#i hop and skip and land wherever

[fenlock]

Strange dream, may have been astral. Recording to look back on later.

I remember driving in the nearby city, the road and buildings along it were familiar and I know I've dreamed the exact same road. It doesn't exist in real life though.

Some sort of jump, or time skip, and I was in a shop. I distinctly remember feeling weird about it, because I knew I had just been driving and had no memory of actually parking or entering any shops. It was very fae-themed, and I again got the feeling I'd been there before, aware of the layout and knowing there were multiple rooms.

I went into a side room, to the right (I think?) of the main entry. Looked at a few items, only to get drawn into conversation with an employee, an older woman. She was sitting behind a cashier desk, which again felt strange as you'd think check-out would be done by the door and not in a side room. We made small talk, then she offered me a small glass pendant, deep blue with a horselike 'head' protruding from the front. I think it had something to do with horses as well, some type of magic or charm? I recall her saying "wild horses" anyway. Paid for it, then she offered me tea. I accepted, but was leery, the vibes of the shop felt off and taking food or drink seemed like an unwise decision.

Some more conversation. I remember socks? Long and dark gray, very thick like alpaca fur. Parted ways from the employee, only to be approached by a man. More talk about horses, this time rescuing them I believe. Aromatherapy was mentioned for sure, and herbalism for their health.

Another skip. I don't remember the end of my conversation with the man, but was in the same place, a small corner of a room with comfortable brown chairs. I got up to leave, and saw three people approaching through some type of screen or mirror. Was suddenly outdoors, in the back of a cart of some kind, while the three people stepped through a frame-type structure. First two were strange, one non-human with furry ears and an animal face (can't remember what kind. I think something small, maybe hamster or rabbit?). He was vague, I couldn't tell what exactly he was there for or what he wanted (can't remember what he said at all, now I'm awake, just that it was vague and I felt frustrated). Second one chimed in, but again why they were approaching me was unclear. Some sort of rant against another person (Fiddlesticks? Started with a F and had a sticks/styx sound at the end). Both got distracted and started tussling in the grass. Third person finally stepped forward, feminine with pale purple hair and a light southern accent. She said something about training my powers or abilities, and there was some kind of glow at her fingertips. The cart began to move, heading toward some kind of settlement.

Time skip, maybe? It was evening, instead of daylight like before, and I was still in the cart. I think there were small cottages around the path, but few and far between. A town, but definitely not crowded. Some kind of large, manufactured pool of water, extremely long and rectangular. The cart began to travel across it, not on top of the water but not fully sinking either. Water level came up roughly to the top of my chest. As the cart grew close to the opposite side, I got the feeling it was going to dive, and when it came back up it would be a new place, potentially dangerous. I know I did not want to go wherever it was heading. Had the idea of water > portal > waterhorses, and called out to some of my friends. The water got extremely dark, practically black, but I could tell something was different, and the feeling of dread went away.

Resurfaced in a new place, as expected. A huge field, still evening time, with lots of open pavilions strung with fairy lights. Festival vibes. Five of my kelpie companions were waiting a short distance away from the pool, far enough out of the way for the cart to come onto land but still close and intimidating. I hopped out of the cart, calling the kelpies my lovelies (as I do haha), felt/heard someone concerned they were glamouring me, but no one attempted to stop me. Very much an aura of confusion from the people nearby when I approached the kelpies without harm and was allowed to pet and croon over them.

Walked around a bit with my "guards", exploring the festival. Someone yelled something about why tf were there murderhorses roaming about, sounding annoyed rather than concerned, and I recognized the voice as someone I knew (not someone I know while awake, conscious, but I recognized him immediately in dream). Peered around Es so the person (a blonde man, appearing maybe in his 30s, long black coat) could see me and cheekily replied they were there for me and my comfort/protection. An immediate look of fond exasperation of the face of the man, very much an "ofc it was you" type of look.

Woke up shortly after this. I don't remember the end, but I think the blond man and I talked?

[evening-rose-309]

@fakecirilla9, for the fandom thing,

Day 1: Main Fandom

In spite of fucking everything

Fantastic Beast, although mostly for AUs and Grindelwald shipping content. I won't be here any longer for anything else, if I am here much at all. The upcoming movies will soon be dead to me after all of WB and J.K.'s fuck ups. I mostly, somewhat stay only for

this woman,

this man,

if only so I can take their lore and bend it to fit how I see him,

and occasionally,

him, this human, this good boi who really shouldn't be in this convoluted mess of a lover's spat.

Again, I'm in this for the lore, to take and dissect and mutilate as I please, but if Warner Brothers and J.K. Rowling don't shape up, the rest of the series is as good as gone to me.

[lunaastoir]

cute things i think the genshin characters would do

characters included: diluc, kaeya, venti, and albedo 

****minor lore spoilers for diluc!****

an: i’m thinking of making this into a series bc this was such an adorable concept to write so lmk if you’re interested 👀 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

diluc 

sorry kind of starting off with something a little sad 

i think diluc would have a habit of rubbing his vision 

ok seems kinda dumb at first but let me elaborate: 

after the death of his father, diluc was quite obviously devastated 

he basically withdrew into himself after letting all the grief, pain, and rage flood his senses

i think during this time of grieving, he would’ve developed this habit of running the pads of his fingers across his vision to calm himself down 

(v similar to katara from atla) 

since his father had always been proud of diluc’s vision, the thought of touching something that reminded him of his father has always been able to bring him some sort of relief no matter how short lived

it serves as a constant memory of his dad and i think being able to have that kind of connection - no matter how small would hold a significance to him 

stressed? you’ll see his fingers dance across his vision as the crease between his eyebrows gradually loosens 

ok here’s a bonus habit (bc the previous one was sad) 

whenever he’s bartending at angel’s share, he always flips the bottles in this cool bartending way before pouring the drinks 

like the whole shabang - flips in the air, shakes it in a way that the drink foams just right 

people are usually v surprised when they see this bc woah mans has got some sKILLS 

but also bc he’s known for being pretty serious and reserved so seeing a “trick” is kind of breaking the stoic image they have of him 

after he’s done pouring the drinks he’s also really precise about closing the bottles 

he makes sure that the caps are on tightly and that nothing is leaking (which ig is another reason why he does flips with them so he can make sure that the bottles are tightly closed) 

yes he’s rich but he also wants to make sure the drinks don’t go bad bc 1) kind of a loss if they do and 2) his customers deserve the best 

sweet man pls protect him <3 

kaeya

when he’s sitting down at his desk, he brings his legs up so he can sit on his chair criss- cross applesauce 

since he’s in his office and the only other person who’s in there with him is jean, he feels like he can drop the suave, charming cavalry captain facade he puts on when he’s in public and just dial it down slightly to who he really is in that moment 

jean doesn’t say a word the entire time even tho she quite obviously notices 

don’t get me wrong, he’s still the smooth talking kaeya but just,,, more relaxed and comfortable?? if that makes sense 

so since he’s a lot more comfortable in his office, he usually folds his legs into his chair bc damn they hurt from walking around all day

this is kinda dumb but i also think he has a lot of ink stains on his hands from writing so whenever he sees a fresh one he just likes to stamp it onto a piece of paper 

usually that piece of paper ends up being an unimportant report that goes to jean 

dw he also has a bunch of pretty small towels in his bottom drawer that he uses to wipe his hands on bc the public can’t see the pretty cavalry captain w ink stains!! the world would end!! 

oH kind of a side note but i also think he would keep a small folded up picture of something klee drew him in his pocket 

he thinks it’s very sweet and he periodically takes it out just to look at it soft for this man 

last one for kaeya but since he wears boots that have the little lip on the bottom (not really a heel but enough to make some noise) he makes sure to always try his best to walk quietly around the streets of mondstadt at night 

if anyone catches him doing it he’ll wave it off and say something like “oh me? i’m just practicing my stealth - it comes in handy when you have to sneak up on enemies you know?” but in reality that’s just bs 

he really just doesn’t wanna risk waking people up <3 

venti

this adorable man is obviously notorious for drinking 

he loves alcohol!! i mean he’s the anemo archon of the city of wine and freedom so is anyone really surprised 💀

anyways venti always jokes abt not having any mora (he really doesn’t he’s not wrong) but he always makes sure to pay his tab at angel’s share 

the only reason diluc lets him drink sm is because at the end of the day, venti always comes through w the mora 

he really is a talented bard so everything he makes in singing and composing music for other people to listen to always goes straight to angel’s share (debatable if that’s for the best or not but i’ll leave that one to you) 

so yeah <3 basically venti pays back his tabs even tho he’s an archon since he doesn’t want people to experience a loss bc of him 

it’s the archon nature coming out but also the venti nature bc he’s a sweet boy 

anyways getting onto the actual habit 🕺

he has a tendency to skip/hop regardless of wherever he’s going 

he uses his anemo elemental skill a lot while doing this just he can feel a light breeze whenever he skips around 

i also think he carries around extra bard strings in his hat bc he thinks it’s a cool party trick to take them out and be like tada i have extra strings no need to worry!!! 

people are usually not that amused but he does it anyway 

also yeah uh those strings sometimes fall out when he’s skipping 💀 

he’ll be hopping and suddenly bOOM they fall out, he loses them, a kitten by the name of prince takes them, and he has to ask for help to find his strings (i believe this is exactly how venti lost his strings to prince during the windblume festival and no i will not take any criticism and if venti says something different he is lying 🔪)

also has a habit of putting his hair into a bun sometimes!!! 

he loves his pigtails but he finds that he gets bored of them occasionally and his hair needs a break from its wavy tresses so he just plops it into a bun instead 

so so cute 10/10 hairstyle he can do my hair 

anyways love this man thanks for coming home <3 

albedo

i had a feeling i would kind of have a hard time w albedo since he is a little hard to read so i hope this is ok LMFAO 

he has paint stains. everywhere. no you cannot change my mind. 

they are subtle tho i will give him that 

you can’t notice that anything is amiss until you really pay attention and then you’ll start to see the pretty pastels and greens of the sunset he was painting up on dragonspine softly smeared across his clothes 

very rarely you’ll see a cute swipe of paint across his cheek or neck and it’s honestly adorable 

he was probably pushing his hair out of his face while he was painting and some excess paint on his finger landed on his cheek :,) 

he doesn’t really care tbh he thinks it’s just a part of him and it really isn’t that noticeable so he just leaves it 

also!!! since he is a big alchemist and he’s constantly working on labs and experiments i think he would accidentally misplace a lot of his written work 

he seems very organized but w someone as intellectual as him w his brain running miles a minute, i’m sure he has definitely forgotten where he’s put stuff away 

so!! in order to help him remember, he has little notes across his lab detailing where everything is 

if he was working on something and he immediately has to put it on hold bc something came up (klee came in demanding attention or sucrose needs help) then he’ll quickly jot down a note and stick it to his desk so he’ll remember when he comes back just in case he forgets 

sucrose as a result has noticed A LOT of notes across the lab and it’s simultaneously funny and endearing 

“started experiment with sweet flowers to try and turn them into a youth elixir: papers --> on the desk right next to klee’s photo” 

final point: he lets klee braid his hair sometimes if she wants to 

she doesn’t really know how given how young she is so she ends up messing up but albedo always walks her patiently through the steps again 

always makes time for klee no matter what bc he really does care a lot abt her :,) 

i love him sm pls 

[neptunetheplanet7]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, floch’s bad flirting

bold italics is a text conversation

listen to the music masterlist

prev | next

disclaimer again!! i wrote this a long time ago. i know there are things that need to be fixed and things that don’t fit right. i plan to edit this story more in the future but today is not that day :)

You took a shaky breath in as you stopped midway of putting a clean sheet on the bed Mikasa would be sleeping in. The room still had some of her old stuff in it, it's just no one ever came in here after she left. You looked around at all the items she left behind. Smiling fondly at an old picture of you two, you noticed a small figure crossed out in the background. Glancing at the rest of the photos on the shelf, you noticed that every photo had something crossed out.

After looking at each picture, you came to the conclusion the figure was Jean. She must have only taken the photos without him and did this to the rest. You frowned and walked back to the bed. Carefully, you climbed onto it and propped a few pillows up to support you as you leaned back.

For the first time in two years, you got a good look around the room. On the side of the room with the door, there was a large glass window overlooking the balcony above the living room. You always found it strange that she chose a room like that when she usually kept those blinds shut. Her bed was in the middle of the room with a tv mounted on the wall across from it. On the other side of her bed, there were a couple of bean bags below the bay window that looked out on the driveway.

You sighed and took out your phone, pulling up old texts with Mikasa. The last time you texted her was three months ago when you got too drunk at one of Reiner's ragers.

mikasa

mikasas pleasdse

come home

i miss you

i miss you so much

we all miss you so much

come home to me.

She didn't respond to that and you wouldn't know if she even looked at it. She turned her read receipts off for everyone after the first week of trying to contact her. The only time she had ever contacted anyone was two weeks after she left the house.

Don't look for me. Don't contact me.

You got a lot of your friends asking if you got the same message. She sent the same thing to everyone who tried to get in contact with her. You still didn't know where she was or what she was doing. The only thing you knew was that she was coming home the next day. You sighed. Suddenly, you didn't feel like cleaning anything else. You briskly walked out of her room and dialed the number of your best friend.

"Hey, Y/n! What's going on?" Sasha's cheery voice rang through the line.

"Hey hey, Sasha. I'm doing great. At least, I think I am. Do you wanna go somewhere? You can pick me up? Or I can pick you up if you like."

"I'll come to pick you up, honey bunny, don't you worry." You heard her struggling with her keys on the other side of the line and snorted at the noise.

"Need some help, Sash?" You grinned while skipping steps.

"Fine, thanks." She grumbled. "I'll be there in fifteen! You stay put!" She briskly hung up.

Sasha had been your best friend ever since Eren's nineteenth birthday party. She caught you and Eren coming back inside just as she was about to leave, with half the pantry in her arms. She asked for your number to make plans to hang out and chat sometime. You happily obliged, which was probably the happiest thing you had done that night.

You tossed your phone onto your bed as you walked into your room. Your room was on the first floor. You got first pick since you were the one who inherited the house. The house was big and beautiful. It was also on a lake. Perfect for the parties Eren and Jean loved to host. Perfect escape from paparazzi.

Your room had big glass doors that opened to the balcony that wrapped around the back of the house. You had a great view of the lake. The room was painted white. There was a black marble fireplace in one wall with a small wardrobe you used for storing memorable items to the band. You didn't need to use it for clothes since you had a walk-in closet in the big bathroom you partly shared with your bandmates. Jean liked to use the large bathtub.

You collapsed onto the bed and stared into the vanity mirror next to it. It was then when you realized you were still in your pajamas. "Oh shit." Your eyes widened as you hurriedly stumbled over to the closet, falling over once.

You grabbed a pair of baggy sweats and a big t-shirt. With duck socks, of course. The outfit didn't look much different than your pajamas but Sasha would probably be wearing something similar.

You threw your hair into the easiest hairstyle you could muster. You grabbed your boots and hopped up and down while trying to put them on while also leaving the room. "Jesus." You muttered.

Your phone vibrated, signaling that Sasha was here. "I'm heading out with Sasha! You're on your lonesome!" You called out to wherever Armin was in the house.

"Okay! Don't be back too late!" He shouted back.

You laughed aloud as you realized how much he sounded like a dad. You opened the front door and ran to Sasha's car. "Let me in!" You knocked on the passenger window as she reached around to find the button that unlocks the door. Once it was unlocked, you swung open the door and hopped inside.

"Nice outfit," was the first thing she said to you. You glanced at her outfit and scoffed. Your predictions were correct, she was wearing something similar.

"Gee, thanks." You gave a lopsided smile and rolled your eyes.

"Where to, honey bunny?" Sasha said, giving a mock salute while her other hand rested firmly on the steering wheel. You giggled and thought about it. You called her on such a whim that you forgot to even plan anything.

"Uh how about Brain Freezes? I could really use a catch-up with Connie right about now." You suggested.

"That sounds like a great idea! Turns out you do have a brain up there." Sasha snickered.

"Oh good one, because you're the real genius here, clearly."

After a lot of lighthearted banter, you arrived at Connie's workplace. Sasha aggressively grabbed the door handle and slammed it open, causing the bell to fall off its perch and land on your face. "Oops." You grimaced and bent down to pick up the bell. You rang it in front of her face.

"Sasha! Y/n! My two favorite customers!" Connie jumped up and down on the other side of the counter. "How can I assist you ladies today?"

"I'll have the usual." You gave a half-hearted smile, head still impaired from the bell. Sasha had quite the habit of accidentally hurting you.

Sasha snatched the bell from your grasp and started ringing it. She announced her very long order that you could barely keep up with, but Connie was used to this kind of thing, especially with her.

You noticed one of his coworkers scowling at Sasha. You didn't like Floch, to say the least. He was always inviting himself to your parties but he was rude to all of your friends at the same time. He noticed your gaze and smirked.

He strutted over to where you stood, pretending to become very interested in toppings. "How are you, Y/n? It's been a while huh?" He leaned over your shoulder in a way that workers shouldn't with their customers. You made a hasty effort to slip away from his presence.

"It really hasn't. I came here last week. I come here every week and you say that every time." You usually tried to be nice to Floch, but today you didn't feel like being nice.

"Well, even a day without you feels like an eternity." He flirted horridly. You stared blankly at him until he awkwardly cleared his throat and traded spots with Connie at the register.

Connie took off his apron and handed you and Sasha your orders. "Sorry about him. That guy really can't take a hint even if it's right in front of his face." He shot Floch a venomous glare. "Luckily, you guys got here right as my shift ended! Wanna get out of here?" His previous anger seemed to dissipate in an instant.

"Yeah, I do! Where should we go?" Sasha beamed with her spoon still in her mouth.

"Can we just drive around? I've got something I wanna tell you guys." You played with your spoon in the ice cream, averting eye contact.

"Sure thing, Y/n. Let's go." Sasha and Connie said in unison.

Sasha let you drive her car since she was preoccupied with her mountain of ice cream. Connie didn't have a car, he failed his driver's test every time he took it. You'd think he'd learn most of the material by now. "Hey, Y/n?" He asked from the backseat.

"Yeah?" You nodded to him.

"Are you gonna finish that?" He said, referring to your cup of ice cream in the front cupholder. You sighed.

"Go ahead." He thanked you over and over as he leaned over and snatched it.

"So, Y/n? What was it you wanted to tell us?" Sasha wiped her hands on her pants and set the empty container in an extra cupholder.

You gripped the steering wheel harder then relaxed. You took a shaky breath in. "Mikasa is coming home tomorrow."

Connie started choking on your ice cream. "I know, I had the same reaction." You quipped.

"Mikasa..is...WHAT?" Connie managed between coughs.

"After all this time? It's been two years. Tomorrow? That's so sudden! Are you even ready to see her?" Sasha's mouth was gaping open. You leaned over and shut it for her.

"Yes, tomorrow. I still have to get the house ready. I couldn't even make it through her old room without calling you. Jean told us this morning. I don't think we should be worried about me being ready to see her. I think we should be more concerned about her and Jean." You informed. "But, then again, she told Jean about her return first. Plus he's picking her up tomorrow at the airport. So based on that, I think they're on better terms."

"You don't think they'll get back together, do you?" Connie said, his eyebrows furrowing.

You snorted. "Of course not. You know Jean is with Marco now, and he seems pretty happy with him. They've been together for two years now, probably longer if I'm being honest."

"Then what do you have to worry about?" Sasha asked, confused.

"Are you joking? I mean, what if she has found someone? What then? What if she quits the band forever? What if we argue? She dropped off the map two years ago. Completely. She stopped responding to me, to all of us. For two years I thought she lost her interest in everything and went to live a new life, with people better than me. And now she's coming back, out of the blue! It's too much." You stressed.

Connie and Sasha made quick eye contact. "Y/n, I think you're reading too far into it. I doubt anyone could lose interest in you. You're too cool! Let's look on the bright side, she's ready to come home and you finally get to see her again," Sasha said in an attempt to lift your spirits. You smiled graciously. You really were lucky to have a friend like her. "Right, Connie?" She gestured to Connie who looked very deep in thought.

"Didn't you and Mikasa go out in high school?" You almost crashed the car from the shock of the question.

"Briefly, yes. But we weren't 'going out' so to speak. We just, like, made out a couple of times." You could feel your face grow hot at the subject. You thought you were over your crush on Mikasa, but after hearing that she was coming home, the familiar feeling was coming back.

"You're going red, Y/n. I think it was more to you than just a make-out." Connie grinned while Sasha wiggled her eyebrows.

"You're totally in love with Mikasa!" Sasha sang.

"Shut up, you two. I don't wanna get into the details right now." You couldn't even try to hide your heated face since you were the one driving the vehicle.

"Not right now? So maybe somewhere down the line, you will?" Sasha raised her eyebrows and broke out into another infectious grin.

"Whatever, Sash. Enough about Mikasa and me. I really wanna hear about you and Niccolo." You gave her a similar grin while she slowly turned red.

"Nice one, Y/n!" Connie cheered.

"You idiots should just shut it!"

posted: 8/24/21

neptunetheplanet7© 2021

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

[obeyme-ladiesnight]

Card Overlay made by @/auzlsartdump

Unlock the story below!

Easter Surprise!

“Come on girls! We have to hide these eggs quickly!” Asmo cheered as she managed to skip through the grass in heels. She was trailed by her older sisters, Leviathan and Satan who looked a little less than happy about their current situation.

“This is soooo lame! I can’t believe we’re doing this. We dropped out of the Celestial Realm, so why do we have to keep up this religious obligation?” Levi whined as she placed a couple eggs in a nearby bush before trotting after her more cheerful sister.

“Well we’re aren’t celebrating the religious part, Levi~ We’re just doing the fun and sexy part!” Asmo corrected as she placed a few eggs in some tall blades of grass. 

“I don’t recall Easter usually being a sexy holiday.” Satan piped up adjusting the hem of her top that was a tad too snug for her chest. The three girls were all dressed as the Easter bunnies as they hid their eggs around the forest. However, Asmo insisted they went as Playboy Easter bunnies. Each girl wore a specifically colored form fitting outfit with floppy bunny ears aside from Levi who styled her hair to mimic the shape. 

