#maybe asking questions will help me get my ducks in a row

[crispycreambacon]

I so badly wanna ramble about Yazrin (my version of the Genie who is a trans woman) but I have no idea what to ramble about or what to talk about hAGHAAAAAAAAAAAA

If you see this and wanna know more about her, please ask questions either in asks or comments or via mailing a letter to my home address (I will sideeye you if you use the last method though) I will be very very serotonin-filled and delighted to answer

Small note: the Trans Woman!Genie AU is packaged with "The Professor and the Genie rekindling their friendship" AU

[pathologicalreid]

Hello, love your writing, can i request a oneshot for spencer Reid x wife!reader with the plot of the movie taken where she goes on a business trip or something and she gets taken and the team have to work against the clock to get her back. Had this idea for so long and thought you would be perfect to write it. Perfectly fine if you dont but im craving this story.

leave a message after the beep | S.R.

When you go missing under suspicious circumstances on a business trip, the BAU goes to Texas - and ends up in the middle of something bigger than anticipated.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, blood, guns, reader almost kills someone, hospitals, the securities and exchange commission, typical cm violence, texas, takes place maybe circa season 7 word count: 4.03k a/n: okay anon so like yes i can write this but also i've never seen the movie taken so really i took your request and made it my own! i hope you like it either way!

Tuesday, 2:17 p.m.

“Hey, Spence, it’s me. Shame I got your voicemail, but I just landed at Dallas Fort Worth and I’m waiting for my ride to take me to meet the regional officers. Not sure if you’re traveling, but uh, call me when you get this, I guess. Or when you can. Hopefully, this trip goes better than I think it’s going to… oh, I think my ride is here.”

Tuesday, 6:42 p.m.

“Hey babe, so, the first meeting went fine, they don’t seem very receptive, but people generally aren’t when I’m sent in to change their methods. Wish you’d pick up your phone. Anyway, I’m on my way to the hotel now, I’ll probably try you again before I go to bed. I know my updates are probably riveting.”

Tuesday, 8:09 p.m.

“Well, I’ve definitely stayed in nicer hotels than this one, but I guess I can’t complain about being put up for free. I’m probably just biased because the a/c unit is busted – oh, my room number is 316, I know you like to have it. I opened the windows to let air in but it’s so dry here that I’m not sure it’s helping any. I’ll shut them before I go to sleep, so don’t worry about that. Call me back, I miss you, don’t worry about waking me up. I think that’s all I’ve got, goodnight, I love you!”

There was a collective sigh in the roundtable room, five agents around the room all looked nervously at each other. No one wanted to be the first person to speak. No one wanted to be the first to propose a theory. “Where’s Spencer?” Emily asked, looking through the voicemail transcripts that were splayed out in front of her.

“In Hotch’s office, they’re talking,” Rossi said, eyeing the photo of you that was being projected up on the screen. Most of the time, Penelope just used driver’s license or passport photos in files, but for you, she had chosen a photo from the last BAU O’Keefe’s outing. Your skin was flushed and there was an odd shadow being cast on your face, but your smile was unmistakable.

The official files would have your driver’s license photo, but that picture was for the BAU. Seemingly unable to peel her eyes off of the screen, JJ asked the question that everyone was sitting on, “We’re on this case, right?”

It felt ridiculous, one of their own had gone missing in the middle of the night and they weren’t even sure if they had the jurisdiction to look into it. When no one answered, Morgan looked around the room, “The brass isn’t seriously going to try to tell us not to investigate.”

“No, they’re not,” Hotch said, suit jacket unbuttoned and fluttering behind him as he walked into the roundtable room with purpose. “We’ll debrief more on the plane, JJ and Garcia will stay here, the rest of us are headed to Dallas,” he instructed, nodding at everyone before turning around and walking out the door, the rest of the team following like ducks in a row.

On the jet, the traveling members of the team watched as Rossi held a cup of coffee out for Spencer to take, but the team's youngest member took a moment to even recognize that it was there, “Oh,” he mumbled, “thank you.” Blinking a haze from his eyes, he took the cup in his shaky hands.

A familiar concern flowed among Spencer’s teammates, they all watched as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger – a nervous habit that usually presented itself when he missed you. “Y/N’s boss is en route to Quantico to talk with JJ, the flight’s about three hours, we should get started,” Hotch was the one to speak up, herding the sheep in the correct direction while everything felt aimless.

With his legs tucked beneath himself, Spencer watched the team as they bounced back and forth in a discussion on what you were doing in Dallas and Penelope scoured through your recent communication.

“According to the voicemails and the hotel records, her room was on the third floor,” Emily spoke up, flipping through the file in front of her. “Do we have crime scene photos from the hotel room yet?”

On the video screen, Penelope shook her head, “CSI is still processing the scene, I have an inquiry in with them to send the photos as soon as they can.”

Checking his watch, Hotch looked over at Spencer, still sequestered on one side of the jet, “Make sure they keep the scene undisturbed for when we arrive. Dave and Morgan will meet with the sheriff at the hotel, and the rest of us will head to the precinct to set up.”

If Spencer wanted to be the one to investigate the crime scene, he didn’t protest his assignment, he just continued to spin that gold band on his finger. He didn’t notice the glances exchanged between the rest of his team; he could only think of you.

With the involvement of the BAU, the team had been redirected to the Dallas Field Office. “There was a hole torn in the window screen, the crime scene techs think that’s how they got inside,” Morgan announced to the team, they were all gathering in the conference room.

“On the third floor?” JJ questioned over video chat, she and Penelope sat right next to each other on the screen.

Rossi nodded, “We must be looking at a team. At least two, likely three UnSub’s in order to pull something like this off. They cut the camera feed and broke into the hotel room where she was staying – this was premeditated.”

It wasn’t difficult to deduce that being taken from the third floor of a hotel meant that you had been a target, but the evidence of a break-in settled like a boulder on Spencer’s chest. Someone had intended to take you. Someone had intended on grabbing you from your hotel room in the middle of the night – and they had succeeded.

“Is there any chance she forgot to close the windows when she went to sleep last night?” Emily looked over at Spencer, dark brows raised quizzically as she leaned over the table, skimming through the voicemail transcripts again.

Clenching his jaw, Spencer shook his head, recalling your promise to close the windows before the end of the night. “No, she’d never forget. She knows I worry,” although, after this, you’d never be able to chide him for worrying too much ever again. Sharing a knowing look with the brunette before him, “So, she’s been missing since last night, not this morning.”

The initial assumption had been that you’d disappeared at some point early in the morning, maybe on your way to your first meeting of the day, no one was entirely sure, but this confirmed that you had been missing for at least eight hours more than the first estimate.

A knock on the door garnered the attention of the team, each of them turning to see a field agent, “Uh, Ezra Buchmann is here to speak with you, he said he got a call from your tech girl.”

Hotch nodded succinctly, “That’s the co-worker who reported the case. Morgan, go see if he needs anything. Dave, let’s go check out the office building that Y/N had been working at.”

“Do you think she might’ve been caught up in something at work?” Spencer asked, following his team members with his eyes as they left the conference room.

The unit chief didn’t provide a forward answer, “I’d like to start checking off some possibilities. It’s been fourteen hours with no firm leads.” It wasn’t as optimistic as anyone had hoped, but Hotch shared a look with Emily before leaving the room.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Spencer turned to the evidence board, looking at the pictures of your hotel room, the water splashed around the rim of the bathroom sink, your phone charging on the bedside table, your wedding ring resting on the counter, and if he separated himself from the missing posters, he could almost convince himself that they were just random pictures. Almost.

Frowning at the blown-up images of partial fingerprints and a random CCTV shot from across the street, he recalled your voicemails. “I wasn’t busy,” he confessed to Emily. “When she called me, I wasn’t busy. I was doing other things, but I wasn’t too busy to answer the phone. I assumed that I’d have the chance to talk to her today,” he said, slightly leaning over the oak table, resting his fingerprints on the varnished surface in an attempt to keep himself standing.

Pursing her lips, Emily took a member for responding, “That’s not an outrageous assumption to make,” she tried to reason with a miserable man. “You’d never think something like this would happen.”

“Until it does,” Spencer continued. “We see it happen to people all the time, we’ve made a life of it, but I never thought it would happen to me. To her,” he maundered. If he had a dollar for every time he had heard the same sentiment from victim’s families, he’d never have to work another day in his life. “I did call her back when I got home last night,” he added, though, he wasn’t entirely sure who he was trying to reassure.

In an effort to comfort him, Emily reached out and patted his arm, “We will find her, Spencer.”

Dead or alive? He wanted to retort, but he bit his tongue, holding it in.

As a favor to him, in the hopes of providing him with some emotional respite, Emily had haggled with the field agent whose name was last on the chain of custody of your belongings. It wasn’t entirely proper for evidence to be released to family, but she offered to put her name on it in the interim.

She stayed with Spencer in the conference room, letting him keep your things nearby as she spoke with JJ and went through the information that had been acquired back at Quantico. The team now had your performance reviews at work and, according to JJ, your boss couldn’t say enough good things about you. While it was nice to hear, it didn’t bring them any closer to finding where you were.

Tracing the woodgrain of the table with his fingertips, Spencer eventually tuned the phone call out, instead wondering at what point he was obligated to call your parents. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice your phone was ringing in the evidence bag before him until Prentiss tapped him on the shoulder.

It was an unknown number, but that was a barrier easily blocked by Garcia with a quick search. The rest of the team watched as she blanched on the screen, “Uh, you might want to answer that.”

“Garcia, who is it?” Hotch asked, a hardened look on his face as he looked from the screen to the buzzing cellphone.

JJ frowned at Penelope’s monitor as if she couldn’t believe what she was reading, “It’s the SEC,” she responded.

Swiftly, Hotch answered the phone call, turning on speakerphone so the rest of the team could hear, “Hello.”

“Hello, may I speak with Mrs. Reid?” A male voice came through the receiver, everyone sharing the same wary look.

Focused on the phone call, Hotch shook his head, “This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, you can speak with me.” He said, elaborating on the situation and rendering the SEC investigator speechless.

Unable to listen to the conversation any longer, Spencer got up, minding his movements as he walked out of the conference room. He checked the map of the building that was posted on the wall before walking up the stairs, making his way up to the roof of the building.

The dry heat of Dallas was about as miserable as everyone made it out to be, but it was hard to ignore the way it reminded him of home. Maybe he could call his mom – speaking with her usually brought him some semblance of peace. Though, she might have a negative reaction to the situation he found himself in. On the hot rubber roofing, he kicked around piles of dirt before leaning against the ledge of the building, craning his head back and closing his eyes when he heard the rooftop door open.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for any sort of discussion right now,” he complained, neglecting to spare a glance at whoever was disturbing his quiet – not exactly an Eden, but quiet.

He recognized Emily by the sound her boots made, even on the rubber that had been softened by the relentless sun, “I’d be more surprised if you were in the mood to talk.”

Impulsively, he rolled his eyes, “Did Hotch put you in charge of me?” He was glad his eyes were still shut, that way he couldn’t see the look on Emily’s face when he sniped at her.

“No,” she responded, gathering his attention as he brought his head down, squinting in the sunlight. “I thought you might want to know what just happened,” she nearly challenged, dark hair gleaming in the daylight.

Mentally kicking himself, he nodded for a moment, “You’re right, I just… I’m sorry.”

Taking a moment, Prentiss walked over, standing next to him, “I know.” She sighed, turning around and taking inventory of the surrounding buildings, “She was sent out here to look at some shady dealings of the company – insider trading, that kind of stuff. The main branch has an investigation open with the SEC, and they have been for the last few months. She was supposed to meet with that Ezra guy this morning to try and work something out. Hotch is talking to the CEO right now, he’s claiming he couldn’t tell JJ because it’s need-to-know,” Emily explained, focusing her eyes on the highway in the distance. “The SEC has an office in Fort Worth, they’re sending some people, and they faxed over all of the files.”

Setting his jaw, Spencer was the first to move to the stairs, the air conditioning providing an instant relief as he strode down the steps with Emily trailing close behind.

A field agent was standing in the middle of the office, stirring a cup of coffee, “Would someone really kidnap a woman over an SEC investigation?”

“We’ve seen much worse for much less,” Spencer mentioned in passing, swerving through the office of people until he made it back to the conference room. “Why would Y/N’s boss send her to investigate something that had already been brought to the SEC?” He posed the question to the rest of the team, taking one of the files that Morgan handed him and reading through the pages.

Rossi shrugged, nodding his head in the direction of the evidence board, “He wanted it handled quietly,” he posited. “Maybe he thought she could negotiate a solution and they could call off the securities investigation.”

Understanding where Spencer was going with his question, Hotch watched the board as if it was all coming together, “But, Y/N had no idea there was an open investigation. This was just another assignment to her.”

You had basically said as much in your voicemails, you went in, and you cleaned up fires across the country, and now you were caught in a blaze. “It was a setup,” Spencer concluded.

“And I know just who you need to talk to,” Garcia said over the phone, typing on her keyboard, “Check your phones.”

Ezra’s assistant folded immediately under the threat of being charged with interfering with a federal investigation. She had no knowledge of what her boss was up to, but she did know where the BAU could find him.

On the edge of the city, your company held an old office building that was slated for demolition. With the information from the assistant and some actions of questionable legality from Garcia, the team was able to nail down Ezra’s location and, hopefully, yours.

Letting SWAT lead the way, Spencer, Emily, and Morgan all made their way up yet another flight of stairs, hoping to be able to find you on the third floor. The SWAT commander signaled with his fingers to direct everyone in their respective directions.

