#he’s eyeing the empty cookie packet next to me

[tired-bee]

Stanley says hello (he wants your food, don't trust him.) 🖤

[beangfrisky]

MEETING YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME

atsumu x reader

today could not possibly have gone any worse. a film producer should reach out because the amount of unbelievable events that happen to you on days like today need to be recorded.

first, it was the classic flat tire which made you late on your way to your big interview. next, your coffee got spilled on your favorite white button down blouse. and frankly it was all downhill after that.

which leads us to why you are currently standing in a grocery store aisle at 9pm scouring for your favorite snack. you have earned this damned treat and you are determined to find it. unfortunately, it looks like your grocery store reorganized so everything is out of place.

after skimming the shelves for about five minutes, the familiar blue packaging pops into view. except it’s attached to a hand that’s currently placing it into a basket.

you scurry over trying not to seem as desperate as you feel right now. “excuse me, where did you get those cookie crisps?” the panic in your voice is clear.

when your eyes rise to question the person in front of you, you freeze. he’s hot. as in his face belongs on the cover of a magazine hot.

his lips turn up into a smirk at your staring. and as if this day couldn’t get any worse, he turns to point to an empty shelf in the corner.

“i’m pretty sure these were the last ones.” he says so casually, as if this was not the bit of sanity left you were clinging onto. you grip his arm with both hands prepared to get down on your knees and beg.

“listen here buddy, i really really need those cookies. what will it take for you to hand them over.” his eyebrows raise in shock. clearly he wasn’t expecting to run into an insane person on his grocery run, but your day hasn’t exactly gone to plan either.

he glances down in his basket and chuckles at your desperation over a snack. his biceps flex while your eyes travel over the hot stranger in front of you. at least you get some eye candy to top off your bad day.

“i’ll share them with ya.” he decides. you’re caught in a staring contest as your brain tries to comprehend how you got stuck in this position.

any other day you would have given up and walked home, but this was a matter of principal.

“no, i won’t share. these cookie crisps are mine, i have earned them so please do what’s right and hand them over. trust me, you don’t want to see what happens next if i don’t have a cookie in my mouth within two minutes,” you’re talking at the speed of light and don’t care how deranged you sound.

he looks amused and shakes the packet in front of you to taunt you, “well if you need them so bad i guess you’ll have to settle for sharing. unless you don’t want any at all.”

he struts down the grocery store aisle and you have no choice but to trail behind him. considering your options, you decide following this stranger is probably better than losing yet another battle today.

after catching him glancing several times while checking out, he finally finishes and pays. after a few steps out of the door he opens the package and hands you a cookie. “don’t want to test you, i’m not in the mood to be murdered tonight.”

the cookie is eaten and gone before he can even finish his sentence. your hands grab for the package while he raises it above his head, making you reach up on your tippy toes.

“are you going to jump for it?” he teases. after a day like this, violence is not out of the question. never in your life have you contemplated hitting someone because of sweets.

he sees you pause and decides to head to his car before you get any bright ideas. the passenger door is held open for you to get in. honestly, being murdered doesn’t sound so bad after everything else you’ve dealt with today so you sit down quickly.

after he slides in the drivers side, he hands you the package of cookies before grabbing one himself. “so what’s your name?”

[stickthroughthephases]

Tall, Tall, Short

C(S). Smoke/Tomáš x Reader | WC. 676 | G. Fluff/Comedy |

It was no secret that compared to Tomáš, you were a good foot or so shorter, and given his warrior-like build, the difference in stature was glaringly obvious whenever you were together. 

It didn’t bother you of course, no matter how scary Tomáš looked with his uniform and mask, underneath the armour was one of the kindest people you knew, even if he could tear your limbs off in a matter of seconds. 

Having dealt with two stubborn brothers who were prone to arguments and anger, Tomáš was quite mellow compared to the two, so arguments were rare between you and cold-shouldering even rarer, but your most recent disagreement cast a sour cloud over the two of you. 

Before anything escalated to regrettable words and actions, you distanced yourself first and gave Tomáš some space, and him the same. 

That was now a day and a half in the past and currently, you were ready to bury the hatchet. Tomáš? He was away for clan responsibilities and currently still curt with you given your conversation, more like lack thereof, at breakfast. 

Healthy couples don’t keep counters of who apologizes first, so you racked your brain to devise a way to ease in an apology and get your partner to return to his usual demeanour with you.

Walking into the kitchen, you walk into the idea itself and begin “plotting”, waiting for your lover to return.

As if on cue, Tomáš walks into the kitchen fussing with the buckles of his armour, likely searching for snacks after a tiresome day. Instead of an empty kitchen, he finds you “reaching” for something on the highest shelf. Sensing his arrival you turn to greet him.

“Hey~~”, you offer with a sheepish grin, trying to pass off your “distress” as genuine. “The snacks are just a tad bit too high for me…can you please help me get them down?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, his finicky armour forgotten, and without a word he moves to your spot, easily stretching his arm to the shelf (giving you an eyeful of his biceps flex, not that you were complaining) where you had relocated all the snacks.

“Which one do you need love?” he questions, turning back to you, a face full of curiosity and the first proper sentence without any tension.

A little too quickly you blurt out,

 “All of them please”

He starts to pull as many packages of snacks as he can see and reach, concern growing at just how many were there. Weren’t they on the bottom shelf just yesterday?

You thank him with a small kiss on the cheek and start to open some snacks, starting phase two of your plan.

“Mmhph, mmmmmphm” you ‘struggle’ to tear open a packet of cookies, furrowing your brows and contorting your mouth in frustration. 

“My love can you open these for me?” you inquire of Tomáš stretching the packet out towards him. 

Stopping mid-bite, he puts down his snacks and tears open the cookies within seconds. 

You give him another kiss and suggest moving to the table with your snacks, Tomáš following behind you with the remainder of the snacks. 

The previous tension from the past day and a half ceases to exist as you ask him of his day which he happily recounts to you as you enjoy the snacks that will surely spoil your appetite for dinner but oh well.

~Bedtime~

Tomáš is already waiting in bed as you slide in under the covers situating yourself by draping your limbs around his waist and tucking your head on his shoulder.

You wish him goodnight and he peppers a kiss to your temple, but before you can swiftly drift on to dreamland…

“You purposely moved all the snacks to the top shelf didn't you?” he teases, before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You’re cute but not very sneaky.”

Your eyes snap open, mentally cursing yourself. Maybe next time you should just talk to Tomáš instead of planning elaborate ideas to trick him into talking to you.

*Author's Notes* This idea/prompt has been in my idea folder for a while initially it was based on a Kpop group member, but I figured it would fit an MK character as well and who better than Smoke/Tomáš. I know all the brothers are supposed to be at least 6 feet tall, but for some reason, Tomáš feels like he is the tallest, and the premise of having snacks fits him more than Grandmaster SubZero.

[carlos-in-glasses]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @catanisspicy . Please have something very very hot off the press. 🤎

Gutiérrez switches on the light, illuminating oak laminate cabinets, beige floral tiling and a matching tile-top kitchen island upon which tightly-packed rectangular parcels of beige-tinted powder are stacked in brickwork formation.

Carlos' eyes pop at the sight of it. "Are you serious?"

“Oh, relax. What do you think I do here all day – listen to true crime podcasts and make friendship bracelets?” Gutiérrez swipes an upside-down sepia glass coffee pot from the drying rack. In reaction, a stack of ceramic plates and cutlery collapses in a cacophonous domino effect. He ignores it. “Anyway, it’s flour. Decoy drop this evening should get moles out of the hole. That’s what your daddy used to say.” Gutiérrez gestures behind Carlos. Sure enough, on the countertop next to a retro-looking brown microwave, there are several empty packets of King Arthur unbleached, covered in their own dust. “My requisition didn’t go through, though, so I’m out of pocket,” Gutiérrez continues, grizzling. “But Costco loves me. The checkout girl probably thinks I’m some master baker.”

Carlos watches Gutiérrez hunt around in a drawer for a fresh filter for the coffee machine, which is as equally ancient as the microwave, the fridge, and the sink. Such can be the austerity of public-funded undercover ops. Carlos wishes he didn’t like Gutiérrez. Thanks to the nature of his own job, and his father’s job – which included the whistle-blowing of corruption within the auspices of the Texas Rangers – virtually everyone in his life occupies a dangerous position. Tomorrow, he could read in The Austin Chronical about a man called Pablo Martinez being gunned down in Chicano Park. A narcotics drop gone lethal. Carlos would have to grit his teeth while buttoning his shirt in the locker room at the precinct, hearing colleagues laugh and jaunt about another falcon removed from the streets.

“Take a seat,” Gutiérrez says, “Here, I’ll move a few of these out of your way.” He bundles up a dozen of the decoy parcels and dumps them next to a ceramic cookie jar shaped like a football.

Tagging with no pressure: @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @chaotictarlos @never-blooms @ladytessa74 @bonheur-cafe @paperstorm @lemonlyman-dotcom @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @iboatedhere @freneticfloetry @lightningboltreader @welcometololaland if you're still bored in an airport @rmd-writes @noxsoulmate @largepeachicedtea @taralaurel @rosedavid @chicgeekgirl89 @liminalmemories21 @alrightbuckaroo @goodways @theghostofashton @hoko-onchi-writes @ambiguouspenny @wandering-night19 - if you have anything you want to share! ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

[lacelynpage]

My last recital

Summery: Sherlocks funeral hit Mycroft a little harder then he expected.  

Word count: 521

Warnings: Mention of Sherlocks faked death, nothing else <3

A/N: Hello Darlings! This idea popped into my head earlier and I just had to write it. Thank you all so much for your support! I hope to be publishing the second chapter of Regency soon, so keep an eye out. 

Sherlock wasn't dead.

Mycroft knew that, 

He had helped plan it all. 

Had watched the plane take off. 

But to see the funeral… 

To look at the name on that grave… 

His arrogant little brother. 

His perplexing little brother. 

His irritating, 

Relentless, 

impossible, 

…Little brother. 

You could feel it in the shakiness of his hand as you walked out of the church. 

You could see it in his eyes when they lowered the empty coffin into the ground.  

But now you could hear it.  

It rang out as clear, clean notes on the piano.  

Hidden, just out of his sight, in the door to the ballroom, you listened.  

With elegant and gentle touches Mycroft played the piano for the first time in years. 

You had often asked him to play for you, but he never did. 

He had hated the years of lessons he had been forced to endure as a child. 

Sherlock had loved them, but Mycroft never quite took to it. 

Still, there he sat; eyes closed as he let his memory take over.  

It was a beautiful song, with a lovely yet haunting melody. 

Somehow it felt unfinished, 

Like it was only part of something. 

There was a sigh after the last echoes of the notes had faded. 

You watched from behind as he took a sip of the scotch in his glass, setting it back down with a heavy hand. 

“It's a duet.”  

Mycroft's voice startled you out of your trance. 

The rasping in his voice gave away his past tears while he stared at the piano. 

As you walked closer you gently rested your hand on his shoulders. 

He made no move to look at you, preferring the thin veil of privacy it provided him. 

Sharing his emotions was not one of his specialties. 

“We played it together at my last recital.”  

There was a melancholy to his voice. 

“Sherlock always hated that I quit playing, held it over me for years.” 

Another slow sip of scotch, 

“He would send me things at uni. His compositions, things he thought I might enjoy playing.”  

You smiled sadly to yourself a bit.  

Mycroft was truly sentimental once you really got to know him. He had many very obscured trinkets in his estate. Small things that other people disregarded in favor of the historic paintings, but all had an incredibly important meaning to him.  

With a very deliberate hand he opened a leather-bound book that sat on the bench next to him.  

Inside were several stapled packets of handwritten sheet music. They are initialed and dated at the top. He looked through, briefly, and pulled one out. 

S.H. 1988, age 12 

He places it on the piano and begins. With a delicate melody Mycroft plays the expertly composed song.  

He began to lose himself in the peace. 

Remembering his little brother who, though he wasn't dead, was in an incredibly dangerous situation. 

Slowly you backed away, giving Mycroft the space, he needed to process his emotions. 

A swell of music followed your ears as you walked into the kitchen to start making a tray of Mycroft's favorite cookies.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Grabbing Smoke

As much time as Sam spent with her best friends, sometimes she enjoyed a little bit of time alone.

Tucker was helping his mother bake cookies for some kind of fundraiser for the hospital, and Danny was busy visiting Pandora for fighting lessons. Apparently they were using swords today.

As fun as it sounded, Sam opted to stay behind, it had been a while since she'd been down to the park to feed the ducks. She didn't get quiet moments like that very often any more.

There was an uncharacteristic skip to her gait as she walked to the park, a canvas tote bag swinging from her arm.

Living in Amity Park, and especially hanging around with Danny, gave her an eerie sense to when something was amiss. Nothing quite like Danny's ghost sense, but she'd learned to detect a particular chill to the air, a prickling at the back of her neck. It could easily be mistaken for a chilly breeze, but Sam knew better. The crunch of gravel under Sam's boots was the only sound permeating the still air, not even the trees were rustling.

She continued her walk through the park, past the wishing fountain and through a trail where the trees grew slightly more dense.

The trail opened up to a large pond, it wasn't anything especially picturesque, the reeds were a little overgrown, the ground was muddy, but there were a few simple weather worn benches by the path that looped around the water.

Sam took a seat, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. She opened it, tipped a few into her hand and tossed them into the water.

The ducks immediately sped across the pond toward her, fighting for the peas that the turtles hadn't already gotten to.

Instead of grabbing another handful, she held the bag out to the empty seat to her left, waiting for a moment before shaking the bag impatiently.

A green hand slipped into the bag, pulling out a handful of peas before tossing them into the water.

"How'd you know I was here?" Kitty asked, now sitting visibly on the other end of the bench as Sam poured out more peas for both of them.

"I have my ways." Sam smirked. "What I want to know is why you've been following me all week."

"You knew for that long and you didn't say nothin'?" Kitty huffed. "Damn, I gotta up my game."

A duck waddled up and nibbled on her boot.

"Alright alright, ya hungry little doofus." Kitty lowered a hand full of peas and cooed as the duck happily ate from her palm. "Aww these guys aren't shy at all, do you come here a lot?"

"When I can." Sam tossed a few more peas into the water for the turtles. "So why are you following me?"

Kitty sat back and pressed her lips together, thinking.

"Look it's just... I don't remember much from when I was livin', you know? It's all sorta grey and fuzzy, I can't remember what anyone looked like, except Johnny." she tossed some peas to a smaller duck at the back of the group. "But as soon as I showed up here in town and I saw your face, I thought I felt... I dunno, somethin'. Like I'd seen you before, or maybe you just reminded me of someone, but I can't remember who, it's like grabbing smoke."

She lobbed a few peas a little harder than was necessary at the water. The turtles sucked them up greedily.

"So you've just been following me hoping you might remember something else?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Kitty sighed. "But it's not working."

Sam swung her foot idly between a pair of scuffling ducks, splitting them up before tossing out some more peas.

"Maybe I'm related to someone you knew. Where did you grow up?"

Kitty frowned down at the water.

"I... I don't know." she said, deflating somewhat. "I didn't even realise I forgot that."

Sam couldn't help but feel for her, Danny had told her that ghosts would often forget things from their past, especially once they'd been dead for longer than they'd been alive. Somehow she had never really considered how terrifying that must be.

"You know..." Sam started carefully. "I could show you some old family photos. Maybe you'll recognise someone?"

Kitty looked up, eyes shining brightly.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Why not?" Sam shrugged. "If you were here to cause trouble you would have done it by now."

"Aw, I never thought you'd wanna do something like that for me." said Kitty, smiling brightly. "You always seemed like such a bitch."

Sam laughed.

"If you'd spent a week being someone that wasn't Paulina, I would probably have seemed like less of a bitch."

"So you guys are big rivals or somethin'?" Kitty asked, grabbing some more peas and giggling as three ducks tried to eat from her hand at once.

"It's more that we have... conflicting ideologies. She thinks that appearances and reputation are the most important things in life, just like my parents." Sam lobbed some more peas into the water, they both watched them disappear as the turtles quickly snapped them up. "It's shallow and stupid, and I don't get why they have to push that shit on everyone. I don't care what people think, I just want to be whoever the hell I wanna be without having to fight for it all the time."

Kitty's face turned contemplative as she tapped her nails on the back of the bench.

"I think... I was like that." she said, slowly. "I wanted to feel fun and exciting, but my parents..."

She trailed off, frowning.

"My parents... I didn't like them. They didn't like me bein' the way I was, I can't really remember why."

Sam emptied out the last of the peas and scattered them over the ground, she scrunched up the empty packet and shoved it back into her tote bag.

"You know, if we went to school together we would probably have gotten along." said Sam as she stood up, gesturing toward the path. "Let's go check out those photos."

Instead of floating invisibly behind, Kitty walked by Sam's side as they headed back to her house. She idly waved at people as they drove past, grinning when someone stared a little too long and almost ran a red light.

"You know, it's nice bein' able to walk around in the day." Kitty said, skipping a little. "Wish I could do it more often."

"What's stopping you?"

"What do you think?" Kitty's lip pulled up in disgust. "Any time I show up your dumb friend sucks me up in his stupid thermos. Only reason I can walk around right now is because I got you as my get out of jail free card."

"Danny doesn't care if you just want to walk around." Sam scoffed. "He lets ghosts wander around town all the time, he only gets involved when you start breaking things."

"Uggghhh but just walking around is so boring." Kitty pouted. "I mean yeah it's nice and I like it but it gets old real quick."

"Then you'll have to get used to getting tossed back in the ghost zone. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Don't you ever get sick of his goody goody attitude?" Kitty asked. "I mean you and I aren't so different right? You're all about the rebel gig, don't you ever feel like keyin' some asshole's car, or takin' a baseball bat to some mail boxes?"

"Only if they deserve it." said Sam with a smirk. "But I feel like you aren't especially picky about whose stuff you're breaking."

They approached the door to the Manson mansion, Sam hopped up the steps and stuck the key in the lock. She touched the mezuzah on the doorpost without a second thought before opening the door and standing aside to invite Kitty in.