“It just so happens that it is my obligation to make any opportunity to dress up a sexy opportunity to dress up.” Asmo declared matter-of-factly. “Now come on. We have to finish hiding the eggs. Everyone will begin searching soon.” The three nodded in agreement and began finding more places to hide their colorfully patterned eggs. The youngest of the present siblings carefully placed each egg down in spots that would be easy to locate, but at the same time easy to miss. The middle sibling chose to hide eggs in areas that would be overlooked. While the eldest sibling dumped the rest of her eggs in a nearby bush so she can continue playing her mobile dating game in the meantime. In a few moments they were down to the very last egg. “Hmm~ Where should we hide this one?” Questioned the little sister.

~*~*~

“Just drop it in the grass and let’s go. I’m tired of walking in heels and my phone is almost dead, and I’m booooored...” Levi started whining again.

“No. No. No. This is our last egg! We have to hide this one in a special place.” Asmo protested.

“Then toss it in the river. I’m sure wherever it lands will be very special.” Satan remarked.

“Absolutely not! It would be gone forever if I did that.” Asmo further protested.

“Ugh~ I’m with Levi on this. I’m tired of trudging around in this outfit. Just get rid of that egg so we can go. I don’t even care where.” Satan stated with an apparent impatient tone. Asmo paused, then an idea sparked in her mind.

“Okay okay! We can go right after I hide the egg here!” Asmo did a hop, skip, and a step towards Satan and before her grumpy sister could question her actions, she squished the egg into Satan’s cleavage. “There we go! Now let’s go!” Asmo proceeded to leave her sisters behind softly giggling to herself. Levi covered her mouth trying to muffle her laughter, while Satan was stunned for a hot minute. Then she snapped back to reality.

~*~*~

“HEY! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!” Satan shouted as she chased after Asmo. Levi followed behind. Asmo turned on her heel to shrug.

“I chose to hide the egg in the best place I could ever imagine, which just so happens to be in your tightly packed bosom! Why are you complaining? You said you didn’t care where I put it.” Asmo cheekily replied. 

“Gah! There’s no room for anything to hide in here! Why didn’t you put it in Levi’s top? She has plenty of space!” Satan yelled.

“Ehhh?! S-s-Shut up! Don’t bring me into this!” Levi shouted back. Satan was about to retort, but flinched as her face went bright pink. Both sisters acknowledged this sudden action. “Um… Something wrong?” Levi asked.

“I-It twitched.” Satan quietly spoke looking down at the egg. Just a few seconds passed when the egg began to move again and crack and a few moments later, a little baby bird pecked it’s way out of the shell. 

“Haha! Would you look at that! Satan is a mommy!” 

“Uuuwwah! No way! If my phone wasn’t dead I would have recorded the birth!” 

Satan was speechless. She could only stare in shock and awe at her little newborn peeping on her chest nest. 

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Sweet Pandemonium - Gally (The Maze Runner) Part 10 of 16