There was a clang from across the floor and everyone froze in place, “Fuck you!” Your voice rang out, reverberating through the mostly empty office space. The yelp that followed would have sent Spencer clambering in your direction if it weren’t for Morgan grabbing his arm in warning. “I didn’t know,” you spoke again, your tone less obstinate as the misery you felt crept in.

Drawing their weapons, the team clung to the wall as SWAT gave orders over comms until the team came into view, lifting their firearms.

In retaliation, Ezra pulled you up, keeping a deadly tight grip on your upper arm as he kept you compliant by pressing the barrel of his gun to your temple. “She told me you’d come,” he said, nearly seething with rage like a rabid animal.

It seemed like a ridiculous moment to feel relief, but the fact that you knew the BAU would come for you ever so slightly lightened the weight on Spencer’s shoulders. However, whatever relief he felt was quickly banished from existence when his eyes met yours, you were covered in blood. It leaked in a steady stream from your nose and down your sleep shirt, he hoped that was the extent of the damage that had been done but based on the evidence of a struggle in the hotel room, he doubted it.

“Y/N, don’t look at him, look at us, look at Spencer,” Emily reasoned, noting the way you looked over at your captor, eyeing the gun in his hand.

You didn’t look scared, not to Spencer, though Emily had reasonably assumed that you would be in this situation. “Y/N, don’t,” Spencer said in a warning.

But his warning came too late, you had already swung your bound hands up, grabbing the weapon from Ezra as you kicked his legs out from under him. If Spencer hadn’t been so worried, he would’ve been impressed, but now he found himself in an entirely different situation.

“The safety’s still on,” you chastised as your now shaking hands undid the small latch, settling your pointer finger on the trigger as you stared him down.

SWAT seemed entirely dumbfounded, not sure how to go about the admittedly unique situation, so, it fell upon your husband to talk you down. Slowly, he holstered his weapon and stepped toward you, “Baby, put the gun down.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, “He set me up, Spence”

“I know, darling, I know,” Spencer said breathlessly, holding his hands out to stop any and all movement in the warehouse. “This isn’t the answer though, okay? You know this isn’t the answer.”

Your hands didn’t stop shaking, still bound together by the flex cuffs on your wrists as you narrowed your eyes at Ezra. “He set me up,” your voice broke at the sheer memory of the betrayal.

Distantly, you heard Derek tell people to lower their weapons, convincing the field agents that you weren’t a threat. “This isn’t you,” Spencer insisted.

Blinking as tears fell from your eyes, you gripped the handle of the gun, leaving your pointer finger hovering precariously on the trigger. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer.

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at Ezra, who was taunting you, trying to get you to pull the trigger. You fought against yourself, trying not to stare at Spencer because you knew as soon as you met his brown eyes, the choice would be made for you.

“Pull the damn trigger,” Ezra jeered, baring his teeth at you. This was it; this was the end. The FBI had the whole building surrounded. Even if he tried to run, the BAU would follow him, they’d chase him down, and they’d kill him themselves if it came down to it.

Slowly, you moved your thumb, re-engaging the safety before you lowered your arms, handing the gun off to Spencer. As he grabbed the barrel of the gun with one hand, he pulled you in with the other, passing the gun off to Emily so he could hug you tightly.

He pulled away for a moment, retrieving a pocketknife and using it to cut the flex cuffs from your wrists, letting the stiff plastic fall to the ground, and catching you when you practically threw your arms around him.

Your legs gave out from under you, and Spencer wondered how long you had been in this sweltering building without water, likely having used the last of your strength to stop Ezra. “Shh,” he hushed gently, “Let’s sit down,” he spoke to only you as he guided you to the ground.

Closer to you now, he saw more of the damage that had been done, the glazed look over your eyes, your chapped lips, and a bruise on the side of your head. “I knew you’d come,” you murmured dazedly, swaying ever so slightly, “I told him you’d come.”

“I know, I know,” Spencer reassured you, listening to the buzzing of people, hopefully EMTs, around you.

A hiccupping sob almost broke his heart, but he just kept his hold on you, keeping you upright and wishing your nosebleed would clot. “I almost killed him,” you mumbled.

But you didn’t, he wanted to respond. Part of him felt like it would’ve been fine if you had. You’d have gotten away with it, even, but he knew firsthand what it felt like to take another life. He wanted to believe that he had played a part in you turning the safety back on, but even he wasn’t sure.

“How are you feeling? Better?” Spencer asked, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed and taking your hand in his.

He squeezed your hand gently, allowing you to admire the way your wedding ring looked now that it had been returned to its rightful home. “Much,” you assured him, keeping your head resting on the mountain of pillows behind you. You had been cleaned up, stitches on your forehead, and a bandaged cut on your thigh, but the main concern was your dehydration. An IV delivered fluids to you while you sipped on a cup of water, waiting for your stomach to settle enough for you to eat something.

Spencer raised his eyebrows, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “Good enough to try something for dinner?”

You nodded apprehensively, “Something light?”

The smile that sprouted on his face was enough to convince you to eat. He offered to go talk to your nurse, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he left the room, leaving the door open so you could see him in the hallway.

A small chime got your attention, looking around for the source of the noise, you found yourself digging through Spencer’s bag, retrieving your cell phone from the leather satchel.

There was a scratch over the screen, but it still worked just fine following your skirmish in the hotel, you opened the phone to find that you had a voicemail. You tapped the message before bringing the phone to your ear.

Tuesday, 10:23 p.m.

“Hey love, I’m just leaving the office now. I’m sure they’ll be more receptive to you as you talk more, you can be very convincing. The weather is very dry in Texas, make sure you keep hydrated, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your calls, we’ve been trying to prepare all of this paperwork for Strauss and time just got away from us. I miss you, maybe when you get home, we could talk about taking a trip. We could go see my mom. It’s been a while. Hm… I have to admit, I’m a little bummed you didn’t answer the phone, but I’m glad you’re getting sleep. I love you so much, sleep well.”

[streamdotpng]

Wait

Addition to the blanket au

What if

The nightshades are aware that Wednesday is dating someone? The bruises that line her throat is obvious and it wasn't like Wednesday was trying to hide it.

Even when asked, Wednesday didn't blink. "yes, I do have a paramour."

It makes them think at times, what kind of person is Wednesday Addams dating?

A serial killer? One offers and the others ooo's and aaa's in agreement before hoping that wasn't the case

A mobster! Another says and yoko thinks of someone with tattoos immediately. It could be her thing

Arranged marriage? Someone conspiring whispers. It got shot down real quick because wednesday didn't have a ring and they're damn sure Wednesday would go all black widow on them

Anyways, there were rumors and gossip between the group of who Wednesday's paramour was but the moment they met her elusive blanket monster of a roommate, their thoughts got occupied

But a few weeks have passed and the shock of a growling blanket isn't so startling, the group talked about what Enid did for a living

As they tossed ideas around, they can't help but realize that wait a sec

.. These are the same assumptions they've made for wednesday secret lover

Are they perhaps one in the same!?? I mean, it'd make sense. With how easily Wednesday slips into covered arms and didn't seem so bothered at the bigger woman's touch.

They're dating!!!

But still, it didn't stop them from wondering just what did Enid do

They never did get an answer, until a black supercar waited outside of their campus gate. There were a few other students waiting sround, some even taking pictures but it isn't until Wednesday (and in turn the nightshades) was sighted does a door open and a blond with squared sunglasses step out.

Oh god, who was she? A model?

Their eyes draw to the scars on her cheek and that thought went elsewhere. Maybe a bodyguard? They know that Wednesday was rich but rich enough to need a bodyguard?

Or maybe, they hoped with anticipating eyesm, this was Enid?

Like she's sure that blond hair was similar to the mop hidden under layers of cloth. It was hard to know much about Enid but they know that she's a light tanned lady with blue eyes and blond hair.

"Wednesday!" she calls out and the lowkey broke college students reel over what she wore. Dressed to the tens in shades of black and grey, the suited woman walked around the car meet them halfway.

This..

The nightshades look at each other in panic. This wasn't Enid! Sure they were both blond but maybe Wednesday has a type.

"what're you doing here?" Wednesday asks and the nightshades were given a front row view to the way her jaw tenses and a tinge of color form on her ears.

Yeah nope, that's the lover alright.

Yoko sends her prayers to Enid. With how overprotective the wereblanket was, she's sure that there were some feelings involved. She prays that her girlie (they haven't talked at all) handles this well

A cheeky grin was Wednesday's answer as the blond twirled the car keys in her finger. "well yeah but lunch with Mr dad ended early so I thought I could pick you up!" those brows furrowed before the smile turned into something a bit more softer "unless you'd like to walk home?"

"No, I dont-" Wednesday mutters, her head ducking and is that blush growing!? "You didn't have to do this, I know that you must be tired."

Blond bodyguard(?) laughs and with the keys of a way too fancy car inbetween her fingers, she tilted Wednesday's head up.

"chin up, 'day. You know I could never be tired of you." it takes Wednesday nodding before blondie stands back. the college students immediately straighten their back as a stare was leveled onto them. "I also wanted to meet your friends! I haven't been able to get a clear look at them after all."

Bianca blinked, ignoring the way Wednesday grumbles a 'not my friends' to ask a question that popped into their heads. "excuse me? I don't think we met."

"... Did we not?" the blond wonders and she looks at wednesday before scratching her head and looking back at them. "you're swordfish lady right?"

Bianca's brows twitch. "swordfish lady?"

A smile grows as she snaps her fingers in remembrance. "yeah! Because you fence with Wednesday and you're a siren so I thought itd fit."

"you have such... A way with names," swordfish lady grits out as yoko barges in with a hand raised.

"what about me!?"

Blondie rubs her finger on her chin before she points with an aha! "yolks!"

Yoko blinks. ".. Like the egg?"

Blondie nods, her smile wide and clearly enthusiastic. Wednesday is standing right beside her, giving her usual side eye but staring with an affection she usually only held for Enid.

Rip enid, imagine losing your crush to someone who lowkey looks like you.

"Enid, we're wasting daylight," Wednesday calls out and Enid startles back.

The now named Enid panics, flustering an oh shoot! As she removed her sunglasses to reveal those familiar blue eyes before passing it over to Wednesday.

"it was nice talking to you guys!" Enid calls out and before the nightshades know it, the duo were gone. Wednesday having been ushered onto her seat with Enid closing it behind before hopping in and zooming away.

"did Wednesday just say Enid?" Eugene asks.

Ajax blinks. "did Enid mention having lunch with Wednesday's dad?"

Xavier sighs, a hand on his face. There went his chances. "maybe we should revisit the arranged marriage idea..."

[p-sherman-42]

10/10/24

Dear N,

It feels pointless to even write these anymore. It's just that this is all I have left of you. And I don't know why I can't just let you go. It feels like you died, or something. It feels like you died and this whole campus is haunted by your ghost.

The unfortunate truth is that I think something inside of me is missing. The hole was there before I met you, but you filled it, for a while. And though you didn't really fit, I chipped away at the surrounding area to make you fit. And I held you there with tape and paste and bandages like hope and I held onto you so tightly--so desperately--and I think I may have squeezed you too tightly. I drove you away, didn't I? I was so busy for so long trying to turn you into a villain, into something I could hate, that I completely absolved myself of any responsibility. I smothered you, didn't I?

It was my own fault I didn't get to know you as well as I would've liked. I hardly asked you questions because I was afraid of making you feel like you were being interrogated, and I was so afraid of overstepping. I was selfish. I was immature. I was so preoccupied with the idea of you that I neglected the real you. I made everything about me, didn't I? And I attacked you with accusations and bitter, frigid indifference when you couldn't live up to my expectations, my preconceived notions of what love should be.

I'm sorry.

I'm sitting at my old pondering spot by the water. No headphones this time. No you. I'm listening to the traffic bustling over the bridge, the lethargic lapping of the water against the shoreline, the rattling of rocks under feet. There's two ducks bobbing together in the shallows. A male and a female. I'm watching the rowing team go by. I'm watching a man hurl a tree branch into the water for his dog (I think it's a collie) to fetch. I was listening to Mew on the walk down here, thinking about that story you told me about the concert you went to in the rain.

I miss you.

Maybe... when I graduate, I'll reach out. Maybe by then I'll be ready to be just friends. But not yet. I can't risk any distractions. It's stupid, to think that you'd even still want to talk to me at all after all of this. It's even more stupid to think that you'd be waiting for me, that you'd even remember me.

Maybe by then you will have forgotten all about me. I'm hoping I will have forgotten about you by then. I'm sorry, but it's better that way. For the both of us.

But if my feelings still have not changed by then, maybe I can give it a try. I just need to hold out until June.

I know it's selfish, but please wait for me... please.

I love you. I miss you. And I love you, and I fear that I will never stop loving you.

Yours, always and forever, M♡

P.S. Sorry that I signed you up for the Scientology email list... I couldn't help myself. It seemed like a good idea at the time. You have to admit it is pretty funny though

[dykeomania]

ik this is very off topic from what u usually talk about but if you’ve watched wakanda forever, how do u feel about shuri and would u consider writing for her?👀

Feel free to completely ignore this, love your work😌🫶🏼

pulls down my microphone

yes i have seen wakanda forever

yes i cried (you deadass didn't ask)

i love shuri. i found it super meaningful how they portrayed her grief and gave her a bit of a villain arc because of it, i really liked it. but the thing is that like, i feel like the only character that i have mastered in terms of personality and such is definitely ellie. and i'm a creature of habit and comfort, so like, one thing about me is that when i know im super good at something, because it feels nice to know that i can fall back on that. but this is usually for things that aren't in.. like.. a creative context ykwim. and it's taken me a little bit of time to realize that. i think that i wouldn't be opposed to writing for other people. i think it may help to break things up because i actually think that a lack of like hyper-familiarity with a character mayyyy beeee pretty comforting as opposed to nervewracking since there is that lesser pressure (that i put on myself) of making sure that everything is on brand whereas with alternate characters, like shuri, that pressure doesn't really exist and i can just throw that bitch Lovely Woman into scenarios and see what works and what doesn't. so. i think! i think the answer to your question is maybe possibly. im not sure. with my schedule and all of the shit ive got knocking around in my head, i can't make any promises. but i think once i get all of my ducks in a row, i wouldnt really be opposed to writing for people who i dont really know like the back of my hand

[100dayproductivity]

28/100.

