#id pass out the moment i yawn

[ashiemochi]

I don't know but i think leon is rubbing on me.

I just landed from a 6 hour flight and during the flight my mom asked me "why don't you take a nap?" And then i remembered RE 6 so then i said "i'm fine like this mom." And gave her a tiny smile.

because zombies truly exist.

[almondamaretto]

sunday

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: a rainy sunday afternoon is perfect for two things: getting high, and making out with hot people.

warnings: weed, kissing

a/n: i lowk hate this but idc!

not proof read.

✄┈┈┈┈

she stirred as the familiar vibration of a phone call interrupted her deep slumber, slinging her arm around in search of the agitating device. without lifting her head, her fingertips fell upon the cool, glossy screen of her phone. 

she opened her eyes just to squint them closed at the bright phone screen, the caller id reading off "matty b." 

pressing the bright green button, she pulled the phone up to her ear and slung her arm over her eyes, blocking any light from seeping in. 

"hey matt." she answered in a groggy voice that nearly resembled that of a whine. he always loved the way she sounded in the morning. or all the time really. 

she could hear the distant sounds of wheels driving on wet pavement and cars passing. that along with the poor bluetooth connection through is car told her he was driving. 

"hey doll, i'm on my way to your house right now, that ok? nick and chris are being annoying." 

slightly more awake now, she could hear the sleepiness in his voice, as if he too had just woken up. she pulled the phone from her ear to check the time. 12:32pm 

"say, it’s a bit early for you, isn't it?" she asked in a teasing manner, suppressing a yawn. she could now hear the faint sound of rain against her window. 

matt snorted in amusement, "yeah, the two idiots woke me up screaming at each other." 

"that's alright, I'll go unlock my door. see ya soon?" 

"i'm 5 minutes away." 

"be safe, bye matt." 

"bye, doll." 

doll. 

matt had used the nickname throughout their entire relationship. 

still, it never failed to bring heat to her face, her neck--all over. 

she remained in bed for a few moments, letting herself fully wake up before tossing her heavy comforter off. 

she shivered at the chilly air suddenly caressing her exposed skin, standing up and stretching her arms high into the air, inhaling deeply. 

she slipped a pair of socks on as a barrier between her feet and the cold floor, slipping out of her cozy room into the main section of her apartment. 

the cool, metallic texture of her lock was a stark contrast to her warm hands as she turned it, peeking out from behind her curtain to see what was happening outside. 

she waltzed over to her turntable, flicking it on and letting the record already on the platter play.  

as she walked over to her kitchen, the familiar crackling sounded throughout the apartment, followed by the reggae notes of bob marley's "three little birds." 

the sound of lucky charms cereal clinking against a ceramic bowl masked the noise of her door opening and shutting. so, when a slightly damp matt saw her swaying slightly to the music, he couldn't help himself. 

he snuck up behind her, wrapped his hands around her front, just under her loose baby tee, and lifted her up. "boo!" 

she yelled out in fear, until she recognized the voice of the man he startled her. "matthew!" she scolded in an angry tone. 

matt sat her back down gently, and dropped his head in fake guilt, failing to mask his sly smirk. "sorry, i couldn't pass up an opportunity like that." 

"first of all, fuck you. second of all, 'boo' is crazy." she responded through her laugh and turned to finish her much-needed bowl of sugary cereal. 

matt reached up beside her for a bowl--one from a different set--as a way to ask her for cereal. she filled both up with cereal and milk without a word. 

"i'm too cold for this shit." she mumbled under her breath and padded back into her welcoming bedroom. 

the sky outside was dark, so she turned on her array of string lights and lit a cinnamon scented candle, joining matt who had already climbed into her warm, plush bed. 

"i fucking love this bed." matt groaned out int pleasure, sprawling his limbs out as much as he could without risking spilling milk. 

she took a spoonful of cereal into her mouth and grabbed her tv remote, powering it on. "what do you wanna watch?" 

"gravity falls." he spoke from behind a mouth full of food. 

then, the two just sat in comfortable silence. bob marley playing lowly in the background, the television turned up just loud enough to hear it, wrapped in the comfort of her sheets. 

cereal bowls placed on her nightstand with care, the two cuddled into each other, legs tangled as she hugged his torso, head laying on his chest. 

they both recognized the palpable tension that followed them everywhere. they both knew there was something there. something unspoken. 

but that it what it remained--unspoken. neither took any action, too afraid of the outcome. 

matt glanced down at her, watching her eyelashes bat as she blinked, focused intently on the screen. however, as if she could tell, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. 

panicking, he looked back at the tv screen, urging himself to breathe normally. 

she stood up, a faint smirk painted on her beautiful face. "i have a great idea!" she said proudly, spinning to unlock one of her many windows to open it slightly. 

matt watched her intently as she bent over to look in the drawers of her nightstand, pulling out the essentials for a joint. "there's a reason we get along so well." he responded happily. 

she took mock offense. "what, its not my winning personality?"

"i guess that too."

"i'm gonna go flip the record, will you please roll it?" she asked with big pleading eyes, grinning widely when he nodded his head. 

upon her return, she saw him focused intently on creating the perfectly rolled joint. chewing on her lower lip, she watched as he rolled it tightly between his fingers, stinging his tongue out of his mouth to seal it shut. 

once finished, he held up the small object with a proud smile on his face. she giddily climbed back into the bed, placing the filter end between her lips, and lighting the end. 

she inhaled deeply, ignoring the burning in her throat, and passed it over to matt. 

exhaling, she once again snuggled into his side, craving his warmth. 

they passed the drug back and forth, enjoying the intoxicating feeling swarming their brains. her eyes had dropped down and turned red, and her need to be close to matt grew even stronger. 

at this point she had tuned gravity falls out, instead taking interest in the way the smoke lifted and swirled throughout her room, taking on the color of the few and far between sun rays that filtered through the rainclouds.

the sound of the rain falling against her balcony outside was comforting, nearly as much as matt pressed up against her, his heart beating steadily against her head.

passing it back once more to matt, she looked deeply into his eyes, refusing to look away, other than a quick few glances at his pink lips. she took her own in between her teeth. 

matt took a large hit, thankful for the drug's confidence boost, and brought his free hand up to her face. 

warily, he inched closer to her, pulling her closer with his hand. 

their lips were inches apart when he used his thumb to part them gently, tilting his head and blowing the vapor into her willing lungs. 

her hand snaked up to the back of his neck where she gripped the short hairs, and she exhaled the smoke. 

they paused for a moment, and in a quick decision she grabbed the thoroughly smoked roach, turned to snuff it out in her bedside ash tray, and turned back around to smash her lips against matt's. 

she was filled with the warmth she so desperately craved and needed. she straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, shuttering as he traced up and down her sides and back with his. 

the music playing from the other room was forgotten about along with the cartoon show on the tv. all of their thoughts were consumed by each other. 

slipping his tongue into her mouth, he tilted his head and brought a slender hand up to push her even closer to him, if it was possible. 

they fought over dominance of the kiss, exploring each other's mouths with need, short, breathless whines falling from their throats. 

without hesitation, matt flipped them over completely, so he was laying his weight on top of her.  

Small hands caressed his face and gently tugged on his hair, wet noises making both faces heat up in embarrassment. 

finally, they pulled away to catch their breath, chests heaving and pressing against one another with each intake of breath. both were left speechless, gazing into each other's eyes with starstruck looks of awe and affection. 

it wasn't long before matt leaned back in, this time acting with double the desire, twice the passion as before. 

they made out for what seemed like hours--it probably was--rolling around in her warm bed, impossibly tangling themselves in her cream-colored bedsheets. 

the only breaks they took were to breathe and for short, affectionate conversations which always led back to them shoving their tongues down each other's throats. 

they pulled apart again, still breathing heavily. 

"matt, y'know... i've-i've never liked someone the way i like you.” 

he smiled against her lips, placing a few more longing kisses on them. 

tucking hair behind her ear and holding both sides of her face, he stared intensely into her eyes. 

“i am in love with you, doll.” he confessed truthfully. 

she beamed with joy, her sheepish reaction telling him she felt exactly the same way. 

“even when you have really messy hair and a little bit of dribble on your chin.” he teased and wiped her pointy chin with his slender thumb.

she rolled her droopy eyes and shook her head, her giddy smile never leaving her red, swollen lips “just shut up and kiss me, idiot.” 

[phykios]

If I Were A Blackbird, part 14 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

The morning of her birthday, it wasn’t her alarm that woke her up, but her ringtone. Clumsily, she grasped for her phone, not even bothering with checking the caller ID, or rolling over so her face wasn’t smashed into the pillow, and mumbled a sleepy, “H’lo?” into the receiver. 

Annabeth had two phones, a personal one and a professional one. The professional was mostly for show, as Helen commandeered most of her correspondence, and the personal was mostly for texting. Only a handful of people ever actually called her personal phone, and only one person did so with any regularity. 

Sure enough, she could hear the smile in the voice of her favorite person in the world as he said, “God morgon, wise girl.” 

“Mmm.” He’d been practicing his Swedish. Hot.

“Grattis på födelsedagen.” 

“Hm.” 

“Sleep okay?” 

“Fine,” she yawned. “Would’ve been better if you were here.” 

“If I could, I would.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” With another yawn and a spine-cracking stretch, she shifted onto her side. “I’m issuing a royal decree that we’re not allowed to spend another birthday apart.” 

“Yours or mine?”

“Both.”

“Yeah, because that’ll pass the Riksdag.” 

“It will if I ask nicely.” She rubbed her eyes. “Video?” 

“Probably not,” he said, disappointment palpable. “Lots of people here today. And I’m showing Estelle around in a bit.” 

It was one of their little rituals they had developed over the years, a quick check-in before switching to a video call. More for her security than his, he had started asking if she were alone so he could see her, and as his star continued to rise and his calendar continued to fill up with meets and trainings, she had started to do the same. It wouldn’t do, he had said, for some rando to see a princess half-asleep when he called to wake her up from halfway around the world. She understood the subtext–they got so little privacy as it is. She wouldn’t want anyone muscling in on these few moments of true intimacy they had. 

Didn’t mean she couldn’t be sad about it, though. 

They had been together for about four years. Four years, more or less living together in New York, and yet they often couldn’t see each other for more than a couple of weeks together at a time. Those couple of weeks were always something close to perfect, though. The sweet, domestic days with Percy. He’d make her breakfast and lunch (but they would order out for dinner), they’d work out together, and he’d compliment her ability to keep up with an Olympic athlete while she stopped herself from making jokes about being a different sort of Olympian athlete. They’d watch Chopped or Xena Warrior Princess together. Have the kind of lazy afternoon sex on the couch she’d heard promises of but never dreamed could be so perfect. And they’d talk about life, and about each other. About what mattered and their hopes for the future. 

A future that was probably going to be a little more stable soon. Once he won gold and retired. 

Once she came clean, and they got married. 

Then, no more mornings in opposite time zones. 

Though it was not so opposite right now, at least. She’d gone back to Sweden after her little trip to Rome, and he was in Athens. The trip was just too long to New York to justify it, especially when she was going to turn back right away. 

“I wish you were here.”

“I wish you were here,” he hit back. “How are the temporary digs?”

She was not staying in her usual apartment, because said apartment was being renovated. For things she might need soon. Like a bigger kitchen, and more bedrooms. That kind of thing. 

She’d pored over it for about a year leading up to this. There was a built-in space for an aquarium in the living room. The perfect place for domestic life. One that would last more than a fortnight at a time. 

And maybe a place to grow a family too.

Thought that at least, hadn’t been so directly talked about, other than it being something that had to happen, if she wanted to effectively cut Mary out of the bloodline by way of Percy’s princes and princesses. Which she did. 

“Fine,” Annabeth said, “I’m only here for three days, anyway.” Her schedule was so tight, she only had enough time for a short stay in Stockholm between Rome and Athens. She’d been frontloading as many appearances and projects as she could, because after the Olympics, she and Percy had a big, celebratory vacation planned. A vacation she thought–hoped, anyway–might involve a ring, and an announcement. 

And then the apartment in Sweden should be done. Though they would keep the New York apartment indefinitely. 

“I can’t wait to explore Athens with you.” 

“Me too,” Annabeth said. “The great seat of Pallas Athena.” Where she would tell him the truth. 

“Hopefully she’ll be helpful to me in my races,” Percy said. “We’re going exploring today.”

“All the cousins?”

“Of course. Estelle is very excited.”

Annabeth could picture it. Last summer, the Jackson-Blofis family had come to visit her in Sweden, and Annabeth had happily utilized her position to take them on the ultimate VIP tour. She had been happy to do all the normal touristy things, but she had been over the moon at some of the more off the beaten path places Annabeth had taken them to, like the Disgusting Food Museum. That one had really tickled her ten-year-old sensibilities. She had a wonderful picture, too, of Estelle and her older brother, lounging on the rocky coast of Öland, sharing a broad, cheeky smile.

She wanted more. A whole album of Estelle and her brother, just for Annabeth. “Send me a picture.” 

“Any requests?”

“Depends on what you’re doing.” 

“All the usual touristy stuff.” 

She frowned, thinking. Not that he could see it. “Something Athena-y.”

“I’m literally in Athens.” 

“Then it should be easy for you.” Annabeth said, “And make sure to get me something with you and Estelle.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Percy said, “What’s the plan for your birthday?”

“Brunch with my dad and Magnus and Alex, and a few of their friends,” she said, “and then a flight to Greece.”

“I like that bit,” Percy said, his grin audible. “Are we still on for dinner tomorrow to celebrate?”

“Eight PM, full table and dinner service at the King George. Helen’s reserved the whole rooftop for us.”

“And I can give you your birthday present.”

“You’d better.” Though truthfully, she didn’t care. She just wanted to see him. She wanted to see him so badly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“How are you?” 

He sighed, crackling over the phone. “I’m tired.” 

Annabeth sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. “What’s wrong?” 

She could picture him, clear as day: his head tipped forward, his fingers massaging his temples, the furrow in his brow she always thought was cute even deeper and more pronounced. “Nothing, it’s just…” He sighed again. “It’s hot, and training is a lot, and my roommate is kind of a dick, and my–I just really feel the pressure this time around.” 

“From your coach?” she asked, kindly. 

“...Yeah. Him, too.” 

She frowned. “Who–”

“Is that Annabeth?” interrupted a voice over the phone, one she recognized just as well. “Can I talk to her? Hi Annabeth!”

“Estelle says ‘hi.’” Percy added.

“I say hi back,” Annabeth replied. 

“Hi Annabeth! Percy misses you a lot!” 

“Come on, squirt, don’t rat me out like that.”

Annabeth laughed, helpless to stop the broad grin which stretched across her face. “Sounds like you’re headed out.”

“Yeah,” he said, but he sounded sad about it. “I love you.” 

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised. “I love you, too.”

Her birthday proceeded from there as she was promptly swarmed by her hair and makeup people. She had managed to negotiate her team down from a full on fancy dinner to a light, cheerful, birthday brunch instead, in lieu of skipping the whole thing entirely. It was a compromise that paid off–a lighter budget played well in the headlines, and a smaller guest list meant that Annabeth could spend the day with people she actually liked. It still necessitated a nice dress and a proper hairstyle, but instead of inviting endless, vaguely disapproving ministers, it was strictly friends and family only: her brothers, Magnus and Alex, a handful of their friends and partners. The atmosphere was downright pleasant, and laughter filled the drawing room along with the gentle clink of mimosa glasses.

Annabeth was enjoying herself. Honestly. But still, she caught herself checking the time every twenty minutes or so. Hopefully unobtrusively, but as the brunch wore on, she began to care less and less how obvious she might have been. Seven hours to her flight. Six hours, forty minutes to her flight. Six hours, twenty minutes. 

At the five hour mark, her father tapped her on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go ahead and head out for your flight? I can take care of things for you here.” 

She blinked, taking a second for her focus to snap into place. Then she processed what he said. “You’re… letting me leave?”

“Of course!”

“Are you sure?” 

“Oh, absolutely. You’ll want to leave soon if you have any hope of beating the traffic.” He winked at her. 

After all these years, she thought she would have gotten used to her father quietly going to bat for her, giving her outs to let her do what she wanted. But it still made her dangerously close to tearing up, every single time. She threw her arms around him, squeezing tight, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

And stayed for another half hour, for good measure. 

Though maybe she should have slipped out, because as soon as she stood up from the couch, smoothing her skirt, and made for the door, somebody–Magnus, likely–wolf-whistled behind her. And as much as she would love to have made a rude gesture in response, she restrained herself to a simple eye roll and a mental note to text Alex so they could come up with a plan for revenge later. 

She had packed the night before, full of enthusiasm and a rare bout of productivity, so after an entirely traffic-free drive to the airport, she was making herself comfortable in the first-class lounge, day-dreaming about the next time she and Percy would go on an unchaperoned cruise (soon, with any luck) when her thoughts began to wander. Which was a shame. She vastly preferred to think about Percy. But if she thought about Percy, then she couldn’t help but think of other things.

If she had to describe Percy, there were a million words she could use–kind, talented, strong, and yes, handsome–but one that deserved to be near the top of her list was brave. Because he was brave. He had entered her world of careful, agonizing scrutiny without so much as a second thought, and he had conducted himself just about perfectly. As much as she tried not to, Annabeth hadn’t been able to help herself from following the headlines over the course of their relationship. 

There had always been the fear that he wouldn’t be accepted by her country. And as much as Annabeth wanted to pretend that the only opinion she valued was her own, it just wasn’t true. Having her father support her relationship had been a huge relief, and watching as Percy slowly won over the rest of the country had felt like surfacing for air after having nearly drowned. Because of course he would win them over. He was kind, talented, strong, handsome, brave, and a million other things, too. 

But there was still one aspect of her life he had yet to face. 

And she would be lying if she said she wasn’t terrified of it. 

The thought gnawed at her through boarding, taxi, and takeoff, leaving her feeling strangely unsettled. She felt jittery, erratic, bursts of unspent energy zipping up and down her limbs. She ended up going to the bathroom multiple times, just to stretch her legs, and work off whatever it was that was bothering her. 

Sadly, though, the energy remained. 

And, when she came back from the bathroom the third time, someone was in her seat. 

This was strange for multiple reasons, the first being that this was the first-class cabin, they were mid-flight on the way to Greece, and the only other people in the cabin were Hans and Helen. Second, and this wasn’t something Annabeth liked to throw around without purpose, but she was, in fact, a princess. Princesses didn’t have to worry about strangers sitting in their seats, no matter where they were–plane, train, gala, game. 

Third, and strangest of all, the person sitting in her seat wasn’t a stranger. It was her mother. 

“Annabeth,” said the goddess, with a slight incline of her head. 

She swallowed, throat dry. “Mother.” 

“I trust you are well?” 

“Yes.” 

“Please.” She motioned to the seat next to her, with the kind of perfect poise that Annabeth still struggled to maintain, even after a decade of etiquette lessons. “Join me.” 

Gingerly, Annabeth sat. 

After a moment, Athena raised her eyebrow. “You seem unsettled, daughter. Are you frightened?” 

Yes. “No, mother, just… It’s a surprise to see you, is all.” 

She hummed. “Yes, I suppose it has been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Fifteen years, six months, and twenty-four days, but who was counting? “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” 

Athena crossed one leg over the other, the graceful motion perfectly preserving the crease of her designer pants suit. “I am here,” she said, “to check on your progress.” 

“My… progress.” 

“Yes.” She took a sip of a glass of… something… that had appeared in her hand. 

Her brain stuttered, mind flipping through her current projects. Would Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war, really want to hear about her preliminary designs for creating larger, quicker, and more energy-efficient elevators? Or her plans for creating a new sculpture garden in Rosendal? 

“How goes your search?” 

“My–” Oh, duh. In her mind’s eye, she saw Percy, grinning cheekily at her. Thought you were supposed to be a wise girl? “My search, right. Well…” 

Athena eyed her, her bright gaze unfathomable. 

Annabeth shifted in her seat. There wasn’t much to report. She’d spent as much time in Rome as she could manage to carve out, but had very little to show for it. Her princess schedule seemed to get more and more stuffed by the day. “Well, I’ve–I think I’ve narrowed it down to the eastern bank of the Tiber.”

She nodded, thoughtful. “Yes. That is consistent with the findings of your half-siblings. Is there nothing else?” 

Trying not to bristle, Annabeth rolled the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. “Unfortunately, mother, I haven’t been able to devote much more time than I already have–”

Athena waved her off, a small, elegant motion that had all the force of a shield slamming into her. “I understand. I know that there are other things which require your attention.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m doing the best I can, mother.” 

“I know.” Annabeth risked a glance up. Her mother’s eyes betrayed nothing–no hint of sympathy for her child’s plight. She wondered idly how many more children before her had gone on this same wild goose chase. How far they had gotten. Whether or not their mother had been proud of them. 

Then Annabeth perked up as she remembered. She did have something new to report. “Actually, there is a new lead.” 

“Oh?” 

She nodded. “I met the gods of the city: Rhea Silvia and Tiberinus.” 

That got her attention. Athena’s gaze sharpened, her head tilted ever so slightly. “Really.” 

“They said that I was close, and that I needed, um, some kind of document? And someone to be my champion.” She looked sideways at her mother. “Do you know what they meant?” 

Athena frowned, her fine features not losing an ounce of their beauty. “Possibly,” she offered, after a moment. “What else did they say? About the champion?” 

“Rhea said something about a ‘friend with the sea-blood.’ I don’t know–I mean, I thought maybe they were talking about Hans, because of his ancestry, but I’m not sure…” 

“No,” she murmured. “I doubt the gods were referring to your guard.” 

Well, great. Back to square one. 

“Tell me,” said Athena, “about your companion. The sailor.” 

Annabeth blinked. “You know about Percy?” 

“Of course. You are my daughter, after all. I have taken a great interest in you.” 

Something hot bubbled in her core. Annabeth couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But, if she knew about Percy… Well, lying about him probably wasn’t a good move. “He’s–he’s really great. He’s actually very smart. You know, there’s a lot more statistics in sailing than most people realize–” 

“Do you trust him?” 

That brought her up short. “Yes. Of course I trust him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?” 

Athena shifted, and if Annabeth didn’t know better, she would say her mother was… uncomfortable. “You know, he recently made a sacrifice to me.” 

Maybe the altitude was messing with her ears, because, what? Percy did what? “A sacrifice?” 

“Yes. Solely for victory in his upcoming race. Very traditional.” 

Hopefully she was referring to the tradition, and not the sacrifice itself. 