Wow, I updated. What a shockerrrrr

~~~~~~~~~~

You bounced on the heels of your feet, anxious and excited, waiting behind the front door of your shared apartment with Teresa.

She somehow convinced Ava Paige to let you roam around the city for a few hours, saying that it would be helpful for you. You had no idea if that would be true, but you were grateful anyway. Although, you were going to be guarded the entire time. 

You understood why, but it didn’t make it any less annoying. 

“You ready?” Teresa smiled at you.

You nodded. “Yeah, ready to leave this place for once.”

“Just be careful, okay? Listen to the guard, and don’t try and escape. I won’t be able to do anything for you if you misbehave.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right...”

There was a loud knock on the front door, opening it to reveal your guard for the afternoon, dressed in casual attire so he wouldn’t draw too much attention to himself.

“Love you...”

You looked back at Teresa, slightly scowling. You tried not to scoff as you exited the apartment.

As soon as you left the building, you went wide eyed at how different the Last City looked from the ground. You had only seen it from that window, but now you were actually experiencing it for yourself.

Mostly everybody walking around were wearing masks, probably paranoid about getting the Flare. But you frowned when you saw how many children were walking with their parents, and infants in strollers.

You couldn’t help but almost tear up at the thought of all those kids dying from the Flare. You thought of your baby sister, how you would’ve done anything to save her and your parents if you had the chance.

But you forced yourself to think back to Minho, to all the kids that W.C.K.D. were torturing. You could never condone what they did, what they’re still doing. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw something that almost made your heart skip a beat. But you just decided it was your imagination. It had to be, right?

You looked to your left, and you realized it couldn’t be your mind playing tricks on you.

Thomas?

You went wide eyed when you saw him, in the middle of the street, no less. He gave you a smile, his eyes telling you to follow him. But with the soldier that was assigned to guard you, you knew it wouldn’t be so easy.

You wished you could tell him you needed to come up with a plan first.

It took so much convincing and begging from Teresa just for you to leave your cell. Trying to convince Ava to allow you to walk around the city, even for your mental health, was damn near impossible.

So how the hell were you going to ditch your guard?

You quickly surveyed the area, seeing different types of shops, company buildings, and restaurants of that sort.

Then suddenly, the idea hit you. You could almost feel the metaphorical lightbulb going off above your head. You turned back to look at your guard. “I literally have to take the biggest shit right now.”

You guard cringed in disgust. “Can’t you wait?”

“Do you want me to shit my pants, dude? The tower is so far away, I won’t be able to make it. Please.” You begged, trying to pull the best puppy dog eyes you never thought you’d ever do in your life.

The guard sighed. “Alright, fine.” He led you into some clothing store, going to the very back where the bathrooms were. “Try to hurry.”

You quickly entered the bathroom, grinning to yourself as you immediately noticed the window at the back of the room. It wasn’t too small. Thankfully, you weren’t too large. It would be a squeeze, but you’d make do.

You locked the door, pushing the trashcan in front just in case. Hopping up on the toilet seat as quietly as possible, reaching up to open the window. You jumped, thrusting yourself into the opening, trying not to groan in pain as the edge put pressure on your stomach.

You looked down to see the window was in the middle of an alleyway, away from the busy street. Huh, how lucky...

You fell very ungracefully out of the window, landing on the concrete with a thud, the impact knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“That definitely could’ve been executed better.”

You jumped at the voice, hopping to your feet, but slowly relaxing when you saw Thomas smiling softly at you. And just like that, all the pain you endured from Teresa, all the hopelessness you felt while trapped in that tower, it all seemed to fade away, just from that one smile.

You ran to him, quickly enthralling him in a tight hug. You heard Thomas chuckle breathlessly from the force of your embrace, but he held you back just as tightly.

Memories of laughing together played over and over again in your mind as you held onto him. You already cared for Thomas, but having the memories back...you couldn’t explain it. He felt more and more like a true brother as the seconds passed.

Reuniting with him just felt like a breath of the cleanest air in the world, almost like how it felt after it rained in the Glade.

“Are you okay?” Thomas asked once you pulled away.

“I am now.” You tried to smile, but it only came out forced.

Thomas frowned when he looked you over. Your eyes were dull, almost sunken in, like you hadn’t slept in years. You were well fed, but you still looked malnourished due to how pale you looked.

“What happened to you?” His voice was quiet, almost like he was afraid to ask.

“It’s a long story...a story we don’t have time for, I’m afraid. My guard is waiting. So, whatever you have to say, make it quick.”

Thomas smirked, making you confused. “You underestimate me, Y/N. You don’t have to worry, I’ve taken care of it.”

You cringed. “Should I even ask?”

“Come on.” Thomas grabbed your hand, leading you out of the alleyway and to a van. You stopped, looking to him with hesitance. “It’s okay.” He smiled reassuringly.

You sighed. “I’m trusting you, Thomas.”

You hopped into the back of the van with Thomas, and it quickly took off. During the whole ride, he had a content look on his face. It couldn’t help but make you feel uneasy. Where were you even going?

The van soon came to a halt, and Thomas turned to you. “We have to walk from here. For our safety and yours, you’ll have to be blindfolded until we get there.”

You shook your head. “Wait, no, Thomas-”

“I’ll be with you the entire time, okay? You’re gonna be safe, I promise. You said you trusted me, right?” You nodded reluctantly, and with that, Thomas gently put a cloth bag over your head, completely obscuring your vision.

You both exited the van, Thomas holding your hand as he led you through wherever you were. You were almost sure you were cutting off his blood circulation with how hard you were squeezing his hand, but he kept telling you that you were okay.

“Okay, we’re here.” Thomas removed the bag and you could finally see.

You looked around to see that you were in some sort of abandoned church. Why here?

“Y/N...”

You froze, heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears...you knew that voice, that voice was in your dreams every single night. But, no, it couldn’t be possible...he was dead.

You slowly looked up to see who the voice belonged to. You felt a sudden chill go down your spine as you couldn’t believe your eyes. Was this a dream? A nightmare? No, it couldn’t be real. You were still at W.C.K.D. You must be. They must be trying to trick you into believing that you escaped.

But still, knowing that it wasn’t real didn’t stop you from shedding tears. “This is so sick...even for them.” You cried.

Thomas took a step forward, but you immediately recoiled. “Y/N, what’re you talking about?”

You quickly shut your eyes tightly, placing your hands to your ears to try and block out the booming thuds in your head. “This isn’t real. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.” You kept telling yourself. “Please, stop this. Wake up...”

“Y/N, stop. You’re okay. You’re not dreaming.” Thomas tried to console you.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like a whole Griever was sitting on your chest, putting intense pressure on your lungs. You couldn’t control the sobs that rattled in your chest, making you tremble.

“One, two, seven, five, three...three, five, seven, two, one...”

You soon felt a pair of arms wrap around you. Thomas tried to calm you down, but it wasn’t working. You heard him order everyone out of the room.

This is such an elaborate simulation...

“Y/N...” Thomas whispered. “You’re okay. You’re okay, you’re not at W.C.K.D. This is real. I’m real. Me, Thomas.”

You looked up at Thomas, almost expecting him to turn into some horrid monster from the twisted imaginations of the people that experimented on you. But he didn’t. He just stared at you with the utmost concern in his golden brown eyes. You were so afraid to speak, you wanted this to be real so bad.

“You’re real?” Your voice broke.

Thomas nodded, smiling through the pain of seeing you in such a state. “Yes. Yes, I’m real.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, keeping your hold on Thomas. “Wait...but that means...”

Gally was alive?

After a few more minutes of trying to pull yourself together again, Thomas thought it was finally safe to bring everyone back in one by one. First, Newt entered the room.

“Newt.” You walked to him, quickly engulfing him in a hug.

“You’ve looked better, love.” He joked, well, it sounded like a joke to you, but he was really concerned.

“So have you.” You replied. “You need a haircut.” You tried to tease, but it didn’t make him smile.

Frypan couldn’t wait that much longer and entered the room and ran to you, giving you a huge bear hug that startled you, but you didn’t expect anything less when it came to your friend.

Then, Brenda and Jorge came out. “You’re still alive?” You asked her, shocked that she hasn’t turned into a Crank by now.

“Disappointed?” She smirked, pushing you softly before wrapping her arms around you while Jorge gave you a friendly smile.

And last but not least.

He walked in slowly, so slowly that it almost looked like slow motion. He didn’t want to scare you, certainly didn’t want to give you another panic attack. He wasn’t expecting that reaction. But he guessed it was reasonable, considering that seeing a person you thought was dead was suddenly not dead, but very much alive.

You felt more tears brimming your eyes again. The feelings of being in a simulation coming back, but this was real. He was real, and he was here. He was alive somehow.

“Gally?” You whimpered pitifully.

“Hey, Y/N...” Gally said, tears of his own brimming his eyes.

“You’re alive...”

Gally wanted to run to you, hug you and never let you go. But he knew how sensitive you were right now. So, he stayed where he was. “Yeah...I am.” He chuckled softly.

Almost like something clicked in your brain, you finally one hundred percent believed that this was all real. You didn’t wait one more second, you went to him. You ran to Gally and threw yourself on to him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “You’re really here...” You cried, squeezing even more tightly than you already were.

Gally wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his face to your neck to breathe you in, making sure you were really there with him as he almost didn’t believe it himself.

The both of you stayed that way, almost four whole minutes of keeping in each other’s embrace. The only reason you pulled away was to look at him. He had a buzzcut, and he felt even stronger than he was in the Glade. He had a couple tears rolling down his face as he looked at you.

“How?” You stuttered. “How are you alive?”

Gally smiled. “Long story.”

His voice. You missed hearing his voice so much. You missed everything about him. His eyes, they were just as blue as the day you left him. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Gally. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you.” You declared, the tears not even slowing down.

Gally reached up and caressed your face, and you leaned into his gentle touch. “I never stopped thinking about you. The thought that I might see you again was the only reason I could wake up in the morning.”

Gally pulled you back into his chest, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Thomas starting to walk over to the two of you. One glare from Gally was all it took for him to back off. He was not going to let that Greenie ruin this moment.

“I never thought I’d see you again...” You hiccupped.

“I’m here...I’m here.” Gally cooed. “And I’m never leaving you again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

 bruh finalllyyyy 😭 

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 27

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week oh god it’s only gonna get worse

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26

WangJi is not familiar with YiLing.

His first sight of the town had been marred by the stress of the six day travel, and all the unpleasantness that the trip had encompassed.  Their inability to find any accommodations for the Lan Sect escort had also contributed to the unfavorable impression. Overall, YiLing is not much smaller than Gusu, but significantly older, its streets and canals having sprouted wherever they were needed.

There is symmetry and regularity to Gusu that has always appealed to WangJi’s need for clearly discernible orderliness; it had been designed with care, roads proportionally wide to the demand, the street market restricted to specific areas built to accommodate the resulting foot traffic.

In contrast, YiLing had formed itself around a popular trade route both by land and by water, and had grown as the fame of the Immortal Mountain had grown, without any order or forethought. Some alleys are wider than the main roads, some are cobblestones and the others dirt, and in some, stubborn weeds and vines have taken root, choking the nearby walls and hedges. Some canals have so many bridges, that one could cross half of YiLing just hopping across them; some only have single, narrow bridge, and those are perpetually clogged by carts and carriages. Handsome mansions sit next to houses of ill repute, next to tanneries and farriers, the stench mixing heavily in the day’s heat. The street markets have taken root wherever there is space, and in many places where they clearly should not have, their stands and awnings blocking the thoroughfare. The result is haphazard at best, an overwhelming chaos made worse by the seven-day festival in honor of the Emperor’s birthday.

Wei WuXian loves it.

WangJi can hardly keep up with him. It is a relief to know that Nie MingJue has stationed multiple members of the Nie Sect throughout the town, because Wei WuXian seems to have entirely forgotten to worry about his own safety. Everything is fascinating to him; everything is new, and exciting, and worthy of exclaiming over. Not a single piece of cloth, or an ornament, or a children’s toy has been overlooked. Wei WuXian has to touch everything, ask about everything, haggle over everything. His smile is so wide and bright that WangJi is finding it hard to focus on anything else. Multiple times, he has found Wei WuXian’s hand wrapped around his wrist, tugging on his sleeve, pressing on his shoulder. He is like a child who needs to see everything, but also needs WangJi to see it as well, even if Wangji hardly has time to offer an opinion, before being tugged to the next stand, the next alley, the next bridge.

Wei WuXian has dressed to blend in. His robes are dark gray, lined in red, sleeves tightly tied off at the wrists. It is a uniform more suited to a rogue cultivator, or perhaps a second or third young master of a middling clan. But WangJi is certain that no set of dark, unadorned robes would ever prevent Wei WuXian from standing out. His smile is infectious; people smile back without meaning to, as if compelled by some invisible force. Those that do not, are still left looking dazed, blinking into the space where his smile had been moments ago. The red ribbon in Wei WuXian’s hair is perhaps the most conspicuous part of his outfit, fluttering as he darts from one corner of the street to another, a bright splash of color WangJi can easily follow even when left behind.

“Did you know you look an awful lot like the Emperor?” an old lady says to him, and Wei WuXian laughs loudly, turning to WangJi.

“Did you hear that Lan Zhan? What do you think? Am I as handsome as the Emperor?”

WangJi feels his face heat, but Wei WuXian is already skipping away, exclaiming over a row of grass butterflies. He buys three of them for A-Yuan, then dashes to the next colorful thing, a row of bright scarves embroidered with lotus flowers.

They have long lost sight of Nie MingJue and XiChen; WangJi knows they had not intended to stick closely to one another throughout the evening, as the sight of two Lan Sect members together may raise suspicion. They do not know if the assassin or their accomplices have eyes and ears in YiLing; the rumors in the Immortal Mountain City have placed the Young Masters of the Lan Sect in the Imperial Gardens, along with the Emperor, and Jiang WanYin had been quite insistent that they do nothing to compromise the plans set in motion. Both WangJi and XiChen had dressed simply enough to be mistaken for the Lan Sect escort still residing outside the YiLing proper, but once they are standing side by side, their resemblance is difficult to ignore. Still, WangJi knows his brother will worry, and wishes he could at least catch a glimpse of him in the crowded streets.

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! Look at this!”

Wei WuXian had stumbled upon rows of paper lanterns, each one delicately painted with a different woodland creature in careful strokes. These are, by no means, the first paper lanterns they have seen on their trek across the market. Later in the evening, when the darkness fully sets, thousands of them will be released to the sky, as is tradition on every fifth day of the Emperor’s birthday festival. But these are the first lanterns WangJi has not found visually overwhelming, and he watches Wei WuXian haggle with the merchant for a little while, before simply stuffing the amount the man had wanted into his hands.

“Lan Zhan! He was going to sell it for less!”

The man shoots Wei WuXian a look that clearly says he was not going to do any such thing, but WangJi does not care either way.

“Which one?” he asks, and that is all it takes for Wei WuXian to become distracted again, exclaiming over hedgehogs and deer, until he settles on a lantern depicting a white rabbit.

“Do you like rabbits, Lan Zhan?”

WangJi nods. He has never before considered his feelings about rabbits in any detail, but now, he finds himself quite fond of them.

“Hm, I think we should eat. What do you think? After, we can find a peaceful spot to watch the lantern festival.”

Anything with a word peaceful in it is more than satisfactory to WangJi, and he nods again, letting Wei WuXian pull him to the nearest winehouse.

The common room is crowded and loud, the stench of alcohol mixing with the sharp scent of spices. Majority of the patrons seem to be merchants, but WangJi sees a few cultivator swords leaning against the table edges, despite the fact that their owners lack discernible sect uniforms. YiLing has always been a popular town for rogue cultivators. The Immortal Empress herself had belonged to no sect or clan, and each year, even the largest Sects see a number of disciples leave to strike out on their own, the idea of being anchorless and sectless doubtlessly more romantic in theory than it turns out being in truth. Still, WangJi is more focused on ascertaining if any of them are Sect members in disguise, than he is on Wei WuXian’s conversation with the serving girl.

Once the proprietor approaches however, he finally recognizes that there is an issue.

A single glance at the man’s face explains the situation fully, and WangJi steps closer to Wei WuXian, who is still visibly confused.

“We should leave,” WangJi says softly.

Wei WuXian does not listen. The common room is crowded, but there are clearly at least two unoccupied tables, and Wei WuXian does not understand why the serving girl would pretend otherwise.

The proprietor, unlike the serving girl, has no qualms about speaking plainly, “The Lan sect is not welcome here.”

WangJi had remained a few steps behind Wei WuXian, and cannot see the expression on his face, but he can perceive the telltale stiffening of his shoulders, the tightening of his grip on the sword. WangJi feels a moment of pity for XiChen, having to deal with his own eerily similar reaction in MoLing.

“Excuse me?” Wei WuXian says, his voice cold.

The exchange has drawn notice of the few nearby tables, most of them occupied by men who clearly know how to use their swords, and WangJi can see this situation escalating past the point where it can be managed peacefully.

He grabs Wei WuXian by the elbow and pulls him backwards, stepping in front of him.

“Forgive my friend,” he says, bowing to the proprietor, “he meant no offense. We are leaving.”

He has to physically push Wei WuXian outside. The line of his back is iron hard under WangJi’s hand, and his grip on the sword has not loosened.

“How dare he?” he bursts out, before they are even fully in the street, and WangJi pushes him harder, hoping to put some distance between them and the common room as quickly as possible.

“Do not be angry,” he says softly.

“Do not be angry?” Wei WuXian spits out, fury making his voice vibrate, “By the time I am done, he will be lucky to run a QiShan whorehouse!”

WangJi steers him down an empty alley, afraid that someone might decide to follow, “We are in disguise. The proprietor mistook you for a rogue cultivator. He did not know that he was insulting the Emperor.”

“He knew he was insulting you!” Wei WuXian whirls to face him, his expression outraged.

This is the second time WangJi has seen him angry in response to the mistreatment of the Lan Sect. It is just as overwhelming as the last time, and he is equally as incapable of formulating the correct response.

“This is YiLing,” he says, “the home of the Empress. The Lan Sect has never been welcome here.”

“Are you saying that they are all like this?” Wei WuXian’s voice is dangerous now, and WangJi does not know how to answer that question in a way that will deescalate the situation.

He should have known that this would happen. He should have steered Wei WuXian away from the places that he knows are likely to refuse to serve him.

It was stupid and thoughtless of him to forget. The evening had been going so well. Wei WuXian had been genuinely happy, and now he is furious, and WangJi does not know how to fix what he had broken.

Feeling agitated and unsure, he reaches for Wei WuXian’s hand, “Do not be angry. The street merchants will not care what sect I am from. We can buy food from them.”

He watches Wei WuXian’s anger bleed away in a rush, but it is replaced by frustration and grief, both nearly as crushing as the anger had been.

His fingers press into the back of WangJi’s hand, “Is it like that everywhere?”

“Sometimes,” WangJi says, “but it does not matter right now. You wanted to eat. We should do so before the festival starts, and the streets become crowded. Come on.”

He tugs Wei WuXian slightly, desperate that the subject be dropped, desperate for the return of the happy, smiling Wei WuXian, who seemed to not have a care in the world.  

Wei WuXian lets himself be led, but it is a long time before he smiles again.

[takoyakitenchou]

You and I, a takumegu story

joy is meant to be fleeting. and yet.

Morning

“Takumi-kun,” Megumi yawned as she approached him bearing onigiri and a stainless steel HydroFlask filled to the brim with piping hot jujube tea.

The Italian greeted her with a steaming mug of coffee from his espresso machine in his kitchenette. “I wish I could say good morning, but I’m rather averse to the notion at this point.”

Megumi laughed. It was nearing 5 AM in Tokyo, and they’d been in Takumi’s office at Legislation with a veritable cityscape of the first and second seats’ paperwork organized by importance for the last ten hours. It was tragic that they had agreed to finish all their work a night early so they could enjoy each other’s presence, but this quality time had been relegated to the stupid office. 

“Shall we continue?” Megumi asked, her words lacking any and all traces of conviction.

Takumi heaved a sigh. “I’ve signed so many documents today I can’t tell if I’m writing in Japanese or Italian.”

“To be honest, I’ve probably not even been signing my own name,” she mused. Then she blanched. “O-oh no! W-what if I sent t-the—”

“Relax, Tadokoro-san,” Takumi said, sensing an impending panic attack. “I’m sure Arato-san reviewed the documents before we sent them to New York.”

“I was the one reviewing them!”

Takumi put his hand over hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. His eyes widened slightly as he realized what he was doing, but he brushed the feeling aside. “It’ll be alright, Tadokoro-san. It won’t matter too much.”

It looked for a second as if she were about to implode, but then she sighed, “I don’t have enough energy to hyperventilate.”

“I understood that on so many different levels.” Takumi took one of the onigiri and felt rejuvenated with the first bite, reveling in the warmth of the honey dressed pork. “This is a masterpiece,” he told her. “I feel better than I’ve been the rest of the month collectively.”

She smiled, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. “I’m glad you think so.”

Takumi’s eyebrows drew together. “Tadokoro-san, now that we’re both functional, do you want to visit the noodle festival in Dotonbori?”

She dropped her onigiri. “T-that’s in Osaka, Takumi-kun.”

“Well, Nakiri Alice told me we’re free to take the jet whenever we want as long as it’s not in use.” Takumi lifted his hand. Dangling from his fingers was a lanyard with a small gold key. “Shall we?”

“It’s five in the morning…” But they both knew she was already more than convinced.

When they landed in Osaka, the festival was already underway. 

The sun was slipping past the horizon by the time they realized they’d been gone the entire day and probably caused pandemonium at Legislation — tragic, how they were the sole pillar keeping the Elite Ten from falling to pieces — but neither seemed to mind.

They were sitting on a bench, watching the passersby, content with all the noodles they’d consumed.

Takumi furrowed his brows. “Tadokoro-san?”

“Yes, Takumi-kun.”

“How would you feel if we called this a date?”

Megumi’s eyes widened. “E-ehh?”

Takumi’s face turned red as he attempted to contrive a respectable excuse, but his panic was cut short when Megumi took hold of his hand with an uncharacteristically calm air.

“I would love that, Takumi-kun,” she smiled, and with one look, Takumi figured that not even the urban atmosphere around them could compare to the cosmopolitan vibrancy in her gold eyes.

Sunset

There has always been some vague concept of balance. Everything comes with a counterpart; there is no exception to this, and there never will be. It is a universal truth, as constant as the laws of motion, as flexible as time. Balance is often unseen, and yet it is there. Joy is countered with anguish, laughter with tears; neither can exist without the other.

And yet, every time Takumi Aldini’s electric blue eyes fell upon that sweet cinnamon roll of a girl — one hell of a chef when she was provoked, though — he realized that no law was absolute, because he had never experienced anything but exhilaration when he was with her.

Love was fleeting; that was another supposed aphorism he’d learned from the wise.

But loving Tadokoro Megumi was something he could do once, twice, twice eternity.

“It says in Nakiri-san’s memo that we’re supposed to be providing a lunch service for the jury of the Bocuse d’Or,” Megumi frowned, reading the post-it note stuck on the inside cover of the manila folder Alice had provided for this particular task.

Takumi finished off his espresso. They were watching the sunset in Vienna, drinking Melange and sharing a slice of Sachertorte with the sun descending beyond the Wiener Musikverein in the gentle Saturday backdrop. “For a second there I was going to ask you which Nakiri you’re talking about. Isn’t the Bocuse d’Or in France?”

“Lyon,” Megumi confirmed. “I’m betting Nakiri-san sent us here on purpose. Bocuse d’Or won’t even happen this year. Ah, look. She left us a note on the back of the post-it.” Megumi cleared her throat before reading, “Happy one year, lovebirds. You have twelve hours before Erina goes berserk and calls NATO to send troops to find you guys, so enjoy them. Call me when you want the jet to come pick you up from VIE.”

“Well, Tadokoro-san, I guess we can relax for the rest of the task period. Happy one year, by the way.”

Megumi gave him a bright smile and replied, “Happy one year, Takumi-kun.” 

The sky was soft, an endless canvas streaked with muted shades of orange and pink, everything blending into a gorgeous view highlighted by the spectacular architecture — and yet Takumi couldn’t seem to register anything other than the remarkable girl blushing nervously across from him.

To think it had been a whole year. It was too good to be true. This was the type of love most men searched for their entire lives without once catching a glimpse of; this was the type of love in fantasy, romance novels — everything an illusion. And yet this was real, as real as the warmth of her heart beating against his when she pressed her nose to his neck.

Takumi knew even he, with all his virtues, didn’t deserve her. But maybe she’d be willing to take him along for the ride; wherever Tadokoro Megumi went, he would follow.

It was just then that Takumi’s phone rang, snapping both out of their shared reverie.

The Italian sighed as he read the caller ID: Nakiri Erina.

“Do I pick this up?” he mused aloud, but he already had his answer.

“Y-you have to, Takumi-kun! She’s the first seat!”

“What do you say we don’t go back to school?” Takumi said, turning his phone on silent and flipping it face down. 

Megumi gave him a horrified look. “You just ghosted Nakiri Erina!”

“I mean, she’s probably too busy dealing with Yukihira’s chaos to care, right?” 

