#i remember when i was first watching it while it was coming out i would CONSISTENTLY daydream about being launched into space

[awordsmith]

tangled up 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you and Spencer join forces to babysit both Jack and Henry.

who? spencer x bau!reader  when? s6 category: novella content warnings: not proofed, contains nothing but pure fluff, reader and spencer get mistaken as Jack and Henry's parents... reid with warmth !!  word count: 4.9k a/n: first novella fic whaaaa....i've been wanting to write this one for a while, but i knew it wouldn't be that long, so this is perfect for my first novella fic!!; enjoy!

The morning was cold and frosty, and the only thing able to mend it: a large, hot latte. Hotch approached your desk as you set your things down. He leaned over and whispered conspicuously, “Are you sure you can come tonight?”

You rolled your eyes and whispered back, just as secretive, and perhaps some more to show how dramatic he was being, “Yes, Hotch,” you saluted him, “Jack will be in good hands.”

A gruff sound came from his throat–as if signifying his disbelief, “If you say so, do you remember what time?”

“Hotch?”

He looked around, glancing back at you with pressed lips. “Yeah?”

“I got this,” you pushed his hand–gripping your desk–off.

“Right,” he nodded, “no I know.”

You raised a brow and crossed your arms, “so why are you stalling? Is this about your date? Because if you don’t want to go–”

“No,” he dusted his suit off, “I’m–I’m walking away.”

“Uh-huh,” you biot back a smile, feeling Spencer slide up next to you, “and what was that all about?” He kept his inquisitive gaze on your boss.

“Hotch had a date,” you stated, turning to look at him, “I’m babysitting Jack.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded–but when Penelope called you to the roundtable room and you began to walk away with her, you could hear him mutter, “Why didn’t he ask me?”

JJ rushed in, she apologized for being late as she took her seat. The team watched her; she was flushed, but her face showed clear urgency. She rolled her eyes, “Please do not question me today, I already have enough explaining to do.”

It was silent, but then you just couldn’t help yourself, “...JJ?” She looked at you with a slight warning, but you still asked, “What happened?”

The air in the room evaporated as JJ sucked in a breath, then deflated against her chair, throwing her head back, “Henry’s babysitter quit this morning.” You kept quiet, waiting for her to elaborate. “Will and I were going to go out tonight, we’ve been planning this for weeks now.” she huffs, running a hand through her hair.

Spencer caught your eyes, and though you shook your head, knowing it’d be a bad idea, he still said, “Well, hey, you know I could watch him for you–if you still wanted to go.”

JJ raised a brow and began to shake her head slowly, “I don’t know, Spence–”

“I wouldn’t be alone,” you noted Hotch raising an eyebrow as Spencer motioned toward you, “— is watching Jack, we could babysit them together.”

JJ glanced at you, then at Hotch–hopeful, “Would you both be okay with that?”

Hotch eyes Spencer’s grin for a moment, “Fine, but — has to keep an eye on Reid too.”

“Uh–what?” Spencer threw his arms up, “I’m a great babysitter–are you laughing?” He glared slightly at Morgan.

“Sure you are,” you reached over and patted the top of his hand, you held his gaze for a split second–the both of you trying to hold in your laughter.

You could hear giggling inside. Jack clung to Hotch, he was eight, and yet he still adored his father. The night was young, but starting to grow darker. Today, you had only been called to air a case, so you worked from the office, which you didn’t have the pleasure of doing most days, making it pretty unique.

“Oh, hey guys,” Spencer called, walking up behind you. You frowned, noting his relaxed attire.

“And I didn’t think you owned anything but sweater vests.”

He sighed, “Oh–you just had to comment.”

“That I did,” you nodded, “that I did.”

The front door opened right as Hotch checked his wristwatch, “you guys made it!”

“Would you believe it? Hotch hasn’t canceled yet.”

Your boss glared at you, but your remark earned chuckles from the others, “Yep, and I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.”

JJ stepped out of the house and moved aside, “come on in.” Henry popped his little head out from behind Will and motioned for Jack to follow.

Hotch leaned to the side, eyes only leaving Jack once the boys disappeared behind a corner. “Okay,” JJ approached you, hands on your shoulders, “I am trusting you.”

“Hey–uhm Hi!” Spencer waved, sticking his head over your shoulder, “I’m here too.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m telling her to be careful.”

After a bit of teasing Spencer, Hotch, Will, and JJ left in their cars. “Come, on, it’s freezing out here,” you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your zip-up.

“Let the night begin…”

Spencer stayed, feet glued to the floor for a moment as he watched you wander into the house. He couldn’t help the small smile that grazed his face; he covered it with a hand, closing the door behind him.

Inside you were asking the boys what they wanted to do. Hotch had picked you up from your apartment and you, him, and Jack drove over together–so when Henry suggested the movie theatre, you could only glance at Spencer, wondering if he’d be willing to drive.

He huffed, rolled his eyes, and fell back on the couch in the living room. “We can see what movies are playing, I guess.”

You huffed a laugh and gripped the couch with both hands as you learned over it, watching Jack and Hnery jump on top of Spencer.

“Okay, okay.” He pushed Henry’s foot out of his face and shot you a look when he heard you cover up a snort with a cough.

Upon scrolling through the nearest movie theatre, you found the newest Spider-Man movie was playing, but you had already missed the 7 o’clock one and the next showing was at 8:30. You, Spencer, and the boys agreed to that time, which left you about an hour before you had to leave. Spencer offered to pay and though you had debated with him about going half–he insisted.

You agreed, but only if he let you pay for the snacks. Spencer wasn’t a boyfriend and he wasn’t one of the girls, so it felt weird letting him pay for everything. He was older than you yes, but only by a couple of years, and though you had to remind him of that several times, he never once failed to pull that card over on you.

“What’s that?” Spencer motioned toward the bag you had brought–that you were now unloading on the kitchen counter.

“Ingredients,” you shrugged, “it isn’t real babysitting if you don’t bake something.”

“You bake?” He sat up, throwing something on the television to distract the boys before he made his way toward you.

You brushed it off, “Somewhat.”

“Okay,” he nodded, rounding the counter and meeting your hip with his, “so what are we baking tonight?”

“We?” You raised a brow. He nodded, lips forming a thin line to suppress a grin. “Oh, no,” you huffed a laugh, “we are not–do you even know kitchen etiquette?”

His face scrunched up, “I’m a quick learner.”

“Sarcastic Spencer never fails to amuse me.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, “what’s first?”

You shook your head, a grin escaping you. You snatched the butter he had picked up and smacked him on the shoulder as you went to go find a bow for it, “Wash your hands.” 

“Something smells good.” Jack rounded the counter.

“That would be the cookies.” You spun around and bent to your knees, pulling the oven open. 

“When’s the movie?” Henry came waddling in, Spencer not too far behind.

You glanced at him, expecting him to answer for the both of you. You smiled to yourself, pulling off the oven mitts when he said, “uh…we have about five more minutes before we should leave.”

You nodded and began searching for a container to put the cookies in, “boys, do you wanna go outside and help Uncle Spencer start the car?”

“Awesome!” Henry shouted, running off to find his coat.

“Can we really start the car?” Jack looked between you and Spencer.

“Of course,” you smiled, nodding.

“Cool,” he too ran off.

“If either of them wrecks my car, I’m holding you responsible.” He jabbed a warning finger in your direction.

You scoffed, wiping your hands on a rag, “right. Spencer, you drive a van.”

“An SUV,” he corrected.

“Yeah, well, you don’t seem the type to care about messing things up.”

He held a hand to his chest, mock hurt flashing across his face, “–and what is that supposed to mean.”

You shrugged, but a cheeky smile pulled your lips upward.

“I’ll see you in the car,” he wandered off in search of the boys. You grabbed three cookies and set them aside on a napkin.

When you walked toward the door, you found Spencer and the boys already secure in the car. You locked the door and made your way down the drive.

“I have something delicious,” you handed each boy a cookie, promising to help Spencer clean out his car if it turned out they made a mess.

You took the third cookie and bit into it. Spencer watched you and he pulled off, turning onto the street. He hit a red light when you were halfway done with it, “were you not going to offer to share?”

Your eyebrows shot up momentarily, “you like sweets?”

“Half you met me?” he shot back.

You huffed, yanking his hand from the steering wheel and toward you, placing the cookie into his hand. The light turned green, so he steered with one arm and used his other to eat the cookie. It was a darling sight, truly. You giggled when a few crumbs fell onto the floor.

“I blame you,” he muttered, his mouth full of cookies as he made his proclamation.

Spencer had bought the tickets online, so as you parked, you made a game plan with the boys. Spencer and Henry would go to the bathroom because he forgot to say something back at the house and you and Jack would stand in line. There were a few games around–and of course, the boys asked to play when they saw them–but you only had ten minutes till the movie began, so you promised when the movie was over, you’d stay a bit longer to play.

There were only three lines open and from what you could tell, pretty long. Jack stuffed his hands into his tiny jacket pockets–he looked comfortable. “Do you know what you want to get?”

He pressed his lips together and notably looked around at the freezers and small box-like shelves separating the lines. They were only about two inches higher than him, maybe three or four higher than Henry.

“I’ve never been here.” You frowned. Jack had never been to a movie theatre or he had never been to this theatre? 

“What do you mean?” You stepped forward as the line moved up. A father and his daughter–probably around fourteen–stepped behind you. You took notice, but only because you’ve programmed your brain, they weren’t really important.

Jack shrugged, “What kind of snacks do they have.” You understood Jack didn’t want to speak more on the subject and because you cherished him, you dropped it–but you made a mental note to speak with Hotch about it later.

“Well, I think they have…gummy bears and–oh look–they have cornetto–personally I prefer the cup version–but that’s just me.” Jack laughed and stood on his tippy toes, trying to get a better look at the ice cream flavors.

You caught Spencer walking toward you, Henry skipping a few feet in front of him. He caught your wave and nodded toward Jack, who now stepped to the side of the counter–looking through the glass. “How much time do we have?”

Spencer checked his watch once more, his casual attire contrasting. He wore his glasses–which you absolutely adored–a pair of blue jeans substituted his normal khakis, and he wore a black hoodie with red writing on the back. He wore tenashoes instead of his work shoes and his silly socks were hidden beneath the fabric of his jeans. It made you frown slightly: you couldn’t tease him about it.

“Do you want anything?” You asked as the boys began listing off candy to the cashier.

“No, I’m good.” He shook his head, stuffing his hands into the singular pocket of his hoodie.

“Wanna share a bowl of popcorn?” You pleaded and eventually, he gave in.

You asked for two smaller bowls so you could split the large bowl between you, Spencer, and the boys. Spencer physically winced when you swiped your card–you saw it happen. It sent a flutter through you and your face reddened as much as it could. You covered it up with a laugh, hoping Spencer didn’t find it weird, though the look he threw you said otherwise.

You found your seats, the boys settled in the middle of the two of you. You separated the popcorn between the boys, but then realized it’d be an issue sharing with Spencer if he was all the way on the other side, so instead, you gave him one of the smaller bowls, filled his and Hnery’s, and shared the big bowl with Jack.

You made it in time for the credits which you hated, but Spencer loved. It put a goofy smile on his face as he explained every ad,s aying how they were trying to tug at your heartstrings or logical side. “But we’re too smart, aren’t we?” He met your gaze.

The boys turned toward you, where you now adorned a serious nod, “oh, yeah, we’re way too smart to fall fo that, right boys?” 

“Yep!” they nodded triumphantly. 

“And why is that?” Spencer rounded the question back to him.

“Because we’re profilers,” Jack asked hesitantly.

“Exactly,” you jabbed a finger at him, messing with his hair a little. He laughed and leaned away, pushing your hand toward the popcorn bowl.

Spencer watched you–but not just your person. He wanted your actions, your facial expression, the way you interacted and spoke to Jack, the way you joked with Henry, the way you took every opportunity you could to tease him about absolutely anything. 

He felt his heart tense and then fall to his stomach once he realized what was occurring. Was he falling in love? Was this what that feeling was? Was this how falling in love happened? You noticed minuscule, insignificant things about a person like the way they laughed? Or the way smiled? You analyzed them so thoroughly that you could tell what they would say before they said it. Or know the action they’re about to take before they make it?

He couldn’t tell. Spencer had never been in love before. He had never fallen in love. But was that what this was? He didn’t have a definitive answer, he just knew he wanted to be closer. To you. To you in every way. He wanted you to want to be close to him and he wondered if that was love.

Because if it was, wouldn’t that mean he’d already fallen? But it didn’t feel right.  It felt…like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he had been searching for an answer he knew was somewhere in his brain, but hadn’t figured it out until just now.

The movie played and he tried his best to watch it–he grasped the general concept, but he was more focused on, well, you.

Did he love you? Could he say that with genuine confidence? He wouldn’t know until he tried it out, but he couldn’t. Because what if he didn’t? What if what he felt for you was simply pure friendship–he’d be making a crucial mistake, one) if you didn’t like him you’d be weirded out and if you did he chanced hurting you, two) you worked together, that was an issue in and of itself.

He jumped when you stood, watching as you stretched. “What?” You raised a brow, a tired smile forming you mouth.

He found himself smiling back, his stomach flipping, “nothing. Just…tired.”

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes, yawning, “me too. We should head back now, it’s pretty late. We need to take them baths.”

“Yeah,” Spencer glanced at Jack, who was now standing, and Henry, who was fast asleep in his seat.

Spencer tried waking him slightly, but he wasn’t budging, “just carry him,” you suggested.

Deciding it was the only option, Spencer gripped Henry’s armpits and heaved him upward as gently as he could. You watched him as he laid Hnery’s head on his shoulder, the boy snuggling into the crook of his neck, hugging your coworker tightly. 

“Awww,” you sounded like Penelope but you didn’t care, this was too cute a moment not to capture. Whipping out your phone, you ignored Spencer’s pleas and snapped multiple photos from every angle.

Heading to the lobby of the theatre, you nudged Jack, “I’m guessing you don’t want to play some of the games anymore?”

Jack shook his head and rubbed his eyes, “no. m’just tired.”

You nodded, pulling him into your side as you walked, “Me too, buddy, me too.”

You passed an elderly couple on the way out, Henry slightly waking up when the cold air hit his face. “Are we home?” He asked.

The elderly couple snickered and said, “You’re a cute family.”

You opened your mouth to correct the woman, but her husband added, “You look just like we did, don’t they?” before you could. He turned to his wife, made clear by the matching rings.

“Oh, they do,” then she bent over and asked Jack, “What movie did your mommy and daddy take you to see.”

Instead of correcting the couple, Jack glanced at you, then Spencer, and grinned–though it was sleepy– “Spider-Man 2.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I haven’t seen that one, is it good?”

“Really good,” Henry answered from Spencer’s arms.

They laughed again, then apologized for keeping you and made their way inside.

You and Spencer said nothing as you made your way to the car. Jack and Henry were silent as well. You wondered just what was going through Jack’s head. Maybe he was too tired to understand or care about the women’s words. Yeah, that must have been it.

You decided you would ignore it just as you would ignore the flutter that continuously courced through you the entirety of the night.

With much prodding, you were able to get Henry into the bath. Jack didn’t take much convincing, but he assured you he could do it himself, which you shouldn’t have believed because he ended up getting shampoo into his eyes.

Spencer finished helping him, though it was hard because Jack insisted on showering. Eventually, the two boys were tucked into Henry’s twin-sized bed, and you and Spencer had a little free time before the others arrived.

You grabbed the bowl of cookies that you’d tucked on the counter near the fridge before you’d left. You meant to eat them at the kitchen counter, but Spencer wanted you to watch some movie he had put on. You would blame and hold him responsible for any crumbs that didn’t land in the bowl.

His chuckle was low and light, just like every other time you found yourself making him laugh. It sent a flutter through your chest and you had to turn away to keep from letting him know just how flustered that one sound could make you.

You shivered, you typically brought a sweater with you everywhere just in case, but you were going to JJ’s house, and you knew she’d let you borrow a few blankets. 

“Where are you going?” Spencer caught your wrist as you stood. Your heart jolted and you couldn’t help but stare at it. You blinked a few times before he let go. He sucked in a breath as if you’d stung him. You weren’t sure what he meant by that or if he meant anything at all by it. Spencer was normally an awkward person, but this didn’t feel like something he’d be awkward about, in fact, Spencer would never be put in this situation simply because Spencer hated physical contact.

Maybe that’s why he had such a reaction. You brushed it off, letting a shy smile replace the longing frown, “Just the hall closet to find a blanket…want one?”

Spencer shook his head and wanting to escape the atmosphere, you bottled toward the hall. You retrieved the first blanket on top. It was white with little blue bunnies. Cute. You thought, it must be Henry’s. 

“I’m back,” you hopped on the couch, keeping a cushion between the two of you, for fear of making him uncomfortable.

He declined your offer of a cookie and opted to lean back. It might have just been your imagination, but you were sure Spencer kept sneaking glances at you. You thought he must be bored, he’d put on a '90s romcom. Though you loved the, you were surprised when Spencer put it on. But then maybe he put it on for you and that’s why he kept glancing at you.

You huffed under a cookie, that’s so like him. 

Halfway through the movie, you’d discarded the bowl of cookies with four left and began to feel the lights dim. Or maybe it was just you. You took a moment and laid your head back but it was uncomfortable. As you shifted on the couch, a yawn escaped you. 

Spencer caught it, attention now fully focused on you, he smiled at your dreary state. He moved one leg under him and without really thinking much about it–if it’d make you uneasy or not–he took you by the shoulders and lowered your head into his lap. You noticed, but barely. He pulled the blanket over you as your arms wrapped around his thigh. Your head snuggled into him and when a satisfactory hmm released itself from your throat, he snorted a little. 