But also–Percy made a sacrifice to a goddess? Since when was he into paganism and ritual sacrifice? Annabeth felt like she would have noticed that, even with the limited time they spent together!

Her mother’s voice pulled her attention back. “Be careful with that one, daughter.”

Annabeth frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I sense that he will have a choice to make, and soon. He could be a great asset to your quest–or he could spell the end of the search, and any hope of recovering the prize will be lost to eternity.” 

What did that mean? “Mother–”

“Be well, Annabeth. And,” she leaned in, gently pushing a stray curl out of Annabeth’s face. “Happy birthday. I do so hope you shall have great joy in the coming weeks.” 

“Wait–”

The intercom crackled, the pilot’s voice coming in in spurts. “Ladies and gentlemen,” came the voice, “this is your captain speaking. We have just started our descent and we expect to land in Athens in just about twenty minutes. The weather in Athens is sunny, as you might expect, with a temperature of thirty degrees celsius…”

“Excuse me.”

Annabeth whipped around, staring at the flight attendant, who gave her a bright, winning smile. 

“Our sincerest apologies, your highness, but we will be landing shortly, and we must ask you to return your chair to its upright position.” 

“What? Oh.” Quickly, fumbling for the little button, she brought her seat back up, face heating. “Thank you.”

But when Annabeth turned back around, her mother had vanished. 

***

“Percy? Hey, Earth to Percy?” 

He blinked. “What?”

Luke was waving his hand in front of Percy’s face. “Anybody home?” 

Percy swatted it away. 

“There he is,” he laughed. “You good?”

“You don’t hear that?” 

“Hear what?” 

It sounded again. “That.” 

He looked around, bemused, at the massive crush of people swarming the street. “Kind of hard to hear anything, kiddo.” 

Luke had a point. They were smack dab in the middle of Athens, at the bottom of the Acropolis, in the height of tourist season. The street was fairly teeming with people, thousands of voices filling the air in dozens of languages, playing merry hell with his ADHD. 

Or at least it would be, if it weren’t for that weird sound. 

“Sorry, I just… sorry,” Percy managed.

Luke paused, his mirth slipping off his face. “You okay?” 

Percy gave him a look. “What kind of question is that?” 

“A pertinent one.” 

“Well, I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” Luke was frowning in that ‘concerned big brother’ way that Percy used to crave when he was a kid, because at least that look meant that the older boy considered him family, rather than an annoying hanger-on. Now, Percy kind of wanted to hit it off his face. “Because you seem a little… unsettled.” 

The noise sounded again, rattling inside of his ears. “I’m fine.” 

“Percy.” 

“I’m fine!” 

“Are we talking about Percy’s shitty emotional state?” came a new voice.

Percy whirled around. “Where did you even come from?” 

Nico, as he often did, had emerged from nowhere, a small tourist shop bag in his grip. “You’re never fine.” 

“You’re not part of this conversation.” 

“Ooh, can I join in? I love talking about Percy’s shitty emotional state.” 

He whirled around again. “Don’t swear in front of my sister.” 

Hazel, also holding a plastic tourist shop bag, raised an eyebrow, completely unperturbed. “Like she hasn’t heard worse.” 

Next to her, adorned in one of those silly gold laurel crowns, Estelle grinned. “Shit!” she chirped in her bright, eleven year old voice. 

Percy groaned, throwing up his hands. “Great. Now both parents are going to be pissed at me.” 

“What,” Luke scoffed, “is Paul mad because he had to find out through the grapevine about William’s after-dark activities instead of getting them from the source?”

“No, it’s–” He sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I’m talking about my dad.” 

The good mood evaporated between them in an instant, a silent chill descending on them in the heat of the day. Even Estelle was affected, her big eyes shining with sudden concern as they looked between her siblings and cousins. 

“What do you mean your dad?” Luke asked, hushed but not in the least subdued. 

Nico glanced around. “He’s here?”

“He’s everywhere,” Percy shrugged. “Just like your dad. And yours.” He nodded at Luke, who grimaced. 

“It’s an annoying habit they have.” 

“Where?”

“The maritime museum, in Piraeus.” 

“Makes sense,” said Hazel, looking thoughtful. “What did he want?” 

Rolling his eyes, Percy began to herd them towards a newly vacated bench in the shade. It was too godsdamned hot out here. “To bother me about my race, what else?” 

Nico gingerly perched on the edge of the seat, tensed like he was about to run into the nearest shadow. “But what did he say?” 

“I told you, he wanted–” 

He shook his head. “Not what he wanted, what he said. Specifics.” 

“Why?” asked Luke.

“Because when my dad popped in to check on my quest, he ended up giving me the final clue I needed to finish it.” He smiled at his sister, who took his hand, and squeezed it. “Anyway, what I’m saying is, words matter. Especially when they’re coming from a god.”

Percy scoffed. “Why would he even bother coming to see me? It’s just a race.” 

“But it’s not just a race,” said Hazel. “Your dad came to see you. Personally.”

“So? There’s no–no non-mortal part of this. You,” he pointed at Nico, “you had to find a magic sword. And your dad told you to retrieve a golden apple.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Luke grumbled.

“This is just the Olympics. There’s nothing magical about it.”

Luke gave him a slightly patronizing look. “Bro, it's literally named after the gods.” 

“And you’re a part of it,” said Hazel. “I think that would qualify as something magical, even if it wasn’t an ancient Greek festival to Ju–to Zeus.”

The sound rang out in his head again, and Percy groaned, temple throbbing. “It’s just a stupid race. It's not even the Isthmian Games! Why should he care about some dumb modern secular game? It’s not like he cares about any other part of me!”

Luke’s mouth twisted in a sympathetic grimace. Nico and Hazel shared a look, uncomfortable. And Estelle slid over, giving her big brother a big hug, before releasing him, kicking her legs against the cobbled street.

“What did he say?” Nico asked again. 

Percy sighed. “I don’t know, he asked if I was ready for my race, and then he talked about Theseus and Bellerophon or whatever. And then he asked why I made a sacrifice to Hera.” The conversation was coming back in bits and pieces, made sluggish from the heat of the day. 

“Hera?” 

“Yeah. He… he was talking about Annabeth,” he said, remembering. “He said that he didn’t like her.”

They stared at him, identical confused frowns on their faces. Save Estelle, who was distracted by one of the hundreds of stray cats, attempting to lure it closer with a wiggle of her fingers.  

“What?” Luke’s voice cut through, incredulous. “Who wouldn’t like Annabeth? She’s awesome.” 

“Why would he even bring her up in the first place?” asked Hazel. “She’s… you know, mortal.” 

“Do you think he’s… interested? In her?” Nico looked vaguely queasy at his own question. 

They all fell silent, contemplating such a possibility. It wasn’t impossible. Annabeth was beautiful, intelligent, powerful, in her own way. All things that the gods historically tended to be attracted to. And they all knew it was rarely a good thing when a god was interested in a mortal. 

Percy shook his head, clearing his mind of some frankly disturbing thoughts. “No, I don’t think so. He just said that he didn’t like her. That she was the enemy.”

“The enemy?” Hazel asked.

“The hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know! It’s weird to me, too!” Percy stood up. He could no longer stand it. “And don’t you hear that ringing?” 

“Percy,” Nico said quietly. “We don’t hear anything.” 

Luke held out a comforting hand. “Where is it coming from?” 

Screwing his eyes shut, he focused his thoughts. The sound rang out again, reverberating in his ears, down through his spine and his chest, sending tingles through his fingers. His body was a bell, a conduit, a lightning rod for something else. An unknown energy poured itself into him, filling  him to his skin, nearly fit to bursting. 

Which was all well and good, but he still didn’t know where it was coming from. 

He threw his hands up. 

“Here,” said Luke. “Let me try something.” 

Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he quickly scrolled through his apps. Nico leaned over, curious, then incredulous. “Dice? Really?” 

“It’s a tried and true divination technique.” 

“With real dice, maybe. But a phone app?” 

“Well unless you have a D12 in your pocket, this is what we’ve got.” 

Nico harrumphed, folding his arms. “For the millionth time, Mythomagic is a card game, not a dice game–” 

“Just roll it, please,” Percy interrupted. 

Flashing a grin at Percy, Luke raised his arms as if in supplication, phone in hand. He closed his eyes, and began to chant in their ancient tongue, “I call upon you, who are seated in the middle of a field, you who with power direct the universe, at whom the serpents tremble, whom the mountains dread, whom nymphs fall down to worship, whom the sun and moon fall down to worship.” A cool, soothing breeze wafted past, ruffling their hair, a faint scent of frankincense on the wind. “You who have heaven for your throne,” he went on, “either as a place for your dancing place, and earth as your footstool. Holy, boundless, boundless, star organizer, gold-sandaled god, reveal your wisdom to us.” 

Then he brought his phone back down, and tapped the screen. 

They crowded around for a look. 

The little rolling animation stuttered, frames dropping, until the image landed on a number. “Four,” Luke said. 

“Wow,” Nico deadpanned. “The revelation. It’s overwhelming.” 

Luke huffed. “You have to roll it three times.” He tapped the screen again, revealing the next number: six. He went for a third roll–and then the app started playing an ad for the Acropolis. 

In unison, they groaned. 

Come visit the Byzantine Cistern on the Acropolis slope! It cheerfully proclaimed, in bright white letters. Acropolis and slopes tickets can be purchased online, or in-person.

“I told you,” said Nico. “Dice divination barely works with actual dice, let alone a phone app.” 

“Well, what’s your idea, then? Summon some zombies in the middle of a crowded street? Autopsy one of the cats, maybe?” 

“Wait,” said Percy. “Hold on.” 

Percy had been in Athens for a while. He’d been surrounded by marketing for the Acropolis literally from dawn to dusk–it was on every billboard, every poster, every single inch of Olympics marketing. The Acropolis was the crown jewel of Athens tourism, and Percy had been blasted by enough ads for the archaeological site that he practically had them memorized. 

But he had never seen this one before. 

The little video ad was showing an aerial view of the south slope, a drone camera slowly circling around, showing off the various finds from the hill. He saw the Odeon, the temple of Asclepius, the theater of Dionysus… then again… then again… then again. The camera was circling one ruin in particular. 

Come see the beautiful Byzantine Cistern! Proclaimed the ad again in big, white, obvious letters. 

“Guys,” he breathed, “I think this is the revelation.” 

“Ha!” Luke crowed. “Score one for the dice!” 

Of course, Luke changed his tune after they had been waiting in line to get into the Acropolis site for over thirty minutes. In the blazing sun. During the hottest part of the day. In fucking Athens.

“Stupid dice,” he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Apollo should have kept them.”

Nico glared at them, his dark hair plastered to his skin. 

Hazel and Estelle had bowed out of this part of the quest–Estelle had already visited the site, and something about the whole thing was giving Hazel a bad feeling. “I’m not sure,” she had said, only half-apologetically. “It just feels… wrong, to me. Like I shouldn’t be there.” 

“You just want to wait in the shade with some iced coffee.” 

She had smiled at her brother. “That, too. Besides, three is the best number for a quest. So me and the mortal would just be in your way.”

“Hey!” Estelle had pouted, even though anyone with eyes could see she was more than happy with the promise of an air conditioned Starbucks and the illicit coffee Hazel would definitely give her. 

“Why are we even waiting in this line?” Luke asked. “I can get you through, no problem.” 

“I already snuck into the Parthenon to make a sacrifice, I don’t want to push my luck.” A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he pulled out his phone, flipping open the camera.

“What are you doing?” 

“I promised Annabeth a tourist selfie.” He angled the camera towards the three of them, sweaty and unkempt and miserable. “Say cheese!” 

Nico, somehow, glared even harder. 

But eventually, they finally made their way in, Percy having paid for both of their tickets in exchange for their company. They followed the movement of the crowd, winding their way past tour groups and camera rigs, ducking the selfie-takers and the amateur videographers, until they had passed the theater of Dionysus, and had come to a fork in the path. “Here,” said Percy. “Look.” 

A little stone plaque announced their location. ΒΥΖΑΝΤΙΝΗ ΔΕΞΑΜΕΝΗ, it said. Byzantine Cistern. 

“This is it.” 

“Really?” Nico asked. “It doesn’t look like much.” 

He wasn’t wrong. The stone roof of the cistern barely came up to Percy’s chest, the bricks long since grown over with grass and wildflowers. Behind the rusting metal gate was a wooden platform, a dented bucket, and a piece of lighting equipment, shoved in an out of the way corner and forgotten. But beyond the wooden platform was a yawning darkness, a promise of greater space under the earth, of an answer to be found. 

Percy breathed in, and smelled the salty air of the ocean. The bell in his head resounded, vibrating deep in his chest. “It’s here. Trust me.” 

“Okay. How do we get in?” 

“Hey,” said Luke. “Check this out.” He had cleared a patch of grass from the sloping side of the cistern. There, too clean to be an accident, was a triangle, scratched into the brick wall. A delta. 

“The Labyrinth,” he said, stunned. “All the way over here?” 

Nico hugged himself, frowning. “Do you think it’s the same one? Or…” 

“It’s got to be,” Luke said, “or at least it used to be.” He stepped back, gesturing to the wall. “Percy?”

“Why can’t you open it?” 

“It’s your quest,” he said. “You do it.” 

Couldn’t argue with that logic. With only a little hesitation, then, Percy approached the wall, and laid his hand over the symbol. The delta glowed blue, then the wall split open, the earth pulling apart until it began to reveal a staircase, descending into the thick darkness. He looked around, half-expecting a burly Greek security guard to jump out of the bushes and arrest them all for tampering with an ancient monument, or a tourist snapping photos of the fissure which just appeared in the dirt, but no one was paying attention to them. The crowds mingled on, studiously avoiding the Byzantine ruin. 

“Well?” he asked his cousins. “Shall we?” 

They followed him without much complaint, though they both looked distinctly unhappy. Nico, Percy knew, had lived in the Labyrinth for a few months, trying to find information on his mother, while Luke just really didn’t like going underground. Like, really. Percy took a moment to bask in the love and affection he had for these two, following him down a magical, subterranean staircase on nothing more than a whim and a revelation in the form of a phone game ad. “I wish we’d brought Hazel,” Luke muttered. “She’s better underground than the squirt here.” 

Percy looked back at Nico. “You just gonna take that?” 

He shrugged. “He’s not wrong.” 

Luke had offered up his phone flashlight, but as they descended further, they found they didn’t need it. A soft blue light emanated from the walls, as the harsh, thin lines of Roman brickwork and modern excavation gave way to soft, solid, gently-rippled stone walls, the bricks becoming taller, wider, smoother, and at the bottom of the staircase, they could see a muted, orange glow. Lower down, the steps widened, growing shallower, as the room opened up, revealing a large cavern, the high, domed ceiling held up by impossibly tall, thick, plain columns. They didn’t have the decoration on the sides–the fluting, Percy recalled Annabeth telling him–that basically every other column type had, which meant that they were old. Very old. 

“What is this place?” Luke whispered, his voice echoing in the empty cavern. 

“Don’t know, but it’s old,” Percy said. 

“No kidding.” Nico reached out, placing a hand on the temple. “This stone is ancient. Even for us.” 

“Do you hear that?” The ringing in Percy’s head had stopped, replaced instead by… a faint trickle of water? 

The long rows of columns lead them to the end of the temple, for that’s what this place had to be. There was no altar, but there was a jagged crow’s-foot shape as long as a human body, lumpy and white, like stone scar tissue. Percy knelt, touching the rock, and his fingers came back wet. He sniffed them–saltwater–and sat back on his heels, his shoulders suddenly heavy. 

Luke came up behind him. “What is it?” 

“This is the place,” Percy said.

“What place?” 

“Where the rivalry started. Look.” He gestured again to the rock. “That’s where my father struck the trident, creating the saltwater spring.” 

“Woah.” Nico came over, bending for a better look. “So this is where he lost.”

He had to bite down the retort that threatened to rise up, pouring out of his throat that no, Poseidon didn’t lose, he still had a temple and a whole ass port dedicated to him even if he wasn’t chosen for patron. It was almost instinctual to defend his father… in the godly realm, at least. 

But Nico was right, after a fashion. His father had lost the contest, right here in this spot, a loss so profound that it was written into the very foundations of the city. An insult like that could be deadly to a god. Maybe that was why he was being so hard on Percy and his race. He needed a win, specifically in this city, in order to prop up his ego. Which, fine, Percy could understand, if not sympathize. But if all he was worried about was a gold medal, then what the hell did Annabeth have to do with anything? Why did his father call her the enemy? 

From the corner of his eye, something glinted in the low, blue light. “Give me your flashlight,” he gestured to Luke, somewhere behind him. 

His cousin obliged. There was something there, covered in a thick layer of dust, almost like it had been buried here. He pulled out a small, smooth disk of bronze the size of a tea saucer, and when he used his shirt to wipe it, he could see delicate letters and illustrations etched on the sides. 

He squinted. The lines seemed to form some kind of shape–a bird? Maybe an eagle? But before he could look more closely, the illustrations vanished, melting into the metal. 

“What is it?” Luke asked. 

Percy shrugged. “No clue.” He stood up, and the boys crowded around him for a better look. “There were markings on it a second ago, and then they just… vanished.” 

“Let me see.” Nico held it in his fingers, twisting it this way and that, scrutinizing every inch. “What kind of markings?” 

“I didn’t get a close enough look, but I thought it might be a bird.”

“An eagle?” Luke suggested. “Could be Roman.”

Nico frowned. “Maybe. But this is definitely bronze, not gold.”

Well, Percy was stumped. “So what’s the verdict?” 

“Old,” he said. “Very powerful.” 

“I could have told you that,” Luke muttered. 

“You probably shouldn’t lose it.” 

Percy deliberated for a second, then passed it over to Luke. “You hang onto it.” 

“Me? Why?”

“Because it would end up in your pocket by the end of the day anyway.��

“I resent that accusation.” 

“You literally lifted my wallet this morning.”

He opened his mouth, as if to argue his case, but sighed instead, slipping the disk into his pocket, where Percy knew it would be very safe indeed. When Luke kept a hold of something, he kept it locked up tight. It would be secure in his cousin’s sticky fingers.

They trudged their way back up the staircase, squinting as the bright light of the Athens sunshine burned down on them. It didn’t look dramatically lower than when they had gone in, and Luke checked his watch to confirm that they hadn’t lost too much time. Down at the bottom of the hill, through the thinning crowd of tourists and past the metal fence, Percy could see Hazel and Estelle, sitting on a bench and sharing a couple of ice cream cones. His sister spotted them first, perking up, and waving her arms frantically, drops of melted vanilla flinging onto the street.

“C’mon, guys,” he said, fingers tingling with the phantom sensation of the bronze disk. “Let’s get out of this heat.”

Because surely, that was the source of the weight he suddenly felt on his shoulders, the stickiness on the back of his neck. The hot, powerful Athens heat. Nothing else.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

a mini ficlette to say sorry for not uploading as much recently that ended up not at all being mini and being almost 1k words but im posting anyways bc i will get more consistent i swear

also posting on mobile (so the formatting is probably shit) so not doing taglist bc idk how to do that lol. will properly fix everything up when i get home have my precious laptop

enough blabbering, here is the ficlette!

“sarah!” you whisper again, but your friend doesn't budge. you sigh and climb out of bed, glad that its a california king, big enough for both of you to share comfortably, and for your thrashing not to wake her up.

you warned sarah that you were prone to nightmares and didn't mind sleeping on the floor or in one of the guest bedrooms, but sarah insisted it was fine to share as she's a deep sleeper. you look back at her as you slip out of the room, realizing just how true that is.

you walk down the stairs quietly, glad that the stairs don't creak too loudly. when you reach the first floor, you pause to make sure you didn't wake anyone up before wandering through the house. aimless pacing is your best solution to getting over a nightmare, moving your body to tire it out and easing your mind at the same time.

you hum softly to yourself, a comforting tune your mother used to sing to you when you were a child. you don't know the name of it, but the melody is cemented in your memory.

you admire the art on the wall, your eyes having adjusted to the moonlight shining through the windows enough to make it out. you see a movement out of the corner of your eye and gasp, turning when the noise reaches you of the front door closing.

“what are you doing awake?” rafe asks, his voice low as he sneaks back into the house. what you didn't know is that he stayed out late just to avoid you, not wanting to get involved with his sisters friend but unable to control his emotions when around you.

“i-i had a nightmare.” you explain, eyebrows knitting together as you wait to hear the judgement coming from rafe. a scoffing laugh at still getting nightmares, maybe him calling you immature, a child, but it doesn't come. in fact, his face softens.

“im sorry.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, briefly pushing it off his forehead before it falls immediately back into place. “what usually helps?”

“walking around.” you wave your hand in the air, indicating that you just wander.

“can i join you then?” rafe offers, and you give a small nod. “yeah. yeah, totally.” you smile as rafe comes to your side, joining each other in slowly walking around the first floor of the house. you're silent for a couple minutes before you start to hum again, not missing the smile that graces rafes face when your tune begins.

your music is interrupted by yawns, until you're doing more yawning than whistling. 

“come on, let's get you to bed.” rafe says when you pass in front of the stairs, a firm hand on your back. you nod, letting him partially support your weight as you walk up the stairs.

“thanks, rafe.” you say softly when you reach his door.

“will you be okay?” he asks, a hand smoothing over your hair, his fingers twirling the end before dropping it. “i mean, with your nightmare.”

“i-i probably will be.” you say honestly. usually once you have a nightmare that wakes you, you don't have another when you manage to get back to sleep.

“you can-” rafe clears his throat, his eyes darting around your face. “you can sleep in my bed. if you want… with me.” rafe clarifies after a moment when you just silently stare at him.

“like… cuddle?” you question, wanting to make sure his intentions are very clear.

“yeah. cuddle. i can hold you so you don't have any more nightmares.”

“yes. yeah” you nod, “id really like that, rafe.”

“okay.” rafe smiles, opening his door and letting you walk in first.

you don't spend time looking around the room, heading right for the bed hoping that rafe doesn't see your shaking hands. 

rafe moves with you, pulling back the covers so you can climb in, and you let out a soft sigh when your head rests against the pillows. you lay still as rafe adjusts next to you, pulling the covers over both your bodies.

you're silent for a moment, before rafe turns and looks at you in the low light, “gonna come closer?”

you let out a soft giggle, sliding to meet rafe in the middle of the bed. his arms wrap around you, your head coming to lay on his chest, feeling natural and right as you lay a leg over his, your bodies fitting together as if they were meant to be.

“if a nightmare wakes you up and for some reason it doesn't wake me up, just shake me awake.”