“Chaos is a severe understatement,” Megumi admitted. “B-but what if she kicks us off the council?”

Takumi grinned. “It’ll be alright, Tadokoro-san. We have a whole week to ourselves.”

With a sigh, Megumi relented. “So… we’re in Vienna.”

“Right.”

“There’s this restaurant I really want to try… but there’s another place down the street that Ryo-kun said had really good rainbow trout. And while we’re in Europe… have you been to Budapest?”

Takumi clapped his hands together. “Say less. We’re taking a sabbatical for the rest of the month.”

Megumi gave a nervous chuckle. “For research purposes, right? Otherwise Nakiri-san is going to kick us over the Pacific Ocean when we get back.”

At this, Takumi burst out laughing. He managed to choke out, “You are truly one in a million, Tadokoro-san.”

And he meant it.

Dawn

To say Takumi Aldini was known for his elegant calisthenics would be a stretch, but when that chaotically graceful blessing was around him, swinging up onto the rooftop of the trattoria with a picnic basket perched precariously on his fingertips was most definitely not a problem. 

Megumi was waiting for him with a fleece blanket around her shoulders and a gentle smile that warmed her gold eyes brighter than the Italian sunrise. “Hi, honey,” she said sweetly, as if she hadn’t prodded him awake ten minutes ago and told him to bring breakfast up to the roof in five. He’d never be able to catch up to her hopping hare speed, but he figured he’d gotten the basics of Tadokoro Time down. To be early was to be on time and to be on time was to be late. Considering he was five minutes past the downbeat, his girlfriend had probably been waiting for him since before the dinosaurs.

“Good morning, amore,” he replied as he sat beside her and opened the basket. Takumi produced a loaf of brioche and began cutting with expert precision, trying to keep his pulse steady as he felt her eyes on him. The small velvet box in his pocket was doing nothing to help this endeavor.

Megumi regarded the two identical 1.8-centimeter slices in awe before thanking him and lifting the first bite to her lips. 

“This is delicious,” she said once the tranquil hum of the autumn pond had faded to the back of her mind. “The rosemary completes the ensemble really well.” He was truly amazing; they’d been cooking love confessions for each other for the last seven years and he could still make her heart skip beats. His love was unconditional, more pastel than anything.

“Grazie, amore,” he said. “It means the world coming from you.”

“I’m only telling you the truth,” she blushed. “If I have to, I’ll say it every day to make sure you know that.”

It was now or never.

“Listen, Megumi. There’s something you need to know.”

She gazed up at him curiously over her brioche.

Takumi took a deep breath. To hell with the speech he’d parsed out in his head last night — that kind of thing never worked anyhow.

Loving Tadokoro Megumi was about elements and worlds that weren’t in their dimension or maybe even in their universe; it was something beyond time and space that his mind couldn’t process, much less put into words, but maybe this dawn would help transmit this, somehow.

But it was highly probable that Takumi had been ready for this simple statement since the moment he first laid eyes on her. A night’s worth of drafting could not possibly hope to serve justice to everything he needed to say. It was the pinnacle of all his emotions that would do more than enough, right here, right now.

“If I said I knew exactly when I fell in love with you, I’d be lying, but if anyone asks I’ll tell them I love you now, and that is all that matters. Tadokoro Megumi, you are the most insanely talented, beautiful girl I have ever known, and I am the luckiest man in the world to stand by your side, so thank you for that. I know I’m far from perfect; I have my flaws, and you have yours, but you need to know that every little part of you is absolutely everything to me, and nothing in this universe could ever change that. With your hand in mine we will turn this wasteland into paradise. You and I, no… us. I promise that I will always be with you. Forever is finite. But my love for you is beyond that.”

At this point, Megumi closely resembled something similar to a red train — Takumi swore he could see the smoke venting from her ears — but he’d waded too far in to step back out. 

“I have one question for you.” Takumi got down on one knee, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the Verragio box. The ring was elegant to the point where it possessed an ethereal quality. Diamonds seamlessly fused with rose gold on a platinum band; it was definitely flashier than anything either had ever dreamt of before, much less purchased, and yet it was heartfelt and deliberate. And, perhaps most importantly, it spoke volumes — more words and confessions captured within the metal than Takumi could ever express. 

It was a promise of the unbridled love he had for her, the promise of a sterling future he wanted to build with her.

“It is a privilege and an honor to love you. Will you make me not only the luckiest, but also the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

She nodded, doing her utmost to fight back the tears. And as dawn broke in the sky above them, the girl that brought onigiri to his office at five in the morning, the girl that laughed at him over hiyamugi and squeaked whenever he wrapped his arms around her, the beautiful girl that always made him wonder what he had done to deserve her, said two words, and that was enough.

“I will.”

-

soooo um hi @taku-megu i was your secret santa this year! writing a takumegu fic is something i haven’t done before, so i’m really glad i was given the opportunity to write for you. i hope you have a safe and wonderful holiday with your loved ones! 

and of course, thanks to @shokugeki-secretsanta for organizing this event :)

- reina

[litwitlady]

Never Have I Ever (5/?)

Read the Board Game Verse on AO3.

The next Friday night Michael shows up early and with a list of demands. ‘Put on some warm clothes and grab a couple of blankets you don’t mind getting dirty. We’re taking this show on the road.’ He heads into Alex’s kitchen to pilfer the fridge, and Alex doesn’t bother asking questions, he just does as told.

Outside at Michael’s truck, they toss the blankets and whatever Michael took from his kitchen into the bed. ‘Your firepit? Where are we going?’

‘The desert. Our old spot. Hop in.’ A little thrill shivers down Alex’s spine as he climbs into the Chevy. In all their years of each other, spending the night in the desert has only ever ended one way.

Their drive out is twenty minutes of quiet, radio softly playing between them. Michael’s window is down despite the chill, and Alex enjoys the way the wind dances through his hair, making a mess of his curls. Every couple of miles, Michael glances over at him with a promise-painted smile, the same way he used to when they were seventeen.

They turn off the highway, tires kicking up dust clouds behind them. Beyond the mountains the sun is setting, pink and purple and orange flames licking at the first stars daring to blink down at them. The desert around them looks the same as it ever does with pockets of snow still unmelted from the season’s first snowfall. Eventually, two familiar mesquite trees appear and it’s like coming home, both of them breathing a little easier.

Michael puts the truck in park. ‘This place never changes.’ He slides out of the Chevy and before Alex has even set foot on solid ground, he’s managed to float everything out of the bed and onto the desert floor. ‘You want to sit on the ground or would the tailgate be easier?’

He looks nervous and that makes Alex nervous. ‘On the ground, near the fire. Just need a hand getting down there.’ He reaches out to Michael, asking for help but also offering comfort for whatever anxiety is biting at both their heels. Michael helps him onto the blanket and plops down beside him, the fire close enough to keep the encroaching sting of autumn winds at bay.

Scattered around them is an array of food. Everything from paninis oozing melted cheese to a handmade Greek salad from a recipe Michael had found at Isobel’s house while rummaging through her cookbooks. ‘I might have gone a bit overboard, but in my defense, I skipped lunch and was starving.’

Alex is already halfway through one of the paninis, eyes closed in satisfaction. ‘This is delicious.’ Michael makes a mental note to keep the panini maker he’d borrowed from Max. It’s not like Max ever uses it anyway.

Once they’ve eaten their way around the blanket, Michael gets back up and removes a large black case from his truck. ‘There’s a reason I wanted to come out here tonight.’ He winks down at Alex. ‘And no, it’s not the reason you’ve been thinking since I first mentioned the desert.’ Alex looks away quickly, hiding the disappointment that suddenly floods his face.

Michael doesn’t notice, too busy pulling a large telescope from the velvet lining inside the opened case. ‘Mars is brighter than it’s been in years this month. I’ve been itching to get out here and have a look. Isobel gifted me the telescope on our shared birthday in June. I was going to pawn it.’ He shrugs and peeks his eye through the eyepiece, adjusting the fingerscope per the instructions he’s found on his phone.

Alex looks up at the night sky and finds Mars with his naked eye. It is extraordinarily bright, a glowing pink orb rising through the inky black expanse of space. And when Michael finally captures it in the lens of the telescope, he gasps and grabs at Alex’s arm. ‘You can see so much detail. All the pockmarks and craters. And the dust looks almost orange. It’s amazing. Look.’

He drags the telescope closer to Alex so he doesn’t have to move much, checking through the eyepiece one last time to focus directly on the red star. Leaning back on his heels, Michael motions at Alex to take his place and turns his own eyes upward. They are both looking at the same star but he also knows they are seeing something entirely different. He huffs out a sharp laugh which draws Alex’s eye away from the telescope. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing. Just metaphors and nonsense. The ways that perspectives get so warped and are so hard to understand when everyone doesn’t have the same telescope.’ Alex gives him a funny look and Michael laughs outright. ‘I’ve been hanging around Max too much.’

Alex shakes his head gently. ‘No. I think I get what you’re saying. For a long time, we’ve wanted the same thing, but we’ve been coming at it from our own messy angles. I’ve often thought we were similar to the codes I break. We’re on the same page, but written in a language the other needs help translating.’ Michael nods at him, smiling sweet.

They spend an hour searching through the various stars and distant galaxies before a growing ache in Alex’s chest pushes him to ask a question he’s been holding inside since they decided to work on their friendship weeks ago. ‘One day you’ll be able to find your star. The one you’ve been searching for since you crawled from that pod. And you’ll figure out how to finish building your ship.’ He pauses to collect himself, already feeling the emotion in his chest threatening to overwhelm him. ‘One day, you’ll be able to go home.’ His eyes start to burn with unshed tears, but he keeps going, meeting Michael’s gaze with determination and readying the fortress around his heart he was so sure he wouldn’t need anymore. ‘Is that still what you want?’

Michael reaches up and swipes at the first tear that falls from the corner of Alex’s eye. ‘I found my star a long time ago. And I’m not going anywhere without you.’

Alex drops his eyes to his hands. ‘I have no right to ask that of you. I know that. Not after all the leaving I did.’ He tugs nervously at the hem of his shirt, hands starting to shake with the cold. ‘But I’m never going anywhere without you ever again. I promise.’

‘I know.’ Michael grabs an extra blanket and wraps it tight around Alex. ‘So what’s tonight’s game? Didn’t see you toss anything into the bed when we were leaving.’

They both lean back against the Chevy’s tire. Alex stretches the blanket around Michael’s shoulders so that they are sharing more than just the woven wool’s warmth. ‘How about the classic drinking game, Never Have I Ever? Sans alcohol but with a new twist.’ He grins, lips sharpening at the edges and eyes darkening with dare. ‘Instead of taking a drink, you have to kiss the other person.’

Michael snorts. ‘So we’re just soundly saying goodbye to the friends experiment then?’

‘No. Platonic kisses only. No kissing on the mouth and no use of tongue.’ Alex hears the bullshit in his words and knows Michael does too. His nerves return and he begins to second guess himself. ‘Or we can play like normal. There’s still plenty of wine left. Or not at all. I’m happy to just sit here with you too.’

‘That’s okay. I like the new rules. Not much of a wine guy anyway. Who goes first?’

‘Me.’ Alex sits up a little straighter and spends a fair amount of time considering his first move. ‘Never have I ever used my telekinesis to do literally anything.’ He follows the statement with a cheeky grin, clearly quite proud of himself.

‘Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? That’s how we’re going to play?’ Alex tries to suppress the manic giggle that bubbles up in his throat but loses the fight pretty quickly. Michael shakes his head. ‘Have a placement preference?’

‘Nope. I’m looking forward to wherever you choose.’ He blushes and struggles to meet Michael’s eye, muscles tensing in anticipation once he feels Michael shift against him.

A breeze nestles between them, but neither of them notices. The cool air doing absolutely nothing to assuage the heat pulsing between them. Michael presses his lips to Alex’s temple, less a kiss than a remembrance of every kiss that has come before. Alex closes his eyes and lets this new memory burn a spot next to all the others.

It’s strange. Michael has kissed him goodbye dozens of times over the past few weeks. None of them half as affecting as this barely glancing touch.

Abruptly, Michael pulls away. ‘Never have I ever gone to war.’

Alex reopens his eyes at the sound of Michael’s voice. ‘If we keep this up, we’re going to dig ourselves into a hole, Guerin. One we can’t get out of.’ He brings his fingers up to the sleeve of Michael’s shirt. ‘You told me to dress warm when all you’re wearing is this thin t-shirt.’ Michael watches as Alex slowly guides the sleeve up over the top of his arm. Alex bows his head far enough to leave a trail of rough, chapped kisses where the bony end of his collarbone meets his shoulder.

Michael’s breath hitches the instant Alex doesn’t stop with one single kiss. The dry scrape of his lips sending goosebumps down to his toes, his heartbeat a staccato rhythm echoing throughout his entire body. ‘That doesn’t feel at all platonic.’ His voice is low and strained, edged with the desire to flatten Alex hard against the wool blanket beneath them.

Alex smiles and smacks his shoulder with one last loud kiss. ‘I guess that depends on your perspective. Never have I ever stepped foot on another planet.’

‘How about I share a little bit of my perspective with you?’ He scoots impossibly nearer to Alex, hand cupping his cheek and tilting their mouths dangerously closer. Their breaths mingle together although Alex is almost certain he’s not breathing at all anymore. Michael’s lips hover over Alex’s, the anticipation building to a crescendo they’ve both been waiting for since five Friday nights ago at the Wild Pony. And it doesn’t matter how many times they’ve kissed before. Because there’s never, not once been this much hope waiting for them on the other side.

When Michael’s lips finally land on Alex’s skin, they narrowly miss his mouth. Instead they fall at the corner of his lips, a sliver away from touching home. Alex exhales, half-groaning with the comedown. He’d been sure, so sure this was their moment. Swallowing down what he really wants to say, Alex turns to Michael just as he pulls away. ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.’

‘I think this was the best idea.’ He tilts his head and smiles at Alex so beyond innocent that Alex yelps when Michael pushes his shoulders roughly onto the blanket and slides effortlessly between Alex’s welcoming thighs. Alex barely has time to take another breath before Michael’s mouth steals it away, sucking at his bottom lip so desperately Alex has to lift his head to chase after Michael’s urgency.

The kiss is needy, both of them grasping at each other like they’re dangling off a cliff holding on with nothing more than their fingertips. Michael’s hands tug at Alex’s hair, jagged, work-worn nails digging into the softness of his scalp without apology. And Alex fills the gaps between Michael’s ribs with his fingers, feeling Michael’s lungs expand with each new, shuddering breath. Eventually twisting Michael’s t-shirt so tight in his fists it rips at the seams.

One kiss becomes two becomes twenty until neither knows whose tongue is whose anymore. Michael’s shirt is long gone and Alex’s pants are shoved halfway down his thighs before either of them has the sense to stop. ‘Your skin is like ice, Alex. It’s too cold out here for this, even with the fire.’ His breathing is ragged, his chest heaving. Leaning back on his knees, he helps Alex back into his jeans, despite his ardent protests that he’s not too cold, and grabs the remaining blanket to wrap around them. Even with two thick, wool blankets, the night air is still harsh enough to make both of them shiver. ‘Maybe we should go back to your place.’

‘No. Please not yet.’ Alex shifts closer to Michael, joining their bodies wherever he can reach. Laying his head on Michael’s chest, he hums in satisfaction at the steady beat of his heart. ‘You’ll keep me warm. Tell me about the stars like you used to.’ Alex points to a random patch of desert sky. ‘Isn’t that Polaris?’

Michael snorts into Alex’s hair. ‘You’ve always been so bad at this. You can’t really see the North Star from here. It’s not bright enough.’ He drags Alex’s still-raised finger to another part of the sky. ‘That’s Gemini. The twins. I’ve always thought of me and Max as Castor and Pollux. But the version where only one of them, Pollux probably, is immortal.’

‘Max is Pollux, I’m guessing?’

Michael nods, chin tapping against the top of his head. ‘Yes.’

The stars glow brighter as Michael spends the next hour recounting so many of their mysteries, fingertips dancing up and down Alex’s arm like he’s tattooing the stories into his skin. Alex pretends like he’s never heard them before when in reality he’s had them all memorized for over a decade. The stars and Michael’s stories are what had kept his first tour overseas from chewing him up and spitting him out.

Tilting his chin, Alex kisses into Michael’s neck, leaving a sloppy trail in his wake as he nibbles up to his ear. ‘Take me home.’

The warmth of Alex’s house beckons as they pile everything back into the truck. With no traffic, they pull into the driveway in record time, not bothering to unpack the Chevy before heading inside and straight to Alex’s bedroom. They collapse onto the bed and undress each other slowly, allowing the furnace’s heat to melt them into nothing but nerve-endings and sensation, their sweat-slick skin sliding smoothly together.

Once they’re sated and sleepy, Michael throws a leg over Alex’s thighs and wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him as close as possible. ‘I guess we’re dating now.’

[cakesunflower]

Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 4

A/N: hello friends! i hope wherever you’re reading this, you’re quarantined and staying healthy and safe! this is a tough time for all of us and if you or a loved one is feeling sick, i wish you a speedy and easy recovery! i hope this chapter or any of my writing provides you with even a little bit of distraction.

stay safe, stay healthy, stay inside y’all! and happy reading!!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

When Josie pulled up to the driveway of the house during her hour long lunch break, she pursed her lips at the sight of the black Range Rover parked behind Luke’s car. Josie sighed, shutting the door of her car and jingling her keys in her hand as she walked through the threshold of the house, confused gaze immediately landing on a suitcase that was settled on the ground next to the couch.

“Luke?” Josie called, her voice traveling through the house as she wandered into the kitchen. She was in dire need of some leftover spaghetti—so much so that she made the trip back home just to eat some for her lunch break. “Oh, brother of mine—where you at?”

“Why are you yelling?” She heard Luke huff as she crouched down slightly to pull out the dish of spaghetti, straightening and shutting the door with her foot. Her brother stood at the entrance of the kitchen, blonde hair pulled back in a bun, looking unfairly comfortable in his lounge wear. Someone decided to skip work. “And what’re you doing home?”

Josie lifted the bowl to show him before settling it on the counter. As she moved around to grab a bowl and fork, she answered, “Needed sustenance. What’re you doing home?” 

Luke crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow as he asked, “Didn’t you check my text?”

Scoffing dramatically as she shut the microwave to heat up her bowl, Josie faced her brother and returned, “I don’t check my texts at work or while I’m driving, Luke. I’m a responsible adult.” Sure, she remembered her phone buzzing with a text or two from him, but that didn’t necessarily mean she stopped what she was doing to check them.

He rolled his eyes, used to the playful sarcasm she’d become an expert on perfecting over the years. Fixing her with a pointed look, he said, “Calum’s moving in.”

What?

The air ceased from circulating in her lungs, prompting Josie to remain still where she stood as the smile she wore froze on her face. The beat of silence that passed between the two felt like an eternity in Josie’s ringing head, her grip on the counter behind her tightening as she forced herself to process Luke’s words quicker. Less time to make him feel suspicious as to why she was internally losing her goddamn mind. Her heart had picked up its pace, fast in the way it lodged itself in her throat as she blinked quickly.

“I—uh, why?” She hoped the smile on her face wasn’t as nervous as her voice sounded in her ears. “And where’s he gonna sleep? You don’t have another extra room.” The only spare bedroom was now hers.

Luke scratched his beard as he pushed himself off the wall, walking over to the bowl of fruit on the center counter he’d been eyeing earlier. He picked up a red apple as he informed Josie, “Something about a burst pipe? I don’t know, I told him he could stay with us. The couch’s a pull-out. It’s only temporary—he should be fine.”

Josie desperately wanted to ask why Ashton or Michael couldn’t house their friend, biting her tongue when she remembered Ashton only lived in a one bedroom apartment and Michael and Crystal were currently going through a very stressful move from their own apartment to a new house. Despite the lack of bed, Calum moving into Luke’s place was the most logical decision. Even if it had Josie’s heart racing out of pure guilt and nerves. How the hell was she supposed to keep her mind off of him when he would be sleeping down the fucking stairs? Josie had known moving to L.A. would significantly increase her chances of running into Calum—but in the living room? Fuck.

“Wait, shit—I should’ve asked you first, right? I mean, this is your place now too and, like, if you don’t want—”

Luke’s rambling broke Josie out of her guilt ridden thoughts—as did the sudden beeping of the microwave—and she blinked her wide eyes before interrupting her brother. “No, no, it’s fine,” Josie assured him with a gentle laugh, almost forced, as she quickly turned to take the bowl out of the microwave. Her nerves didn’t even allow her to acknowledge the hotness of the bowl burning her fingers before she set it down. She felt a pang ricochet through her chest at her brother’s sudden worry of not clearing with her if his friend could move in to his own home. As an attempt of covering up her guilt, nerves, whatever the fuck it may be, Josie added with a gentle laugh, “I thought I wouldn’t be caught in another sleepover with you and your boys after you moved out.”

Apparently that was enough to have Luke break out into a short bout of laughter, grinning around the red apple as he bit into it with a sharp crunch. Her brother winked at her, moving to leave the kitchen as he said, “You can’t escape us that easily, Jos.”

She could wish, though.

Rather than retreating to the living room or to the dining table, Josie hopped up on the couch, placing a small tray in her lap so the bottom of the hot bowl didn’t burn her lap as she twirled the pasta around her fork. Josie ate her lunch absently, able to vaguely hear the music playing upstairs and the two pairs of footsteps, not at all making a move to go up and see her brother and new temporary roommate.

Luke was only being a good friend by having Calum move in with them, but of course he wasn’t aware of the complication that tensed Josie’s muscles at the thought of Calum living with them. That being said, Calum knew. He knew first hand how awkward it could potentially get with the two of them being under the same roof—the last time they were, they’d crossed the line that had disappeared since. They were already around each other more than it was helpful; this temporary living arrangement wouldn’t be doing them any favors.

Letting out a sharp breath through her nose as she chewed, Josie’s shoulders slumped, disenchanted gaze casted down to her bowl. Was she overreacting? She couldn’t clearly tell and couldn’t bring it in herself to care. Looking her brother in the eye had become hard enough—now the reason for that was living with them. The universe seemed to be against her.

So lost in her thoughts, Josie hadn’t even been aware of the footsteps that were approaching until there was another person in the room, looking up to see the man who had consumed her thoughts lingering by the entrance. She looked up, sensing him before she even saw him, slowly swallowing the mouthful of pasta as her eyes met his dark ones. Calum didn’t say anything, didn’t try to. She recognized, wryly, the reluctance he wore on his face, lips pursed as they silently stared at one another.

Josie lifted her chin, raising an eyebrow as she repeated the same words he’d said to her on one of her first days in L.A., right here in this kitchen. “You could’ve given me a heads up.”

“Thought I’d return the favor of giving you a surprise,” Calum returned smoothly, moving further into the kitchen. He went to the fridge, which happened to be on Josie’s immediate left, given that she was sitting on the counter right by it. Josie’s expression dropped into a deadpan, and Calum scoffed as he opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. As he uncapped it, he looked at her, letting out a sigh as a meaningful expression flashed across his face. “It’s only temporary. It’s not a big deal, Josie.”

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head. “Do you seriously believe that?” she challenged, not entirely satisfied by his statement. He didn’t even sound like he believed it, so how was he going to try and convince her otherwise?

Calum sighed sharply once more, facing the ceiling briefly—Josie fought the urge to eye at the expanse of his neck, at the way her lips had once felt on it—before looking down at her with a tired, almost bored expression. Calum spoke quickly, an irritated rasp in his voice as he retorted, “No, Jos, I don’t; but I can’t stay at Ash or Mike’s and I couldn’t give Luke a legit reason to deny his offer other than the fact that I fucked his sister.”

Her eyes grew wide, absently glad she didn’t have a mouthful of spaghetti she would’ve definitely choked on upon hearing Calum’s words. With her free hand, she smacked his arm, gaze darting towards both entrances of the kitchen, looking into the living room and towards the hall leading to the stairs in case Luke was anywhere near. Her heart had jumped in her throat, feeling a fire spark in the pit of her belly as Calum’s words resonated in her head.

“Are you serious?” she hissed, incredulous gaze on him as Calum rolled his dark eyes, taking a sip of the beer. No longer did he look as reluctant as he had when he first came into the kitchen, now adopting a demeanor too casual than the situation called for. He looked like he could care less about the situation, meanwhile Josie felt her heart pick up its pace. Whether it was at Calum so casually flinging around his words or at the reminder of a night she would never forget, Josie wasn’t sure. Most likely both. She shook her head at him. “Shut up—Luke might hear you.”

“He went to take a shower,” Calum informed, unfazed by the tension in Josie’s voice. She hated how calmly he stood there, and it only made her believe that she truly was overreacting over the whole situation. But she knew Calum—or, well, liked to think that she did—and she remembered the way he had looked so tense on the night of her welcoming party. If her being in the same city as him had his teeth grinding, Josie believed it was fair for her stomach to be in constant knots because of him staying in her house.

“Look, just—” Calum sighed once again, running a hand through his growing hair, resting it at the back of his neck as he looked at Josie. He dropped his hand to the side, offering a shrug. “Just relax, okay? It’ll be fine. You work during the day and I work at night so I doubt we’ll be seeing much of each other, okay? It’s only temporary.”

It’s only temporary. It was only that one time. The latter were words that echoed in the back of Josie’s head every time Calum came into view. She had a feeling the former would come back to bite her in the ass someday, somehow. 

