felt authentic. “I’m just really glad that I spent most of my early twenties trying to find myself before trying to find someone else, I guess.”

Mike took a moment to reply. Guess you didn’t find me :( 

You giggle as you finish changing back into your own clothes out of the costume you’d just been wearing, ready to head home now that your last scene of the day had concluded. Nope! You sought me out 100% I actually have no idea who you are. 

That time the reply was instant. This is awkward then. What else is instant is the knock on your trailer door, the way you wrap your arms around him once you’d thrown open the door, and the knowledge that you’re going to tell him that you love him.

FIVE. september 2018

Mike knows that most people are more nervous to meet their girlfriend’s parents than he currently is, and ironically that actually does make him nervous. 

It wasn’t really his first time meeting them, he’d spoken to them on the phone before and he’d even texted your mom a couple of times when you’d asked him to. You’ve been his girlfriend officially for almost an entire year, but the two of you both agreed that you felt you’d been together since July of the year earlier. That was over one whole year together. Even if your parents didn’t like him - which, based off the amount that not only he’d spoken to them, but you’d talked about him, seemed almost impossible - it wasn’t going to be the be all or end all. 

But he wanted your mom’s birthday brunch (of which she was very serious about) to go well as his first official family event that he attended as your boyfriend. 

The two of you were getting ready at his place, as you do most days that you’re in New York. You spend maybe two or three months in your home state and as you and Mike are together for longer and longer, you spend as much time together as you can. Mike had not only let you spend every second you could at his apartment, he’d actively encouraged it. 

You’re wearing an outfit he’s seen on you a hundred times, standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he ducks in to grab his phone. He stops behind you, watching you apply mascara, and places both his hands on your shoulders. 

“Love you,” you say absent-mindedly, trying to focus on not stabbing yourself in the eye.

He squeezes your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck, the closest part he can reach. “Love you more. I’m ready to head out whenever you are.”

You lean back so your face is no longer just inches from the mirror. “Reservation’s at 11 so we should probably leave soon,” you say. “Give me five or so minutes.”

You let him hold your hand the entire way to the restaurant, knowing exactly how nervous he is. He’s a grown man, he knows your mom already loves him, but he appreciates that you don’t say any of this as he follows you into the restaurant.

Your mom is already there, with two seats beside her that Mike knows are reserved for you, and she leaps out of her chair at the sight of you. You greet her with a hug and a happy birthday, having let Mike hold the gift so he felt less like he was coming empty handed (you’d bought it together).  The second you’re out of her path, she’s coming for him. “Oh, it’s so lovely to finally get to meet you!” She’s gushing over him and he’s trying not to look embarrassed in front of you. 

He fits right in with your family, sitting on your left hand side while you sit pride of place beside your mom. He gets caught up in one of your mom’s friend’s conversations (“Oh I just adore Broadway, what’s it like?”) and that’s when your mom takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper over her bellini to you. 

You lean in so you can hear her without much strain. 

“I’ve never seen you look this happy.”

You beam back at her. 

SIX. november 2019

You’re thinking of selling your California apartment. 

You know it’s probably a bad idea, and that because you spend so much time in LA, it’s good to have a place to call home. But you also feel like it’s keeping you tied to the west coast. That you’re more likely to spend more time in California if you have a place there, and that’s not something that you want anymore. 

You’ve been in California for the last nine months, it’s been longer than that since you’ve seen your family, your friends, or your boyfriend. You missed your two-year anniversary because you spent the day on set and Mike wasn’t able to fly out due to his work schedule. 

You have your co-stars, people you spent months with every day that you genuinely enjoy being around - one of them you even worked with on a past project, you spend a lot of your free time with them between takes - but it’s not the same.

And now you’re done. You have over seven months until press from this movie begins and then you have to start working again. Normally, you’d stay in California while you looked for another project to latch onto, but that wasn’t what you wanted to do. 

You missed Mike, plain and simple. He was in New Jersey filming a movie, but that’s about as far away as he’d be if he was in New York. You knew of plenty of actors who didn’t live in LA and still made it work just fine, and as far as home states went, you could definitely have done worse than New York. 

“I think if it’s something you want to do you should look into it.” You’d called your boyfriend to have him either talk you into or out of it, but frustratingly all he’s done is point out that it’s your apartment and that he’d be kind of an asshole if he pushed his opinion on your assets onto you. 

“I want your opinion,” you let out a dramatic sob, sitting at your kitchen counter. Your phone is on speaker while you’re on your laptop, answering emails. 

Mike laughs, it’s crackly through the phone but you know the ins and outs, the layers of breath. “My opinion is that you should do what feels right for you, and I’ll back you up no matter what.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, changing tabs to instead look through your camera roll. You had a few days left to post one of your monthly photo dumps, something you much preferred to posting consistently. There was one photo that your camera roll had put in the forefront, of you at dinner with Mike and two of your mutual friends to celebrate his 27th birthday. You’d taken the photo almost eleven months earlier, and hadn’t done anything with it, but you did think you looked cute.

“I love you,” he offers instead.

You hum in response, bringing up the photo. “Is it weird if I post a photo from your birthday dinner? You’re not in it, obviously.”

He laughs at your bluntness. “Right, because why would I be in it? It’s only my birthday.”

That brings you out of it. “No, wait,” you giggle.  “Just cause I don’t want them to know that it’s your dinner, idiot.”

Mike groans. “I was gonna ask when you next are coming home but I actually don’t care anymore about it.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me what to do about my apartment.”

“Forgive me?”

“Fine, I love you or whatever.”

Mike laughs again, and you don’t even notice the crackles. “Or whatever.”

SEVEN. november 2019

You don’t think you’ve laughed this hard in a while. 

“I’m sorry,” she moans, leaning on your shoulder. 

You’re with one of your closest friends, sitting on your sofa, almost crying with laughter. You’d been staying with her while the sale of your California place was going down, with every intention of moving back home to New York after it was done. She’d commented on your yearly photo set, talking about a photo of you and your mom, and you’d realised exactly where people’s minds would go.

“No,” you giggle, “I was the one who decided to be messy and post the photo.” You’d posted a photo that had been taken of you and Mike when he’d come to visit you on set the year earlier. Everyone knew it was old, you’d thought it was funny, and sure you had probably revealed a little bit too much about your relationship, but Mike had thought it was funny too, so that was enough for you.

Your favourite part, though, was that not a single person had commented, tweeted, messaged you asking who he was, if he was your boyfriend, or what was happening. You hadn’t seen a single person give a fuck. 

The two of you had been sneaking around like teenagers and literally no one had cared, so Mike had allowed you to be a little messy on your Instagram feed. 

“If I’m the reason you and Mike get doxxed you can feel free to post any blackmail you have of me,” she promises. You can tell she feels awful about the possibility of having just exposed your multi-year long relationship, but if you’re honest you think it’s kind of funny. 

You wave her off. “No, I guarantee no one even cares. Worst case scenario someone asks, you just tell them you were talking about the photo of me and my mom, it’s so fine.”

The reason that you’d posted that photo now was because when it had been taken, things were definitely too new to be making hints towards it, and you would have posted a more recent picture but that was literally the only one of the two of you you could fine. 

And the best part was while all this was happening, so blatantly obvious to everyone who knew, you still got so many comments, dms - fucking interview questions - asking if you had a boyfriend, and every single time you’d either dodge it or outright say no. 

Your phone vibrated; a text from Mike. 

Rachel told me she hasn’t seen a single tweet about it and if anyone would have seen it it would be her.

yeah i run a stan account of you and haven’t put my phone down in 8 years - rachel :))))) She sends an entire row of kisses with hers. 

You’d met his costar a few times, only over the phone, and he sent you pictures of the two of them together on set often. You heart her message, giving his a thumbs up and knowing that she’d appreciate that. 

“See, it’s fine.” You show your friend. 

She breathes an audible sigh of relief. “In my defence you did post the photo.”

EIGHT. june 2020

The plan had been in the works for six months before it got derailed. Your California apartment had officially been sold, and you were set to move in to Mike’s place until you settled back in. Once things had calmed down with work for the two of you, you were going to start looking for your own place together. 

You’d ended your lease in your New York place, you had all of your stuff - not that you carted much around with you anyway - most of the furniture you had came with the place, and you’d donated or sold most of it. You had been living off of display furniture and minimal decorating, knowing that wherever it was would sit vacant most of the time anyway. This was going to be it, where you finally started building a life, and you’d be doing it with Mike. 

And then the country had gone into lockdown and, after a very lengthy conversation, the two of you had decided to relocate back to Columbus, Ohio, where he had a place for when he went to visit family.

It had been a fast move, but you’d planned for every thing that you possibly could have. Your family was safe, in New York, and you knew that was the best place for them to be. Your dad had an autoimmune disorder, so you knew that even if you were living in the city you wouldn’t be able to visit them much anyway. After three years with Mike, spending most of your relationship states away, you couldn’t let him leave without coming with him. 

So, there the two of you were. In Mike’s house in Ohio, one that was entirely familiar to him and somehow, it felt that way to you as well. Like you knew him so well that anything he knew was something you instinctively understood. 

Despite how long you’ve known Mike, how long you’ve loved him, you feel a bit like you’re taking over his space. Like when he moves something to make room for one of your trinkets that you’re minimising him in his own home.

He doesn’t let you think that for long. Sometimes you’ll come into your shared bedroom and find him rearranging his bookshelf so your books fit too, moving his Grammy to a shelf where there’s enough room for it to sit beside your awards, changing the sheets to a set that you’d picked out. 

You’ve been a successful working actor for the last eight years now, for almost five of them you’ve forgotten what it’s like to go outside and not worry that you’re going to be spotted. 

Sure, when you go outside now, you’re masked and there’s less people outside to recognise you. But to the people you do run into, you’re not an actor to them, not a celebrity, not anything. You’re Mike’s girlfriend. 

You can understand how that’s frustrating, you are your own person, but after three years of being together but constantly apart, you’re okay with your neighbours knowing you simply as Mike’s girlfriend. 

Now that you’re always in the house your screentime goes way down, you don’t need to text him anymore. All of the things that had you stressed and anxious to leave the house for have changed. And of course the state of the world is by no means good, but if everything is going to be happening anyway, you’re glad that you’re able to be with him during it. 