“okay… thank you rafe.” you say, laying a hand over his chest. 

rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand coming to cautiously rest on your lower back, and when you let out a hum of approval, he begins to rub over your pajama shirt.

“what do you think sarah is going to say when she wakes up and im not there?”

“don't worry about sarah. don't worry about anything right now, y/n. let's just get some sleep and we can worry about things in the morning.”

“okay.” you nod, picking your head up to look at rafe, his skin reflecting blue from the moonlight. you lean forward and press a light kiss to his jaw, and then another stronger, more meaningful kiss to his cheek. you move for his mouth but pause before you fully make contact.

“in the morning.” you whisper, not wanting to make a serious move on a sleep deprived brain, and rafe nods, eyelashes fluttering.

“in the morning.”

[chesters-ocs]

uh. yeah.

wc: 1k

Startling awake, Sylvester reached for his phone to answer the call that came late in the evening, not even fully reading the caller's ID, though, not like he could process it in the first moments of wakefulness.

"Hello?" He speaks, voice thick with sleep, but only hearing nothing but strong winds from the other side, alongside a slight rustling noise. He repeats his question.

"Hello? Anyone there?" The exhausted man asks once more, before finally getting a response from a voice he almost recognizes in his foggy state.

"Sorry, did we wake you? This is Vikram... And Ashok." There it is. that's where he knows them from.

Sitting upright in bed, Sylvester greets them back, voice low and raspy. "Hey... Need summ'n?" He drawls, fighting off the urge to hang up and go back to bed.

"Yeah. Our car broke down..."

"... And?" He grumbles, not quite connecting the dots.

"Could you pick us up? Or not, you should probably go back to bed-" Vikram gets cut off by a stifled yawn from the other end of the line, as Sylvester makes his decision.

"I'll pick y' up... How far?"

A beat passes as he tries to explain without annoying the already disgruntled man further "Other side of town."

It's Sylvester's turn to be silent, as he rubs sleep from his eyes, and moves the blankets, planting his feet on the ground, before remembering he needs to respond, "Uh, yeah. Fine. Send t' address." He mumbles, before hanging up as he stands.

Sylvester is barely bothered enough to wash his face and brush his hair, which just gets tied in a loose ponytail for convenience's sake. Hell, he's barely dressed. still in a tanktop and shorts, just having put on slippers now. He quickly checks up if his daughter is still asleep, he nods to himself, before leaving, locking the door.

'Christ,' he thought to himself, 'he shouldn't have picked up. Who breaks down their car at 4 in the morning?!'

The drive is mostly smooth sailing, with him stopping at a gas station on the way for some shitty coffee so he doesn't fall asleep behind the wheel.

Sipping on his drink, he eventually spots the two men alongside their car in an empty gas station parking lot, with the emergency signal still blinking. Both of them are standing near a street light.

He rolls to a stop, swiftly getting out, approaching the two, and to his surprise, Ashok is the one to greet him first, "Good morning. I am so sorry for this, we are new to the city and you are the only one we knew in a hundred mile radius"

"All good... Call a tow truck already?" He asks, taking another swig of his hot drink.

"Yeah, we did. But it's getting here at seven."

"Gotcha... Why'd y' even call me? I ain't no mechanic."

"Moral support?" Ashok suggests, not entirely sure himself, "I guess we panicked."

"Hm.. Well. We got three hours. You two hungry? Gas station food's decent here."

"I'll pass." Vikram finally speaks up, having been just quietly staring down his soulmate beforehand, which Sylvester doesn't comment on.

"And you? Ashok, was it?"

"That's me. And you're Sylvester." He states confidently.

"That I am. Good to put a face to the name. Did he tell you about us?"

"Lover boy hasn't shut the fuck up about you since day one! Of course he told me!" He snorts, causing the now silent man to look the other way.

"Question still stands. Food, or no food?"

"I guess I could ago for some caffeine." Ashok hums, entering the dingy building, and Sylvester shuts off his car, drinking the rest of his cup, before disposing of it in the bin by the entrance, following after him. Leaving Vikram no choice, but to lumber behind them as well.

While there, Sylvester picks up a few snacks for him and his kid, who's still sound asleep back home.

As he brings them to the register, Vikram scoffs "That does not seem healthy."

"It's for the kid."

"Even less so, then!"

"Wait, kid?" Ashok asks, as he waits for his beverage of choice to be served by the lone employee. "Why didn't I know about that?"

"Why should you?" Vikram asks, sounding almost bored.

"Well, you kept talking my ear off, figured you would've mentioned that your oh-so hot and smart and sexy soulmate has a kid" He mocks lightly, causing a glare to be shot his way by the tall man.

"She's my daughter too now, y'know.." He grunts, causing Sylvester's ears to perk up as he gives him a questioning look.

"Not until you ask me out, she's not." He grins lazily, as he pays, at the same time as Ashok gets his drink.

The three of them leave soon after, and Sylvester opts to sit on the curb, the guys following suit.

"So.. Daughter?"

"Mhm."

"... She.. from you both-?" "Heavens, no!" Sylvester scoffs at the mere idea, before explaining himself.

"I've known Mr Grumpy over here for what, a month? I simply had her from a previous relationship. My ex-wife cheated, and that resulted in a kid. Her name's Mārīte," He says, making sure to pronounce the word a little slower than usual so it at least appears to be comprehensible, before adding on "Most call her Mary though."

"I see... So you were married? With someone who wasn't your soulmate?" Ashok pries, much to Vikrams chagrin, even though he himself couldn't help but wonder about the curious circumstances.

"Yeah. We didnt believe in the whole bullshit back then. Wanted to make our own paths, instead of following destiny. But here I am anyways." He muses, popping a piece of gum in his mouth.

A silence falls, and the night wind picks up, causing the shortest of the bunch to shiver, which Vikram takes as his chance to make a move. He drapes his own gigantic army-green jacket over his shoulders, which is gladly accepted and zipped up neatly.

"Thank you... So.. Any other questions?" He asks, now more awake than ever, as he stares at the pair intently. Moments later, his eyes catch the first rays of the sunrise peeking over the buildings, as the clock strikes 6am.

[owlsandwich]

The Mechanics of Magic

Read along with me :D - Chapter 8

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It would be unfair to say I hate this chapter, but I still remember how hard it was to write. I don't write crime, and so I really struggle with scenes that require formal police involvement or law. At least it's a fantasy world, so I have the freedom of making up the procedural rules myself!

Something I've noticed is that Mechanics has a lot more internal thoughts than Darkness (though, as will be revealed later, this is for good reason)

Chapter 8 is under the cut:

Tamara pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to stifle a yawn. Pale threads of dawn had barely begun to weave across the sky when Morgan’s messenger had woken her, bringing news that a vehicle would be ready to collect her within the hour. She estimated that she’d managed maybe five hours sleep, and the soothing motion of the government car was not helping her to stay alert. 

The incident report lay on her lap, and she again ran a finger over the note stuck to the front: One for you to look into. Morgan’s handwriting was neat and understated, but his signature below the message was unmistakable. She didn’t know whether to be grateful that the document held only scant details; it had made quick reading despite her frazzled mental state, but she still wasn’t sure what to expect upon arriving in Golebach.

Gravel crunched as they pulled into the car park of a bleak, grey building that Tamara assumed must be the local police station. She coughed to clear her throat, aware that she hadn’t spoken for the entire journey, and attempted to form her face into an expression of engaged interest. After a moment, her driver opened the door and Tamara thanked him with a smile that she hoped hid her exhaustion. Report clutched tight to her chest, she straightened her jacket and stepped into the fresh morning air. 

There was no one waiting outside, and she eyed the door to the building, wondering if she should just walk in. Before she had to decide, it was opened by a tall police officer in a crumpled uniform, who looked as though she may have had even less sleep than Tamara.  

“Hi, I’m here from the palace.” Tamara stepped forward as she spoke, rotating her folder so the ID card she’d slipped into the front was visible. The woman glanced down at it and back to her face, before holding out a hand.

“It’s good to meet you. I’m Head Officer Helen James.”

Tamara took the outstretched hand as two other people emerged from the building.

“This is Officer Barrie. He was first on the scene.” Helen gestured to the short man who had walked up on her right. “Senior Officer Robinson assisted in securing the site and transporting the suspects involved.”

The younger, clean-shaven man to Helen’s left stepped forward and shook Tamara’s hand. 

“I’m Tamara Elden. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, releasing the handshake before Robinson could feel the clamminess of her palm. “I read the report on the way down, but it was a little light on detail. Has anything happened since?”

“Apologies for that.” Helen’s alert manner belied her appearance, and Tamara sensed a radiating magic energy from her that revealed her to be a mage. “We alerted the palace as soon as we determined there could be magic involved, however I am aware that meant the report was rushed. Would you like to come inside, and I’ll give you a run-down of events?”

The other two officers were looking at her with wary fascination as they walked, and Tamara was glad she had the report to occupy her nervous hands. A short corridor opened into a small office area dominated by scattered paperwork and the strong scent of coffee. Helen gave a brief wave to one or two people that looked up as they passed. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, looking back at Tamara over her shoulder.

“That would be great, thanks,” she replied. People were usually kinder when you accepted their offers. “Milk and one sugar, please.”

“Jason, can you grab some coffees for us?” Helen called to a young man who was attempting to scuttle by with a stack of folders. He nodded and dashed off, leaving Helen to lead Tamara and the other officers into what was presumably an interview room. 

Chairs screeched on the vinyl floor as they sat, and Tamara laid her folder on the empty white table in front of them.

“Very little has changed since the report,” Helen said, continuing from where she had left off outside. “As you will have read, we started getting calls about an earthquake at approximately twenty past eight yesterday evening. One or two of the higher-magic locals said they felt magical energy around the same time, but mostly it was just people who were scared.”

“I can imagine,” Tamara replied. “Ardveld isn’t known for its tectonic activity; there shouldn’t be any earthquakes here.”

“Exactly.” Helen nodded. “So when a call came in about an explosion, things began to make more sense.”

A large enough shock wave might well explain the supposed earthquake. Barrie had taken a seat next to Tamara and now cleared his throat with a dry cough. “I was about to head down to the village when we got the report of a loud explosion from Golebach Court—”

“It’s a local historical site that’s open to the public,” Helen interjected. Tamara opened the file and leafed through to the picture of the manor house, rotating it so the others could see.

Barrie went on. “I drove over there expecting some kind of equipment malfunction or something, but when I arrived… Well, there should be some photos.”

Tamara turned the page to an image of a stone structure, surrounded by blackened grass and spattered dirt. 

“This is where the report says the explosion happened,” Tamara said. “Is this near the manor then?”

“The actual bomb site is an ancient ruin, about a hundred meters from the manor,” Helen explained. “It’s in the grounds but accessible at all hours.” 

The door clicked open as the junior from earlier brought in their drinks. Tamara took her coffee, cupping the mug in her hands to warm her fingers.

“So I got there,” Barrie continued when the junior departed. “And I saw the damage, which is basically as the picture shows — however, there were also two casualties at site. That’s when I decided I’d better call this one in.” He looked towards Tamara. “I contacted the station for medical and backup, and made sure they weren’t dead.”

Tamara nodded, eyes not leaving the photo. “Where are they now? The report said they were uninjured, though the young man had magic sickness. Is that correct?”

This time it was Robinson who replied. “Yes. After medical checked them over and we’d secured the site, we brought them back here to await interview. There were no serious injuries apart from magic sickness.”

That’s a relief, at least. 

“Could it have been an accident?” Tamara asked. If she remembered the report correctly, the explosion had supposedly been caused by a device that two teenagers had brought to the site. She pulled the folder back towards her and flipped to the page showing the transcribed text.

“Sure. If you want to call getting caught up in the blast from their own bomb an ‘accident’.” Barrie rolled his eyes and earned a stern look from Helen.

“They actually admitted that they made a bomb then?” Tamara frowned. “Did the young woman tell you this? I can’t imagine you would’ve got much information from the magic sickness case.” 

Opposite her, Robinson glanced at Helen, and Tamara had the uncomfortable feeling that she had said the wrong thing.

“The transcript in the report is what the female suspect told us as we were bringing them in,” Helen explained. “Despite my colleague’s assumptions, the suspects haven’t confirmed the purpose of the device they brought to site. We obviously haven’t conducted any interviews, as the reports of large scale magic place this case under palace jurisdiction. As per protocol, we have waited for you to conduct the interviews when you take over the case.”

“Ah.” 

Take over the case? The room felt even colder than it had before. 

It made sense that they would think as much. After all, she had come from the palace so technically she was the most senior person here. Tamara sipped her coffee, burning her tongue. As Head of Magic Affairs, she had expected to come here and evaluate the source and mechanism of a magical incident, but Morgan had given her no formal instruction for direct involvement with suspects.

Surely that should fall under defence…?

“I believe that I am just here to assist and advise on the magical elements of this case.” Tamara placed the mug down with a clunk and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Helen suddenly looked exhausted. “My apologies, but we are a small operation here.” She rubbed at her eyes, losing some of her professional composure. “Protocol says that we must refer upwards in any case where there are signs of powerful magic involvement, and this... bombing is far beyond what we are equipped to deal with. I was informed that an advisor had been sent from the palace. Isn’t that you?”

Three pairs of eyes were scrutinising her now, and Tamara looked down at her report, scrambling for an answer. Her burnt tongue hurt, and she pulled on her magic to soothe it. Maybe it was supposed to be her dealing with this. The memory of her last conversation with Morgan flashed into her mind: she and him in the dim office where he’d shown her a letter of resignation from his former Head of Defence. 

“I— Please don’t worry. I’ll contact the palace and find out who is coming to take over the case. In the meantime, I will see if I can determine exactly what magic was involved.” Tamara hoped her voice contained the authority she wished she felt. Helen, at least, appeared reassured. 

“Thank you,” the Head Officer said. “Until then, we will assist you in whatever you require. Where would you like to start?”

“Well…” Tamara chewed at her lip. “I think it’s best that I go and visit the site.”

*

The drive to the manor was short, and the police car stopped outside a cordoned-off area around the manor house and grounds. Helen informed Tamara that, though the ruin was obviously a crime scene, they were also concerned about the structural stability of the manor, given the movement of the ground. 

As they approached the ruin, Tamara could see for herself what the picture had shown — a shallow crater surrounded by mud and scorched grass. The two officers stationed there let them pass, and Tamara ventured ahead to what looked to be the explosion’s epicentre. 

There wasn’t much to look at. The ground was hard from the summer heat, which may have gone some way to limit the damage, but whatever blast had occurred didn’t seem to have been all that impactful. Apart from some scorch marks, even the ruin itself appeared undamaged to Tamara’s eyes. That at least explained how the two teenagers had made it out unscathed. Presumably the remains of the so-called bomb had already been safely removed, as there was no shrapnel of any kind to be seen.

There was no magic that she could sense here either, not even from the manor behind them, which should have been teeming with spells.

“Everything okay?” Helen said as she approached, and Tamara hummed an acknowledgement without turning to look.

A moment later, her brain caught up. “Oh, yes. Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“It’s no problem. Please, carry on.”

Tamara flicked her fingers a few times, then stopped as she saw Helen watching. The Head Officer had been kind and respectful so far, and she felt it was worth giving an explanation. “I’m from Avel Kifaeros,” she said, with what she hoped was a non-threatening smile. “So if I seem a little, well, odd...”

“Ah.” Helen nodded. “Don’t worry; my nephew is like that. He’s Ardveldian, but you know what I mean. Take all the time you need.”

It was a good enough response. Though they were the majority in Avel Kifaeros, it wasn’t unusual for people in other parts of the world to be born with the typical mix of traits associated with the Kifaerish. If it helped Helen understand, then it was a useful piece of information to share, as long as she afforded Tamara the same respect as she had before she knew.

“There doesn’t seem to be any magic around the building.” Tamara gestured towards the manor.

“Yes, I’ve just heard that myself.” To her relief, Helen allowed the conversation return to work. “It seems like whatever happened here wiped the passive spells nearest the manor. Staff aren’t happy – they’ll need to bring someone in to recast the more complex ones.” 

A light wind whipped up the dust at Tamara’s feet, and she looked back towards the stones. “I don’t see how a bomb could have done that. Not without physical damage to the building.” Being a mage herself, Helen should have known that. Tamara squinted at her face. “And why would anyone want to set off a bomb here anyway?”

Helen folded her arms with a frown. “Pure selfishness? Don’t think I’ll ever understand what these kids get out of vandalising places that others enjoy.”

Blackened dirt came away when Tamara brushed a hand over the closest scorch mark, but the stone underneath remained intact. “There doesn’t seem to be much damage to the ruin, either,” she said, dusting her fingers on her skirt. “You said you originally got calls about an earthquake? Before the report of the explosion?” 

Helen nodded and Tamara continued, her mind chasing an idea. “Was there any damage in town?”

“Yes,” Helen replied. “Not a great deal, but there was some minor structural damage to a few buildings.”

This was it. The part that didn’t make sense. “Were they just out of range of hearing the explosion then? Or is it possible that the damage in town did genuinely happen first?”

Helen seemed to hesitate before replying. “I’m not quite sure what you mean. You’re suggesting we could be dealing with two separate events?” Her expression remained polite, but left Tamara wondering if she had just said something incredibly stupid. “With all due respect, it’s not something I had even considered. Don’t you think that would be far too much of a coincidence?”

Tamara bobbed her head as she attempted to arrange her thoughts into a reasonable explanation. “I don’t necessarily think the events are unlinked,” she began carefully. “But I was called here because there was likely magic involved. The damage from this explosion is nowhere near enough to have reached the town. I mean, it barely reaches ten meters and didn’t harm the ruin at all. It makes me wonder if there is something magic based going on that caused both the town damage first, and then the explosion.”

Helen breathed a sigh, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked up at the manor. “An explosion alone wouldn’t have got rid of those spells. You’re right about that.” With an incline of her head, she started walking back towards the perimeter. Tamara took the hint and followed. “You honestly think two eighteen-year-olds could have enough magic to cause an earthquake?” Helen lowered her voice as she spoke.

“I’ve never heard of any mage strong enough to cause an earthquake,” Tamara replied. “But the boy does have magic sickness. There could be more to it than him just having shielded them both. I think I need to talk to them both.”

“I thought you didn’t want to take over the case?” Helen said, opening the passenger door for Tamara as they reached the waiting car.

“I don’t, and I still plan on calling the palace for you, but I need to ask more questions before I can pass on a report,” Tamara replied, settling into the seat. “Will that be okay?”

“Of course.” Helen sounded surprised, and again Tamara was reminded of her own seniority. “Whatever you need.”

*

Heavy doors sealed off the two holding cells from a bare grey corridor back at the station. Tamara had to rise up on her toes to see through the open hatch of the first. Inside, a young woman lay on a narrow bed, apparently asleep.

“Don’t wake her if we don’t need to,” Tamara said, putting out a hand to stop Helen from opening the door. “Perhaps the other one is awake?”

“I’m happy to check, but I don’t know how much you’ll get out of him, even if he is,” Helen replied. “Unless there’s anything you could do to speed up his recovery?” 

“Unfortunately not.” Tamara was unable to help a smile at Helen’s suggestion. “Even I can’t transfer magic into someone else. The only thing we can do is keep them rested and cared for until they recover their energy naturally.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be asleep anymore.” Helen was looking through the hatch into the next room, and Tamara craned herself around beside her to see. The room was a mirror of the previous cell — a small single bed running down the left side of a white brick wall. Sat on the bed, staring down at the floor, was the young man they had been discussing. He didn’t seem to have noticed their arrival, despite their conversation outside the door. 

“Do you mind if I go inside to talk to him?” Tamara asked. “It’s nothing formal, so it seems unfair to make him move.”

“Go ahead.” Helen placed a hand on the door and whatever spell powered the lock clicked open as it registered her identity. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Tamara doubted a magic-drained teenager would be much of a threat, even if he wanted to be. “He may need water if he’s been asleep since the incident. I’ll let you know if he says anything.”

Helen gave a nod. “Fair enough. I’ll be just down the corridor. Call if there’s anything you need.”

With a push, Tamara swung the door open, and stepped inside. It closed with a metallic clang behind her, but the teenager still didn’t look up. 

Tamara slid the report folder from where she had been carrying it under her arm. Thankfully, their names were already listed in the transcription. Closing the folder softly, she walked towards the figure on the bed.

“Hello? Alexander? How are you feeling?” Dark brown curls partially obscured his face, but he stirred at the mention of his name. That was better than nothing. With no other seats in the room, she perched herself further down the bed. “It’s okay. I just want to talk. Can you hear me?”

This time, he lifted his head. Tamara saw him squeeze his eyes shut and then slowly open them, as if trying to focus on the room. Despite the tan of his skin, there was an ashen sheen over his face that made her want to reach out and comfort him, just as her mother had done when she was sick as a child.

He made a sound of acknowledgement and Tamara decided to wait to see if he needed some time to process. It was a few seconds before her patience was rewarded. “It’s Alex. Sorry. I’m... I’m really tired.” 

“No, it’s okay. I know you’re tired.” Maintaining the conversation was important now he was responding. “I just need to ask you some questions. Is that alright?” 

The reply came quicker this time. “Yeah... sure. I don’t— I don’t think...” She watched as he moved his fingers, clenching and unclenching his hands, and remembered the weakness and nausea that came when she overused her own magic.

“You don’t think…?” Tamara prompted, hoping he would pick up the train of thought again.

“Sorry.” Alex turned his head, and she found herself looking into unfocussed dark eyes. “I don’t think I’m very well.”

 Tamara’s heart twinged with sympathy. “Yes, that’s true. You overused your magic. Can you tell me what happened?”

 Alex squinted. “We were... we were at the site. The place... with the magic.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and gave a small shake of his head. “I can’t really think. The name... you know?”

“Do you mean the ruin near Golebach Court?” Tamara had a vague memory that you shouldn’t ask leading questions in an interview, but then this wasn’t really a proper interview, so she figured it would be fine.

“Yes!”

Tamara was surprised to see him give a weak smile before he seemed to drift back into his own thoughts. “Okay, so you were at the ruin, remember? Can you tell me why you were there?”

“Hmmm... We were there, yes.” He didn’t seem to be able to keep focus for long enough to give her any information. Perhaps this was a lost cause. Tamara ran her fingers over the plastic cover of the folder, remembering the note from Morgan that she had slipped away inside. One for you to look into. 