Her eyes met his once more, her lips pursed, and Calum did his best by offering a small smile before turning to leave the kitchen once more. Josie watched him, took in the delicious expanse of his back under the soft material of his red shirt, the tattoos on his arms feeling as though they were only there to make her want to trace them with her fingers. The black ink looked so pretty against his skin, art on art, and Josie hadn’t realized she’d been chewing on her lips until she parted them to speak up without much thought.

“You’re telling me you’re not the least bit worried?”

About this? About us? About Luke finding out and about everything falling apart all over again even though it was barely put back together?

Calum stopped, shoulders lifting briefly before he looked at her over his shoulder. He shook his head with a proper shrug of his shoulders, raising his eyebrows as he asked, “What’s there to be worried about? So long as we keep our mouths shut, we’re fine.”

Josie wanted to laugh at his words, giving an unconvinced tilt of her head and an almost sad raise of her own eyebrows. In that moment, Calum had become too good at masking his emotions, his thoughts, and she found the frustration gnawing at her when she couldn’t get a good read on what he truly thought. “You seriously don’t believe that, do you?” she still tried by asking.

Calum’s gaze averted, looking towards the wall to his right. With the view she had of his profile, Josie picked up on the way he clenched his jaw, the muscle jumping, sexy and tense and complicated. There was a heavy silence for a minute, the tension of their situation weighing them both down as Calum finally sighed. He shook his head, turning away from her as he continued his way out of the kitchen, not before answering, “I’m trying to.”

The three word answer Calum had given Josie sat with her for the rest of the day when she went back to work to finish her shift. She moved mechanically, an interested facade put up to please the clients she met with despite her head begging her to focus on something else—to focus on Calum and what he had said.

In the midst of washing and drying and cutting hair, Josie couldn’t shake it off. I’m trying to. He was trying to what? Believe that they would be fine? That everything would be okay? Did he think that things between the two of them would never be the same after what happened? The thought of it, the thought of her friendship with Calum getting knocked down several pegs, left an ache in Josie’s chest she couldn’t quite voice. Of course things would be different after the night they spent together in her dorm. You can’t just look at someone, much less a person who was your good, close friend, the same way after they gave your five mind blowing orgasms in one night.

Shit. Fuck, that was besides the point. Even if she couldn’t stop imagining the way he kissed her every time she caught him biting his lower lip, or feel her knees quiver as she remembered the way he carried her to her bed in the dorm. . .

God. Of course things wouldn’t be the same between them after that night. She wondered if Calum had to fight similar thoughts from infiltrating his mind, if he had to remind himself that he couldn’t be thinking about her the way she thought about him. At this point, though, what was the use? They’d already overstepped physically. Thoughts couldn’t hurt anyone.

Though they were torturous. And as Josie continued with her shift, they only settled heavily on her heart. Both of them knew sleeping together would fuck things up, but they went through with it anyway—because they were selfish. Because they’d only been thinking about themselves and their needs, not about their friends or her brother. They had just been chalked up as consequences they would have to deal with later, and later was now and Josie had no idea what to do. Maybe Calum had the right idea, to just try and pretend it was fine. Fake it til you make it, that sort of thing. They’d come this far, right?

Yet each step forward seemed to be harder than the last.

When she’d returned home from work, Josie was quick to rid herself of her makeup and change into her pajamas before collapsing on the bed, the softness of the mattress and pillows and cool blankets inviting. She didn’t quite remember when she fell asleep, but she did remember being pulled out of it in the middle of the night, hours later with a dry throat and desperate need for water.

Sleepily, she got up from her bed, bare feet padding towards the door as she pushed her blonde hair out of her face. As Josie made her way down the hallway towards the stairs, her eyebrows furrowed as a sound greeted her, distant but still in the house. Slowly, she made her way downstairs, and with each step she descended, the more distinct the sound became, recognizing it as uncomfortable grunts and huffs.

She walked into the kitchen, flipping on the stove light which was the dullest, and as she filled up a glass of water, her gaze wandered to the kitchen where the sounds kept coming from. Glass in hand, Josie stepped over to the entrance of the kitchen that opened into the living room, and with the dull light on the stove, she could make out Calum’s figure tossing and turning on the pullout mattress of the couch.

The grunts were coming from him, annoyed and uncomfortable, and Josie realized that as nice as the couch was to sit on, the mattress was probably not the same. She rolled her lips into her mouth, eyebrows drawing together at his clear discomfort. Aware of his schedule, Josie knew he probably got home from work about an hour or so ago, probably battling for a comfortable position since then, and before she had the chance to truly think about it, she was making her way into the living room and where he lay.

“Calum,” she spoke, her voice quiet as to not startle him, standing by the makeshift bed. “Hey.”

He stopped before sitting up, dark eyes meeting hers as he blinked in mild confusion at the sight of her. The blanket pooled at his lap, hands brace against the mattress and providing Josie with the sight of his biceps, in full view thanks to his muscle tee. She pushed back the image of when her nails had dug right into the muscle, of the feeling of his arms wrapped around her in something more intimate than a hug.

“Josie,” he frowned, tired and a bit puzzled. “You good?”

She fought the smile that threatened to upturn her lips. “I should be asking you that.” She eyed the mattress, raising an eyebrow. “Is it that uncomfortable?”

“Uh,” Calum paused with a slight chuckle, looking at what he was laying on as if he was seeing it for the first time. “Prison beds might be more comfortable.”

Josie pursed her lips. For all his money, Luke should invest in a better pullout. She gave herself a moment to consider her thoughts, knowing the danger of even thinking them, but she couldn’t just let Calum suffer through a night of terrible sleep. Things between them were weird, both of them trying to navigate through uncharted waters, but she couldn’t use that as an excuse to allow him to sleep on an uncomfortable bed.

“Come on—” she ticked her head towards the stairs before she psyched herself out of her decision. “My bed’s a lot comfier.”

Calum’s gaze met hers, saw something unknown settle in his features as he asked her, “You sure that’s a good idea?”

There was a burning in her cheeks, grip on her glass tightening as she forced her expression to remain neutral, not effected. “We’re just sleeping,” she told him, hating that she felt her voice waver as if she was trying to convince herself of the truth. That’s all they would be doing. Sleeping.

He hesitated for a moment, eyeing her from where he sat, and Josie merely looked back at him with an expectant raise of her eyebrows. Her head kept telling her it was a bad idea, but she told it to shut up. The worst thing she could’ve done had already taken place—she couldn’t let him sleep so uncomfortably after being behind a bar all night. Besides, it’d only be for tonight; tomorrow, she’d tell Calum to hint at Luke in getting a new couch, and if Luke found out his best friend had a shit night on his own couch, no doubt the blonde would buy another one.

When Calum finally let out a breath and got up, Josie took a step back, glancing down at herself as she rolled her lower lip into her mouth at the sight of her clothes. Her pajamas consisted of sleep shorts and an old softball shirt cut to be a crop top, and under the sudden weight of Calum’s gaze, Josie felt a bit too exposed in front of him.

As he stood before her, tall figure easily looming over hers and dark eyes traveling from her blue painted toes all the way to her eyes, Josie’s skin flushed as she told herself she was being ridiculous. He’d fucking seen her naked; she couldn’t get more exposed to that.

Breaking their gaze because the fluttering of her heart was becoming too much, Josie silently turned to head back up the stairs, Calum’s presence behind her one she couldn’t hope to ignore as they silently moved through the dark house. Their footsteps were light as they approached Josie’s room, though it wasn’t needed—Luke could sleep through an earth quake.

Her bedroom was dark, which Josie was grateful for as she went to the right side of the bed, setting her glass down as she sat on the edge and was all too aware of Calum moving around to the other side. Josie’s back was still to him as she felt the mattress shift underneath her because of his weight, and she played with the blanket as she eyed the wall ahead of her. The room was suffocatingly silent, one she really wanted to get rid of. She didn’t want to be weird in front of Calum—too late for that, the voice in her head mocked—but she couldn’t help it. And not for the first time, while Josie didn’t regret what they’d done, she did hate the tense aftermath of it all.

As if she was trying to somehow reassure herself, Josie didn’t look back at Calum as she asked, “This isn’t gonna be weird, is it?”

He was silent for only a second. “No. It’s fine if, y’know, you don’t think about what happened the last time we were in bed together.”

The casualness in which he spoke in had Josie huffing with a drop of her shoulders, bringing her legs up so she could lay on the bed, though she paused as she shot Calum a look. Even in the dark of her room, she saw the smirk curling at his lips as he copied her position. She had nothing substantial to say other than, “Literally, shut up,” through flushed cheeks as she dug her legs under the blanket. Calum merely snickered, feeling a lot more at ease than she was, and she narrowed her eyes when she caught him just staring at her. The amused playfulness danced in his eyes, shamelessly raking his gaze on her as he sat with his back agains the headboard, an easiness in his features Josie felt overwhelmed by. With a heat in her cheeks, she subtly wrestled with the blanket and told him, “Stop looking at me like that.”

Her words prompted a laugh from Calum, raising his eyebrows as he tilted his head almost challengingly. “Really?” he hummed, picking up his phone. His face lit up with the screen, shadowing the sharp features of his face as she watched him set up an alarm for half an hour before Luke’s went off. Eyes meeting hers once more with a smirk, he finished, “You didn’t seem to care when I was literally in you, like, three month ago.”

Josie’s jaw slackened, an incredulous squeak getting caught in her throat as she stared at him in a mixture of disbelief, feeling the entirety of her skin flush at the blatant reminder of a night she couldn’t ever forget. “Stop,” she stated through gritted teeth, no real annoyance or anger in her tone as she huffed and laid down, turning her back to him as she added pointedly, “Goodnight, Calum.”

Assuming sleep would come easy when there was an achingly familiar warm body next to hers would be foolish on Josie’s part, the blanket brought up to her chin as she stared at the digital clock on her bedside table. The green numbers read 2:56 A.M. and Josie suppressed a sigh. Her shift wasn’t until ten, so not getting enough sleep wasn’t a concern. It was just the act of falling asleep itself, with Calum in the same bed as hers, that kept her brain kicking and muscles tense.

It was silent only for a few moments until Calum’s voice spoke up. “So. . . How’ve you been?”

Josie’s eyebrows raised where she lay, unsure of what he was playing at or why he was trying to start a conversation right now. He was fucking with her, wasn’t he? “Calum, it’s three in the morning and the only reason why I suggested sleeping in my room is because I’m a good person and you were being too loud.”

She could hear the damned smirk in his voice as he didn’t miss a beat and instantly retorted, “You think that’s what your neighbors were saying when you were screaming my name that night?”

Josie’s eyes squeezed shut as she brought her hands up to cover her face, preventing herself from screaming into her palms as she felt Calum’s body shake subtly with the deep chuckles that were escaping him. She hated that despite the memories his words brought up, she felt the tension in her muscles surprisingly ease, no longer feeling suffocated in her own room. “Calum, I swear to God I will kick you off my bed.”

“I’m just playin’, Josie.”

Despite the sound of his laugh making her heart thrum, Josie felt her jaw tighten as she remembered their conversation earlier in the afternoon. So she turned to face him, propping herself up on her elbow as she peered down at his laying figure. Calum’s dark eyes instantly met her blue, and she saw the way his expression faltered when he noted the mild hardness in hers. “You’re completely going against what you said earlier today, remember?” she demanded with a challenging quirk of her eyebrow. “Trying to pretend that we’re fine isn’t gonna happen if you keep bringing up what happened.”

“I was wrong.” Calum propped himself up on his elbow as well and Josie didn’t pull back despite the sudden proximity. She could smell his familiar cologne that still stuck to his skin, tickling her nose. With this new closeness, she saw the way his eyes flickered down to her lips, sending her heart to her throat as his low voice spoke, “You and I—we’re fine. No pretending necessary.”

Josie was having a hard time ignoring her racing heart, her own gaze on his kissable mouth, feeling the familiar pull tugging her towards him and doing her best to fight it. “Unless we’re with everyone else, right?”

His lips curled upwards in a small smirk. “We’ve made it this long,” Calum responded with an agreeing tone. Josie’s heart stilled when Calum’s hand reached up, fingers pushing back a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, her teeth pressing together when his fingers just barely grazed her cheek, igniting a fire in their wake. He still had that effect on her. “We got this, pretty girl.”

Her lungs were robbed of air as he spoke, and Josie subtly raised her eyebrows as she shot him a look. Her voice was quiet in the dark of her room, teeth lightly grazing her lower lip as she told him softly, “We won’t if you keep calling me that.”

Calum had been watching her bite her lower lip and Josie wondered if it was just as difficult for him to not lean in and close the gap between them as it was for her. Calum half-smiled, dropping his hand from her as he finally said, “G’night, Jos.”

He settled back down, back towards her, and Josie tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling. She could feel the heat of his body next to hers despite the space between the two of them, and Josie rolled her lips into her mouth as she settled down as well, her back towards his. Yet another bad idea for the books.

At this point, she might as well become the poster child for stupid relationship decisions. Sooner or later, it would come to bite her in the ass.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @loveroflrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @madelynerin​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @theagenderwhocriedwolf @bitchinbabylon @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @calistheloml @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @thesubtweeter​ 

[flowercrown-bard]

Birds Still Sing When They Fall From The Sky

part 1 /  part 2 /  part 3  /  part 4  / part 5  / part 6  / part 7/  part 8   /  part 9 /  part 10 /  part 11  /  part 12  / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 /  part 16 / part 17 / part 18 belongs to this

TW: Alzheimers, memory loss, major character death, no comfort at the end

almost 6k words

so I know I said this was going to be the final chapter. Well, the good news is I finished writing the story. The bad other news is it got far too long to put it all in one chapter so there will be others to come. It will also make it easier for you to skip parts that might be upsetting, because there is a lot of angst on the way

While summer had flown by in a heartbeat with visits from the other witchers, tending to their flowers and enjoying their fleeting time together as much as they could, the winter months dragged on as if they had sunk their claws into time itself, refusing to let go.

And yet they too, passed.

The frost that covered the land receded and the storm clouds made way for the sun.

Not that Jaskier could appreciate any of it. Geralt did his best to point the changes out to him imitating as best he could the way Jaskier had always done it, to tell him how it was already getting warmer and brighter.

Geralt doubted any of his words reached Jaskier.

In the mornings Jaskier was unable to listen to the returning songbirds, his face morphing into a grimace when a wave of dizziness hit him. Midday, he fell asleep, always drowsy, always exhausted.

Sometimes he let himself get lead on Geralt’s arm as Geralt urged him to take a stroll along the shore with him, though he never attempted to take charge of the direction or to stop and stare at something that caught his eye.

Other times Geralt put a warm blanket around his shoulders and sat with him in front of the cottage to watch the sea, even though he knew that Jaskier would only stare unresponsively into the far away that held his mind captive until Geralt sighed and resigned to bring him back to bed.

Despite Jaskier’s afternoon naps he was too tired to stay up to watch the sunset as he had dreamed of doing when they had moved here.

The worst part was the silence.

Jaskier barely ever talked anymore, though Geralt could imagine to see a hint of longing to do so every once in a while. His attempts at talking were swiftly thwarted by panting, as Jaskier’s breath drew short and he gave up on it again.

In his stead, Geralt filled the silences as best he could. Those were pitiful attempts, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. His own clumsy words were better than the screams that still sometimes rattled the night when Jaskier had nightmares. In all their horridness, those screams were better still then when Jaskier was quiet, his heartbeat and breathing the only sound that reached Geralt through the door that still separated them each night.

Geralt barely slept, always listening to those heartbeats. Always waiting with bated breath, dreading the moment he would cease to hear them.

He did so now, too. Jaskier hadn’t stirred from his afternoon nap yet and Geralt didn’t have the heart to wake him, knowing that those blissful few hours Jaskier was well and truly asleep were the ones where he was happiest.

Geralt’s hands clenched around the mug he had filled hours ago in hopes that Jaskier would wake and join him in the living room, and that by now has gone cold.

It was probably wrong to let him sleep. When he woke up, he would be all the more confused. The dim light of the approaching evening wouldn’t make it any better. Too often had Geralt watched Jaskier’s eyes that were often so unfocussed, dart around in discomfort and disorientation after sleeping for too long.

But they could handle that. What more was a little confusion to months in which Jaskier hadn’t recognised either Geralt nor himself nor any part of the life they lived.

Still he sat and waited and listened to Jaskier’s heartbeat, a steady drum dictating the rhythm of their life.

Until the beat was accompanied by a disgruntled noise and the sound of Jaskier turning in bed.

With a heavy sigh Geralt abandoned the mug and made his way to Jaskier’s bedroom that hadn’t been theirs in far too long.

When he opened the door, he saw Jaskier already sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing Geralt. His shoulders lacked the tell-tale tenseness that normally accompanied his distressed confusion. His posture looked almost relaxed and he had his head tilted to the side as he looked out of the window.

Geralt rounded the bed until he could see his face. His heart stuttered at the sight and he froze to the spot. The usually so slack and expressionless face held the tiniest hint of a smile.

The shift in Jaskier as he made to get up on his own thawed Geralt from his frozen shock.

“Wait, I’ll help you,” he said, more to fill the silence than out of actual hope that Jaskier would respond.

He took Jaskier’s arm and guided him until he stood.

For a long moment they just stood there waiting patiently until the grimace that accompanied Jaskier’s dizziness was gone.

Any moment now, Jaskier would hunch over again and let himself be guided to wherever Geralt would lead him.

Instead, Jaskier lifted his free hand and rested it on Geralt’s cheek.

The action hit Geralt so unexpectedly that he tensed up again, sucking the air in sharply, his eyes wide.

“Thank you, dearest.”

His mouth went dry. Geralt felt his lips form words – a name – but no sound came out.

Jaskier’s fingers brushed over his skin, his thumb resting so close to Geralt’s lips. It was too much. It couldn’t – it had been too long since Jaskier touched him like this, since he had acknowledged him as anything other than someone who told him when to eat and who helped him into bed. And now he had his eyes on Geralt – sharp, attentive eyes, nothing like the vacant stares of the past months. He had called him dearest.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice broke around the name.

Jaskier made a small humming sound, his lips tilting up and the skin around his eyes crinkled.

It was Jaskier.

And he looked at Geralt like he knew, as if he had never not known who he was. As if he had never gone away.

“Jaskier! You’re back!” Tears stung in the corners of Geralt’s eyes. He didn’t care. He didn’t have time to think about that, all he could think about was Jaskier being back, being here right before him. He pulled him into an embrace, carefully, but tightly and filled with years of longing. Geralt choked back a sob, when Jaskier’s arms encircled him as well. “You’re back. You came back.”

He didn’t care that he kept repeating the words over and over until they didn’t make sense anymore.

Jaskier’s hand sprawled over the space between his shoulder blades and he could feel the beating of Jaskier’s heart against his chest.

A small huff of air tickled Geralt’s ear.

“I meant it when I said you would be stuck with me for a while,” Jaskier said in that oh so bitterly familiar teasing tone of his. “I am a bit insulted that it took you so long to notice that I’m still here.”

The voice, the words. In a flash, it was too little to just feel Jaskier against him.

Geralt pulled back again, his eyes roaming over every inch of Jaskier, dreading he would flee from him once again into his realm of shadows.

He stayed.

After months, years, of Geralt waiting for him to come back, of having no hope of that ever happening, he was here now, beautiful as the day he had first seen him.

It was cruel. It was a blessing.

Geralt was no fool. He didn’t believe in miracles and he knew better than to hope that this was anything other than a last moment of unexpected happiness before the world would shatter around him for good.

Jaskier’s eyes drifted back to the window and the soft red light of the sky that even through the glass engulfed Jaskier’s face in warm colours. Geralt’s heart clenched painfully at the loss of the endless blue on him, until the smile that curled Jaskier’s lips grew warmer.

“Can we watch the sunset?” Jaskier asked, his voice raspy and out of breath, but pushing through. “Like we used to?”

“Of course.” Not a hint of hesitation made it into Geralt’s voice. This was what Jaskier had wanted all those years ago, when Geralt had told him they could leave the Path behind together. This beautiful dream that for some incomprehensible reason they were allowed to have.

On their way out Geralt grabbed the worn blanket off the armchair and laid it over Jaskier’s shoulders once they sat down on their bench overlooking the sea.

Jaskier huffed and huddled closer, lifting one corner of the blanket to let Geralt under it as well. Something swelled in Geralt’s heart as they sat pressed together like this, shielded from the world by their blanket and the feeling of having the other so close.

Geralt’s eyes were trained on Jaskier, unable to look away and miss even the slightest shift in his expression.

Too often had Jaskier stared straight ahead while Geralt had been searching his gaze. And yet this was the first time in far too long that Jaskier’s eyes darted back to Geralt, despite clearly not having seen his fill of the red sky yet.

“The sunset is over there, love,” Jaskier said and playfully nudged Geralt with his shoulder, the action making Geralt’s heart speed up. “You really should look at it. You never know when you will see a sunset that beautiful again.”

Geralt swallowed thickly, his throat painfully tight. “There will be other sunsets.”

There won’t be another Jaskier and with every beat of his fragile heart Geralt feared more and more that he would go down with the sun, only that Jaskier wouldn’t get to rise again come the morning.

Jaskier’s hand found his as he turned away once more, the light of the sinking sun painting his cheeks in warm red.

“Would you describe it for me?” Geralt asked softly.

At his words, Jaskier’s expression brightened, his smile shining warmer than the sun ever could.  

“Like you described the sunrises when you were hunting alone?”

Geralt huffed out a laugh. “I would hope you could do better than me, bard.”

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Is that a challenge I hear?”

“Afraid you would lose?”

It was so easy to talk like this, so right. To tease each other as if no time had passed since they had last done so, as if they had all the time in the world left to do so.

Without any further preamble, Jaskier began to talk in earnest. His voice didn’t hold the tone that could command a room filled with an enraptured audience. Instead his voice was soft and gentle and willing to crack with excitement, perfect imperfections plain to see. As he painted pictures with his words of the towering clouds coloured by wine and damasked roses, the way the sun reflected on the sea, looking almost like Geralt’s eyes, he sounded like a man in love.

In love with the world he described almost as much as with the man he was describing it to.

Geralt hadn’t dared hope he would ever get to hear Jaskier speak like that again.

Despite his breath becoming short, Jaskier kept talking until eventually the last rays of the sun left his face and his voice died down.

“You missed it,” Jaskier said quietly.

“I think watching you see it was the best way to experience it.”

“Did you see it then?” Jaskier asked, something strange in his voice. “I had always hoped I could help you see it, but I’m not so sure…”

Geralt hesitated, his brows drawn together in thought. For a reason he couldn’t name Jaskier’s words weighed heavy in the air. A short answer wouldn’t do.

“Maybe…” Geralt broke off, only to start anew, “maybe I can’t see quite yet. But you made me look. I never stopped to look before.”

“You will continue to do so, won’t you?”

Geralt couldn’t answer truthfully, couldn’t bring himself to think about it.

“I have you to tell me about it, don’t I?” he said instead, the words sounding hollow, even in his own ears, but Jaskier snuggled closer, turning to face him again.

“I sure hope so.”

Geralt answered with a tense smile that melted into a real one when Jaskier nestled his head beneath his chin.

With every breath Geralt could feel ghost across his skin, his tenseness subsided. Nothing could chase away the dread of what was bound to happen far too soon, but Jaskier’s presence beside him was comforting and made Geralt appreciate every moment they had left together.

The quiet that had settled over them with the darkness was calming. It was filled by Jaskier’s soft hums and the feeling of their bodies pressed together.

Geralt’s thumb traced lazy patterns on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Can you talk to me?” he asked eventually.

Jaskier looked up at him, but didn’t lift his head from where it was laying on Geralt. “What about?”

“Anything.” Geralt swallowed. “I just want to hear your voice.”

He could feel the smile that flitted across Jaskier’s face on his skin, followed by a quick kiss on his chin.

“How about I talk about the stars?”

Geralt snorted, but made no effort to keep the fondness out of his voice. “Still a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?”

“Naturally. I’m still a poet, am I not?”

The words spoken with such conviction as if Jaskier had never put down his quill made Geralt’s heart soar. He couldn’t form words, only nod in reply.

“I never could see the stars when I was in Oxenfurt. There was too much light,” Jaskier said in a light tone that couldn’t hide his longing.

“You loved that city,” Geralt said and tightened his embrace. “It was all loud and bright and colourful and filled with people who could appreciate your poetry the way it was meant to be celebrated.”

“Of course I loved it. Doesn’t mean I never missed the stars.” A thumb brushed over the knuckles of Geralt’s free hand. “It was better when you were there with me.”

Geralt huffed out a laugh. “You mean the one winter you made sure my travels would be delayed until the pass to Kaer Morhen was snowed in so I was forced to go to Oxenfurt with you?”

“I did no such thing,” Jaskier said with an impish lull to his voice that made Geralt’s chest rumble with an answering laugh.

After a brief pause, Geralt relented. “It was nice. Staying there with you.”