He loved you, or at least he thought he did. Spencer had never loved anyone. Well, he loved his mom, but he knew he was programmed that way. He loved quantum physics and math and chemistry and psychology, but those were very broad terms, and still not a being. He liked cats, but he couldn’t love a cat–well, he could–but that was a different discussion.

You, on the other hand, he always wanted to be around. You, on the other hand, he always wanted to talk to. You, he fell asleep thinking about; you, he dreamt about; you, he woke up to.

You were always on his mind, there was no way around it. In every conversation–though he rarely voiced it–he could always draw back to you. Penelope bought a new pink fluffy pen? You loved pens. Dereck couldn’t sleep at night because of his neighbor. You could sleep anywhere–it was a skill. Spencer couldn’t sleep at all, really, and when he did–well, he’d already know what he’d dream about.

He couldn’t escape you–but well, he didn’t want to.

The biggest evidence of his feelings for you? He hated–absolutely loathed–the thought of you talking to/dating/marrying anywhere else. He made a face, the thought disgusted him;; it made him sick.

The front door unlocking jolted him out of his thoughts… how long had he sat there watching you? Going back and forth in is mind? His mind began wondering and the lights began to fade. His shoulder drooped and he began pushing you backward, fixing you until you were both comfortable. 

“Just for…a bit…” he yawned before the lights went out.

Spencer jerked when he heard the front door unlock. He was always keenly aware of his surroundings–it was a bad habit he picked up in his years at the BAU.

JJ and Will stepped through the door as quietly as they could, the credits were rolling. The movie must have just ended. 48 minutes?

“Hey–” JJ whispered walking toward him.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, but was weighed down, and upon looking–found you still sound asleep. He smiled, but when he realized JJ could see him, he fixed it to a plain expression.

Spencer held up a hand and pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes widened slightly in concern when he looked down at you. Which was ridiculous, he couldn’t stay in this position the entire night, much less on JJ’s couch. You both had work in the morning and you needed to get home. Right…but where was Hotch? How would you get home?

He was startled by your shifting movements. Upon glancing at you again, he found you stirring. JJ covered up a small laugh, and turned back to Will, shushing him as he stalked over.

“Hotch texted, he should be here soon,” JJ whispered.

Spencer nodded as you lifted your head, he raised his arms just enough for you to have free reign, if you pushed out of his hold, he’d have no choice but to let go.

But you didn’t, you pulled him closer and buried your face into where his thigh met his hip. “Five more minutes.”

JJ snatched her phone from her pocket and began snickering, “Penelope is going to love this.”

“Hey–come on, JJ–don’t–” Spencer’s protests went ignored as JJ clicked a few photos and slipped her phone back into the back pocket of her jeans.

A knock sounded on the door not a moment later, Will went to open it while JJ sat on the arm of the couch and smiled down at her two coworkers. “Do you think she can hear us?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say no, but raised a brow and glanced at you questioningly, he wasn’t sure you knew where you were, let alone could make sense of a complete sentence. “I’m gonna go with probably not.”

They chuckled to themselves. Hotch waved, before following Will down the hall toward Henry’s room. You yawned and rolled onto your back, stretching over Spencer. “Hi,” you blinked up, a slow smile turning up your lips.

He met your sleepy gaze with one of his own, “hi,” he answered.

Hotch came back out with a very asleep Jack, calling out your name, You sighed, forcing yourself upward. “Guess I better go.”

Once again, Spencer felt his subconscious take hold of his body as he held an arm across your stomach, “I could take you…I mean I wouldn’t mind, besides,” he nodded toward Hotch and Jack, “he should get Jack home.”

JJ watched in silent awe. It was one thing for Spencer to shake hands with someone let alone hug them, so when she stepped through her doors and found you snuggled up to him, her suspicion-radar was going off. Spencer definitely had a thing for you, or at the very least felt most comfortable with you. In her mind, you were his person, and that didn’t have to be romantic, it was just how it was.

Now, though, watching his eyes, there was no doubt in her mind. Spencer Reid was in love. She wondered what kind of catastrophic event occurred for this to happen.

“You sure?” You murmured, rubbing your eyes. You were halfway leaning against his chest, and halfway using his shoulder to stay steady.

“Yeah, of course.”

Hotch seemed to get the gist of the conversation, whispered a few goodbyes, and headed out the door.

“You made cookies,” JJa noted.

“Yep, there’s four left, but they’re probably all stale now.”

“Well, maybe you two can babysit again and make me fresh ones.”

“I helped, you know,” Spencer added.

“Yeah, ‘helped’ so much I almost had to buy you a new pan.” After a good laugh, you stood and stretched, catching Spencer’s yawn, “well, it’s getting pretty late, we should head out.”

“Alright then, drive safe.”

“I’m always a safe driver.”

“I know you are, Spence.” She pressed her lips together, glancing at you, wondering if you even felt a smidgen of what Spencer felt for you.

The car ride was smooth, Spencer had been over a few times, and with his memory, he knew the way by heart. “Thanks for doing this.” You grabbed his hand as he pulled into your complex.

Spencer jolted, his head jerked down: his focus on where your hands connected. “Oh–sorry, I forgot–”

You snatched your hand away, but Spencer was quick to grab it back. “No–no it’s…” he stared at you. He could lose his mind and still be able to put a name to your eyes. They were like none he’d ever seen–which is opinionated, of course, in his mind, you were all there ever was. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, “I…know how you hate people touching you.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged sheepishly, “but when it’s you it’s okay.”

Your heart leaped at that and maybe it was because you were half-awake and when you were half-wake you became even more delusional than you were daily. “So, you don’t mind if I touch you?”

“No, not at all.” He replied immediately as if he had been programmed to.

You couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way onto your face, “good to know.”

You opened the car door and started exiting his vehicle. “Hey, —?”

“Yeah?” You yawned again, the sky a blue-black kind of color.

“What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?” You frowned.

“You know,” he tried motioning with his hands, which only made you snort.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “no idea.” You spun around, starting the path to your apartment, “see you tomorrow, Spencer.”

Spencer frowned, he knew he would think about this the rest of the night, if he could sleep he’d probably dream about it, and when he woke up, it would most definitely be the first thing on his mind.

a/n: lol i've been working on this forever (like a month) and i cried in my maths a few days ago because i couldn't understand it–#mathisnotforme

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[miedei]

sick day

roommate!spencer is sick (and lovely)

a/n: wrote this in a fugue state i think, just couldn't get the thought of being spencer's roommate out of my head

cw: best friends who definitely don't love each other noooo why would you say that, spencer is sick and annoying but also the best

wc: 2k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

Living with Spencer Reid is usually wonderful. He’s relatively neat, but messy enough that you don’t have to walk on eggshells around him. He’s always willing to recommend you a new read, he doesn’t judge you when you spend an entire day slumped on the couch, and is always up to help you stress bake. 

It’s decidedly wonderful, until it’s not. A week into your living together, you’d realised what a workaholic he was. After the first time you’d caught him asleep on top of paperwork in the living room, you’d understood how much of a pain Spencer Reid really can be. 

Unfortunately, today is one of those days. Spencer returned from a case last night, and the moment you’d seen the slump in his shoulders, you knew you were going to have to work from home today. 

“You really don’t have to stay home. I don’t even have to stay home! I’m seriously not sick, I swear!” His voice is low, as if attempting to mask the rasp in it. It doesn’t work.

His rambling doesn’t cease, not the entire time you steer him away from the front door and into the living room. 

“Yeah? Spence, do you even remember the last time you got sick? I came home to find you lying on the dining table! I’m not going to leave and come back to you trying to climb out of the window or something.” You deadpan, watching him cross his arm and grumble something about ‘elevating the upper body’, and ‘actually very good for the immune system’. 

Having shoved him not-too-lightly onto the couch, you stand with your arms crossed, eyes narrowed on him.

“I can’t believe you were going to go to work! Living with you is like living with a child sometimes, god. You know you would have been sent home straight away, look at you.” You gesture wildly at him. 

He’s a pathetic sight, curled up on the couch looking distinctly sorry for himself. His hair is limp, flat against his scalp, his weak limbs shoved haphazardly in a button down and slacks. He hasn’t even knotted his tie, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck. 

Grabbing his phone out of his bag, you thrust it towards him. 

“Call your boss and tell him you need a sick day. You said it yourself, it’s just paperwork today, right? You can take a day off once in a while, Spence, it won’t kill you.” Once finished, you stomp out of the room, heading to his bedroom to grab him some clothes. Surveying his closet, you grab one of his Caltech hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, grinning to yourself when you hear his hoarse voice on the phone. 

As you walk back into the living room, he’s settled in, clearly resigned to his fate. 

“Yeah, Hotch, I need the day off. I’m sorry, I’m just- Oh. It’s okay? You’re sure? Um, okay. Thanks Hotch.” He hangs up, his eyebrows pinched as if he’s loath to admit you were right. 

You can’t help it, snickering as you dump the sweats and hoodie on his chest. 

“I told you so.”

“You’re so mean to me.” 

It’s nice, spending a day with Spencer like this, even with how whiny he is. Sitting at the desk in the living room, you’re not being incredibly productive, but Spencer’s fever-induced rambles more than make up for it. 

“So, some moron made a blog called ‘What Would Carl Sagan Do?’, and Garcia - remember her, my coworker? She showed it to me, and oh my god, it’s so ridiculous! I mean, to start, all the entries were lifted from different sci-fi movies and books, and they were all so inaccurate, like, ‘The Martian Chronicles’ were good, but it’s been debunked so many times! Carl Sagan debunked it!”

He’s laying on his back on the couch, slender fingers waving in the air above him, eyes lidded as he speaks animatedly. 

“Yeah? What was wrong about it?” You rise from the desk chair, heading into the kitchen. “Also, do you want tea?”

His voice softens, speaking slower as he answers your question. “Yeah, that black tea you brought home last week, please.”

You can hear the moment he slips back into his rant, words growing more and more spirited as he continues to rail against whatever that blog was. Puttering around the cramped kitchen, you let his words roll over you, balancing two mugs and a plate in your hands. 

He doesn’t stop speaking, but flashes you a grateful smile as he takes a mug from you, swiping a cookie from the plate before delving back into the topic at hand.

“So, Bradbury, and a lot of the other sci-fi writers of the time, believed that colonisation of Mars would be possible within the 20th century. And then, in 1960, Carl Sagan, along with a bunch of other astronomers, discovered that Mars doesn’t have an atmosphere, so humans living there long term is virtually impossible without a huge improvement in technology, which probably won't happen until the latter half of the 21st century. And this moron with a blog is pretending like Sagan wouldn’t care, and that he would advocate for irresponsible space travel and I hate him.” 

He finishes with a huff, taking a large gulp of tea and sitting up against the couch. His eyes are hazy with exhaustion, eyelids drooping as he looks at you. You can’t help but giggle. He looks adorably dishevelled, and his eyebrows pinching together at your laughter only intensifies it.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“I’m- I’m sorry Spence, you just look really cute right now, like you’re going to fall asleep.” You can barely get it out, body shaking with mirth. His eyebrows furrow further, a slight pout forming on his lips. 

His attempts to get you to stop laughing go unanswered, and he huffs once more, crossing his arms and settling against the couch cushions. 

It’s the late afternoon when a knock on the door stirs you from your reverie. Spencer is sitting next to you, your legs slung over his lap as he leans back, eyes trained on The Fellowship of the Ring on the television as his hands tap out something on your calves. 

“Are you expecting anyone?” He shakes his head no, not averting his gaze from the screen. 

You sigh, jostling his shoulder. 

“Spence. Spence, can you go get the door? It’s probably a salesman or something.” 

He hums, shaking his head once more. 

“Can’t. Too sick.”

You groan, tipping your head back in frustration before hauling yourself off the couch, flicking his shoulder as you walk past.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” His only response is a grin, before he turns back to the movie. 

Grumbling under your breath, you trudge through the room to the front door, frowning when you look through the peephole to see two figures. 

One is shorter than the other, a woman wearing a hot pink and orange dress that should be garish, but looks completely natural on her. The man next to her is grinning, holding several plastic bags in one hand, the other arm linked with the woman’s. 

Not salesmen. 

Concluding that they’re probably not a threat, you swing the door open, causing their heads to pop up. 

“Hey, Reid- Oh.” The man speaks immediately, but pauses when he sees you. 

“You’re not Reid.” The woman concludes. 

You tilt your head to the side, confused. 

“Yeah, I’m not. Um, how do you know Spencer?” 

They share a confused look.

“We’re his coworkers. Derek and Penelope. Sorry, who are you? Do we have the wrong apartment?” 

You brighten, recognising the names from Spencer’s many stories about work. 

“Oh, that’s who you are! No, you’ve got the right apartment, of course. Come in.” You turn to the side, allowing them to walk in, although their expressions remain bewildered. “I’m Spence’s roommate, Y/N. He’s in the living room.”

“Roommate?” Derek exclaims before setting his sights on Spencer, striding over to him. 

“Hey, pretty boy.” Spencer jolts, the haze of sickness having made sure that he didn’t notice them till now. His voice is higher than normal, squeaky. 

“Morgan! What are you- Garcia? Why- why are you here?” Penelope smiles mischievously, plopping down on the couch next to Spencer. 

“Well, we obviously wanted to check up on you, Boy Wonder. This is the first sick day you’ve taken in the last two years - don’t try to lie to me, I checked - and now, we’re very interested in your friend here.” Her smile loses its teasing edge when she turns to you. 

A grin spreads over your face, recognising the same teasing affection you feel towards him in the two newcomers. Retaking your seat on Spencer’s other side, you pull your feet up on the couch, tucking them under Spencer’s thigh. 

Penelope squeaks quietly, but averts her gaze when you look up at her questioningly. 

“So, you guys have worked with Spence for a while, huh?”

Derek sits in the armchair across from you, chuckling under his breath.

“Since he was 22. Back when he straightened his hair and wore those sweater vests that were three sizes too big.” Spencer lets out a strangled noise of protest next to you, but you both ignore him in favour of continuing your conversation. 

“Seriously? I’ve seen one photo of him back then, but then he started hiding them all from me. You got any?” 

Penelope perks up, pulling out a tablet from her work bag. 

“Yes! Oh my goodness, sweetheart, I have so many. Did you know, he used to do this thing where he would gel his hair back, said it made him look older but it was honestly just really cute, hold on…”

She shifts and moves to sit on your other side, huddling over the tablet with you and Derek. 

Spencer is suddenly left in the lurch, stuck observing the three of you from the other end of the couch. He feels like he should be irritated, angry even, but he can’t do anything but watch, eyes softening. 

“Oh my god, Spencer, you were so cute, what happened?” Never mind, he’s feeling a bit irritated now.

It’s not endearing, no. No matter how lovely you look, your face flushed with excitement. No matter how easily you fit in with some of his favourite people in the world.

It’s not captivating, not at all.

[mastermindmiko]

Finally

Pairing: Sirius Black + Reader

Summary: Sirius reunites with his girlfriend after many years in Azkaban

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, I believe, but lmk

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

The ministry’s guards have been following me around for the last two days. They follow me to work and back to my home. There is a guard positioned in front of my office that stays there, surveilling anyone going in or out. I’m sure they’d have one at my home, if I didn’t so clearly state my distaste for the idea, going on a small rant about my rights. 

I wish I could’ve said that I was unexpecting of be pulled out of my work in the middle of the day. Three days after the papers printed out the news, and I had caught a glimpse of his adult face for the first time in years. Despite the disheveled hair and maddening stare with the manic scream, it was still him. 

The interrogation room is exactly like I thought it would be. Remus had described it in his letters, he was his friend after all, it made sense to interrogate him as well. There’s only a few people present in the room, most of them being guards and secret keepers. The veritaserum is present in a small vile, on an even smaller table. I sit down in front of it and take a small sip. 

The auror raises an eye at me, I gulp down the whole potion. I can already feel the effects start to take place, it’s getting more difficult to hold my tongue. The auror grabs a piece of paper from the secret keeper next to them and the reporter holds more tightly to her pen. 

“Please state your name.” 

The first questions are standard procedure, making sure that the veritaserum is in full effect. It’s basic questions: my name, my age, my occupation. The Auror clears his throat and I straighten my back ready for the actual questions. His voice bellows as he speaks, “Have you had any contact with Sirius Black?” 

“No, I have not.” I reply, and as much as it pains me to say it, it’s the truth. The Auror’s eyes narrow at me suspiciously. I can hear the quill scratching at the parchment paper, my answer recorded. He asks, “Have you been in contact with anyone who has been in contact with Sirius Black?” 

“No, I have not.” I repeat, and feel the boredom steep into my skin, not just annoyance that was already present. I had wished that he had contacted me, but surely, he was waiting for the trials to be over, he wouldn’t want to get caught. 

“Do you know anyone who Sirius Black might try to contact?” 

“Do you have any ideas as to where he might hide?”

“Are there any people who might’ve aided him in his escape?” 

“Have you aided him in his escape?” 

The questions go on and on, and I watch the arrows of the clock tick and tick till an hour of my day is gone. The Auror is on his last paper with the last necessary questions. He asks, “And finally, what was your relationship with Sirius Black?” 

“I was his girlfriend.” 

***

“I’m not sure I like this.”

“No, don’t worry, you’ll love this surprise.” Remus teases, hinting at something I don't understand. I had received a letter from Remus, entailing anything except for the fact that the order is coming back together. For the second time, to fight off Voldemort. Harry needed more people around him that believed him more than anything.