NINE. october 2020

You had become a bit of a homebody in the 9 months that you’d been living in Ohio. You only ever left the house when Mike did, and you didn’t go with him every time. Mike can tell it’s starting to wear on you a little bit. 

So, in an effort to pick yourself up a bit more, you’ve started doing all the grocery shopping. You and Mike make a list together so as to not give you all the mental load with it, but you walk down the few blocks to the small general store.

It’s convenient, a nice place, with a pharmacy attached to one side and a bakery on the other. Sometimes you take Austin and the girl who works at the bakery puts a bowl down for him while you go in and get your medication.

Sometimes you drive, when you have the aching exhaustion that only comes with being sad for hours on end, or when it’s raining, but the fresh air and just the act of being outside was usually enough to make you feel better.

It was late, and the pharmacy was closing soon when you realise you’d forgotten to pick up your medication, so it’s a no brainer that you’ll zip down and grab it while Mike makes dinner. 

You’ve slowly started setting down roots here, the shop assistants know your name and your prescription, they know you and Mike have officially moved into the mostly vacant house a few streets away, and they know that you seem like you’re maybe not always doing the best, because they’re always extra kind to you when you need it.

You like the domesticity. Sitting on the kitchen counter while goes through the fridge, telling you what to write down. Walking his dog - Austin absolutely loves you, which Mike did tell you is normal for most people - or holding his hand with his spare one on the leash. 

You’ve been really tired lately, and despite the fact that it’s meant to be your time to be by yourself and get fresh air, you find yourself in the kitchen, arms around your boyfriend’s waist. “Please?” You ask. 

Mike’s stirring something cheesy on the stove. You can smell it behind the wall of his cologne, the smell of wood and cinnamon. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he laughs and you feel the vibrations where your cheek is pressed to his back. “It’ll be cold by the time we get back.”

Your voice is small, and he knows he has zero intention of actually saying no to you, but he’s wondering if you’ll change your mind given a little bit of coaxing. 

“We have a microwave.” He wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t so close to him. 

He loves you, and he’s also not blind. He can see you’re struggling. He likes to think he knows exactly when to give you space, and when you need him there. He puts the spoon down on the cutting board he has beside the stove and turns off the gas. “Okay,” he says comfortingly. 

You brighten, and he feels you stand up straighter. “You’ll come with me.”

Mike doesn’t even pretend to think about it this time. “Of course I will.”

TEN. february 2021

Press was finally happening for your project that you had filmed all the way back towards the end of 2019, and with that came your first ever zoom interview. It was a bit awkward, you’d never really liked doing press much face to face but now online it was worse. 

You and Mike had both found it a bit weird. He’d done a bit more of it in 2020 than you had, so you’d asked if he’d be in the room where possible to help ease your nerves. 

You were in your bedroom, set up at the designated Work Spot. You and Mike had made an agreement, no work was to be done outside of the Work Spot. It was the only thing that stopped it bleeding into your everyday life, especially now that you were working from home. 

Mike was out of frame so you could still see him, sitting in the corner reading a book. He’d glance up at you every single time you looked at him, like he could feel that you needed him. 

Things were going well, it wasn’t a standard interview with an interviewer, but rather you’d been given a list of questions that the group of you took turns asking the others and then answering yourself. 

There was a bit there where you knew you had a note written down about something important, but you’d written it on Mike’s phone. It was the only one near you at the time, and you were actively regretting it now.

You muted yourself on your computer and tried to subtly gesture for him. He notices you immediately and comes to stand right beside him. 

“Can I grab your phone really quick?” He hands it over.

“You okay?” He asks, wary of the camera he’s standing just outside of frame of. 

You unlock his phone and open up his notes app, trying to find what you’re doing. Mike didn’t have a phone case until you met him, but you’d cajoled him into a clear on“Did you…” you hum. “Did you move my note?”

You handed Mike back his phone and told him what he’s looking for and he scrolled for a second. “No?” He frowned. “Uh…” he bites his lip. “Oh wait, I cleared out a bunch of stuff hang on.”

You can hear everyone else, so you know no one has clocked your absence yet. “Found it,” he hands you back his phone and pulls up the one. “This one?”

“Love you,” you say in lieu of an answer. He gives you a look that makes a smile worm its way onto your face. 

Mike goes to sit back down as you skim through your note, ready to have your talking points ready. “Love you,” he calls back. 

When it’s eventually your turn to answer, you turn your microphone back on like nothing ever happened. And your costars, who all knew everything were was to know about exactly who you’d been talking to, all kept their mouths shut too. 

ELEVEN. august 2021

The material of your dress was scratching his skin, but Mike couldn’t seem to mind when you were so deliriously happy. In one hand you had a glass of champagne and in the other a beautiful bouquet of flowers that you’d snatched from the air after it had left the hands of your childhood best friend. 

People had been giving him knowing looks about it since then, upturned smirks and elbows to his ribcage. Mike laughed it off. The two of you were good, and he knew that you weren’t the type of girl to expect a proposal just because she caught the bouquet. 

Over the course of the night he had stood by, chatting idly with another group of plus ones. He’d met your best friend countless times, but there was no denying that he would not have been invited if he hadn’t been with you for the last four years. He was just happy that you seemed to be having a good time. 

Eventually, you staggered over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You weren’t drunk, didn’t need to be, you were simply so elated to not only be able to leave the house without feeling anxious but also to be able to celebrate your best friend getting married. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” He chuckled, your nose pressed to his adam’s apple. 

You hummed. “Yeah. Tired. Happy. Miss you,”

He ran his hand along the back of your dress, cringing at the material. “‘M right here.” 

The night was winding down, it was out in a big greenspace that they’d rented, the sun had well and truly set. You were basking in the glow of the massive outdoor lamps they’d set up, and they bathed you in a golden hue. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said genuinely. “I’m really happy.”

You were swaying on the spot slightly to the faded jazz playing in the background, and he let his arms envelope you, pulling you impossibly close to him. “Of course, baby,” he’s beaming wide, his voice low and soft. You can hear how happy he is.

It’s your first time being back in New York since you left, your longest stretch away from your home state in your whole life. The two of you have started looking for work again now that things are starting to open up. Mike’s riding the high of his West Side Story performance, he’s been getting offers since it came out. He hasn’t taken any of them, though, instead focusing on smaller things that he likes more. The TV show he’d spent a while filming in Texas had been cancelled, which was a shame because you really enjoyed watching TikTok edits of him in that. 

Instead, he’d been waving off scripts his agents sent him. He’d been asked to do a screen test in a movie in the UK, but he didn’t seem to interested in it. The most interesting thing about it was that his screen test was apparently with Zendaya, so you’d encouraged him to go just to meet her. 

Things are picking up again. Your agent’s sending you offers and auditions and after two years of not being on set you’re itching to get back.

But, getting back meant going back. 

You’d settled in Columbus. You didn’t want to leave, but you and Mike both knew that you’d have to go back to New York. 

It was something that you’d been talking about for a while, getting another place in New York. You’re fortunate enough that it’s something you’re able to afford, and it seems like a good idea. It doesn’t need to be discussed tonight, though. 

Instead, you ask him quietly, “Are we ever gonna get married?”

Mike mused, “Do you want to?”

You’re playing with the longer strands of hair on the back of his neck. “I think I might. With you.”

“Yeah?” He asks. He feels so warm inside there’s glee practically pouring from him. 

“Not right now, though,” you admit. “I think I want more of a career before I’m willing to become known as someone’s wife.” Mike knows exactly what you mean, and that even though you eventually want to be his wife, that regardless of what you’ve accomplished, from that moment on there will be people who know you exclusively as ‘Mike Faist’s wife.’ At this point in time, you’re not even known as his girlfriend, a fact that the two of you enjoy. 

“You just let me know,” he hums. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

You’ve been together almost four and a half years now and still no one knows. You don’t really need people to. 

You kiss his jaw and reach down to take off your heels, complaining about your feet. He takes them from you and watches as you make your way back towards your friends. He knows he’s going to ask you one day, and he knows you’ll say yes. The two of you know just how much you love each other. You don’t need anyone else to just yet. 

TWELVE. november 2021

So, a new arrangement has been reached. You n’t living in New York permanently but you have a lease on a place together. You’re back to doing live press, with the movie finally being shown in theatres. To be completely honest, you’re pretty much done with press on this movie. When you were cast in it three years ago, you didn’t expect that you would still be doing it. 

Mike is sympathetic but amused. They haven’t organised the screen test for that one movie yet but that’s because the director was working on another project and the one Mike had been scouted for had been pushed back for a short period. 

Sometimes companies will send you a car to come to your interview, but you take the subway home. Mike comes with you most times, more than happy to come tag along and sit in a room with your stuff and bring you your water bottle between shoots. 

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him genuinely the fourth time he does it. He kisses your forehead. “You didn’t have to come with me, I appreciate you.”

He hums as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “I need to earn my keep somehow, I’ve been your stay at home boyfriend for like two years.”

You giggle around the straw of your water bottle, softening at the way he reaches to take it from you. “And your services have been appreciated and they will be missed when you inevitably book again.”

It’s not something that you expect to be so comforted by. The knowledge that wherever you’re living - Ohio, New York, California, wherever, even if you’re in different states - that you just love being around him. No matter how much time he spends with you, he doesn’t get sick of you, you don’t get sick of him. 

You’re infinitely happier when he’s within arms reach than when he’s not. 

“Only book I care about is the one I’m reading over there,” he leans in to kiss you briefly. The director of the shoot gives out the five minute warning to roll into the next section, Mike takes your phone and water bottle and heads back to his corner. 

It’s almost comedic, the way that the producer immediately starts the next section with asking you “Do you have a celebrity crush?”

You have to make a conscious effort to not look over at Mike, even though you know he’s watching you. 

“Uh,” you laugh awkwardly, “I don’t really have one.”

Your coworkers’ faces are stone, and you don’t know if that make you want to laugh more or not. You keep your eyes directed straight at the barrel of the camera and you know everyone’s going to see how uncomfortable you are. 

“I guess having one when…” you struggle to find the right words, “when you are where I am in life, is just kind of weird,” you laugh again. “It feels wrong, I don’t know.”