“Hmm.” Geralt could hear the smile in Jaskier’s voice. “Winter in Kaer Morhen was nice too. But can I tell you a secret?”

Geralt hummed, asking Jaskier to go on without words.

“I enjoy our winters here too. When it’s just the two of us.”

Geralt’s throat was too tight to answer, but he pressed a kiss against the crown of Jaskier’s head, letting his lips linger there.

Jaskier continued. “Actually, I think this, this moment right now, is pretty damn perfect.” He pulled back from Geralt a bit and tilted his head back until all he could see was the night sky above them. “We are lucky there are not too many clouds today. Perfect for the sunset but not enough to cover the stars.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed and his chest tightened painfully. “Can you… Jaskier, can you even see the stars? Your eyes…”

“No. I cannot. But that’s alright. I still know they are there.” Geralt could almost imagine seeing them reflected in Jaskier’s eyes. “Just like in Oxenfurt. Did you know that sometimes when we were separated for the winter I looked at the constellations you showed me – especially the one that looked like a man with a sword - and think of you?”

“You just said you couldn’t see the stars in the big cities.” A smirk curled his lips. “And even if you did, we both know you were always horrible at finding the constellations.”

“That’s not the point.” Jaskier swatted at his arm with a mock- offended gasp. “As if I actually needed to see some constellation to think about you. But the thought was nice. You can’t deny that it is romantic to see your beloved in the world around you.”

“One might say it’s unreasonable.” Geralt’s reply held no heat. He only followed the steps of the dance they had danced for years now, the dreamer and the witcher. “I’d rather see my beloved in person.”

“Well, I’m here now, am I not?”

Geralt was quiet for a while, before searching the sky, his eyes finding what he was looking for within seconds. He pointed at the stars, guiding Jaskier’s eyes that were unlikely to see what he was pointing at, but following him anyway. “Over there. That’s the warrior constellation.”

Jaskier’s eyes brightened and he tipped his head to the side, as if contemplating what he couldn’t even see. “The sword could also be a lute, don’t you think?”

Geralt huffed. “They are just stars. They can be whatever artists and dreamers want to see in them.”

“A lute then,” Jaskier said again with pride in his tone. “For when you look at it. And a sword for when I do.”

Geralt grunted in false annoyance.

“Come on,” Jaskier poked a finger into Geralt’s chest. Geralt caught his hand, holding it there. “I know you like that idea.”

Geralt eyed Jaskier from the side, taking in the teasing glint in his eyes that said he wouldn’t back down.

Geralt sighed in surrender. “Fine. Maybe I do.”

“Wonderful. And as a price for my brilliant idea, I demand a dance.”

Geralt’s eyebrows shot up. “Now?”

“When else?”

Jaskier tugged on the hand Geralt was still holding.

“Aren’t you tired? I would have thought you wanted to go to bed.”

Jaskier smirked. “When has the late hour ever kept me from dancing? You can complain all you want but you and I both know that you can’t say no when I ask you for a dance.” When Geralt put up token resistance, Jaskier added, “Geralt, my dearest, loveliest witcher. You accompanied me to more than one ball. What is one dance under the moonlight?”

“It’s sappy, is what it is,” Geralt grumbled, but stood up, pulling Jaskier with him. The blanket fell from their shoulders to the ground, as they lifted their arms to lay them around one another.

What they did could hardly be described as dancing. Even a poet as talented as Jaskier wouldn’t be able to spin romantic tales about it.

There was no music and they were barely even moving. Geralt had to support Jaskier, his grip on his waist tighter than it would be in a normal dance to hold him up and Jaskier hung on his neck more for balance than anything. Their feet where stumbling and clumsy.

From the look in Jaskier’s eyes, this was the most perfect dance he could imagine. Nothing like balls and banquets and the performances that came with it.

This was just Geralt and Jaskier, holding each other and barely swaying to the sound of the ocean instead of a ballad.

Jaskier’s head came to rest on Geralt’s heart and even their small shuffling movements stopped as Jaskier’s hands dropped from Geralt’s shoulders, finding Geralt’s hands and tangling them into each other.

Still he was leaning his head on Geralt’s shoulder, like it belonged there.

For a moment that stretched into eternity, they just stood there unmoving, without the need to break this fragile moment with words.

Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s hands gently. “I never thought there would ever come a day that I can’t even dance without someone else holding me up.” No bitterness was woven into his words. “You become so helpless with age…” His voice trailed off, but he caught himself. “Thank you, Geralt.” He looked up, every shift in his expression speaking of sincerity and infinite fondness. “For being here and helping me when I’m helpless. For making me happy.”

Something ugly squirmed inside of Geralt and he tightened his jaw, looking aside. “You weren’t always happy.”

“I am now. There is nowhere I would rather be right now than here with you. You make me happy.” A wistful note clung to his words. “Just like I used to make people happy with my songs. I miss that.”

Geralt’s eyes snapped back to Jaskier’s. “You said that before. Years ago, you said that. And you are wrong. You mde me happier than I ever thought possible.”

Jaskier’s gaze softened and something Geralt didn’t dare name shone in his eyes.

Without meaning to, Geralt’s face hardened, earning him a chuckle from Jaskier.

“Ah, that face.” Jaskier stood on his toes, chancing a quick peck at the corner of Geralt’s lips. “I missed that face. Tell me, what brilliant idea of mine are you going to say ‘no’ to now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” Jaskier grinned. “If I recall correctly you once said that you always made that face because you knew exactly what I was going to ask of you.” He left a pause for Geralt to reply, which Geralt let pass without speaking up. Jaskier filled it for him. “I want to ask you to continue to be happy.”

Geralt’s insides ran cold. He didn’t want to answer and yet he couldn’t stop the broken words from falling from his lips. “I don’t know if I can.”

“I do,” Jaskier said with total conviction.

“How?”

“Because, Geralt of Rivia, my dearest witcher who laughed with me and listened to my songs and agreed to dance under the night sky,” Jaskier stepped impossibly closer. “I know who you are.”

The words, so reminiscent of the first time Jaskier had ever spoken to him resonated through every fibre of Geralt’s being. Even now, at the end of all things, Jaskier knew him. Better than he had let anyone know him.

“If I had one wish,” Jaskier said, lifting his eyes back to the sky, “if I saw a shooting star or had a dandelion with me, I would let it pass by without making a wish. I don’t have to. I have everything here that I could want and I know you will have it too.”

“You have everything here…” Geralt repeated the words as if they were a confession. “So it worked? This place has become what you wanted it to be?”

Jaskier’s smile was bright enough to light up the night. “There is no place I would rather be. Though… anywhere would have been home as long as it was with you.” Jaskier’s eyes dropped to their joined hands. “Do you think the others are still together? Lambert and –“

“Yes,” Geralt said, before Jaskier could finish. “Kaer Morhen is still snowed in. Our family is together.”

“Good.” Jaskier gave a small smile. “That’s good. I don’t want them to be lonely. And you can find them easier like this.”

“Jaskier-“ The name was a plea on Geralt’s lip, though he couldn’t form any other words to beg. He too looked at their hands, still intertwined. Still holding onto each other for dear life.

Don’t let go. Please, don’t let go. Not yet.

Despite his silent pleas, Jaskier slipped on hand free of Geralt’s grip, making to lift it again to Geralt’s face, but Jaskier faltered, wincing.

“Jaskier!” A spike of panic flared up in Geralt. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, dearest,” Jaskier said through a thinly veiled grimace. “Just… I think my joints didn’t appreciate me dancing and standing up for so long.”

“Of course. Let’s go back inside. I should have some more of Yennefer’s medicine in there.”

Jaskier pulled at face, but mirth glimmered in his eyes. “Don’t tell her I said that, but sometimes I am really glad that I got to know her after all.”

With these words, he made to turn towards the cottage.

Geralt didn’t let him get far, before in the spur of the moment, he scooped him up, one arm beneath his knees and one around his middle.

Jaskier let out a delighted little shout when he was lifted and pressed against Geralt’s chest.

“I’m not that frail. You don’t have to carry me, you know.”

“I know,” Geralt said with the hints of laughter in his voice. “But I want to.”

How could he not want to when this made Jaskier’s eyes twinkle with delight and throw his head back in a laugh? How could he resist holding Jaskier and feeling his arms around his neck again and the soft stroking of the hair that got caught in Jaskier’s fingers?

Jaskier had always been beautiful but there was something about him now, grinning and short of breath and lightly trembling and yet still clinging to Geralt as if he never wanted to let go that made him even more radiant than ever before.

Once in the cottage, Geralt sat Jaskier back down on the bed, which Jaskier immediately claimed, burrowing himself in the blanket and watching Geralt with the one eye that peeked out as he went looking for the medicine.

Geralt’s search was interrupted by an outraged cry.

“You traitor!” Geralt turned around to find Jaskier pointing at something peeking out of a box in the corner of the room. “You told me you would get rid of the scarf! Really, it is time to throw that thing out.”

Geralt snatched the scarf up together with the medicine and went over to Jaskier.

“Never,” he said with a grin and wrapped the scarf around Jaskier’s neck, who fought tooth and nail to get it off. Eventually he gave up with a huff.

“You are insufferable. I love you.”

He shot Geralt a mock glare, only softening when Geralt took mercy on him and threw the scarf back where it came from.

Jaskier laughed triumphantly at the action and swallowed the medicine Geralt held out for him.

It took a while for it to take effect, but bit by bit, the grimace smoothed out and Jaskier relaxed into the blankets.

More out of routine than anything else, Geralt straightened the blanket over Jaskier, so that he wouldn’t get tangled in it.

He paused, his heart speeding up. For the first time in months, he was allowed to brush his hand over Jaskier’s hair again, kiss him again.

As he did so, Jaskier didn’t hesitate even a moment, before placing a kiss on each of Geralt’s knuckles in lieu of the single kiss he used to give him.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Geralt asked, the humour in his voice not nearly enough to hide the tremor that came with the emotion that threatened to spill over.

Jaskier didn’t answer, instead scooting over a bit and pointedly looking at the space next to him that had been empty for far too long.

“Lie with me?”

Geralt’s heart was racing, as he obliged. It was foreign and achingly familiar lying next to Jaskier again, like a hug after being apart for too long.

Jaskier turned so he was facing him, his eyes tracing every inch of Geralt’s face as if he wanted to burn it into his memory.

A yawn interrupted his task, but he fought to keep his eyes open.

“You don’t have to stay awake for me,” Geralt said, though his blood began to freeze at the thought of what might happen if Jaskier closed his eyes. “It’s alright if you want to sleep. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Jaskier shook his head weakly. “Not yet. I want to talk for a bit longer. I want to listen to you speak.” Fingers reached out, smoothing over Geralt’s brow and coming to rest near his lips. “I always loved it when you talked.”

Geralt’s lips quirked up. “Can’t say the same about you.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “Careful. I might take that as a challenge and talk your ear off until you love the sound of my voice.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

As if there was anything Geralt could want more than to hear Jaskier’s speak until he ran out of words.

But Jaskier got strangely quiet. Geralt’s heart beat frantically, as Jaskier’s eyes drifted away from him and towards the door.

His breath came out in a sharp exhale of relief, when Jaskier spoke again.

“There is something. I don’t know if you remember, but a while ago I started writing something. I put it away, hid it behind my notebooks. I didn’t want you to find it too soon, but I told you I would let you read it when it was time. I think –“ his voice broke off, his thumb caressing Geralt’s cheek so tenderly it almost hurt. “I think it’s time now.”

Geralt’s brows knitted together and he couldn’t keep himself from nestling into Jaskier’s soft touch.

“Should I get your writing now?” He asked, though the thought of leaving Jaskier for even a moment felt utterly wrong.

“No.” Jaskier leaned in closer until his forehead was resting against Geralt’s. “Stay with me for a bit. Just a little longer.”

The unspoken We might not have a lot of time left together hang heavily above them.

When Geralt had heard Jaskier play the lute for the last time, he hadn’t known he wouldn’t hear it again. When he had taken his final bow in front of an audience, Geralt had assumed more would follow. Again and again, he had witnessed Jaskier’s last times unknowingly.

There was no such ignorance now. Geralt knew what this was. They both did.

Almost unnoticeably, Jaskier’s lips began to tremble and his chin started quivering.

“Hold me?” The request sounded so small and yet there was no doubt in Jaskier’s voice that Geralt would do as he asked, that he would do anything if it would make this easier for Jaskier.

Geralt’s arms wrapped around him, holding him impossibly close. Jaskier melted into his embrace, clung to Geralt as if he was the only thing left in his world.

With one hand, Geralt cradled Jaskier’s head. “It’s alright, Jaskier. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

He had said it before. Almost the exact same words in a situation that had been almost the same and yet was nothing like it. This time, his reassurance wasn’t a lie.

Last time, Geralt had made mistakes he wouldn’t been able to forgive himself for if he made them again. He had run, shouted, panicked.

None of that would help him now. He was done running from what he couldn’t possibly outrun.

He has had nightmares about this. He had dreaded this. But now that the inescapable monster had finally reached him with its claws and as it sank them into Geralt’s heart it felt strangely light. Freeing. Calm.

There was nothing he could do but hold Jaskier in his arms and whisper sweet words of comfort into the night.

Unlike last time, when Jaskier lifted his head to look at him with tired eyes, Geralt smiled at him. Jaskier traced his smile with a finger, a look of awe on his face.

The touch left a trace of heat in its wake, stirring Geralt out of his thoughts.

“I believe you wanted to prove something to me?”

Jaskier let out a quiet laugh. “So eager to hear me talk? I think that is proof enough that you love my voice.”

“Not only your voice. I love you, Jaskier,” Geralt said, pressing a kiss against the finger on his lips. He lifted his eyes until all he could see was the warmth in Jaskier’s. “Talk to me anyway?”

Jaskier’s expression softened impossibly. “Alright. How about I tell you the story of how I met the man I fell in love with?”

Geralt hummed, his lips stretching into a smile. “That sounds lovely.”

“It all began in Posada. Maybe it was destiny, maybe it was just a tired horse and an empty bag of coin that led to the fateful meeting of the brooding witcher and the celebrated bard that left his adoring audience for a chance to follow this mysterious stranger.”

Geralt snorted. “That’s not how it happened,” he said with amusement evident in his tone.

“Oh hush, you,” Jaskier said, his tone rivalling Geralt’s. “But fine. Here’s how it really went…”

Despite the familiarity of the story, or maybe because of it, Geralt didn’t let the words wash over him. He hung on Jaskier’s every word, relishing in the way Jaskier’s expressions shifted as he told the tale. This time around, there were no exaggerations, no embellishments. Only the story of two lonely people finding comfort in each other that would grow into something more precious than either of them could have planned for.

There was something about the way Jaskier told it that made it seem like he was coming to life along with the world he painted in his words.

Words spoken a long time ago came back to Geralt as he watched Jaskier. He was happy. Himself. And so much more.

This was Jaskier, even when he had to blink more and more to keep his eyes open, when his voice became quieter and when yawns interrupted his story.

Without thinking about it, Geralt picked up the story when Jaskier’s voice trailed off again.

He could feel Jaskier smile against him, could hear his heartbeat pick up as Geralt shared with him thoughts he had never before voiced quite like this, about how he had fallen in love – slowly at first, then so fast that he wouldn’t have been able to stop it if he tried - with a smile, a laugh, silly little songs and touches so casual as if Geralt wasn’t something to be feared but cherished. He could feel Jaskier’s arms tighten around him when he whispered quiet confessions in the form of a story.

Geralt continued talking even as Jaskier’s breathing evened out and he drifted off to sleep. He couldn’t let the story stand unfinished, even if Jaskier couldn’t hear it anymore. Maybe the faint sound of Geralt’s words was enough to gift Jaskier with dreams of their years together.

When Geralt’s voice quieted down as well, the only sound left was Jaskier’s heartbeat.

Geralt didn’t sleep that night.

He buried his face into Jaskier’s neck and held him tight, letting Jaskier’s breaths brush over his hair and listening to his heartbeat as he had done every night for the past years.

He listened to the steady beat, the rhythm of their life they had built together.

Until it stopped.

[bee-thee-writer]

Field Trip to SI - III

Peter Parker x Reader Stark

<-- 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈  𝒩𝑒𝓍𝓉 -->

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Peter woke up on Friday morning, dreading the day to come. "Wakey Wakey Petey Pie!" The voice of Clint came ringing through the vents. He groaned and rolled out of bed, not wanting to face Flash, his teachers, the Avengers, and the most scary thing, Y/N when she finds out how much sleep he got in the past six days. 

-Henry the time skip-

"Bro! You made it! Flash was teasing you for not being here yet." Ned smiled when he found Peter running to the bus. "Hey! look! Penis finally decided to show up! Get ready Penis for all your lies to be exposed!" Flash called from behind them. "Hey, Flash, acting like a dick doesn't make yours any bigger." Sometimes Peter was happy to have MJ as his friend. "All right everyone, onto the bus! Peter, may I talk to you real quick?" Peter looked and Ned and MJ as they got on the bus and headed to Mr Warren. "Uhm, yes Mr Warren?" "Peter, I really think it's time to give up the lie about the Stark Internship. I get wanting the attention after your Aunt's death but this has gone on long enough. If you don't end this, I will probably take this to the Principal and it may result in expulsion. Now onto the bus you hop." All he could to was nod and get on the bus. Looks like he may just be taking Mr Stark's offer and go to MIT. 

-Sally the time skip-

As the bus pulled up to the front of the tower, all the students were buzzing with excitement. What Peter didn't realise is that Happy would be accompanying the students on the tour. 

"Alright everyone, off the bus." Just as Mr Warren says that, he notices two people start to walk over to them. "Hi, may I help you?" The lady speaks "Hi, my name is Ella and I am your tour guide of today. This to my right is out head of security, Happy. If you could please follow me inside." The class follows her inside, staring at the place in awe. Peter tries to hide in the back so he won't be noticed by Happy. Happy scans the crowd, becoming surprised when his eyes land on Peter "Kid, what are you doing here? I just dropped you off at school half an hour ago!" All eyes land on Peter. "Hey Happy, I'm just here on a field trip." Happy nods and gives him a small smile. Mr Warren is surprised yet still doesn't believe Peter. "All right everyone, eyes on me please...Thank you. Now! I am going to hand out your badges, please keep them seen at all times. These will deactivate at the end of they day so you are welcome to keep them as souvenirs." She calls out names and hands out white cards to everyone but Peter, not realising this. "Why do you have a different colour to us?" Cindy, a girl in Peter's class, asks.

"Great question! Here at SI, we have different badge rankings. So, there are 4 different levels of badges and 3 sub divisions in each. They are Omega, Gamma, Beta, and Alpha. Alpha has only two sub divisions though. At the very bottom is Omega 1, you guys, which is mainly for tour groups. The badges are always white. Next is Omega 2 which is used for people coming for business meetings. Their cards are black and white checked. Then there is Omega 3 which is for people who come for Press conferences. Their cards are orange."

A hand raises and Ella picks on him, him being Flash. "Yes, you in the front." He quickly glances at Peter "Why does Peni- I mean, Parker not have a badge?" She looks at where the class is looking and smiles warmly at Peter, obviously hiding her annoyance at Flash's almost slip up. "Oh! Hello Peter! I didn't know this was your class." She turns back to Flash. "The reason Peter doesn't have a badge is that Mr Stark has a strict no re-print policy and Peter already has a badge." Peter grabs his lanyard out of his bag and places it around his neck. Happy is fuming at the name and glare Flash is giving Peter. Mr Warren is also glaring at Peter, thinking he forged a badge. 

"As I was saying, next you have the Gamma division. Gamma 1 is tour guides such as myself. We all have a blue badge. Then you have Gamma 2 which is family and friends of Employees. As I can see, 2 people here have one. They are red." Everyone looks at Ned and MJ quickly but back to Ella. "Then finally Gamma 3 which is security. They all have black badges. Moving us to the Beta division. Beta 1 is medical staff and they have yellow badges. If you see one, get out of their way. Beta 2 are Lab scientists and Interns their badges are purple. Beta 3 is Personal Interns and the badges are green."

Flash's hand is up again. She nods at him "If Parker is an Intern, why isn't his badge green and is instead read and gold?" "Good question. Peter is Mr Starks personal intern and has an Alpha level badge because he needs to go wherever Mr Stark needs him to go." Flash huffs and Ella continues. "After Beta we get to Alpha. Alpha 1 Is all of the Avengers. Their badges correspond to their Avengers outfits. Then there is Alpha 2. Alpha 2 only is in the hands of 6 people. Tony and Pepper, their daughter Y/N, Peter, Happy Hogan, our head of security and Colonel Rhodes. Tony, Pepper and Peters badges correspond to the Iron Man suit, Y/N's corresponds to her hero outfit. Happy's is Black with a White stripe and the Colonel's is Black and Grey like the Iron Patriot. Now if you will follow me through security, swipe your badge on the pad and walk through the scanner, like so" As Ella scans her badge, a voice out of nowhere calls:

Ella Patterson, Gamma 1, tour guide

Peter is shocked at how robotic F.R.I.D.A.Y makes her voice sound. He has never heard her sound not so friendly. About half the class jumps and the other half duck. Ella lets out a small chuckle. "Don't worry everyone, that was just F.R.I.D.A.Y, Mr Stark's personal AI. She runs basically anything so if you have any questions and don't feel comfortable asking me, feel free to ask her. Now if everyone will do what I did." Kathy, another girl in Peters class, raises her hand. Ella points to her. "Does F.R.I.D.A.Y stand for something or is it just purely Friday?" Ella lets out a small laugh. "F.R.I.D.A.Y stands for Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth. Now if you could all scan your cards." Flash strides up to the front, acting like he will have a higher card, and scans his badge:

Eugene Thompson, Omega 1, Tour group

He pouts and walks, standing next to Ella. Finally, it was Peter's turn. Here goes nothing.

Peter Parker, Miniboss, Alpha 2, Hello Peter! You are home early, shall I inform the boss of your arrival?

Peter was blushing scarlet. "Uhm, Yeah, Hey Fri, no need to inform Mr Stark, I'm just here on a school field trip."

I'm sorry, Miniboss, but it looks like my protocols are being overridden. Miss Stark has been informed of your arrival, sorry Peter. 

Peter sighs in frustration and looks over at Happy, who is trying not to laugh, Ella, looking amused and Mr Warren and the rest of his class glaring at him. As Ella starts the tour, Mr Warren pulls Peter aside. "Look, Peter, I don't know how you convinced those people to know you and how you hacked Mr Starks AI, but you are on a thin line young man. Don't make it worse!" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: 1312 (longest one yet)

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Just a reminder, The king Stan Lee owns all the characters

[grimmseye]

Expectations

Read on Ao3: here!

Fandom: She-ra and the Princesses of Power

Pairings: Entrapta/Hordak

Characters: Entrapta, Hordak, others mentioned

Tags/Warnings: Post-Finale, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Hordak

Prompt from @spiderlondon: "Entrapta starting to feel so much pressure from everyone in her kingdom that she breaks down crying. I could see hordak snarling at her subject and/or hug her to his chest until she calms down some"

Politics had never been Entrapta’s thing. Way back when, her parents programmed a pair of AIs to mimic their own decision making process, and the small nation of Dryl was left to it after their demise. Princess Entrapta had never learned their laws, or the law-making process, or the judiciary system, or really anything that princesses were allegedly supposed to do. There were the bots and there was probably a council of living people to account for those they represented, and Entrapta had never been informed if there was a problem with that. 

Apparently, sometime after joining with the Horde, the AIs had been dismantled. A part of her grieved them, the last pieces of her biological parents. The ones she’d constructed were destroyed in a lab accident years ago, at an age where she’d realized she didn’t need robots to read her stories or carry her to bed and tuck her in at night. At a certain point, their doting had become counterproductive to her projects, and just being able to pace herself as she pleased was best.

That was unrelated to the situation at hand. Extraneous data, things that didn’t need to be considered for this particular conundrum. The problem was that at the end of the almost-end of the world, Princess Entrapta was meant to become the Queen of Dryl. 

Her return from Beast Island came sooner than she appreciated, frankly. She and Hordak had been doing important work in determining what could be salvaged and what needed to be completely and mercilessly destroyed. They had fun, competing to design the most effective form of annihilation, factoring in environmental impact and showmanship. When the others came to visit, they’d take them up to the best viewpoint to watch as a pile of First Ones’ tech was dissolved in flashing, multicolored flames and spiraling rockets that burst in the sky.

And then the message from Dryl arrived.

Hordak was granted temporary leave from his duties, as Entrapta required her lab partner’s presence, no matter how much people grumbled about his tyranny. And besides, he’d never actually seen her original lab. She was sure he’d appreciate the complexity of the Crypto Castle, though perhaps not the inability to navigate it. The Fright Zone, by contrast, had an efficient layout despite its daunting appearance. 

Their ship, reconstructed from salvaged materials and her understanding of Darla, shot over the restored lands of Etheria. Biology wasn’t really her field of interest, but she just may have to take a step into it as she gawked at the creatures below. So many new beasties had woken up with the restoration of magic. The First Ones’ designs especially made her eyes shine, as they were a fascinating splice between the biological and mechanical, which provided all kinds of resources to study with regards to neural integration that could revolutionize prosthetics — 

“ — and it’s really a shame that all of Horde Prime’s data got trashed in the final battle but between you and Kadroh I’m sure I can figure out how you integrated ports into your central nervous system.” As she spoke, Entrapta poked Hordak in the back, in the space between those ports. The skin surrounding them was sensitive, according to him.

Hordak’s brow scrunched. He just tended to do that, whenever Kadroh came up. The whole Wrong Hordak thing hadn’t exactly been well received, but she propped herself up on her pigtails to smooth out the crease with her thumb. “Can I? Study you?” she asked, giving him an enormous grin.

Hordak stared at her, his expression flat but his silence telling. From him, the lack of a no meant that — “I suppose that would be fine. Though I would have thought with as much poking around as you do, you would have already figured that out.” 