I open my eyes and my breath hitches when I see him. He looks older from what I remember and much more sane than the pictures that the daily profit prints.I can imagine that if I’d ask him, he’d just smirk and flirt. He’d say that thoughts of me held him over. He’s got his hair slicked back and his beard trimmed. The dirt that would’ve covered his skin from the confinement in Azkaban, nowhere to be seen. He wanted to make a good impression, and that was too bad. 

“Actually, I’m sure that you’ve loved this surprise for a while now.” He says He walks me towards an unknown room in Grimmauld Place 12. The new location for the order is odd, and quite awfully random. I wasn’t sure how Dumbledore agreed, it seemed such an obvious place to hold a resistance against Voldemeort, but maybe that was the brilliance of it.

Remus was being awfully ominous, he’s been hinting about this surprise for a bit, and now that he’s finally leading me towards it, I feel anxious. I clutch my bag tightly in my hand and try not to look like I want to open my eyes so badly, aching to not try to take a subtle peek through my fingers that covered my eyes.

Remus shuts the door behind us and positions me.  He lets go of my shoulders, and shouts, “Surprise!” 

The feelings of relief from seeing him, all gone out the window as my fist clenches in anger and my blood boils. Why had he not spoken to me? Been out of Azkaban for two years, and not a single word. How dare he rob me of this relief?  Everyday coming home from work to eagerly check my letters and find none with his name. Looking deeply into the fire escape, hoping to see a familiar face, but don’t.

I rush over to him and start slamming his shoulders and chest with my bag. I shout, “You’ve been out of Azkaban for two bloody years and you haven't come to find me till now, you idiot!” 

“Ow,ow,ow! Darling, please stop.” He says, moving away from my bag and my fists, but I take a step towards him. I feel my eyes water at the nickname and how much I’d missed his voice. He holds my wrists and pulls them down, taking the bag from my hands and flinging it to the ground. 

I look at him again, and there he is. The boy I fell in love with,now a man, but with the same mischievous glimmer in his eyes. He smiles when he notices that my defenses have been let down, and my eyes softened. He always knew me too well. I feel my eyes burn and I press my lips together, urging the tears to stay back.

“I’ll give you guys some space.” Remus whispers before leaving the room. Sirius shoots him a smile and then turns back to me when the door closes. He looks skinnier, being on the run tends to do that. His cheeks are more hollowed out, but definitely filled out more since his initial escape. I wonder if he knows that I look at his pictures everyday. Sirius whispers, “How is it that you’re still getting more and more beautiful?” 

“How is it that you didn’t come find me? Or contact me at all? Harry’s been talking to you, he’s told me about the letters, and apparently you’ve been talking to Remus too.” I ask, avoiding his expert technique in changing the subject. He lets go of my wrist and I feel my fingers twitch, aching to get a hold of him again. He sighs, and says, “I was in Azkaban for twelve years.” 

“So?” 

“So…you could’ve moved on, and I-” He admits, pausing to let out a shaky breath. Fourteen years didn’t change the man that I knew. The mannerisms are the same, the same nervous shifting and awkward, but devastating smile. He continues, “I wasn’t ready to see that. Don’t think I am now, but it seems like it’s been long enough.” 

“It’s been too long.” I say, and take a final step towards him. I gulp and reach out to take his hand. I feel the softness of his finger tips, sliding my hand over his, feeling the lines of his palm and his callouses. It’s all the same and I can't without the sigh that breaks out from my chest. The first proper touch from the love of my life. He grips my hand the same way he always did, lock and key. I pull him tightly against me, hug him. For years, this is all I’ve wanted, and now it’s here.

“Have you?” Sirius asks, and I pull away, frowning and confused. I ask, “Have I what?” 

“Moved on?” Sirius asks, tentatively, part of him not wanting to know, instead wanting to live in an ignorant bliss. To me, it’s a stupid question. I smile, “No, how could I move on when you’ve taken my heart eighteen years ago, and so selfishly haven’t given it back to me?” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get around to giving it back.” He grins so widely I think his face might break. He leans down and captures my lips in a heated kiss that’s filled with so much emotion, the emotions that neither of us could’ve expressed for a long time. 

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed! I have a feeling that I've been writing too much Sirius Black, though I'm not complaining

I feel a few tears finally escape my eyes, I can’t believe that he’s actually here, in front of me, kissing me after all this time. He wipes them away with his thumbs and cradles my face with his hands. For the first time in twelve years, though maybe without friends and heart bruised and more broken than before, I don’t feel alone. 

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Ur Johnny alphabet… I ate it up. Pls tell me you’re planning on dropping the other half or even a nsfw alphabet??? Your characterization was so good!!!

SFW (O-Z) Alphabet -- Johnny Storm 🔥| Marvel Headcanon

Note to anon📨: So glad you enjoyed my A-N for Johnny! I have not done O-Z in a long time so I hope this is up to par 💌 Also I've never done a NSFW one but I'm highly considering doing it for Johnny and other maverl characters 👀 Hope you like this!! ❤️

Link to my Marvel masterlist 💌 A-N for Johnny here

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Considering Johnny is in the spotlight thanks to his superhero status, he might be a little reserved when you first start seeing each other. And beneath his dorky, charming nature, he's quite shy when it comes to expressing his feelings to someone he really liked. With you, you make it easy for him to be open and reveal things he otherwise would keep to himself that even Johnny was surprised at first. He didn't open his can of worms immediately, as he didn't want to spew his guts and have it backfire, but little by little with each date Jonny revealed himself to you. And each time, you fell more and more in love with him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With the Godly levels of heat in his veins, you'd think Johnny would be a short fuse--and maybe he was when he was younger. But as he got older he learned the importance of being patient and not letting anger get to him. Snapping over something that is an easy fix would not be helpful in the long run. Of course being in a stress-induced career field--like saving the world--there are times where Johnny's patience wears thin. He hides it well which he prides himself on whenever someone else decides to let their fuse blow.

In your relationship, Johnny never leads with anger when a situation arises. He cares about you so much and would hate to unintentionally hurt you because he let his emotions get to him. When something bothers one of you, you communicate and talk it out. He's really the most patient man you've been with.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Please, this man is a walking encyclopedia. He knows you better than you know you. Reed may have the IQ of a genius with a photographic memory, but Johnny does not forget a single thing you tell him. He remembers the embarrassing stories from your high school days. Who was the first celebrity posted on your walls. What movie you can watch over and over again and never tire. The song that reminds you of a late summer day when the sun sets over the horizon.

"Johnny where did you get this?" "That old antique shop off the corner of 57th street. The one we went to last month." "You remembered that? We were only there for maybe ten minutes." "Well I remember you picking this up with that look you always have when you want something. I had to make sure you had it."

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Oh gosh he can't pick one. There's too many--the day you met, your first date, your first kiss. When he said he loved you for the first time--he can go on and on. But if he had to choose a single moment in your relationship that is his favorite it had to be the night of the Baxter Gala. You were 10 minutes late, dressed to the nines, in a satin gown that had his mouth drooling and head spin. You two got a little tipsy, danced until your feet hurt, gossiped about the pretentious executives in attendance from the bar and laughed under the stars when you snuck away to the terrace to get away from the fancy ordeal.

"Baby, have I mentioned how mesmerizing you look tonight?" "Once or twice, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again, pretty boy." "Call me that again, and we're going to have to leave this party early."

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

This man is a superhero, it is in his nature to be protective. Even if there is no present threat Johnny is on high alert. In public gatherings he's always got a close eye on you and sometimes will have a protective hand on your waist when conversing with people. He's also not one to keep his mouth shut if someone were to insult you. Johnny's pulling out all the witty comebacks to mentally and emotionally fuck up the person who dared hurt you. And you're not afraid to throw hands either. There have been times where Johnny is the one having to hold you back from breaking a douchebag's nose for threatening your man. (He finds it super hot).

Now say you happen to be in the crossfire when an adversary of the Fantastic Four makes an appearance. Johnny is exhausting all his energy into getting you the fuck out of there. Practically losing his mind while trying to also remain calm as to not freak you out further. "Okay, you're gonna hold onto me and you're not gonna let go. Okay?" "Okay--wait-wait-wait! Are you going to light up?! Johnny--is it even safe!" "We're about to find out. Just don't let go--close your eyes if you need." "Oh my God."

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Johnny does not do anything half-assed. He's pulling out all the stops to give you the best dates, the best anniversaries, the best gifts. He's making even the simplest tasks special. Like putting the right amount of sugar and cream in your tea/coffee. Or helping you take out the rollers in your hair so you can focus on finishing your makeup. Anything, no matter how little, Johnny is putting 110 and even more percent.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He bites his nail when he's anxious. It's been a bad habit of his since he was a kid and he does his best to stop but sometimes the nerves get so bad he doesn't realize he's doing it. When it gets to that you'll gently take his hand in yours and keep it in your lap, letting your own fingers draw patterns on his palm. He'll also forget to turn off the lights when he's in a hurry to leave in the morning and you have to drag yourself out of bed to do it yourself.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He tries to hide it but you've caught him checking himself out in the mirror. Smoothing out his hair, adjusting his clothes. He knows he looks good and who can blame him really. When you do catch Johnny doing it you'll tease him with a light pat to his ass while saying, "Who are you trying to impress, blondie?" to which he'll catch you by the waist and unleash an attack of kisses along your neck, biting your earlobe while whispering, "the love of my life, that's who." Then of course when you two are headed to events and he stops one last time in the mirror you can't help but yell, "You're hot!! Now let's go before we never make it this thing."

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Johnny would be a mess without you. He can survive a couple days when he's on a mission or you're having to leave the city for work, but he'll be miserable. He's counting down the hours until you're together again and he's so pouty that Sue, Reed, or Ben is having to be like, "You'll see them soon, Johnny. Now we need you to focus because otherwise we're going to have more problems than what we want."

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Not many people know this, but Johnny loves to dance. Whether it's in the comfort of your home, at a gala/benefit, or at a jazz club, Johnny loves to hold you in his arms and sway you to the beat of the music. He'll put on a record, pull you from the couch and you'll spend hours exchanging soft kisses while letting your bodies move together in a gentle rhythm. And when the vibes are a more upbeat, Johnny knows how to get down with the Twist and Jive.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Something Johnny cannot stand is being lied to or having secrets kept from him. Whether it's in a relationship or having to deal with work, Johnny expects 100% trust and will have it be a deal-breaker. He hates when the team tries to keep certain things from him, and he'd hate for his partner to do the same--not matter how small it is. If they can't trust him, how can they expect him to trust them?

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

This man does not know how to keep still when he's asleep. He tosses and turns and will wake up with half the covers off. Sometimes he'll be curled up to your side or literally on top of you. At least some part of his body has to be touching you. Your leg on his, your pinkies interlaced, or his hand just above your ass. Sometimes it can be a little overwhelming--especially in the summertime since he's so damn hot--but at least he doesn't snore.

[nomie-11]

Dear Ellie

masterlist!

synopsis: after you pass away from an illness, ellie finds letters you had hidden away while you were still alive, and learns to live again

pairings: ellie williams x reader

Dear Ellie, 

If your hand is in this jacket pocket, it means it’s getting cold out, and you need to grab your winter coat from the closet and clean this one. It’s nasty not to wash your summer coat. 

——————————

A part of her didn’t want to put away her summer coat. 

Putting away her summer coat would be allowing the last season you had been alive to pass her by. She didn’t like winter, didn’t like the cold bite in her cheeks. She wanted to stay in the warmth forever, swim in the freezing creeks and lay in the grass. 

She clutched the jacket tighter around her, fingers curling into the fabric as if holding it close would keep you closer. The scent of summer was nearly gone, faded under the crisp chill of autumn leaves and approaching winter, but she swore she could still catch a trace of you—the faint scent of strawberries, like a whisper she couldn’t quite make out. 

Ellie sat on the edge of her bed, the dim glow of the lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The note, your note, rested in her lap, the edges slightly crumpled from how many times she’d unfolded and remolded it. She traced the letters with a fingertip, your handwriting so familiar, so you. 

Her throat tightened. She should put the coat away. Should clean it just like you told her to. But if she did that, if she packed it up in the closet, it would mean the last season you had held her in would have passed without any attempts of her holding back. 

Despite her best attempts at clawing against time, to stay in the warm days of August and remember the feel of your hand in hers, she had been unsuccessful against the cooling of the air and the falling of the leaves. Ellie folded the note carefully, tucking it back into the pocket where it belonged. The coat stayed wrapped around her body. 

Winter could wait. She wasn’t ready yet. 

——————

Dear Ellie, 

If it’s really winter now, you should be wearing those gloves I made you. The ones with the weird stitching because I messed up halfway through. You promised me you’d wear them. 

I swear on my own grave, I’ll find a way to haunt you if you manage to get hypothermia. 

————————

She found them buried at the bottom of her drawer, shoved beneath old scarves and mismatched socks. 

The stitching was just as bad as she remembered. 

Ellie turned them over in her hands, running her thumbs over the uneven thread. You’d cursed the whole time while making them, frustrated with every mistake, but you’d still given them to her with a proud little smile. She had laughed, told you they were the ugliest thing she’d ever seen, and you’d punched her in the arm for that. 

Her vision blurred. 

With a sharp inhale, she pulled the gloves on. They were too warm, too tight around her fingers, but she clenched her fists and kept them on anyway. 

————————

Dear Ellie, 

If the snow is melting, it means spring is coming! You always liked spring more than winter, even though you pretended not to care. I remember the way you looked at the first green buds on the trees, the way your shoulders relaxed when the sun started lingering a little longer in the sky. 

I hope you’re letting yourself enjoy it. 

Go outside, Els. Feel the mud under your boots. Breathe it in. And eat something fresh, for god’s sake. You live in a town with a greenhouse. Use it. 

————————

The first signs of spring came slow—just hints at first, little glimpses of warmth breaking through the cold. The ice cracked, the snow thinned, and Ellie found herself standing outside, watching the way the world woke back up. 

She hadn’t noticed how tense her shoulders had been all winter until she felt them ease. 

For the first time in months, she let the sun sit on her face, let herself close her eyes and breathe in the damp, earthy scent of thawing ground. 

It was strange how grief shifted with the seasons. Winter had been heavy, cold, a weight pressing down on her chest. But spring… spring was different. It still ached, still lingered in the quiet moments, but it wasn’t as sharp. It was softer, something almost gentle, like the calming kiss of a morning breeze. 

She wandered to the greenhouse, hands stuffed in her pockets, and lingered by the rows of plants. You would have scolded her for not coming sooner. 

So she picked a handful of strawberries. 

She had never really liked them before—always found them when they weren’t ripe, too bitter and too sour—but when she bit into one now, it wasn’t like she remembered. 

It was sweet. 

——————————

Dear Ellie, 

I bet the creek is freezing. But that never stopped me! You always called me crazy, but I think you liked it at heart—how alive it made me feel. You only ever stuck your feet in, but you should go all the way in now. 

Go swimming for me. Scream when the cold hits you. Laugh when you resurface. Let yourself feel it all. 

You’re still here, Els. Don’t just exist. 

————————

Dina and Jesse’s had to drag her there. 

Ellie resisted at first, muttering excuses, shoving her hands deeper into her jacket. But when they reached the creek, something pulled at her, something deep in her chest that she couldn’t quite name. 

The water was crisp and fast, but the surface was smooth, catching the soft gold light of late spring. It was just as freezing as she remembered—just as sharp, just as breath-stealing. 

Dina jumped first, her laughter echoing through the trees, and Jessie followed with a loud whoop. 

Ellie hesitated at the edge, heart hammering. 

Then she thought of you. 

She thought of your grin, the way you used to look over your shoulder before you flipped off the higher rock into the cool rush of the river. 

So she jumped. 

The cold stole the breath from her lungs, but when she resurfaced, gasping, all she could do was laugh. 

——————————

Dear Ellie, 

It’s summer now, isn’t it?

I hope you’re not hiding inside like you do when it gets too hot. You never liked it, but summer was my favorite so you put up with it. I hope you’re still putting up with it. 

I hope you go outside, feeling the grass under your feet, hiking up in the mountains, sneaking ice from Joel’s fancy freezer. I hope you’re letting yourself have all of it. 

And I hope you’re not alone. 

—————————

Joel was older now. 

Ellie had always known that, had seen it in the way he over, the way he rubbed at his knees after a long day, the way he sighed when he sat down. 

But lately, she really saw it. 

She saw the gray in his hair, the lines that had deepened around his eyes. She saw the way his hands, once so steady, still so strong, sometimes trembled when he thought no one was looking. 

She had spent so long being angry. Holding onto it like armor, like proof of something she couldn’t quite name. 

But now? 

Now, she just saw her dad getting older. 

So she started spending more time with him. Small things at first—helping him with repairs, eating meals together, sitting on the porch on a dry summer night when the heat of the day finally faded. 

One day, she found an old guitar string and fixed up the guitar he had given her years ago. 

When she played, he closed his eyes and listened. 

They didn’t talk about it, about the time they had lost, about the things that had stood between them for so long. 

They didn’t have to. 

—————————

Dear my love, 

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe because you wrote to me first to make sure I didn’t go insane. Maybe because I’m afraid that if I stop talking to you, I’ll forget the sound of your voice. 

I guess I just… I wanted to tell you that I did it. 

I swam in the freezing creek. I screamed like a fucking idiot when I hut the water, and Dina laughed so hard she started crying. Jesse splashed me in the face, and for a second, it was like nothing had even changed. 

I ate the strawberries from the greenhouse. And you were right—they totally aren’t bitter. I don’t think they ever were, I was just too much of an idiot to wait and get ready for them to ripen. You’d get a kick out of me trading anything for strawberries. 