“I brought the generator. To try... to try the ground magic.” Alex spoke again and his eyes seemed to gain focus as they widened. “Eira! She was with me. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Nobody was hurt.” Tamara kept her voice gentle, and Alex appeared to relax. His words, though, had set her mind racing. “What do you mean by ‘ground magic’?”

“Ground magic... you know? It’s there. In the ground.” He leant forward and buried his head in his hands with a groan. “I’m sorry. I can’t think.”

Ground magic in the ground. Not very helpful. 

Alex knew something, though. He was talking about some kind of magic that hadn’t been there when Tamara had gone to the site. She would have to wait until his head cleared and hope he was still forthcoming with information. 

Of course, by that point, he would be being interviewed by whoever else the palace sent to take over the case. Tamara had no idea what kind of approach they would take. 

“I’m going to let you rest now.” She stood up from the bed. “I’ll arrange for someone to bring you water. Please lie down and try not to worry.” 

It was hard to tell what sort of person she was dealing with while Alex was in this state, but Tamara just couldn’t picture the teenager as a hardened criminal. She walked over to the hatch in the door and called down the corridor for Helen, leaving Alex slumped at the edge of the bed.

*

“So how did it go? Did you learn anything?” Helen asked once they were back in the interview room.

“More questions than answers, unfortunately.” Tamara sighed. “I think I’ll have to do further research back at the palace.”

“Do you know when we’ll hear who’s taking over the case?” Helen’s question reminded her that she should probably call Morgan now, rather than arranging a meeting when she got back. That’s if he even had time to take a call. 

They had only given her this role to fill a gap; Morgan had said as much at their last meeting, but she was still the Head of Magic Affairs. Hadn’t she told him she intended to do the best job she could? A wrong choice had to be better than no choice after all, especially if she was expected to fail, anyway.

Forcing herself to meet Helen’s eyes, Tamara gripped the folder until the edge dug into her palm. She would have to take the teenagers back to the palace with her; it was clear now that the little police station wasn’t equipped to cope with them. “You won’t need to wait. I’ve decided I’m going to take on the case myself

[winterandwords]

Word find tag (tall, gold, heal, hurt & baffle, bare, bear, bend, bow)

@indecentpause tagged me to search my WIP for tall, gold, heal, and hurt, and @ahordeofwasps gave me baffle, bare, bear, bend, and bow. Thanks, friends!

These are from Bridge From Ashes...

TALL

“Tall-ish, but not as tall as you. A few years older. Skinny strong. And he had a scar here.” She draws a line under her chin with her finger. “Shaved head with another big scar across the back of it and a smaller one underneath. And really pale eyes, haunted looking, like he’d seen some shit. Good cheekbones though. Baby, if you weren’t the trouble, I’d think you were in trouble.

GOLD

I arrive at work and I’m still halfway between pissed off at Gillen and pissed off at myself, or maybe the whole way to both of those things at the same time. Kartheiser’s waiting for me in the Elite Ops corridor, staring out at the city lit up gold by the rising sun. She’s touching the window like she wishes she could reach through it, but she slides her hands into her pockets as soon as she sees me.

HEAL

A misplaced exit sign hangs above us, repurposed as general lighting by someone with either a creative sense of humour or a deep awareness of what people are looking for here. It casts a tired green glow, painting rough shadows around us, and I take a cautery kit out of my pocket, assembling a tool for destruction and healing with a broad-stroke nib.

HURT

This is the memory that twists in my gut and empties bottles down my throat, the memory that throws my head back into blindness when something starts to hurt enough.

BAFFLE CONFUSE

He opens the window and waits for exactly the right moment, then throws the chip at the roof of a passing cab. It bounces and vanishes from view, perhaps onto another cab and another, then maybe into the street below to be trampled and kicked and carried along on the soles of strangers' shoes. “It’ll keep moving long enough to confuse Them. We need to get you a new ID.”

BARE

He sits up and yawns, looking around the room with the kind of mild disgust that comes from seeing something in the morning that was only barely tolerable the night before.

BEAR CARRY

The cells I deliver around the bars are worth more than I’ve ever been and the tech I carry in cargo runs could buy and sell me a thousand times over. My boss says I’m a good combination. Pretty enough to get people to open the door, big enough to scare the shit out of them, and strong enough to make them let go of something they changed their mind about selling. My boss tells me all the time that I’m making good choices.

BEND

When we reach another solid door at the bottom of the stairs, Brennan takes the last of the charges from her pack with a firm nod. “I guess this is it.” She sets it in place and we back up around the final bend in the staircase before she triggers it. When we open the door, we come face to face with more darkness. It’s not an empty darkness this time though. It’s alive with anxious breathing.

This is an OPEN TAG, so if you're seeing this and you'd like to join in, the words to search your WIP for are no, none, nothing, and not. Remember to @ me so I can read and reblog your post 💜

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 1: Morning in the Tomb

Narrated by no one.

Narrator: With water dripping in the distance, the dark, cold stone chamber underground is a far cry from the burning desert above.

Narrator: Drip drop... Drip drop...

Narrator: The sound of water dripping is amplified and lost as it travels through the tiles.

Narrator: Interestingly enough, though, it seems to carry the beeps of an electronic device.

Narrator: The beeps come from the massive stone coffin in the chamber... out of which comes countless black cables and a pale hand.

Narrator: When the pale hand moves, the coffin's lid moves out of the way ever so quietly. Then, the lights in the chamber jump to life...

Narrator: A black-haired girl sits up from the coffin as she yawns.

Tess: Good morning!

Choose either "What are you doing sleeping in a stone coffin?" or "That's really scary!"

If "sleeping," ...

You: Holy, what are you doing sleeping in a stone coffin?

If "scary," ...

You: That's really scary. I thought it was some monster saying hi to me...

--

Tess: It's pretty awesome in here, and I just got a new pillow. It feels great. Do you want to give it a try?

You: I'll pass...

Narrator: As she stretches, she notices the game controller in her hand. She sits back comfortably into her pile of pillows and starts checking her phone.

Narrator: There are a gazillion apps on her phone, but it only takes her a second to spot a green one.

Narrator: It's an app where the player can grow their own plants, and the garden Tess keeps on that app is already a lush green.

Tess: Let's see what I'm going to plant today. White poplars seem nice... they grow pretty fast and can block out sandstorms for me.

Tess: But salt cedars have a nice shape to them, and their flowers are beautiful.

You: Do you like this game?

Tess: A whole forest grows when I'm sleeping. Doesn't that sound awesome?

Narrator: When Tess finishes planting trees and logs on to Moments under the name "MasterDiviner_Tess," her phone goes crazy with comments and notifications.

Narrator: "This is to redeem my vow for helping me pass my exam! You rock!", "My mom's health check results came back just fine, like what you told me."

Narrator: "Is this a scammer's account? I always get my fortune checked before I game. I've done it five times already, and I always ended up losing!"

Tess: This kid's got some guts. His ID is... Yeeso?

Tess: Win some, lose some, no? But... it should be 50/50, right? It's a different kind of lucky when you always fall on the wrong side.

You: Do a lot of people come to you for fortune-telling?

Tess: There has been a surge recently. Well, I should be specific and say, since what happened at Ninir a year ago.

Tess: It disturbed a long-standing peace and troubled a lot of people, which is why they came to me to seek help from fortune-telling.

Tess: But peace will return. The world has seen its fair share of disasters, and peace has never failed to return.

Narrator: The light from Tess' phone shines on all the game consoles in her coffin, and she has just about everything imaginable. The controller she was holding before she woke up is now buried deep within.

You: You can game in the coffin?

Tess: Apple has a wide Wi-Fi coverage in Wasteland, and it's so stable that you can even game when you're in this chamber.

Tess: The Internet is a good thing. You don't need to go out to be able to play all sorts of games and shop. The only catch is that people aren't willing to deliver what I buy.

Tess: The locals aren't fond of this modern stuff, though.

Tess: And there are priests from the other tribes who claimed that "Wi-Fi signals would interfere with their connection with the gods." It's anyone's guess what they based that on.

Tess: I don't agree with that, but from the standpoint of traditional and cultural inheritance, it's still important to keep ceremonies solemn.

Tess: Which is why I still brave the sandstorms and travel to the Quicksand Shrine, where I dance and pray and announce my fortune-telling results.

Tess: Speaking of fortune-telling, I just saw a beautiful sapphire light in my dream. The Rainbow Light was drawing the sapphire light towards it, though.

Tess: That's a good sign, but I can't let you in on the details just yet.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Rose Gold: Under The Wraps

Shades of Obsession Universe

Rose Gold Masterlist

****

The sudden rustling woke you up from your slumber. Half-awake, you forced your drooping eyes to open and your hazy sight caught Jin’s figure by the bathroom door.

“Oh, I’m so sorry sweetheart, did I wake you up?”

“Mhm, when did you return?”

“Just now, I was just washing my clothes.”

Rubbing your eyes, you realised that he was standing shirtless, only with his lounge trousers on. The bathroom light illuminated the otherwise dark room, and the contrast fist beautifully on your boyfriend’s perfect face.

“I thought you would not return all night.”  you mumbled, feeling tired, but also more conscious of your surroundings with each passing moment.

“It’s five in the morning. Just got back. Go to sleep, I will join you in a moment.”

You sighed before letting out a yawn. Even with your muddled mind, you remembered that you had so much to discuss with Jin.

“Jin, I wanted to talk about some things.”

“I know,” he paused for a sigh “We will talk over breakfast, okay? I have taken a day off. I will be with you all day, hmm? Sleep now, you need it.”

You nodded, feeling too groggy to discuss things anyway. And almost as soon as you fell back on the bed, you slept.

You woke up late, that too, when Jin had coaxed you out of your dream world. Not that you felt refreshed, because even in your dreams, you were being chased, and such nightmares left you more drained than replenished.

“How did you sleep?” Jin had his back on you as he plated the breakfast.

“Good, I feel better.” you plastered a smile for him.

Jin had been already stressing regarding the case as well as handling awkward paparazzi questions and working on the upcoming album, you did not want to burden him further.

Turning around, Jin’s smile faltered as he eyed you. “You slept well?”

“Eh-yes?” the uncertainty simply slipped in, Jin asking the same question again meant he did not buy your smiling face and words.

“Mhm.” he nodded “I made breakfast. Come.” he ushered you towards the dining table as he put the plate before pulling a chair for you.

“I had sent Aerin yesterday, with all your remaining luggage, nothing was missing, was sit? The appliances would have to be stored away I guess. Or you guys can rest the place- all furnished apartments are always on demand.” Jin continued.

“I just…I did not know of the other pictures, Jin. And if someone is stalking us, would it not make sense to live separately?”

“Live separately?” he let out a chuckle “So that it becomes easier for them to trace you? This place is more secured, you know that, Love, no one is allowed without permission and proper ID.”

“And us staying together would simply confirm the media that we indeed are in a relationship. They will try to bring you down Jin, the target is not me. It has never been me, you know that.”

“I willt ake care of it.” he reassured firmly.

“How? The pictures are breaking the internet- how will you—”

“Do you trust me?”

“Jin—”

“Please (y/n)...Do you trust me?”

You sat in a moment of silence, before nodding and reaching for Jin’s hand on the table.

“I do, I do trust you Jin.”

“So trust me to take care of it. I will make everything right. Just…Just don’t stop trusting me…Okay?”

You nodded, somehow feeling reassured at the new depth of confidence he exuded. 

—----

There was no discussion regarding moving out again. Jin had been right, it was only within two weeks that the matter was under wraps and you were free to travel to your office regularly, though initially, Jin had informed you that Hybe had arranged an incognito bodyguard for you. You did not protest much, the incident had left a scar in your mind after all.

As anticipated, there were no more threats, no disturbances. Within a few months, your life fell back into a peaceful pattern as if nothing had been disturbed ever. The only change being you sharing roof with your boyfriend.

 Taehyung kept updating you regarding the situation as it was a confidential issue and none but an insider would know Hybe's actions. He had let you know that Hybe had been able to trace the numbers and even sued the offenders, it had all been done within the span of a month or so and you were relieved that you were safe, at least until another article did not come up with leaked photos. 

Jin had invited you to another of his lavish personal apartment a couple of days after everything settled down, you had been barely able to catch even a glimpse of him due to his active participation in handling the matter, he had taken it on himself to see to it that the matter had been handled right.  Besides, BTS was also working on another comeback

So when he took you to his apartment for a pampering date night, you were elated. 

But dinner was not the only occasion when you were the object of his affections. You were so pleasantly surprised when you were taken to his bedroom- he had made the arrangements himself, rose gold satin sheets covered the bed, candles lit the room in a romantic, dim glow, while the subtle scent of roses filled in your senses, it was everything- sweet, romantic and sensual. 

And Jin made love to you on the satin sheets- and it was everything from sweet to sensual to satisfying. It was beautiful and when you both lay on the ruined sheets, slowly floating down from the euphoric feeling of making love, he had taken your left hand- told you how much he loved you and slipped the ring that promised his love and commitment to you in your previously empty ring finger.

.

.

.

Jin watched with his heart filled with adoration and moon in his eyes how you gasped at the gleaming ring on your finger- a perfect fit.

 "I love you Jagi, you were made for me- only me." he kissed your tears away before claiming your lips for the nth time.

He loved you and he knew you did not love him- not as deeply as he did  at least. But you were there- almost there and in no time, you would love him as much as he loved you- your happy tears conveyed so 

"Oh Jin, I-never, I do not deserve you."

 And perhaps you didn't, especially because how he had meddled with your mocha shake the night you came to his studio to return the bracelet.

You did not deserve him, especially after he had Hybe trace the journalist who had taken the picture and the person who had sent you the first threat message and later shared your number with other sick 'fans'. And of course, that bitch who dared to attack you.

You were in his arms, so blissfully unaware of how Namjoon and Taehyung had accompanied him in taking care of the bodies- all the people who dared to threaten and stalk you. 

And it all happened the same night Taehyung and he had sent Aerin to move the rest of your luggage to Jin's place.

You were too kind, he and his brothers were not.

 Hybe took care of the rest. 

The company always would, that was how everything had been covered up in the past when Taehyung had wrongly framed his girlfriend's admirer and had the unfortunate man sent to years of prison to rot away. 

They were, after all, family. They would always have each others' back. And Hybe took care of its artists very well. Your cousin did not need to be enlightened, and neither you- none of them deserved women like you and Aerin. But love was a sweet treasure and everybody deserved love after all.

Jin smiled at you with admiration.

He did not deserve you, but he had you anyway and you would always be his. 

"Oh Jagi, do not say that. You deserve a lot more. You deserve the world." he cooed at you and smiled, before capturing your lips once more.

You deserved all his love, admiration, devotion and obsession- you deserved a lot more.

**** End****

Finally, the final part of the series is here, I have decided that a grand epilogue would follow...After the end of all the series in this universe.

But I have a drabble prepared and I might just upload it later. Let me know what you all think.

Taglist: @illnevertrustmyselfagain@papijiminfeed@bangtanxcoffee@ratherbefangirling@nikkeeee @severephilosopherkid @mak7sstuff @era-genius @angryperfectionpersona @awhore42dcharacters @maliyachan

[twodimecastle]

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

[masterwords]

Hi Angela!! I loved the “id do it for you” and “look at that, you’re blushing,” that you wrote after my request, I just wanted to thank u sm because i loved it so MUCH AND I LOVE PEACHES SMMM. 

I was hoping you could do 3 “if you arent going to help yourself, i will,” and 4 “you look pale…” with Hotch being a stubborn bastard and refusing to do something for his convenience for the sake of bureaucracy or some stubborn useless reason - this could be sometime pre show (Haley won’t exist, I’m sorry) and Morgan would visibly see him wearing himself thin instead of taking it easy like the doctors said. 

With that being said, feel free disregard the paragraph above, as long as ur the one writing it I’ll eat it up at this point I just love everything u write sm 😭😭

-❤️‍🩹

OKAY, first of all? Thank you so much for all of your intensely kind words. I'm glad you liked that story! (And yeah, peaches are THE JAM. It was a love story for peaches, really.) And now for my groveling...I'm so sorry this took me so damn long to do. I wrote 3 different stories for this that just turned out like garbage, and I couldn't post them. And this has been sitting here so long, I feel awful. I hope that this story I finally landed on is good! (Probably not good enough for as long as I took to write it...did I say I'm sorry? I'm so sorry.)

2.8k words | Hotch/Morgan

**

“Your turn,” Hotch said, shifting the weight on his hip against the hard plastic chair. This is their second airport terminal in one day, and the layover just went from one hour to three. Outside the snow was just beginning to fall and he suspected they'd be put up in a nearby hotel for the night before long. The sky was painted an ominous blue gray and getting darker by the minute. Morgan sighed.

“I don't wanna play anymore. Nothing new to see. Know any other games?”

Hotch yawned and let his eyes drift shut. “I've heard napping is a fun game.” Morgan's laughter was subdued and tired, but he nodded in agreement. A nap did sound nice.

“Want me to keep watch? We can take turns.” Like they were two warriors on a quest, not two marooned FBI Agents in some podunk airport in the midwestern USA.

“Just give me fifteen minutes...” Hotch drawled and was asleep before Morgan even thought about replying. He'd been sort of off all day, Morgan thought, a few steps behind his usual snap. Probably just that they'd been on the road for two weeks now and every airport was starting to look the same, let alone every rented sedan with a trunk waiting for their bags and a long drive ahead of them. Sleeping in their own beds was beginning to sound like an actual luxury instead of just a desire.

Morgan read a book. Tried to, anyway. But his eyes were blurry and unfocused often enough that he wasn't getting much out of it, each time he turned the page he realized he'd only taken in about half of the words...if that. Hotch shifted on the row of chairs beside him and let out a soft snorting sound followed by a deep yawn but he never actually woke up. Morgan let him go longer than 15 minutes...he seemed like he needed it.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Morgan whispered well over an hour later, running his finger along the rim of Hotch's ear. He'd sort of lost himself in a daze watching the snow flurry outside of the windows, it was mesmerizing. Completely lost track of time and space. “We got ourselves a hotel voucher for the night. Let's go get some real shut eye, huh?”

It took them two days of delayed and canceled flights to make it to Idaho, where they would decide it was more worthwhile to rent an SUV and try to drive through the Pacific Northwest and its snowstorms than try to catch more flights between metro areas. They could drive through Washington and most of Oregon without trouble, stay in roadside motels, and be in California in a matter of days. A few dodgy mountain passes stood in their way, some road delays and scary slippery moments would make for good stories to tell Gideon when they returned but ultimately, it became a sort of adventure.

Until Hotch got sick in San Fransisco. Morgan noticed the first signs while they wandered along with all of the old folks on the cell block tour of Alcatraz. It was one of their very few days off, and of all things they could do during a two week trip across the country to conduct custodial interviews with talkative serial killers was tour a famous prison. Hotch rolled his eyes, but Morgan whined.

“You're only against it because you've already done it...” he lobbied, and Hotch had no argument after the obvious.

“Haven't we been inside enough prisons? This is the only day we have without a prison visit for the next six days...”

“One more won't hurt.” He said that in his best Sean Connery accent, and Hotch cringed at the attempt. Anyone who would humiliate themselves like that deserved a pass, so he bought them two tickets and they got on the ferry. That was when Morgan noticed him clearing his throat more than usual and massaging just beneath his jaw when he thought no one was looking.

Hotch cleared his throat as they stepped onto the island and winced at the sharp pain. “Did you want to see this place because of its value historically or because of the movie?” Morgan only smiled and shrugged. That was answer enough. Hotch didn't complain the rest of the day, he did his best to enjoy the tour through the look of bliss on Morgan's face.

In the hotel room that night, Morgan noticed Hotch behaving a little off. He'd thought about the airport terminal, and he'd bounced back from that after a good night's sleep. He was a little off while they were at Alcatraz but he couldn't have really said how off, he was a little distracted.

Still, he wasn't too bad, so they ordered room service with their combined per diem and fell asleep full and content after watching “The Rock”. Morgan was pleased as punch.

Hotch woke in the morning with a fever. He knew he was sick right away. His eyes felt crusty and wet, his skin hot and his throat had pinpricks like tiny bonfires that he knew would spread rapidly. He winced as he swallowed the lukewarm water on his nightstand.

“You look pale,” Morgan said, stepping out of the shower just after he'd managed to pull himself upright. It had taken far longer than he'd anticipated and came with a lightheaded feeling he didn't care for. Hotch frowned and searched his foggy head for an appropriate response. He was sluggish, though, and the delay was obvious to Morgan.

“I'm always pale.” He avoided the question, and Morgan couldn't help but respect his tenacity even if it was frustrating. He wasn't going to let him have it, though.

“Yeah, true, but more than usual...are you sick? Should I take you to Urgent Care? You gonna pass out on me or something?”

“No.”

It was colder than intended, and Derek read it loud and clear. He'd press again in a bit but Hotch was figuring it out for himself right now and he could respect that.

“I'm sorry,” Hotch muttered, resting his cheek against the cool wood of the headboard. “I don't know if I'm sick or just...”

“Worn out? Stressed? Yeah, this travel shit is rough. But you look pretty bad.”

In the end, he decided he didn't have time to be sick, so he allowed Morgan to talk him into the Urgent Care. Just a precaution, if it was something serious they could catch it right away, and if not...well at least they knew. They could medicate it with DayQuil or AlkaSeltzer or something and he'd just have to walk through it.

But it was never that simple.

He had strep throat. He wasn't willing to miss their custodial interview, though, so he spent the day preparing in the hotel room while Morgan explored the city with what little free time they had. Hotch reasoned that Morgan should spend as little time with him in close quarters as possible so long as he wasn't showing symptoms and while that sounded absolutely absurd, he knew better than to argue with Hotch when he was sick. He was more like a porcupine than a puppy. When they showed up for the interview, Hotch could barely talk but he was still unwilling to let Morgan do it alone.

“Stay in the car.”

“No.” Hotch's voice barely worked but that word came out loud and clear.

“You think I can't talk to an inmate?”

“No,” Hotch whispered this time, even though he'd been told not to. No whispering, talk at full volume or not at all. Whispering felt better and he never had been good at following directions. “You're good at interrogation but this isn't an interrogation...we have to gain their trust and make them want to talk. They're not confessing, they've been sentenced, they're giving us a gift.”

“A gift!” Morgan scoffed but Hotch narrowed his eyes and nodded.

“A gift. They don't have to talk to us. They're essentially teaching us how to catch them...”

They left their credentials and their firearms with the guard and walked in, Hotch letting Morgan lead the way. This was technically his interview today, Hotch's intention had been to take the backseat and just observe. Like a trial run, one of many. He couldn't count how many of these he gave with Gideon or Rossi sitting behind him watching his every move. He'd been so nervous at first, but once he got over that on-stage feeling it became natural.