Oh boy. Need to regroup. Need to get thoughts out of head.

Outline:

Procrastination

Bullet journaling (BuJo)

Tiredness

Urban homesteading

(I'm just starting out this post as a rough draft so I don't think about it too much. Sometimes thinking is an obstacle to doing!)

Procrastination

Main points:

Been procrastinating A LOT again lately.

Need to look into why.

Usually, for me, procrastination means I'm feeling overwhelmed. Why am I feeling overwhelmed? I'm not sure. Will circle back to this. Let's keep going.

Another reason I procrastinate is because I'm avoiding an unpleasant task. What is the unpleasant task I'm avoiding? Honestly, all I can think of is the dishes. Well, not specifically the dishes, just chores in general. I'm so bored of it. Zero motivation to work towards making my home pleasant (which is basically my main goal currently).

But I was doing so well just a couple of weeks ago! I was on fire 🔥🔥🔥 What happened? Not sure. Let's come back to this.

Bullet Journaling (BuJo)

I started my first bullet journal last month. It was working out great! I felt so inspired! And I was getting so much done. And I felt so organized and efficient. I haven't touched it in weeks, though. What happened?

I think I know what happened. Eye surgery happened. (I had cataract surgery.) Leading up to the surgery, I was so nervous and had so many things to keep track of to get ready for it. The bullet journaling really helped me get all my ducks in a row and not forget anything important. It was such a useful tool! But post-surgery, my eyes needed time to adjust. The eye that had the surgery needed to rest and heal. The one that didn't have the surgery needed to learn how to work with the new eye. I still need to wear a contact lens in that eye, and can no longer wear glasses when I take the contact out. I can't really do any reading or writing once I take that contact lens out at night. And with the contact lens in, everything was really wonky at first. Walking outside and looking in the distance made me dizzy.

So because of all this wonky eyesight stuff, I didn't want to do any more reading or writing than necessary. So I put the bullet journal aside. I didn't have anything important coming up that I needed to keep track of, just my schedule, which is in my phone calendar.

Well, my eyesight is still a bit wonky, but definitely much better now. I pretty much read and write and use my phone as normal now. So there's no excuse to not use the bullet journal again.

But now that weeks have passed it's hard to get back into it. Why? Maybe because I feel like I've failed with it. But I really shouldn't feel that way! Just because I haven't used it in nearly a month doesn't mean I can't use it again now!

Maybe it's also hard to get back into because I'm dreading writing down all the stuff I should have been doing but haven't done. Where's the sense in that, though? Just because I don't write things down doesn't mean I don't have to do them! Also, I've been getting plenty of things done without the bullet journal!

So that begs the question: do I really need the journal? Do I feel like it's a waste of time to write things down if I manage to get them done anyway?

Well, the thing is, yes, I am managing to get things done without the bullet journal. But I've also forgotten things several times before I finally remembered to do them. It probably takes up mental energy to keep forgetting and remembering and forgetting and saying to myself, "Geez! I forgot about that again!" I also have a feeling there's things I've forgotten about that I haven't remembered. Like sending out my monthly invoices. I only realized I forgot because a client asked me, "Hey, just checking, did you send me an invoice?" What else have I not realized I'm forgetting about? There's low level anxiety associated with feeling like maybe you're forgetting something important. Again, an energy drain.

Furthermore, bullet journaling is not simply a to-do list. From what I understand, it's a practice that helps you organize your life. It's a record of past events and activities to look back on and a method of planning for the future. It's a practice that can help you get clarity and insight into your method to the madness, to see what areas of your life may need attention or tweaking. To see the bigger picture, not just your to-do list for today. To see the patterns you fall into, like going down a YouTube rabbit hole instead of doing the dishes, and then wondering why you just cannot seem to achieve a clean and tidy house. Just as an example. No reason. Completely hypothetical.

Truth be told, I have been feeling really discombobulated this past week. Really antsy, just itching to get something done, but physically tired at the same time, just wanting to sit and rest and scroll my phone. I want to go fast and slow at the same time. I think going back to using the bullet journal may help me get off my hamster wheel, and calm down and be efficiently productive again.

Tiredness

Which brings us to my next point: tiredness. I have just been feeling sooo low energy this past week or two. I especially feel it when I'm walking up the street, in the direction away from the lake. The ground elevation gradually increases going in that direction, but it's ever so gradual you normally wouldn't even notice it. I've never really noticed it before. But lately, on some days, especially if I'm carrying a backpack or groceries, I feel like I'm just barely trudging uphill. (It's worth noting that, although I am middle-aged, I am not overweight and relatively fit and healthy, so there is no good reason that I should be struggling with walking up a slight incline). Here are my thoughts on why I might be feeling such low energy:

Lack of sleep

Low vitamin D

Wonky eyesight

Poor nutrition

Lack of sleep

First and foremost, I have not been getting enough hours of sleep. No two ways about it. The main problem is I don't go to bed at a reasonable hour. This is an ongoing struggle for me. This is a huge habit I would like to change. But I keep falling back into the same patterns.

I was doing really well with going to bed at a reasonable time up until my eye surgery. That's because I shut off devices and read in bed. But now, because I can no longer wear glasses once I take the one contact lens out for the night, it's kind of difficult to read in bed. I need to figure something out. Because watching YouTube videos on my phone before bed is not working for me.

Low vitamin D

Where I live, it's recommended that people take Vitamin D supplements during the winter months. I generally do, BUT, I was told to stop taking all vitamins and supplements prior to my eye surgery. I just haven't got back into the habit of taking them. So this is an easy fix.

Wonky eyesight

I need to cut myself some slack. My brain has been working VERY HARD trying to adjust to one vision-corrected eye and one in a contact lens part of the time and just seeing everything fuzzy the other part. It is very tiring. I need to remember that this is exhausting my brain and my eyes, even if it doesn't seem like it should be a big deal. I actually have my one month follow up appointment tomorrow, and hopefully I'll get the green light to have surgery scheduled for my other eye soon thereafter. Once both my eyes are corrected, I should be feeling less tiredness from my brain and eyes working so hard. I just need to be patient.

Poor nutrition

Okay, that sounds a bit harsh. I actually eat a lot healthier than the average person, probably. But I consume a lot more sugar than I used to. Pretty sure I have a sugar addiction. The thing is, if I have food prepared and ready to eat, then I eat very healthy. The problem is when I drop the ball with food prep and find myself hungry with nothing ready to eat. Then I just stuff my face with whatever, which isn't always the best choice. Usually it involves sugary foods. Which gives me an energy spike, but then I crash. The sugar binges are not helping with the low energy.

The other thing is, I'm pretty sure I've hit perimenopause, which means changes to my body and metabolism. I can't eat crap like I used to and get away with it. Well actually, come to think of it, one of the symptoms of perimenopause is tiredness and low energy. So there you have it. Mystery solved. I feel tired because I'm perimenopausal. That was an easy revelation.

But back to the nutrition: if I'm organized, then I always have nutritious food ready to eat when I'm hungry. The bullet journaling really helped me keep on top of food prep. So if I bullet journal I'll be more organized about food, which will lead to better food choices, which will mitigate tiredness... See how it's all interconnected?

Urban Homesteading

This has nothing to do with anything, except that I'm interested in the urban homesteading trend right now, so it's on my ADHD mind a lot lately. ("Wooh, another shiny new thing to add to all my other shiny new things!")

I'm not sure how I came across it, but suddenly last week I was looking it up and downloading podcasts about "how to get started". And as I learned more about it, I realized I'm already doing it.

(If you don't know what homesteading is, it's a lifestyle where you have some land out in the country where you can grow most of the food you need to survive plus make a lot of your own household items and produce your own energy with things like solar panels--basically be über self-sufficient. So "urban homesteading" is a smaller scale version of that, where you endeavour to live as self-sufficiently as you can within the context of a city. So you're not going to have acres of crops and cows and chickens, but maybe you have enough space in your yard for a summer vegetable garden. That sort of thing.)

So anyway, there's lots of homestead-y things you can do as a city-dweller. And one of the main things everyone seems to have at the top of their lists is preparing most of your meals from scratch, whether or not you grow the ingredients yourself. So making meals from scratch is something I started to learn how to do decades ago and keep getting better at. The thing is, this is one of the things I often get sick of doing--the constant and never-ending meal prep cycle: shop for food, prepare food, eat food, clean up after food, repeat. I'm not one of those people that enjoys cooking; I just do it because I enjoy eating. But seeing that it's one of the main ways you can become an "urban homesteader" got me kind of motivated. It's almost a kind of gamification for me, seeing how I can spend the least amount of money and waste the least amount of food. I think I've been feeling burnt out with the kitchen chores lately. I need some inspo, and maybe "urban homesteading" is the inspo I need.

Insights

Right. So let's tie it all together.

I mentioned at the beginning of the post that maybe I'm procrastinating so much lately because I'm feeling overwhelmed, but I'm not sure by what. Well, obviously, by ALL THE THINGS. There's just always so many things. And I think the bullet journaling was helping me manage All The Things, so I need to start bullet journaling again.

I also mentioned that I've been avoiding the kitchen chores lately because it's just blah. No motivation. So bored of it. I need to get inspired. And maybe my newest hobby, urban homesteading, is that little spark I need.

Once I get motivated in the kitchen again, I will eat better, because I'll be better organized with meal prep. Not only that, but I find that, for me, getting organized in the kitchen leads to getting organized in the rest of my life. And the opposite is true too--when the kitchen is in chaos, I become discombobulated in general. And discombobulation leads to overwhelm. And overwhelm leads to procrastination. See how it's all interconnected?

So what's my plan of action?

Start bullet journaling again. Approach it like it's brand new to me again.

Start with the basic daily "kitchen spiral" again. (My kitchen routine that moves in a "spiral" starting with clearing off the drying rack, moving clean dishes from dishwasher to drying rack, moving dirty dishes from counter to dishwasher, then moving to the top shelf of the fridge to start food prep.) I will have better nutrition, which will help mitigate the tiredness.

Part of getting organized in the kitchen involves refilling my medication dispenser with Vitamin D. That will help with the tiredness.

Once I get back on track with the kitchen and nutrition, I will start to have more energy and more productive days. Then maybe my sleep will get back on track too.

But right now I'm sooo sleepy. Going to post this and have a little nap. 😴

[troublesomecousin]

"I don't think those frigid bitches like much of anything," Kevin replied, his smile lingering but smaller now as he watched her. She really did seem...well, maybe not nice, but she definitely seemed to have all of her marbles in a row. Or was that ducks? Whatever, it didn't matter. "Unfortunately, the pick of the guys around here isn't exactly stellar. My standards are gonna have to get fuckin' abysmal if I wanna catch up on all the profaning against God my kind is supposed to get up to."

He can't help but laugh at her question, predictable as it was, and of course, it wasn't like he could give any sort of answer that didn't sound like an excuse. He wouldn't deny that there was reason to be cautious of him, his file was full of examples of his poor conduct, but from the impression he was getting, Violet wasn't on his shortlist for any outburst.

There were absolutely a number of people well ahead of her, so really, there was no threat...probably.

"That's what they call it, but if you ask me, every person whose nose I broke definitely provoked me. Maybe my threshold is lower than it ought t'be, but that's not 'unprovoked'." He shrugged, unwilling to feel any sort of shame for his behavior. Though, that was likely why he still rotting away in here as opposed to rotting comfortably at home. "But you don't gotta worry, girly. They've got me medicated up to my balls. I'm not even sure I can feel anger anymore, so you're perfectly safe."

Kevin leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands in his lap. "Surprised you'd be worried about something like that. Girls like you usually go for bad boys. The danger's part of the package."

'THAT'S FUCKED' WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. Everything about the last couple years of her life was fucked and it only kept getting worse. She wished that she had been kept in the dark about her dad's affair, but instead, she had to keep hearing her mom screaming from down the hall about how she couldn't sleep in the same bed her husband fucked his student in. It made her sick, like she could literally vomit. That wasn't when the self-harm started but it didn't get any better after that. Their marriage was fucked and they thought moving to California was going to help. So why did everything continue falling apart? Her mom had already threatened another divorce when she found out she was pregnant.

Then there was Tate . . .

Violet tried sinking further back against the chair she was sitting in, drawing her legs up until her knees pressed against her chest. She wasn't going to think about Tate right now. She wasn't going to think about what she found out and what made her swallow those pills until she saw black. She took a long drag of her cigarette. He was talking about himself now, a welcome distraction from having to think about her shit.