Joel and I… we’re okay now. I sit with him on his porch some nights, and we don’t really say much, but it’s enough. I think he’s happy I’m around more. I was an ass for ignoring him for so long. 

It still hurts. I still miss you. Some nights, it hits me out of nowhere, and it’s like I can’t breathe. But then I think about what you’d say. I think about the way you’d roll your eyes at me, but then help me get back on my feet, go outside, live. 

So I’m trying. 

I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing you. But I’m learning that missing you doesn’t mean I have to stop living. 

I’m carrying you with me, Y/n. Every season. Every letter. Every strawberry. 

With all my love forever, 

Ellie

What i think would happen if Ellie had an opportunity to actually grieve someone’s death

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[voidangxls]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Heart Shaped Sweets ʚ♡ɞ

╰┈➤ a part of my valentines special!

pairings(s)- Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary- You and your best friend Rafe were both single for Valentines. You also had the very tasty hobby of baking.

category- fluff

warnings- suggestive content, non psycho rafe, soft rafe, one use of y/n, bestfriends with tension, kissing, not proofread

word count: 1317

masterlist; valentines special; outer banks masterlist

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

Ever since you could remember you’ve loved baking. If you had the chance to bake for any event or any pastime you would do so.

So when you didn’t have a Valentines and you found out neither did you best friend Rafe Cameron the both of you agreed to spend it together, as just friends. As soon as your plans with Rafe had been set in stone you started figuring out recipes to make for Valentine’s day.

The two of you agrees to spend the day together at the Camerons house, having a movie night and maybe some games like the two of you do a lot already.

The day of Valentines Rafe insisted he would pick you up so now that you were waiting on him to show up you were packaging your sweet treats into cute pink boxes. You then hear a horn come from the outside of your house so you let out an excited squeal, grabbed your purse, gathered the boxes of sweets into a large tote bag and walked out of the house.

Rafe was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black shirt while you were dressed in a a matching pajama set that had a pattern of hearts covering it.

When you walked out you looked Rafe up and down, he was dressed comfy and causal. You saw him in this element a lot, but that would never stop you from absolutely drooling on the inside.

“look at you, and what do you got there” Rafe calls out, leaning off of the car and walking over to you to give you a hug.

“a surprise” you mumble into his shoulder. When the two of you pull away you guys walk to the passenger side and he opens the door for you, but not before trying to peak into the bag. You pull an offended expression and smack the back of his head gently “no peaking!” you say

“ow woman! Fine, fine no peaking!” he exclaims, dramatically taking his hand to the back of his head and rubbing where you hit him. You wrong your eyes at his dramatics while he walks back over to the drivers side and gets in. “you look cute” Rage tells you, starting the car back up and pulling out of your driveway.

You look over at him with a bright smile “thank you!” you reply happily.

One your way to the Camerons, Rafe had stopped and gotten you guys some food to eat for dinner and then headed back to the house.

Time had passed and the two of you have already ate dinner and watched a movie, now the two of you were moving on to playing games. “so are you ever going to tell me what you brought?” Rafe groans, flopping his head down onto your lap.

You smile down at him and tap his face, signaling for him to get up. “come on” you tell him, your voice filled with excitement as you get up. Without the even noticing Rafe laced his hand with yours as the two of you walk towards the kitchen. You grab your tote bag and take out the boxes of sweets, setting them onto the counter in front of you guys.

“I made us dessert, but they’re all heart shaped because it’s Valentine’s day.” you tell him happy, looking up at him to find her was already looking at you.

He knew you loved baking and you had baked for him plenty of times before but for some reason this time felt different, even though it wasn’t all just for him. “Wanna explain the desserts to me, sweetheart?” he asks, giving you a smile

you nod and look back down at the sweets you made, unable to contain your smile. You point to the first box “these are strawberry cinnamon rolls” you point to the second box “these are brownies” and lastly you point to the third box “and these are churros, I know they’re your favorite.” you tell him, looking up at him with a proud smile, secretly hoping he would like it.

His hand reaches out and gently grasps the box “you remembered my favorite?” he asks softly, looking down at the box of sweets.

You furrow you eyebrows and tilt your head “course I did” you respond. “now come on, lets eat!” you say happily, going towards the cabinets and grabbing plates and cups. You give yourself and Rafe one of each snack on your plates as well as filling your respected cups with milk to wash down the sweetness. You also made Rafe rate each dessert out of ten.

“Rafe, you cant give everything a 10/10, gotta be honest” you complain, taking a bite of your brownie

“I am being honest sweetheart” he insist

“fine” you give up

Rafe then lifts his arm and feeds you a bite of his strawberry cinnamon roll you made. Your smile gets bigger when you notice the action and you lean forward so he could feed it to you easier.

“you know.. you’re the best person in my life, y/n”

You look over at him in surprise. You knew that Rafe didn’t have many people in his corner, he had you, Barry, and sometimes Wheezie but hearing those words come out of his mouth caused a spark to circuit through your heart. It made your heart race and your temperature rise. “really?” you ask quietly, looking over at him with a smile and hopeful eyes.

The boy lets out a scoff of a laugh as he looks at you “of course. You’re the best thing thats ever happened to me, don’t know what I’d do without you, probably go insane” he admits to you

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way. And I am absolutely certain I would go insane without you” you admittedly respond.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment. There were beautiful happy smiles on each of your faces and the room was silent, there was a sparkle in your eyes that was only seen when you would talk to each other, a sparkling that everyone but you guys saw.

The silence amongst the two of you is cut off when you suddenly feel lips on yours. Rafe had kissed you.

When you don’t respond immediately Rafe pulls back, his expression guarded and hurt “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that” he tells you but you couldn’t process a word of what he said

“why did you do it?” you ask in a whisper, emphasizing the ‘did’ as you look up at him with soft twinkling eyes.

“I just- I love you, like I’m in love with you but its fine if you don’ts feel the same I get it and I know I shouldn’t have kissed-

Rafe rambles but is cut off when you lean forward and attach your lips with his. He stills for a split second but quickly catches himself, he kisses you back intensely. He kisses you like he would never get the chance again, his lips weren’t necessarily soft but they weren’t chapped and he tasted like sugar and cinnamon.

When you kissed him Rafe thought he was going to have a heart attack, your lips were soft and sweet. Your kisses were passionate and loving, you held the side of his face like you cared because you did which is something he wasn’t use to. Now that he had your lips on his he knew he could never go back.

The two of you pull away and lean your foreheads together, his hands on your waist and yours on his face. The both of you looking at each other with raw emotion of love “Im in love with you too, yknow” you whisper and he couldn’t help but bring you into another breathless kiss.

a/n: idk how I feel about this but i’m still sick

[midnight-mourning]

One Step Ahead (Into Your Heart)

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 6💘💘

Wahhhhh sorry this is late late, had a lot happening with work and school oughhhh, please enjoy though! I think it's cute hehe

Prompt: Y/n and the boys progressively trying to out-do each others valentines proposals. All in good fun of course, they just keep getting bigger and grander gestures.

Word Count: 1838

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

When you'd first been presented with the small bouquet, you were flattered. Having just started dating the attendant a few weeks ago you weren't expecting them to get you something so soon. You wanted to return the favor for that exact reason. It was like a fun little way to show you cared and were just as committed. 

So, you'd decided to return the favor, getting them both bouquets in return, just slightly larger. You found bouquets of yellow and purple tulips at the local greenhouse and thought they would just be perfect. Honestly, you can't remember at this point if it had been intentional or not to 'out do' them. 

The Attendants coming back at you with a much larger vase filled with flowers had startled you, initially. Sun presenting the large vase to you the second you walked in the door for your shift. 

"What in the—" You'd ask, face filled with flowers and their sweet scent.

You glanced up to see Sun's rays spin as he shrugged. "Just a little something for you, Sunshine. Do you like it? Do yah, do yah, do yah?"

"I, of course I do but—"

He sets the flowers down on the desk, then turns to you. "I knew you would! Just wait, it'll only get better from here." The narrow in his eyes makes you realize that this was indeed a challenge to him, to them. Daring you to keep going. 

"That so?" You ask, keeping up your own innocent act for the moment. 

Sun plucks one of the flowers from the vase, and after a quick once-over, bends and places it behind your eye. "Mmmhmmm."

"Noted."

They were roses, of course. And currently were taking up the majority of space on your kitchen table. Though the one he'd given you directly was being pressed between a few books currently. 

One would think that would be the last of it, but it only caused you to double down your efforts further. Instead of flowers though, you switched to gifting them a stuffed animal, a teddy bear. Fitting for the upcoming holiday. 

You weren't expecting them to present to you a bigger bear. So, you buy an extra large teddy bear online, with a large heart in its fluffy paws. 

They get you a massive bear, with an even larger heart that's somehow the fluffiest thing you've ever felt. You were watching the kids at nap time when Moon suddenly deposited the plush into your lap.

"Moon!" You'd hissed, trying to keep your voice low in the quiet Daycare.

In response, he bent down, booping you on the nose. "Quiet now, the children are resting. Perhaps you should as well, I think your new acquaintance would make for excellent assistance."

He walked away before you could protest further, snickering to himself all the while. 

It had become a staple in your bedroom, nice to cuddle with on late nights where you couldn't sleep. There was a little music box inside that reminded you of the naptime animatronic, it had lulled you into slumber several nights now. 

Though, you don't know how they got their hands on it, just like the flowers. You're almost afraid to ask. 

Same goes for when you found a box of chocolates waiting for you on the desk when you turned around after dealing with a small scuffle between the kids. Sun acting so surprised and oblivious as to where they came from, and yet unable to hide his giggling about the subject. 

They can't eat, so that made it harder for you to return fire, so you switched to clothing instead, getting both of them the most syrupy sweet-themed sweaters you could find. They in turn, got you an even bigger sweater with a somehow even cornier phrase on it. And of course, more chocolates. So many chocolates you ended up having to give some to the kids some days when they weren't paying attention. 

It started to get more difficult, in the final days leading up to Valentine's. You had to change tactics. Get more, personal. Gift ideas that you were saving for next christmas and such came to light. Sketchbooks, paints, novels, more stuffed animals. Crafts that you'd been planning like bracelets and or drawings and so on. 

With each blow you dealt, either Sun or Moon came back with something more. 

Paintings and sketches, books for you, your favorite album on vinyl, a necklace. It was a constant battle, and at this point you couldn't tell who was winning and who was losing. Didn't help that it was two against one, either. Always with a good excuse, as well.

"This just seemed your type!"

"I know how much you've wanted this."

"It was in your favorite color, I couldn't not get it for you!"

"I just thought you'd look quite nice in this, is all."

And then came the cards. 

Oh, the cards. 

Similar to the rest of the gifts, they started small, simple, but that quickly took a turn. You started with those little tear apart cards you find at the grocery store. With the canned corny phrases and the likes. 

They in turn, produce homemade cards, folded into little hearts or roses or such. Each one with a somehow endearing phrase on it despite how silly they would appear to someone else. Things like 'You are purrfect to me!' or 'There is no-bunny like you!' or even, strangely—thought still endearingly—'Help, I've fallen for you and can't get up'. 

So, you came back with handmade cards of your own, with doodles and the likes of them, with your own words of romance—have kidding of course—as retaliation. 

'I think you're Dino-mite!'

'I donut know what I'd do without you!'

'I otterly adore you!'

They put even more effort in themselves, going from simple folded designs to origami shapes and the likes. The short phrases becoming full length poems sappily declaring their love. It was cute, all in good fun. 

At this point, it was mainly about trying to win that mattered most. You against them, just wanting to see who could come up with the better ideas, the more elaborate, heart-felt gifts. It was a game, one you desperately wanted to win. Just a game.

Or so you thought.

It was well after closing, the day right before Valentine's. You were working on cleaning from the day's activities and planning out the remainder of the day of's. Besides wanting it to be fun for the kids, you had one last surprise to try on your attendants. 

A massive bundle of red and pink balloons, which you'd release from above when the time was right. Along with a final present, a cell phone, so they'd finally be able to bug you outside of work hours, like they'd been pleading for since well before you began dating. 

It was a pretty decent plan you thought. So did your now sore throat after blowing up well close to 50 balloons. You were so focused on planning and cleaning, small little grin on your face as you giggle to yourself, that you didn't notice the static figure in the corner of your vision for several moments. 

It takes them clearing their throat for you realize the bot standing to your side. You jump, turning to see—not who you were expecting. 

Sun's rays peek out from under Moon's hat, a combination of their colors blending across their arms and torso. Pants blend from stars to stripes to back again, depending on how they shift from foot to foot while standing there in the dimmed light. You hadn't even caught that they'd softened. 

Eclipse—as they'd said was best to call in when they were in this mode—has their hands behind their back. You can feel the giddiness —and maybe a bit of anxiety?—radiating off them in that moment, and with a grin, turn fully to face the animatronic. 

You sigh. "Alright, what've you got now? Something that can top my wonderful surprise from earlier?"

"Maybe~" They drawl, snickering quietly. "You'll just have to see."

You cross your arms. "Let's get on with it then, but I'm warning you nothing is going to beat—" Your words die in your throat. 

"Surprise! Isn't it lovely? Just like you." Eclipse reveals a small, opened box sitting inside cupped hands. The ring inside sparkling in the light. "What do you think, best Valentine's gift ever, right?"

They laugh, though it quickly dies out once they see the look on your face. 

"Is, something wrong, Starshine?" They ask, voice much, much softer. 

You shake your head, finally able to comprehend what's just occurred. You're, flattered? Shocked? you're not sure what to feel. "I, do... you mean that?"

"Well, of course we do. Why would you think we wouldn't?" Their rays shrink. "We love you, and this is how we're supposed to show it, right?"

Oh. 

Oh.

You start to feel horrible about your reaction, trying to back track in order to explain yourself better. "I, no it's not that I don't—I just wasn't expecting—" You stop, taking a deep breath. "We've only been dating a few weeks and I guess this is very sudden. For me. Does that make sense?"

"Of course, Sunbeam! But we've loved you for a long, long time. Does it matter how long we've been together?" Eclipse tilts their head, you can hear the genuine confusion in their tone and it sends a spark right to your heart. 

"I—" You stop, shaking your head with a laugh. You take a few steps closer to them, reaching your hands up to hold their faceplate. "Don't get me wrong. It's very, very sweet. I love you both too, but let's take a step back for a moment,"—You stand on your tiptoes and plant a kiss to their smile—"Okay?"

Eclipse is frozen for a moment, then, their rays spin a little, giggling softly. "Okay..."

"Come on then." You gently take the ring box from them, depositing it in your pocket for now. Then take both their hands—you're still not quite sure how this works and the last thing you need is either AI getting jealous over the other.

As you sit and explain to them, the box feels heavy in your pocket, but not terribly. And as they realize the significance of the gesture they go from confused, to horrified, to completely and utterly flustered in the span of minutes. It makes that weight into practically nothing, instead, you're far too busy teasing them. In response to that, you get attacked with a flurry of kisses, laughing all the while. 

And as you do, you consider how much you love these two goofs, that maybe you'll consider wearing the ring. Not the traditional way, maybe on a necklace or something. At least for a little while. 

Credit where credit is due, you think they've got you beat this Valentine's day.

But there's always next year.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you @fishm0ther for the lovely little request!! I had fun trying to come up with all sorts of gifts and methods they would use to one up each other hehe ^^

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

[marscardigan]

through the valley, part ix

ellie williams x reader

through the valley masterlist

summary: what if Joel didn’t lie? what if there was more people immune? more people like ellie? more people like you?

word count: 1.5k

warnings: this fic doesn’t follow the original plot from tlou part II. canon typical violence. murder and blood. panic attack. implied abuse.

It was Maria's idea to invite you and Ellie to dinner. The past weeks had been rough, you weren't coping well, and Ellie noticed it.

She told you things would get better, that she also felt misplaced when she first arrived to Jackson. But this was different, you were different.

“We made soup” Maria chimed in, suddenly all the attention focused on you. “Ellie told us it was your favorite meal.”

Maria was nice, she kind of reminded you of your mother somehow. It was rare to find female rulers nowadays. You smiled at her, nodding.

“Thank you.” you whispered, accepting the plate.

Ellie was watching you carefully, like if she didn’t, you may break. You felt watched all the time, and you suddenly felt sixteen again.

Your mother had been just killed, your privacy stolen from you, as well as your voice and your dreams.

Was the room heated? You couldn’t breathe. You dig your nails into the flesh of your thighs, trying to feel something, anything, apart from the pain in your chest.

“Excuse me” You stood up, shutting the conversation. “I, er-uhm need to go to the restroom,”

You didn’t dare to look at Ellie, because you knew she’d realize about your lie. You closed the door and allowed yourself to break. Tears soaked your cheeks, and the pain inside your chest worsened.

Closing your eyes, you tried to remember yourself you were not in Haven. You were safe here, even if it was the last thing you felt now. Even in the darkness that occupied the bathroom, you could feel the tremble of your breaths and the shaking of your fingers, legd moving up and down.

You couldn’t breathe, everything moved too fast, the air didn’t arrive to your lungs. You could hear your mother call your name, desperately worried.

No, it wasn’t your mother’s voice. It was Ellie’s.

“Please, open the door. It’s just me.”

"I-I can't" You answered sincerely. Your legs were still shaking. You heard her sit down, her head resting on the door.

Ellie stayed outside for a while. Maybe fifteen minutes? Twenty? She didn't know. It wasn't until she heard the lock and your wet face that she stood up again.

Her brows were furrowed, and even if she looked concerned, you could see she was tired, exhausted even. Ellie sighed, and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the sink, arms crossed over her chest as she studied your face.