The ghost stared up at her warily.

"I can't get past it."

"Past what?" Sam asked.

"The mezuzah, it keeps me out."

"What?" Sam frowned. "It hasn't stopped other ghosts from getting in."

"Well it stops me." Kitty insisted. "I think it's got somethin' to do with what we believed in when we were alive. I haven't got a problem with churches but when Johnny tried to ride his bike through one he couldn't get in. His mom raised him Catholic, he says he doesn't believe in any of that stuff, but I think he still does, deep down."

"So does that mean you were Jewish?" Sam asked, smiling curiously.

"I AM Jewish." Kitty crossed her arms. "Bein' a ghost hasn't changed that, it just... means that we got a few things a little wrong."

Sam thought about that for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door again.

"Well, if you've been invited and you're not going to cause any trouble, then I don't see why you shouldn't be able to come in."

Kitty climbed the steps slowly, fingers reaching out and cautiously brushing over the mezuzah, she didn't feel anything unusual, no zap or burn or pain. She took a step through the doorway and passed the threshold without issue, no invisible force or barrier like the last time she tried to follow Sam inside.

"Well, what do you know." she said, grinning.

Sam lead her into a large, open planned kitchen and dining area, the tiles were bright white save for the specks of mud Sam's boots tracked through the room. The decor was minimalist, the atmosphere bland and sterile, she could smell some kind of citrus surface cleaner.

The back wall was all windows, leading to a patio surrounded by perfectly trimmed grass. As they approached, Sam turned, heading towards a door to their right.

The next room felt a lot more friendly, it was full of bookshelves and red tones. The lounges looked soft and inviting, a fireplace sat cold and empty against the back wall, but Kitty didn't have to try hard to imagine it roaring to life, filling the room with its warm glow.

"This is basically my Grandma's part of the house." Sam informed her, voice low. "Her bedroom is just through there, she's usually napping around this time of day so try not to make too much noise."

Kitty slipped off her jacket and laid it over the back of the lounge, already feeling at home in the cosy little room. She looked over the books as Sam fussed around some kind of large ornate chest.

"Here it is." She hefted a large photo album from the chest, carefully closing and latching it again. "Let's see if you recognise anyone in here."

Kitty sat down beside Sam as she opened up the pristine book, the outer cover was beige with the name Manson inscribed in golden cursive on the front. The first page was full of old faded photos, in greyscale or sepia tones.

"Ugh, I'm not that old." said Kitty, flicking ahead a few pages.

The pictures were colourful now, but still grainy, there was a young blonde boy in seventies style jeans leaning casually against a Chevrolet.

"Wait hold up," Kitty pointed at the boy. "Him, I feel like I've seen him before."

"That's my dad." said Sam, surprised. "His name is Jeremy, did you know him?"

Kitty hummed a little, gently tracing a finger over the picture.

"Jeremy... Jeremy, I'm not sure," she frowned. "But he definitely looks familiar."

They continued through the book, when suddenly Kitty slapped her hand down roughly on a photo of a pair of young women.

"Her! I know her! She was a mega bitch!"

"Shhh keep it down." Sam hissed.

"Sorry," Kitty pointed to the blonde girl in the photo. "That one! I don't know how I knew her, but I definitely knew her. She was a total brat."

Sam slipped the photo out of its sleeve and read the neat cursive on the back.

"This is... my Aunt Caroline, in 1985. She's my dad's sister." Sam looked up at Kitty, amused. "I can't believe you had beef with my family."

"Your family are snobs." Kitty sniffed. "Carrie was such a ditz, she thought she was sooo bitchin' because her daddy bought her a Mercedes."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sam grimaced. "Did you guys go to school together or something?"

"Maybe..." Kitty took the photo from Sam's hand, staring intently. "I'm pretty sure I skipped school a lot, I hated it there. It was a private school, we had to wear uniforms, barf."

"I would never have guessed you were a private school kid." Sam shook her head. "But most people would say that about me so it's not like I can judge."

"You went to private school?" Kitty asked, "How'd you end up in that Casper High dump?"

"Got myself expelled." said Sam, voice thick with pride. "Elementary, middle and high school, got kicked out of all three."

"Damn, you're good."

Sam grinned, slipping the photo back in its sleeve and continuing to the next page.

Kitty pointed to a few other photos, remarking on their familiarity, but not quite able to grasp how she knew them, the memories only flickered in her periphery.

"Wait," Kitty whispered, fingers brushing over a polaroid containing three people. "This is..."

The picture looked as though it were taken at some kind of party, a man and a woman faced the camera, each with a glass of champagne raised in their hands. The woman's other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage girl with auburn hair, pulled into a tidy braid. She stared glumly at the camera.

"That's Katherine." Sam said, pointing to the girl. "She was my dad's cousin, but she got hit by a car when she was-"

Sam paused, looking over at Kitty's wide eyes and then back to the photo.

"Noooo way." Sam pulled the photo out of the sleeve. "Is this you?"

Kitty took the photo in trembling hands.

"I... I forgot I used to look like that." she fiddled with a lock of her green, teased hair. "I remember this party, I didn't want to go but mom and dad threatened to take away all my records and cassettes if I didn't."

Sam stared at Kitty, mouth agape.

"You're Car Crash Katherine?! My dad talks about you all the time! He always told me about the shit you used to get up to, he'd tell me that any kind of 'rebellious behaviour' was a slippery slope to 'dying on the back of some delinquent's motorcycle'." Sam put a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You were my bad influence role model."

Kitty's red eyes shone with tears, photo still in hand, she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"This is majorly wicked! My legacy lives on! Corrupting the youth from beyond the grave!" Kitty laughed. "My parents would go totally mental."

She stopped laughing, her face turning forlorn as she drew back from Sam and stared down at the picture.

"Are they still alive?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.

"Yeah..." said Sam. "They live in a retirement home in Florida. They don't come around very often."

Kitty traced a finger over their faces.

"I wonder if they miss me." she said quietly. "Or if they were glad to be rid of the family embarrassment."

Sam didn't answer, she had wondered the same thing herself, if her parents would even care if she died. They hadn't given her a lot of reason to think they would.

She rested a sympathetic hand on Kitty's arm.

"Oh, you have a friend over bubbeleh?" a croaky voice spoke from the bedroom doorway.

Sam and Kitty both turned to see Ida Manson shuffling into the room, cleaning her glasses with her sleeve.

"Sorry Grandma, we didn't mean to be too loud." Sam apologised. "This is my... um, friend, Kitty. Kitty this is my Grandma Ida-"

"Ida?!" Kitty shot to her feet, staring in shock at the old woman. "Aunt Ida?!"

Ida squinted at Kitty, before quickly setting her glasses back on her face.

"Well as I live and breath, is that you Kathy?"

"Oh my god this is getting super weird." Sam whispered.

Kitty leapt over the ottoman to wrap Ida up in a tight hug, the old woman was surprised for a moment, but held her warmly in return.

"It's me Aunt Ida! Not really living or breathing but it's me!" Kitty laughed breathlessly.

"Oh my goodness, when all the ghosts started showing up all over town I wondered if I would ever see someone I knew." She rubbed comforting circles on Kitty's back as the ghost choked on a few sobs. "It's good to see you again Kathy."

Ida pulled away and wiped a tear from Kitty's face.

"And I'm so glad you aren't stuck wearing what your parents buried you in."

Kitty couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

"Let me guess, it was that putrid blue dress, wasn't it?"

"The dress wasn't nearly as bad as what they did to your hair." Ida snickered, patting Kitty's hand. "It had little ribbons in it and everything."

"I almost forgot you." Kitty placed her palm gently against Ida's face. "You were the only one in the family who ever loved me for being me, and I almost forgot you. I'm so sorry, I should have come to find you sooner but I just-"

"Shhhh, it's okay bubbeleh." Ida grasped her hand tight. "I think being dead is a pretty good excuse for forgetting a few things."

Sam stood beside the lounge, watching the two in shock, she wasn't entirely certain whether or not to intrude. Whatever she had been expecting to discover with Kitty today, it certainly hadn't been this.

Though in hindsight, it did explain Kitty's familiarity with Sam, people always said she had taken after her Grandma.

Ida let go of Kitty and hobbled over to the photo album still sitting on the lounge.

"Oh you don't want to look at that album." she said, as she shoved it onto the coffee table. She wandered to the other side of the room and began rummaging around in a small cupboard. "You want this one."

She pulled out a book with well worn, peeling edges. Pieces of the plastic sleeves had cracked off and crumbled away. It was old, and weatherbeaten, it was obvious that Ida had looked through it many many times.

"Here we go." she sat down in the middle of the lounge, gesturing for the two girls to come sit beside her. "These are the forbidden photos."

She opened the pages, the photos inside were entirely different from the 'official' album, there were no perfectly poised, prim and proper photos of people in nice, presentable clothes. They were all candid shots, people in the middle of eating or laughing, some were stumbling around blind drunk, a few were smoking joints. There were pictures from parties and protest rallies, in backyards and drive ins.

There was a picture of Jeremy as a young boy, grinning with one of his front teeth missing and grass in his hair.

"Only in this family would losing your baby teeth make a photo 'unsavoury'." Ida grizzled as she continued through the album. "I saved so many pictures that my husband would have thrown out otherwise."

"Ugh, Uncle Peter was such a prude, he wouldn't even let me in the house if I didn't have my shoulders covered up." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"He used to be so much more relaxed when we were young." Ida sighed. "He changed when he inherited his father's business, he forgot how to have fun."

A few pages later Kitty squealed in excitement.

"Oh my god! That's Frankie! She was my best friend, we used to do everything together!"

The Kitty in the photo looked far more like the Kitty Sam knew. Her hair was teased up, and she was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt. The other girl, Frankie, had short curled hair and a leather jacket. They each had an arm around the others' shoulder and grinned wildly.

"I love this one." Ida smiled as she pulled the picture out of the sleeve. "That was the night I gave you a lift to that concert."

"Oh that show was sooo good! I got my nose pierced there! It got so infected, Mom grounded me for a month." Kitty laughed.

"Man, and I thought I was cool for skipping school to go see Circus Gothica." Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have to come home with a tattoo next time."

"I can't believe I forgot about Frankie, I can't believe I forgot about all of this." Kitty held the photo close to her chest, a few tears running down her face. "I'm so glad it's not gone for good."

She kept the photo in hand as they looked through the rest of the album. There were many pictures of Ida, all of them with other people of all walks of life.

"Oh this was when you took us to that pride parade!" Kitty smiled. "You made Frankie so happy, and you knew a lot of the drag queens there, like a LOT."

"Grandma took me to a drag show when I was 10," said Sam. "Even took me backstage to meet them all, my parents thought we went to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh I have photos from that." Ida flipped through the pages, getting closer to the end of the album. "Here we are, oh Evelyn just LOVED you."

Sam looked at the picture of Evelyn, frowning slightly.

"Oh weird, she kinda looks like Mr Lancer's sister, he keeps her photo on his desk..." Sam paused as she processed what she just said. "That's not his sister is it?"

"You probably shouldn't bring it up." said Ida gently. "Teachers can get in trouble for associating with this sort of thing."

"That's so bogus!" Kitty cried. "I really thought this kinda stuff would be better in the future!"

"It is," Ida assured her. "But we're a long way from perfect."

Ida flipped back through the album, searching for more pictures of Kitty and Frankie. There were a good few of them, each one Ida pulled out and passed over for Kitty to look at and hold onto.

"Oh woah, is that Johnny?" Sam pointed to a picture of Kitty sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a blonde boy. "He looks exactly the same, just a little less pale."

"Oh, did Johnny come back as a ghost too?" Ida asked.

"Yeah! We've been together all this time, in sickness and in death." Kitty beamed. "Mom and dad blamed him for everything I did, even if he wasn't around when I did it. They said him and Frankie were 'corrupting' me."

She rolled her eyes.

"I bet they blamed him for my death too. They'd be so mad if they knew we were still together."

"Just goes to show they had no chance of keeping you two apart." Ida said. "Not even death could do that."

Kitty held the photo tight in both hands, her shoulders began to shake slightly.

"It was my fault you know." she said with a trembling little giggle. "Funny huh? My parents always blamed him for everything, but in the end it was my fault we got hit. We were havin' a fight over somethin' stupid and I distracted him-"

Ida wrapped an arm around Kitty, patting her head comfortingly as she laid it against the old woman's shoulder.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself bubbeleh." Ida whispered gently into her hair. "It was raining, the truck that hit you was running a red light, the driver was charged for both your deaths. Even if you did distract him, you weren't the only card at play that night."

She gave Kitty a light shake.

"And don't think I didn't see the way Johnny used to drive that thing, he was reckless. I have no doubt that he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and squeezed her tight. "It's not fair to hold all of that responsibility on yourself, even if you both did everything right, that truck still would have run that red light, it still would have been raining. It was just pure rotten luck."

Sam had never heard a ghost talk about their death before, even Danny didn't like talking about his accident, and asking about it was incredibly taboo. Sam had been pushing her luck earlier just by mentioning the car crash.

It said a lot about Kitty's love for Ida that she chose to open up about it. Sam couldn't say she was surprised, her Grandma had always been like that. Never anything but an endless well of love and support, and the occasional kick in the pants if you needed it.

"Johnny's always had rotten luck." Kitty sniffed. "Follows him like a shadow."

"Literally." Sam snorted.

After a few more moments, Ida pulled herself away from Kitty, she got up and began rooting through the cupboards, muttering to herself.

"Aha, here it is."

She brought over an empty photo album, it was roughly the size of a small pocketbook, containing only one photo sleeve per page.

"I meant to fill this with photos for Sam to keep." Ida admitted as she shuffled back over to the girls. "But I don't think she'll mind donating it to a good cause."

She winked at Sam, who nodded back.

"Here," Ida pressed the little album into Kitty's hands. "Memories are a fickle thing, but photos are forever."

"I can't take these!" Kitty insisted, pushing the album back. "They're your memories too!"

"Oh my god you're both so old." Sam laughed, "Dad has a printer/scanner. I can make copies."

As Sam took the polaroids to her dad's office, Ida and Kitty pored over the rest of the album, Kitty picking out more photos to copy. She chose a few of Ida and Sam, and even one of Carrie.

"She was a total loser and I hated her but I don't hate remembering her, you know? I want to remember everything, even the bad stuff."

She took a photo of her parents, just one.

When Sam came back with the last batch of photos, Ida finished slipping them into the little album.

"There's still a few sleeves left." Sam pointed out, holding up her phone with a smile. "We've got room for a couple of family reunion pics."

The two girls squished up against Ida as Sam snapped as many shots as she could. Ones where they smiled, ones where they laughed, ones where they laid haphazardly across the lounge together.

Then Sam took a few candids of just Kitty and Ida, as they looked through the new album they'd just made together. Capturing Kitty laughing at something as Ida looked at her with a soft, loving smile.

Kitty clutched the album to her chest as she gave Ida a long, drawn out hug.

"Thank you so much." she said, her voice thick with gratitude. "It's like I can see my life in colour again."

She left the house with the assurance that she would always be welcome back, at any time, and a promise that she would always be looking out for her 'new favourite cousin'.

Sam flicked through the photos she took on her phone, she would have to make sure to have copies printed by the time Kitty returned to visit.

She knew Kitty coming over regularly was going to make things complicated, her apparent newfound protectiveness over Sam could potentially backfire in many spectacular ways, she was petty and troublesome when in the right mood.

But then again, so was Ida, and so was Sam.

At least she had better things to do now than beat up strangers' mail boxes, Danny was certainly going to be glad to hear that.

[ifmywishescametrue]

For the prompt thing: „You can‘t say that and then not kiss me.“ for Stevetony maybe? :)

i'm so sorry this took so long but thank you for sending it, and i hope you like it!

and that's how it works - stevetony, 1.9k, getting together

“You know why this movie works? It's because, like, half of them end up unhappy,” Tony says around a mouthful of ice cream, pausing to lick the chocolate from his lips. “That's how it really goes, you know. You don't end up with the person you thought you would or they just don't fucking like you as much as you like them, and there's nothing you can do about that.”

He points his spoon at the half-asleep cat curled up at his feet on the other end of the couch, and Butterfingers blinks slowly back at him.

“And sometimes you end up spending your Friday nights talking to your cat,” Tony sighs, shaking his head. He leans forward to scratch behind her ears, and she presses her cheek into his palm as he continues to murmur, “Admittedly not my worst night, but it’s definitely not making the highlight reel. That’d be really fucking sad if it did, huh? But we haven’t quite reached that level of pathetic yet. Give me another week, maybe.”

There’s a soft knock from behind them, and Butterfingers jumps up at the sound. Tony drops his spoon into the empty ice cream container on the coffee table with another sigh and follows behind her to the front door.

Steve is on the other side, a small smile on his face and a plastic bag in his hand that he lifts up into the air to show. “I brought reinforcements.”

Tony steps back to let him in and asks, “Who told you?”

“Who says that anyone told me anything? Maybe I’ve just got a sixth sense for when you’re sad,” Steve says with a failed attempt at a wink that makes Tony laugh despite his mood. He sits back down on the couch and watches Steve unpack the bag of alcohol and Tony’s favorite snacks onto the coffee table.

“It was Nat, wasn’t it?”

Steve pops the tops on two beers, handing one to Tony. “Nope. Guess again.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “She’s the only one who knew.”

“She’s the only one you told,” Steve corrects as he tears the sticker seal on the package of store bought sugar cookies with pink frosting. He can’t disguise the disgust on his face as he puts one into Tony’s waiting hand, and Tony grins even as Steve compares them to play doh.

“So she told Bucky, then.”

“Probably. I wouldn’t know, though.” Steve shrugs, ripping open a packet of m&m’s. He pours them onto the table to sort them into two groups. Red, yellow, and orange end up in the pile for Tony, and green, blue, and brown make a pile for himself.

“This game sucks,” Tony says bluntly, and Steve looks up at him with that heartstopping smile of his.

“Your boyfriend told me,” Steve confesses, then amends, “Ex-boyfriend.”