You finally let your gaze land on your boyfriend. He’s smiling at you, and you calm immediately knowing that even once you’re out of this building, back on the train to your one bedroom, your hand in his, sharing earbuds, he’ll be there. 

THIRTEEN. april 2022

“Tell me again, what she said,” your feet are in Mike’s lap. You have people over, and you can’t imagine being happier. Your apartment is bustling, a charcuterie board that you are very proud of on the kitchen counter. You still have New Years decorations up, and there’s music playing. Mike got back from his screen test a week ago, and you’re revelling in his presence again. 

Mike takes a sip of his drink and moves so he’s resting his arm on your calf. You have a few of your friends sitting on the sofas around you, hanging on to every word. “She told me to tell you-”

You interrupt him, too excited “She brought me up!” You giggle over your champagne. 

Mike giggles, the side of his mouth pinching up with his smile. “Zendaya wanted me to tell you that she had just seen your most recent movie, and that she thought you were really good in it.”

You flail back so you’re resting on the arm of a friend. “Zendaya knows my name.”

One of your friends puts his drink down on the coffee table. “Don’t you guys have a Grammy in your bedroom, why are you surprised by this?”

“It’s not mine,” you roll your eyes, tipsy off the champagne and drunk on the party. “I would never take credit for my wonderful boyfriend’s accomplishment.”

“She’s taken so many selfies with it,” the friend you’re leaning on chimes in. 

Mike laughs and almost as if by magnet you’re trying to get closer to him. Your head comes up beside his, resting on the wall behind the couch, his hand on the back of your neck. 

You don’t even know what you’re celebrating. Just being able to have people over, having a space to have them in. Having someone you’d want to host a party with. 

“Okay, and?” you shoot back. “You’ve taken selfies with me.”

He’s kissed the hollow of your collarbone, his hair, getting longer now, tickling your neck. You love him so much, you’re surprised there’s enough room in the apartment for all your guests with how much space it’s taking up. 

The apartment itself is obviously a new development in your life, but the area isn’t. Just two streets over is the apartment you were living in when you met Mike. Barely furnished, not decorated, not lived in. 

A place so physically close to the room you’re sitting in with a group of people you love more than life, but that couldn’t have possibly been further away. Now you have family pictures on the wall, you have his toothbrush right beside yours. You have a ticket to the show of Dear Evan Hansen you went and saw right when you two got together, sitting front row in the audience and marveling in the fact that the man onstage liked you, pride of place in your clear phone case. He has a ticket stub from that time a theatre in Columbus was playing a rerun of your feature film debut and he’d dragged you with him to go see it wedged in his. You have a delicate chain around your neck with an M on it so well hidden it might as well be lost to legend, he has your first initial hanging on his keychain.

It’s been five years, three lived-in states, several hundred shared meals, and an apartment just two streets away, but as you laugh at a story someone is telling, your cheek pressed against Mike’s, you’ve never felt closer to home.

[nicorobinohara]

The Meeting of Minds.

—————————————————————————

-Aunt scientist of Senku-

(OC-seiko)

Part 2:

Seiko and Gen advanced quickly through the underground tunnels, the smoke still dissipating behind them. The mentalist still had his heart racing, but he did not miss the opportunity to release a witty comment.

- I have to admit, Seiko-chan, you made a phenomenal entrance! But run away from Xeno like that? Uuuh, he's definitely intrigued.

Seiko smiled from the corner, without slowing down.

- He gets used to it.

As soon as they left enemy territory, Seiko slowed down and checked Gen.'s state. His wrists were marked by the ties, but nothing serious. She took a small bottle from her pocket, pouring a soothing liquid over the wounds.

- Wow, a real apothecary. - Gen joked.

Seiko just rolled her eyes before they continued the escape.

———————————————

-Days Later-

Seiko knew that Xeno wouldn't be quiet after that. She had studied his mind even before meeting him in person. He wasn't a man who left unfinished business, especially when someone surprised him.

So, he wasn't surprised when he received an unusual message.

When he returned to his improvised camp, a small note was stuck in one of his supply boxes. The paper had a fine finish, the refined and precise calligraphy.

"Seiko.

Running away without a proper farewell doesn't suit someone of your level.

I suggest a more... civilized date.

I have a proposal that may interest you.

Location: Old observatory, at sunset.

- Xeno Houston Wingfield"

Seiko read the message a few times. A date? Civilized? This could be a trap, but Xeno wasn't so predictable. He wouldn't attack her directly. If it were, it would be a mental dispute, a game of strategy and influence.

And she loved a good challenge.

————————————————

The sunset dyed the sky orange and gold tones when Seiko arrived at the old abandoned observatory. The ruins of the place still preserved its stalence, even covered by time.

Xeno was already there, sitting on a makeshift table. His calm and analytical look swept Seiko's figure when she appeared.

- I'm glad you came.

- If I didn't come, you would try another method to attract me. - Seiko replied with a slight smile.

Xeno gestured to a chair on the other side of the table.

- Please, sit down.

Seiko analyzed the scene before settling in. On the table, there was a small chess game assembled, the pieces already positioned for the beginning of a match.

She raised an eyebrow.

- Do you plan to test me?

Xeno smiled.

- Testing would be disrespectful. I would say it's more... a way to keep our conversation interesting.

Seiko took the first pawn and moved it on the board.

- So let's get straight to the point. What do you want from me, Xeno?

The scientist rested his chin on his crossed hands.

- I want to understand you.

Seiko kept her gaze fixed on his.

- And what exactly do you want to understand?

Xeno moved his piece calmly.

- You're an interesting anomaly. His mind shines as much as Senku's, but his pragmatism is much sharper. You have skills that go beyond theoretical science. Medicine, pharmacy, engineering... You don't just create, you take care, something that is missing in many brilliant minds.

Seiko laughed softly.

- Are you trying to praise me to convince me of something?

Xeno tilted his head slightly.

- I'm just exposing facts.

She made another move on the board.

- And what is your proposal?

Xeno intertwined his fingers.

- Work with me.

The silence between them was cutting.

Seiko laughed softly, without breaking eye contact.

- Do you really want to try to recruit me to your side?

- It's a waste to have you against me.

Seiko sighed, taking a piece from the board and turning it between her fingers.

- You and Senku have a common problem.

- And what would it be?

- To think that they are always one step ahead of others.

Xeno laughed, genuinely amused.

- So you would refuse without even considering?

Seiko looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes.

- I never said that.

Xeno arched an eyebrow, intrigued.

Seiko got up, leaving the chess game unfinished.

- Do you want to understand me, Xeno? Good luck.

She began to move away, but before disappearing, she cast a last look over her shoulder.

- We'll see each other again.

Xeno watched as she walked away, a smile slowly appearing on her lips.

- Yes... we'll definitely see each other.

And so, the match between them just began.

—————————————————————————

Just an image of how seiko would be:

[xlatiwritesx]

Mbappe angst where his family thinks you might be using him but then they see the real you and they feel bad

There for Him | KM9

Genre: fluffy angst (🤨?)

Words: 1.9 K

Synopsis: after his best friend’s funeral, you spend the night at Kylian’s family home to be there for him. Unintentionally, you prove to his family that everything they though of you was false.

A/N: took me a million years, but here you go, anon!! Hope you enjoy it 🥰.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

The rain was hard. As if the sky understood the hurt that was caused by the event you were standing in and was crying with you.

Your eyes never left him. You didn't get too close, though. You knew him too well to get too close too soon.

Someone else you tried to avoid at all costs was his family. Specifically his mother. She never was fond of you. Accusing you of all sorts of things ever since you started dating her son. Calling you a gold digger, someone who only pretended to he in love with her son because of all his fame and money.

But even his mother didn't know Kylian like you did. She didn't know that he loved cooking. She had no idea that dancing under the stars made his eyes sparkle, or that driving was the best way to relieve his stress.

Just like everybody else, she saw him as a guy passionate and extremely talented with football. The brightest star in everyone's world, but no one saw how you were the brightest in his world.

You, Kylian, his brother Eathan, and their parents got in the car to go home. Kylian rode in the passenger seat while his father drove. You, Ethan, and his mother rode in the back. You still kept your eyes on Kylian, not baring to see him this broken.

He was just telling you how important his best friend was to him, just to lose him in a car crash a few weeks later. He wasn't crying, though. He never did. You hated that. You always told him to cry. That it's bad to keep emotions unprocessed. He never listened, though.

Not able to look at his stone face any longer, you looked out the wet car window to the French streets on your way to his family home. Your mind drifted to all the unnecessary drama his mother would stir because of your stay with them for the coming days. You didn't want Kylian to worry about that. You sighed quietly, already earning a glare from her that you managed to ignore.

When his father parked in the drive way, everyone got out of the car and dragged themselves to the front door. The atmosphere was suffocating. You held everything in as much as you could. It was Kylian who lost his best friend after all. You had to be there for him.

While his family walked in, he waited for you, looking back at you from the top of the porch steps with a slightly outstretched hand. You got to him, took his hand, and squeezed it. You glanced in his direction, but he had already looked ahead, guiding you upstairs to his bedroom.

You feel his family's eyes on the two of you as you passed them to the stairs. You didn't care. This wasn't about your relationship or about you. This was about Kylian and his well being. So you just followed him, holding his hand more tightly.

You get to his bedroom and he pushes the door behind the two of you. You stood by it, watching your boyfriend's every move. He sat on his bed, hands intertwined between his spread legs. You watched him closely as you slowly made your way to him. He didn't look at you once and you took it as a sign to keep going.

You finally sat next to him. You didn't say a single thing. You weren't sure if you were even breathing at that point.

"He's gone, y/n" Kylian finally said softly. Your heart shattered into pieces and his eyes flooded.

You uncontrollably pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around his head that he buried into your chest. His sobs slowly got louder and deeper, tearing you into shreds. You quietly held him tight, letting him cry it all out.

Behind the not fully shut door of Kylian's room, his mother stood, watching you hold on to him as he cried into your chest. She never saw his guard this down. She's never seen her own son be this vulnerable with anyone ever. She's never seen anyone hold him the way you did either. Something about the scene softened a part of her cold heart towards you. She started questioning who you really were to him and how you felt towards her son.