"You scared the shit out of me," she finally said.

You swallowed, still feeling the remains of panic clawing at your throat. "I didn’t mean to."

She looked at her black Converse, shaking her head.

"I know that this may be difficult for you, but it's okay. It doesn’t have to get better overnight. You can take your time."

You wanted to believe her. She meant well, she always did. But she didn’t get it. Ellie reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on your arm. But no words came out from her lips.

You haven't been this close to her for days. Did she look paler? Her eye bags worsened, for sure. And you were the cause of that. A sudden urge of guilt seemed to eat you alive. You shivered at her soft touch.

Ellie exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples like she was trying to hold herself together. "I don’t know what to do anymore," she muttered, shaking her head. "I’ve been trying, I really have, but you won’t let me help you."

"Because you can’t help me, Ellie! You think just because you felt lost when you got here, it’s the same? It’s not! You chose to come to Jackson—I didn’t have a choice! I was supposed to die in that theater!"

Ellie's gaze grew cold. Your words seemed to hit her in her gut, as if you'd just punched her there. I was supposed to die in that hospital. But you took that from me. Her exhaustion quickly turned to anger.

"You don't know what you're talking about." If it wasn't because you were looking at her, you would've not noticed that was her voice.

"I knew this would happen" You insisted, "I knew you wouldn't understand."

Then, Ellie snapped, "Do you even want to get better? Or do you just want to keep sitting in this fucking misery because it’s easier?"

That stung. More than it should have.

"Fuck you," you spat.

Silence. The air between you was thick and heavy, like neither of you could breathe.

Then—

“The hell is goin’ on in here?”

Tommy.

You turned to see him standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed, concern etched deep into his face. You didn't hear the door. Or how suddenly the whole house was quiet. He glanced between you and Ellie, taking in the wreckage of whatever the hell this was.

Ellie exhaled sharply, stepping back like she needed space, like she was barely keeping herself together. "Nothing," she muttered, dragging a hand through her hair. "It’s nothing, Tommy."

Tommy didn’t look convinced. His eyes lingered on Ellie, then shifted to you, softer but still heavy with unspoken things. "Don’t look like nothin’ to me," he said, voice careful.

You suddenly felt sick. Like you were intruding on something too big, too painful.

Like you didn’t belong here at all.

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up. Past Tommy, past the walls that felt like they were closing in, past Ellie’s voice—tired—calling your name.

You ran.

The cold air hit your face like a slap, but it wasn’t enough to stop the burning in your chest. You ran because it was all you knew how to do. Because staying meant facing things you weren’t ready for.

Ellie stayed in Jackson while you left.

The pain in your chest welcomed loneliness again.

Winter arrived before you expected it. You were thankful to have some meat before it rotted, but you had no weapon to defend yourself. Not that you needed one at the moment.

It had been months since you left Jackson, yet it felt like a year had passed. Each day crawled by agonizingly slowly, as if life itself was mocking you. You were staying in an abandoned market when you heard gunshots.

Had Ellie tracked you? Was she the one who fired? The one who got shot? Your head spun with possibilities. Gripping a single stick of wood, you crept closer to the noise.

That’s when you saw them—two men, both armed and bundled in thick coats and gloves. God, you had never been more jealous.

You had nothing to lose, just a frozen rabbit waiting for you back at the market. So you did what you did best—you lied.

“Pl-please! G-God, h-help!” you shrieked, your whole body trembling from the cold. One of them turned, lowering his gun.

You didn’t stop to think about whether they were dangerous or what they might do to you. Whatever it was, it had to be better than freezing to death. Besides, it wouldn’t be anything you hadn’t already endured before.

“Matt! Get over here, fast!” The blond one grabbed your shoulders, steadying you before you could collapse into the snow.

Matt offered you his jacket, and before night fell, your wounds were stitched up, and your stomach was full.

By the bonfire, they shared stories of their past. They seemed concerned about your scars, even offering to take you with them the next day.

They were good people.

That’s why you killed them quickly.

"—and you’re ignoring me again."

Ellie turned to look at Jesse, who had been talking nonstop for the last hour and was starting to get on her nerves.

"Sorry," she muttered, though she wasn’t sorry at all. "What were you saying?"

"All I was saying is that it’s quite impossible for her to have made it this far, especially with the snow."

Ellie knew that. Of course, she did. But she refused to believe it.

At first, after you left, it felt almost liberating. Your absence meant she could focus on herself again. She knew you wouldn’t come back, and that fact alone triggered something in her.

But as the days passed, her survival mode took over. She stopped sleeping, and barely ate. Because when she closed her eyes, all she could see was Joel’s shattered skull, covered in his own blood.

So it had been Jesse’s idea to find you. And everyone knew it was the best option—even Ellie herself. She couldn’t live knowing you were out there, cold, lost, and alone. You being back with Ellie might have something to do with her knowing new information about the blonde girl from Seattle.

You promised her, goddammit. You promised her you would end her together. Especially after what she did to you.

She liked to believe that if she could find you—even if you weren’t alive—it would finally let her rest.

That was before she found the market.

Blood painted every surface, and two corpses hung from thick ropes on the ceiling.

A message covered the wall behind them.

Feel her love.

"It could be more Scars tracking her down," Jesse suggested, trying to sound calm.

"No." That was all Ellie said.

She stepped closer to the wall, pressing her fingers against the streaks of blood. It was still fresh beneath her touch.

"It's her."

next chapter will be the last one!

taglist!

@vahnilla @antobooh @liasxeatt @rhyrhy @autisticintr0vert @culuvr @sevyscoven @alexandra-001

[daughterofthesunlands]

Blessings

a short story about Gil-galad in the Valley of Imladris.

A day and two nights had passed since he had led Eregion's survivors down into the valley of Imladris. While Galadriel recovered from her deadly wound, Elrond and Arondir tended to the soldiers, mothers and their children, who would soon join his people in Lindon. 

The High-King himself had found nor sought rest in those two days. In fact, he had isolated himself from the rest, even Elrond, sought a high hill and stood watch by its cliff. 

Somehow, for whatever reason, he always sought out solitude, wherever he found himself.

The second night, Elrond had surprised him when he appeared out of the nightly shadow of the woods.

"High King."

He turned only slightly to peek over his shoulder as he heard his voice.

"Why won't you rest? I can keep watch in your stead."

"No," he breathed gently, before he turned his head again. "I'm the King. I need to keep watch over my people. As vulnerable as they are, now more than before. And you, as one of my subjects, should also be resting."

Elrond lowered his head, a weak smile tugging at the corner of his lips, before he looked up again, this time lifting his eyes up enough to gaze at the stars in the night sky.

"...even in Lindon you act as though the sun never sets, High King." he said, stepping closer.

"The High tree, always keeping you company."

"I consider it a blessing," Ereinion replied, this time turning some more to meet Elrond's eyes. "to be able to watch over Elvenkind. I do not take it for granted."

"When the Varda created the stars as our kind slept, we awoke to their light as a blessing from them. ... I like to believe that rest is when blessings befall us." the Herald almost whispered the last words, before he lowered his eyes back onto his King.

"Good night, my King."

He heard the elf retreat back into the forest. Just as he did, a gentle breeze found the cliff. Briefly, he closed his eyes and exhaled as the winds combed through his hair. 

——————————————————————————————————

The sun rose after what to him seemed only hours after.

Soon, his fixated gaze on the end of the trees that surrounded the valley broke, as the people awoke and began to grow lively with noise. As he watched them move about, he began to toy with the idea to come down from the hill. He loved his subjects, but he never had been keen to interact too much with them. In his first century as King, he had been advised to act so. He remembered it being difficult at first. Then, with time, he began to crave company less.

Now, it almost seemed an almost strange need if he ponders on it for too long. Its memory, almost completely eroded. He had long forgotten how to soften his rigid ways. Children mostly, called forth in him feelings of timidness. He never knew how to deal with them...he'd accepted that he never would.

The sudden loud sound of the people pulled him out of his mind. As his eyes found them again, he realized what had caused them to cheer: The dwarves had arrived with food. He rose from the trunk he'd sat on and began to make his descent back into the valley. 

As he arrived, the Elven children were still running out of their tents to join the dwarven soldiers, who were generously filling their little hands with bread and fruit. Elrond was beside them, handing out covers and blankets to the mothers, wielding a smile Gil-galad thought he would never see again.

The King gently found his way through the children, trying to ignore the smallest as they suddenly stood still and stared at him as he moved on, towering over them. As he advanced, Elrond saw him out of the corner of his eye, and he too halted, overcome with surprise. 

Narvi, who had come, followed Elrond's eyes. And when he did, he, too, found the King.

Gil-galad meet the dwarf's eyes only for an instant, before he diverted his eyes and bowed his head. 

"Thank you for coming to our aid in this time."

Narvi looked at Elrond, before he nodded, bowing in turn. 

"The King and the Queen told me to let you know to only ask if your people require more of our aid, your Highness."

"We will be forever grateful."

Narvi extended an apple to him. He took it, nodding as a weak smile appeared on his lips. As he lowered his eyes, he startled as he met the dozen little pairs of eyes that had fixated him, looking up at him as if he was a strange creature that had appeared among them and had drawn them in by his aura. By his foot stood a very young girl with a head full of red curls, holding onto a bitten plum that seemed so big between her small hands. When their eyes met, a smile appeared on her face. 

He in turn diverted his eyes almost timidly, clearing his throat before he slowly backed away and turned to make his way back. Narvi watched in bewilderment as something in the tall and strong Elven King suddenly shifted. 

The children turned their heads and followed him with their eyes as he silently walked away, growing smaller in the distance. 

—————————————————————————————————

He'd long passed the last tent. As he'd walked, he'd suddenly found himself overcome by exhaustion. He had not noticed that the grass had begun to grow everso taller and that flowers had begun to appear like colourful dots in the green sea he was crossing, until it reached his knees. All his eyes acknowledged were the Oak tree, that grew everso closer. Its comforting shade called his name.

When he reached it, he found soft moss at its roots. 

He exhaled, looking over his shoulder. He could still see the tents. 

He could keep watch from here. 

So he put down his sword first, laying it into the moss, before he lowered himself against the trunk of the old tree. His eyes remained open...until they did not. The wind and the bird's sounded in his ears, until he suddenly heard them no longer. Slumber claimed the Elven King. The apple he had held onto rolled out of his grasp, into the low grass that surrounded the tree's roots.

Silence reigned for a long moment, when the high grass suddenly rustled.

It was silent enough not to wake him. 

Out came the little girl with the red hair. Out of breath, she halted as she saw him asleep against the tall, old tree. 

In her little hands, she carried only the heads of various flowers she had picked on the way, as she had silently followed him.

Almost too many to hold all by herself. 

Her eyes wandered over his Face. Strands of his long brown hair moved from the kind wind. His brows were relaxed, and his face was gentle.

She then noticed the hand the apple had rolled out of. It made her remember picking flowers and giving them to her father to carry when hey took walks in the forest that lay not far out from Eregion. Her father's hands had always been big enough to carry all the petals she had found.

She had not seen him since they left the city.

She approached him almost carelessly, coming to a stand right next to him, before she knelt into the grass, sitting down. She emptied her hands into the grass, before she then picked up the first flower head, an oxeye daisy, and let it fall into his open hand. Carefully, she looked up to study his face to see if he'd awoken.

When he hadn't, she took one after the next and placed it in his hand, until he, in the end, held the colourful heap of them. When she was finished, she clumsily took the apple and took a bite, looking around and listening to the sounds of the forest behind them.

Her eyes found him again. His eyes were still closed. 

Slowly she got up, dropping the apple as she did, and walked back into the grass, only to return with a daisy she had this time picked by its stem. She looked at his hand full of flowers. 

There was no more space left to place this one.

So she placed it into the King's lap.

It was the gentle brush of her fingers against his thigh that made his eyes move behind his lids and his slowed breath liven again. The little girl startled at his sudden movement, and ran away, back towards the other children.

As Ereinion's eyes fluttered open, he saw the tall grass move.

Only after did the sensation of the weight in his hand make him shift his eyes, to find that the apple he had been given by Narvi had been bitten. 

And that blessings had befallen him as he had rested.

Wordcount: 1.509 words Characters: Ereinion Gil-galad, Elrond & Narvi Location: Imladris

Just something sweet I thought writing about for weeks now. :)

[goneahead]

here is a (long) bit from one of the three WIPs currently in the hopper. yup, its Hallmark Christmas House Tour AU. um, sorry?

Steve had dragged himself out of bed three times. Twice to let the dogs out, once to feed them. Each time, he’d promised himself he would throw some clothes on, and go work out. Only to find himself crawling back into bed instead.

A cold nose snuffling his ear woke him for the fourth time. He cracked open one eye. “I'm up, OK? I’m up.”

Houston gave a happy woof, while Austin danced around in excited circles.

Steve sat up with a groan, rubbing his shoulder. Fuck. He hated jetlag. Of course 8IA didn’t care—they had scheduled photoshoots in three different countries in the past month. At least he had a few weeks off—and then he had to do some stupid ESPN sport thing in Honolulu.

He got up, dragged on a pair of sweatpants, stumbled to the patio door. Let the boys out, glanced at his watch. Almost eleven o’clock. He padded into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, and then opened the fridge, because he was starving.

He’d bought groceries last night, but assembling any of it into something edible seemed like a lot of effort. He was still staring at the contents of his fridge, when the sound of scratching at the patio door brought him back to reality.

He went over, let the dogs in—and swore when the doorbell rang. Why was anyone disturbing him on a Saturday—oh shit. The damn interior designer.

And he was in his oldest sweatpants. And nothing else.

Damnit.

For one fleeting second, Steve considered putting on real clothes. Instead he ordered the dogs to stop barking, and padded to the door. He opened it, expecting—well, an interior designer. Instead, there was a short guy, in a dress shirt and slacks, standing on his porch.

Muscular, broad shoulders, blond hair, and blue eyes. Exactly the kind of guy Steve would date—if he was allowed to date.

“Hi. I’m Danny Williams.” Those blue eyes flicked down to the holes in Steve’s sweatpants, back up. “My sister Stella called you yesterday?”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve was really regretting not getting dressed now. He waved the dogs back. “Come in. And don’t mind the dogs. They’re friendly.”

Danny gave him an overly polite smile, stepped inside.

“Would you, uh, like coffee?” He turned around—and realized he’d just dropped his luggage in the hall last night.

“Sure.” Danny followed him, stepping around the luggage. His tone was now hovering somewhere between ‘I’m being professional’ and ‘I’m dealing with a crazy person’. “I’d love a cup.”

So much for making a good first impression.

Steve mentally kicked himself for not remembering the appointment as he headed to the kitchen. At least his kitchen was clean—because he’d ordered a pizza last night and then crashed.

He poured two cups. “You take milk or sugar?”

“Black’s fine.” Danny’s eyes now flicked to the dining room. “So, how long have you owned this place?”

“Nine years.” He started to take a sip of coffee, stopped when Danny gave him an odd look. “Why?”

“I was just—expecting more furniture.”

Steve was about to point out that he had furniture, except—he’d finally gotten rid of his two ridiculously uncomfortable couches several months ago. And he’d been so busy traveling, that he’d never replaced them.

He’d also never gotten around to buying a dining room table, because he normally ate at the kitchen island, or used the table on the side deck.

“I haven’t had a lot of down time.” The excuse sounded lame, even to him.

“Uh huh.” Danny set his mug down. “Have you eaten?”

Steve opened his mouth, but Danny continued talking. “That’s what I thought. You know, the best way to deal with a hangover is to eat something.”

And then he opened Steve’s fridge, and started pulling out various things.

Steve opened his mouth to protest he wasn’t hungover—then closed it because Danny had grabbed a knife from the knife block and a cutting board from the dish drainer, and was now chopping up a tomato.

Very competently chopping up a tomato.

Maybe it was because he was so fucking tired, but Steve was having trouble figuring out what the hell he was supposed to do. The hottest guy he’d ran into in years was doing cooking stuff. In his kitchen.

“I need a bowl.” Danny moved on to chopping up deli meat. “And a pan and a spatula.”

He found himself pulling down a bowl, grabbing a frying pan and a spatula. And setting out a couple of plates and forks.

“Thanks.” Danny pointed the knife toward one of the stools. “I got this. Sit down and drink some coffee. Or better yet, grab some water. Trust me, it’ll help.”

Steve gave up. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and sat down. “Austin, Houston, stay out of his way.”

“It’s OK, I’m used to it.” He finished chopping up everything, began breaking eggs into the bowl. “My sister has a golden retriever who’s always under foot. Whisk?”

“Second drawer to your right.” He tried to ignore how Danny’s biceps flexed as he cracked eggs. “So, uh, how did you become an interior designer?”

“Well, it turns out there are two ways to become an interior designer.” He found the whisk, started mixing the eggs. “One, you go to design school, then you apprentice with someone for a while, before striking out on your own.”

He finished, turned, and put the pan on the stove—and damn, Steve was having a hard time not staring at how Danny’s pants hugged his ass. “Or two, you graduate from the police academy, promise to serve, honor, and protect—only to wake up one day to find yourself picking chintz out of a line up.”

Steve hadn't seen that one coming. “You were a cop?”

“I was. But it’s not the best career choice if you’re a single dad, so—” He shrugged, poured the eggs in the pan. Waved the spatula at the fridge. “I’m assuming that you like pretty much anything but mushrooms?”

Damnit. Of course Danny would be straight. And have a kid.

“I like mushrooms, I just didn’t buy any.” Steve reminded himself that it didn’t matter. As long as he was under contract, he was straight.