Tony nods slowly, and he picks up an m&m to roll between his fingers until the red coating starts to melt on them. “What’d he say?”

A small box of Froot Loops joins the rest of the snacks, and Steve takes his time opening the plastic bag on the inside before answering.

“Nothing much, really. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I sort of got the impression that maybe this time is the last time.”

Tony laughs humorlessly, “Yeah, well, I guess there eventually has to be a limit on how many times you can break up and get back together before you stop doing one or the other.”

Steve hums, popping some dry cereal into his mouth. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not right now,” Tony says quietly. “Ask me again after I’ve eaten my body weight in candy and junk food.”

Steve leans back into the corner of the couch, lifting his arm for Tony to curl into his side, and he pulls a blanket over the both of them. “And what are we watching in the meantime?”

“Just finished He’s Just Not That Into You. Thinking about The Prince and Me next.”

Steve’s nose scrunches up, but he doesn’t say a word of protest as he reaches for the remote and queues the movie up. He threads his fingers into Tony’s hair as the first scene starts, and there’s a faint press of lips on his forehead. Tony holds onto him a little tighter in return and asks, “How was your day?”

He knows that Steve sees through the question for the distraction tactic that it is, but it’s another thing he doesn’t mention. Tony’s always loved that about him - the way that he doesn’t push. Steve just tells him about his day, trying everything he can to make him laugh along the way, and it works almost every time.

He feels a bit better by the time the credits are rolling, enough to be able to say, “I think it was mostly my fault.”

Steve’s hand freezes in his hair for just a moment. “Why do you say that?”

“I always had one foot out the door,” Tony says, fiddling with the pop top on his can. “That’s what he said. That it was like I was constantly waiting for him to mess up and give me a reason to leave.”

“Were you?”

Tony shrugs with one shoulder, and the pop top breaks off into his hand when he twists it one too many times. “You know that line from Sleepless in Seattle? When Becky tells Annie that her problem is that she doesn’t want to be in love, she wants to be in love in a movie? What if that’s my problem, too? That I’m waiting for it to be perfect, and then I leave when it’s not.”

Steve takes a breath, and Tony can feel the shaky rise of his chest beneath his cheek. “I don’t think that’s your problem.”

���Then what is it?” Tony asks, pushing himself up. “Why is it so fucking hard for me to make anything work? What’s wrong with me?”

Instead of answering, Steve asks, “What were you fighting about before he said that?”

Tony sighs, “I had to work late, so he said he would bring me dinner, which was nice and sweet, except when he got here, there were mushrooms on the pizza.”

“You hate mushrooms.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Tony snorts. “But I figured I would just suck it up, because, you know, it's the thought that counts or whatever, but he just wouldn't stop asking me if something was wrong and he wouldn't let it go when I said it was nothing, so I told him. I don't even know why it turned into such a big fucking thing. I said it was fine, and it didn't matter, but it just started spiralling into all these other things, and the next thing I know, we're having the exact same fight that we've had a million other times but somehow worse. I told him I couldn't do it anymore, and he said he wasn't surprised that I wanted to run again.”

“He never did seem to know you very well,” Steve says softly. He reaches a hand up, brushing a stray curl back behind Tony's ear. His thumb trails down Tony's jaw, and Tony feels some of his frustration ebb away like there's magic in that light touch. “Almost like he was trying to get it wrong with how often he did.”

“Not everyone’s you,” Tony tries to joke, but the intensity of Steve’s eyes on him make it fall flat.

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask for someone to know you. For them to want to know you like you’re the most important thing they’ll ever learn.”

Tony looks away, down at his hands, and he shakes his head. “Isn’t it, though?”

“No,” Steve says, and he crooks a finger beneath Tony’s chin to bring his eyes back up to his own. “It’s really not. And there’s nothing wrong with you, either. There’s always the wrong guy first in the movies, isn’t there? Always hurts just before it gets really good.”

Tony smiles, fragile but there. “How long do you think I have to wait for that part?”

Steve turns his face now, and his fingernails are pressed firmly into the palm of his hand, almost like he’s trying to hold himself back. “He never liked me, you know. Your boyfriend. He rolled his eyes every time I opened my mouth.”

“Should’ve been my first sign,” Tony replies, but his brow furrows at the shift in topic.

“He always thought I was trying to come between the two of you. He was convinced that I have feelings for you, and he only told me you broke up so he could bring it up one last time. To tell me that I got what I wanted. You all for myself.”

Steve looks back at him, and Tony finds it harder to breathe. “Is that what you wanted?”

“I never messed with your relationship. I wouldn’t do that to you,” Steve says earnestly. It’s easy to believe him.

“And the rest of it?”

Steve bites his lip, and Tony has the urge to smooth his thumb over the indentation he leaves there. It’s not an unfamiliar one, but it’s been a long while since he last let himself think of it. But now… now there’s something like hope blossoming in his chest, and it beats in time with his heart and every unsteady breath that Steve takes.

“He wasn’t completely off base,” Steve admits. “Just about everyone seems to know that I’m in love with you except for you.”

“You’re in love with me,” Tony whispers.

“I’ve wanted you for so long. I just never thought you could want me, too.”

“Since when?” Tony asks, desperate to know. “How long?”

Steve takes Tony’s hand in his own, brushing over his knuckles. “I don’t know when it happened. All I know is that one day I looked at you, and I realized that there was no one else I would rather be around. I could give you all my time and still want to give you more.”

Tony opens his mouth, searching for the right words, but Steve is gone from his side before he can find them.

“Look, just - don’t say anything right now. Don’t answer. I know it’s a lot and my timing couldn’t possibly be worse here. Just give it some time and think about it. Take however long you need, and then come find me when you’re ready with however it is you feel. Even if it’s not the same as me.”

Steve turns like he’s about to leave, but he pauses at the sound of his name. Tony stands before he can even think about doing it, crossing the space between them in two quick steps.

“That's not what you're supposed to do,” Tony laughs breathlessly, taking Steve’s face between his hands. “You can't say that and then not kiss me right now. Bad breakup with the wrong guy, heartfelt speech from the right one, symphony worthy kiss. That's how it always goes. No leaving.”

Steve’s eyes are wide, and they flicker down to Tony’s lips. “The right one?”

“I’ve loved you since about a month after I met you,” Tony confesses. “Are you really going to make me wait any longer than I already have for you?”

Steve answers by pulling him in close, one hand on his waist and the other in his hair. Tony’s eyes fall shut, and Steve kisses him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever get to do. All Tony can do is hold on as he gets swept away, lost inside of everything he’s always wanted.

“Did you hear that?” Steve whispers against his lips.

Tony pulls back just enough to see his eyes. He wonders if his own are shining as brightly. “Hear what?”

“The symphony.”

[celestial-kit]

August

Inspired by August by Taylor Swift. All characters are 18+.

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x reader

Warnings: NSFW, minors dni, angst, cheating, loss of virginity, dry humping, Tsukishima is kind of an asshole in this, I don’t know how to write endings

______________________________________________________________

You never expected your summer to end in heartbreak. You had every intention to have a fun, harmless summer with your friends, but now you’re here, a boy that will most certainly hurt you, a boy that you are in love with, and you know that there isn’t another ending to this story. 

You first saw Tsukishima Kei in your dad’s lab, bent over a microscope, examining some sort of sample. The lab is on the edge of the water in your little beach town. Apparently, there was a rare microorganism discovered in the coral reefs, so the lab got a grant to expand their operation and study the small creatures. Tsukishima was hired as an intern for the summer to help with the project, and you were immediately captivated by him. His blonde hair, golden eyes, broad shoulders, sharp cheekbones, everything about him created a thirst in you that you needed to quench. 

You quickly reached out to make a connection, learning that he was a biology major at a school in Sendai City and moved to your little town for the summer for this internship. While you did your best to flirt with him, his phone lit up with a text and you caught a glance of his lock screen. It was a picture of him and a girl. You paused mid joke to ask, “Is that your girlfriend?” 

He didn’t look at you as he replied to the text and said, “Yeah.”

You could feel your heart start to crack, disappointed by the discovery, but you still found yourself gravitating towards him over the coming weeks, going out of your way to talk to him, spend time with him, doing anything to get closer to him. 

One afternoon you were driving your car through town on your way to the local ice cream shop when you saw Tsukishima walking on the sidewalk, his headphones over his ears, hands in his pockets, and his head tilted toward the sky, presumably admiring the clear sky. 

You skidded to a stop next him, rolling your window down and pushing your sunglasses down your nose to look him in the eyes. He stopped strolling, surprised, and pulled his headphones down to hear what you had to say.

“Get in the car,” you smiled sweetly at him. You knew it was wrong to continue to pursue this, you knew he had a girlfriend, you knew it would hurt when you had to let him go, but part of you hoped that you could have him, keep him. 

He didn’t reject you, but rather gave you a smirk as he rounded your car, getting in your passenger seat. You laughed giddily as you continued your drive to the ice cream shop. After getting your ice cream, you sat on a bench overlooking the beach, appreciating the way the waves crashed on the shoreline. As you talked to each other, you found yourself becoming mesmerized by him. Watching him as his lips curved in a smile from a fond memory, his eyes lighting up as he let out a soft chuckle as he reminisced. 

He looked down at you after a minute and said, “Your ice cream is melting.” And sure enough, it was. The creamy vanilla had started to drip down the cone in your hand, down your fingers and hand, and you exclaimed with a quiet, “Oh!” as you searched for a napkin to clean yourself up. Before you could find one, you felt Tsukishima grab your arm to bring your hand up to his mouth and used his tongue to clean the sticky cream of your hand. He made eye contact with you as he made long swipes up your hand with his tongue. You couldn’t stop your breath from hitching in your throat and your heart from pounding in your chest. 

When he had cleaned up most of your mess, he stood up, a soft blush painting his cheeks as he said, “I should go.” Then he started walking away. You put a hand out, getting ready to stop him, tell him to wait, but he turned around to look at you and said, “I’ll see you later.” 

You found yourself making plans around him, waiting for him to be free so you could see him again, even canceling plans that you had been looking forward to in case he called you. One Saturday afternoon, Tsukishima texted you, “Meet me behind the mall.” So you got in your car and met him behind the cookie shop that was attached to the mall. The parking lot was empty as he climbed into your passenger seat, and you looked at him expectantly. 

“Where do you want to go?” you ask, trying to quell any hope in your heart as you waited for his reply. 

“Nowhere,” he replied, and then leaned across your console to grab your face and pull your lips to his. Your heart started to pound again, you could feel the beat of it in your ears, and even though you knew you should stop him, tell him that it was wrong, you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You were so happy that he wanted you, so you let him kiss you. 

He pressed his tongue into your mouth, massaging your own and making you whine into the kiss. His other hand moved to your hip, grabbing and squeezing you over your skirt as he tried to pull you closer and deepen the kiss. When he pulled away, he reached under his seat to push it as far back as it could go, then he looked at you and said, “Come here.” His voice was gravelly and he looked at you in a way that made heat pool in your stomach and wetness seep into your panties. You scrambled over the console, climbing into his lap as he grabbed your hips as he seated you on top of his hard cock through his pants. 

You gasp at the contact, not expecting to feel him in that way, but still finding yourself trembling at the feeling as he dragged your clothed cunt against the front of his pants. He brought your lips down to his and continued to kiss you while thrusting up against your heat, making you mewl and gasp and pant against his lips. 

You hadn’t told him you were a virgin, never finding someone until this moment who you were interested in doing this with. But now as you feel pleasure rack across your body, you think that you wouldn’t mind giving it to him. 

He leaned his head back, resting on the back of his seat as he watched you grind yourself down on him, chasing a high that you had never felt before. You gripped his shoulders tightly as you pressed down harder, faster until you felt your mind being taken over by static, your mouth dropping open as you spasmed against his chest and he continued to thrust against you until he stopped with a grunt. 

You both breathed heavily as you rested your head on his chest, looking down to find that your skirt had hiked up from him grabbing your ass and moving you along his length, your panties completely exposed to him and anyone that might walk by the car. You could see your slick had dripped down your thighs and onto the front of his pants, and there was a distinct wet spot where Tsukishima had finished. 

“You made a mess,” Tsukishima said darkly, as you examined the scene. You looked at him, your face beating red from embarrassment, unsure how to take his comment.

“I’m sorry,” you dipped your head, trying to avoid his gaze. 

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him and said, “Don’t be.” Then he was kissing you again with your head feeling light and your heart feeling full. 

After that moment, you spent the rest of the summer waiting for his call, meeting him privately, and touching each other, despite the guilt that you felt after each interaction. One night, he asked you to go see a movie, and he fingered you in the back of the dark moving theatre, one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet while he whispered in your ear about how you were a dirty girl. Another day, you met him under the pier on the beach, laying out a blanket to have a picnic and you ended up giving him a blowjob, choking as he pushed your head down on his cock and wincing when he came down your throat. 

Each interaction made you feel sorry for his girlfriend, but they also made you fall harder for him, and you never wanted to let him go.

Now, you find yourself with one week left of summer, in his makeshift apartment, laying on blankets in his living room while the tv plays a movie that is long forgotten. Tsukishima has his fingers inside you, rubbing against your walls and making you see stars. You’re crying out for him as you lay naked underneath him, and he hovers over you with a smirk.

“Kei, please, Kei! I need you,” you whine. You know this is your last chance to be with him, he was leaving in just a few days to go back to school, and he would be busy with the lab right up until he left. 

He shoves his fingers harder inside you, making you cry out again, and says, “Are you sure?”

You nod, sure that you want him, that you need him, but you also say, “I’ve never…” trailing off, unsure how to explain that he’ll be your first. He leans down, softly kissing your lips and shushing you, pulling his fingers out of your cunt to rub gentle circles on your clit. 

“I know,” he whispers. “We’ll go slow.” Then he’s kissing you while your pushing his shirt off his shoulders, feeling the lean muscles of his chest and down his abdomen until you reach his pants. With shaky hands, you undo the button and he pushes them down his legs with his underwear, letting his hard length spring free. You reach down to give him a few pumps, feeling the weight of him in your hands as you shiver at the thought of him filling you up.

He pulls a condom out of his packet and starts rolling it down his length, then he’s lining himself up with your entrance while his forearms brace themselves next to your head. He looks down into your eyes before asking, “Are you sure?” 

When you nod, he starts pushing in, slowly filling you up as you gasp and tears well in your eyes. The stretch is unlike anything you’ve felt before, and it’s uncomfortable, it even hurts a little, but it also amazes you that you are so close to Tsukishima. You can see the blissed out look on his face as he continues to push in until he’s bottomed out and his balls are pressed snuggly against you, and it makes you want to keep going.

He holds himself there to give you time to adjust to the new pressure inside you, and you can feel the tears start to pour down your cheeks as you reach up to fist your hands in his hair and whisper, “I love you.” 

At this, he drops his head to the crook of your neck and sighs your name, gently kissing and nipping at your neck as he pulls out and gently pushes back in. You’re acutely aware of the fact that he didn’t return your sentiment, that he may not love you back, but at this moment you don’t know if you care because he is inside you and the feeling of him dragging along your walls makes you cry out and hold onto him tighter. 

He continues to push into you at this slow pace, and you continue to cry as he reaches down to rub circles into your clit, trying to get you to reach your peak before him. You end up cumming together, a watery sob leaving your lips as pleasure rocks through you and you realize that this moment with him is over.

Tsukishima stays on top of you for a few more moments before he pulls his softening length from you and stands to discard the used condom and clean himself up. You use one of the blankets that you’re laying on to wrap yourself up, feeling vulnerable and exposed as you watch him walk around his apartment and get dressed. You used the edges of the blanket to wipe the tears from your face and you sniffle a little when you ask, “Will you call me? When you’re back at school?” 

Tsukishima pauses his search for a clean shirt to look over his shoulder at you, giving you a sympathetic smile and saying “Of course” before continuing his search. You snuggle deeper into the blanket that you’ve cocooned yourself in as you feel a weight in your heart that you knew would come at the end of this.

_

When Tsukishima left, he gave you a hug and kissed your cheek, telling you that he would call you when he got the chance. True to his word, he did call you. He told you he missed you, asked you what you were wearing, requested you send him pictures. You always complied because you loved him, and you wanted him to want you. Sometimes late at night, he would call and whisper into your ear about how he needed you, and he would tell you how to touch yourself as he jacked off on the other end. 

Eventually though, the phone calls became shorter and the time between calls got longer. He stopped calling you late at night, stopped telling you that he missed you, and you could tell that he was ready for it to end. You cried when you knew it was over, even though he didn’t say it, you could tell by the way he said goodbye at the end of a call that he would not call again. 

You hoped that he knew that you loved him, that he brought you something you didn’t know existed and he will forever live in your heart. You hoped that he found happiness, that his girlfriend gave him everything you did and more, and you hoped that one day, even if it was far in the future, that he would come back to your open arms, despite the fact that he broke your heart.

[mysticalrambling]

Hi this is mine request, y/n and chris (evans) are married and the have 2 kids, Emma and Jason, and y/n takes Emma to get there nails and hair done they have a girls day , while the boys a a boys day at home, and when y/n and Emma comes home, the boys have cooked dinner for the girls and later that night the have a family movie night, in matching pyjama's

A/N: I loved the plot line and I was happy to write about it. This is what I came up with and I might have added a few more things to the plot line. I love dad Chris Evans and I would love to write more about him. Hope you guys like it and please tell me what you think about it.

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Family Time (C.E)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master list)

Warnings: None. Fluff all the way.

Summary: dad! Chris Evans x reader. Chris and the reader spends the whole day with their family. They enjoy the free day with their children and enjoy every moment of it.

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Having two kids was a bittersweet experience for the two of you as they were close in age so they fought a lot. It could be over the simplest of things such as who will eat in which bowl or who will cuddle with daddy at night. Emma and Jason loved each other to death but Jason being the elder was sometimes a little too stubborn. The one thing that always came as a shock to Chris’s family was that your son was a total daddy’s boy and vice versa for your daughter. Your family was always a little different from the others and you loved it.