A few hours pass and you had managed to convince Kylian to lie down. He rested his head on your lap as you stroked his head to sleep. You allowed yourself to shed a few tears, unable to keep it together anymore.

His mother still watched, checking on the both of you through the slit in the door. Seeing this new scene only made the warmth spread through her heart. However, she quickly walked away when she saw you get up, slowly lifting Kylian's head off your lap to not disturb his sleep. 

You realized that Kylian hadn't eaten anything all day. You headed to the kitchen to make him something for when he wakes up. The bottom floor felt empty, having no one there. You wondered where everybody went, but you didn't give it much thought.

You opened the fridge, assessing the contents to get ideas of what you could make. You quickly looked behind you, though, having heard footsteps. You realize it's Kylian's mother. She had walked into the kitchen and sat on one of the kitchen island stools.

For a second, you stood there, watching her as you waited for her to attack you like she always did. She never wasted a chance to remind you of how she felt towards you. To falsely accuse you of all sorts of things. But when she didn't say anything, you turned back around to open the fridge.

You pulled out some turkey slices to make him a sandwich. You placed the ingredients on the kitchen island, Kylian's mother still watching you from across it. You focused on your task, careful not to trigger your boyfriend's mother who was scrutinizing your every move.

"Making food?" She finally spoke as you spread mayonnaise on one side of the white bread.

"For Kylian. He didn't eat anything since last night" you answered quietly, not looking at her. She still looked at you, though. Your heart picked up its pace, but you still avoided her gaze. You walked to the glasses cabinet, pulled out a glass and filled it with water.

After putting everything on a tray, you walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You got to Kylian's room and placed the tray on his bedside table. You sat on the edge of his bed, looking at his sleeping face.

"Y/n?" He stirred. You stroked his face.

"Yes, my love?" You whispered. He opened his eyes, and pulled you closer to him. You lied down next to him and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, kissing the top of your head.

You lied there. You let him hold you for as long as he wanted. You spent the night like that. None of you said anything. It was enough for him that he got to hold you. And it was enough for you that he did.

His mother watched all of it. How calm he was with you around. How he cried in your chest. The food you made for him because he hadn't eaten since the night before. She couldn't deny it anymore. You loved her son. More than she ever thought you could. And not for all the materialistic things that came with dating someone with a career like his.

She was sure of her son's feelings for you, how much you meant to him, because he never cried. She always thought he hated turkey sandwiches, but there he was eating it because you insisted, which also surprised her because ever since he was little, he never ate when he got sad or upset.

She watched you through the slightly opened door. She looked at the way you were looking at him. She wasn't sure if she, herself, ever looked at him like that.

"What are you smiling at?" She heard her husband whisper behind her. He looked at his son laughing for the first time in a week as you brushed bread crumbs from around his mouth.

Later that night, you walked down to the kitchen to fill a jug of water for the night you were spending. You weren't going to leave Kylian on a night like that.

His mother walked into the kitchen and sat on an island stool like she did earlier. You still ignored her presence and were on your way out of the kitchen when she called your name. You shut your eyes for a second before turning around to face her.

"Yes?" You replied cautiously. Even with the way she treated you, she was still Kylian's mother whom he loved and cherished more than anything. It killed you, but you had to respect her through everything she said and done to you. And it was about time she realized that.

You were taken aback by how soft her eyes were as she patted the seat next to her, inviting you to sit next to her at the kitchen island. You hesitated for a second before slowly making your way to the stool, setting the water jug in front of you.

You watched her closely, anticipating her next move. She just stared at her hands, though, sighing deeply before she turned to look at you.

"I owe you an apology" she broke the deafening silence. She shocked you so hard you almost fell out of your stool. You tried controlling you expressions, but you clearly failed because she quickly elaborated.

"I, I don't know how to start, honestly" she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. You just sat there in utter shock.

"Let's just say you've been absolutely supportive and I can tell that you've been an intangible source of comfort to Kylian ever since his best friend's passing" she went on. You pierced your lips and nodded once, looking at your hands in your lap. Silence took over for a few seconds before she kept going.

"I can tell he loves you a lot and..." she trailed off and you looked back at her.

"I'm actually really grateful to have someone like you in his life, given his career and all that comes with it, and especially during a hard time like this" she confessed and you couldn't help but tear up a little.

You smiled slightly at her and she did the same. You both stayed like that for a little while before she opened her arms. You laughed lightly and jumped off your stool to wrap your arms around her. She hugged you back tighter and you took it all in.

When you pulled away, you looked to your right and saw Kylian at the bottom of the stairs, smiling a little at the scene.

"You can't love her more than I already do, mom" he frowned, walking to you and pulling you to him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

"You don't have to say it. The way you look at her says it all, Kylian" his mother replied, smiling at the both of you.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Cooties - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Vi and Jinx reminisce about a lazy summer day...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

"Lose me? Or lose Powder?"

The question was posed lightly. But Vi sensed its weight. A spray of white sparks showered from the crane, the only light on the horizon. Vi's eyes burned, the way they did after a hard fight.

And the only way out was to fight harder.

"I miss her," she said, and the admission burnt a hole through her chest. "I miss the girl you were. The girl I could cheer up with a stupid joke, or a game, or just by braiding her hair. I miss knowing I could keep you safe just by tucking you into the crook of my arm."

Jinx stayed silent, her little finger twined with Vi's. Her warmth bled into Vi's skin. But it was a ghostly warmth, and Vi, suddenly afraid, longed to seize her sister's hand in both her own.

To hold on with everything she had.

"I remember the last time we came here," Vi went on. "You, me, Mylo, Claggor and Ekko. It was late afternoon. The sunlight was starting to bend in that wobbly way it does when you're running out of day. But the water was still warm, and I could see the sparkles on the surface. You and the boys were in the water, and I was watching from the ledge. I'd just had the crap kicked out of me in a street-brawl. There were bruises all over, and the chems in the water felt like salt rubbed in the cuts. But seeing you—laughing and splashing around—I just... I wanted to soak it in. Almost like I knew it'd be the last time."

Vi's eyes misted. She squeezed Jinx's pinky as tight as she dared.

"After, I must've dozed off. When I came to, the sky was all red. There was a little moon peeking behind the clouds. Mylo and Claggor were still swimming, and every stroke looked like a flame. I couldn't see you or Ekko. For a moment, I panicked, thinking maybe you'd drowned. Then I looked up, and there you both were, sitting right on this walkway. Both your heads were real close, and you were whispering to each other. There was something in Ekko's hands. All round and glittery. He was passing it to you. And then he—"

Jinx didn't move. But Vi swore something, a subdermal shiver, ran through her.

"He kissed me."

"He did." The mist in Vi's eyes blurred the cityscape—a rainbow caught in a raindrop. "A minute later, Mylo and Claggor started hooting. I realized they'd put him up to it. You burst into tears, and Ekko got all flustered, and I jumped to my feet. Mylo was closest to the ledge, so I grabbed him by the scruff, and dunked his ass under. Then I did the same to Claggor. By the time I was through, the two of 'em were coughing up a puddle. You'd run off, and Ekko was chasing after, babbling about how sorry he was, and that Mylo and Claggor'd told him if he didn't do it, you'd get a real kiss from a real boy, and wouldn't that be the saddest thing in the world?"

This time, a shiver did go through Jinx: a twinge that could've been a ghost-bite of laughter. Or tears.

"It was already the saddest thing in the world," she said. "He was showin' me a gyroscope he'd made outta a doorknob. But instead of a ball bearing, there was a glass marble inside. It was all sparkly, like a star, and had these different colors swirling around. I was trying to get a better look. Then Mr. Hot Lips went and planted a wet load of cooties on me. All while Mylo and Claggor howled like hyenas in the back. I was so angry. And, and confused. I nearly shoved him off the ledge."

"But you didn't." Vi's voice was husky. No tears, but close. "You ran straight to me."

"Straight to my Safe-Spot."

Vi squeezed Jinx's pinkie again, an impulse of tenderness. Together, they looked out at the dark water of the reservoir, a swipe of charcoal against glittering amber and gold.

"By then, Ekko was so scared, I thought he'd wet himself," Vi recalled. "That's the only reason I didn't smack him senseless. Instead, I gave him the what-for. He didn't say one word. Just stood there, sweating bullets, waiting for his doom. He was only ten, but I swear, he looked five. So did you, the way you were clinging to me. Like a pair of drowned kittens. But after I'd wound down, the first thing Ekko did was go up to you, super-serious, and tell you he was real sorry. He swore he'd never do it again. And when you looked at him, all doubtful, he held out the gyroscope, and said, 'D'you want it? I made it for you.'"

Jinx's eyes had gone half-lidded. Her profile, touched by the secondhand radiance, held a pensive prettiness. "I remember. I took the gift. And when he tried to give me a hug, I slugged him in the arm."

"He deserved it."

"Totally."

Vi could see the crooked little smile at the corner of Jinx's mouth. Her own, at a matching angle, ached with the bone-deep familiarity of it.

"The whole way back, I gave Mylo and Claggor the stink-eye. They were terrified I'd tell Vander what they'd done. So they hauled our gear without a peep.  I followed, with my arm around your shoulder. Ekko brought up the rear, all quiet and gloomy. By the time we got to the Drop, I'd worked myself into a good head of steam. I was ready to kick those two jackasses out of our room for the night. Before I could open my mouth, Vander hurried out and told us to get our asses indoors. There were Enforcers in the Lanes, and there'd be a shootout." Her smile faded. "We spent the night barricaded in the basement, with gunfire raging outside. Ekko stayed over too. You'd both made up by then. I remember, you were huddled together, the gyroscope spinning between you two, its colors flickering over the walls. You didn't care about the bullets. You were—happy. As happy as two kids with a brand-new toy. After, Ekko fell asleep in the hammock. You curled up against me, still holding the gyroscope. As you drifted off, all I could think was: I'll protect her. Always. I'll be her Safe-Spot, no matter what."

Jinx’s dipped lashes struck shadowy crowns against her cheeks. Her lower-lip quivered, then stilled. "No matter what, huh?"