“Not at all!” She gushed. “I’ve only collected sufficient data on how they integrate with your armor, but I haven’t even scratched the surface of what it does with your body. Once I figure that out I could make further improvements to your exoskeleton to boost its sensitivity — I really am going to have to start picking up biology at this rate, hmmm.” She drew her feet up, hair forming a cushion under her legs. 

Hordak gave a huff, but she knew he would say something if it actually upset him. 

As the first peaks of Dryl’s mountains came into view, their conversation quieted. Most of the nation was formed from spread-out mining operations, the towns reliant on their dig sites. She vaguely remembered issuing money out wherever a dig produced something new and interesting to study, skimming the details to skip right to the good part before authorizing the transfer. Her bots took care of the rest. 

Her bots had taken care of most things, before she joined the Horde. It had been a rougher transition than she liked to let on, moving into those sprawling halls. 

Entrapta felt Hordak come up beside her at the window, peering down as well. His presence helped soothe her nerves. The Fright Zone had been a home to her, but it only really became that once they started working together. “Tell me about this place,” he said. 

Entrapta faltered. “It’s — well Dryl is one of the smallest kingdoms in Etheria, but we built it right on top of a First Ones’ hot zone! Most of it is ore mining — iron and adamantine and such, but on occasion we’d pull up First Ones’ tech, like that chip that infected Adora’s sword!” 

A smile crossed his face. “That’s why you were so familiar with First Ones’ technology,” he observed. 

“Yep!” She plastered on a smile of her own without real enthusiasm.

The silence stretched out, longer than she thought it was supposed to. Or maybe he was just thinking. It was nothing, probably. She was just getting into a tizzy over nothing. 

Hordak cleared his throat. “What was… growing up here like? I know that the Horde did not take interest in your kingdom until you… fell into our grasp. A critical error on my part, though perhaps one made for the best.” 

Entrapta could recognize his attempt to compliment her and apologize all at once. Hordak was weird like that, but at least he didn’t act other than how he felt. People would say they weren’t upset when they were, and seemed to expect her to figure out the truth. It was nice, having someone who meant what they said, even if she had to dig a bit to find its meaning. 

“Entrapta?”

“Huh?” She blinked, tearing her gaze from the window. 

Hordak was frowning at her. “You didn’t answer the question.” 

“Uhhhh.” As he opened his mouth to repeat himself, she burst out, “Oh right! Yeah, it was great!” And she got to launch into all the intricacies she’d installed in the Crypto Castle, uncertain why he was frowning through it. As the castle itself came into view she squealed her excitement, tugging on Hordak’s arm and pointing, shouting, “There it is, see!” 

She watched him from the corner of her vision, how his frown lingered on her before he slowly turned his gaze to the window. 

The ship banked down, landing rougher than she would like, but all things had their quirks. They were in one piece and that meant flight was a success. She hopped down the ramp, taking in a lungful of the air, the scent of metal and dust tasting of home. 

They’d landed upon the cliffs above her old castle, and Hordak strolled to the edge to look down upon it. “This is an impressive fortress,” he commented, smiling. “Sturdy walls, even from above its navigational system is unintuitive. Excellent design. Where is the way down?”

“Right here!” Entrapta scooped him up with her hair pulling him over the edge of the cliff. He shouted as she cackled, her hair catching in rungs she’d bolted into the cliff, too far apart for any humanoid arm span but perfect for the length of her pigtails. She pushed off the rock to land on the bridge that connected her tower, only to drop again and corkscrew down its support and onto a rooftop. 

She spun Hordak into her arms, dancing him around as she laughed. “That was fun! I haven’t ever brought another person with me!” 

His ears were waggling in the way they did when he was dizzy — recalibrating the bit of the inner ear that handled balance, she was sure. “Warn me, next time,” he snapped. Even when he got short with her, he didn’t shout and roar like he used to. Softening, Hordak looked aside and added, “But yes. It was. Fun.” 

She cackled and took his hand. “Let me show you around!” Her hair grabbed a hatch in the roof to pull it open and swing them inside, another lock grabbing her pad to pull up a map of the labyrinth. There was so much he had to see. 

Her old lab was in a sorry state. Entrapta had almost completely cleaned it out when she was moving into the Fright Zone, and now she had to frown at the disconcerting sight of an uncluttered workbench. 

“This is way more disappointing than I thought,” she stated, hands on her hips. Her voice rose into a loud groan, lamenting, “I wanted to show you my cool lab!” 

When she sighed and looked at him, she found his eyebrows raised. Entrapta gave a bashful laugh. “When I heard your lab was called your sanctum, I thought it was classy.” She rubs the toe of her boot on the ground, smiling up at him with a blush. Truth be told, she’d gotten a little bit of a crush on him the same day she’d entered his lab. He called it a sanctum and hoarded tech and knowledge of the likes she’d never dreamed of, it was impossible not to get the butterflies. 

It makes him smile, a hand lifting. “I am certain that —” 

A sharp blip! Interrupts him. The smile vanishes, turning to glower at her pad. Entrapta taps the notification, pulling up a video of a balding man in a spiffy-looking suit. 

“Your highness!” The man exclaimed. She saw his eyes flit, how he gave a start when he noticed Hordak at her side. “And — and — o-oh my.” 

Hordak growled until Entrapta pushed him away with her hair. “Hello!” She chirped. “Who are you?”

“I — you don’t —?” He frowned, then shook his head. “Nevermind. I am councilman Wren!” 

“Uh-huh.”

“I… am the head of the Council of Dryl?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I and the other council members are meant to have a meeting with you, today.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“... Could you tell us how to get inside?”

Entrapta gasped. “Oh!” She clapped her hands, squeaking in delight when one of the dusty bots animated. “Go show them inside. Bring them here! No! Bring them to the dining room! Do we have a dining room?” The bot nodded. “Bring them to the dining room! And then bring tiny snacks! From the ship!” 

“Your Highness —” 

She closed the video feed.

For a long moment, Entrapta stared at the black screen. Then she realized she was being stared at, and looked up to see Hordak’s red eyes fixed on her. 

Feeling self-conscious, she hunched her shoulders up. “What?”

Hordak blinked. “Nothing,” he claimed. Then, pausing, corrected, “It is strange to hear them address you in that way.” When Entrapta only cocked her head, he said, “Your Highness. At times I forget…” 

“That I’m a princess?” Her mood plummeted. “I’m not, really. It’s just a title.” 

She hugged herself with one arm, holding onto her own bicep as she shuffled out of the room, the pad guiding them to the dining room she apparently had. Behind her, Hordak stammered through several false starts, never getting more than a word out. 

Entrapta didn’t recognize any of these people. Not their faces, not their names. They all bowed and offered a hand, and only stared at her when she gave them a lock of hair. Bow had kissed it, she remembered, with a pang of first intense fondness and then disappointment. She wished her friends were here. Not because Hordak wasn’t enough, but because the others made it better. 

They sat around a rectangular dining table, as the bots brought out the tiny cupcakes and fizzy drinks she’d stored in the ship. Not a single member of the council touched their food, and even though she had no qualms with popping the sweets into her mouth and lounging in her seat, she couldn’t shake the distinct sensation that she was doing something wrong. 

They’d been droning on about something for way too long. She’d broken out her tool kit to start fixing up the bot’s blinky eye, mask snapped over her face and hair bristling with tools. These old things were charmingly dated compared to what she’d been working with. Not obsolete, she only scrapped things when they could no longer go on, just adorably simple in their design. Hordak had introduced her to a world of new ideas, one that was only expanding with each day — 

“Princess Entrapta!” 

The sudden snap made her jerk upwards, yelping as she rapped her knuckles against the metal eye socket. 

She looked up, searching for the speaker but only finding Hordak glaring across the table. “Lower. Your. Voice,” He growled, and Entrapta found Councilman Spanner shrinking in his chair. In a steadier tone, Hordak looked to her, asking, “Princess Entrapta, what are your thoughts regarding the deconstruction of Horde Prime’s spire in Dryl?”

The title gave her pause. He never used her title that way. A derogatory princess at times — though these days it was teasing — but the sound Princess Entrapta was alien in his voice. She kind of liked it. And she really liked him. 

She curled a lock of hair around his ankle, squeezing it in thanks. “The spire, right!” She chirped. “We are absolutely gonna salvage everything we can. First Ones’ tech is advanced but what Prime was using exceeds even their sophisticated designs. The code they were working with was practically a living creature, it was constantly adapting itself, building and breaking its defenses to an almost unpredictable degree, but as you know true randomness cannot be achieved by —” 

“Anyway,” Councilwoman — Bradawl? — Bradawl cut her off, leaving Entrapta to deflate. “Who are you placing in charge of this project? Who are they hiring? How will they be paid? What precautions should they be taking?” 

“Uh — uhm,” Entrapta raised a hand, but another voice piped up. 

“In addition to that,” Councilwoman Pliyer stood up, hands planted on the table, “What of the towns that were destroyed in Prime’s attack? The refugees in the cities? All of our most critical mines were commandeered in the attack and may be too dangerous to allow citizens to return to work, how do you intend to restore them to functionality?”

“I’m — hold on —” 

“We cannot hold on, Your Highness.” It was Councilman Wren again, voice nervous as he wrung his hands. “I understand you are not suited to this job but the unfortunate fact remains that you are the only heir to the throne of Dryl and without the programs the former king and queen left behind, their responsibilities fall to you.” 

A cold chill poured under her skin. Entrapta hugged herself, hands rubbing up and down her own arms. 

“Your Highness,” Bradawl said, “If I may be frank?” She stared at Entrapta, waiting until she got a nod. “You have not made the best decisions for Dryl in the past —” Her eyes spanned to Hordak, “ — and your citizens lack faith in you. I believe that you must focus on rebuilding your image, while we make sure the cogs are turning smoothly.” She let the words settle.

Entrapta didn’t know what she’d expected to get out of this. She slumped into her seat, staring at her knees. Her nails bit into her skin, dragging scratches up and down her biceps. 

“With all due respect, Princess, I would recommend that you cede these decision-making promises to us — your council — and that you fulfill your duty as the figurehead of Dryl.” Bradawl was smiling, now, voice smooth as silk. “After all, it is hardly as though you were their ruler in the past. There is no need for us to throw Dryl into further turmoil —” 

“That is enough!” 

Hordak was on his feet, slamming his hands down on the table. The council silenced, all eyes on him. Even Entrapta stared. His image was blurred by tears she was barely holding back, but she could see him shaking, the snarl of his teeth, ears pinned back in fury. “Shut your pathetic mouths at once,” he spat. “If I hear another word from you I just may elect to put your tongues to better use as slop for the worms! You. Will. Not disrespect Princess Entrapta in this way. Now be silent, and remove yourselves from her castle at once.” 

There was quiet. Then, Spanner squeaked, “But what of Dryl —” 

Hordak roared and smashed his hand into the table. His claws tore through its cloth and into the wood, splintering around his fingers. The man went pale as the others scrambled to their feet, making a hasty exit without so much as a bot to guide them. 

“Send your requests by message. I see no need for Her Highness to endure the sickness of hearing your voice.” Looming over Spanner, Hordak sent him one scampering for the door. He remained poised over the table — over her — breathing hard and growling with every breath. 

Entrapta burst into tears. 

It welled up too quickly for her to stop, the tears pouring down her face and sobs hitching in her throat. Hordak was there in an instant, snarling violence replaced with a gentle yet faltering voice. “En… Entrapta.” 

Embarrassment flushed her skin, and she reached up to pull her mask over her face. Delicate fingers stopped her, before Hordak spoke again, sounding more certain: “May I hold you?” 

She had to consider it before nodding. Touch was good today. He lifted her into his arms and sank into the chair, holding her in his lap. His claws combed through her hair, awkward at first but gaining a smoother rhythm. 

“Do you…” He trailed off. “Want soup?” 

It caught her so off guard that Entrapta started snort-laughing through her tears. His face went red, ears leveling, his face caught in such goofy embarrassment that she could only laugh harder. 

“You said it makes you feel better!” He growled, defensive. Even the fingers in her hair felt petulant. 

Entrapta sniffed, then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It does, thank you,” she smiled. It crumpled in an instant, the good feelings draining away. “I’m just — they’re right, though.” 

“How are they right?” Hordak glowered at the door they’d run through. “Nothing they said indicated they possessed the brain cells required for critical thought.”

“I’m really not meant for this,” she said. Entrapta arranged herself more comfortably, sitting sideways across his lap, her temple leaned into his shoulder. “I didn’t learn how to be a princess. I’m just going to mess everything up if I try. And I don’t —!” She sat upright, stopped, and slumped against him again. Quieter, she finished, “I don’t even want to do this. I don’t know why I’m all in a tizzy about it.” 

“They were disrespectful,” Hordak insisted. “If ruling is not a position you want, we can figure it out together. Perhaps with… the other princesses.” It came out begrudgingly, and she had to smile. She knew he still felt strange around them. Hordak sighed, then nuzzled into her hair. “We will figure it out. But anyone who attempts to undermine you will be crushed. … In a nonlethal manner.” 

The disappointment in his voice made her break into giggles. She slid her arms around his shoulders, content to just be held for a little while longer. They would figure it out together in time. That was what lab partners were for. 

[cake-writes]

Compromise (Part Seven)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Bucky, Ex-Relationship, Co-Parenting Drama, Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Separation Anxiety

Summary: You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise.

Part Six / Master List / Spotify Playlist

After what felt like hours, you were the proud owner of a brand new Land Rover.

You didn’t really know the details, other than that the vehicle was in your name. Bucky may have paid for it in cash – or a bank transfer, but you didn’t know for sure because he signed most of the paperwork while you made sure Winnie didn’t get into any trouble in the play area. The only thing you signed was the title. He even offered to handle your insurance payments, because they would without a doubt skyrocket and you weren’t exactly confident that you’d be able to afford them.

It was a weird situation, and honestly, you weren’t sure how it made you feel. You were indebted to him, absolutely, but it made you feel… good, for some reason. Like he was taking care of you. Like he was taking care of Winnie.

Maybe because he was.

The ride back to the compound was short and sweet. Bucky streamed Winnie’s cartoon from his phone to the small built-in TV on the back of his seat, and she was absolutely delighted. Kept her busy while you tried to figure out what to say.

A simple ‘thank you’ didn’t seem like enough, but the smile he gave you in return made your heart pound. You turned up the radio to drown out the frenzied rhythm, but you could still hear it in your ears.

After you dropped him off, for the rest of the night all you thought about was him.

Eight o’clock came around and you realized that something was missing. Mr. Squiggles.

You’d been in such a rush – and such a state – to leave for the dealership this morning that you hadn’t double-checked Winnie’s belongings. You’d probably left some other things at Bucky’s, too, but her stuffed unicorn was the one thing she would absolutely have to have tonight. She’d throw a tantrum otherwise.

So you had no choice but to text him. Not that you minded.

You, 8:03pm Sorry, I think we left Mr. Squiggles at your place. Could you please have a look?

Bucky, 8:04pm On it.

A few seconds passed, and then he sent you a photo of it laying atop Winnie’s lavender sheets. Oh, it was a huge relief that it hadn’t gotten lost during the vehicle trade-in. That would have been a nightmare.

You, 8:05pm Thanks so much! We’ll be around shortly.

Bucky, 8:05pm Already out the door. See you soon.

You stared blankly at his text for a few moments.

Bucky was coming over.

He was coming over right now.

He was saving you the trouble of going back to the compound. It would have been a half-hour round trip, not to mention Winnie’s excitement at making another unexpected visit. The two of you had a very specific bedtime routine that you rarely deviated from, otherwise you knew she’d never get to sleep. This was about to be another one of those nights, but Bucky was really saving you a lot of hassle by making the trip himself.

You, 8:06pm Thank you! I’m getting Winnie ready for bed. Key’s under the mat if you want to let yourself in.

And with that, you set your phone down on the bathroom counter to focus on the task at hand.

“Winnie,” you called out, turning on the faucet to the tub. “Bathtime in five minutes.”

“Okay!” came her response from the living room – sweet, but begrudging. She never did like baths, but you found that giving her a five-minute warning helped a lot.

The tub filled quickly, with you checking every so often to make sure the temperature was alright. By the time you managed to corral her into the tub, more than five minutes had passed – not that you noticed. Lots of bubble bath and bath toys kept her entertained while you washed her hair and combed out all of the knots.

Your voices echoed off the tile as the two of you sang her bathtime song, to distract her from the pain of detangling her too-fine hair. You’d never understand how it got knotted so easily. Even with too much conditioner and plenty of detangling spray, it was still a chore to comb out her hair.

Then there was a sudden knock on the bathroom door, to which you jumped and bashed your head on one of the towel racks.

“Ow, Christ,” you swore, holding your aching head.

Bucky’s laughter was clear as day on the other side. “Sorry, doll. Guess you didn’t hear me come in.”

Winnie’s eyes lit up. “Is Daddy here?”

“Yes, Daddy’s here,” you began, but she hopped out of the tub to let him in and you changed your tune completely. “Winnie, honey, we’re not done with your bath—”

She fumbled with the doorknob for a moment before she yanked open the door.

Now, while you didn’t particularly want her trailing water all through the house, the bigger problem was that you were barely dressed. Just a flimsy tank top, no bra, and a pair of plain underwear. That was all. Bathtime got messy, and you didn’t like getting your clothes wet. You had a spare t-shirt and a pair of shorts sitting on the bathroom counter for when he arrived, but you hadn’t put them on yet; hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

Of course, Winnie wasn’t dressed, either, but she was his kid, for one, and for two, she was covered in suds anyway.

“Hi, princess,” he greeted gently, kneeling down to give her a kiss on the forehead. “Look who missed you today!”

When he pulled Mr. Squiggles out from behind his back, Winnie squealed and accepted the stuffed animal from him – and then she took off down the hallway towards her room, naked as the day she was born. Bucky let out a snort of laughter and then, when he finally chanced a look at you, the expression that came over his face made your face flush.

It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t seen all of it before, but the way his eyes trailed down your body made you feel like he hadn’t. He took in every inch of you, every dip and curve and that made you hotter under the collar than it should have.

After a moment or two, however, he finally seemed to come to his senses.

“Shit, sorry,” he stumbled over his words, quickly turning around to give you your privacy. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you reassured him as you pulled on the t-shirt, but your throat was impossibly dry. “Thanks for coming.”

Water dripped from the faucet in a staggered staccato, the only sound save for the rustling of your clothing and Winnie’s quiet giggles down the hallway.

“You… You shouldn’t keep your key under the mat. It’s not safe.”

You glanced up from tying the drawstring on your shorts to find that Bucky had shoved his hands into his pockets, and he was peering up at the ceiling, as if to make a point that he absolutely wasn’t looking. He hadn’t yet changed out of his clothes from today; that plain black t-shirt was still tight as hell, and damn if his ass didn’t look even better in those jeans now than it had earlier.

You swallowed hard, willing your voice not to waver. “Where should I keep it, then?”

“I’ll have a look outside when I go.”

Well, he would know best about this, wouldn’t he?

“Sure,” you said, pulling a towel from the rack. “Thanks. You can look now, I’m decent.”

You still weren’t wearing a bra, but the t-shirt mitigated that a bit. Putting a bra on was too much of a hassle and you were tired. You also had a bunch of other things to do before you went to bed – namely dry Winnie off (because she definitely wasn’t going to come back to the bathtub now), laundry, and lunches for tomorrow.

Bucky made it a point to keep his eyes above your collar this time, but he seemed more amused than anything, even if his cheeks were tinged pink.

“What?” you asked blankly.

“You’ve got bubbles in your hair,” he said with a grin, automatically reaching up to brush them away. He didn’t ask for permission, but he didn’t need it, either.

Your heart skipped a beat at his gentle touch, and that was when you noticed it – tension in the air, tension so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Your skin burned hot wherever he touched: the crown of your head, a stray lock of hair he tucked behind your ear, and finally on your cheek where his hand slowly, hesitantly came to rest against the side of your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone.

Bucky spoke quietly, then, “I really appreciate you trusting me.”

He didn’t just mean with this, but with everything.

His eyes were soft and so, so blue that you just couldn’t handle it – so you shoved the towel at him, and that broke the spell. He immediately let you go in favour of catching it before it hit the ground.

“Do you want to put Winnie to bed?” was all you could manage with your brain short-circuiting.

“Yeah,” he stammered, “Yeah, of course. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks,” you said again, quickly pushing past him to make your way to the kitchen. You could barely breathe, because whenever you inhaled all you could smell was him and he was absolutely intoxicating. “Let me know if you need me.”

Thankfully, he didn’t.

A little after nine o’clock, you finally finished just about everything that needed doing before the morning. Laundry was in the dryer, dishes were done, and lunches were packed – three of them, because you wanted to do something nice for Bucky as a thank you. A couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were nothing in comparison to a six-figure Land Rover, but you did what you could.

Slowly, you cracked open the door to Winnie’s bedroom. Bucky hadn’t yet come out, so you were expecting to find him still reading to her, but he wasn’t. No, he was fast asleep with your daughter curled up into his side. Somehow, he’d wrangled her into her favourite nightie, and a half-open book lay on his chest; he hadn’t gotten very far into it by the looks of it.

It was a comical sight, because Bucky was such a thick, muscular hulk of a man, so much that he took up the majority of Winnie’s big girl bed – baby pink sheets atop a simple twin mattress. It was also incredibly sweet, and you found yourself smiling a little.  

After taking a few quiet steps into the room, you got to the bed and carefully plucked the book from Bucky’s hand. It was another one of her favourites, which you closed and sat on the nightstand.

He’d always been a light sleeper, at least in the time you were together but right now he didn’t seem to be. Even when you pulled a spare blanket from the closet and lay it over him, he didn’t stir at all. You tucked in your little girl, too, and then leaned over her father to press a kiss the crown of her head.

That was what finally seemed to wake him.

His arm slowly slid around your waist, metal cold against the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up, which sent a shiver through you – and then you toppled into bed with him, half on top of him if you were honest with yourself but all you could think about was how good this felt. One of your legs was thrown over his thigh, and the other was wedged between him and the edge of the mattress, holding most of your weight.  

He wasn’t awake at all, you realized. He wouldn’t do this without permission.

“Bucky,” you whisper-shouted at him. “Bucky, wake up.”

But he didn’t. No, instead he grumbled something inaudible and buried his face in your neck. His hot breath fanned against your sensitive skin, to which you grit your teeth at the pleasant feeling.

God, this felt good. When was the last time you slept with someone? Both literally and figuratively. 

“Bucky,” you tried again, just a little louder and with your free hand you dug your fingers into his ribs. Corded muscle jumped beneath your fingertips, but he still didn’t budge.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to your fate – not that you minded, truth be told – and you fished your phone out of your pocket to make sure he wasn’t going to miss any early-morning missions if he slept here overnight. A quick text to Steve would hopefully do the job.

You, 9:11pm Does Bucky need to be anywhere in the morning?

A couple of minutes passed, during which you made yourself a little more comfortable. Bucky’s grip around your waist had loosened enough for you to shift to a less awkward position, but you still couldn’t get out entirely. He had you well and truly trapped – except, well, he didn’t. Not really. 

If you wanted to, you definitely could have woken him up. You could have bit him. Scratched him. Kissed him, even, if you had to. There were plenty of ways to wake him up, but you only made a couple of half-assed attempts.

Why?

Steve, 9:15pm Not that I know of.

You, 9:16pm Thanks!

Steve, 9:16pm Why?

With a yawn, you set your alarm and then dropped your phone down on the bedside table. Bucky could have the honours of explaining this to his best friend. Tomorrow was going to be a mess, but that was a problem for the morning. Not for tonight. Not when you were so tired of fighting.

Maybe you could be a little selfish. Winnie slept like a log, after all, and you always woke up before her.

This was harmless. 

Right?

Your heart was racing, as were your thoughts, but all you could think about was how good it felt to be in his arms again, how comfortable it was to rest your head on his chest, how nice it would be to fall asleep to his steady heartbeat.

And it was.

Interlude #2

[sherlockfanficwriting]

Sherlock “Save her” (x reader)

Summary - You’re Sherlock’s friend and you are each other’s world. Carelessly you roam around in town one day. You are kidnapped by Jim Moriarty and soon forced to jump to your death. Will Sherlock find you? If he does, will it be too late?

Warnings - drowning, some violence 

A/N - This is a good story, one of my favorites that I have written so far. If you guys like it tell me and send some requests!

“(Y/N), I can’t understand how you love looking at dead bodies!” Sherlock cried to you as the two of you walked to his flat. It was a beautiful rainy day. You had been on a case with Sherlock for most of it and were tired.

“Do not twist my words! I said they’re interesting!” You said, playfully pushing his arm. 

“Come on, take me!” Sherlock yelled, spreading his arms, taunting you to throw a punch. 

“Oh, not now, when you’re least expecting it I will. After all, I’m smarter than you.” 

Sherlock scoffed. For the whole year that you had known him, you swept him off his feet when you first met. Your intelligence, it was not like his because it was a different kind. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he liked it. He didn’t know what you were, but he knew that he really liked you. 

“You’re smart. Very smart. I’ll give you that,” he said smiling. You saw his flat in the distance and it started to rain harder. You sprinted to it, leaving Sherlock in the dust. You were a very fast runner and loved doing this randomly to him. You opened the door and bolted upstairs, practically tripping down on the floor. 