“Mommy, Jacey pulled on my hair and threw my dollies to the ground.” Fat tears poured down her baby blue eyes as she jumped on your shared bed, effectively waking you both up. Chris just groaned and buried his head in the soft pillows and hands placed on his ears. You didn’t blame him, you both were up pretty late last night because Jason had a severe stomach ache. But he was okay now, considering he was busy annoying his younger sister.

“I will scold him but can you lie down with daddy now so I could freshen up and make you guys breakfast.”

“But I want to stay with you-,” she began to protest and you quickly silenced her by promising a girls only day.

“Besides, you don’t want to cuddle with daddy?” Chris growled playfully and started tickling your three and a half year old daughter. Taking this as your cue to leave, you went to the washroom. Meanwhile, Jason also joined the two of them in bed and lazed around for the whole morning, You prepared pancakes and scrambled eggs that was your family’s favorite breakfast and put out some dog food for Dodger.

“I want dad to feed me today.” Your five year old son declared when Emma sat on Chris’s lap to be pampered by him.

You sensed a fight heading towards the dining room and you quickly tried to diffuse the situation. “You are going to spend the whole day with your father today so let him feed Emma, please.” He huffed out a fine and you cut his pancakes in to little pieces.

“I am thinking of taking James to do some grocery shopping and then spend the whole day at home.” Chris was free today because his shooting does not start until Monday and he wanted to spend as much time possible with his family before he gets busy. He always hated being apart from you guys and would feel bad if he missed out an important step in his children’s life because of his career. You guys were truly blessed to have him in your life.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I will get them both ready for the day and then we can all get on with our day.” Pecking him on the lips, you took the kids to your room and Chris went to clean the dishes.

“Mommy, I don’t want to sit in the booster seat. I want to sit with you.”

“No, baby, it is not safe.” She was hell bent on her request today and you just ran out of patience. Snapping at her, you were instantly filled with guilt because tears pooled in her eyes.

“Darling, I am sorry. Babe, can you drop Emma and I at the parlor before going to the supermarket?”

“Sure. Just let me get my keys.” Sitting in the middle of two booster seats was highly uncomfortable but you would do it for your children. The whole car ride was filled with both the kids babbling about their school and day care respectively. Your husband silently made eye contact with you from the rearview mirror and you knew he was thanking you. “When should I pick you both up?”

“I’ll text you half an hour earlier.” Getting Emma out of her seat, you walked towards your favorite salon. You already knew that Emma wanted a mixture of blue and pink nail polish because colors are gender neutral. Chris always made sure that your kids never follow the obscene rules set by the society.

“We are going to have so much fun, mommy.” The little girl skipped towards the reception and stood on her tip toes to see you make the reservation.

“Baby, do you want to get a haircut as well?”

“Are you getting one?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want one as well.” The receptionist smiled at your daughter’s excitement and complimented her saying that she looked just like Chris. Emma puffed out her cheeks and mumbled, “I look like my mommy.”

“Sorry. You are a carbon copy of your mother. Now, I have you two stationed right next to each other and you have manicure first.”

On the other side, Chris sat his little boy in the trolley and marveled at how big he was slowly getting. He had decided to properly pamper his family today and an Italian dinner was just a start. One of the things that you always craved in both your pregnancies was his pasta pomodoro and he sometimes had to make it at three in the morning to satisfy your cravings.

“Daddy, can I get some cookies?”

“Yes, but only one because we don’t want you to have stomach ache.” Chris quickly finished the grocery shopping and then went in to Cartier. Pampering his girls was his top most priority today so he had already ordered a bracelet for you with all of the family’s birth stones engraved in it, He also ordered the same exact bracelet for his baby girl just in a smaller size. Emma always wanted the same exact things as her mother and Chris always tried to fulfill her wish.

“Can we get them some pretty flowers, as well?” Quickly, he wiped all the cookie crumbles from Jason’s face and agreed with him. They decided on getting them some pink roses because you both loved them.

The moment they arrived at the house, they quickly got to cooking but Chris made sure that he went no way near the stove. He was given the task to open up the spaghetti packet and picking out the red carrots.

Meanwhile, you both got your nails done with you opting for a bright yellow colour. Chris’s favorite colour. You got your hair cut in square layers while Emma just got a nice trim for her dirty blonde hair. Both the kids had inherited Chris’s hair and eyes but the nose and the smile was all you. During the whole time, you and your daughter talked about anything and everything. She talked about the cute boy in her daycare and how she wanted to be his friend but she got a whole circus running around in her tummy.You just chuckled and thought to not tell Chris because he will freak out and bully that poor boy.

After about two hours, Chris and James came to pick you both up and the whole way back, both the kids kept bickering with each other. The moment you opened the front door to your house, your favorite aroma hit you and a blissful sigh escaped your lips. “Have I told you this new look suits you a lot?” Your husband took you in a backside hug while both your munchkins ran towards the dining room.

“Just like a thousand times from the moment you picked us up. Is this dinner a hint?”

“Well, it’s true and maybe it is.” You kissed him slowly on the lips because the prospect of another kid was exciting to say the least.

“Daddy, I want the pasta!” Emma screamed from across the hallway and you both made your way towards them. The dining was all set and the kids were already sitting at their assigned places with their plastic forks in hand. Chris quickly served the food and you all got to eating. Dodger was sitting by your chair and happily munching on his food. Making silent eye contact with your husband, you guys silently agreed on having another kid. You were thrilled.

They all went to their rooms and came out in their matching Captain America pjs that Chris bought from Los Angeles the last time he was there for shooting. He always loved the idea of twinning with his famiily.

“We have a little surprise for you, don’t we, Jason?” The boy ran towards the living room and you all followed suit. Chris gave you a bouquet with a red long box and Jason did the same but with a smaller size to his baby sister.

The moment you saw the content in the jewelry box, tears welled up in your eyes. This was such a thoughtful gift and there was an empty place in the bracelet for a new gemstone. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“I am giving you a lot of hints, here.”

“You don’t have to convince me, baby. I was thinking about this as well.”

“Then, it’s done. Baby number three of our family.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Emma jumped on Chris from the back and he immediately caught her in his arms.

“No problem, baby. Which movie do you guys want to watch?” He asked but he already knew the answer.

“Lion King!” There were a lot of things that your kids didn’t agree with but this was an exception. They were both die hard fans of Lion King.

“Aw, I thought we will watch Captain America today. But that’s okay, I guess.” He pretended to be hurt by their answer but the kids took it seriously.

“No, daddy. We love Captain America and we can watch it today.” Little hands cupped his light stubbled cheeks and Chris just smiled at his two babies. He was so lucky to have them and he could not wait for a third one.

“It’s okay, bubs. I was just kidding, We can watch it tomorrow. Today is Lion King’s day.” They all got together under the blanket and kept all the snacks on their laps. This was what Chris wanted the whole day; his whole family under his arms, happy.

“I love you.” He whispered to you while you cleaned off Emma’s sticky fingers and the drool on Jason’s chin.

“I love you, too.” You spent the whole night on that couch and somewhere in between the movie, Dodger came up and cuddled to your side. Your life was blissful and it was all because of Chris, the love of your life.

Hope you guys liked it!!

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A/N: This is just some family dribble that I wrote related to Chris Evans. I just love the idea of dad Chris. Send me some ideas related to Chris as a family man and I will be happy to write about it. Tell me if you wanted to be in the taglist.

Tag list: @maximeevansblog, @justile 

Like, comment and reblog.

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[bowieandqueen11]

Mistletoe / Howl Pendragon Imagine

Request: "Alright, mister. I know you're the one who keeps hanging up mistletoe everywhere." with howl please? ❤️ 

This is so CUTE i’m BLUSHING THANK YOU <3

If you like, please comment and reblog!

Beyond the snow, past the diamond glistening pine trees that sparkle in the swirl storm, if you hop over the cobblestones that line the babbling river that divides the velvety fields, you’ll come across a castle.

Once you clear the surrounding woodlands, and manage to open the creaking hinges of the magic door, you’ll manage to spot a young boy named Markl holding a slightly wobbling ladder still in the middle of a large room, filled to the brim with flashing lights. Covering the walls, strung to and fro from the ceiling, every space in that room is blinking and twinkling with sparks of colour. Bright eyes reflect their flashes as another young person widens theirs even further, feeling the ladder bounce back fully onto the floor.

‘Markl! If I fall off we’ll never get this tree finished before Howl comes down!’

‘I can’t help if my arms are small!’

‘And your voice is loud!’

The Christmas tree is almost ridiculous in its size, as the top few pines scrape across the ceiling and drag Markle’s sleeve with it. Despite the frenzy, and the shaking baubles that seem to bounce around with the two of you, both of you are grinning from ear to ear, waiting eagerly for the look on Howl’s face when he comes down from the bathroom and see the state of his living room. Packets of tinsel still lie unopened on the floor, purples and pinks and anything vibrant you could grab your hands on, and you almost trip over their tussles as you jump down to the floor.

Taking a step back, you place one hand on your hip, a massive smile lightening up your face. Wrapping your other arm around the apprentice’s shoulders, you squeeze him into your side as you both gaze up in awe at the awe striking tree in front of you. However, your lips twitch into a little frown as you spot a flash of something from the corner of your eye, twisting your head slightly until you look at the empty staircase. Raising your eyebrows, you see a little specks of green swinging from one of the banisters.

‘Hey Markl, you didn’t tell me you had bought mistletoe.’

Markl glances up at you with a confused expression, before following your gaze to land on the stairs too.

‘I don’t think I did.’

~

Getting closer to Christmas Day, Howl (after getting over the very realistic shock of the decorated room), had finally been convinced into visiting one of the local village’s Christmas markets. The whole castle was full of cheer and bustle as Howl wrapped his cape around your shoulders and linked your arm within his. Smiling down at you, his long legs began to stride the two of you towards the front door, before his shoes quickly skid to a stop on the floorboards. Leaving you by the steps, he pressed a kiss against your forehead before running back into the room.

‘Stay here a moment, my starlight, I forgot the basket you gave me up in our bedroom.’

Before you could even tell him you had made a few spare to leave by the entryway, his hair had flipped and his frame had disappeared into a blur. 

Humming to yourself, you try to stifle the excitement you feel bubbling in the pit of your stomach at the prospect of a day wandering the cobblestone streets under the falling snowflakes, warm in your Howl’s arms, treating yourself to chocolate, taking warm sips of hot chocolate by the market stalls and just feeling so bubbly and content.

Wandering over to Markl, you look over his shoulder to see his tongue sticking out in concentration. Reaching over his head, you hold the nail in place as he places the finishing touches onto his very homemade, raggedy, but well loved stocking he hangs over Calcifer’s pit. 

‘Where’s he gone off to?’

Markl places his final sticker on the fluff collar of his stocking before taking a step back to admire his handiwork.

‘If you don’t go get him, we both know that we may not see him for the rest of the day.’

‘Hmm, perhaps you’re right.’

Skipping up the stairs, your step falters as you pass the upstairs hallway. Glancing up, you see another bough of mistletoe you were sure you hadn’t seen this morning hastily pinned up onto the light.

‘What is that wizard up to?’

~

Beaming, you place the last stream of charcoal icing into the splattered piping bag before squirting it onto the snowman’s nose. Straightening up the cookie, Markl reaches past your arm to grab onto the golden sprinkles, littering half across the table as the quiet chatter of Calcifer fades into the background. 

‘Now, are you two making a mess again?’

Taking another blank cookie, you blush as Howl comes wandering in the front door, shaking the snow out of his hair. He drops the groceries onto the last square of the table that hadn’t been caked in icing, unclipping his cape and pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

‘No more than usual, my love.’

He laughs, a deep whole hearted sound as he pulls out the stool next to you and grabs the cookie from your hand.

‘Well, they do look delicious, so I suppose I’ll let you away with it this time.’

He takes a bite as you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

‘And they taste delicious too!’

You giggled at the crumb covered smile he gives you, reaching up with your thumb to wipe a few away from his lips. He, in turn, grabs the lapel of your apron and pulls you towards him, pressing a crumbly kiss against the tip of your nose and tickling your forehead with his hair.

‘Nice try, mister, but all your flattery won’t make me forget what you’re up to!’

‘What would I be up to, starlight?’

He presses a few quick kisses against your forehead, before you push him off and brandish your piping bag at his face.

‘Alright, mister. I know you're the one who keeps hanging up mistletoe everywhere!’

He blushes at that, a smirk twitching on his face as he gazes down at you. Clearing his throat slightly, he suddenly becomes quite bashful as he looks away from you, before slowly pointing his finger up towards the ceiling. Following his direction, you glance upwards at the mistletoe haphazardly stuck above your head.

‘Has my plan worked? It’s been so difficult trying to distract you so I could place them up.’

Instead of replying, you leapt forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your lips fervently against his. His eyes widen in surprise and awe as you kiss him, the force of you tumbling into him knocking the two of you onto the floor. Landing on top of him, he places his hands onto your arms to steady you as the two of you break apart. Staring at each other in surprise for a moment, the two of you suddenly burst into giggles as you shuffle your legs to comfortably rest against his hips, reaching down to gently tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear.

‘I think it worked very well.’

[pretchatta]

REBELS APPRECIATION WEEK, DAY 2: FAVOURITE CREATURE

It was a rare day off for the Ghost crew. Hera had skillfully tucked the ship out of sight of Imperial eyes, amongst the rolling hills of Lothal’s grassy plains. 

Kanan was helping Hera with some repairs in the cockpit, Zeb was watching Sabine create her latest artistic masterpiece in the gun turret (“Non-permanent!” Hera and Kanan had both yelled in unison, and she’d rolled her eyes and groaned an “Of course.”) and so Ezra was free to do whatever he felt like.

And he felt like practising Jar’Kai.

With Kanan out of the way, it had been easy to sneak into his room and borrow (not steal!) his lightsaber. No-one was around to see him slip out into the long grasses, and then he was alone. He held Kanan’s lightsaber in one hand and his own in the other. With two simultaneous flicks of his thumbs, twin beams of humming blue energy swept out in front of him. 

Kanan hadn’t taught him any of the training forms for Jar’Kai, despite asking several times, so he made up his own, twirling the blades around himself. He imagined his Jedi robes flaring dramatically as he leapt and spun, looking just like the old forbidden holos his parents used to let him watch. This was so cool, Kanan only wanted to make Jedi training as little fun as he could, why else would he not let Ezra do this–

The blades struck each other above his head, and he was unprepared for the way they bit together. He managed to hold onto his, but in his off-hand Kanan’s twisted out of his grip. The blade retracted into the hilt as the metal cylinder spun through the air and vanished into the grasses.

“Karabast,” Ezra muttered. “I guess that’s why you need the proper forms for this.”

He took a step towards where the saber had fallen, but before he could get there, the blades of grass twitched. A loth-cat leapt out, looking inquisitively up at him. Gripped between its teeth was Kanan’s unlit lightsaber.

“Hey there,” Ezra said, grinning at the creature. “Did you fetch that for me?” He reached out to take the saber back, but with a sweep of its tail, the cat turned and scampered away.

“Wait, come back!” Ezra chased after the loth-cat, but it flicked his ears at him happily. Its eyes were lit up with the fun of the game.

“Oh man, Kanan’s gonna kill me! ‘This lightsaber is your life, Ezra,’” he said in a poor imitation of his master’s voice, “and I’ve just given his to a loth-cat!”

Ezra took off again, racing after the creature, but it stayed ahead of him easily. Each time he got close it would leap gracefully away before turning its head back to make sure Ezra was still playing. 

He tried every trick he knew; running at it quickly, approaching slowly and then pouncing, even walking away to see if reverse psychology would bring the loth-cat closer to him. Nothing worked. He was dreading facing Kanan, and worse, asking for his help to get the saber back.

Ezra watched the loth-cat happily curling its tail as it looked right back at him, lightsaber firmly grasped in its mouth. He could swear it was grinning at him. He could almost feel the creature’s satisfaction... 

Wait.

What if he tried to connect with it? 

He still wasn’t convinced he could do this, but by this point he was desperate. He closed his eyes, stretched out a hand and emptied his mind, focusing his senses forwards towards the loth-cat. It was smug, pleased that it had won the game to hold onto the strange stick. Ezra used this to form a bond with the creature; they both wanted the stick, and they both loved playing under the open sky. They were friends, right? And now that the game was over, it was okay for the loth-cat to bring the stick back to Ezra. 

He could feel the cat warming to him. It agreed with his logic, and a few moments later Ezra felt soft fur under his outstretched hand. The cat purred, happy to have made a friend, and Ezra opened his eyes and retrieved Kanan’s lightsaber hilt. That hadn’t been so hard. He scratched the loth-at under the chin and smiled at it – maybe it was pretty cute.

He should probably return the lightsaber to Kanan’s room before his master realised it was gone...

---

In the cockpit, Kanan sipped his fresh cup of caf as he watched his apprentice through the viewport.

“See, he got it back!” Sat next to him, Hera had her perpetually cold fingers wrapped around her own cup. “I told you you didn’t have to go down there.”

Kanan’s brow remained creased in a disapproving frown. “I’m still going to discipline him for losing it. And for stealing it in the first place!”

“No, dear, that’s a terrible idea,” Hera said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “The fear of you finding out will do far more to make sure he never does it again.”

Kanan huffed out a sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I always am. And speaking of being right, we really do need to fix the proximity sensor, I think there’s a whole frequency band it doesn’t pick up.”

Hera leaned over to bring up the results of the latest diagnostic scan, and Kanan finally turned away from the viewport to give his captain and the repairs his full attention.

---

“Pay up, big guy!” Sabine crowed from her perch on the turret gun’s controls.

Zeb grumbled from the gunner’s seat as he handed over the last blue cookie from the packet. “I still can’t believe you chose to root for the kid.”

“Not for the kid – Kanan’s training,” she said through a mouthful of cookie. “Had to kick in sometime.”

“Hmph. Fair enough.” Zeb glared through the transparisteel bubble to where he could still just about see Ezra, who was now walking back towards the Ghost with two lightsabers in his hands and a loth-cat on his shoulder. “I just wanted to see telling-off he would’ve got if Kanan had found out.”

A cunning look came over Sabine’s face. “Maybe next time we can engineer that...”