"I just mean... I miss it. The certainty." Vi swallowed. "I miss that I didn't have to fight the whole damn world just to be your big sister. Because the truth is... you don't need me. Not anymore. The past's gone, and it's not coming back. There's only one direction. Forward. Some mornings, right when I wake up, I can almost buy it. Like we've got a second shot, and we can make it work."

"But?"

The query was posed without rancor. But its implications sunk like a stone in Vi's heart.

"But..." Salt clogged Vi's throat, and it hurt like hell. "But the next minute, I open my eyes. And the past's right there, and I can’t forget. I can never forget. Because you're not in the crook of my arm anymore. You're moving at light-speed, and I'm trying to keep up, and I can't. Not with the deadweight on my back. So much of who I am, built on who I used to be. The girl who kept her word, and kept you safe, and made Vander proud. And every day, I fall short, because the only way to move on is to let the deadweight go." The salt was pooling behind her lids, too; a wash of light and dark. "I can't do it. I can't let you go. Because if I do... I let go of myself."

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Would you be interested in writing a one-shot story of Lucio X Reader (The Arcana)? Like, it’s about people noticing that you two are genuinely in love, and it surprises the former.

A Day Off Together

|| Count Lucio x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; none, just fluff and flirty Lucio, short drabble

|| Summary; when Lucio and reader go through the market, a certain stall catches their eyes.

Requests open!