Except he was on enough cold meds to kill a horse just to stay upright and it didn't help. He was nearly asleep sitting up.

“Am I boring you, Agent?” Hopper, the inmate, asked with a sneer. Morgan glanced at Hotch who jerked himself upright quickly and glared at the man in the prison blues. His arms were folded over his chest, eyes blinking slowly while he gathered his senses. Where he was, what he was doing, who he was talking to. His eyes flickered briefly, catching the tape recorder, and then Morgan's stunned features before he turned rather lackadaisically to Hopper. His sleepy eyes never changed.

“Yes,” he replied finally in his weak television static voice and Morgan couldn't help a little smile. “You're not a very compelling story teller and you're wasting our time.”

“Come a little closer and I'll show you how I tell stories...” Hopper growled, his meaty paws forming fists inside the cuffs on the table. Hotch didn't even flinch.

Instead, he stood, indicating for Morgan to do the same. “He's been lying to us for a half hour. I don't like having my time wasted. I don't feel very good and I'd rather be in bed.”

Hopper, the sudden realization of what he would lose if those two agents walked out the door, looked like he was choking on his tongue while he formulated a response.

Hotch continued in his flimsy painful whisper. “Whatever deal was made with you in return for the information you were willing to share is now void.”

“No, no wait! I'll tell you the truth! I swear!”

Hotch waved Morgan through the door now held open by a guard. Morgan couldn't believe Hotch ended the interview so abruptly, couldn't believe he'd picked up the guy lying even while he was sitting there with his eyes closed. Morgan had looked, thought Hotch really was asleep but he wasn't going to say anything. It all sounded so close to the file they had, so close to the trial transcripts he wasn't even sure where the lies were until later when he listened to the tape and made a comparison. The differences were stunning in their simplicity, and he wasn't sure if Hopper was lying on purpose or if he truly couldn't remember.

“How'd you know?”

Hotch shrugged, leaning his seat back in the car. He looked drained. Utterly miserable. “You get a sense for them after a while. Just like profiling a crime scene.” He couldn't explain it, except to say that it was why Morgan needed training time. It wasn't asking the questions, it was reading the answers. There were subtleties to these people, the way their minds worked.

“They lie a lot?” Morgan hadn't really given much thought to the motives of someone already in prison for life. Especially these guys who had already confessed to their crimes,they had no innocence to protect, they were just talking. Telling stories, like they were having biographies put in print. Hotch cleared his throat and frowned.

“Often. Depends on the deal they work out with the FBI to get us out there. Sometimes they just can't help themselves, the idea of having some kind of power over us is too enticing..” Hotch paused, letting out a wheezy cough into his elbow. “They like to feed us a line and see if we take it. If they can get us to publish their lies.”

“Fuck.”

Their schedule was packed, one after another. Each day was a presentation with a police station or two, followed by a custodial interview. Driving down the 101, motel sleeping, Hotch medicating himself beyond any reasonable amount just to stay upright and focused. It was really no wonder the travel had caught up to one of them.

“Let me do this one on my own,” Morgan said, sitting on the edge of the bed and yawning. It was only 3am, they still had hours before their wake up call, but it was time for another antibiotic dose and Hotch's fever wasn't showing any signs of improvement. That wasn't surprising since he hadn't rested one single time since finding out he had strep throat. It was almost like he was trying to outrun it. Out work it. Morgan handed him the pills, an antibiotic and two NyQuil with a glass of water.

“Derek,” he whined, glaring at the bright green medication even in the dark of the room. “I just want the Tylenol.”

“You're coughing instead of sleeping, man. Just take it. Otherwise we're both fucked tomorrow.”

Hotch considered it earnestly and finally let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. You'd better wake me up on time.”

“I can do it on my own, you should sleep. You're no good to us like this.”

“Wake me up.” He took the meds knowing that the NyQuil was going to knock him out and trusting that Morgan would wake him anyway. He might be a little tired during the interview but he'd be there, Morgan didn't need much more than that.

To no one's surprise, Hotch slept through the alarm and Morgan didn't bother to try and wake him. He finally looked peaceful and he wasn't going to bother him.

When Morgan returned triumphantly from the custodial, he found Hotch sitting upright on his bed looking furious. Pale, feverish, furious. Morgan thought he was pretty cute when he was sick and mad, with his sweaty hair matted to his forehead and the fever flush in his cheeks. Beside him, he had his phone, a bottle of water and a box of tissue.

“You said you'd wake me.”

“No, I never said I would.”

“We are a team, Derek. You don't have enough experience to do these interviews on your own, you're supposed to be training. Jason is going to have my head when he finds out you went in alone.”

“Man, you've been sick for three days. I've been doing them on my own the whole damn time. You practically slept through the one yesterday. That guy was pissed. If he hadn't been lying...Aaron, you got lucky.”

Hotch didn't have anything to say to that. It was true.

“If you won't help yourself, I will. That's all. I didn't mean to piss you off but you looked so damn miserable I just wanted you to sleep.”

Hotch had a litany of arguments he'd been muddling through about them being a team, but the look on Morgan's face was so apologetic that he couldn't. So he sulked instead. Just pulled out the big, pathetic watery eyes and Morgan almost fell into the bed with him to make that face go away. With some hot soup and the rest of the night listening to Morgan's interview (which, of course, was great) and watching movies, Morgan got his one wish. For Hotch to rest.

On their way to another custodial down the coast, Hotch wasn't feeling great but he was doing better. The fever had broken sometime over night, finally, and now he was left with a few days more of antibiotics and his throat on fire. Halfway to their destination, his pager went off. It was Gideon.

Morgan found a little diner and pulled over so Hotch could jump out and use the pay phone. They had a cell phone but they had no service out there overlooking the ocean on the highway.

“Jason, it's Hotch,” he said, forcing as much of his voice through his strained and painful vocal chords as he could muster. He would pay for it later.

“We have a bomber,” Gideon says gravely, taking no notice of Hotch's wobbly voice. “Get on the next plane to Boston. I need you both there immediately.”

Hotch returned to the vehicle with a shadow over his features, all the wind had been taken from his sails. Morgan leaned toward him, his arms folded over his chest and his hips resting against the hot hood of the SUV expectantly.

“What did mom say?”

“Looks like we're gonna have to stand up Bailey and Arlington, Gideon needs us in Boston.”

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Life Without Colour (PART FIVE)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Note: ignore that i don’t even question bucky being able to get through security at the airport, i couldn’t think of how he would be able to get through the airport security bc of his metal arm so i’ve skipped that detail completely. i hope it doesn’t detract from the story! 

this is nearly 6000 words!

Taglist:  @domainoflostsouls​  forgetthisbull  handon-h-art  yourspecialcrush  giulsgotmusic  mrsbarnes-rogers  luosymekawa  linzeyzarcone  forgetthisbull   calamityreads  talgra   marina-darling  btsforlif  lamoursansfin  classic1985  lovesicksofi  fandomsfallnomore  thebivirgin  classygladiatorcupcake

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours. You had long since stopped trying to figure out what state you were in and where you were headed. Bucky had been driving non-stop aside from two bathroom breaks at a small gas station in the middle of nowhere. You had stopped crying a long time ago, too drained and too tired to continue. You felt horrendous. You hated this, you absolutely hated this but you had no choice in the matter. The car had been silent for the whole way aside from the quiet chatter on the radio. Bucky hadn’t wanted to speak in fear of upsetting you further. He had been driving you out of state to go to an airport that would be a little harder to find. It had been Fury’s idea, to go to an airport that Hydra wouldn’t look for straight away. It gave you a little more time to get away without being watched.

You took a break from watching the blur of trees and roads to glance at the clock on the dashboard; 13:42. You hadn’t eaten yet, barely had anything to drink either and you knew that you weren’t far away from a dehydration migraine. As if on cue, your stomach rumbled loudly. Bucky, without speaking, reached behind his car seat and produced a rucksack and dumped it on your lap with a, “Here. There’s water and some snacks in there. We’ll get a proper meal when we’re at the airport.”

You dug through the bag, producing two bottles of water. You opened one and offered it to Bucky, he accepted with a nod, draining half before handing it back to you. You offered him a muffin but he shook his head. You dropped the bag to between your feet and began to have your water and muffin. It helped curb the hunger, at least for a while, and you felt a lot better once you had something in your stomach. After a while, you sank back into your seat with a yawn.

Bucky glanced over at you, “We’ve still got a few hours to drive, you can sleep if you want.” You looked at him and he gave you a small smile, “It’s okay. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

You thanked him quietly before closing your eyes. It didn’t take long before you fell asleep and your soft snores filled the car. Bucky looked at you for a couple of seconds, smiling to himself. Man, it’s gonna be a long few weeks.

It only felt like you’d closed your eyes for a few minutes when Bucky was saying your name, gently shaking your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to meet his blue eyes and it almost gave you a fright seeing them. Sometimes it still surprised you to see colour and especially when Bucky was around... colour seemed to be brighter and those deeper blue eyes seemed so bright in person.

“We’re here,” he said, pulling back quickly, not wanting to upset you by being too close. Bucky was very careful of boundaries, he always had been but especially after the Winter Soldier incidents. He knew what it felt like to not want to be touched or have your personal space invaded so he was always careful to not overstep.

“You’ve got the fake passports and stuff, don’t you?” You asked him, yawning and stretching in your seat.

He nodded and told you that they’re in his bag. In order to help the process of becoming anonymous, Fury had fake IDs and fake passports made for the two of you. They’d even gone so far as to create two new backstories for the pair of you just in case anyone ever questioned the pair of you. You and Bucky got out of the car, your legs ached from having sat in the car for hours upon hours. It was dark outside now, you didn’t know the time. Bucky grabbed the bags out of the car and handed you the two passports to hold. As you walked into the airport, you flicked to it. Miss Jane Smith and Mr John Smith. Two very common and obvious fake names but you hoped that it wouldn’t be picked up.

The check in process was much easier than you anticipated, the passports passed the ID checks and soon, the two of you were through security and heading for the food outlet. Bucky had told you to keep your head down for most of the time and to avoid direct eye contact with cameras. The airport was relatively quiet which was good in the sense you didn’t have to worry about people around you noticing Bucky. Bucky led you to a small café which was quiet and the two of you sat at the back. Everything was kind of passing in a blur and it only seemed like a few seconds until Bucky was back with your food.

You began to eat in silence and it was then you realised where you were going, “Estonia?” You asked quietly, making sure to not be overhead.

Bucky nodded as he took a bite of his burger, “Managed to find a secluded house, already furnished. The owner agreed to let us stay for a discounted price as well.”

“I’ve never been,” you shrugged, taking a bite of your food, “Where are we right now?”

“Pittsburg,” he said, glancing around the café to make sure no one was taking notice of the pair of you, “Steve thought it would be a good idea to leave from an airport a few hours away from New York. Hydra and Rumlow would check New York airports first once they realise you’re out of town.”

You smiled sadly as you looked down to your food. Leave it to Steve to think of everything. Bucky told you that the flight would be leaving in an hour and it would be a long ass flight but it was okay because you were exhausted and you could absolutely sleep for a good portion of the flight anyway.  

You sighed, “When can I take this stupid disguise off? I’m so uncomfortable!”

Bucky studied you carefully, “When we’re in the safe house.”

“Do I look stupid? I feel stupid.”

“You look... different. Not bad just different,” he paused before speaking again, “I prefer you as you are though, without the wig, contacts and flashy clothes. I think you look much better when you’re being yourself.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than a nod. It felt foreign and wrong to receive a compliment from him, even though it was a genuine, friendly compliment, it felt wrong. The two of you didn’t say much after that.

After eating, you and Bucky went to get some plane snacks. You grabbed some water and some treats, you also wandered to the book section and picked up a book. As you were walking to the books, you saw a little boy and girl pass wearing matching Captain America t-shirts. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched them pass. It seemed to hit you in that moment that this was real and this was truly happening.

“(y/n)?” Bucky asked appearing behind you.

You turned to him, “Sorry... I just can’t believe this is happening.” 

Bucky nodded before gesturing to the check out, “Let’s get this all checked out and then hopefully we’ll be able to go to our departure gate.” He didn’t really know how to help you without overstepping or potentially upsetting you. He didn’t want you to get upset in public so he thought that he could keep you distracted and that would help ease your worries. It helped, having him there to guide you and distract you from possible sad thoughts helped a lot actually.

You found your airplane seats quick, the two of you were bang smack in the middle and you were both in a two seater section. Bucky let you go in first, saying that he preferred not to look out of the window when taking a flight. You sunk into it, keeping your head down and wrapping your arms around yourself to get warmer. As Bucky sat beside you, tapping his foot and his hand on the armrest impatiently, you looked at him curiously, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “Just... not a big fan of flying.”

You pulled out the magazines which were in the pocket of the chair in front of you and handed him them, “I find that reading the safety procedures always helps. Also reading the magazine where you can just check out the meal deals and the perfume deals help a bit.”

Bucky took them off of you and began to flick through them. In the meantime, you closed your eyes. As the plane began to move, Bucky tensed beside you and you opened your eyes to look at him, his hands were clenched around the arms of the chair, jaw clenched too.

“Hey, show me that,” you said, sitting up straighter and pointing to the magazine. He looked at you and then handed it to you. Bucky had been helping you out by distracting you from being sad, the least you could do is distract him from being anxious. You leaned over, probably a little closer than you would’ve felt comfortable with in normal circumstances. Bucky stiffened as he smelled your perfume when you came closer. You took no notice of the closeness.

“Look at that!” You said, pointing to the menu that they were offering that night on the flight, “What would you have?” Bucky shrugged and you rolled your eyes, “C’mon. I’d have the chicken curry and the cheese and ham panini and then I would absolutely have the tiramisu afterwards. What about you?” You held it closer to him for him to study.

“Uh... I mean, I suppose the lasagne sounds nice. The breaded mushrooms too, I like those. Never had tiramisu but it sounds nice enough so I’d give that a go too.”

“No way,” you said shaking your head, “I would order the tiramisu and you would order the chocolate and raspberry mousse and we’d share them both.”

Bucky snorted slightly, “Sure thing, whatever you want.”

You flicked through more of the pages, “Ooooh,” you said noticing the deals on the perfumes, “I love airplane and airport deals. I only ever buy my perfume from duty free, honestly. No point in buying it full price anywhere else.”

“I still find it crazy that there’s a shop on an airplane.”

You nodded, “I mean, it’s pretty weird but I’m not complaining about the deals. Some of the stuff you can buy is so bizarre though. I was on this flight once, going on holiday with my family when I was younger, and they were selling t-shirts with a picture of the airplane we were in on them saying ‘I rode in this plane and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’.”

“That sounds like it’s a total dad shirt,” Bucky laughed slightly. He looked a lot younger when he smiled. He was always so stony and serious but when he smiled or laughed, it knocked years off him. He was already a handsome man but when he smiled, he was just... wow.

You burst out laughing as he said it, “My dad did buy it and he wore it so proudly!”

Bucky laughed with you, finding his nerves easing up as he spoke to you. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to you about anything other than the fact you were soulmates so it felt rather nice to talk to you on another level. It was still prettty strange but it was nice. Steve always told him that you were easy to get along with so he wasn’t too surprised. As you continued to chat, you gasped audibly when you came to the ‘collectibles and merchandise’ page, “There it is!” 

“No way!” Bucky grinned as he looked down at the picture of the t-shirt exactly like the one you described, “Oh, god, it’s hideous.” The two of you lapsed into laughter again, talking and looking at it before Bucky happened to glance out of the window, “We’re in the air?”

You looked out, “Yeah, we took off about fifteen minutes ago actually.” Bucky breathed out an impressed laughter, “My distraction technique always works. Keep the mind occupied on something else like the ugliest t-shirts in the world.”

Bucky smiled, “Thank you and thanks to the ugliest t-shirt ever-” it was then that a man wearing the exact t-shirt you had been slating got up from the seat in front of you and shot you a dirty look as he walked past, “Oh, shit.” It was hard to keep your laughter in but somehow you both managed it.

As you calmed down, Bucky sighed, “No, really, thank you for that.”

You smiled as you handed him the magazines back and sunk back into your seat, “And now, I sleep.”

When you woke up a few hours later, you found yourself to be sitting alone with no Bucky Barnes in sight. You looked up to see a flight attendant coming down the aisle, “Excuse me,” you said with a smile, “do you know where the man sitting next to me went?”

She smiled, the same warm smile that every flight attendant has, “Yes, your husband is in the queue for the toilet, he should be back in a few minutes.”

You nodded, she went to leave when you caught her again, “Sorry, can you do me a favour?”

When Bucky came back, he was pleasantly surprised to see you sitting awake, smiling at him, “Good sleep?” You nodded,  “Don’t worry, you didn’t snore... too loud.” 

Your cheeks burned as he teased you, “Shove it, Barnes,” you scoffed, “I bought us a present.”

He frowned, “A present?”

You grinned as you held up two t-shirts, the exact same one that you both said was the ugliest shirt in the world, “No way!” He laughed, clapping his gloved hands together, “Oh my god, they’re worse in person.”

You laughed as you handed him his, “You’re so welcome. I will make us wear these at some point by the way, don’t think you’re getting out of it.” You’d never seen Bucky smile so wide with pure joy radiating from him. It was nice to see; it made you feel a lot better about the situation that was happening. You and Bucky hadn’t broached the subject of being the other’s soulmates, you actually really didn’t want to have that conversation anytime soon, but it was nice to know that at least you got on a little bit.

The fact that the pair of you were laughing so soon felt wrong. It felt like you were betraying Steve for merely getting along but it was nice. You were scared of what was going to happen and Bucky had been anxious about flying so the pair of you had nothing to do but talk to each other. Sure, it wasn’t a particularly interesting conversation but it was something. It was still a little awkward and a little weird at times but you could look past that for a few minutes to just appreciate the fact that Bucky was doing this.

Soon, you were curled back into your plane seat, your own jacket draped across you, “Thanks,” you said quietly as sleep began to take over,  “for doing this for Steve. I know that it’s not ideal and I know you probably don’t want to be stuck with me for weeks. I appreciate it, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded and didn’t say anything. I’m not doing it for only Steve, I’m doing it for you too. He watched you for a moment longer before closing his own eyes and resting into his own seat.

The rest of the flight went by in a blur, you slept some more, read your book and ate some food. It wasn’t long before it was time to land and Bucky could not have been more happy than in the moment the wheels of the plane landed on the runway. The airport was a relatively quiet which meant that security and getting your bags was a lot faster than anticipated.

Soon, you were waiting with Bucky in line to get a rental car. To your surprise, when it was your turn to speak to the receptionist, Bucky slid a wad of cash over the counter, “I want a car to keep and I want it off book.”

The receptionist, who was a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, eyed Bucky with narrow eyes and Bucky stared right back at him. You glanced between the two men wondering who would give up the staring contest first. After a pregnant pause, the receptionist shrugged and dug around in the drawer next to him before pulling out a car key, “Grey sedan in Lot C, registration plate ends with RUS. It’s old and a little worse for wear but for this price, best I can do.” He glanced from left to right before sliding the keys across the table. Apparently he seemed to accept the bribe. You raised your eyebrows, looking between the man and Bucky.

Bucky thanked him with a nod before taking the keys and picked up his and one of your bags before walking away with you in tow, “Wait,” you said quietly, rushing to keep up with him, “You just bought a car?!”

Bucky nodded, “We needed a car. This one will do for a while, keeps us off of the radar for a while.”

Finding the car was easy, the hard part was trying to keep up with Bucky. He took long, quick strides that were hard to keep up with. The car was parked alone in Lot C. It was a little old, with some dents and scratches in the doors from previous bumps and accidents and some of the paint had chipped but aside from that, it seemed to be fine. Bucky loaded the bags in the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat. You settled into your seat and Bucky said that it would be a forty minute drive but could do it in half the time if the road’s were quiet. Then, you both set off.

You couldn’t stop staring out of the window, looking at every single detail of Estonia. It seemed like a dream that you’d be waking up from any second now. Your hands fidgeted with your jacket sleeves as you stared out to the vast unknown. What would become of you and your relationship, you had no idea. You didn’t know what was going to happen and you had absolutely no clue where you would be going. A wave of uneasiness crashed over you as you tried to swallow down the nausea. 

The drive seemed to simultaneously be the longest and shortest drive ever. Seconds felt like years and minutes felt like nanoseconds. You just wanted things to go back to how they were two months ago when things were easy and simple and life was without colour. You glanced over at Bucky, wishing that it had been anyone besides him that was your soulmate. Bucky was a decent enough guy from the short time you’d been with him, I mean, he was willing to take you to a safe house for god knows how long after meeting each other less than three times so obviously he was a good guy but... even if you and Bucky ended up friends, ended up falling in love... nothing could ever happen. You just couldn’t do that to Steve. 

Oh, Steve. 

You wondered what he would be doing just now. He would probably be in the gym with Sam, boxing his feelings and emotions about the whole situation out. That’s what he usually did when things were tense or when he was stressed, he would go to the gym and work out for hours. Sam would usually go with him, being his comic relief to make things less stressful for him. You had never been so thankful for Sam Wilson than in that moment of realisation. You had been so focused on what this meant for you and how this would affect you that you’d practically overlooked your boyfriend’s feelings.

Steve would be blaming your kidnapping on himself, even though it wasn’t his fault that Hydra were dickheads. He would be devastated that he’d had to send you off with your soulmate, knowing fine well that you could easily come back home in love with Bucky. It had been so hard for Steve to make that decision but it had to be done. He wished that he could’ve came with you but it was his mess to clean up and he couldn’t just let his friends do it. He wasn’t that selfish even though he wished he could have been. Steve would rely on Sam pretty heavily over the coming weeks. Sam had been such a good friend to Steve in the few years they’d known each other. Sam understood Steve, they shared the same values and same morals and that was something you liked about Sam. Sam wasn’t afraid to stand up and fight for what was right. You knew that Steve would be in good hands with Sam at his side.