[todoscript]

Love Capsule

anonymous requested: Can I request a Bakugou scenario where the reader and the Bakusquad drag him out on a shopping trip and they see a whole section of vending machines and decide to check them out to see what cute, tasty or weird things they can find and the reader and Bakugou either get lost/ditched or squeezed together in a tight row but they have a good time and maybe the reader got a rare all might mysery figure and Bakugou wants it, so they they he can have it in exchange for a date?

genre: fluff pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader word count: 4.8k+ warnings: bakusquad shenanigans. bakugou cursing. pining.

author’s note: My Bakugou angst fic isn’t done yet but I wrote this request on the side. I wanted to have something to publish after not posting any written work for awhile so I did my best to get this out asap. sorry if it seems rushed! (also reposting this because the post stopped showing up in the tags).

There are only a fair bit of things Bakugou loathes more than wasting his valuable time. And that includes wasting that time by getting dragged into public places he has no desire to be, alongside the four most senseless nitwits the boy has ever had the displeasure of befriending.

It feels less like a friend group to him and more of a gathering of idiots as he watches four out of the six huddle around the aisle of vending machines across the mall. Where’s the other one, you might ask? You’re standing right next to him, sipping a bottle of sweet lemon tea dispensed to you from those vending machines.

“Ooh, look at this one!” The other girl in his squad, styling unruly pink hair, pokes a finger toward a blue machine in particular. What she finds interesting about it is that it’s absent of all buttons except a single one above the coin slot.

“Says here that you only have to pay a hundred yen for a mystery item,” Sero reads the instructions printed boldly across the surface, his grin showing his pearly whites. “Can range from food to even toys and cheap plastic jewelry.”

Popping up behind his taller friend, Kaminari squints incredulously at the sign before his eyes brighten like he’s concocted a conspiracy. “No, dude, I’ve heard of these kinds of vending machines before! They want you to think it’s some ordinary convenience vending machine, but these things actually have some super-secret big prize hidden inside!”

“Uh, no, that’s how you get your money robbed from you, Kaminari,” Kirishima tells the blonde, and yet his warnings end up floating from one ear and flying out the other. Kaminari fishes out a small stash of coins taut in between the lint balls of his pockets.

“Yeah yeah, just wait until you eat those words when I come home with a Playstation 5!”

“Why would there be a Playstation 5 of all things in there?” Ashido asks skeptically. She notes the small slot near the bottom, appearing sizable to dispense a large water bottle at most.

“Okay, maybe not an actual PS5, but probably the voucher you take to the game store to retrieve one, of course!” He waves the doubt away as he kneels and begins his succession of slotting coins in the machine until agitation eventually ebbs his features. About five hundred yen down the drain and all he’s amounted with in exchange are two Gudetama keychains, two packets of off-brand oreo cookies, and one can of that cheap instant black coffee he dislikes. Though if it’s one thing, he and the drink have in common it’s that they’re both positively bitter.

Kirishima, Sero, and Ashido all snicker wryly behind him while he deadpans at the snotty series of prizes with the skin between his eyebrows crinkled in defeat. Ashido takes this as the time to move along the row, dragging her sullen blond friend by the elbow. “Moving on! I want to get to the one with the Yakult drinks already!” She points onward and leads her compadres down the treasure trove of intriguing automated food vendors. Two of the boys press forward enthusiastically. Kaminari has to be lugged out of his brooding in order to play along.

“God, please just take me out already,” Bakugou mutters while leering his signature miffed face behind them. According to the giggle he registers chiming to his left, it seems you heard his complaints.

“Hm, not having a good time, I’m guessing?” you ask. The metallic edge of your lemon tea creases into the cushion that is your plush bottom lip. Bakugou finds himself staring there longer than he should and immediately tears his eyes away before he’s caught.

Your playful tone throws him off a beat later than he should’ve taken to reply. “Of course. I didn’t even want to be here to begin with,” he sneers with a brisk click of his tongue, crossing his arms. In a sense, he’s only telling half of the truth.

It’s true Bakugou did not desire to be here on his own accord. The squad dared to call him at the dead of midnight, when he was already tucked into bed by nine o’clock sharp and indulging in a needed rest, only to be ruefully awoken by his phone blaring across the expanse of his dorm room. The four should’ve suffered an earful from him as they tried to arrange a shopping trip of all things at that hour. However, his disinterest in the subject withered at the bait of your name casted into the conversation. Which to them was hook, line, and sinker. The cunning group of friends reeled him in at the idea that his crush would tag along. So, in the end, they got the rowdy blond to yield to the stupid shopping trip.

Though could it count as a shopping trip when four out of the six in their group were so transfixed by the weird vending machines in the place? The same four that organized said gathering to begin with? They’ve yet to cross into a single store here for crying out loud.

“If all you morons are gonna do is waste your damn money on these things, then this is a complete waste of time.” Bakugou doesn’t sugarcoat his irritation in the slightest. You still try to quell the bitterness in his tone with the saccharine that saturates your own.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, lighten up,” you tease playfully, pinching a small bit of the fabric on his arm to lightly urge him forward.

“You should at least try and join in on the fun with everyone—” At the turn of your head, your sentence cuts off, astonished to come across an empty space where your quartet of friends should be.

“And they’re already gone…” you say in disbelief. Your finger initially pointed in that direction falls limp. With their speedy curiosity plowing down the line of machines, the four have effectively ditched you two, leaving no trace of where they could’ve taken off for next.

The sigh from your lips lingers in amusement. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, Bakugou.”

When your eyes meet him again, you witness the scowl he glares at the abandoned space in front of the vending machine. The leer is menacing enough that if the contraption were an actual person, they might have rattled in fear, dropping down the snacks and drinks contained inside to sate his anger.

“Um, Bakugou?” you attempt to call out to him, but he’s too fixated by the peeved thoughts strewn in his head to hear you properly.

What the fuck are those dunces thinking? They planned this, didn’t they? God, I’m going to fucking kill them all! He babbles a seething torrent in his mind. Each one is more unrelenting and harsher than the last while a vein blisters prominently on his forehead.

What were the odds that going on a little shopping trip would end up with him left behind with his crush? Well, Bakugou thinks it’s absolutely none, and that this shit had to be preordained. If not, then it was just his bad fucking luck he supposes.

“—llo, earth to Bakugou Katsuki? Please send back a reply when you receive this message.”

At last, your voice surfaces, no longer drowned in Bakugou’s turbulent sea of thoughts as the hand you wave in front of him swims its way to his attention. “Huh?” He shakes his head twice to grip himself back to the matter at hand, observing in time the playful smile that curls mischievously on your lips.

“All back together I see. Good.” You start pulling on his arm and lead him in tandem with your steps. “Now let’s get going!”

Though he quirks up an eyebrow, Bakugou, weirdly enough, does not reject the way you drag him along without waiting for his response. In fact, with the other four gone, he finds it compelling that you’re taking the reins and asks mildly, “What? Are we gonna be doing some actual shopping now?”

His joke earns him your laughter resonating in melodic lilts to his ears before you leave his side to toss your empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Nope, we’re gonna be doing something even more fun, of course!” Then you resume dragging Bakugou down the walkways of the mall.

It’s not long until he questions the consecutive twists and turns he’s forced to take, having only been answered by your pursed grin multiple times.

“Hey, no more questions! Just trust me!” you quip at his refusal to be quiet and just obediently follow. The blonde can’t help it, of course, given the circumstances he’s wound himself in. Not many boys his age can control themselves if the person they like is pulling them along with as much enthusiasm as you are right now. But Bakugou is different from those other simpletons, crafting a mask to cover the elation hidden beneath with usual displeasure. Nothing but his uncharacteristic lack of annoyance and the ample glances in your direction could truly give himself away to his affections for you.

So with that, he places a generous amount of hope that you guide him somewhere more entertaining than that borefest he witnessed from the squad earlier.

But the moment you two reach your destination, he wonders if he may have accidentally misplaced that same hope down a rabbit hole instead.

“What the…” Bakugou’s words drift in the air at the quizzical sight before him. Mouth hanging open, he’s unable to conjure any sensible thoughts in time before you step in front of him.

“Tada! The Capsule Toy Gacha Room!” You spread your hands outward to present him an unhindered view of the room. It’s teeming with small capsule toy machines that line the walls, stacked on top of each other not to waste a single space inside. His red eyes squint at the assortment of bright colors painted on each machine that assaults his vision.

“Why the hell are there so many of these things?” Bakugou asks, jabbing a finger at the machines. You reply as you walk inside, “It’s the Gacha Room, Bakugou. Of course this place is gonna be filled with them.” You impart him an answer he is not at all satisfied with.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid! Glad it hasn’t really changed,” you say, noting the only real difference between then and now were the new toys and characters updated with the current trends. He begrudgingly trails behind you into the narrow corridors sandwiched with the machines on each side. The modest little tune you hum between your lips is a stark contrast to his disgruntled huffs accompanying his dragging feet.

Bakugou thinks being here is not any different from what the other four are frolicking about outside. This might be the worse alternative, considering you give money to a machine that grants you an item at complete random. You have no way of knowing what or who you’re going to get until the colorful sphere pops out at the bottom. And then, in an instance, your anticipation fades away when you open it and receive the character no one particularly cares about—the little charm inevitably gathering dust, forgotten in the drawers of your desk. Overall, these toy capsule machines were just gluttons devouring the money of parents whose kids always whine about never getting what they wanted.

Still, because it’s you, he stays and watches you indulge in your little nostalgia trip.

As your eyes glide down the row of toy dispensers, trying your best to decipher the items contained behind the blurry glass, you chime in, “Say, Bakugou, don’t you have any memories of gacha machines?”

Bakugou’s brows furrow in contemplation. He racks through the nooks and crannies between the crevices of his mind and recalls some standout memories. “I guess. Few of ’em were stuck in front of the arcade place near my neighborhood,” he answers, but those memories immediately begin to sour the more he looks into the details.

You don’t see how his face slowly contorts with annoyance while he plays back a scene in his head.

At the time, Bakugou had only sprouted to the young age of five years old. He’s huddled around his posse in front of the arcade he mentioned, slotting a coin inside the capsule machine that was stocked full of charms of Pro Heroes, which housed a very special limited edition prize of All Might to honor their collaboration with the famous Number One of Japan.

The boy was positively giddy at what was to come out, remaining hopeful thanks to the giant poster of All Might gazing down upon him with his triumphant grin. Yet even when his squeaky little voice hollered out a “Plus Ultra!” to reinforce his luck, he was given dirt in response.

But you know who did get that mystery All Might prize?

Deku. Fucking Deku.

Right after he had his spin of the machine, the green-haired boy stepped up, gave it a go, and got All Might on his first fucking try. To say five-year-old Bakugou was bitter would only be putting it mildly. The unbridled emotions bundled in his tiny body were just waiting to burst in an explosion.

But in the end, did he fight Midoriya for it? No, he did not. For if he did, his mother would have scolded the hell out of him, and his young self reflected in the moment that avoiding parental wrath outweighed the limited edition Mystery All Might figure charm, as sad as that sounded. So since then, he’s tried to repress that memory in the far corners of his mind.

But it seems God just desires to spite him.

“Hey, look!” You pull lightly on his shirt to capture his attention, eyes trained forward at whatever piqued your interest. Bakugou peeks over your head, and what he’s met with does not please him.

“They have a gacha machine featuring Pro Heroes here!” you shout cheerfully, walking toward it with the hem of Bakugou’s shirt in hand, who begrudgingly follows along despite a groan nearly leaving his mouth.

“Isn’t this cool?” you ask. You squat down to peer into the peculiar machine located at the very bottom of the stack. Bakugou clicks his tongue as part of his reply, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers.

“No.”

“Hey, one day they’ll be making toys and charms of you as well, Mister ‘I’m Gonna Be The Number One Hero,’” you say with a giggle, and your comment sparks a bit of pink to dust his cheeks while he looks down at you from his standing position.

He attempts to join you and your fixation on the Pro Hero capsule machine. However, when he starts bending his knees, he finds this to be a bit difficult. The more he squats down, the more Bakugou realizes they truly made this place for children and not bulky teenagers like him training in hero school. His knees and bottoms almost brush up against the plastic sheen of the machines on each opposing side.

Though he has to fidget into a particular position to get somewhat comfortable, he eventually gets there and kneels next to you.

“Why don’t we give a go at this thing?” you suggest, and he tilts his head, eyes narrowed.

“No way, these are a fucking waste of money,” he rejects.

“Hey it only costs two hundred yen!” you counter, “And plus, you might get a certain hero you want, like say... All Might?” You attempt to lure him in using his idol’s very name, but Bakugou doesn’t take the bait so easily and remains rigid in his stance.

Even if he did want to try for All Might, he’s sure his capsule is long gone by now anyway.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, pleaseee?” you draw out your pleas in a cute little tone that takes the blond by complete surprise. Unaware of how much power you have over him, the doe eyes and pout that paint your features make it difficult for him to maintain his hardened facade. Feeling his walls begin to melt away at the endearing sight, he ultimately grits his teeth, eyes shut as his hands rummage down into his pockets.

“Fine,” he mutters in defeat, and that smile appears on your lips once again as you lift your arms in triumph.

Pulling out two separate hundred yen coins, he promptly slides them both into the coin silt. When he hears them clank against the other change inside, he goes for the handle and gives it a quick turn. One of the capsule balls begins its journey down the machine and quickly arrives at the hatch that Bakugou lifts to retrieve his prize.

Snapping the capsule open, he’s met with Endeavor’s ugly mug, seeming even more unsightly from the low-quality production of the charm. The paint job is beyond sloppy, with the colors on the costume not depicted accurately and the figure’s pupils drawn to make him appear cross-eyed.

“Hm, you got the number one hero,” you tease, lightheartedly nudging your elbow at his sides because you know full well it isn’t the number one hero he wanted. Bakugou ignores your taunts and shoves the flame hero’s plastic face down the depths of his pockets, making sure to give it to Todoroki later just to annoy him.

“Yeah yeah, your turn, princess.” He scooches a bit to his right to let you have your go. You gladly follow, taking out the two hundred yen from your money pouch.

Bakugou remains disinterested throughout the entire process but is still attentive enough to observe how you hum those casual tunes of yours despite doing something so mundane. He also starts absorbing the cute shape of your nose and the outline of your lips from this angle. It isn’t long until he realizes how close you are in this position, to the point where he could practically smell your fragrant scent, and soon that pink hue diffuses on his face again.

Fuck, I need to stop that, he urges.

By the time he turns away, the capsule machine has begun its machinations once again.

The sizable sphere descending the hatch this time has striped patterns of red, yellow, and blue, colors that remind him all too much of a certain Pro Hero— Wait. What the fuck—

“This one looks a bit bigger than the others, don’t you think? Wonder what... Oh, hey, it’s All Might!” You go through the emotions—curiosity, anticipation, and then finally, glee.

Bakugou feels like he’s reliving those horrible memories once again as he beholds the shiny, miniature figure nestling in your palms before you lift it to grant a better view of its glory. It twists around from how you pinch it by the attached string while it’s hovering in the air. When the Pro Hero’s face turns in the blond’s direction, it’s like the inanimate object is somehow taunting him.

Compared to Endeavor’s shitty charm, All Might’s is a proper representation of who he is. The better quality plastic molded accurately into the man’s figure, the crevices between his muscles delved into displaying his well-defined physique. The colors on his costume are all correctly painted in his signature red, white, yellow, and blue. They even got the broad grin and shadowy features on his face to the tee.

Whichever company created this toy indeed did All Might justice because it looks exactly like the one Midoriya unsealed right in front of his envious five-year-old eyes.

Bakugou’s body shakes with suppressed anger. His hands clench and then unclench themselves while in conflict with his thoughts. Then, he suddenly moves toward you, darting for the charm that you narrowly pull out from his grapples in time.

“L-Lemme see!” he demands, shifting his hand around to grab hold of it for some reason. The act has you befuddled while you continue to move the toy away to evade capture.

“Huh? Why?”

“I need... to fucking make sure— OOF—”

His sputters are the last things that escape his lips before he staggers off balance due to all those hasty movements. It sends his body toppling over yours onto the floor, where your head would’ve thumped against the hard ground had the boy’s well-trained instincts not maneuvered a hand beneath it in time to cushion your fall.

Your descent to the floor is not at all graceful, wincing slightly at the impact. It’s when the pain ebbs away that you and Bakugou finally realize the very awkward position you’re suddenly both in.

Bakugou is hovering over you, body between your legs as one of his hands is cradling your head. The other is situated next to your face against the ground to keep himself upright, letting his eyes stare down at your stricken expression.

Unknowingly, you had settled your hand on Bakugou’s shoulder out of impulse during fall. The other one is still grasping the All Might figure, which is unharmed despite the abrupt movements.

Bakugou can feel your even breaths caress his lips from how close in proximity both of your faces are in this position. If any of you so much as move the wrong way, your lips would undoubtedly collide into each other. Though Bakugou doesn’t mind the notion, he isn’t going to instigate it if you aren’t willing. But the way your eyes line toward his lips, giving him a similar enamored look to the one he has right now, it seems both of you are on the same page.

Taking your mutual fixations as the sign to continue, Bakugou draws himself forward to close the distance while you rise to meet him in the middle.

And finally, he gets to kiss those lips of yours. The lips that adorn your cute face he always snuck glances at. The lips so unhinged in their playful teasing toward him. The lips he’s been so mesmerized and bewitched by throughout this chaotic excuse of a shopping trip.

And when they meet, they’re as full and soft as he imagined them to be, melding perfectly against his.

The hand he’s nestled under your head allows him to press you further into the liplock. You’re nearly enveloped in his wistful machinations, wanting to drown in the sea of his affections as your arms find their way around him.

You would’ve allowed yourself to do so, if not for the unfortunate security camera you catch in the corner of your eye from where you laid.

Your eyes widen, staggering out of their half-liddedness. You pat your hand in rapid succession against his shoulder, getting the blond to stir and separate from the kiss—an act he detests as he doesn’t want the embrace to end.