Started; November 2nd

Finished; November 2nd

~~~

To say people were surprised by you and Lucio... would be an understatement. Nobody would have expected the Count to fall so head over heels for anyone that wasn't his own reflection. He was absolutely smitten by you in every sense of the word. Even Nadia was surprised by his behaviour; as this was not the Count she used to know. And definitely not the man she had once called her husband.

Today was a beautiful day in the market. So, Lucio and you decided to go through on a stroll. Lucio made sure you knew that he would get you anything you asked for. Hell, if you wanted an entire market stall? It would be yours. All you would have to do is ask. Hand in hand the two of you walked. Just appreciating being in the presence of each other. Somedays it feels as though you don't get to see him as much as you'd like, with his duties as Count and yours as Court Magician. It was a much needed break for the both of you. A day off together.

You had originally planned on not getting anything. Not wanting your lover to spend more than needed, but- a stall caught your eyes. Well, how could it not? It practically called for attention in its beautiful sparkling gems that glittered in the sun. You were drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Lucio smirked. He knew how you worked by now, he wasn't as stupid as people pegged him for. He knew you. And knew you had originally come in not wanting anything other than each other's presence on a nice walk through the market. Internally he was laughing to himself and at you, only just a bit. In the most lighthearted way possible, of course. Wondering how you could have ever thought you would come into the market and not get a thing. He knew something would catch your eyes eventually. As they often did.

"Lucio.." You breathed, eyes wide in awe as you took in all the gems. Sparkling so bright you were sure they had to be enchanted, though you sensed no magic. They just caught the sunlight in all the right ways. Your fingers brushed feather light touches against a jewel, a jewel that was attached to a thin rose gold chain. The jewel itself was your favourite crystal. You'd noticed it before you even got to the stall. And you knew you had to have it. Lucio's hand came and rested on your shoulder, a gentle smirk on his lips as he saw the necklace you were admiring.

"You don't even have to ask, my love." He kissed your cheek, making you smile at the gesture. He had a real soft spot for you.

"We'll take this one here. And any one with the same crystals." Lucio told the stall owner, who quickly nodded and raced around his stall. Collecting the jewelry and putting them in little pouches for you. Lucio gave you a wink and your cheeks flushed.

"I only wanted the one-" You had started to say, but Lucio laughed and shook his head.

"Why settle for one when your beauty knows no bounds? It wouldn't be right." His arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you in close which got a giggle out of you. God, he was ridiculous. But he was yours. You loved him more than anything.

The merchant watched the two of you as he focused on his tasks, his eyes going to the Count. In all the years he's known him, this would have to be the most relaxed Lucio has ever been. It was surprising. He didn't think it was possible for someone to reel in such a free spirit as the Count; but it seems you have done just that. And all of Vesuvia was thankful for you. Lucio's been much more tolerable lately.

With your new jewelry, you and Lucio made your way out of the market. Lucio's hands came up from your hips, gently taking the pouch that held the necklace you'd originally wanted. He took it out of its holdings and rested it to your neck. A soft smile on his lips as he attached it to you. Earning a blush from you.

"You look absolutely perfect.." He murmured, gently pushing your hair aside and leaving a kiss on the skin there. His lips brushing the back of your neck in a way that made you shiver.

"Mm... thank you." You whispered back and his golden fingers latched around your hand. Intertwining with your own fingers.

"My pleasure." He winked at you and the two of you headed home to the palace.

[almostwisegalaxy]

Under a Grey Sky : Bonus part

The original story

Older men x fem!reader

Music to listen to for the atmosphere : A fathers song_allen stone

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

The morning light gently broke through the curtains when Armand was awakened by small taps on his shoulder. Y/n, now three years old, had slipped out of her bed and stood there, barefoot, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and seriousness.

“Papa! Mama came last night,” she said clearly.

Armand immediately sat up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Mama?”

“Yes! She came to my room, and we talked a lot. She told me I have to tell you some important things.”

He placed a hand on his daughter’s small shoulder, looking at her with a mix of tenderness and curiosity. A flicker of worry passed through his mind—what if someone had somehow entered her room during the night? But he wasn’t prepared for what came next.

“All right, my little star. Tell me everything.”

Y/n climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged, and took a deep breath, as if preparing for a long speech.

“Mama said she loves me very much, but I already knew that,” she added with a hint of pride.

Armand smiled softly, his heart tightening.

“And she said to tell you that she loves you too. Very, very, very much. That you’re a great papa, but… you work too much!”

He lowered his gaze, a sad smile playing on his lips.

“She said that, huh?”

Y/n nodded vigorously.

“Yes! And she told me to say, "I’ve been proud of him for a long time, but he needs to rest."”

She paused, taking another breath, as if reciting a carefully memorized lesson.

“And she said you have to stop burning cakes.”

Armand burst into laughter despite himself, surprised by the comment.

“Oh, really?”

Y/n crossed her arms, mimicking her mother’s mock-serious expression.

“Yes! She said, "Tell him to stop looking at my recipe book like it’s made of gold. He should open it, and then you two can finally eat real cakes, not charcoal!"”

His laughter softened, replaced by a bittersweet feeling. The words were so typical of Y/n’s mother that they felt like a warm embrace.

“She always knew how to make me blush,” he murmured.

But little Y/n wasn’t finished.

“She told me one more thing, Papa. She said to tell you that… that you’re perfect just the way you are. That you’re doing your best, and she’s always proud of you.”

Armand closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by emotion. His daughter continued, unaware of the tears welling up in her father’s eyes.

“And she said she loves it when I sing my songs. Even if I sing badly. And that you have to keep encouraging me because she wants me to be happy.”

Y/n smiled brightly, clearly proud of this last point.

“And she said I had to give you a big kiss from her.”

Before he could respond, Y/n leaned in and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.

“There!”

Armand pulled her into his arms, holding her close as if she were the fragile but powerful bridge between him and his beloved.

“Thank you, my little star,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

That morning, after dropping Y/n off at preschool, Armand went straight to the kitchen. He took a deep breath and, for the first time in years, opened Y/n’s mother’s recipe book. The pages were filled with her familiar handwriting, little notes, and playful doodles.

He smiled, his eyes glistening with tears, and whispered:

“You’re right, Y/n. It’s time I did something good with this.”

That day, he carefully baked a cake. When it came out of the oven, perfectly golden, he looked up toward the sky and said with a smile:

“So, what do you think? Not bad for a start, huh?”

And in his heart, he thought he could hear her laughter—clear and teasing—as if answering him from the past.

---

The days passed, and Armand often found himself lost in the gentle memories of y/n. His daughter, little y/n, with her wide, curious eyes and vibrant smiles, had become the bridge between the past and the present—a living connection to the love he had lost. Every burst of laughter, every song she sang, every little gesture she made carried within it the imprint of y/n, her mother.

One morning, as they were tidying up y/n’s toys before heading to preschool, she handed him a small package carefully wrapped in colorful paper.

“This is for you, Papa. It’s a secret.”

Armand, a bit surprised, took the package and slowly unwrapped it. Inside, he found a small wooden box she had decorated with drawings, glitter, and hearts. Within the box were simple but meaningful objects: a small photo of the two of them, pieces of fabric she had cut out, stones she had picked up during their walks—a tiny world of y/n, a world full of love captured in ordinary things.

“This is my treasure, Papa. For you. So you’ll always think of me, even when I’m not here.”

Armand held the box to his chest, deeply moved, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and heartache. A tear welled up in the corner of his eye.

“But... you’re always here, my little one,” he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion.

Y/n looked at him with a seriousness surprising for her age.

“Yes, but like Mama, even when I’m gone, you’ll have this to remember me.”

Armand felt a weight settle in his chest. There were no words to describe what he felt—just a profound, ineffable love that overwhelmed him whenever his daughter spoke such words.

A few days later, Armand took little y/n by the hand and led her to the cemetery, a place that had become sacred to him. Y/n’s mother’s grave was always adorned with fresh flowers, the decorations changing with the seasons. That day, he had prepared a small picnic, including a cake he had made himself—still unsure of his skills but determined to get it right.

Under the weeping willow, y/n ran to the gravestone and, as usual, sat down in front of it.

“Hi, Mommy,” she said cheerfully, a big smile on her face.

Armand stood beside her, his eyes on the gravestone but his whole being focused on little y/n, who seemed to know exactly what she wanted to say.

“Mommy, I love you. And Papa does too. But Papa works too much. Tell him to stop sometimes so he can be with us. He’s already amazing, but he needs to rest.”

Armand closed his eyes for a moment, a faint smile on his lips. Y/n’s words, simple and direct, struck a little too close to home.

“We’ll be leaving soon, Mommy. But we’ll come back. All the time.”

She then leaned toward the gravestone as if placing a kiss on it and added:

“We’ll come back, with cakes… Yes, my Papa can make edible cakes now. Can you believe it Mommy ?”

Armand burst into laughter, his throat tight. It was so like y/n—full of life and love, with the innocent perspective of a child who didn’t yet fully grasp the weight of goodbyes.

Back home, after putting y/n to bed, Armand found himself alone in the living room, the wooden box still in his hands. He stared at it for a long time, almost as if trying to decipher a mystery. He opened it again, rediscovering each object, each gesture filled with meaning. Y/n’s drawings, the stones, everything that had been a piece of her world.

He stood up, walked to the kitchen, and, for the first time in months, opened y/n’s mother’s recipe book. His hands trembled slightly as he turned the pages. There were notes, laughter captured in words, bursts of life and love, clumsy but affectionate cooking tips. He began to cook slowly and carefully. Today, he would get it right. Today, he would honor that book and all that it represented.

The cake came out of the oven, perfectly golden. As he looked at it, Armand felt an overwhelming sense of quiet love, as if he weren’t alone. As if, in some way, y/n was still there—in every gesture, every thought, every failed or successful cake.

He looked up toward the sky, a faint smile on his lips.

“Are you proud of me, y/n?”

And deep in his heart, he thought he could hear a silent answer, a breath of eternal love, telling him that yes, y/n would always be there, in every part of his world.

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

Tags list: @elizalabs3 @slvt4her

[pinkerthings]

how did will communicate through the lights in season 1?

In season one we see him make the lights flicker in the living room for Joyce, spelling out “run” and such, and we don’t really see the other side of this until, well, The Other Side comic—which I’m not 100% sure how much of this comic is supposed to be taken canonically.

Will is hiding in the cupboard, trying to communicate with his mom, when he hears her beg him to communicate with her, asking where he is. He looks up and suddenly sees the alphabet wall, saying, “Mom…you’re a genius,” and touches the letters on the wall, spelling out, R-I-G-H-T-H-E-R-E.

In the show, we just see the lightbulbs light up in the real world, but in the comic, we see Will in the Upside Down just simply touch the letters on the wall, creating this sort of blue electricity.

(I know it’s in Portuguese, just bear with me i couldn’t find the English version for u all)

season 4 shows otherwise:

In s4 we finally get a glimpse of how things work in the Upside Down. When Nancy, Steve, Robin, and Eddie are in the Wheeler’s house on the other side looking for Nancy’s guns in episode 7, they hear Dustin talking to Erica. The group tries to get his attention, but he can’t hear them. Nancy then remembers how Will found a way to speak to Joyce; through the lights. They try the light switches and lamps but nothing works, until Steve shines the flashlight on the ceiling chandelier, which begins to sparkle with magical fairy looking dust. They discover that touching this gold dust around the light produces light on the other side, and the viewers conclude that’s how Will must have communicated in season one.

but there are some things i just don’t get:

- How did the letters magically appear on the wall in the Upside Down?

- If the Byers’ house really is stuck on November 6th, 1983, how did Will speak to Joyce through the lights (that she bought at Melvald’s) when they weren’t even there on the day that he disappeared?

Season 4 clearly shows that you can only communicate through touching the dust around the already existing lights in the Upside Down to communicate with the other plane of existence, so how did Will manipulate the lights WITH HIS MIND in The Other Side comic?

translation:

Will: Mom! I’m here! I’m somewhere, I don’t—”

Joyce: Good, good, good. Blink once for yes…twice for no… Can you do that for me, sweetie?

Will: You…can’t hear me? What does blink mean? How will you—”

Joyce: Oh, good boy. Good boy.

Will: Is that light? Is that…her somehow?”

Joyce: Baby, I need to know. Are you alive?

Will: I…I don’t know for sure. But I think I am.

Will wanted the lights to flicker, so he MADE THEM FLICKER ! hello? I’m not a big Will-powers truther but if that’s not the case then I don’t understand how this makes sense in the comic & the show.

but how does it actually work?

Now, they kind of try to get out of this confusing plothole/mixup by showcasing this:

the idea that if something is moved on the normal plane where someone could theoretically access its ghost---or where it's supposed to be---in the Upside Down, then they could essentially still manipulate the light source.