“One omelet, with everything but not-bought-mushrooms, coming up.” Danny poked at the eggs with a spatula, then dumped all the stuff on the cutting board directly into the pan. A minute later, he expertly folded the omelet, slid it onto one of the plates.

Houston and Austin watched the entire procedure with great interest.

“Sorry, this is strictly human food.” Danny divided the omelet, placing the bigger half onto the second plate. He set it in front of Steve. “Eat.”

Steve took a bite—and had to suppress a moan. The omelet was fluffy, and full of cheese and ham and tomato. “This is really good.”

“Thanks.” Danny gave him a smile—a real smile. It made his eyes look even more blue.

“So, uh,” Steve shoved in another bite, “do you cook for all your clients?”

“Nope. Just the ones that are hungover,” Danny’s smile widened as he sat down, “and the ones who don’t have any furniture.”

“I’ve been meaning to replace the couches; I’ve just been busy.”

Danny looked at him for a long moment. “Steve, why did you put your home on a Christmas tour? You haven’t finished moving in.”

You haven’t finished moving in.

The words crashed into him like a rogue wave. He’d owned the place for nine years and yet, it just felt like another hotel room. And honestly, his old condo in Honolulu had felt the same way.

Steve hesitated, then went for the truth. “Because Kono kept bugging me. She works at the—”

“—pet store. Yes, I know Kono. Apparently, a condition of my employment is that I have to buy both Christmas and birthday gifts for my sister’s dog.” He waved his fork in the air. “The way I see it, you have two options. You can withdraw from the tour, and then you can spend another nine years trying to find time to buy a couch. Or—you can run up the white flag and let us do it for you.”

Steve finished the omelet, pushed the plate away. Until thirty minutes ago, being in the same room with an interior designer was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do. But maybe hiring somebody—if that somebody was Danny—wouldn’t be so bad. “The Christmas tour’s in three weeks.”

“Trust me, I know. Lucky for you, most people don’t schedule an overhaul of their house during the holidays—so we can squeeze you in.” Danny waved his fork some more. “If you’re interested, I can take some photos and measurements; get you a quote by Sunday or Monday.”

The thought pushed in that if he hired Danny, everything would be done by December 17th. Sure, he would still have to endure the three day Christmas tour, but—he wouldn’t have to worry about buying couches. Or finding time to deal with his half-finished office.

“Earth to Steve?”

“Would $78,000 be enough?” Steve had overhead someone bragging about dropping $78,000 on redecorating their place at the last party he was at. At the time it had seemed an outrageous amount—but he was so damn sick of living in hotel rooms. “To do everything?”

“That would most definitely cover it, yeah. I’m still going to give you a quote, so you’ll know what you’re paying for.” Danny pulled out his phone, checked something. “Any chance that you are free either Monday or Tuesday? The sooner we pick out some furniture, the better. That way, it can be delivered as soon as the painting is done.”

“Monday’s good.” Steve said it quickly, before he could second-guess himself.

“Great—because three weeks doesn’t give us a lot of time.” Danny finished the last bite of omelet, took another swallow of coffee. “OK, why don’t we start by having you give me the grand tour?”

Please share an excerpt from a current project

[vero-lynn]

PLEEEEEEASE elaborate on your angsty jam headcanons I thrive off of those and am currently starving

Rubs my hands together. Oh anon, oh anon... There's so much on my mind when it comes to them.

Jam is so interesting to me because Jay was clearly very distant from the beginning, definitely because of his experiences with Masky. Like, he'd be colder than necessary sometimes while Tim would always be trying to joke and lighten up the mood - that was ignored most of the time by Jay.

Jay obviously doesn't want to be alone, he depended on totheark, and then clung to Alex as much as he could even if he clearly disliked the guy, and then to Tim. Jay works with people he doesn't trust/like because he just doesn't want to be alone and it's soooo :(.

I don't think Jay feels safe or comfortable around Tim AT ALL. That's someone who jumped him so many times, and even if Tim doesn't remember - Jay DOES. I wouldn't say he's scared of Tim, nah, but he's definitely keeping his distance. I'd say he's jumpy and ready to defend himself if necessary, while also clinging to him, it's just such an interesting dynamic to watch.

Not to mention - jay probably doesn't remember how nice, funny and cheerful Tim used to be back when they were shooting marble hornets. The things he remembers are the bad moments he had with Masky, and then also being punched by Tim himself. (Deserved, but definitely also shook his trust and all.)

Tim on the other hand doesn't remember jay AT ALL, and yet he's so friendly to him from the first time he contacted him. He cares so much about him later on too, anytime he'd call his name in such worry just makes me so upset because Tim KNOWS what jay is going through, and he has to blame himself SO MUCH for how bad his condition was/for not noticing it sooner. (Because again, Tim already remembered jay to be distant and colder, he also didn't remember the way he was before, so it was easier to miss the shift and symptoms.)

Anyway - Jam is very dear to me because during the time Jay was out of it after the encounter with the operator, Tim took care of him and was so nice and caring.. he never once blamed jay for his outbursts or when he'd be mean because he knows he's being influenced, it just means so much to me ahhhh...

Jay had to feel really sick during that time too, so I'm sure they spent a lot of time together, and yet Jay probably remembers NONE of the comfort Tim provided.

Side note - the way masky refused to come out later on is also so dear to me because I see him as someone who wanted to keep Tim safe and stable, and when he noticed he wanted to face his fears by himself, he let him. With jay. With someone he clearly disliked and wanted gone. Jay helped Tim to finally stop running and that is so..

They're so dear to me..

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Link found it strange that he was being summoned to the observation room. Usually if the queen needed him, she’d just call him to the throne room at the end of her busy day. If it was less official she would come find him with the children.

When he reached the room in question, he glanced around. Guards flanked the entrance as usual, and the area was devoid of all else save the queen, who stood up on the balcony looking out at the city.

Link had sometimes ventured to this room over the years, far more so recently, but sometimes it left him feeling too exposed. He moved slowly up the small stairway to the upper level, feeling the cool breeze of winter’s periphery slowly fading away.

Zelda was dressed warmly, wearing attire that reminded him of the war. He recalled the last year of the war had been unseasonably cold, making things more miserable, and Zelda had taken to wearing two dresses layered over each other. Although she had favored pinks and reds and golds as a princess, she typically wore shades of blue or green nowadays to honor the goddesses of wisdom and courage. Her dark blue gown that she wore today, embroidered with silver around the trim, was no different. He could see the pale pink underdress at her collar, with the blue one’s collar far lower and wider than the layer underneath. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she watched the sunset.

Entering the balcony, Link questioned, “You needed me?”

The queen turned toward him a little, green eyes sparkling in the golden light. “I got a concerning update from the Gerudo Desert in a meeting today. I thought you might be interested.”

Link felt dread fill his stomach, but he kept his face guarded. “What news?”

“There’s a possibility of fighting on the horizon,” Zelda explained. When Link’s eyes widened in alarm, she clarified, “Not us. It’s within themselves.”

Link didn’t know how to feel, nor why Zelda was relaying this to him. He was certainly relieved there wasn’t another war brewing, but what was wrong? Was Hemisi alright?

What did Zelda want out of this?

“I don’t know the politics of the Gerudo tribe too well, I’m afraid,” the queen continued, looking back at Castle Town. “But it seems there are some who are unhappy with Chief Hemisi’s leadership.”

That was… Link tried to parse this out. He knew next to nothing of what Hemisi had been up to over the years, only that through her efforts the Gerudo had survived. He knew there had been skirmishes between her and the Hyrulian Marshall - it was part of the reason he had been sent to negotiate a trade deal with her years ago. But after he’d returned he’d pointedly avoided any information pertaining to the desert or its people. While he had occasionally kept Hemisi in his prayers, he’d really not considered her much… at least as much as possible. He had to focus on his children, on the Sheikah, on actually being a functional person.

In the end, he’d known she’d take care of herself. If she’d survived that cursed war and, more importantly, managed to pick herself up after what he’d done to her, she could survive anything.

More to the point, though, Zelda wouldn’t be telling him this just for information’s sake.

Before he could inquire, the queen sighed. “It’s sad that there always seems to be an issue there nowadays. I recall when they first came to the castle years ago. Father wouldn’t let me near them, but they seemed a vibrant people. I wish I’d known them for more than just war.”

This conversation was not going the way he thought it would. Link approached her slowly until he stood beside her, following her gaze down to the city below. They were too high up to see much detail, but he could still make out people going about their business in the central square.

“Do you think their capital once looked like ours?” Zelda asked.

The king smiled, eyes growing distant as he remembered his earlier years. But the smile faded quickly. “It… did. A little. Different architecture, more vibrant colors. Far different culture.”

The queen looked at him, surprised. “You saw their capital before it was destroyed? Or were you there when—”

“No,” Link answered strongly. “I was not there when that monster chose to burn it to the ground. I visited it a few times before the war.”

Zelda swallowed, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “I didn’t sanction that order.”

“I know,” Link said far more gently, reassuring her. “You would never give such an order. The general took matters into his own hands. What I don’t like is that he is still viewed as a hero for it.”

The queen stiffened, arms coming up to hug herself as her brow furrowed. “It was a hard lesson that I learned that day. I… I wanted to punish him. But I was advised against it, and I saw how people cheered and celebrated.”

Link didn’t comment. He knew that who history determined to be a hero was hardly based on who actually deserved it.

Goddesses knew he didn’t deserve the title. At least not anymore.

But this conversation was still strange. Zelda had to be discussing this for a reason. “Do you think we might get pulled into their problems?”

Their problems. As if they were just foreigners, as if the chief wasn’t a beloved friend, a—

Shut up! He snapped at himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. There was a reason he tried not to think about the Gerudo.

“I don’t know,” Zelda answered evenly, relaxing. “Father never paid attention to the Gerudo until they brought themselves to him. Obviously we don’t have that luxury, give the history.”

“Why not?” Link asked. “We shouldn’t meddle.”

“Everything and everyone is interconnected,” the queen replied sagely, facing the city once more. “Father lived in his own world, only wanting validation and safety, and he cared for nothing outside that. Affairs of other lands were not his problem. I know better than that. It’s why I’ve been watching the Zora conflict as well.”

There was a Zora conflict? Was everyone having troubles these days?

“I remember when the Gerudo came, he told me to stay away from them. He said they were dangerous,” Zelda commented softly, seemingly nostalgic. “It makes no sense that…”

She bit her lip. Link supplied carefully, “That he let them take the Triforce?”

She sighed heavily. “He always said Ganondorf was not as great a threat as I claimed, yet he was the one who said it first. But I think he only said it to me because he didn’t want me exposed.”

Link leaned against the stone railing of the balcony, facing her fully, tilting his head to the side. Was this actually about the Gerudo, or simply Zelda needing to vent about her father?

It was certainly a strange way to go about it. But the queen did seem to be in a strange mood.

A small, sardonic smile pulled at Zelda’s lips, and she huffed. “You know, I think my father had grown fond of their prince, Merovar. Took him under his wing in a sense. I… I think he wanted us to marry.”

Link stared. Stared a little longer. Let the words sink in.

And then he laughed.

King Ozen had wanted Zelda to marry Merovar? Had Ganondorf even known, even realized—

Reality swam away and swirled and crumbled and shuddered and buried him, and he laughed all the harder.

He could’ve won. He could’ve won and he didn’t even know it.

Zelda did not seem to know why her husband had started wheezing hysterically, and her own mild bitterness crumbled away into concern.

Link didn’t realize he’d started crying until he saw her watching him worriedly.

“Hylia,” he gasped breathlessly, wiping the tears away hastily. “I’m sorry, I—your father was an idiot.”

And so was mine.

He shook the thought away. Ganondorf had never been his father.

Zelda’s eyebrows rose at his words, at his bluntness, but he didn’t rescind them. Did she not realize? If Ozen had wed Zelda to Merovar, to the Gerudo kingdom’s heir, then it would have been a power play to see whose kingdom would absorb the other… and it was obvious who would have won.

Ganondorf could have gotten the Triforce without lifting a finger. But his hunger for power was insatiable and impatient.

He could have won.

Link wished he’d never learned this, but he still found it hilarious. He hoped, somehow, that the demon king’s torn up, twisted soul could learn it too, that he could have gotten what he’d wanted if he’d just not been a monster and not started a war.

But there was far too much anger and pain and possibility to get lost in with such knowledge, so he simply tried to move the conversation forward. “Is that why you called me, then? To tell me of the Gerudo affairs?”

Zelda swallowed, growing serious once more. “Yes. I apologize for getting side tracked, I’ve just been nostalgic lately, I suppose.”

He should probably ask her about that, but he’d do so later. Maybe. If she stopped by another time instead of summoning him. This was official business.

“I just… am concerned. About the outcome of this.” Zelda continued. “We do not know much of this other faction’s leader. Chief Hemisi does not like Hyrule, but I know she will not attack us outright.”

Link stiffened. “You think this other faction would?”

“I don’t know enough,” she repeated uncertainly.

Ah. Zelda hated not being control. He did know that.

“I can ready the troops,” he said to assure her, praying it wouldn’t be necessary. He knew it wouldn’t be - Hemisi wouldn’t let this usurper win.

“Perhaps just… ensure the Sheikah have arsenal available,” Zelda answered carefully. “There has been no fighting yet.”

Link nodded. And he noticed—in this light, the queen looked rather… exhausted. He wondered how much this was truly bothering her.

“Hyrule will be safe,” he assured her. “I promise.”

With that, the king departed, and both monarchs were left with hearts full of worry.

[baffledandbewildered]

“Evi4 - can you kill me with the mace at some point?” Betty asks.

“Yes!” Evi says immediately.

It’s been an eventful week - few weeks, honestly - and - well. 

Betty’s been scared of the mace for a while now… it’s a terrifying weapon, and whenever Evi’s used it before she’s always skittered back, all nervous laughter and shaking hands - she remembers that weapon crashing against her helmet, Chips yelling at her to run, be afraid -

And she has been. It’s been months and honestly - she’s sick of it. Especially after what Chips said to her the other day, after Nara - Betty knows Chips is hurting, that they probably didn’t mean what they said, she understands that, she’s not mad - well. She is. A little. The feeling will fade with time, she knows, but for now…

“I want to know what it feels like,” Betty explains. It’s true, but also - I want to stop being afraid.

Evi giggles. “I understand!” And he probably does, even the stuff Betty isn’t saying out loud. He’s always been good at that.

“Should we - now?”

“Yes yes yes yes!”

To make room in her e-chest, Betty hands Evi one of her shulkers - it’s a far cry from where they were a few months ago, when anything left in the vicinity of Evi4 had to be carefully watched for fear of theft - it’s nice, to be able to know that Evi won’t take anything from her without it first being offered. It’s nice to trust.

Evi suggests setting her spawn here - Betty, once again, refuses - her spawnpoint isn’t too far away, and while it’s not the most secure it’s still better than, well - spawn itself. But Evi doesn’t take the refusal personally - Evi knows where her spawnpoint is currently, and really that probably says enough about how far they’ve come as a relationship.

Then she removes her armour, e-chests her gear, and Evi builds a short tower into the sky -

“Ready?”

“Yep!”

There’s not even time for the sound of their laughter to fade before the mace is crashing against her head and she’s gone, respawning in the deepslate box - she really needs to change her spawn point. 

Wow. That was - something. But not as terrifying as she expected - if anything, the tightness in her chest is from laughter. She picks up her communicator, still giggling - Evi’s complaining about how far away she is as she starts putting her armour back on.

Yeah. That wasn’t scary at all - it hurt, sure, but all deaths do and she doesn’t mind that so much - especially when it’s Evi, that’s…

“I’m kind of scared you’re going to kill me,” Betty had said, long long ago, when she was still alone and scared and felt she had no one to turn to.

And Evi had stopped her pacing of spawn, sword disappearing from her hand in less than a second. There’s not much Evi took seriously, or so Betty had thought at the time, but she looked… concerned, before her face brightened.

“I would never hurt a BettyisBaffled!” Evi4 said, grinning, dancing forward into her personal space a little.

“Oh!” Betty said. “Really? I - uh. Thank you?”

She hadn't believed it then. It took a while, multiple murder attempts on the people around her but never coming close to touching her before she realised Evi was telling the truth.

She’s still not sure why.

And then they became allies and then they became more and this time Betty offered her life - “You can kill me! I don’t mind -” … I kinda want you to.

(Yeah, Betty’s a little weird about the. Dying thing.)

And then one thing had led to another to another, to murder plots and engagement and secrets shared, and all that led to today.

The mace feels… like the same sort of power of a lightning strike, inescapable, deadly. A force of nature. Not necessarily bad, not necessarily good.

Not something to be unreasonably scared of, and she giggles again. Wow.

She digs her way out of the room, through the tiny box in the wall Evi made himself so he could watch Betty and Nara kill each other - there’s still some of her and Nara’s blood on the floor, she notes - she really needs to change her spawnpoint, she keeps meaning to, Nara and Aster keep reminding her to and she keeps forgetting.

Then she flies back to spawn. Evi’s been rambling in her communicator the whole time, and when Betty lands in front of them they’re beaming at the sight of her - gods, Betty is so lucky. 

This is her fiance - the label makes her a little giddy. “Hiii - I love you by the way,” she says breathlessly, and Evi buries his face in his hands - she can see the blush on his cheeks and it makes her giggle, lean up to kiss him on the forehead before turning to the chest beside them.

Betty grabs the rest of her stuff she wasn’t able to fit in a shulker, then -

“Oh, can I have the heart back?” she says.

“Yes!”