“What?” he gruffs. You point up at the ceiling, and he turns in that direction. When he detects the security camera about to automatically shift toward this particular side of the Capsule Toy Gacha Room, his face grows full of panic. He lifts himself off your body immediately.

With the two of you remembering where you are, you rose from the ground and cleaned yourselves up. You try to appear pristine as possible, without letting any suspicion about what has happened get tossed in your direction. Still, the red faces plastering both of your features are already a dead giveaway.

“I… Uh…” Bakugou’s still lost in the haze of the heated moment, unsure of what words he should utter. Much to his relief, his burden lifts when two notifications from your phones ring in sync together, diverting your attention.

When you open your phone and slide across the notice, a text message from the Bakusquad ascends onto the screen.

Mina: heyyyy just finished going through all these vending machines! you wont believe how much money we spent!!

The message follows a selfie of the four holding a myriad of drinks and snacks together in the picture. You can’t suppress your giggle at the endearing sight. Another chime sounds when a new text pops up at the bottom.

Eijirou: let’s all meet up again at that blue mystery vending machine!

“Well, you heard them,” you say while clicking off your phone, “we better get a move on.”

Bakugou relays your words back in a slow nod, following through with a rough “yeah” that cleaves his throat. The two of you walk alongside each other once again while you leave the Capsule Toy Gacha Room. Only your steps padding against the mall’s confounds accompany the quiet atmosphere established between you two—awkward and a bit unnerving.

It’s when you’ve both made it to the meet-up spot in front of the blue vending machine that you alleviate yourselves of the strained tension.

“Soooo… was there any reason you wanted to get your hand on this thing so badly?” you question, drawing out the All Might charm that led those heated events to transpire. It dangles between your fingertips and glances at Bakugou along every rotation. The blonde bounces his eyes between you, All Might, and the ground, unsure if he should admit that he was acting out of childish jealousy and bitterness.

“I… Urgh… Fuck…”

You raise an eyebrow when he fumbles with his words. He mutters blatant obscenities between every possible resolve that crosses his mind.

“Look, forget it. It’s not important,” Bakugou concludes, but you think differently, not satisfied with his answer.

“No. Tell me.”

With that weight in your tone, Bakugou realizes he can’t avoid the subject any longer. He releases a long sigh as he leads you through the infamous tale, observing how your expression grows from concerned to downright amused.

“Really? You’ve held a grudge for that long?” The laughter you initially attempt to suppress ends up bubbling from your throat. Hearing it spurs Bakugou to clutch his hands together into shaky fists.

“Look. If you know me, then you should remember I never want to lose to fucking Deku. The fact he got the All Might charm right after I got garbage fucking pissed me off!” he exclaims loud enough for his harsh words to reach a couple walking by. They spare worried glances at the blonde when they stroll past him.

“Hmm…” you muse in thought. Bakugou can tell by the glint rising in your eyes and your tone that you’re up to something again. “I can give you mine if you want. But only for a very small price.”

He quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what would that fucking price be?”

The smirk prominent on your pretty lips widens while you teeter your weight to your tippy-toes in front of him.

“A date. Just a single date will suffice,” you tell him, and Bakugou’s caught off guard by how simple the offer is. His delayed response has you leaning forward, appraising him for an answer.

“Well..?” You wave the charm before his eyes by the thin string as if to hypnotize him. But in all honesty, Bakugou knows that sweet smile of yours and luster in your eyes is all you need to have him wrapped around your finger.

His playful smirk surfaces his lips. He provides his answer by snatching the figure right from your dainty fingertips.

“You got yourself a deal, princess.”

You happily clap your hands together. “It’s settled then! We’ll have a date here at the mall next week!”

“Hah?! Why the fucking mall again?!”

“Because we didn’t do much here anyway, so I say we should give it another shot together next week!”

“What? And go shopping? I don’t wanna be your bellboy the entire time—”

“Mom! Mom! Look at that boy’s All Might toy!”

You and Bakugou are both surprised by the new, high-pitched voice that enters in the middle of your riffraff. Your eyes trail along to sound and come face-to-face with a young boy staring at the toy in Bakugou’s hand.

“I want one too!”

Unable to control his gloating, Bakugou dangles the charm next to his face.

“Yeah well, too bad, kid. It’s mine so f—”

“Bakugou,” you warn. You halt the obscene words from entering the boy’s ears and avoid giving his mom a hard time.

“Argh… I mean... scram!”

You almost smack yourself. You can’t believe Bakugou has the guile to argue with a child at this age.

Though he forgoes the curses, that doesn’t make Bakugou’s words sound any less harsh. As a result, the kid pouts. He pouts hard. His eyes start to become glassy, lining the edge of his lashes with droplets. Recognizing her child on the verge of breaking out into tears, the mom acts quickly. She’s by his side, patting his back.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go to that blue vending machine over there and see if you can get a toy too,” she cheers him up instantly, dropping a hundred yen coin down her son’s small palm.

“Okay, mom!” he responds, gleeful again.

He dawdles over to the machine with purpose in his steps, inserting the coin, and pressing the lone button on the mystery vending machine.

You and Bakugou don’t perceive any noise emitting from the machine, and yet the little boy is putting his hands into the slot to pull something out.

“Mom, why did the machine give me a paper that says PS5?”

Both of you go rigid. Kaminari is not going to be happy hearing about this.

[juniorgman187]

Sleight of Hand (Reid Fic)

Summary: Practical Joker Reader makes the unsuspecting naive Dr. Reid the object of her most recent prank - stealing his ID badge.  Category: Pure Fluff, Drabble, One Shot Pairing: Platonic Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Super brief mentioning of dark nature of job, prank Word Count: 2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Despite what anyone else may believe, or what my resting face may convey, I’m not a mean person. I don’t take pleasure in people’s pain, and I certainly don’t intend to hurt anyone.  

With that being said - I do thoroughly enjoy messing with people from time to time. Which, in my opinion, is a completely different thing than being mean. 

At work, I’m known for pulling harmless pranks. Keyword: harmless. The dark nature that surrounds our job can consume us whole if we let it, and if anyone needs a good laugh here and there, it’s the BAU. Sometimes we all just need reminders that life shouldn’t be taken so seriously, and my silly antics are just the remedy. 

A window of opportunity for my most recent practical joke presented itself when I was packing up to leave for the day. 

Right across my desk was Reid’s and to my right was Derek’s, but at the moment, Reid was parked at the kitchenette, diligently stirring his coffee and copious amounts of sugar packets together while Derek’s head was buried six feet deep in paperwork. I could tell they would both be in for a long night and I didn’t envy them for that. 

“Alright, I’m out!” I announced to them both, but before I could actually get far, Derek stopped me. 

“Wait, (y/n)! Hold up,” He sat up from his chair to reach me with an outstretched arm. “Can you put this back on Reid’s desk?” 

I blinked hard when he tossed an object at me, so only after I caught it did I open my eyes and realize it was just a pen. 

“Wow. Lazy much?” I scoffed, gesturing to Reid’s desk that was less than seven feet away. Derek was probably exerting more effort into stretching out his arm like that to give me the pen as opposed to if he just got off his butt and walked to the desk himself.

“Pleaseee,” He partially begged, causing me to roll my eyes and replace the pen dutifully. As I slipped the pen into its rightful spot in his little cup of writing utensils, something caught my eye.

Lightbulb!

Just sitting there on Spencer’s desk was his badge. It was so carelessly placed in comparison to everything else on the table that had been situated in such a carefully, almost calculated, manner.

I knew Spencer had a habit of taking it off at the end of the day, but it baffled me just how flippantly he treated it. I figured he coveted his badge, but his haphazard placement of it suggested otherwise, while simultaneously showing his humanity to me. He wasn’t so cookie-cutter perfect after all, he could be messy, too.

It was that epiphany that almost made me not want to tamper with it, but it was my own humor that pushed me to do it anyway. 

Maybe it’s time Spencer learned a lesson, rather than being the one to teach it. 

If he was going to just let this thing lie around like it was nothing, then how would he react if it wasn’t there at all? 

I slyly looked up from the badge and to Spencer, whose back was still turned to me in the kitchen and then to Derek, who was too focused on his work to even notice that I was still here. Fully taking advantage of Spencer’s oblivion and the lack of a witness in Derek, I slipped the ID swiftly into my purse. Even if Derek wasn’t the type to be a snitch, it was better that absolutely no one knew.

Less than a millisecond after successfully concealing the badge within my bag, Spencer finally turned around and saw me lingering by his desk.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked with the slightest bit of suspicion in his voice. There was no way he could’ve known what’d I’d just done unless he had eyes at the back of his head, so I stayed calm and collected, relishing in my guaranteed safety.

“Derek wanted me to return your pen,” I explained casually from across the bullpen. I watched as Spencer strolled unhurriedly towards me, and it might’ve been my paranoia that led me to this belief, but I swore I saw his eyes dart to his desk momentarily. However, if he had noticed the absence of his badge, he didn’t say anything. 

“Oh, thanks! Have a good night.” He smiled and waved back to me, showing no indication of mistrust. 

Sucker. 

“You, too!” I said with more zeal than the situation warranted. I was worried that might’ve given me away, but I had timed my escape so perfectly that I was already in the elevator by the time he returned to his desk, giving him no chance to inquire about my uncharacteristic behavior. 

That was a close one. 

When I came in the next morning, Spencer wasn’t there yet. Which was slightly strange given the fact that I was barely on time, so if he came in at any point after my own arrival, Spencer would be considered late for work. Occurrences like that only happen once in a blue moon, and usually, the reason for them are mysterious haircuts or something’s wrong. I hoped for his sake it was the former. 

Now you might consider me an impeccable troublemaker, but I’d first and foremost be rendered outstandingly forgetful. I say this only because I had completely forgotten that I stole Spencer’s badge the night before. But can you blame me? It was stashed away in my purse, hidden to my immediate sight, and the object was so small that it didn’t stick out to me or add an excess of weight in my bag that would serve as an unintentional reminder. It never once crossed my mind, not even when I looked to Derek to ask, “Where’s Reid?”

With a coffee mug in one hand, Derek put his arms out to either side of him and shrugged. Suddenly, the mug precariously shook from the draft created by someone blowing right by him. 

It was Reid.

“Whoa, slow your roll there, Pretty Boy. Almost knocked my coffee over.” Derek reprimanded playfully, clutching on tighter to his precious coffee that almost succumbed to Spencer’s speed when he breezed by.

But rather than apologizing or laughing, Spencer kept on his pursuit. Since the time he got here, his eyes were glued to his desk with determination. Even as he approached his desk, he hadn’t yet acknowledged me or Derek. Instead, he was mumbling to himself while haphazardly sorting through his desk. He was frantic and in disarray, a manner that worried both me and Derek.

“What’s wrong, Reid?” I leaned forward to observe his desk, which by now, was what I had to think was a direct reflection of his brain - completely chaotic. Papers were scattered, books were open to random pages, he even emptied out his well-maintained writing utensil cup. 

“I lost my badge.” He answered with his attention still trained on finding it. Luckily for me, that meant he couldn’t see the sudden smirk that grew on my face as a result of his response. There was no way to hide my entertainment without biting down on my lip to keep it from contorting into a smile or perching my head on my hand and using my knuckles to hide my devilish grin. 

“When’s the last time you had it?” Derek was surprisingly just as concerned as Reid and just as eager to help him find it, even setting down his coffee on his own desk to help Reid sort through his. 

“I always take it off at the end of the day, and I remember setting it on my desk, but I didn’t take it home with me. I don’t recall even leaving here with it, so I must’ve left it somewhere here.” 

At this point, my unbridled enjoyment of this was too much to physically contain, that I actually had to spin my chair a complete 180 degrees just to shield them from the sight of my imminent laughter. 

“(Y/n), do you remember seeing it -” Derek’s voice overpowered my muffled giggles, and when he looked up to ask me that, he would’ve seen my shuddering shoulders from where I was laughing hard, yet noiselessly. I spun my chair back around and looked at him with cool indifference. 

He quickly noted the shade of red I had turned and profiled the situation. But rather than outing me, he followed the instruction of my index finger to my lips and stayed quiet. 

I took his alliance as an opportunity to nonchalantly retrieve the badge from my purse. At a tantalizingly slow pace, I raised it in the air, until it was so high, Reid would be able to see it dangling from my thumb and forefinger. 

“Looking for this?” 

Spencer’s gaze immediately shot upward to look right at the badge, before flashing to me. 

What part of him reacted first, I wasn’t sure. Was it the sigh of relief or the flared nostrils and clenched jaw that came soon after? 

He wasn’t even going to say anything to me before grabbing it from me, that’s how pissed he was. But my quick reflexes lunged me backward at the same moment he reached out to get his badge from me, preventing him from successfully taking it back. I couldn’t believe he actually tried that and thought it would work. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” I wagged my finger left to right to communicate my disapproval. “Not so fast, Pretty Boy. I want something in return.”

He shot me the most deadpan glare. “What do you want?” 

I put my finger to my chin and looked up to coyly think about it, but more so to extend his torture for just a few seconds longer. I could feel him staring a hole into me as he grew more and more impatient. “Well, it’s gotta be something good. I mean, imagine what would’ve happened if this landed in the wrong hands.” 

“Evidently, it did.” He coldly replied. 

“Ouch,” I feigned offense and brought my hand to my chest to clutch my heart with a short gasp. “I’m so hurt,” I said with the biggest pout.

He was not nearly as entertained as I was, and his lack of amusement came in the form of a stoic, “I’ll teach you sleight of hand.” 

My body actually had to reboot at the sound of his proposal. “Wait, are you serious?” I clarified. 

“Yes. It physically pains me every time I watch you try to do it, so I figure it’s better for me if I teach you how to do it properly instead of having to sit through another one of your lousy, pathetic magic tricks.”

I would’ve been offended, but I’d been begging him to teach me sleight of hand for months, so the insults were quickly disregarded by me in case he changed his mind during the time I’d take up being hurt by his cruelty.  

“Deal,” I smirked while handing him his badge back. 

Needless to say, I did teach the good doctor a lesson, but it seems he still hasn’t learned … for why would you teach the biggest practical joker in the office sleight of hand? That only adds to my arsenal of tricks I have up my sleeve to use against my coworkers.

Maybe I should teach Spencer another lesson and see if he learns this time around.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722​ @spencersmagic​ @spencerreid-mgg​ @half-blood-dork​ @goldeng1rl8​ @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms​ 

[violetsoju]

let’s go on a ride (where to)彡★

suna rintaro · fluff? · 3.1k

a/n: here’s a cookie for you if you can guess correctly from which song i got inspired by 🍪 (hint: it’s from a female soloist!) do let me know if you enjoyed it!  ❤️

The first time you got on his bike was when you were late for your finals. Being the ironically procrastinator and overachiever you are, you dunked 3 cups of coffee the previous night in attempt to stay up drilling pages and pages of chemical processes and reactions, along with the insane number of structures and behaviours of molecules that seemed to stretch on forever into your poor cramped brain. So when you woke up to your clock staring at you with its long hand 20 minutes away from the scheduled time of your doom, you knew you were indeed, doomed. Your shouts and failing hands to the bus driver fell on deaf ears, leaving you gasping for air, hands on your knees as you reached the now empty bus stop.

You were about to make a run for it when a motorbike pulled up beside you, a male voice catching your attention. “Hey.”

You turned to see fox-like eyes staring back at you, one which had you intrigued since the first encounter. Even though his other features were hidden beneath his helmet, the boy clad in black on the bike was undoubtedly, your next-door neighbour.

“Get on my bike, let’s go.” he said, throwing a helmet in your direction.      

Despite living right next door, the both of you never had a conversation with each other. You don’t really see each other too, in your defence. Normal greetings would just be a small nod of acknowledgement, sometimes with a small ‘hi’ if you were feeling sociable enough.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

“Where to?” he asked, as you climbed onto the back seat.

“Hyogo University, please.” You grabbed on the rail bar behind, praying that you won’t somehow fall off.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you missed the bus, because weaving through unusual heavy traffic on two wheels was definitely more efficient than being stuck on four wheels. You yelped as you almost lost your balance from the zigzag drive, instinctively grabbing hold of his waist as you both zoomed past the congested roads.

Never in your life had you been so happy and relieved at the sight of your university. Jumping off the bike, you were about to sprint to your faculty when you stopped midway at your tracks at his call.

“Hey! My helmet!”

Turning back meant risking having the examination doors being slammed in your face. “I’ll return it to you later!” you shouted, waving the back of your hand towards him as you dashed to your examination venue.

Later that night, the boy found the sides of his lips tugging upwards slightly, huffing a breath from his nose in amusement at the sight of his helmet hanging on doorknob of his apartment. It was filled with packets of choco pie and a small yellow note in it.

「 Thank you so much for today! I got to my examination venue right on time thanks to you. Please let me know when you’re free. I’d like to treat you to a meal as a gesture of appreciation, these treats obviously aren’t enough.

-Your next-door neighbour 」

He opened a packet of choco pie and folded the small piece of paper neatly into the pocket of his jeans, making his way into his apartment.

Your eyebrows arched in surprise when you locked your front door the next morning. There was a small green note stuck on your door, along with a box of chocolate koala march biscuits secured tightly with tape.

「 It’s not a big deal. Now we’re even, so save that for something else. 」

                                     ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 The second time you got on his bike was on the way home from your job interview. You knew your heels were to go, and you should have gotten a new pair soon. But being the last-minute shit you were, you prayed with all your heart for it to survive on you till the end of the day.

Well, to be fair, it did cooperate with you for most of the day, besides than the awful blisters on the back of your heel and toes. It only gave up on you after the interview that went wrong (allocated interview slot being postponed and postponed, the central air-conditioning blasting like the North Pole, and what was it with companies and their ridiculous prejudice towards young women and maternity leaves), when your right heel got stuck in a sewage drain cover, snapping into half when you used too much force to get it out.

Then it rained. And of course, you left your umbrella at home as there were no indications of rain when you checked the weather forecast. Maybe the rain felt like giving the sun, along with the weather bureau, a surprise that day.