❝ Yeah, I don't think the uptight nuns are gonna like that very much. ❞ Violet offered up a tiny smile to let him know she was only kidding. She guessed any bit of lighthearted humor in this place was better than none and hopefully he didn't take it the wrong way that it was at the expense of his sexuality. ❝ Unprovoked violence. You're not going to attack me, are you? ❞

[devildomimagines]

Could you do the brothers (Lucifer especially) reacting to an MC who jokes all the time, seems carefree and stupid but eventually they find out that MC is actually a very deeply caring, responsible and intelligent person. They act like an idiot likely as a response to some adversity in their own past. Sorry if its complicated, i just like the idea of the brothers almost discounting MC only to realise they weren't looking deeply enough

Hi Anon! Thanks for the request! Sorry it took me so long to get to, it's been busy in my personal life. The older brothers are under the cut so this post isn’t a mile long lol. I hope this is worth the wait!

Belphegor

King of rolling his eyes at your antics.

Belphie is maybe the most knowledgeable about humans so, of anyone, he might be able to see a little deeper than the surface.

On one of the rare occasions you got Belphie out of the house, you two came across a Little D that was clearly lost.

He didn’t pay it any mind since he figured the Little D would just teleport to their master but you insisted on helping.

As you knelt down to the creature Belphie stood back and watched as you quickly soothed the Little D’s worries and it hopped into your arms. 

You brushed past Belphie to carry the spirit across the street and start talking to the shop owner. The two of you laughed and Little D hopped over to the shop owner’s hands.

“The shop keeper knows that Little D’s master and will give them a call,” you explained as you wrapped your arm around his and began leading him down the road.

“You’re amazing MC,” Belphie murmured, such a small act really changed his view of you.

Where he thought you were foolish in trusting him after what happened in the attic, he realized that he wasn’t a special case of forgiveness, you were just a truly caring person. 

“Hm, what was that Belphie?” You asked but he wasn’t sure if you actually didn’t hear him or if you were teasing.

He wasn’t too proud to admit his feelings but his face did heat up a bit, “I said you���re amazing.”

Beelzebub

He’s pretty caring for a demon so he could see you were too, although maybe he didn’t know the depth until today.

The two of you were enjoying a meal in Hell’s Kitchen. Beel was absorbed in the food that he didn’t at first notice you were distracted.

When you asked for a moment and got up to grab the attention of a waiter. Beel watched on curiously, he was hoping you were asking for more food.

The waiter nodded along and ducked into the kitchen. You waited in that spot and you caught Beel’s stare. You waved at him with a smile.

He waved back with a fried shadow bat in hand.

You laughed and then the waiter was back. They handed you a to-go container, you talked for a second, probably thanking them and then made your way across the restaurant, walking right past your table.

Beel thought to call out to you as if you had somehow accidentally overshot the table but you made your way right out the door.

He started to get up to go after you, he shoveled a few things in his mouth not totally satisfied but more confused why you were leaving.

Then he saw you through the window. He stopped moving as you approached a small demon looking into the restaurant through the window. Beel sat and watched the scene unfold.

It jumped back away from you, probably not having seen a human before, and was clearly defensive as you talked. You then offered the to-go container, popping it open so the demon could see the food contained.

The little demon inched closer, clearly hungry and tempted by the food you offered. You nodded and the demon took the container and ran. You watched for a second and then came back into the restaurant to join Beel.

You sat down like nothing had happened and went back to your meal. When Beel didn’t start eating you asked,  “What is it? Do I have something on my face!?”

He shook his head no, “You’re incredible.” He picked back up eating but he would not forget this moment.

Asmodeus

You watched on as Asmo was applying his make-up. He always enjoys your company when preparing for the day but he noted you were reading the ingredients pretty seriously.

“What’s got you frowning MC?” 

“This is from the human realm, right?” you held up the bottle so he could see the label in the mirror.

He hummed, “That’s right, I get products from all over so that one is definitely from the human realm. Have you used it before?”

“Um, no I tended to stay away from their brand.” You put the bottle back where you found it.

“Why’s that? It is kind of expensive in Grimm, was it the same in your currency?”

“Not really, it’s just that…” you paused trying to think of the most sensitive way to put it, “there are make-up brands in the human realm that test their products on animals before marketing it to humans.”

“How cute!” Asmo giggled at the thought of bunnies in blush.

“No Asmo, it’s more like they are testing if their products are safe for humans by using animals as a proxy. It can be brutal and even unnecessary and could result in the animal’s death.”

Asmo had stopped and turned to look at you as you explained. His face was slightly troubled.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I just tried to use products that didn’t use that as a part of their process in manufacturing so as to not cause any unnecessary distress.”

He nodded understanding your thought process. The Devildom didn’t have such markers since suffering was the norm.

The fact that you were thinking about what products you used and their impact on others, even just some animals, had him reassessing you.

It was more thoughtful than he originally credited you. When you and him were joking around and gossiping, he figured your interests were more superficial.

It was refreshing that not only could you keep up with the most recent hot news around town but you truly cared and respected your impact on others.

“Asmo?” You asked, he had been quiet for a while lost in thought.

“It’s nothing!” He recovered but he kept peeking back at you with a mysterious smile.

Satan

The two of you were studying in the RAD library.

There was a particularly tough exam coming up, notorious for dropping the GPA of 75% off the class.

Satan was confident in his abilities but he agreed to come study for your sake. He didn’t have access to know your grade like Lucifer did but he assumed you were struggling by your pleas for his help and deprecating jokes about failing.

He watched as you diligently took out your books and notebook. You flipped through a few of your notes and then shifted your focus to your textbook. Satan shrugged as he opened his own books, you seemed to be off to a fine start.

After about an hour you asked, “Can we quiz each other?”

He agreed and flipped to the end of the chapter he was on for the review questions. Satan took a question and asked it in a slightly different way so you couldn’t rely on memorized answers. 

To his surprise you answered correctly and made up a question for him that he thought was actually pretty difficult. 

Of course he got it right but shrugged it off as a fluke that you didn’t mean to ask such a hard question. The next one he asked you was harder, not from the textbook in any way, it was something that the teacher had mentioned offhand in class.

You got it correct again. With your turn next, you asked another complex question.

Satan answered properly but was now on the edge of his seat, surely twice in a row was not a coincidence.

His next question, he matched your difficulty. You thought for a few minutes and dived into explanation with examples and even a source that you quoted off the top of your head. Your answer was insightful and succinct.

You were waiting for Satan’s assessment of your answer but he sat unmoving.

“Was I mistaken?” You asked, and started frantically looking through your notes.

While you reviewed your materials, Satan was seeing you in a new light. He figured you got along so well with Mammon because the two of you could joke and slack off with the best of them. He thought that you and Asmo got along more as a pair of airheads. But here you were, in this moment your intelligence came off as easy and effortless.

“No, you were right.”

“Really?” you looked up surprised but happy.

He smiled back, but wondered, “What is your current grade in this class, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Last I checked, like 96?”

Satan laughed and shook his head, unbelievable that he thought otherwise.

Leviathan

He already thought of himself as a charity case. The fact that you would be willing to sacrifice your time to be with him was a miracle in his eyes.

No matter how many times you told him you wanted to hang out with him, it wasn’t a sacrifice, he still didn’t believe you.

When he gets more comfortable around you, he let’s you see his uglier sides when the envy consumes him.

You were a safe space he could vent to and you took that responsibility seriously. You listened and he felt the things he shared never left his room when you left.

It was after one of those vent/gaming sessions that you had to excuse yourself.

You had never gotten up in the middle like that and it scared Levi, had he gone too far? Did you actually hate him?

He watched silently as you left the room. Once the door closed, he was on his feet, what was so important? He decided to follow you.

Levi followed about a hallway behind you, as you turned a corner he would sprint to the corner to watch where you go next.

He followed all the way to the kitchen? He didn’t want to peek in fear of being caught but he listened as you greeted Beel.

Beel asked what’s up and you answered you were getting snacks for an intense gaming night with Levi. Beel must have perked up with the snacks you grabbed and you shooed him off, “If Levi’s up for it, you can join us but you can’t have that snack, I made it for a special occasion.”

Special… special? Levi couldn’t wrap his head around it when he thought of himself but the silence in the kitchen meant you must be leaving… meaning you were heading right for the door he was cupping!

He turned around and found a hiding spot on the other side of the hall behind a vase.

The door swung open as he held his breath. You started the way you came. You were heading for his room and he wasn’t there!

Cue montage of Levi comically running through the halls of HOL to get to his room before. He jumps into his gaming chair seconds before you open his door quietly.

He was panting and sweaty when he turned towards you with a smile, totally failing to act natural.

“Sorry I got up so abruptly but I just remembered I made you this!” You presented a cupcake exactly replicated from the anime the two of you watched last week.

Levi’s heart melted, he felt bad that he had second guessed you. He reached out for the cupcake with one hand and with the other he took your hand to pull you to the bean bags. He was blushing but still said, “Let’s put on that anime while I eat it.”

The level of detail that you had gotten correct showed how dedicated you had been to paying attention to his interests and how much you cared for him in turn. He was also impressed with your baking knowledge, it takes a decent level of skill to be able to replicate something just from seeing it.

The scene was coming up where the protag was going to give the cupcake and Levi was struck with the most embarrassing thought. But if anyone would indulge him, it was you.

As the protag took the cupcake, Levi copied their posture. Then he copied their words in unison they both said, “Thank you, no one has ever made me anything like this before.” The two of them ripped the cupcake in half in the same spot and he extended the half to you as he protag did, “Will you share it with me?”

“Of course!” You and the character answered together then giggled as Levi blushed and hid behind the half cupcake as the two of you returned to sitting on the beanbags.

There was no way he was ever going to forget this moment, his eyes opened to how much you did care for him. Even if he was doubtful of others by nature, he would never doubt you again.

Mammon

People always write Mammon off as dumb and because you have a pact with him, you’re often included in that assumption. The two of you get along like peas in a pod. You’re here for a good time and Mammon can definitely provide that. 

His schemes to make money keep things interesting so you usually go along unless you have other commitments. Today’s work was clean-up in the local park. Not because it was lucrative, but because this was a punishment from a prank that backfired.

You had pleaded with Diavolo for a lighter sentence on Mammon’s behalf as his pact partner and Diavolo indulged you.

Mammon was brooding on your way to the park but you were looking forward to being outside in nature for the day so you chattered aloud to fill the silence.

Barbatos was waiting for you two with the materials you would need. He gave you a look of pity when you turned but Mammon caught it and knew Barbatos was probably feeling sorry you had to be punished when you didn’t do anything. Mammon ripped the rake out of Barbatos’ hand and sulked off after you.

You each set to different tasks, Mammon raking leaves and you weeding the flowerbeds. 

Demons and spirits passed with a few snickers, definitely not the first time Mammon had been sent to do community service but he hated that you were now a laughing stock with him. You didn’t seem phased by it though, even flashing him a bright smile when you two made eye contact. 

Halfway through the day, the two of you were taking a break for a snack and fluids, you shared a bench and admired the work so far. “We might even finish early!” You shared your optimism.

Mammon nodded but still kept quiet. It was so unlike him and you were hitting your limits of how to try to get him out of his own head, you figured he would be back to normal tomorrow but missed hearing his voice.

You two split the last of the duties, you were now cleaning equipment and decorations while he was trimming bushes and trees.

While Mammon was trimming a nearby bush, he heard your voice, then heard his name. He peeked through the bush to watch you talking with a crow.

“I thought it would make the day more fun if I was here with him because he always makes me have fun but it’s like I’ve made his mood worse…” You looked down at the bird bath you had been polishing and knelt down. The crow watched your movements from it’s perch on the top. “Maybe he hates that I intervened with Diavolo, I probably overstepped. I don’t know what I can do to get Mammon out of this funk. What do you think?”

The crow outstretched it’s wings and took off. You pouted, but continued polishing. Mammon was about to push through the bushes to comfort you, his mood wasn’t your fault and he felt even worse that you thought that but then the crow returned.

It swooped onto your shoulder and dropped something into your hand. You jumped with surprise and it scared the crow off your shoulder, it resettled on the bird bath. “This is perfect! Thank you!” The crow let you give it a few scritches and took off once more. You looked around for Mammon.

He nonchalantly rounded the bush so you would notice him, “Mammon! Look!” You rushed over and handed him the object.

It was a golden grimm coin. You explained, “A crow gave it to me, that has to be good luck! Take it and your luck will change, you won’t be punished forever!”

He wrapped you in a tight hug. What did he do to deserve you? Why did you care about him so deeply that you’d give him your treasure and good luck?

You laughed into his hug and he pulled back, “Alright, let’s finish this up and go home, I’ll treat ya to some ice cream on the way back.” He ruffled your hair but your shining eyes and too big smile made him blush and turn away.

Lucifer

He questioned if putting you under Mammon’s care at first was a mistake.

It’s not that you didn’t get along, in fact you two got along too well. Was Mammon’s stupid tendencies to slack off rubbing off on you?

You had been coming back late without being accompanied by one of his brothers and he was determined to find out what you were up to.

For the morning, he watched as you and Mammon walked to school. Lucifer stayed far enough away so he couldn’t be sensed so he couldn’t hear what you two were saying but it was clear you were having a good time. Mammon was snickering as you animatedly gestured and walked backwards. Lucifer’s heart warmed that his brother was genuinely happy then realized he was getting distracted.

You sat through your first class diligently taking notes and participating. The same for most of the classes that day. Lucifer started to acknowledge your responsibility to learning but it made him all the more curious as to why you skipped your last class. 

He watched you look around for any onlookers and dipped into the library. He was both surprised and amused that you were meeting with Simeon. The angel was leading you astray? 

Simeon didn’t look happy about it either, probably scolding you for missing class, but he was a pushover and your pathetic look won him over. The two of you sat as Simeon talked. You were taking notes on whatever Simeon was lecturing on. 