Evi jumps up from the shulker box they’d been sitting on - they’re so much taller than her damn - then they’re leaning down to kiss her, and that’s hardly unusual but what has her gasping is the feel of the heart passing between their lips, travelling down her throat and settling along her collarbone with only the slightest flicker of pain as it joins the others.

She laughs. Wow. Wow.

Her fiance. Yep.

“I love you,” Evi says shyly, and Betty echoes it immediately, beaming.

Evi presses another kiss to her forehead, then is pacing spawn again - “Wait -” they say, spinning back to her. “Let me try to mace you again it won’t kill you I promise -”

Betty laughs. “Okay! With the armour?”

Evi nods rapidly, once again climbing the carpet tower. “Heartcount test!” Evi yells, giggling, then jumps -

Betty respawns in the deepslate box again. “What the fuck oh my god how were you on full health how did you die -” Evi4’s saying through her communicator, and Betty can’t stop laughing.

[randomfoggytiger]

The Truth Is Out There: David Duchovny, Collaborator and Vancouver Captive

1995 David Duchovny was grimly resigned to five unexpected, grueling years in Vancouver. (Thankfully for philes-- and his pocketbook-- he stuck around and contributed heavily to the series, including the idea which connected Mulder's family to the Conspiracy.) He was also very chatty and very complainy; and, even then, tended to gravitate to lower-stakes projects that put little pressure on him (acting is, after all, something he wanted, even then, to remain "fun".)

Previous parts of Brian Lowry's Book 1 here, here, and here. Transcripts below will be fonted in italics.

BITS FROM THE BOOK

Before the [first] season began, Fox officials were clearly more effusive in praising "Brisco County" and its star, Bruce Campbell, than The X-Files. In that regard, when Grushow commented that he’d “eat my desk” if Campbell didn’t become a star, Duchovny’s competitive spirit was piqued, feeling like The X-Files was being dismissed and slighted. Carter remembers Duchovny returning from an event where Grushow made those comments and joking about serving him the condiments for that meal. The attitude, Duchovny says, was that Fox was touting the other show and treating their entry as an afterthought-- as if it were “and oh yeah, there’s this other little show called The X-Files.” 

The net effect, in fact, turned out to benefit the show on virtually every level-- creating, as Duchovny puts it, “a unique mythology for television.” The complex alien abduction/government conspiracy story that was concocted to explain Anderson’s brief hiatus actually solidified the Mulder-Scully bond, striking an extremely responsive chord with the show’s hard-core fans. As Duchovny points out, there were also parallels between Scully’s abduction and that of Mulder’s sister, giving their relationship even more emotional resonance. 

…One of those regularly contributing ideas [to the second season] is Duchovny, who’s become personally close with Carter (the two are occasional squash partners) and has shared story credit with him on certain episodes. 

The producer has no qualms about letting his star in on that process. “He’s got good ideas for the show,” notes Carter. “Why not use them?” As for Duchovny, he says that once it became apparent the show would be around for a while, he had an interest as an actor in making his character as interesting as possible to play. 

As for Duchovny, the actor had little enthusiasm about doing a television series at the time-- his feature career having taken a promising turn with "Kalifornia", which cast him opposite Brad Pitt. The X-Files turned out to be the only pilot script his manager decided to send him that year. “I read it, and I thought it was a really good story and that UFOs would get boring after three or four episodes,” Duchovny recalls. ‘I thought I could go to Vancouver for a month and get paid, and then go on and do my next movie.” 

“I love it!” Bowman proclaims as the scene ends, watching the shot through a monitor and lauding his star as “One-take Duchovny.” 

…Bowman has to deal with five actors (Anderson, Duchovny, and Gunmen Dean Haglund, Bruce Harwood, and Braidwood) in a relatively confined space, so the staging will be critical. After Bowman aligns them one way, Duchovny suggests an alternative in handling the shot, and various configurations are tried. As they begin rehearsing, everyone still seems a bit punchy, and the mood is light. Haglund keeps wanting to call a Nazi scientist “Kempler” instead of “Klemper”, and Duchovny has a hard time not laughing each time Braidwood (who comes up roughly to the actor’s chin) approaches him, with Frohike supposed to act relieved to see Mulder alive after the events that closed the second season. “Did you ever see the 'Star Trek; where Spock thought that Kirk died?” Duchovny tells him with his trademark deadpan delivery. ‘That’s what you want to be doing.” 

IN HIS OWN WORDS

…By virtue of starring in “The X-Files”, Duchovny also seems destine to have a shot at major feature-film stardom, but again, not via the precise route anyone assumed he’d follow. …Duchovny felt he was on his way and as a result had serious doubts about doing a television series. “It’s like a horse race,” he observes, enjoying a relaxed moment, clad in work shirt, boots, and jeans outside his trailer on “The X-Files” set in Vancouver. “You’ve got fifteen guys who are going to be ‘the next big thing,’ and three of those guys are going to finish.

“I was making a living,” he notes. “It seemed like I would get my shot at some point.”

Duchovny was willing to wait for his chance. He’d done some interesting features, and thanks to the vagaries of Hollywood, he knew a hit movie-- any hit movie-- would move him up to the next echelon of actors. “I always had an abiding belief that things would work out for me,” he says. “I didn’t know how. And then my manager, who was agreeing with me in that I didn’t want to do any television, sent me the script for ‘The X-Files’ because she thought it was a really good script. She read all the pilots, and that was the only one she sent me.” 

Duchovny remembers thinking he could do the pilot-- getting paid to spend a month or so in Vancouver-- and then be off to his next feature. In the midst of another 12- or 14-hour day, he can only shrug at the irony, adding with a sly grin, “It didn’t really work out that way.” 

…Prone to introspection as he is, however, Duchovny feels the weight of the expectations riding on him and wears the mantle of stardom uneasily, having found that sudden celebrity is not without its drawbacks on a personal level. 

…”Year one was just about survival-- am I physically going to survive? It’s what I imagine those triathletes feel: When you first start competing you just want to finish, then eventually you start wanting to get a good time. 

“There were many days the first year when I would just go home and think, ‘I can’t do it. I can’t go back to work anymore.’”

Although that situation didn’t ease much in terms of shooting requirements during the second season-- particularly with costar Gillian Anderson’s pregnancy compelling Duchovny to shoulder more responsibility for a time-- the actor found the show’s creative direction alone lightening the burden. “Last year I just think the work was so much better. That was kind of inspiring,” he says. 

Ever a tough critic, Duchovny felt there were some good episodes the first year and enjoyed doing something that was different from most primetime television shows. As for his contribution, he says he was “occasionally kind of happy with my work.” 

By contrast, in the second season, he believes, “we really became the best show on television,” saying he’s grateful that the series survived so its performers, writers and directors had the opportunity to mature together. The third season will be more of the same, he predicts, with trademark sarcasm, “before we slide back into mediocrity.” 

…Stardom does have some advantages, in that Duchovny has been able to add his stamp to the show creatively, providing story ideas and helping contribute to “The X-Files” mythology….

…Part of Duchovny’s goal has been to flesh out the character of Fox Mulder-- which, he points out, was understandably vague when the show began-- in order to make the part more enticing for him as a performer. “It’s definitely been exciting, just something added to my experience, in terms of being able to guide the destiny of the character,” he explains. “Because the character had no destiny. Like any TV show, you’re forced to eventually create a history for the character that it never had.” 

Once “The X-Files” had survived the initial Nielsen weeding-out process and he and Carter realized the show was going to be around for a while, Duchovny offers, “it became important to me as an actor to make that history as interesting as I could.” 

The second-season finale, entitled “Anasazi,” and revelations about Mulder’s family played out in the two opening episodes of the third season, offer such mythic highlights, exploring Mulder’s character and family history, down to his father’s role in alien experimentation. Those episodes also shed light on the abduction of Mulder’s sister, Samantha, which figured prominently in the character’s motivation….

Those episodes, he maintains, couple with earlier story arcs have “created a unique mythology for television in the character, and I’m really proud of that fact-- that I was conscious enough to say to Chris, ‘Look, I have some ideas, I want to be involved with the creation of this myth.’” 

Duchovny contends that Anderson’s pregnancy and brief absence unwittingly contributed to that emotional resonance. Having Mulder search for her echoed the loss he felt in losing his sister, while Scully’s abduction gave her an experience to draw upon-- all of which, in Duchovny’s eyes, provided “raw material to use in the future.” 

According to the actor, the depth of those episodes stands above “a kind of formula that we were drifting into the middle of last year” with stand-alone installments dealing with whatever monsters and/or paranormal phenomena the writers could dream up….

Now the show can go back and forth, delving into its mythology, then pulling back to do more standard and self-contained episodes. “The intensity’s too much, and it can get melodramatic,” Duchovny says regarding the need to break up the mythology segments, adding that the producers have achieved a “nice balance now” between the two. 

Seemingly as much of a perfectionist as Carter, Duchovny acknowledges that he occasionally bristles when he’s presented with a deluge of gobbledygook dialogue-- those sequences where Mulder launches into remarkably detailed explanations about some event or series of events from the past. “At first it was almost impossible-- it’s kind of a muscular thing,” he says. “You try and make it interesting from an acting point of view…. [But] sometimes it’s just like you memorize… and spit it out.” 

…Duchovny can be equally blunt in elaborating on his views regarding fame…. “Celebrity’s no fun,” he says flatly. 

“There’s really nothing nice about it. Celebrity is being known. It’s no fun to be known. I imagine it’s fun to be known for something good that you did, or for something noteworthy, but unfortunately the kind of celebrity television brings is monochromatic.”

…”I understand that it’s part of the territory,” he allows, “but sometimes it’s hard to be amused when you’re just trying to live your life and you don’t feel like people snickering or pointing. In this culture that we live in, everybody wants celebrity, everybody wants to be famous. If I’m going to be famous, I’d rather be famous ‘for’ something.” With a shrug of resignation, he adds, “I don’t think I have a choice at this point.” 

Duchovny’s comfort level with fame remains low. Asked the worst part about life under the microscope, he simply says, “It doesn’t leave you room to make mistakes, to do something stupid. Everything becomes kind of calculated in the worst way. You’ll have an impulse and you’ll go, ‘Can I do that? Is anybody watching me?’ It’s like being Catholic,” he quips. 

Not that Duchovny would trade in his ‘The X-Files’ experience. Far from it. “This is wonderful, and it affords me economic security” while hopefully creating the opportunity, he says, to do interesting feature-film work either after the series completes its run or during the hiatus period….

The travails of fame notwithstanding, things have certainly worked out, if not perfectly…. After all, how many people get to bring their dog to work with them? Duchovny’s pet, Blue, a well-behaved mutt with some border collie in her, is almost constantly at his side and less apt to complain than her master. “She gets excited to go in the car every morning-- much more excited than I do,” Duchovny says. “This is like her pack.” 

…Born August 7, Duchovny was so quiet growing up in Manhattan that his brother Danny, who is four years his senior, used to enjoy telling his friends David was “retarded….”

Duchovny admits to being shy as a youth, seldom dating during high school. His parents divorced when he was 11, and Duchovny has said in interviews those events may have contributed to both his drive to succeed academically and his personality, which at times can be construed as a bit standoffish…. 

In 1987, just short of gaining his Ph.D. at Yale in English (his dissertation topic was “Magic and Technology in Contemporary Poetry and Prose”), Duchovny began to truly pursue acting….

“It was never really a decision I made,” Duchovny says in hindsight. “I was doing both of them at once”-- teaching while working on his Ph.D. and acting-- “and I guess I just realized that I didn’t want to be a professor.” 

According to Duchovny, “Red Shoe Diaries” proved pivotal, allowing him to exhibit a different side of what he could do. In addition, he began to feel more comfortable as an actor, describing “The Rapture” as “a difficult experience” and “Twin Peaks” as an oddity. After appearing in low-budget films that put little pressure on him, “Red Shoe Diaries” also offered him his first leading role. “To see that I could do that was very important,” he suggests. 

In his customary manner, Duchovny would probably be the first to say the schedule associated with producing “The X-Files” is grueling and at times frustrating, but his faith in and commitment to the series’s quality pushes him along, much as he might like to grumble about the tongue-twisting dialogue and exhausting pace. As he puts it, in characteristically understated fashion, “It’s hard work to make a bad show, too.”

TRIVIA

[Duchovny meeting his girlfriend]: He was shopping for a suit (his first in many years), and asked Perrey Reeves, who had come in to shop for lingerie, which suit he should choose-- the gray one or the blue one? She told him to buy both. 

“Ice”: The Arctic-bound entry featuring a gruesome space-worm, which Duchovny has dubbed “the first really rocking episode.” David Duchovny’s own border collie, Blue, is the daughter of the dog featured in this episode. 

“The Jersey Devil”: The X-Files is filmed in Vancouver, so Mulder was not really in Atlantic City casinos. Instead, Duchovny was filmed in front of a blue-screen and stock casino footage was matted in later-- considerably cheaper than a location shoot in New Jersey would have cost. 

“Fire”: The famous “black silk boxer shorts” scene was originally a “Jockey underwear” scene….

“Genderbender”: During filming of the crime scene at the beginning of Act One, Mitch Kosterman (Det. Horton) flubbed his lines and said “chum chippy” instead of “some chippy.” For the rest of the shoot, David Duchovny joshed him about that line.  

“Miracle Man”: In an interview David Duchovny once said that he would consider Mulder Jewish until told otherwise.

“Darkness Falls”: Shooting in the forest near Vancouver, production was delayed frequently and made more difficult by heavy rains. “It was miserable,” Carter recalls, noting that the actors were soaking wet much of the time…. One saving grace was the casting of Jason Beghe…. A childhood friend of David Duchovny’s, Beghe had prodded him to pursue acting…. Having him on hand (at Duchovny’s suggestion) helped lighten the mood around the set, making the shoot something of a reunion and thus less of an ordeal for the cast. 

“One Breath”: The episode also lightly pokes fun at the show’s fans on the Internet, with one of the Lone Gunmen telling Mulder he should join them Friday in “hopping on the Internet to nitpick the scientific inaccuracies of Earth 2.” 

“Firewalker”: Gordon saw Trepkos’s obsession and the toll it exacted upon him in terms of losing someone he loved as a means of exploring the darker side of Mulder’s commitment to his search. “The natural endpoint of this quest for the truth is madness,” he notes, suggesting that Mulder’s decision to let Trepkos go at the end represents the bond in that respect between Mulder and Trepkos-- their shared ‘Heart of Darkness’. 

“Paper Clip”: …[Carter] also points to the mythic elements in Mulder being told that he has in a sense become his father-- one reason Duchovny has likened the narrative course of these three episodes to another trilogy, “Star Wars”, with a touch of “Sophie’s Choice”, perhaps, thrown in for good measure. 

BONUS

An excerpt from Brian Lowry’s second book “Trust No One: The Official Third Season Guide to The X-Files": 

Never one to settle for success, Duchovny-- who continues to play an active role in the series’s creative direction, working in concert with Carter and co-executive producer Howard Gordon on certain episodes-- is pleased with the third season but looks forward to expanding the show’s emotional range even further. Referring to one of the early second-season episodes, he notes, “I think when we did ‘Duane Barry’ the show became a really great show, and we maintained that level for a while, but we haven’t gone beyond it. I’m waiting to go beyond it. We won’t go beyond it technically, but we will go beyond it in terms of character, introducing a personal life of some kind. I think it’s inevitable. You have to do it.”

When it’s pointed out that the show’s most fervent loyalists, as well as Carter himself, have been especially vocal about not wanting to see Mulder and Scully romantically involved with anyone but each other, Duchovny simply shrugs and says the nuances he refers to don’t necessarily have to involved ‘romance’. “Give Mulder a friend. Give him a squash partner,” he suggests. “It’s got to happen. I really don’t care what anybody thinks we should or shouldn’t do.” Anderson remains more sanguine regarding such matters, though she indicates some interest as well in stretching the characters while understanding that such an evolution must occur within the show’s parameters. 

CONCLUSION

It's darkly comedic that Mr. Duchovny signed onto a (wildly successful) show thinking it would fail, only to be effectively held hostage for ten months out of twelve, 12- to 14-hours a day in a place that was completely opposite to the Cali weather he wished to sun bake in.

Also: props to him for contributing to the "domestication" of the show (more on that in future parts.) It's mind boggling just how much he contributed to The X-Files (and how much effort he put into later seasons together, despite his absence-- post here.)

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[a99jazzybean]

Why do we Keep Playing These Games?

Chapter 2: The Bet

Ch.1

synop: College TA au

Jayce Talis... He's your unrequited sworn enemy. You are the object of his obsessive affections. After discovering your disdain toward him, He decides to win your heart... Through playing games. Winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want. You'll take him up on the bet, but what will happen if he wins?

words: 2.6K

includes: jaycexfem!reader, sexual implications, sexual tension, enemies to lovers

A chessboard sat on the table in front of you. You stared at it with a puzzled look. In the chair across from you Jayce watched your reaction, a teasing gleam in his eyes. After a moment you looked up at him.

“Did you want to play chess?” You asked. 

Jayce had texted you to meet him at the office to discuss things before the first week of school. The two of you were in the small space provided for Heimerdinger’s TAs. A desk was pushed against one wall with a small lamp on top. In front of it sat a small table reserved to help students one-on-one. Along the walls were mostly empty bookshelves, with the occasional textbook placed in random spaces. 

You gave him a questioning look, waiting for him to answer. He stood up from the chair, stretching up and cracking his back. Then he walked up to you, a smug smile on his face. 

“Yes, I do. But I have conditions…”

“Conditions? For chess?” You were confused.

“Yes, conditions. Extra rules if you will…” The smile on his face grew as you continued to grow more confused.