And maybe it felt like it had its fair share of fun after seeing your miserable state, drenched in its merry little splatter and your own infuriation, as it bid the sun goodbye and went back home once you got off the bus to your neighbourhood.

So here you were, walking barefoot on the scorching yet damp concrete pavement back home, adding more damage to your open wounds. Well, what other choice did you have? It’s not like you would break the other heel into half to balance it out, right?

The stares and hushed whispers around you couldn’t much compare to what was going through your mind now. Heck, you couldn’t even care less of how you looked. Smudged makeup and faint colour of your innerwear peeping beneath your now see-through white blouse were the least of your worries now. All you wanted was to get home, fill the tub with warm water, turn on some music, and let all the frustration built up in you sink away through the evening.

Walking around the last block of shops, you kept your eyes on the pavement, not noticing a familiar figure leaning against the wall a few shops ahead.

“Hey.”

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, you didn’t realise a human wall up ahead.

“Hey!”

You winced at the sudden impact from the body slam, snapping up to find a boy around your age towering over you, alluring fox eyes meeting yours. “Sorry,” you muttered, stepping aside to continue on your way.

A warm hand grabbed hold of your arm, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden touch. He had his head tilted slightly to his left, his usual blank face staring back at you. But the hint of concern that subtly flickered in his eyes as he silently inspected you from head to toe made you stop in your tracks.

Maybe it was the series of incidents that happened throughout the day that had your mind spiraling in turbulent directions, or maybe it was the delicate warmth in his eyes that seemed so inviting, it wasn’t a bad idea to linger in it for a while. Whatever the reasons were, he was granted the rare permission to take a small peek through the faint cracks of your hardened shell, into the dark fiery void that held you hostage.

You kept your eyes glued on the ground as he kept his gaze on you, curling your bruised toes together against the hard concrete, contemplating if you made the right decision.  

Once he was done with his inspection, he moved towards his bike parked by the side of the pavement, grip still on your arm, and dug out for an extra helmet underneath the seat of his bike. He placed the helmet over your head, featherlike fingers brushing against your skin as he secured the straps around your chin gently.

“Get on, let’s get home.” he said, tapping the top of the helmet as if he was patting a little girl’s head.

The journey home was silent, in a comfortable way, and you were grateful that he kept his curiosity to himself.

He dropped you off at the lobby entrance of your apartment, nodding in acknowledgement as you returned the helmet while mumbling an audible thanks. You should’ve waited for him to take the elevator back up to your floor together, but you were just so bloody done for the day. At least you pressed the ground floor button as you exited the elevator.

                                         ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 The third time you got on his bike was after dinner one night. You were at the nearby convenience store in your pjs, a bowl of hot oden in hand, staring out at the night through the glass window. Late night convenience store runs were the best, because most people would be snuggled up in their homes, leaving the world to those like you to enjoy in peace in quiet.

You were on your third fish cake skewer when an unexpected presence made its way next to you. Gleaming hazel eyes locked with yours, and you found yourself unconsciously lost in it again.

He placed a plastic bag filled with an assortment of jelly fruit sticks on the table, savouring a purple coloured one in hand. You chuckled at this new side of him. This wasn’t quite something you pictured him to be.

He turned to you questionably. “Is there a problem?”

You shook your head. “Not at all, I’m just surprised with this new information.” You offered a fish cake skewer to him.

He gave you a green coloured jelly fruit stick in return. “There’s no age limit for these, are there?”

“Nope, you’re more than welcome to enjoy them,” You peered at the plastic bag. “Can I have the red one instead?”

“Picky.” he jokingly huffed.

The both of you enjoyed the rest of the night by the windowsill, making comfortable small talk here and there.

It was past midnight when you both made your way out of the convenience store. “Do you usually walk back alone at this time?” he asked, rummaging his pocket for his bike keys.

“Yeah, but not to worry, I can protect myself quite well. Ain’t no damsel in distress.” You jiggled your self-defense kit attached to your house keys at him.

He hummed in agreement, handing you a helmet. “My younger sister has a set of that too. That pepper spray is no joke.”

“What did you do to piss her off?” You fastened on the helmet strap nimbly, climbing onto the now familiar backseat.

“I was her guinea pig to test if it worked. And damn it worked well. 5-star rating.” The bike engine roared, muffling your laughs and off the both of you went in the night.

You furrowed your brows when he drove past by the turn to your apartment. “Hey, you missed the turn!”

“Buckle up, we’re going on an adventure.”

Apparently, his so-called adventure was to the neighbourhood hilltop which you had never dragged your lazy ass up to hike before. There wasn’t much to see in the dark surroundings, maybe it would be better in the day.

“For a moment I thought you were gonna abduct me or something.”

“By a guy that eats jelly fruit sticks at this age? Plus, you’re not even worth a bag of jelly fruit sticks.”

He fake coughed as you shoved the helmet in his chest playfully in retaliation.  

The hilltop wasn’t that high, but high enough to overlook the charming neighbourhood below. Looking at your neighbourhood from a different perspective made you appreciate it more. The quaint coffeeshops, the now quiet primary school, the lush recreational park, they all looked so small from the top. So this is what birds see from the top, you thought.

Placing your hands on the wooden fencing, you closed your eyes for a moment to enjoy the cool breeze caressing your face, taking in a long, deep breath. Even the air up here was clearer.

You turned behind to find him lying on the grass with one knee up, arms folded behind his head, eyes on the black canvas above. You took your place comfortably next to him, mimicking his actions. A soft gasp escaped your lips, taken aback by the view displayed before you.  

Maybe it was the cold reality and gradual maturity along with age that had your mind conditioned to thinking only the glowing lights of the city lit up the dark night skies. Long had you forgotten the existence of the scattered diamonds shining up above; one that lit up the skies and your eyes as a child, one you dreamt of picking from the sky to replace the plastic fluorescent ones on the celling of your nostalgic childhood room.

It was simple pleasures like this that kept boundless curiosity and imagination run wild, that made each day enjoyable and fun, that made one realise how beautiful life could be.

And to remind one how important it is to live in the present.

“Do you know how to identify constellations?”

“I only know the name of my zodiac sign, if that counts.”

“No.”

You chuckled at the small pout that formed on his lips.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing how people in the olden days could navigate their way with just a few blinking dots in the night sky? I don’t even know how to use a compass.”

“That’s why we have Google maps now.”

“Can you be a lil bit more enthusiastic?”

“You can’t deny that what I said is true, can you?”

It was his turn to chuckle at your exasperated sigh.

“Have you seen a meteor shower before?”

“Yeah, once I think.”

“Did you make a wish?”

“I guess so.”

“Has the universe granted your wish then?”

“A secret shall remain a secret.”

You hummed in response.

Truth to be told, the both of you were keeping secrets from each other: your identities. Sure, you both knew each other as next-door neighbours, but what else?

Perhaps he has the upper hand here. He knows you’re a university student from the first ride on his bike, he (somehow) knows you’re searching for a job from the second ride, and now he knows your little late night konbini run affair. All you know about him is that he rides a bike and likes jelly fruit sticks.

But you don’t mind. In fact, you like this anonymity. It’s what makes the relationship between the two of you more engaging, precious and real. You could let down your guard with him. No judgements, no defensive barriers, no facades.

Sure, you would be curious about his background at times. Is he the same age as you? Is he a fellow struggling university student like you? Or has he plunged into the battlefield called work already? But if you could be you wholeheartedly, and he could be him wholeheartedly too, that’s what matters the most at the moment.

“Are you certain that you made your wish correctly?”

“Are there procedures for making wishes upon shooting stars?”

“Duh. You gotta look up to the night sky, close your eyes, clasp your hands together, then make your wish. That’s how it works.”

“You could shake hands with my younger sister and be sappy drama sisters.”

“Maybe that’s why your wish hasn’t come true yet.”

“I’m not falling for your trap.”

                                       ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 “Man, I can’t believe nothing came out from what I studied for the whole week. Nothing. My feelings have been cheated on.”

Atsumu and you were currently slumped over the table at the convenience store next to the university, each with a hotdog in hand, along with an array of snacks scattered across the table. The both of you had just finished your classes for the day, and instead of grabbing proper dinner, you both were stuffing yourselves with junk food like children.

As to quote Atsumu, “Where’s the joy in life in blindly following the rules? Rules were meant to be broken. And it’s not like we do it every day.”

“Giving up so quickly? What happened to the ‘new semester new me resolution’, huh.”

Atsumu slammed his face on the table, groaning in distress. “Everything’s a scam. Life is a scam.”

You huffed out a small laugh at his exaggeration, eyes riveting back to the bustling street outside the window. Groups of students making their way to the bus and train station, couples choosing their dinner place hand-in-hand after work, a line forming outside the newly opened sushi place that served sushi on a mini bullet train. A typical Thursday evening.

A familiar jet-black bike among the line of bikes lined up by the pavement in front of the convenience store caught your sight. Oh?

Your mouth must’ve worked faster than your brain as Atsumu looked up to face the same direction you were looking at. “What yer looking at?”

“Oh, Suna must be around here somewhere. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Suna, huh. Nice name.

“That’s one sexy looking bike, isn’t it? I always wanted a ride, but dude always speeds off even before I have the chance. Treats it like his wife. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone one ride it besides him.”

“Poor you, it’s a really nice ride.”

“The engine sounds amazing too- Wait. Wait a hot second. You rode it before? How? You know Suna?” Atsumu’s energy switch was turned back on, eyes wide like saucers as you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He’s my next-door neighbour, duh.” Atsumu swore he was so close to throwing hands at your nonchalant attitude on the matter.

“Speaking of the devil, there he is.”

Suna emerged from the bakery on the opposite street, a bag of freshly baked goods in hand. Crossing the busy road to your side of the street, a glint of surprise gleamed in his eyes at the sight of both of you through the window, mostly from the shock and betrayal expression of the blond. He nodded to Atsumu in greeting, which was replied with Atsumu barking questions at him from the inside.

“What the hell, Suna? We’ve been friends for so long and I’ve never had a ride before, and she gets a ride? Really, Suna? I thought we’re more than this-”

“You know he can’t hear you from outside, right?” Atsumu paused to stare at you for a moment, and continued shooting questions and making dramatic gestures to the boy grinning slyly at him outside.

Suna turned his eyes to you, tipping his head towards his bike. Wanna go home?

You gave him a smile. Yeah, sure.

You got up from your seat and shoved half of the snacks on the table into your bag. “Later, Atsumu.” You bid the blond goodbye, patting his shoulder in condolence as he gawked at the both of you like endangered animals in the zoo.

“Suna you lil shit.”

Maybe you weren’t only getting rides back home on his bike, maybe you were getting a ride into his heart too.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

Update: Annabeth has not done what needs to be done. 

August moves over into September, hot and sweltering days giving way to the first few hints of the coming autumn chill. One unseasonably cold night, Annabeth had gone to bed wrapped in one of Percy’s old Paris Opera sweaters, waking up with it and wearing it home to ward off the chill of the morning drizzle, like some a normal girlfriend would. 

It’s a problem, she knows, but she just cannot quit this man. 

And boy did she try, about a hundred different times. 

One time, she spent an entire Tuesday before seeing him googling around until she found a picture. It was three years old, and it showed Mittie--oh, sorry, Her Royal Highness Margherita--at a soccer game in Moscow. Next to her is the handsomest man in the world. Percy’s hair is shorter, and something about his windbreaker reminds her of some of the crew boys she knew at Harvard. They aren’t touching, but they are both smiling. This is the kind of girl Percy deserves. This is the kind of girl he should want. His type. She reminds herself of it for hours before meeting him at a show. But the smile he gives her is nothing like the one in the pictures with the princess. And when he whispers what he wants to do to her that evening, she just can’t do it. 

She even took him to his favorite pizza place once to soften the blow. But then she thought about how her dumping him would forever taint the magic of Antonio’s for the both of them, and she just couldn’t abide that.

So she kept putting it off. And putting it off. And putting it off.

And then he asked her to dinner with his parents again, on his one night off in three weeks.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to bring you something?” he asks for the fourth time, concern making his connection thin and tinny.

“It’s just a little stomach thing,” she lies, shaking out a ramen flavor packet. “I’ll be fine. You go have fun with your mom.”

“Okay. I’ll call later to check up on you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to be asleep.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah.”

He clicks off. Her apartment is very quiet. For lack of anything else to do, she decides to check her mail.

Who even mails anything anymore, she thinks.

Rifling through the pile of wasted paper, she sighs at the banality of it all. Junk, junk, junk, NYCB brochure she needs to cancel, junk… Harvard?

She peers at it.

The red seal is unmistakable, as is her name, printed in neat, black ink. “Ms. Annabeth Chase.” Why are they contacting her? And more importantly, who the fuck gave them her address?

Hands shaking, she unfolds it. “Dear Ms. Chase,” it reads, “Thank you for your generous contribution to the Harvard Graduate School of Design. As one of our most promising graduates, we are so pleased and thrilled to receive your encouragement. With your gift, we were able to reach our fundraising goal of $2.5million, which will go to support the various operations of the school, so that we can continue to provide a top-notch education for your fellow students. You do make a difference for us, and we are immensely thankful for you!” And then it goes on. “As a thank you for your generous gift of $15,000, we would like to invite you to the Alistair Moore dinner for distinguished graduates and faculty. We would be delighted to receive you at...” 

She can’t finish, dyslexia scrambling the words in front of her. Or maybe that’s just her, trembling so hard she has to sit down. Fifteen thousand. The Alistair Moore dinner. She knows it well, yet another fancy networking event, like the Eta Industries party. Bile rises in her throat. Who would…

The answer hits her like a freight train. Only one person would be so bold. 

Crumpling the letter in her fist, she pulls out her phone, dialing the number she still stubbornly has memorized, despite deleting it off her contacts list. 

She isn’t sure if she’s upset that she gets his voicemail, or relieved. “Hey, dad. It’s me,” she says, grimacing as she starts off like he wouldn’t recognize her voice. Like it’s any other phone call. “I got your message. The Alistair Moore dinner? I’m not going. I told you, I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. What I need,” she sneers, “is for you to butt out and leave me the hell alone.”

Then she hangs up, before she can chicken out and delete it.

She shoves the letter into her recycling bin, down to the very bottom. Out of sight and out of mind. 

Well, her night is pretty much ruined. 

Ramen growing colder, she lies on her couch, her head hanging over the edge, studiously not looking at her phone. She shouldn’t have left that message. She shouldn’t have opened that letter. She shouldn’t have rebuffed Percy’s invitation. Or maybe she was right, in all those situations. Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. Her leg bounces, frantic, stomach roiling.

Like a gunshot, her phone vibrates on her coffee table. Annabeth catapults herself up, reaching for it, nearly dropping it, even as her eyes begin to blur. Please let it be her dad. Please let it be anyone else but her dad. Please. Please. Please. 

checking in, writes Percy. feeling any better?

With a sob, she hits call. He picks up after the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, softly. “Everything okay?”

“Can,” she hiccups. God damn it. God damn her. “Can you please come over?”

She can feel his demeanor change over the phone. “I’ll be right there,” he says, calm and collected. “What’s your address?”

Her address is supposed to be a secret. No one is supposed to know where she lives. She doesn’t even like Luke knowing where she lives, and he might be the closest thing she has to family right now. But she tells Percy, and he promises to be there within thirty minutes. Throwing her arms over her face, she lies back down, breathing through her nose so she doesn’t vomit.

He makes it in twenty. here is the simple text, devoid of any hearts or emojis, and she buzzes him up. Less than a minute later, he knocks on her door. “It’s open,” she calls, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

Softly, the door clicks open, someone smoothly and quietly stepping inside. “Annabeth?” 

“Here,” she moans. She should get up to greet him. She can’t feel her legs. She can’t feel anything at all. 

The couch dips as someone sits next to her, a warm, large hand on her shoulder, and she can’t help but open her eyes. Percy is there in his blue sweater that she returned the last time she had slept over at Nico’s apartment, his brow furrowed in worry, but he’s smiling a little, too, just happy to see her, to see that she’s safe. In his other hand, he holds up a plastic bag. “I brought you a cookie,” he says, gently. “Chocolate chip.”

Annabeth blinks. “It’s… blue.”

He nods. “It is.”

Blue cookies. His mom’s special recipe, he had told her, for bad days of aching feet, harsh dance instructors, and school bullies.

The dam breaks. 

She launches herself into Percy’s embrace, sobbing. He tucks her head into his neck, his arms coming up around her. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I’m--I’m so sorry,” she gets out, in between heaving breaths. “I just--I didn’t want to be alone and--”

He shakes his head against hers, his nose in her hair. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

They sit there for a long, long time, him holding her as she cries, pathetic. She can only imagine what it must be like from Percy’s end: here he was, having a lovely dinner with his mother uptown on his night off, only to get a frantic call from his hookup, demanding that he drop everything and rush to her side. And he did. He even fucking brought her one of his mom’s special cookies. 

She does not deserve this perfect, amazing man.

It’s that thought more than anything else that pulls her out of her spiral, her sobs abating somewhat. “There we go,” he says, sweetly. “I’m going to get you some water, okay? Be right back.”

Resisting the urge to hold onto his sleeve like some kind of child, she lets him pull away, stepping into her kitchen. Head aching and eyes puffy, she can’t even really register the fact that he is in her apartment right now. Her secret hideaway. Her sanctum sanctorum. He can see her tasteful couches and her expensive coffee maker and her giant TV screen. 

But honestly? She doesn’t care about any of that right now. All she cares about is the long, solid line of Percy’s body next to hers as he sits back down next to her, handing her a glass of water. She drinks it down, greedily, falling back against him, his hand automatically coming up to her shoulder, and she turns into his side, drinking him in, just as desperate.

They don’t speak, just holding onto each other. 

As she drifts off, there on her couch, her arm around Percy’s midsection, she only has one real thought in her head. 

Forget the apartment--this is her sanctum sanctorum. This is her safe space.

***

Annabeth wakes up in a bed that isn’t her own, in an apartment that isn’t her own. 