Little did you know, Bucky was thinking of Steve Rogers too as he drove. It was surreal that he was driving with you, through Estonia, to a safe house where you’d be for weeks, potentially months. It scared Bucky, honestly. He liked you, not in a romantic way (yet), but he had heard all about you from Steve. All of those months that Bucky was in Wakanda, Steve called every week to check on him. Every week, Steve would talk about you. He remembered the things he would say about you. ‘She’s great, Buck. She’s got this smile, this really wide smile that I’ve only seen a handful of people have in my life. You know the one I mean. That genuinely happy, makes you smile when you see it smile.’, ‘You gotta meet her, Bucky. She’s everything I’ve been looking for and even though we’re not soulmates, we are.’, ‘It’s crazy. After Peggy, I never thought I’d fall in love again but (y/n) came into my life when I needed her most. Every day, I wake up thankful for her. My god, you have to meet her. You two will get on so well. She keeps my on my toes and is hilarious.’

Bucky glanced at you, a familiar pang of guilt shooting through him. You were his best friend’s girl and he could never do anything to pursue you because he cared about Steve too much. Steve was the one person who had given him a chance and had stuck by him through everything. Steve deserved you, Bucky didn’t.

It wasn’t long before Bucky pulled into a driveway. You looked around, realising that you were deep in the woods. It was an off road cabin that seemed to be pretty far from civilisation, “This is it.” Bucky cut the engine before getting out of the car. You stayed put, staring at the cabin in front of you. From the outside, it looked a little run down but very liveable. It was made with a dark oak wood which blended in well with the trees. Passers by would have to do a double take at first because of how well it blended in.

You got out of the car, grabbing the rucksack that had been by your feet. Bucky appeared beside you, carrying all of his and your bags, “Ready?”

You didn’t look at him, eyes stuck on the cabin in front of you. This was it. This was your future. You were unusually terrified as you stared at it. As soon as you stepped into that cabin, your future would change forever. Everything would change. Life as you knew it with Steve would completely change as soon as you walked into that cabin. With your heart beating fast, you took a breath and nodded, following him up the stony path and to the front door. He unlocked it and swung the door open before disappearing inside. You hesitated at the front door, staring at the line on the floor to mark the cabin’s entrance.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered before stepping into the cabin and closing the door behind you.

The cabin had an old musty smell to it, the smell of emptiness. Clearly, no one had lived here for a long time. The décor was simple and pretty outdated but it was nice. Bucky had flicked the lights on throughout the cabin and was checking each room just to double check. You wandered through each room. The living room was simple with a couple of recliners and a small couch with a small TV on an old coffee table. You’d be surprised if the TV still worked with a thick layer of dust coating it. There was a large fireplace in the middle of the side wall which would be nice on a cold night. The kitchen was nice with everything that the pair of you would need to get started in the wooden cupboards and on shelves. It had a small table in the corner of the room, looking out of the window. Bucky told you that tomorrow, he would go get some shopping and food supplies until then you had the water and a few more snacks.

Next, you ventured into the bedrooms. Yours and Bucky’s separate bedrooms were adjacent to each other. Bucky had dropped his bags in the slightly smaller room. You went to object but the look on his face told you not to even bother. Bucky’s room was smaller yet still spacious enough for a double bed and a wardrobe. Your room was pretty much the same though as well as a wardrobe you had the chest of drawers as well. The shared bathroom was beside your room and it was... well, it was just an outdated bathroom. And that was it.

The cabin wasn’t particularly big or luxurious but it was much than you had expected. You seriously were expecting to sleep on the floor on a bug infested hotel but Bucky had done pretty good. You’d long since abandoned your disguise, feeling much better when looking like yourself. As you wandered around again, checking cupboards, finding extra duvets and pillows in the wardrobe in your room, you remembered something important. You dug around in your bags until you found it; a picture frame. Bucky knocked on your bedroom door. You turned to him, “You don’t need to knock,” you said.

“Come so I can show you something.”

You followed him into the living room as you held the picture frame in your hands. He stopped in front of a painting on the wall moving the painting to reveal a safe, “Oh, wow,” you said surprised.

“I got this safe installed and I’m putting this gun inside it, okay?” He told you, taking a gun from his back pocket. You jumped slightly, not expecting him to wield a weapon in front of you, “This is for emergencies, got it? I’ll teach you how to use it but for now, I’m locking it up in here, okay?”

“I don’t want to use a gun-”

“Neither do I,” Bucky said, cutting over you, “but I have to at least show you how to use it just in case, okay? The code is 0407-”

“Steve’s birthday.”

Bucky faltered before nodding and continuing, “Yeah, Steve’s birthday. Type that in,” he typed it in, “and it’ll unlock.” He dropped the gun inside of it before closing it over, “Re-type the code and it locks. Got it?”

You nodded.

“I always have at least one weapon on me at all times, okay? I have my gun and I have my knife. I’m only putting this here and showing you just in case, okay? We’ll probably never have to use it but it’s just in case something happens, just so I know that if I can’t get to you, you can have some way to protect yourself.”

Again, you nodded. Bucky eyed you carefully, making sure that you were okay with this. You didn’t really know how to feel about it. You weren’t surprised that he had weapons but it scared you the thought of you having to use them. Hopefully it would never come to that though. He could see the toll this was taking on you and you’d barely been gone a day. He was about to ask what you had in your hands when you wandered over to the fireplace and put the photo atop. It was a photo that you had once upon a time hated. It was you and Steve laughing as you posed for a picture in front of your Christmas tree. Nat had taken it on Christmas Eve. You wore a dress that hugged your curves a little too tightly for your liking but Steve had loved to see you in that dress. He always said the colour complimented your complexion so well and now that you could actually see colour, you could see where he was coming from. You loved that picture now, you remembered the night fondly where he twirled you around, telling you how beautiful you were every other minute. So yeah, you could see your protruding stomach and your bigger arms but you loved it. You smiled as you looked at Steve’s smile, heart soaring as you looked at him. Steve could make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. With him, you truly believed it. Your weight never defined your worth, you defined it.

Almost instantly, Bucky lunged for it, grabbing it and almost tumbling into you,  “What the fuck?!” You hissed, leaping backwards. You hadn’t expected the dark haired super soldier to lunge from across the room, almost knocking you off of your feet to grab the picture frame down.

Bucky released a sharp breath, “The window,” he said gruffly. He pulled the curtains shut quickly, “We can’t put any photos up.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

He rolled his eyes, Steve had warned him that you could be stubborn, “In case we’re being watched. If someone’s tailing us, they might look through the window and have our identities confirmed if we put photos up.”

You rolled your eyes, “If someone’s tailing us then I’m pretty sure that they know our identities already. Give me it back.”

“Fine but you’re not putting it there,” Bucky said.

You glared at him as a bubble of anger boiled in your stomach, “My god, how am I meant to stay here with you for weeks if you’re such an arse over a photo?!”

“Yeah?” Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t have to come here, (y/n). I came because Steve asked. I came for you.”

You were breathing heavy as you glared at each other, “Yeah well maybe I don’t want you here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be here!”

“Keep the stupid picture.” You turned on your heel and stormed into your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. You knew that you weren’t angry at Bucky, you knew that the two of you were tired and hungry. You knew that you were a flurry of emotions from having your life flipped upside down. You knew that Bucky was looking out for your safety but you were pissed and he was the only person near you so he would have to deal with it. 

Bucky sighed heavily as he fell onto the couch, pursing his lips and pinching the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Steve, she’s fucking brilliant. 

It was hours later when you rolled over with a huff. Sleep wasn’t coming easily. You were still too pissed off and because you were still so pissed off, you were only getting more annoyed. You knew that if the anger faded, you’d probably end up crying and you didn’t know which was worse so you just stayed angry. You wished that Bucky would’ve just been able to talk to you normally instead of treating you like a child. You would’ve absolutely understood the picture fiasco had he not leapt over the table and yanked it like a dog stealing someone’s dinner from the table. 

You sat up in bed. Usually, if you couldn’t sleep you’d watch TV or go on your phone but you didn’t feel up for watching the tiny TV in the living room and you obviously didn’t have a phone so you couldn’t do much than think. You’d need to see if there was a cheap CD player and CDs in town so that you could at least have some background noise. The cabin was eerily quiet at night. It was a different surrounding in a different country and everything just felt a little uneasy. You were used to New York where the hustle and bustle was part of every day life but the woods was so quiet aside from the rustling trees... it would take some getting used to.

With a huff, you grabbed your dressing gown from the bag on the floor and made your way into the kitchen. You grabbed a glass and filled it with water before taking a long drink. You didn’t know why you wandered into the living room but you found yourself venturing in and it was then you noticed, in the dim light from the moon, you saw a note and the picture of you and Steve that sat on the coffee table in front of the TV. You picked up the note.

I’m sorry about freaking out over the picture, it’s been a long day. Steve warned me you were stubborn but I wasn’t prepared, I guess. Let’s not put it on the fire place until we’re absolutely sure that no one’s tracking us. Until then, it can go here where it’s not facing a window. Hope that’s okay. It is a lovely picture of you and Steve... Again, sorry. - Bucky

You smiled slightly as you read it before slipping the note into your dressing gown pocket and going back to bed. So Bucky Barnes was decent after all.

[peachys-archived-posts]

Spooked

Summary: Injured, Jigen makes his escape to the readers apartment, little does the reader know, she's in for a scare.

Warning: Blood, gunshot wound, mentioned death, slight angst?

My AO3

One of your later nights, watching the news for any sign of your thieving gunman and his crew. Jigen could protect himself nonetheless, but you were still worried, with a world of possibilities out there, anything could have happened.

Your phone lights up on the cushion beside you, the caller ID on the screen making your heart stutter. Fumbling the phone at first, you steady your hand and pick up.

"I'm on my way, I'll be there shortly." Jigen's gruff voice barks at you. "Jigen, wait-"

The phone beeps in your ear, indicating that the call has ended. letting out a frustrated sigh, you drop your phone back down on the cushion.

Jigen would most likely be coming in with some sort of injury, saying that he's hurt. Jigen always did that. Standing, you collected all of the tools you may need and promptly plopped down on the futon. Anxiously your knee bounced, a number of things might have happened, you preferred not think about it though.

Snapped out of your daze, sirens wailed past, the screeching of tires braking hard on pavement moving you to throw open your window and peer out. Your heart thumped lowly in your ears, eyes searching for your boyfriend's hat among the sidewalk, stomach beginning to churn only moments before a door opened behind you.

"Jigen," you addressed him, closing the window and turning your attention to the lanky gunman, who stumbled towards your couch.

"Good to see you too," Jigen groaned. Sitting down finally, he takes his jacket off in the process. You grab it from his hands, resting it on the table beside your medical supplies.

"What happened?" You asked as you leaned down on your knees before him.

Jigen began to unbutton his shirt, the bright red against the baby blue fabric making you grimace.

"Bullet wound. I didn't move in time." Jigen answered bluntly. He laid his head back, mouth agape trying to catch his breath still.

"I'm getting too old for this." He mused. Looking up at him unamused, you spoke. "You're not even in your thirties."

Jigen didn't speak from there, allowing you to work as quickly as you could. You were all but okay during that time, the amount of blood that had to be cleaned up was almost sickening. It worried you that he was losing so much, it might cause him to be put in the hospital. As much as Jigen would have liked to say that he was okay, he knew he was far from, he would only be lying then. Having already lost so much blood, he was beginning to feel dizzy, his breathing becoming rapid.

"Jigen? Are you okay?" Your hand firmly shook his shoulder, snapping him from his daze. Surely he would have passed out if not for you, he didn't want to scare you anyways.

"I'll be fine." Jigen waved off your concern. Laying his head back once more, closing his eyes.

You watched him wearily, looking up as often as your steady working hands would allow, Jigen looked as though he had seen a ghost. He was so pale. You finally finished with everything, so focused on just getting his wound treated, that you never noticed him drift off to sleep. At first you nudged him lightly, calling his name with no response. You waited, allowing enough time for him to have responded.

"Jigen." You said sternly, nudging his shoulder. You waited again, your heart beginning to beat lowly in your ears. The thought of him having died in that time without you noticing, scared you to death. Grabbing his shoulders rather roughly, you shook him.

"Daisuke!" You yelled.

Jigen awoke with a start, his hat falling off, and his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. His eyes scanned the room before they landed on you, your eyes wide and just beginning to water. Confused, Jigen reached forward, grasping your hands and holding them gently.

"What's wrong?" He asked

You sat beside him, removing your hands from his, wiping the tears from your face. Reaching out, you slapped the gunman on the chest, the fear from before now turning into mild anger.

"What was that for?" Jigen whined. You crossed your arms.

"Asshole. I thought you died!" You fussed. Jigen paused, processing what you said, then leaned back against the couch. He flinched lightly, having moved roughly when he first awoke must've strained the wound. Heaving a sigh, he spoke. "Well, I'm okay."

Deciding not to say anything else, you huffed and leaned against his shoulder. After a few minutes he nudged you, asking you to lean forward; you complied. He draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and laying his head atop of yours. You closed your eyes, from weeks of late nights spent worrying, and little to no sleep, it was starting to catch up to you; That or it was because Jigen was finally home, and okay. Nonetheless you were happy and content right where you were, close to falling asleep against him.

"Are you not going to clean up?" Jigen pondered.

Cracking open your eyes and shutting them again, you shifted against him. "I'll do it in the morning." You responded groggily.

Jigen hummed, knowing that he would have his clothes washed and your supplies cleaned before you woke, and then he would be gone again. As much as he hated to leave you waking up alone, he had a job to do. When the time would allow, he would stay for as long as possible, and maybe once you're ready he'll take you with him; But that was a lifetime away. He would just enjoy this while he could.

You woke the next morning in your bed, the sun shining through the curtains and the sound of shuffling outside your door. Sitting up with a yawn, you took the moment to gather your thoughts and get up. Moving towards your door and stepping out into the hallway, you were greeted by Jigen pulling his previously bloody clothes out of the dryer.

"You're up a bit early. Don't you think so?" He asked as he threw his jacket on the couch and began to pull on his shirt. You shook your head, stepping closer behind him, slipping your hands around his waist you nuzzled into his warm back.

Jigen glanced back at you, a small smile on his face.

"So Daisuke, huh?" He teased lovingly.

Letting go of his waist and moving to see his face clearly, you remembered the events from last night and the scare that followed.

"What? You like that or something?" You mused, settling down on the cushion beside his jacket. You snatched up his jacked and held it close.

He raised a brow at you, grasping at his jacket and trying to tug it away from you, only for you to roll away. "No, I just think it's cute." He admitted. Towering over you from behind in an attempt to grab his jacket, you giggled at his failed attempt.

"C'mon give it up." He urged, tickling at your sides. You wiggled and squirmed underneath Jigen, smiling up at him, your grasp on his jacket still strong.

"Stop!" You squeaked. He prevailed with a smile much like your own. "Not until you give me my jacket." He stated.

Seconds of tickling passed by before you gave up, claiming. "White flag, I give up!"

"Finally," Jigen smiled lightly, taking his jacket from your arms and pulling it on. "About time." He teased you. Sitting up and crossing your arms, you pouted.

"Please stay, just a few more minutes." You begged.

Jigen stopped what he was doing to look at you, his smile dropping and his eyes dimming. Sighing, he knelt down in front of you.

"Y/n, you know I have too. We both don't want me to leave, but I have no choice." He explained.

You avoided his gaze, your bright eyes saddening with the thought of him leaving, again.

"Here," Jigen suddenly said. "Keep this." Placing his hat over your face and pulling it down just below your eyes, he placed a chaste kiss against your lips. He didn't linger there for more than a few seconds, the barking of tires outside requesting his company.

As he pulled away, you lifted the hat from your gaze, stumbling to race him towards the window. Grasping his arm tightly just before he was about to jump onto the fire escape, you pulled him back in. Moving your hand to his cheek, you placed a quick kiss on his lips.

"For good luck." You said.

"C'mon Jigen! Hurry up!" Lupin shouted from the street below.

Jigen hastily turned his head to the window, "I'll be there in just a moment." He yelled. Once he had his attention back on you for the moment being, you gave him a hug.

"Please be safe." You said.

Hugging you back softly, he smiled. "Of course."

"Pops is on his way!" Lupin yelled again.

Letting him go, he slipped out onto the fire escape, jumping into the yellow car below. You leaned out the window, "I love you!" You shouted. You could see him look up at you with a bright smile on his face, and a small wave before they raced off around the corner.

You stepped back into your apartment, closing the window and pulling the hat from your head. It was special to him, it surprised you that he even handed it to you. Thankful, you were glad he trusted you with it. The weeks ahead would be boring, draining, and lonely, but soon enough he would be back; in which you would be able to take him up on the offer of joining him. Until then you would wait for him, like you always did.

The wind brushed through Jigen's hair, and he sank into the seat. It wouldn't be too much longer before he would be coming back for that hat, and hopefully if you agreed, he would be coming back for you too. Either way he would be happy to see you again.

Lupin glanced at his partner, a smile on his face.

"Down bad huh?" Lupin teased. Jigen's peace of mind was shattered, bringing on his usual scowl.

"Don't act like you're not down bad too you womanizer." He fussed.

[dioko]

It Would Be so Pretty to Leave, so Easy to.

Bakugou x gn! reader

Word Count: 1113

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki wakes up in the middle of the night to find you in a crummy state after having a nightmare.

Includes: Chronophobia (maybe. important warning though, so i thought id stay on the safer side), Bakugou/reader pairing, fluff

------

Your eyes snapped open in the dead of night, breaths heavy.

It was pitch black outside, except for a street light that lit up the window near Katsuki’s bed. Fat droplets of rain could be seen pattering harshly against the window, and you took your time to soak in its noise. It wasn’t loud, but it sure was soothing. It thundered a little, but you weren’t afraid; it was quite far away. Here, as you lay in bed, it might as well have sounded just as calming as the rain.

Tangled in your covers, you could still feel the rapid thumping inside your chest, never slowing down despite already being awake. This was a panic the sound of the storm had failed to take away from you. Your face began to heat up as fragments of your nightmare reappeared in your head, and a sudden lump welled up inside your throat.

Bakugou Katsuki was a light sleeper; the small, strangled whimper in your throat was bound to have woken him up beside you.

When a blob of tears blurred your vision, you tried to turn around, to no avail. C’mon, you thought to yourself, it’s like 3 AM. Now is not the time to bother Katsuki. Too late, though.

“Ngh,” his voice was still cracked and quavering from fatigue. “C’mere.”

Without waiting for a response, you felt an arm wrap around your side and yank you (quite harshly) into a bare chest. Typically, you’d be happy to hold right back on to him, but today you were matted and sweaty - your clothing stubbornly clinging onto your torso. “‘Suki,” you muttered, pushing away from him.

“What - wait, you’re crying.” He looked confused, “S-sorry - why are you crying?”

“S’not you,” you laughed a little, “just a nightmare.”

You could see his figure nod in the dark. It fell into a comfortable silence as he rolled away from you, allowing a breeze of cool air to finally soothe you a bit.

“Want to talk about it?” Katsuki asked, after a few moments of quiet.

“Hm…” you hummed. Your thoughts were still jumbled; what was the best way to phrase everything?

“I have dreams often,” your voice was quiet, but you were sure he could hear you fine. “They’re not very memorable ones; they’re… I guess they’re typical dreams.”

The blond stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“Most nightmares are normal, right?” It was a rhetorical question. “I’ve had a couple of real nightmares. They stick with me for days - weeks - at a time. I think this was one of them.

You’re a hero, ‘Suki. I don’ think you know what it feels like to run from something. I was running from something in that dream. ‘Kept chasing me. I was in a city.”

“This one?”

“No. Just… a city. It cornered me, in an ally and started to beat me up,” you couldn’t help but laugh. Now that you said it out loud, it sounded a little ridiculous.

“Impossible,” Bakugou played with your hair as you spun your tale, “that’s how you know it was just a dream. If it was real, you woulda handed their asses to them - or, I would have come and fucked shit up for you.”

You giggled a little, though it sounded a little more like a croak.

“S’not the worst part,” you murmured. “Something - someone came to me. He asked if I wanted to leave with him. He said I could stay here or leave it behind,” it was easy to remember what the scenery looked like now: it was dark and muddy, with musky air and dim lights. To leave was light - clear, unlike the city. It would be so pretty to leave, so easy to. “I stayed,” you smiled.

“...and?”

“Lost years of my life.”

“What?”

“I mean - like the scene changed, you know, when dreams do that… thing. Lost years. Time passed without my knowing and I got left behind.”

Silence.

“I don’t - I’m scared, Katsuki. What if I’m not using the time I have now correctly? What if it’s all just a waste? I don’t want my life to pass by in a flash, with regret after regret after regret. That sounds horrible.” It was quiet for a few more seconds, like Bakugou wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to properly word it.

“Then change it. Don’t live in a cage.”

“What?” You sniffed.

“Start doing whatever you want. Erase your regrets and never let them get a hold of you. S’your life, you get to run it however you want. So… do that.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou was perceptive. He caught on to the way you held on to him, how you clung to him no matter what position you were lying in, the way you restlessly rubbed his arms back and forth. Like you were afraid he was just going to fade away.

Like you were afraid he wasn’t real.

“Hey… y/n,” he sounded serious. “Where was I, in your dream?”

“Dunno,” By now, the matted, sticky, post-nightmare feelings had worn off, and you took the opportunity to slide a hand around Bakugou’s neck, bringing him a little closer to you. “I remember thinking of you. I suppose you left. Thought I lost you, or something.”

You didn’t say it aloud, but in your mind, that may have been the most horrifying part of the nightmare. Losing Bakugou Katsuki.

“That’s bullshit,” he grunted. As rough as his words sounded, his eyes gave away his true emotions. Disbelief. Fear, maybe. “M’not gonna leave you.”

“I know.”

“Good. Also, you’re wrong.”

“‘Bout what?”

“I do know what it feels like to run away from something. Running away doesn’t always mean you’ve given up. Don’t be fooled. Sometimes an escape is okay.”

“But that’s cowardly-”

“You think it’s cowardly to prioritize yourself once in a while?”

“... guess it isn’t when you put it like that.”

“See? I’m always right,” he joked, “you can trust me, y/n.”

Your name suited his voice so, so well.

“I know,” you smiled at him and he smiled back. It wasn’t teasing, or mischievous, or malicious. It was a true smile, one that you rarely saw on a person like Bakugou Katsuki.

It felt good to know that you were one of the few people who’d ever see it.

“Now go back to bed,” he yawned, “It’s still the middle of the night.”

“What if I dream it up again?”

“I will personally enter your brain and pulverize your nightmare.”

You chuckled. “I love you.”