You left the interaction and Lucifer took the chance to talk with Simeon himself. He learned that you were asking about stories from the Celestial Realm. Simeon offered that it was just human nature to be curious what lays beyond life. Lucifer, the ever-skeptic, didn’t believe that was it.

He had lost your trail by talking to Simeon so he went home to wait for your return.

Lucifer intercepted you as you tried to sneak in. “MC, this way please,” he led you to his office, “How was today?”

“Good?” you answered but was unsure why he looked so serious.

“How was class?” 

You got nervous but answered, “Fine, same old same old.”

“Ah,” Lucifer smirked, “And how was Simeon?”

Your attempt to play dumb failed spectacularly when you stammered, “W-who’s Simeon?”

“Lying to me won’t do you well,” Lucifer reminded.

“Sorry, it’s just it wasn’t an approved activity so I didn’t want anyone in your family to be implicated…” you scratched the back of your head and looked away.

“And what activity is that?”

“Oh I thought you knew since you caught me,” you laughed, “Solomon and I were going to play with young demons at an orphanage in town. We were telling them stories from the Human Realm but I thought it would be nice to incorporate stories from the Celestial Realm too.”

Lucifer sighed.

You took that as a sign he was disappointed so you continued, “Let me explain, I know I should have asked permission first and for that I’m sorry. Solomon and I just stumbled on the place one day and the kids bombarded us with questions, never having seen humans before and before I knew it we were going almost everyday. I guess I thought it wouldn’t be bad because exposing the next generation of demons to humans would help Diavolo’s mission to strengthen relations between the realms. And I asked Simeon for stories so we could share Celestial Realm things too without getting Simeon in trouble or putting him in an uncomfortable position.”

Well that was definitely an eye opener for Lucifer. What you said made sense that changing minds starts with the youth. His original assumptions that you were just shirking responsibilities was way off base. He didn’t want to but admitted to himself he was wrong. Not only had you been doing something charitable but you were furthering Lord Diavolo’s message in a different way.

“You’re correct, you should have asked permission,” he started and you sank in your seat, “but I don’t see any harm in what you’re doing except for missing classes.” You sank further in your seat. “For skipping class, you’ll need to do extra studies,” he paused to make sure you knew this was a punishment, “I think a fitting topic would be interracial communication with a focus on the youth of Devildom.”

You perked up with a smile, “So I can keep going to the orphanage?”

Lucifer fought back a smile himself, trying to continue to be stern, “Yes, but that’s only if you don’t skip class and you have one of my brothers accompany you. As competent as Solomon is, he is also human and I would feel better if you had a demon escort.”

You were absolutely beaming now. “I’d like that but I don’t think you brothers would be interested.”

“They’ll do what they’re told but I think the twins would enjoy it the most,” Lucifer offered.

“Thanks! I would like if you could join us sometime too,” you suggested shyly.

He did smile at that, “If my schedule allows,” He didn’t finish before you were hugging him. He stiffened, not used to being hugged after doling out a punishment but softened and returned your hug, “I’ll make time to join you.”

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down. 

    “Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?” 

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place. 

    “Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

    “(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

    “How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side. 

    “I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

    “Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him. 

    “That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you. 

Jackass. 

    “Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you. 

    “Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

    “Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention. 

    “I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.” 

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

    “Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him. 

    “Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.”  The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously, 

    “Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear. 

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you. 

    “That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull, 

    “What Tommy?” 

    “Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable. 

     “T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head: 

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’ 

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword. 

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid. 

    “Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him. 

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

    “What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken. 

    “The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied. 

    “That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?” 

    “What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down. 

    “I’m single.” 

    “Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist. 

    “Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly. 

    “Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you, 

    “See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully. 

    “She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft” 

    “Not brothers and I don’t like him.” 

    “Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly. 

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug. 

    “(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms. 

    “Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.” 

    “Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?” 

    “I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.” 

    “WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!” 

    “Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay. 

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨

[edutainer2022]

Oh my! What a rollercoaster of insights in this chapter! I have pretty much every other paragraph copied to comment, so I think I want do consecutive reactions, if that's okay.

First, the title. It didn't click to me first, then it DID! Then I was having THOUGHTS in the end, whether I got it right! And I'll comment words on it later, because oh dear... That ending!

He wanted to run. Run until he was too exhausted to think. That would help him get out of this spiral. But he knew he’d never back get past the puppy pile he’d managed to sneak away from when he awoke suddenly desperate to see the sky. He paused and pressed his face against the glass to see them still peaceful, all in wildly different sleeping positions and, he smiled affectionately, probably making the full range of amusing sleep-noises between them.

The image of Scott "trapped" on the balcony and reeling with anxious energy is so evocative! But absolutely precious is the image of his "jail guard" - the brothers who won't let him run his mind into a twist and run away. They walled him off and he's in the softest, most loving "prison". The way he looks at the beloved puppies, brimming with tenderness. The way he opts against waking them up not for his freedom, but for their rest. Never for himself.

Unless he climbed down…

I yelled at the screen at that! Because, yeah, Scotty, way to go! Give your beloved puppers a Scott-splatter on the deck to wake up to. That should do it! I see, John quite agrees.

No, he couldn’t run if he broke a leg. And his brothers would probably panic and assume he’d been trying something silly. Sillier than climbing down a cliff face merely because he needed to adrenaline-burn some thoughts from his mind without an audience.

Oh, that paints a picture. I can only imagine the HORROR of the brothers, who just by a miracle got him back from an effin' collision course. And, Scooter, newsflash - if you're burning off anxious energy in a way that's potentially dangerous, you ARE, in fact, doing something silly, even if in your opinion you're not actively jumping off that cliff.

Predictably they were very worried about that. John had asked him outright last night if there was any ideation - a form of words that sounded very much like Patricia in risk-management mode. Of course she’d probably had a word.

Oh, goodness, Johnny! What did it take of him to have that conversation with Patricia. He's being practical, clinical, detached by ambiguous lingo. But he's smart. And he allowed himself to think the thought Virgil wouldn't ever dare touch with a pole all the way through to the end. And there's no way it's not killing John inside.

He knew why he was asking, but it was hard not to shrug it off as a non-issue. Sure, he could admit wasn’t in a great place right now… but as he told her at the start of every session when the question came - his protective factors were rock solid. And they were the brothers he was responsible for. He wasn’t ever going to deliberately do anything to hurt them, they’d suffered enough loss. As much as he wished his family had been left with somebody more… well… Everything… Scott was what they were stuck with and despite the darker thoughts he knew logically that he was better than nothing. He knew he couldn’t knowingly leave them with all the burdens his father had left him with.

Seriously, Scotty, this is NOT the healthier approach to self-destruction you might think it is. Not by a long shot. But it's so Scott! He's got his ducks in row, you see. He's got a firm grip on the "urge" to self-annihilate, because... duty to brothers. Protect the brothers. Someone better would protect them better, but he's all there is. He'll have to do. He'll have to DO IT ALL, so that they don't have to carry ALL THAT BURDEN. What is deafeningly poignant is there's no Scott anywhere in that "rock solid" rationale. Nothing he wants for himself, nothing he wants to NOT do, maybe, for his well-being. No concept of self - just the function: protect, don't hurt, carry the weight. FOR the brothers. It's the conversation in the tent all over again - Scott wasn't doing anything to himself DELIBERATELY then, but what he was doing rightfully freaked Virgil out. What happens at the point Scott decides the brothers don't need them anymore? Or that he can't be useful to them? Like he does... in the next paragraph, more or less.

One of the more frequent questions he’d yelled at the horizon from the privacy of the far side of the island was why on Earth Dad had saddled him with so much ADMIN?

Oh, the pain is real, Scotty! I feel'ya!

A wry smile. He could sort the admin. He was good for something at least. And, for whatever reason, they did love him, he knew that. They kept going out of their way to demonstrate it. And Dad had had flaws, hadn’t he? More apparent in retrospect… but Scott still loved and missed him… so it stood to reason the others might miss Scott if he was gone.

For whatever reason... Might miss him... Effin' MIGHT!!!!!! That's pretty much the crux of the problem. He may rationalize a healthier approach, or even a transactional self-image (he's "somewhat" useful to them so he should stick around), but he doesn't believe it. Not really. He has no cognitive tool to realize how loosing him would devastate them. And he doesn't even extrapolate how loosing any brother would make him feel, because he thinks the world of them, they are so amazing, they're his whole world, but he... in his own mind is just the worst off all options they're stuck with, goodness knows why they even care. But yay to acknowledging Dad's flaws in passing. Taking him off the pedestal might be the only way to a more functional self-image.

Whether he’d ever be any real use again though…

He watched the bird wheel overhead and his heart sank. No flight for him for a while. If One was needed, Alan would pilot her. He’d made the decision before poor Virgil had been forced to. His brother had been through enough dealing with Scott’s mess and selfishness recently. He seemed exhausted, he felt a stabbing guilt, and John was little better.

There we go again! One step forward - two steps back. It's really masterful writing of the spiraling mind. And yeah, sure, Scotty, you have no useful application beyond Thunderbird One. You're sooooo selfish by being "not okay". Oh, right, maybe paperwork. It's poignant how he took the burden off Virgil by taking himself off the roster. He knows the brother would feel guilty. But also... he thinks the brothers see his worth only in being a Thunderbird... Which, of course, is in a different universe from being true.

Yet another thing to fix. Typical Scott Tracy, number one impulsive idiot - why think it through beforehand when you can overthink it one hundred times after the event?

That's the spirit, sure!

It had to be her. He knew it was her and she’d known him. But what if it wasn’t? What if she had merely been one of the many other rescuees over the years? His reaction would have seemed so weird and inappropriate. There might be a complaint.But the nights… So many nights he’d shouted again and again for her to run but the sound wouldn’t come out… or if it did, it was rasping and painful and too slow. Too slow. She had waited too long. He strained and struggled against the unrelenting arms holding him back as the thug with the combat knife barked an instruction, then turned and gave chase. It was. He knew it was as sure as he could be sure of anything. He’d seen her so many times, particularly recently when he’d been sick.

Such a haunting depiction of Scott navigating meeting the "ghost" of his guilt.

He’d regained consciousness in the tiny cell and the pain and darkness had only intensified… he squeezed his fists and eyes closed and sang the names of his brothers to himself under his breath. He didn’t need to go there. That Place didn’t hold him anymore.

So much there! The names of brothers that tethered him to life and sanity. The far and hard repressed hold of That Place. But it's not relinquished completely. The resent illness showcased that.

SHE did, though. She was watching every time he failed to save another person. All the times he wasn’t quick enough or strong enough, he had apologised to the ghost of her over and over and over.

Oh, THAT is such an important key to Scott's... everything. Guilt. Guilt that he carries for not having earned his keep - he "failed", that means his suffering AND his salvation were meaningless. And it's the other way around with Dad now - Scott "failed", so his survival and suffering are meaningless. He's not earning his keep. Oh dear...

If she WAS alive… it changed everything.

No kidding! What if... a wild thought, but bear with me Scotty... WHAT IF you're not a fundamental failure and your existence is not meaningless. Groundbreaking!

Alan and Kayo had completed one rescue in orbit and the rest of them had sat in the lounge assisting on comms. Scott had been a little quieter than usual, deferring to John on a couple of points where usually Virgil might have expected him to be more decisive, but it WAS a space rescue and that wasn’t entirely unheard of. Scott had never been space’s biggest fan.

Other than that they’d all done their own thing, mostly within reasonably close proximity to their oldest brother because, at least for Virgil, it was difficult to actually let him out of his sight. So he’d played piano, painted on the mezzanine, baked a couple of apple pies. Normal things he’d normally be in the communal area to do and not suspicious at all.

That is so endearing! Of course Virgil would be wary to let Scott out of his sight. The "inconspicuous" hanging out in general vicinity of big brother - there's so much love there and so much worry. The illness was bad enough. The cave in. But Scott's "episode" was terrifying. And him willingly grounding himself... I'd guess Virgil is also aware on some level how soothing him playing, or painting around Scott is for him. And pie, of course!

Scott himself was sorting some TI paperwork and, at one point, handwriting the little cards they tried to send to young rescuees within two weeks of the event in which they were involved. Many were drafted by a special department at TI, the actual Tracy involved usually just adding a signature or, in Virgil’s case, a tiny doodle. But Scott did like to make them more personal when he had the time so the only unusual thing was that it wasn’t being done at 2am the night before their posting deadline.

That's so sweet! Such a great way to engage and spread the positive IR image!

He’d even gone to bed at a reasonable hour which was rather more odd. Virgil felt slightly uncomfortable asking EOS to confirm he was actually in bed… like she was some kind of high tech baby monitor…

Priceless! A high tech baby monitor she is, indeed! John absolutely deploys her as such too. More than they all know.

“Of course she did, he’s the Commander. Honestly, Virgil, I’m beginning to think she listens to him more than to me. She’s certainly been chatting away on his direct line fairly frequently. Apparently he’s been answering some of her ‘modern historical and anthropological questions’” John’s use of air quotes somehow conveyed deep unease. “I have instructed her not to annoy him but he hasn’t complained. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’d gone soft on him since he was sick.”

Yay! The dynamic duo of Commander and Murder Bot. They're precious! But of course Eos would feel differently about him. She experienced firsthand the drama, she talked him through something he couldn't share with his brothers. And she saw John’s utter devastation and fear for big brother.

“No. That was last week. I’ll see if I can find out what documents he was looking at but...” John coughed awkwardly at this point and Virgil looked at him quizzically until he continued “I haven’t currently got EOS’s help because she’s powered herself down for what she called “essential self care and maintenance” so with one thing and another it might take me a little while.