(This is also the case when Will touches the alphabet wall. There are technically no lights on his plane, but the lights are still sensed from the regular Hawkins plane of existence.)

The group has Dustin move the Lite-Brite toy in Stranger things so they could draw IN THE AIR where the toy is in actual Hawkins, which does not add up to me because their light source (which I’m assuming the gold dust is coming from) is from the regular plane & not the Upside Down, but I guess makes sense as to how Joyce was able to move lamps & lights around their home/Will's room in season 1 and still have Will able to communicate, even though the house would not have looked the same in the Upside Down because of it being stuck on November 6th.

which brings me to the question,

how did Will know about all the lights & lamps in his bedroom and around the home (besides the alphabet wall, which he could somehow see) in season 1?

HE COULDN'T.

This is proven in The Other Side comic when Joyce tells him to "blink."

"What does blink mean?" he asks, and then my precious boy LITERALLY BLINKS (he closes his eyes) and somehow the lights flicker.

After season 4 came out, I saw so many people say things like, "Why are we just now finding out how Will communicated in the Upside Down? Why didn't Will tell everyone sooner?"

Guys... MY BOY DID NOT KNOW !😭

He wasn't touching magical fairy dust with his hands or playing with Lite-Brite's. He was literally closing his eyes and just making it happen.

HOWEVER..

The alphabet appearing on the wall in the Upside Down still makes no sense in the story, as we’re shown that everything should be the same as it was the day Will disappeared. While things in Hawkins CAN be moved around & “sensed” in the Upside Down (lights, lamps, sound, etc), the actual core can’t be physically changed because it’s stuck in time.

“But what if things that are changed in Hawkins are also changed in the Upside Down Hawkins?”

This is obviously impossible, shown in season 4 episode 7, right before the group discovers the light phenomenon, when Nancy looks for her guns and realizes they’re not there because it is stuck in time. Therefore, Will somehow seeing the alphabet wall in the Upside Down makes no sense. Him making it light up DOES makes sense, however, according to season 4 logic, but him seeing it doesn���t seem to fit with the narrative the Duffers have created surrounding light sources within the Stranger Things universe.

so, does will have powers?

I am personally not super big on the Will Byers powers theories, but honestly there aren’t many explanations as to how exactly he manipulated flickering the lights in season 1 and The Other Side comic. In the s5 teaser released yesterday, we see behind-the-scenes of young Will falling out of a tree in the Upside Down.

That, paired with the older BTS photo of young Will laying in Castle Byers,

means that we’re finally getting Will’s side of the story way back from s1, so we’ll be able to see how much of The Other Side is actually canon !

[awkward-walking-potato]

Here I go again

Red haired shanks

Part 1 part 2 part 3

The sun hung low over the Red Force, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and gold. The crew was celebrating on deck, passing around drinks and trading stories, but their captain wasn’t with them.

Shanks sat alone in his quarters, a half-empty bottle of rum on his desk. In his hands, he held a photograph—one he had carried with him for years.

The edges were worn, the ink slightly faded, but the image was burned into his memory as if it had been taken yesterday.

You stood in front of him, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped lazily around your waist. He was leaning down, whispering something in your ear, and you were laughing—head tilted back, eyes sparkling with the kind of happiness that couldn’t be faked.

His fingers traced the outline of your smile.

He could still hear your laughter, the way it used to echo across the deck on windless nights. He could still remember the exact moment that photo was taken—Buggy, grumbling about “stupid lovebirds,” had snapped it without either of you noticing.

He had kept it ever since.

With a quiet sigh, Shanks leaned back in his chair, letting his thoughts drift further into the past.

Years Ago - Your First Day on the Ship

He hadn’t expected you to fit in so quickly.

Most newcomers took time to adjust to life at sea, but you? You had stepped aboard the Red Force like you were made for it.

He remembered the way your eyes had lit up the moment you saw the open ocean, how you had leaned over the railing, mesmerized by the waves.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you had whispered, watching the sun reflect off the water.

Shanks had grinned, standing beside you. “Get used to it, sweetheart. This is just the beginning.”

You had turned to him, excitement buzzing in your veins. “What do you think is out there? Beyond the horizon?”

He had chuckled. “Adventure. Freedom. Trouble, if you’re lucky.”

And then, with that damn smile of his, he had added, “Stick with me, and you’ll see for yourself.”

And you had.

Until the night everything nearly changed.

The storm had come without warning—violent winds, waves crashing against the ship, the deck slick with rain.

Shanks had been on the quarterdeck, shouting orders to his crew, when he heard someone scream your name.

He turned just in time to see you lose your footing, the force of the wind knocking you off balance.

One second, you were there. The next, you were gone.

He didn’t think. He just moved.

He dove forward, his hand snatching your wrist just before the ocean could swallow you whole. Rain pounded against his skin as he strained to pull you back over the railing, his grip tightening like a vice.

Your wide eyes met his, terrified, breathless.

“Hold on,” he had growled, using every ounce of strength he had to haul you back onto the deck.

When you finally collapsed against him, shaking, he wrapped his arms around you without hesitation.

“You okay?” he had murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You had clung to him, your face buried against his chest. “You saved me.”

Shanks had only held you tighter. “Yeah. And I’ll do it again if I have to.”

And for a while, he had meant it.

Until the day he let you go.

Present Day

A knock at the door pulled Shanks from his thoughts.

Makino stood in the doorway, her soft smile warm as ever.

���There you are,” she said gently. “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Shanks returned her smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll be out soon.”

She nodded, but before she left, her gaze flickered toward the photograph still resting in his hand.

Her expression didn’t change. She didn’t say a word.

But she didn’t have to.

Shanks waited until she was gone before tucking the photo back into the locked drawer of his desk.

Back on the Island

You watched your daughter from across the room, narrowing your eyes.

Something was off.

She was fidgeting, avoiding your gaze, and you knew her well enough to know when she was hiding something.

“Alright,” you said, crossing your arms. “Spill it.”

She jolted. “W-What?”

“You’re up to something.” You took a step closer. “What is it?”

Your daughter hesitated, gripping the diary at her side. But before you could press further, you glanced out the window and noticed the first signs of wedding guests arriving in the village.

You sighed, rubbing your temple.

“We need more fruit for the tables,” you said. “Head into town and grab some before everyone gets here.”

Your daughter nodded a little too quickly. “Got it! Be right back!”

You watched her rush out the door, the feeling of unease still lingering.

You weren’t wrong.

Because as soon as she reached the village, she stopped by the small post station, slipping three carefully sealed letters into the hands of a messenger.

“Deliver these,” she said, voice quiet but firm. “Urgently.”

The man looked at the names scrawled across the envelopes.

Shanks.

Ace.

Zoro.

Your daughter swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest.

She had to know the truth.

And if her mother wouldn’t tell her, she’d bring the answers to her instead.

[justanotherfanwriter]

Bday fic!

I wrote this a long time ago and never posted it, but now that I've reread it I think it's cute enough to post! Happy birthday, everyone :)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Hunter sat in the Owl Lady’s living room, anxiously tapping his left foot as Luz and Amity scrambled around to get ready. Irrespective of the girls’ opinions on the matter, they always took forever to get ready.

“You know,” He spoke to Eda, “we really don’t have to do this. It’s fine.”

Eda stood in front of the mirror hanging next to the kitchen. She pursed her lips and then gritted her teeth, picking at them.

“No dice, kid.” She spoke around her finger, “You only turn seventeen once. ‘Sides—” She smiled as she faced him, “—it’ll be fun. I’ll buy you a drink.”

He furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion, “But I’m not at the legal drinking age yet?”

Eda’s eyes widened, “There’s a legal drinking age?”

“Uh, yes?”

She stood there a moment, staring blankly at him before saying, “That explains a lot, actually. If you excuse me—” she wagged her finger in the air, “—I have a few calls to make.”

“Why?” He narrowed his eyes, but she waved him off.

“No reason! No reason! Make sure the girls are ready on time. We don’t want to miss our reservation!”

“Eda!” He stood up, “What did you do!”

He made to go after her, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. He glared down the hallway Eda had darted off to before stealing a look at the door. Whoever was here, they were early, and because there was no Hooty at the door to greet them, well, it looked like the job now fell on him.

“I don’t even live here,” He sighed, letting Eda off the hook. Once a goon, always a goon, he supposed.

“No solici—” he said as he opened the door and then, froze, “—oh! Uh, h-hi, Willow. Sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Hunter!” Willow beamed, “Happy Birthday!”

He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged, “Oh, yeah, thanks. Uh, come in—” He ushered her through the door, “—you’re here early. Not that that’s an issue or anything, just that you’re . . . here early?”

Willow let out a bemused snort, setting her stuff down on the ground and smoothing out her dress, “Luz and Amity begged me to come help them with hair and makeup. I actually should have been here sooner, but I didn’t want to ruin my hair—” she fluffed her curls, “—so I took it slow. How do I look? It’s not a mess, is it?”

Hunter felt heat pool into his face. As politely as possible, he looked her up and down, and nodded.

“Not a mess.” He agreed. He didn’t think he had ever seen Willow as a mess before. “You look, uh, really nice.”

Nice was an understatement, but goons were typically cowards.  

“Thank you!” Willow twirled around showing off her dress, “Special occasion, special dress! I bought it just for today.”

The dress was green, of course, because that was Willow’s favorite color, but the hem of the dress had been enchanted. Despite the dress stopping above her knees, it had no real coherent end. Instead, the fabric faded to mist and little emerald and gold stars twinkled down, disappearing before they fell to the floor. Her hair sparkled too with a little cluster of palistrom blossoms on her headband. It was all very pretty. She was very pretty.

On the other hand, Hunter was wearing a faded hoodie from the Human realm.

“Just for today?” He asked, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket as he toed the ground. He pretended to ignore the guilt rolling around in his stomach.

“Duh!” She bent down, “I’ve got your present, by the way. But I guess we’ll be doing presents at the restaurant, right? The whole derby teams’ coming. Everyone’s so excited! Are Dell and Mrs. Clawthorne here?”

“No, they’re with Ms. Lilith. They’re coming, uh, later.”

“I have a palistrom tree idea I want to run by them by the end of the night,” Willow babbled on, “oh, and Gus is going to be here early too, but he’s with Matt, and, oh! Is Darius coming? I figured he was coming.”

Hunter sighed through a smile, “yeah, yeah, he’s coming. In fact, it feels like the whole Isle is coming. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

Willow laughed, pulling out her hair products, “I think someone’s first birthday party ever is a very big deal.”    

“Yeah, but—” He worried his bottom lip, “—I dunno, I feel bad, I mean, you got all dressed up and we’re only going to the Tavern.”

Willow—a witch who could make garbage bags look attractive—tilted her head and batted her eyes as she regarded him, “Hunter, don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter where we go. I wanted to dress up because an event celebrating you is worth dressing up for.”

The heat residing on his face moved to his ears and he looked away, fighting off a smile, “Oh.”

He had never considered his birthday like that before; that, maybe, everyone wanted to come to his birthday dinner, not because they felt obligated to dress up and spend snails, but because they wanted to. He sucked in a quick breath as his world tilted on its axis. What Willow had just said, it had given him a lot to think about, and she had said it like she was reporting the weather—like it was just a given. It almost made him laugh, but he couldn’t say exactly why.

“Are they upstairs?”

Willow’s question cut through his mind fog and snapped him back to reality.

“What, sorry?”

 She smiled, “It’s alright. Luz and Amity, are they upstairs?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“You’re okay,” Willow giggled, scooping up her stuff, “I’ll see you down here in a little bit.”

“Yeah, okay,” He watched her for a moment before calling out, “Hey, actually, Willow?”

She poked her head back in the room, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Thanks for, uh, for what you said.”

“What did I say?”

He blushed again, “That I was, um, worth . . . it?”

Her smiled faded and she blinked a few times before her smile returned tenfold, showing off her dimples. “Of course, no problem. I mean it—” for the first time ever, it was Willow who broke eye contact first as pink creeped into her cheeks, “—you’ve been worth everything.”

“Willow! Is that you! We’re having a crisis up here!” Luz’s voice cried out. “No one told me there was a difference between a mousse plant and a moose plant!”

“Help!” Came another muffled cry. It sounded a smidge like Amity, but her voice was too far away.

“It ate Amity!” Luz cried, “It ate my girlfriend!”

Willow’s eyes bugged open and she quickly took off running without waiting for his reply, which was fine by him. He felt too overwhelmed to do anything more than smile. He pressed a hand to his heart, thought about Flapjack, and how nice it was not to be so alone. Then, he set off to find a nicer shirt to change into. If everyone else thought his birthday was worth it, he would too.

And if said shirt coincidentally matched Willow’s dress, well, it was his birthday, right? 

[dyingroses]

Owlthena fic - Attenia of Ithaca

Basically Athena "dies" in the arena and is reincarnated as a baby fishlike fledgling creature. And is born nowhere else but in Odysseus's lap while he is on Ogygia.

Inspired by @irunaki , reptilstew , and DeutschlandDenizen