“Sherlock?” John cried from inside. 

“Not him,” you said. 

“You okay?” He asked, walking to you. You hopped up. 

Before you could say anything Sherlock came running in and said, “I’ll beat you one day.” 

John looked confused. “Beat her? In what?” 

“Karate,” you said, causing Sherlock and you to erupt in laughter. 

“That’s it. I’ll be in my room,” John said, walking away. 

“Nice to see you too John!” You cried out. 

“He hates us,” Sherlock said to you in a low voice. 

“I heard that!” John cried from away. You smiled at Sherlock. He was like your twin. You had so much in common and you loved being together doing random things. 

“I should probably leave,” you told him, adjusting your crossbody. Sherlock looked up at you, almost sadly. 

“Are you sure? It’s not the best weather. We can have a violin contest.” 

You shook your head. As much as you wanted to stay, you wanted to take a long walk and get yourself lost. You loved to be with Sherlock, but you needed some time to yourself to just be free and think. Letting your mind wander. 

“Tomorrow? I know you’re busy with that guy, uh James?” 

“Jim Moriarty. “You’re right. It’s not easy, but I’m working on him,” he said making a small space with his thumb and index finger, “I’m this close.” 

You nodded. You knew he worked hard especially for that horrible man. It didn’t make sense to you, the whole crime stuff and hacking and killing. It was horrible, but at least Sherlock liked to do it. 

“I’ll see you later, Sherlock.” You backed up to the door. 

“Text me if you need anything.” 

You turned around about to walk out, but Sherlock said, “Where are you going now?” 

You stopped. “Just out and about really.” 

“Sounds boring. Be safe,” he said, waving to you. You skipped down the steps and into the London rain. It was a steady rain, but it didn’t bother you much. The sky was darkening, but slow. You figured you had time to walk by the river and explore wherever your legs took you. 

You walked down alleys, foreign roads, by tourists, and made sure you were immensely lost. There was no fun in walking around the same part of town that you knew so well. There weren’t many people around, but the ones you passed looked rather....sketchy. You tried not to pay much attention to them, but couldn’t help feeling in danger. You brushed it off as being paranoid, something that happened quite often. You thought you looked vulnerable. You were wearing loose black pants, a white blouse, and a black blazer with navy flats. If anyone saw you they knew you didn’t belong in this part. Worst of all you didn’t have your knife. That knife was important to you. It kept you out of trouble, cut things for you, and made you feel safe. It was like a large knife, but a small sword. You had left it in your own apartment, which was god knows, miles away from where you were. You continued walking on when all of a sudden you heard loud footsteps behind you. 

You whipped your head around, startled. You couldn’t see them well and realized how dark it was. The sky was a dark blue, preventing you from making out who this person was. You faced forward, brushing it off and sped up your walking. The person behind you did the same. You were now certain that they were following you. 

You stopped walking and faced them. 

“Do you need anything?” You asked. They took a step closer to you. They were about two inches taller than you with a slim figure. Wore dark clothes and had dark hair. Pale skin. You couldn’t make out his facial features much. 

“Yes, in fact, I do,” he said. He didn’t have a British accent. You weren’t British yourself and you found it difficult to pinpoint what European accent some people had. It sounded like American but had a twist. It wasn’t Canadian, maybe Northern European. You didn’t know. 

“Well, what is it? I don’t have much money, but you can have it,” you said to him, trying to remain calm. 

He laughed. A deep sadistic laugh. “No, dear. I need you.” 

You panicked. You turned around and started to run, but a pair of strong arms stopped you from doing so. They lifted you off the ground, squeezing you hard. You flung your legs around, going crazy. Then you started to scream. His hand covered your mouth, preventing you, and he put something around your nose while he did so. Your eyes became weaker as did your body and you soon collapsed. 

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

You woke up and quickly opened your eyes, trying to see where you were. Soon, the past events came flooding back to you. You looked around the room. Bright room. Bright lights. You were lying down on the floor, surprisingly no restraints. You knew you had to remain calm, you had to do whatever you could do to survive. It was probably morning already. You must had been knocked down for hours. 

You got up slowly and walked around the room. 

“Hello?” You cried out. 

“Why hello, (Y/N),” the same man said. You turned around. He was standing in the corner of the room as if he had emerged from thin air. 

“Please, don’t hurt me. Why am I here? What did I do?” You pleaded. 

He moved closer to you. “Oh, you? Nothing. Sherlock, something.” 

“Sherlock? What has he got to do with this?” 

“I’m Jim Moriarty.” His voice echoed through the room. You shivered when you heard those words and remembered Sherlock talking about him. He was a dangerous man. He was trying to stop him. 

“I-I what do you need?” 

“I told you. You.” His voice was deeper and more serious. At this point, you were frightened and wondered if Sherlock knew something was wrong.

“I’m here.” You stated blankly.  

“I’m aware. You,” he said, pointing at you childishly, “are going to come with me. He walked faster toward you and grabbed your wrist forcefully. You let him, there was no point in fighting back at this point. He swung open the door and walked up a flight of steep steps. You didn’t know where you were going. The hallway and stairs were dark. His grasp on your wrist tightened, causing you to succumb to the pain. 

You reached the top and he bolted open a ceiling door. He stepped up dragging you with him. You were at the roof. It was morning. The cold air made you more alert. You were more frightened. Why were you on a roof. He let go of your wrist, but stood close to you, staring you down. Suddenly he took out a phone from his pocket. Your phone.

“Let’s get Sherlock here,” he said, flashing a picture of you. 

“Done.” He threw the phone over the roof. You ran over. The building was right on the edge of the river where it landed. You swallowed. There was something seriously wrong with this man. 

“Let’s have some fun.” He clapped his hands together.  

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

“Sherlock you got a text,” John said, holding a cup of tea. Sherlock was sitting down, looking through a microscope. 

“Who’s it from?” He asked. 

John looked at the phone. 

“It’s (Y/N).” 

Sherlock snapped up and took the phone. He opened the message. A picture of you, mostly your face. Your eyes, always bright and lively, looked sad. You weren’t normal. Your lips, slightly quivered. Your expression. Always happy and charming was different. Your skin, pale, looked cold. The wind blew a few strands of hair in your face. But, most importantly, you didn’t take the picture.

Sherlock quickly put his jacket on. John didn’t question him, but followed. As he flew down the steps and onto the street, he glanced at the photo again. Water in the background. Down below. You were on a roof. He called for a taxi, his mind thinking about scenarios and how to get to you. 

“Kidnapped?” John asked. 

“Moriarty.” 

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

“Today, you are dying. Quite soon actually.” Moriarty’s voice didn’t even instill fear in you anymore. You had established the fact that you would get hurt badly or probably die soon anyway. You felt no more emotion except the longing for Sherlock. 

“How? How am I going to die?” 

Moriarty walked closer to you, his hand on your back leading you to the edge of the roof. 

“Water.” 

Chills went up to your spine. You couldn’t swim. How did he know this? You couldn’t fight him. He had thousands of backup plans. He would just shoot you or throw you off point-blank. Hundreds of memories and emotions flashed through your head. It was like your life was flashing back, but you did it voluntarily. 

“Can I call him?” You pleaded to him. 

“Please do. He’s on his way.” He handed you his own phone and you dialed his number, pressing the phone against your ear. It didn’t even ring before Sherlock picked up. 

“(Y/N), what’s he doing. Are you hurt? We’re coming,” Sherlock’s voice boomed. 

“I’m fine, but it’s no use. I’ll be gone shortly.” Your voice quivered. Fear snuck up on you again. 

“What? No, you don’t do anything and stay there.” 

“Sherlock, I can’t. I love you, I really do. Just don’t bother. I’m so sorry, I have to do this. He’s making me.” 

“(Y/N), wa-.” You hung up and handed him back his phone. 

“Now is time. This will ruin Sherlock forever. Just my plan.” He motioned you to step on the ledge. You did. You looked out. You could see the long dark river and the buildings across. You didn’t know what drowning would be like, but you tried not to think about it as you would find out soon. You took a minute to gather your thoughts before you did so. 

“Time is ticking. You have 30 seconds or I’ll push you.” 

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

“Stop the car!” Sherlock cried, sprinting out. He knew where you were. He was three blocks away but he could see you from the top. He was on the bridge. Close enough, but far. He didn’t know what to do. 

“Please stay up longer, please,” he said. He sprinted down the bridge and into the street, desperate to get to you. He knew you couldn’t swim. His legs carried him fast across the city. Desire pumping through his body. 

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

“Your time is up.” 

You didn’t notice it but you were crying. You looked down at the water. Hard dark waves splashed against the building. You stood up straight, counting down. You kept a happy thought in your head. Sherlock. He would be the last thing you would think about. You closed your eyes, slightly extended your arms and jumped off. You landed in the cold water and opened your eyes. You were sinking and flailed your arms around. It just made it harder. You were panicking. Your strength was lost and the water began to overcome you. You held your breath as you sunk fast. Your eyes were closed. Terror flooded over your body. You breathed in water, but it suffocated you. Soon your arms and legs stopped moving as you were just a lifeless body drifting away. 

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

Sherlock sprinted through the streets, eager to get to you. Adrenaline rushed through his whole body. He was scared. He predicted you had already jumped and he was right. He knew you didn’t have much time. He saw the building in the distance and ran faster to it. When he reached it he ran along the alley leading to the back. He looked up at the spot where you were standing and predicted your jump. He stared at the water for a moment, about to jump in, and prepared himself. You were all he loved and he realized it. His will to fight, not just for you, was something you both shared, but you were in your weakness. Water. 

Without hesitation, he hopped on the ledge and dove in the water. He started swimming underwater, arms extended trying to feel for you. He couldn’t find you. He swam deeper and deeper everywhere, fiercely searching. It took him a minute, but he felt something familiar. Your hair. He traced it to your body and wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body up. 

“(Y/N)!” He screamed. Your head just moved lifelessly around. He looked at the ledge again, trying to figure out how to get you on land.

A ladder. 

He swam quickly to it, holding you close. 

“Sherlock!” John screamed. He was right above the ladder. Sherlock reached it and stepped carefully but quickly on the step. John stepped closer, extending his arms for your lifeless body. Sherlock ran up the steps and kneeled next to you. 

John did so too, trying to feel for a pulse. He shook his head, trying not to cry. Sherlock began pressing on your chest, trying to start your heartbeat. He did so firmly and never stopped. He wouldn’t let Moriarty win. Not you. He breathed into your mouth and back into pushing. He kept his eyes fixed on you. Your lips, red, were turning purple from the cold. Your skin was white and paler. Your lively eyes shut close. This wasn’t going to be how he remembered you last. He knew you could overcome this. You were like him. 

You inhaled air fast and your upper body rose from the ground. You choked out water. You didn’t know what happened. Sherlock, who was crying, wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his face in you. John held your hand. You focused on your breathing. You felt weak, but you remembered Sherlock just saved your life. How would you thank him? You couldn’t believe it. 

“Sherlock,” you said. 

He directed his gaze on you, holding your body up from hitting the ground. 

“I really do love you.” You hugged him and kissed his cheek. He did so back and embraced you, warming your cold body. You didn’t want to move. You only wanted to be by him and stay in that position forever. He was your world, and you were his. He didn’t let his cherished world die. 

[vannahfanfics]

Little Drummer Boy

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo, Nejiro Hado

Requested By: Triton0501 (FanFiction) 

"Congratulations on your victory, Nejire!" 

"Kyaaa! Nejire-senpai, you looked so beautiful during the pageant!" 

"Look! Look! It's Nejire Hado! Isn't she so pretty?" 

Nejire tried not to let her ego inflate after several days of hearing nothing but compliments and squeals wherever she walked. Alas, it was difficult not to feel at least a little pleased with so much positive attention! With a serene smile gracing her face and her chin primly raised, Nejire basked in the praise as she strolled through the halls of U.A. High School. As usual, Mirio and Tamaki accompanied her. Typically, the three hero hopefuls would retire to their dormitory or take to the town, but this day was a bit of a deviation. The three of them were headed to Class 1-A's dormitory to visit the rescued orphan, Eri. 

Normally Mirio would jaunt off to visit the girl by himself, but as of late, Nejire had been accompanying him as well. Being such a young and impressionable lady, Eri deserved a female role model whom she could approach for issues she may not be comfortable discussing with Mr. Aizawa, Izuku Midoriya, or Mirio. Though still a long way from her turbulent teens, a little girl Eri's age still possessed a plethora of girls' issues, like crushes and identity and the pros and cons of princesses, that Nejire was more equipped to handle. The boys were at least very willing to dress up in pink tutus and cram around Eri's tiny tea table for a bit of play-pretend. Nejire's mind soon became absorbed by the adorable little girl, and she quite forgot about all the big hullabaloo until Tamaki spoke. 

"E-everyone seems quite taken with you ever since the pageant," he said with that quivering frown that Nejire found charmingly adorable. She laughed daintily and flipped her periwinkle hair over a shoulder. 

"Yes, it's quite lovely! Though, I do wish they would show as much appreciation for the other contestants. I won, but everyone is deserving of praise!" she smiled radiantly. Nejire wanted to avoid all the compliments from rushing to her head, of course, but that didn't mean her statement was fluff. All those who participated were brave for putting themselves out there. Thus, she made a point to say so every once in a while just to remind people. 

"Yep, yep. Very true," Mirio quipped as he scrolled through his social media feed. The blonde's favorite pastime was brushing up on the latest hero news; he and Izuku often spiraled into in-depth, enthusiastic discussions about various articles. Nejire thought it quite endearing. Mirio suddenly stopped walking, frowning at his phone screen. Nejire peeked over his shoulder to blatantly read it, finding that he was texting Mr. Aizawa. 

"Aw! They're gonna be late?" Nejire pouted. She had been very much looking forward to painting Eri's nails, but it seemed Aizawa was hung up in a board meeting. He often took the child with him to his office hours and meetings; she needed a change of environment now and again. She usually sat at his feet, coloring the cat-themed coloring book Denki Kaminari had bought him for a joke. Mirio and Nejire had burst into laughter when they'd learned he'd kept it, for how else could he pass it on to the small girl? 

"Yup," Mirio frowned and closed out of the conversation. Tamaki frowned and began to fidget. 

"Sh-should we go to our dorms and wait for them?"

"Nah," Mirio shrugged and resumed his leisurely pace. "We're nearly there, so we can just bug the first-years until they arrive!"

"Ooh! Ooh! I call Bakugo!" Nejire trilled and lunged forward into a sprint. The volatile boy had caught Nejire's eye when she viewed the playbacks of the first-years' Sports Festival, but her interest had truly been piqued during class 1-A's musical performance at the recent school showcase. Nejire was simply dying to converse with the boy, for he seemed like he would be so much fun to tease and coddle! Oh, she could imagine the blush alighting his scowling face already… 

Teehee! He's such a cutie! I bet he's got that big tough exterior but is a total softie inside! she thought giddily, sticking out the tip of her tongue as she hopped up the steps of the dormitory. She pushed the doorbell buzzer, holding it for a few seconds, before unabashedly throwing the front door open. "Hellooooooo, everyonnnnne~" she sang jubilantly and spun on her foot with a flourish. Twenty pairs of eyes peeked at her from the common room couches. 

"O-oh! Nejire!" Izuku finally squeaked and hopped up from his seat in the armchair. Mirio and Tamaki had finally caught up, and so Izuku's pine green eyebrows crept further up his forehead. "Oh! You're all here! Mr. Aizawa and Eri are hung up in a faculty meeting…" 

"We know!" Nejire smiled as she skipped over to the sofas, clasping her hands behind her back with a gleeful bounce of her body. "We were already here, though, so we thought we would check how our cutie-patooties are doing!" She giggled. Izuku flushed and fiddled with his fingers as he delved into anxious mumbles about training and grades. Mineta leaped from the couch to cling to her thigh, drooling, and Nejire discreetly flung him into the kitchen. No one seemed to react to his pained scream or the sound of several boxes tumbling on top of him. Beaming, Nejire raised her hands to press her fingertips together. "I was so very impressed with the concert you all put on! It was a smash hit!"

"Really? That's awesome!" The adorable little electric boy, Denki, grinned as he draped himself over the back of the couch. He nearly fainted when Nejire patted him cutely on the head. He was as much of a skirt-chaser as Mineta, but at least he had some sense of social etiquette and boundaries. 

"Mhmm!" Nejire nodded as she skirted the coffee table, blue eyes locked on a certain blond ignoring the conversation. With a disinterested frown, the boy tapped his phone screen repeatedly, obviously playing some sort of mobile game. "In fact, I was most impressed by your talented drummer!" She smiled. Katsuki's crimson eyes slowly drifted to her as she perched herself on the arm of the sofa closest to him. Daintily crossing her legs and resting her cheeks in her hands, she fluttered her eyelashes demurely. "I would be oh-so-honored if he could teach me how to play!"

Wearing a concerted frown, Tenya Iida leaned in to whisper in Mirio's ear, "Is she… flirting?"

"Nah. Nejire's just like that," the blonde shrugged nonchalantly. Then, a second later, he narrowed his eyes and frowned. "At least, I don't think she's trying to flirt," he added uncertainly. Katsuki continued to glare silently at Nejire, while she just stared brightly back. 

"Can I help you?" The ash-blond growled gruffly. 

"I said-" 

"I heard what you said, Tinkerbell," Katsuki snarled, dropping his phone into his lap and sitting up to bring his face close to hers. Nejire did not retreat from his boldness, only smiled wider. 

"If you heard me, then why'd you ask?" The corner of his mouth twitched, and she wasn't sure if he wanted to scowl or smirk. His red eyes traveled the planes of her face for a few brief seconds before he snorted seditiously and stood from the couch to start heading for his room. Nejire dourly pursed her lips, thinking him to be annoyed. She raised her eyebrows when he glowered over his shoulder at her. 

"Well? You comin' or not, Tinkerbell?"

Squealing with delight, Nejire hopped down from the couch and scampered after him. Her periwinkle hair swished behind her as she scuttled along, flashing Mirio and Tamaki a victorious wink as she passed them. The other first-years were in various stages of shock as they watched Katsuki lead Nejire upstairs. As she turned the corner of the landing, she heard Mina cry, "Pardon my French, but what the hell just happened?!" followed by Aoyama muttering, "That wasn't French." Nejire snickered and hopped up a few of the steps so that she walked in pace with the explosive blond. He clicked his tongue and glared at her out of his peripheral vision.

"What's that look for?" she inquired innocently.

"Enough of the cutesy act, Tinkerbell. What's your game?" Nejire blinked puzzledly. To be honest, she hadn't thought she would get this far; although flustering had been her initial motive, the new development certainly wasn't unwanted. Nejire loved to try new things, so her pleas to play the drums were honest. 

"There's no game!" she insisted with a serene smile. "I really was impressed by your skills and just want to try it out, that's all." Katsuki stared at her a moment, searching her face for a lie, but of course, he couldn't find one in her pretty visage. With a small tch, he stopped to push open a door with a sign that read, "Keep out or die!" 

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with." Trilling while she bundled past him, Nejire began messing with various things in his room. She found his All Might tee-shirt collection particularly cute. "Oi! Stop snoopin' in my closet and get over here!" He growled. She looked over her shoulder to find him hunched by the drum set in the corner of the room, pink-faced. He seemed equally embarrassed and irate, and it put an adorable little pout on his face. Obediently, Nejire dropped the tee-shirt she had been admiring to skip over. With pink cheeks, he gestured to the small stool seated among the large drums. "Well, go on." 

Nejire plopped down in the seat and picked up the sleek black drumsticks neatly laid over the set. She experimentally clacked them together a few times, remarking their thin yet sturdy structure. She then slammed one down on the cymbals, making Katsuki curse loudly and jump nearly a foot in the air. 

"I've always wanted to do that!" She beamed. The tapped the end of the drumstick lightly on one of the drums. The deep bass tune that followed made her eyes widen in admiration. "This is so cool!" she squealed and wriggled about on the seat. 

"You are remarkably easy to impress," Katsuki remarked with an amused smirk. "But come on, I said I was gonna show you how to play properly, so, shaddup and listen." His voice carried that hard edge that was notably Katsuki Bakugo, but it also possessed a soft undertone that hadn't been present before. Patiently, he instructed her through a simple beat, explaining to her when to push the pedals or strike the drums. She stumbled a few times, and though Katsuki would click his tongue and chastise her, it wasn't without a degree of amusement and affection. After some time, Nejire was able to play the tune with no guidance. She grinned animatedly as she drummed the sticks across the set to produce a joyful, energetic sound, finishing it off with a strike of the cymbals. 

"Ahaha! Look at me!" She squealed. Katsuki leaned against the wall beside her, arms crossed and smirking warmly. She whirled in the chair to smile brightly at him. "Thank you! It was enjoyable!" A pink haze rose to his cheeks, and he scratched at the stubby hairs at the base of his neck. 

"Not like I had much choice. You woulda relentlessly nagged me about it." The words seemed harsh, but the delivery cushioned the angry connotation with soft fondness. A smile tugged upwards on the corners of Katsuki's lips. I think he really enjoyed this too! she thought giddily and hopped up from the chair. 

"Yup! I sure would have." 

"Pushy, aren't'cha, Tinkerbell?" She smiled and pushed one of her cheeks inward with her index finger. 

"Yep! That's me, Little Drummer Boy!" Katsuki bristled at the ad-libbed nickname.

"Oi! Who're you callin' 'little'?" Nejire ignored his fuming to resume poking around his room, poring over his surprisingly articulate class notes and flipping through the channels on his radio-slash-alarm clock. Katsuki followed her around the room, scowling and loudly chastising her, but he made no physical move to stop her. It was only when she wriggled into one of his hoodies that he actually questioned her. "I showed you the drums, so why're you still here?" He whined while tugging on the hood of the jacket in an attempt to tease it off her shoulders. Nejire slid her arms out of it and darted to his desk, picking up a pencil and putting it atop her pursed lips like a mustache. 

"I'm trying to kill the boredom waiting for Eri, and you're very entertaining!" she explained while twisting the end of the pencil like a cheesy comic book villain. Katsuki scowled and plopped down on the edge of his bed. 

"Oh, that's nice. So I'm Tinkerbell's little toy, huh?" Nejire blinked and let the pencil fall to the floor, surprised by his tone of loathing and hurt. 

"No, of course not! You're my friend, right?" He stared up at her, taken aback. Nejire beamed and skipped over to throw herself down on the bed beside him. She laid on her stomach with her heels kicked up over her back. She plucked at some of the fuzzy fibers on his comforter. "I like you!" The bold and unabashed statement made his cheeks flush red. "I think you're interesting, so I want to get to know you. The perfect opportunity has presented itself, that's all." She rolled onto her side, holding up her head with a hand. "Teasing you is just part of the fun! <3"

"You're a diabolical woman," Katsuki snorted, but Nejire was relieved to see that the tension had melted from his shoulders, and that snarky smile was back on his face. The blue-haired girl giggled and stuck out her tongue playfully. She then whined loudly when he pinched the end of it between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Nnnh! Nnh! Le' go, Ka'suki! T'at feelth weird!" she protested, shaking her head back and forth a little. Katsuki laughed loudly and tugged on the pink organ.

"Ha! Not so fun when the tables are turned on you, huh?" he chided playfully. Nejire slapped at his biceps and shoulder with another keening whine. After another tug, he released her. She wiped away the drool that had pooled in the corner of her mouth. 

"You big meanie!"

"I'm only givin' ya a taste of your own medicine, Tinkerbell!" he shot back, grinning challengingly. His cry was muffled when Nejire grabbed his pillow and whacked him in the face with it. Hurriedly, she tried to scramble from the bed and flee, but he yanked her back by her ankle and made her belly-flop to the floor. She giggled piercingly when he lobbed the pillow at the back of her head. "You're a handful! How do those two put up with you?" 

"They find me charming and endearing!" She answered as she hugged the pillow and rolled onto her belly. Katsuki rolled his eyes and lounged back against his headboard with his hands behind his head, ignoring the sheets Nejire had tousled in her escape attempt. 

"You're like a toddler." 

"You're still putting up with me, though!" A blush rose to his cheeks, and he chittered his teeth, gaze sliding away from her. Still snuggling the pillow, Nejire jumped up and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. "I betcha Eri and Mr. Aizawa are here now!" She said and unceremoniously tossed the pillow at Katsuki. He caught it with a surprised look. "Can I come back again to learn more about the drums, Little Drummer Boy?"

"Uh, sure, but-" he began as she ran to his bedroom door to throw it open. She paused when he shouted at her to wait. Blinking, she stood in the threshold. He tossed the pillow aside and crawled off the bed to walk towards her. He hesitated for a moment, grimacing, before he reached up to gently tuck a piece of her periwinkle hair behind her ear. "... See ya around, Tinkerbell," he muttered in a small voice. His face burned red as he trained his gaze on his sneakers. 

"Teehee! See ya later!" she smiled and, on a whim, leaned in to peck him on the cheek. He sputtered a surprised obscenity and jerked back, pinwheeling his arms. He lost his balance and landed on his rump. His face burned the crimson color of his eyes, and he held his palm to the cheek she had kissed. "Toodles~" Nejire trilled jovially and flashed him a wink before skipping off down the hall. She hummed contentedly as she jaunted down the stairs; she was quite pleased with the way everything had turned out. Now, however, she was switching gears to big sister mode. She had come here to play with Eri, after all! 

Still, she thought with a coy smile and a glance up the steps, I definitely wouldn't mind coming back to see Bakugo again sometime soon! I knew he was a big ol' softie! 

She retrieved the bottle of nail polish she had tucked into her uniform pocket just as she rounded the stairs to see Eri running up to Izuku and Mirio. But first, very important business to attend to!

Sorry, Little Drummer Boy! You'll have to wait your turn!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

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