And just like that... Scooter was hiding again from them. Hiding his frantic search for an answer, research of Estera. The turmoil. The confusion and upended view on the world. But Eos taking personal time off? Priceless! Also suspicious...

Could you go and check on him?” He paused and listened at his brothers’ door. Gentle snoring floated through the wood and Virgil’s frown deepened. His brother didn’t tend to snore unless he was sick? He pushed open the door and found himself unsurprised to find the room empty, his brothers’ comms unit carefully located in the centre of the un-slept-in bed and a sound effects track playing on loop. He swiped it off in frustration and was lifting his arm to call John when his brother popped up in a state of extreme agitation: “Tracy Two has just taken off. Comms are inactive.”

Oh, Scotty... That's some considerable lengths to go to escape his brothers' vigilance and worry. And way to give them (and us!) more reasons to panic. Maybe he actually could use a brother with him on the trip there... Oh well... Maybe John can track Tracy Two, even without comms? That would at least give them a reassurance he's not flying it head on into a cliff or an ocean.

The symbolism of that gull. It's purpose and payoff, I guess, in the end. Scott might have reacted to the analogy of freedom to fly. But he got triggered that the gull came out empty-handed. No result, futility even in freedom. And it got downhill from there in the spiral - it's all tied down to purpose and results for him. And failure.

Estera Ch 7 - Gull

(Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6)

(Sofasurf’s Recrudescence which is the foundation for all of this)

Scott paces, Virgil paints, John panics…

Another little warning for things discussed but not actually happening here. Some of Scott’s pondering is based on either my own experience or that of friends… sorry if it therefore seems ‘out of voice’ for him, but it’s where I think he lands at this point in the story.

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The Sunday morning sun peeked cautiously over the horizon and cast a burnt orange glow over the water as Scott paced the length of the balcony again and again. He barely noticed the changing light, his focus on wrestling his own mind into submission… with minimal success.

He wanted to run. Run until he was too exhausted to think. That would help him get out of this spiral. But he knew he’d never back get past the puppy pile he’d managed to sneak away from when he awoke suddenly desperate to see the sky. He paused and pressed his face against the glass to see them still peaceful, all in wildly different sleeping positions and, he smiled affectionately, probably making the full range of amusing sleep-noises between them.

He’d not get away with opening the door again, not now the dawn chorus had started, someone would wake. And they needed their sleep. Fine. He was trapped here for the time being.

Unless he climbed down…

He peered over the railing down at the pool deck.

No, he couldn’t run if he broke a leg. And his brothers would probably panic and assume he’d been trying something silly. Sillier than climbing down a cliff face merely because he needed to adrenaline-burn some thoughts from his mind without an audience.

Predictably they were very worried about that. John had asked him outright last night if there was any ideation - a form of words that sounded very much like Patricia in risk-management mode. Of course she’d probably had a word.

He knew why he was asking, but it was hard not to shrug it off as a non-issue. Sure, he could admit wasn’t in a great place right now… but as he told her at the start of every session when the question came - his protective factors were rock solid. And they were the brothers he was responsible for. He wasn’t ever going to deliberately do anything to hurt them, they’d suffered enough loss.

As much as he wished his family had been left with somebody more… well… Everything… Scott was what they were stuck with and despite the darker thoughts he knew logically that he was better than nothing. He knew he couldn’t knowingly leave them with all the burdens his father had left him with. One of the more frequent questions he’d yelled at the horizon from the privacy of the far side of the island was why on Earth Dad had saddled him with so much ADMIN?

A gull screeched at him in agreement.

A wry smile. He could sort the admin. He was good for something at least. And, for whatever reason, they did love him, he knew that. They kept going out of their way to demonstrate it.

And Dad had had flaws, hadn’t he? More apparent in retrospect… but Scott still loved and missed him… so it stood to reason the others might miss Scott if he was gone.

No, no silliness.

Whether he’d ever be any real use again though…

He watched the bird wheel overhead and his heart sank. No flight for him for a while. If One was needed, Alan would pilot her. He’d made the decision before poor Virgil had been forced to. His brother had been through enough dealing with Scott’s mess and selfishness recently. He seemed exhausted, he felt a stabbing guilt, and John was little better.

The pacing recommenced.

In retrospect, switching off the comm for the flight home had been unwise. But he’d felt it best that the full range of military-schooled curse words he’d yelled into the void of One’s cockpit did not end up on the official record and could not be overheard by impressionable younger brothers. It had made sense at the time. But yeah, they’d assumed the worst and… he cringed… Virgil and John seemed to have been really freaked out by something else that he needed to get to the bottom of.

Yet another thing to fix. Typical Scott Tracy, number one impulsive idiot - why think it through beforehand when you can overthink it one hundred times after the event?

The seabird suddenly nosedived to plunge into the water. He stopped to watch. It emerged empty-beaked and Scott felt a twinge of sympathy. Better luck next time little friend. The hill seemed to shrug it off, flew out of sight and the useful distraction was lost.

His mind swerved unavoidably back to yesterday and the relentless back and forth began again.

She stared up at him, again, pale-faced and wide-eyed, clear as the fists he clenched in front of him, closer than his own skin.

It had to be her. He knew it was her and she’d known him. But what if it wasn’t? What if she had merely been one of the many other rescuees over the years? His reaction would have seemed so weird and inappropriate. There might be a complaint.

But what if it was her? That was worse? It was definitely worse. He felt sick as he realised he’d grabbed her by the shoulders in much that same way as that monster in the square had when… when…

Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe he hadn’t recovered as well as he thought. He was just seeing her in the faces of random people. That had happened before, when he first got back he passed her on the street several times a day, she was serving behind every counter, brought the mail to their door…

Could it have been though?

It was. He knew it was as sure as he could be sure of anything. He’d seen her so many times, particularly recently when he’d been sick.

Before the sickness, he’d contained it all fairly well during waking hours. There were certain odd triggers he struggled to counter. The slightly blood-like scent of rusted iron for example, thankfully not a common building material these days, but when they encountered it at close range… for a few moments he’d be back there crouching behind the rubble, the fence pole in his hand resting slightly on the side of his face as he watched her defy the soldiers.

But the nights… So many nights he’d shouted again and again for her to run but the sound wouldn’t come out… or if it did, it was rasping and painful and too slow. Too slow. She had waited too long. He strained and struggled against the unrelenting arms holding him back as the thug with the combat knife barked an instruction, then turned and gave chase.

She hadn’t got far enough away, he’d known that truth for ten years.

He’d failed.

Then there’d been pain and darkness.

He’d regained consciousness in the tiny cell and the pain and darkness had only intensified… he squeezed his fists and eyes closed and sang the names of his brothers to himself under his breath. He didn’t need to go there.

That Place didn’t hold him anymore.

SHE did, though.

She was watching every time he failed to save another person. All the times he wasn’t quick enough or strong enough, he had apologised to the ghost of her over and over and over.

If she was alive…

If she WAS alive… it changed everything.

He had to know for sure.

He turned his back to the sun and gazed up at the fading morning star for a long moment. Then tapped his comm and whispered quietly “EOS? Can you do me a favour?”

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It had been a quiet couple of days.

Alan and Kayo had completed one rescue in orbit and the rest of them had sat in the lounge assisting on comms. Scott had been a little quieter than usual, deferring to John on a couple of points where usually Virgil might have expected him to be more decisive, but it WAS a space rescue and that wasn’t entirely unheard of. Scott had never been space’s biggest fan.

Other than that they’d all done their own thing, mostly within reasonably close proximity to their oldest brother because, at least for Virgil, it was difficult to actually let him out of his sight. So he’d played piano, painted on the mezzanine, baked a couple of apple pies. Normal things he’d normally be in the communal area to do and not suspicious at all.

Scott himself was sorting some TI paperwork and, at one point, handwriting the little cards they tried to send to young rescuees within two weeks of the event in which they were involved. Many were drafted by a special department at TI, the actual Tracy involved usually just adding a signature or, in Virgil’s case, a tiny doodle. But Scott did like to make them more personal when he had the time so the only unusual thing was that it wasn’t being done at 2am the night before their posting deadline.

When a quick count had revealed 11 cards rather than 10 stood up to dry, Virgil had wandered past and casually queried it - they didn’t usually include the adults after all. Scott silently handed him the extra card which appeared to be addressed to “Alex’s Awesome Right Shoe” at which point the younger brother concluded that whatever the story was behind that, it could wait for when Scott was ready to tell.

Along with all the rest. Hopefully.

He’d even gone to bed at a reasonable hour which was rather more odd. Virgil felt slightly uncomfortable asking EOS to confirm he was actually in bed… like she was some kind of high tech baby monitor… but her assurance meant he felt able to retire to his studio to work on a project too messy for the lounge.

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Shortly before midnight Virgil was clearing up in his studio when John popped up on looking serious but not in the usual way.

“Evening John, what’s up? Do we have a situation?”

His brother cleared his throat and appeared uncertain of what he was about to say.

“Virgil, Scott asked EOS to hack a couple of… databases.”

Virgil frowned and turned off the tap, spinning to face John’s hologram with paintbrushes still dripping, “What databases? Whose databases?”

John’s eye twitched. “The UK Home Office and the GDF War Archives.”

Virgil cursed as one of his more delicate brushes snapped in his fist.

“And… did she?”

“Of course she did, he’s the Commander. Honestly, Virgil, I’m beginning to think she listens to him more than to me. She’s certainly been chatting away on his direct line fairly frequently. Apparently he’s been answering some of her ‘modern historical and anthropological questions’” John’s use of air quotes somehow conveyed deep unease. “I have instructed her not to annoy him but he hasn’t complained. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’d gone soft on him since he was sick.”

“Well it’s better that they get along, I suppose. But John, what are they up to? Why?!”

“She said she was instructed not to reveal the details but has interpreted that instruction to mean she can tell me the basics without detail. She’s quite proud of how quickly she got through their firewalls.”

John paused.

“Virgil, maybe you should put those down?”

He looked down at the expensive brushes he’d been mangling and flung them into the sink.

“When was this?”

“Yesterday morning, apparently. Has he been working on Tracy Industries material ALL day today?”

“Yes. At least… I assumed so? I try not to get involved unless it’s R&D. All I did was check in and remind him to go to bed at a sensible time. From what I could tell then it was mostly spreadsheets on screen. Didn’t he have a budget thing to approve?”

“No. That was last week. I’ll see if I can find out what documents he was looking at but...” John coughed awkwardly at this point and Virgil looked at him quizzically until he continued “I haven’t currently got EOS’s help because she’s powered herself down for what she called “essential self care and maintenance” so with one thing and another it might take me a little while. Could you go and check on him?”

Virgil wiped his hands on his jeans and sprinted from the room.

He paused and listened at his brothers’ door. Gentle snoring floated through the wood and Virgil’s frown deepened. His brother didn’t tend to snore unless he was sick? He pushed open the door and found himself unsurprised to find the room empty, his brothers’ comms unit carefully located in the centre of the un-slept-in bed and a sound effects track playing on loop. He swiped it off in frustration and was lifting his arm to call John when his brother popped up in a state of extreme agitation: “Tracy Two has just taken off. Comms are inactive.”

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[hangovercurse]

Until You Fall Asleep

After moving in with the crew to help cure your quarantine boredom, you find a new way to deal with your insomnia.

Request: “Could you please do a Colson fanfic where you're a friend of the gang and you move into their house for quarantine so you're not alone. Colson finds out you have terrible insomnia and starts staying up to keep you company and you gradually start sleeping in his bed because it's the only place you seem to actually sleep. You start to get really close through these late night chats, watching films, sharing stuff and opening up to each other... Friendship starts to develop into something else. I need some fluff to see me through these sleepless nights! 🙏😘 Thanks!”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3487

Living with your best friends during a nationwide quarantine seemed like a good idea when you agreed to it, but after the 5th night of wandering the huge house late at night because you couldn’t sleep, you were starting to think you should’ve stayed where you were. At least at your own place, you didn’t have to worry about sneaking around so as not to wake anyone up.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice that you woke up earlier than everyone else in the house or went to sleep later. Or if they did, no one said anything.

Day five

Tonight hadn’t been going so well. You had tried showering, you hadn’t eaten for at least a few hours before trying to sleep, you turned your lavender diffuser on, you’d even tried yoga. Nothing helped, and you were left staring at your ceiling.

Frustrated and uncomfortable, you rolled out of your bed, sock clad feet pattering across your room and slowly pulling your door open. You made your way through the house and out to the pool, letting the cool night air wash over you. A deep breath fell from your lips as you began to pace around the deck, hoping to tire yourself out enough to sleep.

After a few minutes, you heard the sliding glass door open, looking up and finding Colson stepping out with a blunt in his hand. He smiled tiredly at you, “you’re up early.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what time is it?” You figured it was 4, maybe 5 am.

“Almost 7,” he looked concerned, “you okay?”

You were trying to figure out how you managed to stay up until 7 am without a wink of sleep, “yeah, just couldn’t sleep. It’s cool though. Why are you up?”

Colson lit the blunt as he spoke, “couldn’t sleep either.”

Day eight

You found yourself curled up on the couch, reading a book at 5:30 in the morning after hours of trying to fall asleep. You swore if you stayed in your room a second longer, you’d break something, so you snuck out to the TV room with the most boring book you could find.

“Do you ever sleep?” Colson’s voice surprised you, making you jump lightly in your seat. The man chuckled at your reaction, taking a seat next to you.

You pouted at his glee, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He shrugged, “sleep is for the weak.”