It reminds her, weirdly enough of her mom’s apartment, she thinks as she sits up in the soft, cream sheets, here in New York. She had only ever been a handful of times, whenever her mother deigned to claim her for their allotted family time. She doesn’t remember much about that place--mostly the skyline through the window, the low, uncomfortable furniture, the spotless, empty kitchen. 

Across from the bed is a mirror, squat and wide. Annabeth has her hair back, her face devoid of metal. She looks tired, she thinks, and maybe a little older, dark, heavy bags beneath her eyes. She’s wearing a real, actual set of pajamas, rather than a sweater or an oversized shirt, pale pink silk tight around her body. 

Shaking her head, she looks down, and spies a thin band of gold on her left hand, which rests on her stomach, sporting a slight, but noticeable curve. 

Only then does she realize it’s a dream. She lets out a grateful sigh. Just a dream.

It seems like a pretty boring one, too. She’s older, a little fatter, and has a nicer apartment. Somewhere in the distance is the indistinct sound of a person singing. And beyond that the even more indistinct sound of the city. 

Stumbling out of bed, her feet falling into a pair of soft, pink slippers, perfectly positioned next to her bed, she makes her way out into the apartment. The walls are cream, decorated with generic seaside landscapes, a nondescript sailboat in the background against an unchanging, cornflower blue sky. 

The kitchen is empty. Breakfast is cooked, laid out on a placemat at the kitchen island, but no one is there eating it. No one is there cleaning up, or making coffee. The food looks delicious, like a magazine spread: a perfectly made bowl of granola and yogurt, a lemon poppyseed muffin, a glass of orange juice on the side. Nutritious. Small. 

It’s weird. It’s really weird.

Moving on, she enters the living room. There’s a little girl on her knees, maybe three or four, she’s wearing a red pinafore over a white polo shirt and Mary Janes shined like the top of the Chrysler building. The preschool version of a prep-school uniform. She’s hunched over the glass coffee table, frizzy blonde curls bouncing as she moves her hand back and forth, scribbling with a colored pencil on a piece of paper. 

All of a sudden, she notices Annabeth standing there. 

“Mommy!” She jumps up, holding the pencil behind her back, her green eyes wide with apprehension. “I--I was--”

She hears whistling, and turns to see… well, it's Percy, but he looks nothing like her Percy. His hair is cropped shorter, parted and moussed perfectly flat. He’s in a three piece suit. He’s in trousers. Not a pair of sweatpants or a muscle tee in sight.

He stops when he sees her. “Sorry, didn’t know you were awake, wouldn’t have been singing.” Which makes no sense, Because Annabeth loves Percy’s ambient music. He looks around her, speaking to his--to the girl, “I told you you’d have to stop when mommy got up.” 

Annabeth glances at the little girl, who nods too solemnly. 

“Don’t worry,” this stranger wearing Percy’s face says, “She’s ready for school. She is ready for her Math qualification. I only said she could draw for a little, to calm herself down.” He glances at the girl again. “Put your things back in the art box, and we’ll go to school. I have an 8:30 meeting with the board.” 

The little girl runs off. Holding her paper and her pencils close to her chest, like she’s afraid someone is going to take them away from her. Maybe someone is. 

Percy turns to her. “I confirmed our reservations at 7 tonight at Sarabeth’s with your mother’s assistant this morning. And the nanny is going to stay late, so we don’t have to bring her.”

The her in question reappears just then. She’s so small. And she’s carrying a backpack. She looks like that breakfast, out of a magazine. But normally kids in magazines smile. 

“Are you ready?” Annabeth’s voice finally says.

A beat, then she nods again. “Yes, mommy.”

“Good,” she says. Outside, the sunlight through the windows isn’t so bright anymore, but dark and cold, like a solar eclipse. “Make me proud.”

And she turns to go back to bed, but the floor has disappeared, and she steps on nothing, tumbling down into the void.

With a start, she wakes up again in her bed, to the smell of breakfast in the air. Which is confusing, because she’s pretty sure she fell asleep on the couch, and she usually doesn’t wake up in time for breakfast, let alone actually make it herself: she has Percy for that, now. 

Right. Percy. 

It comes back to her in flashes: the donation, the voicemail, calling Percy out of desperation. Inviting him into her room, her bed. Falling asleep in his arms. 

She physically shakes her head, roughly scrubbing her face, forcing herself further into consciousness. The light coming through her window is grey and weak, doing absolutely nothing to help her out. The morning feels muted, for some reason, like it’s very far away. Maybe it was her nightmare.

She can’t hear Percy, Annabeth realizes. That’s what’s wrong. She can smell breakfast, but she can’t hear him puttering away. She doesn’t hear the clanking of pans as he tries to be quiet, or his off-key humming, or the dull thump of footfalls on her floor as he practices his steps. 

God, how late did she sleep? If he has to leave for a morning class he usually makes sure to wake her up, first. For a kiss if nothing else.

But when she pads out to her kitchen, she’s stunned to find Percy still there, sitting at her warped kitchen table. There are two plates in front of him, eggs and bacon untouched and cooling. He’s fully dressed, too, in his dark jeans and stupid dance pun t-shirt: “Girls Just Wanna Have Buns,” his sweater on the empty chair. Annabeth had been weirdly looking forward to wearing that this morning; he likes seeing her in his clothes, and she likes seeing him without them. It’s a system that works for them, typically leading to a lot of smiles, a couple giggles, and maybe another round or two before he has to leave.

He’s not smiling now. His gaze is fixed on his plate, hands in his lap. “Morning,” she croaks, softly.

Percy lifts his eyes to her, unfathomable like the sea. “Morning.”

Something in her stops her from sliding into the seat across from him. Standing gives her strength, gives her power that she doesn’t want to give up. She may not be able to tell what Percy is thinking right now, but she knows when someone is gearing up for a fight. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“What’s the matter?”

He is uncharacteristically still. Annabeth has gotten so used to him expressing himself via his body, the stillness is unsettling. Percy holds her gaze for a moment, then sucks in a breath, sitting up a little bit straighter. “I kicked over your recycling by mistake, and when I was cleaning up, I…” He bites his lip, a little ashamed. “I accidentally read some of your mail.”

“Okay.” He can’t be that broken up about her junk mail, can he?

It’s only then that she sees it, laid out neatly next to the breakfast plate. The letter has been carefully uncrumpled, but the red Harvard seal is as obnoxiously bright as ever. “I don’t mean to pry, but…” Percy licks his lips, gathering his words together. “I thought you didn’t get into Harvard?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“It’s just--this is from the Graduate School of Design,” he continues, looking at the page as if to confirm it. “And the dean says you were one of their ‘most promising graduates,’ here, so. That means you have, what, a master’s degree? Right?”

Still, she doesn’t say anything.

Percy rubs a hand over his mouth, square jaw squaring further. “I guess I just don’t understand why you lied to me.”

“I never--” she blurts. 

“I mean, were you trying to spare my New Yorker sensibilities by telling me you didn’t get in? Did you think I would actually care?”

There’s nothing she can say in response. So she doesn’t. 

After a moment, he blows out a sharp breath. “So. Fifteen thousand dollars, huh.”

She sighs, looking away. It’s not like Annabeth doesn’t hate it, too. “I didn’t do that,” she says, crossing her arms. “My dad did it, he just put it under my name.”

“And, he did that… why? I mean,” he tilts his head, a little bewildered. “I thought you guys weren’t on speaking terms.”

“To try and get me to network again, probably.” She shrugs. “And I’m not on speaking terms with him. He just hasn’t gotten the memo yet.”

He hasn’t raised his voice at all. He hasn’t moved from his seat, or made any kind of threatening gesture, but like an approaching storm cloud, she can feel the anger rolling in, dense and crackling. “Does he do this a lot, your dad? Throw his money around for you?”

“It’s not like I asked him to.” 

But he’s shaking his head, rueful. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You know, I thought it was weird that you could afford an apartment in the East Village with a bedroom on periodic architecture contracts, but I’m guessing he pays for that, too?”

He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from bristling. “It’s a trust fund,” she snaps. “It’s still my money.”

“A trust fund,” he says, softly. “Right.” 

Anger lances through her, cold and burning. Just because her dad had set it up for her didn’t mean that she wouldn’t use it. “Yeah, a trust fund. Is that a crime, now?” 

He opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut with an audible click. Pushing his chair out, he stands up, hands flat on the table. “I should go and get ready for my class. I’ll… I’ll text you later, okay?” Percy takes a step towards her, hands reaching for her on instinct, then pauses. “See you around.”

Percy leaves without so much as a look back, closing the door so quietly she can barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears.

[kawaii-harrys]

MAYBE HE HATES ME

Word: 2k+

Synopsis : Your particularly rude neighbor takes an interest in your friend.

TW : None, just that it gets shitty

______

“KEEP YOUR CAT IN CHECK!”, was the first post-it on your door from an angry neighbor after Small Tinkle managed to scratch the neighbor’s door.

“STOP THE FIRE ALARM”, was the second post-it on your door after you had accidentally managed to set the fire alarm.

And since then, there was silence. Although, the smell of the luxurious cooked meal would waft around the hallways at times and you could hear the clattering of crockery too. You had seen him, once. Once when you had to be stuck in the elevator with him after having a shopping spree. He looked like he hated you. After all, the whole time, he did not look at your side, even once and ignored your presence altogether.

Caitlyn was a good friend of yours. To be said, she was the one who listened to you at times like this. She bothered herself with your business and you couldn’t ask for more.

You could easily admit, you were not even near as lucky as Caitlyn when it came to guys. In a room full of people, if someone like Harry had to walk in, he would easily choose Caitlyn, while you would be left behind in the shadows.

She was kind, beautiful, cheerful, and without a second nature. When it came to studies, she was super intelligent. School, music, dance, cutlery, martial arts, and love, she was good in everything. While you could find nothing good about yourself, she was a walking prodigy. You did feel self-conscious when you were next to her. People who you assumed hated you, were kind to her. You didn’t feel like you belonged by your side.

So, today, you were in the cafe you both always met, all alone. You thought it was fair for her since she was stuck with you ever since college started. You even thought the chances of her getting a guy had gone low since she was stuck with you.

When your phone rang, you jumped a bit at the sound. It was Caitlyn.

“Hello?”, you asked, wondering if everything was okay.

“Are you at the same cafe as always?”, she asked through the phone.

“Yeah, is everything okay?”, you asked.

“Is it okay if I bring over the guy I have been seeing for a few days? I want him to meet you”, she sighed at the other end.

You were in a frenzy mode, though. Your hair was all over the place and your skin was blotchy. It wasn’t like you had put in an effort for your looks like Caitlyn did. You were in a gray shirt with mud brown jeans and you wondered if the guy would leave Caitlyn because she had a friend like you.

“I--I mean, if you feel comfortable enough”, you said, knowing there was nothing you could do.

“Alright, we are nearby so we will drop-in in 5 minutes”, she said hanging up the phone. Your glasses were getting foggy due to the steam of the coffee nearer to your face.

You didn’t really feel confident in yourself. Black braided hair, purple rimmed glasses, a copy of a country-themed book by your side, and coffee that looked near beige due to the amount of sugar you used.

Would her boyfriend really like you?

It didn’t matter though. It was their thing.

When the bell at the door chimed, you looked up to see the fair-skinned, blonde, navy blue-eyed girl, that you had always adored and then, there was the guy who lived next door to you.

In a minute both of them approached you, Caitlyn with her big smile and him with just a small one. But when he looked at you, you wondered if he even recognized you.

“Hey Y/n, this is Harry. And Harry, this is Y/n, the most important person in my life”, she said, giving you a big hug.

“Y/n? Aren’t you--”, he stopped mid-sentence as Caitlyn looked at him expectantly. “You look awfully familiar”, he mentioned, looking closely at you.

“Y/n here is very shy around new people. But, she is cool when you get to know her”, Caitlyn babbled.

“Really? I am waiting to get to see her cool side”, Harry laughed along.

“Y/n, I have told you enough times to not braid your hair. You look beautiful when your hair is open, you know? ”, she said, waving a spoon in her hand as Harry called out in the order.

“I just feel comfortable when the hair is out of my face”, you mutter lowly.

“Well, whatever suits you”, she said, dropping her shoulders.

“So, may I ask why your fingers look toasted?”, Harry asked, noticing the burns you had.

“I was just cooking something”, you lied.

Ever since the last post-it note, you had been dropping variety of sweets at his doorsteps anytime you could. Sometimes cookies, sometimes pastries, sometimes jelly. You didn’t want to know who the sender was, since he might get irked off and throw them in the dustbin. You didn’t know what he did with the sweets though, but not seeing them when you returned to get you relaxed for a while.

“Y/n, are you okay?”, Caitlyn asked, noticing the change in energy.

“Yeah, I just have a bit of stress. Miss Evelyn asked me to submit the homework as soon as possible, but I haven’t even started”, you replied.

“Is Miss Evelyn the one who teaches graphics design?”, Harry asked and you looked up at him, easing for a while.

You nodded.

“She can be uptight sometimes”, he laughed. You looked at him for a while. You had been dropping off sweets, hoping to get on his good side, but, all it took was Caitlyn getting him talking to you. It really showed how you were not fit near Caitlyn.

“Caitlyn talks about it all the time. Although she is a Physics major like me, she has taken an interest in Graphics designing”, Harry laughed.

“Hmm”, you nod again.

The rest of the time, it was Harry and Caitlyn flirting with each other all along, not even noticing your presence.

“I think”, you say to grab their attention, “I will go home first. I have some work to do”, you say and grab your purse. “Sorry, y/n, did we make you feel excluded”, Harry asked, with a gentle smile and you shake your head in a ‘no’ and left. Tears pricked at the end of your eyes as you walked down the chilly road.

Small Tinkle needed you anyways. It was time for his food too.

So, you sped your feet in order to reach home sooner.

Your apartment was around the corner so it didn’t really take you much time. As you entered the empty lift, you had an urge to cry out loud. You would be shamed to accept that you were jealous of your best friend; one who was kind enough to be your friend in the first place. But as you unlocked the door, Small Tinkle jumped to your face, making you fall behind.

“Small Tinkle, what’s the matter?”, you asked as you wondered why she was acting such. You thought, she must have escaped through the window to take a patrol. “Oh, are you hungry?”, you said, scratching the cat’s back and as it purred, you smiled and walked in. It was like a miracle, the way she always knew when you felt bad or sad.

“Sorry, Small Tinkle, but you have to do with the dry food again today. I haven’t cooked any meat or fish, you know”, you speak to your cat and you see it visibly sigh, even if it wasn’t possible. “A cat’s life is difficult, isn’t it”, you say jokingly as you lay out the food and water.

You look in the fridge to see if there is anything you can eat, but unluckily, you seem to have finished the last packet of ramen last night, in the spur of the moment. You sigh, not wanting to make a run to the supermarket. Maybe you can sleep hungry today. But, the angrily rumbling stomach wants food. You could order a pizza or a takeout, but, it’s month-end after all.

“Small Tinkle, stay here until I come back in five minutes. Don’t go patrolling today, the weather looks bad”, you say looking at the particular gray clouds out the window.

You re-wear your coat, get your purse and walk down the hallway to the elevator.

The wind has picked up its speed and is even raising the dust. You walk into the supermarket and look for some cheap meals. The instant noodles have at a 20 % discount and the frozen meal some offers on them too. You rush to take a glance at them, but being clumsy for not having eaten for a while, you feel weak and sway back to fall into a hard chest.

“I am sor--”, your words don’t find a way out as you see Harry holding your arms.

“Yo, you are her friend, aren’t you?”, he asked, despite the fact that you both had met just a while ago. You nodded your head again. “Instant noodles and frozen food. Must admit, they aren’t good for your health”, he said, frowning a bit. “It’s the month-end, I can’t help it”, you mutter and he quirks his brows up. “How long have you been relying on this, may I ask?”, he asks waving the box in his hand. “Not your business”, you say, turning away from him, twiddling your hair in between your fingers.

“Means, nearly every day. Am I right? ”, he asks, and you look away trying not to look like a pauper.

“Then you can stop by my house any time you want. It’s nearby”, he says while you push in all the frozen meals in your cart.

“I am not the one to burden anyone”, you mutter under your breath. “Lately, my annoying neighbor has started leaving sweets by the door too. Well, sometimes they aren’t a treat to the tastebuds, but there is way too much that I can’t seem to finish”, he says, walking by your side. Your breathing had visibly taken up speed. “S--So, ask them not to leave them”, you suggested. “I am not the one to pass up free treats”, he says with a bright smile.

As you walk to the counter, he follows you close behind.

“Do we live close to each other?”, he asks and you gulp in your saliva. He had more ravishing raw vegetables and spices in his bag. Maybe he was going to do something good today too.

You notice his eyebrows crinkle when you both get on the same elevator. And he is more certainly shocked when you walk in the same direction. When he realizes that YOU were the annoying neighbor, he was talking about, his face falls. Small Tinkle comes to you when you open the door.

“Missed me?”, you ask her and she purrs. You cradle her to relieve some of the anxiety now that he knows.

“Wait, Y/n, YOU are my neighbor?”, he asks, shock on his face. You nodded again and walked in the door to close it on his face.

He wondered if you already knew that he was the neighbor.

And as it neared 9 PM, the downpour outside, making you crave something warm, you walked into the kitchen to get one of the frozen meals out and microwave it. Just then, there was a knock at the door. You wondered who it could be and walked to it. There stood Harry in all his glory with a casserole. “What happened?”, you asked him, puzzled. “I am really sorry for earlier and as an apology, I thought I could leave you some mushroom ravioli. I have extra, so…”, he trailed off, biting his bottom lip as you smiled.

“It’s alright.”, you said as you let him in. “I was wondering if you were vegan or not. I was even contemplating if you were allergic to mushrooms, but, I didn’t really have much time, so, I hope you understand”, he smiled at you again.

“Thank you”, you smiled at him through your glasses.

“And the next time you are starving, don’t go to frozen meals, you can ask me instead. I make extra for my roommate and sometimes he isn’t around, so…”, you wondered what his obsession was with leaving sentences open.

“I get it”, you mutter.

You wanted to ask him to eat with you, but maybe if there was a chance of a next time, then. Because today, was eventful.