The rain pattered softly against the window, and the last thing you heard before drifting off again was a soft ‘I love you too’.

a/n: unedited, lemme know if there are typos/grammatical errors :)

[laventae]

Haikyuu boys - Pretending to be your boyfriend

Miya Atsumu

Summary: Oneshot stories of random situations where the boys pretend to be your boyfriends, but y’all also kinda like each other?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x F!reader

Genre: Fluff?, a bit of angst?, College/Uni au

Word count: 6.6k words

Warnings: Mild cursing

Buzz

The bees buzz around the flowers next to the bench you were sitting on, as you wait for him to show up.

It's been years since you last saw him, and you made up your mind that when you see him this time, you'll be honest with your feelings for him.

Buzz

You look around the park.

This was it, the place where you first accidentally bumped against each other. And ever since that time, you couldn't stop thinking about him. You knew it then, and you still know it now.

He's definitely the one.

"Y/n?" You hear someone call out behind you.

You jump out of your seat as you turn around and see him running towards you.

Buzz Buzz

You can feel all of your senses heighten, clearly hearing the bees buzz as loud as ever, the flowers smell as sweet as ever, the wind blowing a beautiful melody.

You get up and meet him halfway.

"Y/n, I-, ever since I met you, you changed my whole life. There’s-, there's nobody else for me but you, and I-”

"I love you" you finish his sentence, before you close your eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss.

BUZZ BUZZ

You hear the bees buzz even louder. The loudest this time.

'What the fuck?'

You open your eyes to find yourself back in your dark room, lying in bed. Your phone vibrating on your bedside table.

"Are you kidding me?" You groan as you drop your head back on your pillow.

BUZZ BUZZ

"Who the fuck is even calling me right now? Its 12am!" You exclaim loudly.

You grab your phone and check the caller ID.

CALLING: IDIOTSUMU

You groan and answer his call.

"You better be dying, Tsumu" you hiss at him as you close your eyes again.

You hear him chuckle on the other side of the line, "Open the door for me, I'm outside your apartment, and it’s freezing" he whisper yells.

You try to register what he just told you.

"Right now? It's 12am on a weekend, I'm tryna sleep in peace" you tell him as you yawn, getting more comfortable in bed.

"GET UP Y/N!" you hear him yell and that jolts you out of your sleepy state.

"Okay fine, fine, stop yelling! And don't let the neighbors hear or they’ll kick me out because of you" you answer him annoyed, as you get out of bed and head for your door.

You hear him giggle, knowing he won.

"And stop giggling like a little school girl" you continue which only gets him to giggle even more.

You close the phone as you open the door to your apartment and you find him standing there, drenched in rain.

You sigh.

"What now?" you ask him, unamused.

He gives you the most innocent smile he could muster, "can I crash here again tonight?"

"Would you even accept no for an answer?"

"Of course not, thanks y/n!" He says as he jumps in for a hug.

"Get off me, you're wet!" You exclaim but it's too late, the damage is done, so you just give in and hug him back as you close the door.

"Oops," he says as he lets go, both of you knowing full well he did it on purpose, "I'll have to borrow some clothes that I left here last time" he continues, as he makes himself home, going through your fridge to see if you have any leftovers.

"There’s some food leftover from lunch I made today," you sigh as you sit on a stool in your small kitchen. He shoots you a thankful look and a wink, "so what excuse are you gonna give me for crashing at my place again this time, huh? You think I run a hostel here? You know, I was literally having the best dream in the world before you woke me up. We literally almost kissed this time and-"

"Was it with that stupid high school crush of yours, again?" He asks as he takes a seat on the stool next to yours and starts munching on the leftovers.

"He’s not stupid, okay?" You glare at him and he gives you an innocent smile. "He was so dreamy," you sigh lovingly as you think back on your dream again.  

'If I go back to sleep right now, I'd probably-'

"No, you wouldn't be able to finish your dream if you go back to sleep right now" Atsumu casually says as if he heard your thoughts.

You glare at him again, "Besides... Will you just forget about him? I'm literally right here, why would you need any other man?" he continues as he wiggles his eyebrows at you with a smirk on his face.

You scoff at him in disbelief, "Oh, as if" you say as you get up from your seat and head to your room.

"You need some company in bed tonight, sweetheart?" You hear him teasingly shout from where he was sitting before you slam the door of your room loudly as a reply.

You hear him chuckle and you can’t help but laugh as well.

An hour passes while you toss and turn in bed; somehow you just can't fall back asleep anymore, you were wide awake.

You sigh and give up, opting to just stare at the ceiling and try to think about your plans for the next day.

You then hear Atsumu quietly knock on your bedroom door. For some reason, you just didn't have the mental willpower to deal with him, so you close your eyes and pretend to be asleep.

He knocks quietly, once again, before he opens the door and whispers your name.

"Y/n, you still up?" He asks. It’s quiet enough not to wake you up if you were actually asleep, but loud enough to be heard.

When he doesn't get a reply, he walks in quietly. You hear some rustling in your closet, probably looking for some of his clothes he left over at your place.

After a couple of minutes, you feel your bed dip, as Atsumu takes a seat on the side of your bed.

'What is he up to? Is he going to scare me awake as a prank or something??' You think before you feel him place his index finger on your forehead, then starts softly tracing your face as he goes down to the bridge of your nose then down to your lips.

His finger lingers for a bit before he moves a strand of hair off your face.

He quietly sighs, sounding defeated.

"Thank you," you hear him quietly whisper, before he slowly gets off the bed, reach for the door and gently closes it.

Your eyes snap open as soon as you hear him leave your room and you feel your face flush a bit.

'What's he being so fucking weird for?' you think before turning in your bed and falling fast asleep.

-~-~-

You hear you alarm ringing and you groan as you reach for your phone.

Dismiss

You stretch in bed for a minute before you decide that it's time to get up.

You let out a yawn as you reach for your bedroom door and open it.

'Breakfast... what do I make for breakfast' you think as you make your way to the bathroom, before you get startled when you notice Atsumu sleeping on your couch.

"Oh my god, I forgot he was here" you whisper to yourself as you mentally facepalm.

You look back at him and notice the blanket he was using to cover himself, was on the floor.

'How can you sleep like that, it’s freezing' you silently judge him as you sigh and walk over to where he is sleeping.

You bend down to reach the blanket and slowly try to place it over him.

You bend down again next to the couch and smooth over the blanket over his chest.

'Looks much better now,' you think as you sigh, 'this boy is too much work...'

You lean in closer

'He looks like he’s having a good dream', you smile, 'and you know what, he actually doesn't look half-bad when his mouth is shu-’

"I look handsome even when I'm asleep, don't I," he says as he snaps you out of your thoughts. He opens his eyes and turn to you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You feel your face flush slightly.

'Did he just catch me staring at him?? I won't fucking hear the end of this...'

"AS IF!" you exclaim as you get up quickly, and start to walk away.

But you feel him grab your wrist and pull you back down before you get the chance to leave.

You fall on him, your faces inches apart.

You both look equally as startled by the closeness of your faces and you notice his eyes fall to your lips for a moment.

"What?" You ask him, trying to sound annoyed, while trying your best to keep your composure.

'This is so ridiculous. It’s Tsumu, my childhood best friend, why am I getting flustered right now?'

He quickly looks back up to your eyes again, seeming like he finally snapped out of his thoughts as well, "your breath stinks, sweetheart" he finally says, his smirk back on his face.

'Ah... what was I even getting flustered for...?'

"Oh, fuck you," you say pushing him and he lets go of your wrist, "I was on my way to the bathroom you know" you continue, annoyed, as you get up and head to your original destination, and you hear him chuckle behind you.

"Just get up and stop being a lazy ass!" You yell at him one final time before you get in the bathroom and shut the door. You faintly hear him chuckle again.

You slam your head on the bathroom door.

"Ouch..."

'Ugh, he's always teasing you like that, why do you still fall for it??'

You sigh and reach for the sink.

You freshen up for a couple of minutes before you decide to finally leave the bathroom.

You hear some rustling coming from the kitchen and you make your way there.

He whistles as he eyes you up and down, “Damn, I can never get sick of seeing you wearing my shirts,” he says and winks at you.

You look down and notice you were wearing one of the shirts he left over at your place.

“Shut up, it’s not my fault they’re comfortable” you shrug it off.

“Aha, sureee~” he teases you and wiggles his eyebrows.

“I’m going to change” you say with a straight face as you turn back to head to your room

“Heyy,” he laughs as he grabs your hand, pulling you back into the kitchen, “take a joke, will you?” he shakes his head and you just pout.

“Come on, have breakfast with me” he says as he pushes you to sit on one of the stools.

“What’re we feeling today? Scrambled eggs? Cereal? Grilled cheese?”

“Hmm...” you take your time to think, “cereal”

“Coming right up!”

-~-~-

A couple of hours pass after you’ve both finished your breakfast and settled on the couch in the living room.

Saturdays were usually your rest days; days when you enjoyed just lounging around the house and watching movies all day.

And, after enduring the hours of harassment you got from Atsumu during breakfast, you gave in and let him join you for the day.

You scroll through Netflix, looking for a movie to put on so you guys could watch together. Atsumu was sitting right beside you on the couch, scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking over at your laptop to let you know whether he was interested in a movie you pointed out or not.

“So, you never actually answered me yesterday when I asked you what exactly happened,” you break the silence as you continue scrolling.

“Hmm?” he asks, sounding distracted.

You look at him, “Why did you crash here yesterday?”

He looks up from his phone, and you see realization set in when he finally processes your question.

He looks back at his phone, “Sora and I had another fight yesterday,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Oh...” you say and look back at your laptop, “What happened this time?”

“I don’t know, she was going on about some stupid shit again, and then she broke up with me”

“This is like the 50th time you break up since you first started dating last year, isn't it?” you tease him.

“Shut up,” you hear him say as he lightly smacks the back of your head and chuckles.

“What?” you laugh as you look back at him, “It’s true”

You hear him mumble a faint “whatever” as he looks back at his phone.

“Why did you come here then?” you ask

“We had the fight at my place, it was too awkward to stay”

“Right...”

A few moments pass before you speak up again.

“I'm actually curious, you know,” you lean back on the couch facing him, “why do you guys even bother getting back together if you're just going to fight again and break up?”

He looks up at you and you feel him stare into your eyes seriously for a minute, before a smug smirk plays at his lips, “What? Want me all for yourself, sweetheart?”

“Ugh, I'm serious!” you say as you lightly smack his chest and he pretends to fake wince.

“Hmm...” he says, looking down, a serious look on his face again.

You feel him contemplating and thinking hard about something and you start to feel worried.

You always found it hard to see Atsumu take something seriously. You knew he obviously took certain things seriously, like school and work. But when he’s with you, he’s always shown you his fun side. He would almost always end up being the one to cheer you up when you're down, or try his best to make you smile or laugh when he notices you were sad about something; always teasing you whenever he had the chance to; always keeping everything lively.

Though you appreciated that about him, you always wanted to do the same for him as well. Try to cheer him up when he’s down or just be there to listen to his problems. But somehow, you felt like he would purposely try to hide that part of himself away from you. And it only worsened when he started dating Sora last year.

You didn’t know why. You brought it up to him a couple of times before but he would always shrug it off, telling you it’s nothing.

So, in the very, very rare occasions you see that side of him, you can’t help but worry. Because you think that it’s serious enough for him to not even be able to hide it from you.

“Hey,” you softly whisper as you try smooth out the crinkles on his forehead.

‘Don’t overthink things on your own...’

He turns to you looking startled for a moment, then looks away.

You sigh and move your hand back down.

“Want me to take you to your favorite ice-cream truck tonight?” you ask him softly.

A moment passes but you don’t get a reply.

“On me...?” you add, knowing full well he wouldn’t have refused the offer anyways, he was just being stubborn.

You notice him slightly hesitate before he nods his head.

You giggle, “You’re a big baby, huh?”

“Just play a stupid movie” you hear him mumble as he pouts and you can't help but giggle again.

‘I guess this is better than nothing...’

-~-~-

You get to your favorite ice-cream truck spot and order your favorite ice-cream cone flavor. You figure you might as well enjoy it as you wait for Atsumu to get there.

Half-way through the movie you started earlier that day, Atsumu got an urgent call from his part-time job asking him to fill in for a sick colleague. So instead of going to the ice-cream truck together, you decided to meet there after his shift ended.

It was almost the beginning of winter, and it was starting to get cold, so it was definitely not the best time to grab ice-cream. But somehow, you always noticed it would bring Atsumu comfort when he was feeling down, and was too stubborn to share his discomforts with you. So, it became a bit of routine you guys would have. Whenever he would feel down, you’d buy him an ice-cream cone from this very truck, and for some reason, it would help him open up little by little.

You check your phone.

8:25 P.M

‘Five more minutes until his shift ends’ you think to yourself as you take another bite of your ice-cream.

You decide to just scroll through your social media feed as you wait for Atsumu. His part-time job wasn’t too far from where the truck was located, so it wouldn’t be much long until he gets there.

8:29 P.M

“Well, well, well,” you suddenly hear someone say as they get closer.

You look up from your phone.

“Don’t you just look sad, sitting there all alone” the girl continues with a mean smile on her face, and the girl next to her just giggles.

“Oh,” you say, unamused, when you finally recognize who they were, “It’s ditz number 1 and ditz number 2”

“Not funny,” the girl replies quickly with the same mean smile still plastered on her face, “listen, Sora told us what happened, and we know it won’t be much long until they get back together, so just back off” the first girl continues and the second just nods.

“Huh?” you laugh, “she’s the one who broke up with him, besides, what does that even have to do with me?”

The first girl scoffs, “because it’s always your fault”

She shoots you a glare and before you could even reply you hear someone call you as they rush over to your side.

“Sweetheart, sorry I was late, I ran here as fast as I could!” Atsumu tells you, catching his breath, before he realizes who you were standing with.

“Wow... sweethearts already, huh?” the first girl says, sounding fake excited as she looks at the second girl, “Sora’s gonna love this” she continues and they both giggle annoyingly.

You suddenly feel Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, and you look at it confused.

“Yeah, we're dating,” you hear him say.

All of your heads snap to him, you looking the most confused, “so just tell Sora to stop contacting me” he says sternly.

‘How bad was the fight between them?’ you find yourself question as you see that serious look on his face the second time that day.

Both the girls scoff at his statement.

“Oh, really?” the first girl asks, that same mean smile back on her face again.

“Yeah really,” you chime in this time, giving her the same mean smile she’s been giving you the whole time.

At this point you’ve really just had it with their attitudes, and if that’s how Atsumu wanted to deal with the situation, you decided to just roll with it.

“So, both you and Sora should just fuck off,” you continue and look at Atsumu who had a bemused look on his face, “Now come on, babe, let's go back home” you smile at him.

It takes him a moment before his expression changes, a soft smile replacing his bemused look.

“Let’s,” he says as he pulls you even closer.

You intertwine the fingers of your free hand with his that was around your shoulder, “Bye now” you wave to the two girls, leaving them with a shocked expression on their face, as you and Atsumu start walking away.

You both feel yourself holding back your laughter, and wait until you're out of the line of sight of the two girls.

As soon as you round the corner, however, you both start laughing hysterically.

“Did you see their faces?” you both ask each other at the same time, before laughing even harder.

A couple of minutes pass as you both try to calm yourselves down, then both instinctively go back to the position you left the startled girls in. His arm around your shoulder and your hands intertwined with each other.

You start walking.

It takes you a minute before you realize, “Hey, they can’t see us anymore” you tell him, though you didn’t necessarily want to let go.

“But it’s comfortable,” he says and you look up at him and notice a soft smile on his face.

‘Damn... even he can make a face like that, huh?’ you feel your face flush slightly.

‘Wait, no’

He feels you looking up at him and looks at you, “What?”

“You’re ugly, you know that, right?” you answer as you look away, not wanting to admit your thoughts.

He starts chuckling, “You were thinking I look really handsome right now, weren’t you?”

“As if...” you pout and he chuckles again.

You feel him gently knock his head against yours, “Thank you,” he whispers quietly, “for having my back, back there”

You smile.

‘Stop being cute...’

‘No wait, I didn’t just think that’

“You would’ve done the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Right...” you hear him whisper as his grip on your hand tightens.

‘Why is my heart beating fast right now? This isn’t the first time we’ve been this close...’

“Oh, by the way,” you look up at him apologetically as soon as you notice.

“What’s wrong?” he asks worriedly, when he notices the look on your face.

You point at the almost melted ice-cream cone you're holding with your other hand. Thankfully it was cold enough outside for it to not have fully melted, however.

“We didn’t get your ice-cream" you look back at him, pouting.

He just chuckles, “You scared me, you idiot” he says as he grabs the hand with your ice-cream and takes a bite.

“Hey, that’s mine!” you exclaim but don’t stop him.

“You at least owe me this”

“Whatever” you mumble, and he chuckles, letting go of your hand.

“Enjoy it for me then”

-~-~-

You both continue walking, silently enjoying each other’s company, letting him have a bit of your ice-cream every now and then, before it was completely consumed by the both of you.

You then notice you were next to his apartment building.

“Hey, what're we doing here?” you ask him.

“Oh, I wanted to grab a few things from my place, I was thinking of crashing at yours again tonight,” he says and looks at you, “would that be okay?”

“Why do you even ask when you already made up your mind?”

He chuckles, “Is that a yes?”

‘How could I even say no?’

You curse that thought,

‘What’s wrong with me today?’

You sigh, “I guess it’s fine”, you say pretending to be annoyed.

He chuckles again.

A few minutes later, you get to the front of his apartment door.

You watch as he struggles to put the keys in the door.

“You know you could just let go of my hand, that way you could actually get the keys in,” you laugh, trying to let go of his hand.

He just holds it tighter, “No, it’s fine, I can do it” he says and you just shake your head at him.  

However, a few moments pass and you both start chuckling at his constant failed attempts to get the keys in the lock.

“I’m telling you then,” you try to say between laughs, “just let g-”  

“Wow,” a voice behind you interrupts you from finishing your sentence, however.

You both turn around and find Sora standing with her arms crossed, “They told me I had to see it to believe it, but here it is” she says as she points at the both you.

You feel Atsumu stiffen next to you and you both start to let go.

You look up at Atsumu and see him just staring at Sora blankly.

‘What’s wrong with you? Say something’

You take the initiative instead to voice what you were both probably thinking, “What’re you doing here, Sora?”

She just ignores you, however, and directs her words to Atsumu, “You finally did it, huh? I guess I should say congratulations”

You look back at Atsumu, confused, but he still keeps quiet.

“I kept wondering why all those months of us being together kept feeling so lonely; you’d just keep checking your phone constantly, as if waiting for someone else’s texts, or calls. If I wasn’t officially called your girlfriend, I'd think I was the side bitch instead” Sora continues.

“What’s going on?” you whisper to Atsumu but he still stays quiet, his head hanging down.

“And you know what, I knew it, all along. I kept bringing it up to you, and asking you about it but you would just shrug it off, and tell me I'm just being overdramatic. You were literally stringing me along so you can have someone give you the love and attention you actually craved from someone else” Sora continues, still ignoring you.

“So, I was right all along, wasn’t I?” she asks, scarily calm.

Silence.

“I WAS, WASNT I?” She yells at Atsumu.

You feel the need to step in again, “Sora, I think you should calm-”

“I’m sorry...” you suddenly hear Atsumu quietly say, still looking down.

‘I can't watch this...’ you think as you look away, feeling hurt, for Atsumu.

You weren’t very sure what was going on, but seeing Atsumu look so weak made your heart ache.

Sora starts laughing.

Atsumu finally looks up at Sora, “I’m sorry” he says louder this time.

“Fuck you,” Sora replies to him and she finally turns her attention to you, “both of you deserve each other” she says as she turns around on her heel and starts walking away.

You both watch her as she disappears around the corner.

You hesitantly turn your attention back to Atsumu.

“Hey,” you softly whisper but he wouldn’t even look at you.

You slowly grab his keys instead and open the door to his apartment.

“Let’s go in first,” you say as you gently grab his arm, leading him inside his apartment and closing the door.

You stand there silently for a few minutes before you hesitantly try to speak, “Tsumu, wha-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts you, “I’m sorry you had to be there for that”

“Hey, it’s fine, why’re you even apologizing? I mean it was Sora who crossed the line, who does she think she is to just-”

“It’s not her fault” he says, interrupting you again, sounding a bit angry.

“What’re you even talking about? She was the one who-”

“I told you it’s not her fault!” he suddenly yells, the first time you ever see him act this way, “It’s mine, and she was right...” he sighs, frustrated, as he turns his back away from you.

“Tsumu, what happened?” you ask him, pulling his arm to try and make him face you.

He shrugs your hand off, “You wouldn’t understand,” he says, sounding agitated.

But that makes YOU angry instead.  

‘It’s always like this...’

He’s always like this, when he shuts down and pushes you out before even trying to explain the situation to you.

“THEN MAKE ME UNDERSTAND, GODDAMMIT!” this time, it's you who yells.

You grab his arm once again and turn him to face you.

“You really want to understand?” He asks getting increasingly frustrated for some reason.

You were slightly scared of seeing this side of him for the first time, but you knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

You lock your eyes on his gaze, as if to challenge him.

‘I’m not going to lose this time...’

When he notices your eyes not wavering, he takes a step towards you, then another.

You still have your eyes locked on his but you can’t help but take a few steps back until you bump into the wall behind you.

He doesn’t stop, and slams his fists against either side of the wall.

You feel you heart start to race.

‘What is he thinking?’ you wonder, but you still don’t waver from his gaze.

He takes another step and closes the little space left between the two of you.

You feel your heart racing even faster.

‘Why...?’

He starts leaning in closer, eyes still locked on yours and you unintentionally hold your breath.

‘Is... Is he going to kiss me?’

He closes his eyes as he inches even closer, until there are only a few millimeters left between your lips, but then he just sighs, sounding defeated, and drops his head down, his arms relaxing around you.

You suddenly let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and feel light-headed when you notice how fast your heart was beating at that point.  

‘Wha-’

“I'm so fucking in love with you,” You hear Atsumu quietly whisper, loud enough for you to hear.

It takes you a few moments for you to even register what he said.

You think he might’ve said it as a joke, so you wait, but he doesn’t laugh or show you any sign of it as being a joke.

He looks back up at you and notices the confused look on your face.

You notice his hands roll into fists before he lowers them down, releasing you from his grip.

You momentarily see a hurt look in his eyes before he looks back down defeated.

“I expected that much,” he quietly says.

‘Wait... I...’

“Tsumu-”

“It’s getting late, you should leave,” he says as he turns around and starts walking away “or you can stay on the couch if you want”  

“Wait-!” You sigh as he closes the door behind him.

You reach for the apartment door and open it,

‘He probably needs some space right now…’

But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave so you shut the door again and head for his couch.