A sarcastic chuckle fell from your lips, “oh yeah, I feel so strong and cool right now.”

The man laughed with you, but soon turned serious, “serious though, are you good? Both nights this week I haven’t slept you’ve been awake, and I know you don’t take naps.”

You sighed, “it’s just insomnia, I’ve been dealing with it on and off for a couple years now. It’s not a big deal.”

He cocked his head in curiosity and worry, “how much sleep have you been getting?”

You ducked your head in embarrassment, “I slept for an hour at like 3, hopefully I’ll fall asleep again at some point tonight.”

Colson frowned, “can I help at all?”

A small smile fell upon your face, “sometimes talking helps, but honestly not much else. It’s not that big of a problem, though. I’ve been dealing with this for a while, I’m used to it.”

He looked shocked, “dude, you sleep for a few hours every night! That’s a problem. I don’t even know how you’re still alive.”

“Like you’ve never gone a couple days in a row without sleeping,” you said sarcastically.

“No! I go to sleep late as fuck, but I sleep eventually most nights. You’re on a whole different level.” His tone was slightly defensive, if not concerned, “do I need to get you some pills or something? I can do that.”

Your eyes went wide, “Jesus, Kells, no. I have enough to deal with, I don’t need another addiction on my hands too.”

He chuckled, “I’m just saying it might help. I’m assuming weed does nothing?”

You sighed sadly, “it did for a while, but I think my body got used to it. I just have to wait it out until I inevitably pass out.”

“Well, guess I’ll just bother you until you fall asleep.” He relaxed further into the couch, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Colson, you really don’t have to-“

“You won’t let me get you drugs, so I’m gonna stay up with you. It’s the least I can do.” He smiled widely, knowing he would get his way.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

Day Twelve

“You think that Captain America has the best character arc? Seriously?”

Your nightly chats with Colson had moved into his room after Baze was woken up by Colson’s loud laughter during a conversation about what type of dogs you’d both be. So, you were sat cross legged on his bed, facing each other in deep conversation.

The man tried to defend his stance to you, “okay, I know everyone loves Tony’s whole asshole to hero thing, but Captain America went from this goody two shoes to this badass criminal and he still got the girl in the end.”

You shook your head, “you’re just wrong in every way. I’m not even saying Iron Man had a better story, but literally every other character developed more than Steve. He wasn’t that badass in the end, and the fact that he went back to get the girl just proves he never really changed all that much. He was static.”

“So, you’re telling me, if we watched every single movie with Captain America in it, you wouldn’t be entertained?” He crossed his arms and leaned backwards, eyeing you challengingly.

You scoffed, “the movies are fine, I just think that Marvel has produced better superheroes with better plotlines.”

“New plan, we’re going to watch every marvel movie in order and then you can tell me that I’m right.” He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV across from his bed.

Rolling your eyes, you moved back to lean against the headrest, legs spread out in front of you, “you’re not right, but I’ll watch them just to see the look on your face when you realize you’re wrong.”

Colson flopped down on the bed next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you so that you were leaning into his side. A yawn escaped his mouth, “if you get tired, let me know.”

You giggled, “I’m always tired, I just can’t sleep. I won’t get offended if you fall asleep though.”

He pulled a face, “I’m not falling asleep.”

About an hour into the movie the slow rise and fall of his chest indicated differently. You chuckled to yourself once you realized he had fallen asleep, turning further into his chest, and allowing yourself to get more comfortable.

Somewhere between 4 and 5 am, you found your eyes finally closing of their own accord, unconsciousness washing over you.

Day 17

Since starting your marvel movie binges with Colson, you’d found yourself getting more sleep. You couldn’t tell if it was from the movies or from Colson, but either way something seemed to be working.

Tonight, however, even your new routine wouldn’t lull you to sleep. You tried every breathing exercise in the book, but nothing seemed to work. Colson had fallen asleep a while ago, his arm wrapped around you as per usual, so you couldn’t talk yourself to sleep.

So, you decided to take a stroll around the house, hoping the small form of physical activity would help. But in order to get out of bed, you would have to find a way out of Colson’s embrace without waking him up.

You slowly and gently grabbed his hand and removed it from your side, laying it on the bed next to you. Then, you sat up slowly, only to be pulled back into his chest, “where’re you going?”

His voice was deep and gravelly, sleepiness very evident. You responded with a whispered, “I can’t sleep, was gonna go walk around.”

He pulled you in closer to him, nuzzling his face into the crown of your head, “but you’re so warm.”

You chuckled, cuddling into the man, “fine, I’ll stay.” You tried to close your eyes and find sleep, but again, none came. Sighing, you accepted that you would be stuck in your current position, realizing there were worse things than being wrapped up in a beautiful boy’s arms.

Day 25

“I know aliens probably exist, but do you think they’d ever take one of us to study?”

Colson chuckled at your question, “like a human in general or, like, you and me?”

“Like you or me. Do you think we’re important enough to be studied?”

He squeezed your waist, “I think you are in desperate need of sleep.”

Laughing, you responded, “I’m serious! And I have been sleeping, thank you very much.”

“Okay, fine. I think if aliens ever came to Earth, they’d probably be more interested in, like, genius billionaires or really dumb people, like people from Florida.”

You slapped his arm, “don’t be mean to Florida.”

You could feel the vibrations from his laughter, making you giggle. “Fine, but my point is they wouldn’t be interested in us unless they’re really into music.”

“Darn,” you huffed.

He raised an eyebrow at you, “you want aliens to take you and study you?”

Balancing yourself on his chest, you lifted yourself up to look down at him, “yes! That would be so fucking cool.”

He shook his head with a laugh, “you’re crazy.”

“Think about it, who else would be able to say they got studied by aliens. And then you’d know that you were important to someone, even if it is just alien scientists.”

Rolling his eyes, Colson pulled you back down into him, your hands still resting on his chest, “I don’t need aliens to know I’m important.”

“Well not all of us can be ubertalented rock stars with millions of fans,” you joked, a teasing smile on your face.

You glanced up to find his eyes trained on you, holding a softer look in them than you had expected, “I didn’t mean that.”

It took a few moments for his words to get processed by your brain, but you immediately dismissed the thought that he could be talking about you specifically. More than likely he was referencing his family in general, which you could be included in.

Day 31

To celebrate a full month in quarantine, the guys had decided to throw an in-house only party, which just meant that everyone had an excuse to drink together more than normal. You were staying mostly sober, knowing that otherwise the boys would most likely break something, most likely themselves.

You watched from your place on the kitchen counter as Rook, Baze, Slim, Dre, Irv, Dub, and Colson played a round of King’s cup.

“Y/N, you have to drink,” Rook called from across the room, “it’s a six.”

“If there’s no women playing then you just skip that card, Rookie.” You called but took a sip from your cup anyways.

Colson whined, “this is boring.” You chuckled as he moved away from the table to come stand by you, the rest of the guys continuing without him. He leaned against the counter next to your dangling leg, letting you run your fingers through his blond hair, “parties are boring now, Y/N.”

You could tell that he was gone, the alcohol having almost full control of him. “When we get out of quarantine, we’ll throw the biggest party ever, Kells,” you said, letting your hand fall to rest on his shoulder. The man grasped your hand in his and moved it back up to the top of his head, silently begging for you to continue. He turned into a cat, practically purring as he leaned into you, “hey, Kells, you tired?”

He shook his head, “no, ‘m gonna stay up with you, remember?”

You laughed softly, “it’s okay, Kells. You should get some sleep; I’ll be okay for a night.”

His arms wrapped around your middle, head burying into your stomach, “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

“You gotta let me off this counter for that.” This was a side of Colson you rarely saw; the drunk, very cuddly version of Colson. Occasionally he’d cling on to you when he got really tired, but that was in the privacy of his room. Here he was hanging onto you in front of all his friends, though granted they were too drunk to notice anything unusual.

You hopped off the counter, taking on some of Colson’s body weight in order to get him up the stairs and to his room. Truthfully, you planned to leave him in his bed once you got him there, but he had other plans. As soon as you moved to walk away from the bed, he grabbed your arm sleepily, “why are you leaving?”

Running a hand along his jaw softly, you softly said, “I’m gonna go to my room.”

He whined, “you never sleep in your room, stay.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond to that, “Kells, you’re drunk, you need some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep without you.” His eyes were glazed over, making his pleading look even more appealing than normal.

Sighing, you muttered, “yes, you can. I’ll be right down the hall,” but he wasn’t taking no for an answer, hand still firmly around your wrist.

“No.”

You rolled your eyes, climbing into the bed next to him, “I’m only doing this because you need to go to sleep.” He hummed in response to that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly into him, leaving no room for you to escape even if you tried.

Day 37

Nights with Colson had slowly turned into every moment with Colson. You woke up together, ate breakfast together, spent time together. You were rarely separated for long, not that either of you minded.

At some point, the line between friends and whatever lied next had gotten blurred, but not fully crossed. You and Colson were touchy and cuddly during the day as well as at night, and everyone in the house was starting to notice it.

Part of you just wanted to kiss him and see what happened, but you knew messing with a situation like this could go very wrong very fast. So, you just left it up to him to figure out where this thing would go, knowing he probably wouldn’t make the first move either.

But as you laid in his arms, listening to his midnight ramblings, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you took matters into your own hands. You watched his lips move as he spoke, wanting nothing more than to lean up and press your own against them. Of course, you would never actually do it, but it was nice to dream.

There was a lull in the conversation which was spent with your eyes dancing across each other’s face, trying to figure out what to say next. Suddenly, he blurted out, “can I get your advice on something?”

You nodded in response, a soft smile on your face. He continued, “this sounds so stupid, but there’s this girl I’ve been talking to recently and I can’t figure out if she ‘s into me or we’re just really good friends.”

You sat up slightly, perking an eyebrow up, “well what signs has she given you that she’s into you?” Your heart burned, hoping he was talking about you. It was a feeling that had been happening a lot recently whenever you were around him, which was almost all the time.

He sighed, “I mean, we talk like, all the time about everything. And I think she flirts with me, but I’m not completely sure if she’s flirting or she’s just being friendly.”

“Well, what signs say that she’s not into you?” You ask, biting your lip to hide the grin forming on your face.

Colson hesitated, “I mean, none, really. I’m just scared of messing up our friendship, you know?”

You nodded, “well, you’ll never know if you never ask her. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

He was quiet for a long time, clearly turning the advice over in his head, “I would but, with quarantine and everything, I just don’t think it’s the right time. We wouldn’t be able to actually, you know.”

Your heart fell, realizing that there was no possible way he was talking about you. It felt like every bone in your body turned to Jell-o at the realization, a lump forming in your throat. “Right, well, maybe you could invite her over to the house. Or do a cute facetime date or something.”

He nodded but stayed quiet. You fully sat up, swinging your legs off the bed. “Where are you going?” he asked softly.

Something inside of you was slowly crumbling, and you needed to get yourself out of his presence as soon as possible, “I just need to take a walk, I don’t think I’m tired enough to get any form of sleep.”

Colson let out a small “oh,” as you stood up and swiftly left the room, tears forming in your eyes.

You felt silly for letting yourself fall so easily and for thinking that he might have felt the same way. But you could’ve sworn there was something forming between you two.

And how had you never heard of this new girl? How long had that been going on?

So many thoughts swirled around in your head as you made your way downstairs and out to the empty pool deck, pacing the familiar space. You tried to convince yourself that your feelings weren’t as strong as they actually were so that this could somehow be easier, but you knew it wouldn’t work.

The sound of the door sliding open caught your attention, your eyes meeting those all too familiar blue ones. “You okay?” he asked, leaning against the wall of the house. You flashed him a fake smile with a nod. “This doesn’t have anything to do with what I just-”

“No, no,” you cut him off, “I’m just restless right now, needed to get some energy out.”

He nodded, watching you cautiously, “I’m actually super tired, so I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll see you in a few?”

You nodded, knowing full well you had no intention of getting back into his bed, “yeah, goodnight.” You turned your head to the ground, studying the cement below your feet.

The door opened and shut, but when you looked back up, Colson was still standing outside, watching you. “I don’t know why I said that. There isn’t a girl in quarantine. Well, I mean, there is, but we wouldn’t not be able to see each other.”

Your head was spinning, trying to make sense of whatever he was saying. He kept talking, “I got nervous and chickened out and then you left and I felt like an idiot.” You looked up to him, confusion evident on your face as he continued on the borderline of rambling, “so I’m just gonna throw this out there and whatever happens, happens.”

You stared at him blankly, not fully processing his words or what was happening.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me? Or, like, whatever kind of date we can pull off here?”

Your eyes went wide in shock, the rollercoaster you had just been on emotionally twisting your mind. You didn’t speak for a few moments, making Colson nervous, but you finally got out a stuttered, “yes.”

He sighed in relief, “god I feel like such a teenager right now.”

You came back to your senses, narrowing your eyes at him, “do you realize the emotional turmoil you just put me through? I feel like I’m crazy!”

He chuckled, moving towards you, and wrapping his arms around your waist, “I know, I’m an asshole. But it was worth it, right?”

“I was literally rethinking my entire life out here,” you pouted, leaning into his touch.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You rolled your eyes, “look who’s all Mr. confident now.”

The vibrations of his laugh shook your own body, “well, you said yes. This would be a completely different story if you had said no. Then I would be the one rethinking my entire life.”

You smirked teasingly, “I could always change my mind.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, “shut up.” His lips met yours, one hand reaching up to softly hold your jaw. You melted into the kiss, your arms moving to wrap around his neck loosely.

You pulled away slowly, a smile spread on your face, “this almost makes not being able to sleep worth it.”