“Talis, explain. I don’t like this vagueness.” You waved around your face to emphasize your annoyance with the “air of mystery.” 

“You know, patience is a virtue.”

“And one I do not have, spit it out.” Your eyes narrowed at him.

“You’re no fun.” He pouted. “But I’ll spill.”

Jayce had been plotting out ways to get closer to you, trying to work with all of his knowledge he had learned. He spent the weekend relaying his ideas to an exasperated Viktor. The man growing tired of hearing Jayce’s plans, hoping he would either give up or come to a final conclusion to end the incessant talking. 

Viktor had been shuffling a deck of cards to keep his hands busy while Jayce blathered on. The motion caught the taller man’s attention, making him pause. Then a lightbulb went off. 

“You said y/n has a thing about betting, right? I remember you had talked about teasing her about how she always was taking bets.”

Viktor looked up from his hands, an eyebrow quirked.

“Yes… but where is this going?” 

It was true, you were a sucker for taking bets. Many ended up with Mel holding your hair back as you chucked up some grotesque concoction into the toilet. But dammit, fifty dollars is fifty dollars. You had made somewhat a name for yourself taking bets, even if you were sure you couldn’t do it, you would at least try. Some odd part of you that you pretended you didn’t have. It desperately craved attention. And it somehow endeared you to your peers. So when someone was challenging you, you always took it up. Even one time risking arrest as you streaked on every floor of a dorm hall, but again, it was nice to have some extra change sitting around. 

“Well, maybe I can use that to my advantage. Considering she can’t seem to say ‘no’ to a bet.” 

“I don’t know Jayce…” Viktor gave the man a stern look. “I feel like taking advantage of that flaw might not work out the way you want it to.”

“What if I added my own stakes to it?” Jayce could feel the desperation in his voice. He needed something.

Viktor hummed thoughtfully, continuing to shuffle the cards. 

“I could see her taking it up if both of you added equal stakes” Viktor chuckled. “I’m sure she’d love to see you grovel.”

“What? I’m planning on winning here.” Jayce said with his cheery confidence. 

“Right. So what exactly would you be betting on?”

Jayce realized he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He glanced around the duo’s apartment. Eyes landing on their shelf stuffed with board games.

“What about games? She likes games, right?”

“Almost everyone likes games, Jayce.” Viktor sighed, but decided to aid his friend. “But she does have a proclivity for Uno. Oddly enough, really good at that one.” 

Jayce placed a hand on his chin as he thought.

“Then I’ll make bets over games.”

“What exactly will these bets entail?” Viktor was growing curious. His friend often had wild ideas, he wondered where this one was going.

“Oh, you’ll find out.” Jayce gave him a smirk.

Now you found yourself in your shared office space with Jayce. He explained how he wished to make bets with you over games. It was odd… but you had to admit you were interested. 

“What would the stakes be?” You weren’t going to do it if the payout wasn’t sufficient. 

“The loser has to do anything the winner wants them to.” Jayce said.

That had your eyes widening. The implications of what that could mean were loaded.

“With parameters, of course.” He gave you a smile.

“Those parameters being…?” 

“Whatever we collectively choose them to be.” 

You didn’t like that he hadn’t given you an example. What was he suggesting? He looked too smug. It would be easy to decline participation in this activity. Yet, you found yourself greatly intrigued. Surely accepting this little deal wouldn’t hurt. What’s the worst he could do? Besides, you could definitely beat him at these games.

“What would you wish for them to be?” You stepped closer to him. Watching his pupils dilate at the closer proximity. 

“Well, um… no public humiliation for one.”

“Okay.” You motioned for him to continue.

“Nothing to harm ourselves unwillingly.” 

“We could be harming ourselves willingly?” What could he mean by that phrasing?

“Yes. Like if you told me to get a dumb tattoo, I wouldn’t accept the bet. But if you bet me to eat like…I don’t know… a super spicy sandwich, then I would be willing to.” He deflected, he knew what he was trying to imply, but didn’t know how to reach that conclusion without turning you off of the idea.

“Right, okay. What else?” You were waiting for a certain answer, especially based on the implications of the original bet.

“Nothing to hurt our relationships with others, nothing that could hurt career prospects. We can opt out of betting, but that will put an official end to the games.” 

“You have this all planned out, don’t you?” It had you wondering what the catch would be. 

“So outside of the parameters we have, the winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want?” You were pushing him to admit what you both were thinking. 

The man had already revealed his affections for you. So what was he really wanting out of this?

Jayce felt hot. Should he admit what he truly wants from this? 

“Yeah, the winner gets to choose anything they wish.” He left it at that. Again, not wishing to push his luck. 

You pondered on it. Would allowing him to do what he wished really be so bad? You looked over the man. Even though you had your one-sided feud with him, you knew he was objectively attractive. That wasn’t something you could really argue against. Who knows, this arrangement might be beneficial for you. Lord knows you haven't really gotten around much, your studies taking up too much of your time. This could work in your favor. 

“Fine.” The man visibly lit up at your acceptance. You put up a finger. “But we’re making a contract. With witnesses to sign it.” Sure, it wouldn’t be legally binding, but at least the two of you would have some sort of accountability. 

“And we should have a contingency plan. If we don’t want to stop the games, but don’t want to do a bet, the loser pays up in cash. A decent amount to avoid too many cop-outs.” 

Jayce nodded, he would accept almost anything if you would agree to this. 

“I’ll be sure to have it in the paperwork.” 

“Good.” 

You looked over to the chessboard on the table.

“So will this be our first game?” You asked. 

“Yes. Every week we’ll switch up who gets to choose the next game.” Jayce was giddy.

“And these games, can they be any kind? Card, board, video games?”

“As long as they only require two players, yes.” 

“Alright Mr. Talis, bring me paperwork and your witness, and I’ll bring mine.”

“Of course, Miss l/n.” He gave you a bright smile, offering his hand.

With feigned confidence you grasped his with a hard grip. His hand dwarfed yours in comparison. Warm, soft, yet slightly calloused. You gave it a hearty shake. 

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

“That doesn’t seem like many parameters…” Mel said, emphasizing her point by swirling the wine in her glass harshly.

“Yeah… but it’s kinda exciting. I think.” You said sheepishly.

“You think?” The woman sighed. “Darling, you and I both know how he’s going to use his wins.” 

After speaking with Jayce you set up an emergency girls night with Mel. First of all, you needed her as a witness, and second, you needed to tell someone about this immediately. Now the two of you were lounging on her couch, already having downed a bottle of rosé. 

“You’re making it sound like he’s going to win something.” You looked at her offended.

She raised a brow at you.

“Don’t underestimate Jayce. When he sets his sights on something he will continue his pursuit of whatever it is.” 

“Whatever. I know I can beat him. That man won’t be getting anything from me.” 

“Darling.” She placed her glass down and reached for your hands. “I’m going to hold your hand when I say this; “Jayce Talis will not back down. Especially not when you’ve basically offered yourself up on a silver platter for him.”

“You’re just over exaggerating.” Your confidence was waning. Mel knew what she was talking about, you just didn’t want to believe her. 

“Look, I’m just trying to warn you. He’s VERY persistent. And I’m sure you know now, has had his eyes set on you for quite some time. He will not be letting this opportunity go to waste.”

You bit your lip nervously. No, you couldn’t concede. There was no way you were going to let the golden boy win. He might have drive, but so do you. 

“I’m accepting being your witness for this odd contract because I’m your friend.” She grabbed her glass to take a deep drink. “But don’t think for a second I’m helping you get out of any of the bets you two place.” 

“It won’t be that bad. Even if he wins, I’ll take everything like a champ.” You took a drink from your own glass of wine.

“Even if it’s a sexual favor?” Mel said pointedly.

You choked on your wine, punching at your chest to catch your breath. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…” You lied.

“From what you told me none of your exceptions included that, meaning that Jayce very well could ask you to do anything of that nature for him.”

“And I’ll take it like a champ.” You said nervously, visibly cringing. “I’m no pussy.”

“Right.” She gave you a knowing look, a smirk dancing on her lips.

“What’s that look for?”

“Oh nothing.” She chuckled. “I’m sure that your lack of adding that to parameters was merely an oversight. We can easily add it before you sign that contract tomorrow.” 

“Well, we don’t necessarily have to do that…” You tried to play cool. 

Fine, the thought of you and Jayce doing anything sexual in nature didn’t turn you off per say…

“And why not, surely you wouldn’t want Jayce Talis, your sworn enemy to take advantage of you like that.” She teased. 

“I can make those same requests too, you know?” You jabbed back. Red bloomed on your face as you realized what you said. 

Mel laughed at your embarrassed state. 

“You’re too easy to read. Though I can’t say I blame you, Jayce is very nice to look at. Even if you have one-sided bad blood with the man.”

You grumbled. No, you would not admit it out loud. How maybe the thought of Jayce having his way with you was kind of hot. 

Sure, you didn’t like the man personally. That didn’t mean you hadn’t had certain types of thoughts about him. Thoughts that kept you up at night with your hand between your thighs and shame painting your cheeks red. God, you wished you didn’t have dumb base human instincts to copulate. 

“Whatever Mel. It doesn’t even matter if he can take advantage, because he’s not going to win.”

“Again I say; “do not underestimate Jayce Talis.” 

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

The next day had arrived. You stood in the small office with Jayce, Viktor, and Mel. Jayce was buzzing with excitement as he laid out a printed contract on the table before you. Viktor and Mel both rolled their eyes at the dramatics. While this was a bit much, they did find it quite amusing. How you were tiptoeing around your attraction to the man, and he was fully ready to take advantage of the situation you agreed to. You argued that it was all for the bet. For the glory of the win, and nothing else. Still, something primal stirred inside you. Something you did your best to swallow down as you read through the contract. 

Your eyes trailed down the rules and regulations the two of you had placed, then stopped and widened. There, towards the end of the page it was explicitly laid out.

. Sexual favors are allowed with EXPLICIT consent between participants. Consent is the agreement to an activity with a spoken “yes.” Consent must be given before the start of all activities. Consent may be revoked at any time. When this occurs the bet can either be:

Rescinded entirely by the winner

Changed by the winner to a more acceptable activity

Require a monetary exchange to pass over the bet

Jayce could tell you had reached that part of the contract. He nervously shuffled as he watched you reread the part multiple times. Spotting a blush on your face as you continued to read the rest of the contract. He breathed out a sigh of relief when you placed the pages down with a nod. 

“It’s acceptable to me.” You said, avoiding Jayce’s gaze.

A bright, gap-toothed smile appeared on his face. He clapped and reached for the pages. 

“Wonderful. Now we sign.” He said, pulling out a pen from his pocket. 

He leaned over the table and signed his name above the line listing him as “Player One”. Then he slid the sheet over to you. Warm fingers brushed against your own as you reached for the pen from him. The connection sending a shiver up your spine. 

With a huff you quickly signed the page.

“Alright, witnesses, your turn.” Jayce passed the page to Viktor. 

Concern was laced in his golden eyes as he looked at you. He wondered if you knew what you were getting yourself into. Quickly, he signed his name on the designated line before passing it to Mel who did the same. 

Jayce grabbed the pages.

“I’ll make photocopies of this for your files, then we can let the games begin!” The smile had yet to leave his face. 

You gulped nervously.

“Right. So chess is first, correct?” 

“Yup.” 

“And what are we betting on?” You asked, voice wavering slightly.

“I’m not telling.” He said. 

“What! That’s not fair!” You exclaimed desperately. 

Jayce tsked you. A teasing glint in his eyes. He opened the second page of the contract and pointed.

“If you remember correctly, in section 5 part a, bets do not have to be announced before the game is played.” He said smugly.

You grumbled, of course you skimmed over that. 

“Fine.” 

Jayce offered his hand to you. You grasped it harshly and shook. 

“I can’t wait to play with you.” He said with a wink.

[11queensupreme11]

So I have a question? You know that song lyric “Would you still love me if I’m no longer young and beautiful?” By Lana Del Rey. Okay so I’m gonna give you a scenario I’ve been thinking about adding to my story (as a draft for the next interlude after I finish the next reaction chapter)

So it goes a little like this:

Let say Percy who was a goddess (like in the last ask) got cheated on by Cu and, in her despair, killed herself.

(This is just a draft but I do plan on starting the chapter with her suicide note to her children first. Then to each of the yans individually. And maybe a couple to the friends and family she made on the way. So like a note to Shiva and his wives, Adamas, maybe Hercules and Prometheus, and…Ra(surprise! 🤭) honestly, I plan on making his a mixture of kinda funny/sarcastic, but also nostalgic and sad.)

Everyone finds out of course. And Zeus, devestated by the loss of his favorite neice, incensed by the disrespect shown to the Greek Pantheon by the Celtic Pantheon, spurred on by his son, brothers, and pantheon’s devestation and righteous anger at Percy’s death, along with the Egyptian, Norse, Abrahamic,Hindu, etc. Pantheons’ anger with what Cu did, obviously, declare war. The heavens are split and in utter chaos as the two sides form and each side is gathering allies for the upcoming war (it’ll be known as the “The Divine Schism” later on.

So, as u can imagine, this results in a lot of death, a lot of emotions flying around, and it isn’t even just the gods fighting other gods. Or Percy’s children fighting her other children(wish she begged them in her letter not to do, but she’s gone now; and her children are just as unhinged as their dads) . It also causes the humans to fight too because she was friends with a lot of them and a lot of them blame the Celtic people for 1)encouraging the views that made Cu think it was okay to do that (which is hypocritical because they still believe or once believed and would have done the same thing just due to the time period they were raised/born into, but a lot of them liked Percy so she was the exception) and 2) for not trying harder to keep him under control back when he was still a human on Midgard (Papa Adam is REALLY disappointed).

ANYWAY!

At this point, the war has gotten bad enough that the Fates, the Morrigan, the Norns, and all the other gods and goddesses related to fate and destiny realize that sooner or later the gods are going to end up fighting each other into extinction (with the humans in Vallhalla doing the same) and so they do some research (through their powers which were given to them by “the-Powers-that-Be” (which I actually mentioned in a chapter already but basically that’s the power that created them, their universe, and all the other universes that exist or will ever exist) and find out that, while Percy did die when she killed herself, for whatever reason, she didn’t end up going to Niflheim and instead got reincarnated into a different universe and nope🤭🤭it’s NOT the PJO universe. Which universe it is, I’m going to keep that a secret for now but I wouldn’t mind doing a poll to see which universe everyone would WANT her to be in. It might even help me decide. (just know it’s gonna be an anime universe. So either One Piece, Bleach, Naruto, or something else. It’ll have to be one I’ve read or watched before tho.) but it’s a secret, even to me, until I actually sit down and write this chapter.

Anyway, they find her reincarnated soul (in this I think I’m going to make it so that she only remembers SOME of her past life as a goddess and a demigod and it comes to her in her dreams) and, in order to stop the godly war that threatens the very foundations of their universe, they sit the Pantheons down (what’s left of them anyway) and tell them about what happened and where she is now. This, of course revitalizes the yans (ESPECIALLY CU!!!) because they see it as a second chance to get her back and make SURE she NEVER leaves them EVER again. (I’m talking they might actually lock her in a palace where they watch her every move 24/7 for the rest of eternity)

So they come up with a plan to basically kidnap her from this other plane. In this other universe tho, she’s lived a full, happy life. Sure it had some challenges (if she’s in One Piece I’m gonna make it so that she was Ace’s sister so she def fought in Marineford (love interest: Shanks), if in Bleach I’m making her the Captain of one of the divisions (Love interest:Sosuke Aizen 🤭🤭), if in Naruto ( I honestly can’t see her as an assassin/killer which is literally all ninjas are trained to do when u get to the crux of it so maybe like a political figure of peace? A daiymo maybe? Idk I’d have to figure it out (love interest: Kakashi Hatake, Itachi Uchiha, or Madara Uchiha depending on what time period I want her to be reincarnated into)

I plan on having her influence a lot of stuff, fall in love, have children with said Love Interest, and be an old lady by the time they start looking for her ( might have to write this in three parts since I do want to dedicate a chapter to her life in that other universe).

I’m still trying to figure out all the logistics since I want it to be believable and not just super random and unorganized because there are a lot of moving parts.

But my question to u is what do u think the yans will think (at this point in time) or do about an old, grandma version of Percy? Will it matter to them? She won’t be the same Percy at this point. She might remember some things about them but for the most part she won’t remember them and tho she might have the same morals as the last Percy, because of the stuff she went through in this new universe, she isn’t just physically different (old) but mentally too.

EVERYTHING HERE IS PERFECT BUT I JUST HAVE ONE CORRECTION:

"while Percy did die when she killed herself, for whatever reason, she didn’t end up going to Niflheim and instead got reincarnated"

it's niflhel!!! niflhel (or oblivion, nonexistence, whatever) is where all gods and mortal souls (after dying in the afterlife) go to when they die!

anyway.................

AIZEN SOSUKE????????? AND KAKASHI????????????

dude i genuinely don't know who to vote for, kakashi has been my anime crush SINCE I WAS A LITTLE GIRL, and aizen's so fucking daddy too omg why would you make us pick between them that's so cruel 😭😭😭😭😭😭

as for your question, age wouldn't matter much to them cuz they can just forcefully revert her back to her prime or back to whatever age/appearance they last saw her as!

the issue is the mentality 😞 if she's too different (like if she's not the same sweet, cheery, uwu, and infuriatingly annoying and troublesome girl that they know, then they might actually feel defeated. it's percy.... but at the same time it's not THEIR percy

tbh they'd probably try to find a way to revert her back to the percy they know, but if that doesn't work or they can't do it, then it's back to despair and anger 💀