I hope you guys enjoy the first 3 chapters! Also your comments give me life! Don't know what to say leave a gif!

"Get up, you brat!" Zeus screamed at his daughter.

"You think you can escape if you just lie still!" Zeus screamed.

He kicked Athena over onto her back. She rolled down the stairs to the floor of the arena. She still didn't move. No, Zeus thought, nooooo.

"Athena?" Zeus asked kneeling down to touch his daughter's face. Despite her lightning scorched flesh she was cold. And she wasn't breathing.

"No," Zeus said, checking her pulse and finding it absent, "NOOOOO!"

"Apollo!" Zeus shouted at his son in the stands, "FIX HER!"

As Apollo ran over Zeus cradled Athena in his arms

"You're okay, my girl," Zeus told his daughter, "You're okay. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Father . . " Apollo said after what seemed like an eternity, tears streaming down his face.

"DO SOMETHING! FIX HER!" Zeus screamed at his son.

"Dad," Apollo said looking at his father with a pain in his eyes that made Zeus's already broken heart break more, "Dad . . . she's gone."

Odysseus woke up later that night to the feeling of something vibrating on him. He had fallen asleep on his back and in the moonlight he could just barely make out the shape of a large eggs lying on his abdomen. It had a pattern of blue swirls and golden jagged lines on it. He carefully sat up and placed the egg in his lap. Holding it up to the moonlight he could tell that there was some sort of creature inside it. He carefully place it back down in it's lap as it started cracking. The talon-toe scaly little creature removed the last part of the eggs shell that was covering it's face and Odysseus looked into a pair of far too familiar gray eyes.

"Dada?" The scaly feathery winged baby said to him.

"No, I'm - I'm not your -" Odysseus began to tell the baby.

But a loud noise shook the island. It can't be, we don't get thunder on Ogygia, Odysseus thought as his heart raced. But a more important sound brought him back to the moment. The little thing was crying. She must be so scared, Odysseus thought as he picked up the baby.

"Dada," She said sniffling as she nestled herself against Odysseus's chest.

Odysseus made his way to the spot in the woods that he liked to go to to escapes from calypso. He didn't trust that crazy woman with this sweet little creature. An incredibly loud thunderbolt startled Odysseus, Why? Why is this happening? he screamed in his head. Then he felt something soft brush his chest. The little thing was trying to wrap her wings around him.

"Thanks little one," He told the bird baby as he fondly stroked her hair and feathers.

"Dada!" The bird baby cried holding up her arms for Odysseus as he wrapped her in his cloak and set her down.

"Hold on," he told her.

"Dada!" The little bird cried again.

"Just a minute, dada's got to make a shelter for us."

Odysseus laughed realizing he had called himself her "dada." Well who else is gonna be, he thought

"Okay, dada's finished, come here" Odysseus said as he picked he up and went under the shelter with her.

Odysseus woke the next morning happy to find that he had not dreamt up the little creature but that she was actually real and lying peacefully curled up beside him.

With the light of day shining through his shelter he saw that the baby had beautiful copper plumage with gold streaks, a bit of soft baby curls of the same coloring. The coloring Athena had in owl form. She also had gem like blue and silver scales on her arms legs and face. And those sparkling grey eyes which looked up at him curiously and, almost, sadly.

"Dada?" The baby asked him, tilting her head then reaching out to touch his face.

Odysseus put on a smile, and tickled her under the chin. Genuinely smiling when he heard her giggle. It reminded him so much of Telemachus. The little creature was still kinda gooey so he picked her up and headed over to the stream. The baby was taking in the sights around her with great curiosity. Odysseus stopped a couple times to let her touch some things. Explaining the various flora and fauna of the forest. She didn't talk but he felt like she was listening. The baby tried to put a mushroom in her mouth and cried when Odysseus took it from her.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," Odysseus said trying to get her to stop crying. After bouncing her a little she stopped and rested her head against his chest. His heart fluttered and ached. As if sensing his anguish she spread her wings out trying to wrap them around him.

"Thanks, baby girl," Odysseus said, stroking her hair, the light shining off the gold streaks.

This couldn't be Athena Odysseus told himself. She would never call him "dada" or allow herself to be touched like this. But why did she look so much like her. Was it . . a relation? Athena had never mentioned any birdish fishlike relatives before. Also she had been a virgin a for thousands of years he didn't imagine she'd suddenly give that up - but what if - he shook his head trying not to think about something so terrible happening to his mentor. Also if this was really her daughter why would he send her to this stupid failure of a man on a semi-deserted island. The baby looked up at him and smiled. Odysseus smiled back. His mouth hurting. He hadn't smiled in such a long time that his face ached from the sudden exertion.

He brought her to the stream and carefully lowered her in. The baby squealed with delight and splashed the water. She tried to put her head in.

"You thirsty," Odysseus asked cupping some water for her to drink in his hands. She drank it happily. Odysseus relaxed a little thinking he had solved the problem only for the baby to lean forward trying to dive into the water.

"Hey!" Odysseus shouted grabbing her. The baby started to cry and Odysseus felt bad for shouting at her.

"I'm sorry. Please don't cry, little one. Pleas don't cry," Odysseus said bouncing her her. He started singing a song he had sung to Telemachus. It made his heart ache a little at first but it got her to stop crying for which he was grateful.

He kept on singing as he washed her off. All of a sudden she started bouncing and reaching towards something. Thankfully, Odysseus was quick and was able to pick her up before she tried to get the thing at the bottom of the stream. With the baby in one arm he reached down with the other and picked up a shiny rock from the bottom of the stream. He gave her the shiny thing and her eyes lit up.

"You truly are a little bird aren't you," He said bouncing her a little.

He spent several hours playing with her. He would toss her in the air, and she would squeal with delight. He showed her how to knock sandcastles. He banged sticks on things with her. He tried to teach her how to crawl by putting her on her tummy and moving away from her so she would follow but she seemed distressed not being close to him and he couldn't stand to let her cry.

"You need a name," Odysseus told her, but all he could think about looking at copper and golden plumage and grey eyes was Athena. At first he found it kind of laughable to think of the similarities as Athena would never curl up into him like this or call him "dada." Then he found it sad realizing she probably never did have that opportunity. Athena Koryphagenês. The legend said she was born from Zeus's head as a fullgrown adult. Had she even had a childhood?

Odysseus decided to call the baby Attenia.

The baby fell asleep in Odysseus's arm and he carefully placed her in a little nest he made of moss, leaves, and his cape.

"Athena . . . Athena Amboulia Makhanitis," Odysseus began to pray but felt like he was talking to a void, he had never felt any sort of presence or absence when he prayed before he had no idea if she was listening except when she answered later, ". . . Athena Paiônia Pronoia. I . . . I thank you for this blessing, for this child to share my love and fill my days with purpose. For this comfort. I hope and pray that this is a sign of your mercy and aid though I be undeserving of it. I beg you to help me get back to my wife and son. I know I am . . . I know I can still . . . I - Attenia deserves better and I cannot bear to abandon her nor would I keep in exile. Please take us home to Ithaca."

Odysseus was relieved to find that after his meal and with Calypso that Attenia was still sleeping. She was only an infant afterall. Although she seemed strangely nocturnal. Sleeping more in the day and being more active at night. Odysseus would tell her the stories of the constellations.

[outislovesgoobers]

haiiii 🥰 with Date Everything! Finally having it's full release, I kinda wanted to do a lil post about characters I think folks should check out that haven't been gettin' enough love 👉👈

There's gonna be some slight spoilers, but I'm gonna keep everything brief!

RAINEY!

please please please everyone needs to go play her route <3

Not only does she have some really sweet interactions w/ the others, and is generally a great time - but if you're anybody who's struggled w/ mental health there's a lotta good stuff that'll make you hurt So Good

I'm not gonna go too in depth, but if you've ever had the worry about 'will medication make me lose my sparkle'? This one's for you. There's one part of her route that made me feel *so* goopyshmoopy <3

Artt

Honestly??? I liked him more than I expected!

I wouldn't say he's a particularly complicated character - but for what he does, he's actually a pretty good time :D also his post-love dialogue makes me implode a little so

ALSO you may or may not get to do some fun stuff w/ some paintings. that is all I say. I'm a sucker for customization

if u like hearing men talk about paintings then hey ho go give him a go :)

Curt and Rodddd <333

honestly these two are just a great time KJDSAKJD

Curt is a hopeless romantic, Rod is far more of a realist, but they love each other dearly and are SO goofy

All of their interactions are A+, they have gotten the most giggles out of me from sheer delivery alone - Davied Morales and Jacquis Neil both sound like they were having a blast recording these two

Also, a light duo! Some of the routes can be a lil sad or dark, so if you just want some silly good time boys, go NOW!!!!

Keyes :D

I didn't think I'd like her from the first interaction, but she has become one of my favs

Workaholic Primadonna has a midlife crisis and realizes she is NOT immune to the power of friendship <3

You WILL be endeared by her. I thought I would be immune but I was not, go give Keyes so much love.

Stellaaaaa!!!

Old lady gets pyramid schemed <3 but also has a lot of really interesting story stuff

idk I just love old women. She's so silly but also so, so earnest, and her arc is so nice tbh. I love seeing old ladies get what they want forever.

Very much a feel-good character!

Luke Nuke'm >:)

He's like if you blended a GI Joe w/ one of those bug-traumatized Soldier Guys from Wreck-It Ralph and made him a real boy

He's at a 110% at all times. He's going through so much. He's voiced by Travis Willingham which should probably give a perfect idea of the kind of oddity he is KAJSDSKAJD

I don't even wanna say too much bc I feel like everybody should experience him as raw as possible

if u like when army men yell at you then ummm <3 go get him

Stefan <3

c'monnnn just look at him :)

okay. okay. okay. I will admit I'm biased bc I was whipped for him since the demo - BUT!!!! he is so goddamn fun please go check him out

if you like 'gruff man with a short temper and a heart of gold, w/ tons of passion for his craft', you're gonna love him. Please he needs some more love.

He has a lil chicken timer bestie called Mr. Cluckles. Don't you wanna meet Mr. Cluckles?

Captain Jacques Pierrot :)

Listen it started as a bit but then it wasn't a bit anymore-

He is SO goddamn silly. A walking napoleon complex. He's like if you gave an insecure toddler a sword. Constantly angry about nothing. Narrates everything he does. Will have a tantrum and plug his ears if he's having a bad time. Might be scared of French.

Part of the longest quest in the game! So if you like him, you've got plenty of dialogue options to screw around with

Another fun-time character! If you just want a silly billy, he is your billy 2 silly

AYOYE that is so shmany... there are many more but I shall leave it at that for now <3333 byebye I go bed now mwah

[seastar-bunny]

Tea

'Doe, darling?'

'Hmm?' Doe leant around the door, eyebrows raised. 'Emmrich? Something wrong?'

'No, no,' he said, smiling gently. 'Just... well. I have been missing you lately, you know. Will you have tea with me?' He beckoned and she moved into his quarters, grinning.

'Yeah, 'course I will.'

He drew her to him, kissing the tip of her nose. 'Rose and lemon?'

'Rose and lemon,' she agreed, giggling. 'Thank you.'

'No dearest. Thank you for your indulgence. I would've invited you to the gardens, but I fear I am weak-willed and couldn't wait the travel time. You've been so busy.' Emmrich rose gracefully, making tea with newly dried rose petals and the candied zest of Orlesian lemons. 'Tell me of your adventures, hm?'

'Oh, well,' she said, perching on his desk. 'The latest was Hossberg with Davrin. They're hoping life will grow again when the Blight is gone. You're something of a plant expert, my love. What do you think?'

'I think,' he pondered, approaching with steaming silver teapot and cups, 'there is always a chance.' He set them down and leaned beside her. 'Think of it, Rook,' he said, using her nickname; it had become a title of sorts for her. The moments he used her real name were still rare enough to be thrilling, especially now; she dropped the veneer of command in the moments they were alone. Sometimes it would creep back in, of course, that ring of authority- but she sensed he rather liked that about her, anyway. 'Think of it,' he said again, slightly more insistent this time. 'I had spent my entire life before you convinced I would occupy a grave alone. Now it is to be not so, and I thank whoever made us, if we were made at all, that you are in my life.'

'You'd have been happy,' she assured softly. 'I heard stories about you before we ever met. You'd never have died alone.'

He laughed through his nose, smoothed a hand through her hair. 'Oh, Doe,' he sighed. 'A man in his twenties is not who he is in his fifties. While yes I was a touch... wild, let's say- I was hardly settled. And I was hardly sought for my ah... well. Tact, perhaps. Gentleness. That arrived with harsh lessons.'

'And I get all the benefit,' she said playfully, threading a hand through his grey locks and pulling him into a kiss. 'You are the perfect gentleman. Tamed by time, perhaps?'

'Perhaps,' he agreed, his own mischievous smile dancing on his lips. 'Though in the right circumstances I'm sure I could be persuaded to be less so, if you so wish.'

She sipped her tea. There was a charge in the room now, but she would remain serene. 'Lovely. Perfectly balanced between sweet and floral.' The tea sparkled in the cup, clear gold-green.

'It's quite audacious to tease like that,' he said quietly, smiling. 'Alas, I'll wait. I am a patient man.' He winked, sipping his own tea. 'But you, my dear, are impulsive to a fault. Can you cultivate patience for great reward, I wonder?'

'You love that about me,' she shot back with an impish grin.

'Oh, I do.' He nodded, almost to himself. 'Very much. I am merely curious if you can learn the patience I did. Merely offering instruction, is all.'

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