You sit down and try to piece everything that happened together, and then everything clicks in your head.

Everything Sora said outside Atsumu's apartment and everything her ditzy friends said.

Their fights…. They were always because of you?

“I'm so fucking in love with you” You hear Atsumu’s voice echo in your head and your heart starts racing again.

He was in love with you? Why did it happen? How did it happen? WHEN did it even happen?

‘No, no, that’s not what's important here,’ you think to yourself ‘do you even like him back?’

Your heart starts racing again.

And you think back on all the times you’ve spent with each other.

Ever since growing up, you both spent all your time together, playing games, watching movies, going on adventures together. And that didn’t even change as you grew up. You still look forward to seeing him daily or just texting him or calling him. Even if your hangouts consist of just sitting around lazily, you both found comfort in just each other's presence.

He would get excited for your good news and feel bad for your bad news, and you were the same for him. And you know that he’s always been there for you when you needed him most. Always there to give you a shoulder to cry on. Even when there was nothing he could do at the moment to make you feel better, he would still stay with you until you could get back up on your feet to face the world again, together.

He's always been such a huge part of your life, a huge presence.  

You don't even know if you could be as happy as you are with your life, if he wasn’t a part of it.

You slowly start to realize your feelings and you couldn’t help but start tearing up.

How could you not have noticed…

“Fuck, Tsumu…” you whisper to yourself, trying to hold back your tears.

‘I'm so fucking in love with you too…’

-~-~-

An hour passes before you know it, as you try to get yourself together and figure out what to do next.

You look back at his bedroom door from where you were sitting on his couch.

You didn’t hear anything from inside for a while, and he hasn’t left the room ever since his confession an hour earlier.

You sigh as you get off the couch and head to his bedroom door.

You hesitate when your hand reaches the door handle, but your worry for him overcomes the nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You open the door slowly and peek inside; he’s lying in bed.

‘Is he sleeping?’

“Tsumu?” you whisper quietly but he doesn’t move.

You open the door slowly, and walk quietly to the side of his bed, hoping not to wake him up.

‘He looks so tense...’ you sigh when you notice the look on his sleeping face, as if he were having a bad dream.

You sit on the floor and reach for his crinkled forehead, trying to smooth it out.

You feel him slightly relax at your touch and it makes you smile.

You think back to the time he touched your face, when you pretended to be asleep and automatically started to do the same thing. You started with you index finger on his forehead, slowly going down the bridge of his nose, then to his lips.

‘So tempting...’ you think to yourself as your finger hovers over his lips for a second.

You curse yourself in your head.

Your thoughts are interrupted when his eyes suddenly snap open, and you move your hand back quickly, hoping he didn’t notice.

His look changes from startled to confused, “I thought you left” he silently whispers.

You look at him confused, then you remember how you opened his apartment door to leave, but decided against it and went back inside.

“I couldn't leave you alone like this” you quietly reply.

You both look into each other's eyes for a few moments before you look away, finding it hard to keep eye contact.

“I just wanted to check up on you,” you say as you slowly try to get up, “sorry I came in your room withou-”

He suddenly holds your hand before you get the chance to walk away, “Stay,” you hear him quietly whisper to you.

You feel your heart start racing again.

‘Don't sound so desperate... you don’t know how that makes me feel...’

You turn around to look at him and meet his pleading eyes, “Stay with me for a bit...” he continues, almost begging you.

It takes you a few moments to try and calm your racing heart but you fail.

You just nod, and he lets go of your hand.

He then moves back on his bed to give you enough space, and raises his blanket, silently asking you to get in.

You hesitate for a second before complying; he then makes sure his blanket is covering your whole body.

You both lie there, on his bed, facing each other, neither of you saying a word.

You can't help but notice the way the moonlight hits his face at that angle, even though it was nighttime you could still see every outline of his face very clearly, and he looked so

‘Handsome...’

You feel your face slightly flush.

He slowly raises his hand and it hovers along the side of your face; you see him hesitate, close his eyes then put his hand back down, sighing defeatedly.

You gently put your hand on his, taking it and guiding it to the side of your face again.

His eyes snap open and stares into your eyes, a bemused look on his face.

You smile as you feel him trace the red on your cheeks, still looking confused.

“Am I dreaming right no-” he starts to say before you suddenly interrupt him.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, startling him.

He looks at you even more confused, probably questioning if he heard you right.

“Kiss me,” you tell him, louder this time.

You don’t know where all of this boldness came from, but as you both laid there together, staring into each other’s eyes, you couldn't hold yourself any longer, and you wondered how he was able to, for however long he did.

You see his eyes fall to your lips, but he hesitates again, probably still unsure if he was hearing you correctly.

So, you decide to initiate it instead.

You close the space between the both you, as you close your eyes and lean in to kiss him.

You feel a sense of hesitation for a moment from Atsumu, as your lips land on his, then slowly feel him kiss you back.

Your heart start to race faster, feeling the warmth of his lips engulf you and you can’t help but pull back.

‘What was that...?’ you ask yourself.

Never have you ever felt that way when you kissed someone before.

You always thought people who claimed to feel fireworks, or butterflies in the pit of their stomach when they kissed someone, was just exaggerations they would make up.

I mean, you certainly never felt that with anyone you’ve kissed before...

Even though you were sure you liked them.

Until now...

‘I guess it’s true then, huh...’

“I love you,” you whisper quietly to him, accidently voicing your thoughts.

“What did you say?” he asks you, getting startled again.

“I love you too, Tsumu” you repeat, meeting his confused gaze.

You notice the slight twinkle in his eyes, before he grabs your wrist and pins you down on his bed. Not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to hold you down.

He stares into your eyes for a minute, “You can’t take it back...” he tells you, and you notice a small pout on his lips.

You chuckle softly, “I won’t”

You see a smile of relief appear on his lips before he crashes them against yours, once again. This time, he was more confident.

Your free hand cups the side of his face as he deepens the kiss, and you try to hold him even closer.

After a few minutes, he pulls away, his forehead leaning against yours, as you both try to catch your breath.

He smiles again and gazes into your eyes, both of you dazed from the passion you felt during the kiss, and you can see the red on his cheeks.

You never thought him giving you an expression like that would make you feel so happy.

You smile as your thumb traces over his cheek.

He sighs in frustration, lets you go, and falls back into his bed.

You look at him as he stares at the ceiling, “I really hope this isn’t a dream...” he says quietly, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

It makes you smile as you get closer to him and snuggle on his chest, closing your eyes, “I promise it isn’t”

You feel him wrap his arms around you and kiss the top of your head.

You look up at him and give him a quick peck on the lips before you go back to your snuggled position, “Go to sleep now, you already had a long day” you say as you lightly trace circles on his shirt.

You feel his arms tighten around you as he snuggles closer to you as well, “I'm warning you again, y/n, you can’t change your mind tomorrow”

You just chuckle, the warmth of his embrace sending you fast asleep, with a smile on your face.

(HQ Masterlist)

[raindownforme]

Writing Event

Hi! I was tagged by @jschllatt for a writing event, and this is for her!

———

5. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used] (reader had freckles for context)

y/n stirred in their sleep, doing their best to shift with the almost unfamiliar weight. Almost, as if they didn’t know what it felt like to have someone else laying on top of them.

“Charlie?”

“No no no, go back to sleep.”

y/n peeked one eye open, looking at their boyfriend. Charlie was lazily propped up on one arm, the rest of his weight draped over y/n’s once sleeping self.

“Good morning I guess.” y/n tried to move, but found themself still stuck under Charlie. He had a leg wrapped between theirs and a hand holding the side of their face. “Can I get up yet?”

“No wait I’m counting.” Charlie’s voice was hushed, just above a whisper. y/n watched him squint as he focused on various points of their face.

“Maybe you’d be quicker if you put your glasses on.”

Charlie gasped, letting go of y/n’s face to reach over to the bedside table. He returned with his glasses resting on his nose, starting to fall off from the angle. “Okay. Now I have to start over.”

“Do we have to do this right now?” y/n yawned.

“Aw, you’re adorable. And yes I do.”

“Babe, I want to get up. Can you do this later? Some other time I’m asleep?”

“Fine I’ll stop counting.”

“Thank you.”

“Now it’s time to play connect-the-dots!” Charlie pulled y/n closer with his legs. He began to very gently drag his finger across the surface of y/n’s skin, following made-up patterns and lines.

y/n hummed lowly, feigning annoyance with their boyfriend. “Can you stop playing connect-the-dots with my freckles?”

Charlie drew back his touch. “Fine.” He rolled over, releasing y/n from his weight, and rolled over.

y/n propped themselves upright, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re upset?”

Charlie mumbled a response and y/n leaned closer to try and hear him. He leaned closer a bit as well, repeating himself. “I wanted to see.”

“They aren’t even patterns, it’s just dots.”

“No, these ones-“ Charlie turned back and very gently put his thumb over the side of their face, right over where the cheek bones began and to the side of the outer corner of their eye. “It’s almost a triangle shape. Or a couple triangles. There a couple patterns, you just don’t see them.”

y/n paused, almost freezing under Charlie’s touch, then leaned into the contact. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Get back here and keep counting loser.”

y/n opened their arms, allowing Charlie to get back to his previous position in the shared bed and continue happily connecting the dots.

———

8. Charlie Slimecicle x reader [they/them]

y/n shivered. It was that kind of early morning cold. The being on a leather car seat while the wind whipped outside. The early morning chill of January.

y/n and Charlie knew this was coming. They’d known for two months know. Earlier, in the beginning of November when they planned the trip, neither one of them felt the sadness they feel now. They’d both been happy; y/n had the ability to come stay the whole month with Charlie. Usually, the couple could only see each other a few weeks out of the year. Usually it was Charlie with the looser schedule, and usually that made Charlie the one to drive or fly the distance between them.

y/n stared out the window lazily. There weren’t very many people out on the roads at this hour. They watched the grey industrial buildings pass as Charlie turned into the airport, going up to the third floor of the parking garage and finding an empty spot.

y/n quietly and slowly unbuckled themself from the car. They left the car, turning to see Charlie already holding their large suitcase. y/n smiled at him, small tears coming to their eyes. They reached out politely, trying to take it from him.

“No I want it.”

“It’s okay, it’s not even yours.”

“Let me. Please?”

y/n gave in with a smile, taking Charlie’s free hand in theirs as they let Charlie lead them into the airport. They made their way across the patterned carpet to the check-desk.

“Hi there.” There was a lone employee working the front desk. She extended a hand outwards. “Boarding pass and ID please?” y/n fished though their carry-on bag, bringing forth the paper and plastic card. The employee scanned it and looked over at their computer. “Alright, just you y/n?”

“Yes.” y/n knew it wasn’t meant to be cruel, but the words still dug at their skin and itched at their bones. Just them. No Charlie. They’d be alone. Again.

“Alright. That’ll be gate 36B. Unfortunately, sir, you can’t come to the gate.”

“What the farthest I can come?” Charlie glanced over to y/n.

“Just to TSA.”

“Is there any way?”

“I’m sorry I can only bend that rule if you’re accompanying a minor.”

Charlie nodded and the couple walked away. They walked towards the large LED bord that displayed the flight information. y/n watched Charlie scan it with squinted eyes.

“401 right? Flight 401? We’ve got— shit.” Charlie frowned. “40 minutes. We move gotta get you through security.”

“We?”

Charlie looked back to y/n. They had tears brimming their eyes and were fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of their sweater. They were still wearing Charlie’s sweater.

“I guess I can’t take you any further.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t have to get mad at me.” Charlie frowned at y/n. He set their bag to the side and gently took the carry-on from their shoulders, placing it near the bag. Charlie pulled them closer, wrapping his body around them and leaning his head against the top of theirs. “I’ll see you again.”

“But when?” y/n did their best to not cry, but it seemed impossible in this moment. They were tired. They were cold. And they had to leave the person they cared for more than anything within the next ten minutes.

“I don’t know. Valentine’s Day? I can try and drive over in maybe April?”

“But that’s such a long drive. God why can’t this be fucking easier?” y/n groaned against Charlie’s shoulder, grasping onto his shirt tighter with their fists. “It took me so long to save for this and I don’t know— I don’t know anything.”

“Then move in with me.”

“What?” y/n looked at Charlie with a strange smile. It wasn’t the first time Charlie had suggested the idea, but they’d only been dating for a few months the last time it was mentioned. Now they were a year and 6 months deep and it was the first it had been mentioned in a while.

“Or I’ll move in with you. We wouldn’t have to be separated, and I could work virtually anywhere.”

“We don’t have— I don’t have room at my place for a streaming set up.”

“We can get an all new place. Just us. We can go look around when I’m down there.”

y/n thought for a moment. “Alright. You better hurry then.”

“Of course.”

The two stood in silence for a minute, still hugging. y/n glanced over at the clock that hung near the LED display. “I gotta go. I still gotta get through security.”

“No. Wait, don’t pull away… not yet.” Charlie pressed y/n even closer, leaving light kisses on the top of their head and the side of their face. “I love you. Please text me when you land. Like seriously.”

“I will I will. I love you too.”

“Okay.” Charlie let y/n go. He handed them all their stuff and stepped back, taking them in before not seeing them for the next few weeks. “How many other sweater did you steal?”

“Only two more, but I think I deserve them.”

“Alright.” Charlie laughed a bit. “Go get on your flight.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Charlie watched silently as y/n made their way through security. It took them almost five minutes, but once on the other side, they sent a sad wave to Charlie and walked off to the gates. Charlie waited a moment, hesitating, then made the walk to his car alone. He crossed the airport street alone. He walked in the parking garage alone. And he got in his car and drove home. Alone.

———

12. Canon! Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used]

Las Nevadas was on fire. The water feature had died out hours ago. The casino was crumbling to stone. The tower had been cut in half. The strip club had been shattered. The restaurant had been torn apart. The roads were destroyed. The toll bridge had collapsed.

But they won, right?

Quackity stood alone. He watched his allies from a short distance. Foolish supported Purpled’s weight as he leaned against the god with a broken leg. Fundy rested against a wall, panting and covered in blood that didn’t belong to himself. Sam was no where to be seen, but they knew he was still alive.

But Slime? He was running. He was running in a large circle, searching through rubble and ash as he shouted.

“y/n?” Y/N?” He leaned on his hands and knees in the sand. His suit had been ruined for a long time now. The seams of his button up shirt had begun to rip in battle, the bottom of his pant legs had been singed and torn and blackened by the battle, and he wore only one suspender now, the other one much too weak and quite easily forgotten. He did not wear his tie, however he knew who was wearing it. “y/n?”

“Quackity,” Fundy looked upwards to his ally. “We can’t let him.”

Quackity ran a shaky, blood-stained hand down the front of his own suit in a nervous manner. “He has to find out somehow. Do you want to tell him?”

Fundy didn’t say anything, instead watching his friend run around. “Y/N!”

“This is cruel.” Foolish whispered to Purpled. The young boy could only nod in agreement, just a little too weak to do much else. Foolish, realizing this, helped the teen move over to sit next to Fundy, resting him against the crumbling wall of the fountain. Foolish turned around with the intent to aid Slime in his search, but was stopped by a simple hand placed upon his shoulder.

Quackity stood to the left of Foolish. He could see Quackity do his best to hold in the tears that had already left small tracks through the dust that had settled over Quackity’s face. “Just— let him. I can’t tell him. I can’t.”

The group watched Slime dig by hand. The rouble almost phased through his skin, but he kept digging. When he got too frustrated by one building, he ran to the next one, repeating the process. They watched on in pain for only a minute longer. Fundy looked to Foolish and Quackity. “Do we know where-?”

“Y/N.” Slime screamed in utter joy, pulling out y/n from the rubble. He proudly carried them back over to where Quackity and the rest of the group sat, gently setting them down on the ruined pavement. He kneeled with them, resting their head in his lap. Slime very gently carded his fingers through their hair, seeming to think to himself. He reached deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a neon pink healing potion.

Foolish shrugged off Quackity’s grasp and walked over to where Slime sat. He kneeled down next to the green guy, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and pull him away. “Slime, buddy—“

“Let me go.” Slime’s voice was gentle and somehow mature. He spoke sadly, but also as though he understood what was happening still. “I can still save them. I know I can.”

Foolish glanced back to the group to watch Quackity shake his head solemnly. “Buddy, I know it’s hard-“

“No, I promised.” Slime’s voice began to shake. He desperately poured the potion over the parts of y/n’s body where damage was obvious; bruises from the crushing rubble, burns from the fires and explosions, and the gaping cauterized sword wound to their abdomen. Slime smiled as he gazed at their peaceful face. It almost looked like they were sleeping. “I promised them.”

“Promised what buddy?”

“I told them everyone turns to dust and goes away, but I promised them I wouldn’t let it happen. I’ve seen it happen. I watched it. And I wouldn’t let them turn to dust.” Slime leaned down, pressing a light kiss to y/n’s forehead. He stayed close, whispering to the corpse in his lap. “Im so sorry.”

Foolish placed a hand on Slime’s shoulder again, trying to pull him away. “Buddy-“

“No!” He pushed Foolish away, leaning closer to y/n and holding them in a protective embrace. Slime gently laid a hand on y/n wrist, feeling the material of his neck tie in a knot around it. “I can still help them, please just let me— let me save them. Please.”

The group sat in silence. Slime’s shoulders shook as he sobbed over y/n’s body. Fundy and Quackity wiped away a few tears as well, listening to their friend wail into the night.

———

14. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them]

“Listen, man, hurry up. We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.” Schlatt leaned back into the plush leather seat, resting a hand over his eyes.

Charlie sighed, looking over the stuff he’d piled on the couch. He huffed, looking around. “Okay. I’ve got my phone, charger, wallet, jacket, I’m dressed, teeth brushed, what the fuck am I forgetting?”

“Uh, buddy.” Ted cleared his throat and tapped at the side of his face. Charlie paused for a moment, squinting before realizing what he missed.

“My glasses! My goddamn glasses. Alright gimme a minute.”

The two boys watched Charlie walk back down the hall of Ted’s apartment. Schlatt groaned and lazily stood up from his seat. He walked over to the small pile of Charlie’s stuff and began sorting through.

“What are you doing?”

“If I can find these faster, maybe we can actually get out of here.” Schlatt stuck his hands into the pockets of Charlie’s jacket. “Hate this fucking smog— oh.”

“Oh?” Ted sat up slightly, watching Schlatt pull a small black velvet box out. “Oh. Oh! Holy fuck.”

“Did he talk to you about this?” Schlatt dropped the volume of his voice, trying to not alert Charlie.

“No not at all. Is it for y/n?”

“I guess.” Ted and Schlatt had never met y/n in person before, only talking when they would be nearby if Charlie was in a discord call. But the two knew that Charlie loved them dearly, he talked about them whenever he got the chance. He boasted about anything y/n did, anywhere they went, any thing he could say.

“Do we— do we give him advice? Do we say anything?”

“Do you have advice to give someone who’s about to propose?”

Schlatt bit the inside of his lip. Instead of responding to Ted, he opened the box and his eyes went wide. “Holy shit dude.”

“What?” Ted got up and walked over to Schlatt’s side. The ring Charlie had gotten was beautiful; a silver band with ornate vines that held very small diamonds, all encasing a round amber gem. Ted very gently took the box from Schlatt, rotating it back and forth to see how the light glimmered on the gemstones.

“Ted this is… where’d he even get that?”

“I don’t know.” Ted stared into the ring. “We shouldn’t be hanging this. We should put it back.”

“Why do I want to wear it?”

“Why do you?”

Schlatt took the box from Ted, staring at it for a moment, then put it back in the coat pocket. He shuffled the jacket around, trying to make the setting look natural. “Now wha—“

“Okay I found it.” Charlie ran out of the room, rubbing at the glass with his shirt material. “What are we standing about?”

“Nothing.” Ted turned to Charlie quickly, awkwardly smiling. “Ready?”

The three boys made their way from Ted’s home to his car, then out onto the streets of Hollywood, headed towards Santa Monica. It was only a half-hour drive, and no one had too much to say.

“So. Charles.” Ted glanced at his friend in the backseat through the rear view mirror. “How are you and y/n doing?”

Schlatt made a pointed look at Ted as Charlie began talking. “We’re great! They got this really big job and we’re going to celebrate when I get back. There’s this restaurant downtown that’s so pretty— it’s their favorite! I mean, it was going to be a surprise, but hopefully it all goes well.”

Schlatt, thought for a moment, catching on to what Ted was thinking. “Is there something that needs to go well? It’s just dinner isn’t it?”

“Actually, can I tell you both about something?”

“Yes.” They both answered in unison, turning to look at Charlie as they stopped at the red light.

“Well, I wanted to, at dinner, I mean we weren’t doing dinner until I get back home, but I have this.” Both boys held their breath as Charlie went fishing in his jacket pockets. It took him a few minutes to procure the small black box, but eventually his found it and held it forwards, showing it off to his friends.

“Wow. Proposing?” Schlatt laid surprise thick into his voice, and thankfully Charlie didn’t notice.

“Yeah! I picked it out myself. Here look.” Charlie opened up the box, showing off the gems that sparkled in the sunlight. Schlatt glanced up at Ted who stared forwards at the 10 freeway.

“That’s really cool, thanks for telling us.”

Charlie frowned. “Is it not as good idea? You don’t sound that excited.”

“No it’s a great idea! I mean obviously we don’t know y/n as well.” Schlatt gestured to himself and Ted. “But it’s obvious you love them. I mean look at you, buying a ring and everything. Making dinner plans, Charlie this is amazing.”

“Also Schlatt found the ring earlier.”

Schlatt smacked Ted on the arm, sending him a glare. “So you guys knew?” Charlie smacked the box shut.

“Not on purpose. I was trying to find your glasses and I just happened across it. You didn’t hide it very well.”

“I—“

Ted laid on the horn, repeatedly honking at the Tesla that had cut him off. “Son of a mother fucker.”

“Starting to hate LA?”

Ted peered over at Schallt with a glare, then went back to driving. “We are happy for you Charlie, we were just kind of waiting for you to mention it to us.”

“Yeah, and we want to meet y/n! It’s been two years now?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m just scared? I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone before. I’m terrified.”

“Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s y/n. You fly home tomorrow right?” Charlie nodded. “Let us know how it goes man. I’m invested now.”

Charlie laughed. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Charlie took the 7 hour flight home. In that same day, Ted and Schlatt each received a picture of y/n wearing the engagement ring around their finger, both them and Charlie smiling wide.

———

Congrats Nat on getting 1k!