Tag list:

@bakerkells​ @elviablo​​ @iambashfulperson​ @sunflowerbebe107​ @crystalbaby12​ @stormrider505​ @ticketstomydaydreams​ @mvrylee @daddyavesxx​​ @pettyvxbes​ @prettydreamboy​

[sukirichi]

golden days

GOLDEN DAYS ; what it’s like dating Inarizaki’s golden boy

NOTE. kita shinsuke is amazing. he’s perfect. yeah, that’s it. i love him.

[THE FIRST MEETING.]

“I look forward to working with you!” You bow deep as a greeting, hands trembling as they wrap around the test packets. You’ve recently been appointed as the class assistant to help him balance his duties, whatnot being class president and captain of the volleyball team and whatnot. Kita Shinsuke is one of the most impressive students in your school without a doubt, and to be chosen as his assistant, the pressure is quite closing to choking you.

Gosh, you haven’t even ironed your vest down today.

With a grimace, you pat your skirt down in hopes to make yourself more presentable when he hums, silently taking the heavy stack of papers from you.

“I look forward to working with you as well,” his voice is smooth, cool, and gentle like going to a sunny beach on a cold day. It’s both chilling and warming at the same time, and you stare up at him with wide eyes. “Follow me. I’ll help you take this to the faculty room.”

“Oh, y-yes!”

You don’t miss the way he carries more packets compared to your load, but he doesn’t mind. Years of playing volleyball definitely gained him some strength in those muscles. Unable to help it, your lips tug upwards in a smile as you fall into step beside him, feeling weirdly giddy that he doesn’t seem to be that scary, after all. You both keep to yourselves all the way there, a comfortable silence stretching over.

Usually, you prefer noise filling in the gaps to avoid awkward moments, but with Kita, its appreciated, peaceful even. You welcome it wholeheartedly, that warm blossoming feeling erupting all over your chest even as you made it back to your classroom.

You fidget at the doorframe, wondering if you should say thank you or see you at the meeting after class, hands fiddled with one another while your eyebrows pinch together.

What can you say to Kita Shinsuke?

He beats you to it as he passes you by, his hands faintly grazing against the pads of your knuckles as he tries to fit himself through the door with your body blocking his way. “Thank you,” Kita nods politely, “I’ll talk to you later again in the meeting.”

“Y-yeah, sure,” you stammer, ignoring the loud beating of your heart. Could it just be you, or was there a spark of electricity when his skin came into contact with yours?

[THE FIRST STUDY SESSION.]

“Ugh,” you groan before falling onto the book right in front of you. Kita sits next to you, completely unbothered as he keeps studying his notes, his focus as unwavering as him. “Kita, I don’t understand a single thing.”

“Hmm, which part don’t you get?”

Your groan grows louder as you turn your head to the side, about to complain that proverbs just weren’t your thing, only to stop and flush heated. Kita’s leaned closer to you, unbothered by the lack of space or the fact that he’s close enough you could count his lashes, both bottom and top row. His eyes skim over the messy scrawls of your notebook, humming to himself before nodding.

“That one’s easy. I can teach you that,” Kita scoots closer, his pen spinning in his pretty fingers before he sees your quivering lips, cheek bitten inside your mouth. “What’s wrong?”

Of course he doesn’t know!

“Nothing at all!” you sit back up, spine straight and clearing your throat awkwardly. You make sure to keep your gaze averted from his the whole time, nails dug into your skirt as you pray to whoever diving being that he won’t get to hear the pumping of your heart in this proximity. “Oh yeah, I don’t understand this part. You get it though, don’t you?” That’s a rhetorical question – what exactly didn’t Kita know? – you can’t help yourself from asking just to hide your nervousness.

“Yes. It should be easy. Now, take a look at this passage…”

Although it’s your idea to join the volleyball captain the moment you saw him studying by himself in the library, you found to regret it afterwards. You couldn’t focus on a single thing at all, not when his fingers are so slender and pretty as they point to words blurring over the paper, his scent both calming and intoxicating.

You offer mindless nods every now and then, though his words enter one ear and out into the other. Minutes pass – maybe it’s even been an hour – you don’t really know.

Kita closes your books shut with a sigh, a sound he only makes when really tired. You panic and ready yourself to apologize for being such a burden when Kita closes his eyes, his chuckles soft and a little teasing as he shakes his head. “You didn’t understand a single thing, did you?”

Caught red handed.

There’s no point lying now that he’s easily seen through you, and your shoulders deflate, head ducked in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I was just distracted.”

“I know,” although his voice is nonchalant as ever, Kita is hiding a smirk and blushing cheeks behind the palm of his hand. He reaches over to get another book, English this time around; a subject you’re better at than he is, as a silent way of saying now it’s your turn to teach him. “Next time, focus on the lesson instead of staring my face, yeah?”

[THE FIRST HAND HOLDING.]

Life has been so sweet and golden ever since you and Kita started dating.

It’s honestly still so hard to fathom that Kita actually likes you – likes you enough to date you! Steam is pouring out your ears and your lips won’t stop shaking as you fight back a smile, in complete disbelief that Kita is walking right beside you, handsome and sweet as ever as you guys go out on your first date. He’s been the one to ask you out but lets you choose where you want to go anyway, but being the flustered, nervous mess you are, you just blurt that a walk in the park is nice.

You snicker at yourself while the memory replays. Walk in the park? What are you two, dogs?

Just thinking about makes you turn your head to the side, chin planted on your shoulder as you grimace. Kita doesn’t seem too bothered, but then again, he’s always been hard to read.

You gasp a little when Kita suddenly holds your shoulders, blinking rapidly as he switches positions with you. His face is blank, nodding once upon seeing you’re on the other side of the sidewalk now while he’s closer to the road. It’s such a respectful, polite act that isn’t even romantic at all, but you can’t help but smile anyway, giggling to yourself while Kita shoves his hands down his pockets.

“Something funny?”

“Nope,” you say with the ‘p’ popping, “Nothing at all.”

He raises a brow in question, but doesn’t pry further. You’re swinging your arms side to side, perhaps a little too giddy that you’re with him until your hand is rendered motionless. Brows furrowing, your gaze lands on the sudden warmth spreading all over you.

Kita is holding your hand, his thumb gently forming circles over yours.

If you were feeling giddy before, your eyes are pumping heart eyes now. It dawns on you that your hands are shaking and embarrassingly sweaty, soft against his rough ones, and you try to pull away to rub the sweat onto your skirt. Kita doesn’t give you the chance and tugs you closer instead until your forehead knocks onto his shoulder, making the docile guy snicker.

“Something funny?” you taunt this time around, using your other hand to rub at your sore forehead. He’s a lot muscular and firmer than you thought, making you look like a soft marshmallow in comparison. You don’t hate it though – if anything, it just makes you happier.

Kita notices this written all over your face as he smiles, leaning close until he’s looking at you in eye-level. “Nope,” he repeats, “Nothing at all.”

[THE FIRST KISS.]

Your hands are gripping Kita’s jacket so hard you fear you’ll break it. His hands are gentle and tender as they grip your waist, his little sighs into your lips enough to break you. Your eyes are shut tight, warm lips above his moving cautiously as to not weird him out even though he’s the first one that leaned in.

In your nervousness, your knee beside his body slips farther to the side until you’re falling from his grasp. You gasp at the sliding sensation as you pull away from Kita, hands clutching his clothes while you fall.

Kita, fast and careful as ever, simply places a solid hand flat at your back, wasting no time to bring you back into his lips again. This time around, he’s no longer soft, dominant even as he places you firmly above his lap, hands strong and wrapped around your waist.

You moan when Kita slips his tongue in, tasting the strawberry lollipop you were sucking earlier, the sweetness of it earning you a low groan from him as a reward.

At this point, your heart is about to combust. His hands are everywhere, lips and tongue tasting every inch and spot of yours like he’s been dying to have a taste this whole time. Your confidence grows the longer and harder he kisses you, hands moving up to his shoulders then to his jaw, cupping his face to press your lips harder against his.

Kita smiles into the lip-locking, bending his head sideways to kiss you deeper, his large hand now lingering at the back of your head. Faster than you would like, Kita pulls away, his eyes hazy with something unreadable – something different than what you usually see from him.

His lips are red and moist, and you breathe harder at the thought that your usual composed boyfriend is tethering at the edges because of you.

It makes you wonder just what else you could do to fluster him and bring out more different sides of him, but as always, Kita is one step ahead of you, your recent thoughts an old and never-ending plan of his.

“I love you,” he blurts out, rendering you speechless one more time. When you groan in embarrassment and hide your face in his chest, Kita laughs, the sound a heart warming one as if he isn’t enjoying how fun it is to tease you. Nevertheless, he only tightens his hold around you, pushing you over the edge again and prompting your heart to do unhealthy back flips the moment he kisses the top of your head. “I love you.”

[cat-induced-fever-dream]

Acquaintances

Pairing: Wanda x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Description: Wanda meets someone who doesn’t treat her like a villain, but she doesn’t know who you really are.

Notes: I promise it’s fluff and not a trap. Also sorry about my hiatus, I’m just super unmotivated to do anything. So here’s my feeble offering to try and get back into writing.

- - -

Wanda groaned at the sight of a man with a camera. All she wanted was to pop down to the shops, buy some paprika, but alas, even a shopping trip was gold for the paparazzi. Maybe if she hid behind an aisle he would leave. But she heard the door open behind her. Ducking quickly behind a stack of tuna cans, she scanned the rows for the precious package.

She knew she wasn’t the favourite of the public, and the guilt of what she’d done ate her alive every night, but she was sick of being blamed. All she did was try her best, but this was the kind of thanks she got.

She frowned a little when she saw the man round the corner. She steeled herself, not wanting the tears to spring to her eyes. Turning around to face him, she- There was a person talking to him. You had a shopping bag in your hand, so you must have been another customer. Dressed smartly with a blazer, but paired with jeans and sneakers, you looked friendly, but the cold look you gave the man said otherwise. You exchanged words quietly with the reporter, and he seemed to refuse you, turning back to look at her. Realising that this was the perfect stall to get out of the store, she resumed her search. Cumin, Ginger, Paprika! Quickly glancing back to see how long she had, she saw you hand the man a business card as he hurriedly shuffled away.

“Sorry about that,” you turned to her, looking genuinely apologetic.

“Why?” she asked, it coming out harsher than she meant for it to. “It wasn’t even your fault.”

You shrugged. “You don’t deserve it.”

Wanda frowned again at this. She didn’t even know you, but you helped her out, so the least she could do was be polite. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you smiled. The two of you started to walk towards to counter. More like she did and you kind of happened to as well. “What are you cooking with the paprika?”

Sliding the bag to the cashier, she turned to face you properly. “I was making a traditional Sokovian dish.”

“I’m a big fan of trying different cuisines,” you replied, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That sounds delicious.”

Wanda’s not really sure why you’re trying to make conversation, but you didn’t seem to have an agenda, so she indulged you with a response as the two of you walked out of the store. “It is, my mum always had the best recipe.”

“Ah well, my parents weren’t around much, so I can’t say the same,” you laughed, throwing your shopping in the back of what must have been your car.

Wanda hadn’t even realised she had walked with you to your car. That was embarrassing. “Well, it was nice to meet you, but I should be going now,” backing away as quickly as she could without making a fool of herself.

“Wait,” you called, “do you need a lift back?”

“You’re a stranger.”

“Well I know your name is Wanda,” you grinned cheekily, opening the passenger door. “And my name is Y/N. Guess we’re not strangers anymore. So, what do you say? It’s the least I could do, with that man bothering you.”

She’s not sure what compelled her to agree, but she found herself sitting in a plush leather seat as you adjusted the rear view mirror. Tapping the dashboard screen, you pulled up a map to Avengers Tower and backed out of the parking lot.

You didn’t seem to mind that she didn’t make conversation, bopping your head gently to whatever pop song was on the radio. Instead she spent the time trying to figure out who you were and why you were being so nice. “It’s rude to stare, you know?” you winked at her.

Wanda felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “Wha- No, sorry,” she mumbled. She’d done it again, made herself look dumb. You giggle, returning your eyes to the road. Trying not to stare at you this time, she observed the fancy watch adorning your wrist, and the sleek interior of the car. You must be a businesswoman of some sort, since this clearly wasn’t your average suburban car. But you were wearing jeans. Maybe a lower level employee than?

She sat there musing, until the door suddenly opened. “We’re here,” you smiled, gesturing at the grand tower that was now her home.

Why couldn’t she stop being so awkward? This was the third time. Unbuckling the seatbelt, she stumbled out, clutching the paprika to her chest. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Wanda.” And with a small wave, you hopped back into your car and drove off.

- - -

Heading straight to her room, Wanda abandoned her plans for paprikash. The whole interaction was quite frankly, baffling. No one was ever nice to her, except for the Avengers. But you clearly knew who she was, driving her back to the tower without an address. Tossing her jacket on her bed, she sighed. It’s not like she’d ever see you again. That’s when she noticed the card peeking out from the pocket. There was a phone number printed neatly on it, and a cursive scrawl underneath. “I am actually interested in the dish though. Could I have the name of it?”

She hadn’t exactly interacted with anyone else, so it must’ve been you. Running her thumb over the ink, she was hit with a renewed sense of energy. Grabbing the paprika, she dashed back down the stairs.

- - -

You’re spinning around in your office chair when your phone goes off. Clicking on the message, a small smile makes its way into your face.

Unknown Number: this is the dish i was talking about

Unknown Number: *image*

Unknown Number: it’s paprikash

- - -

“Hey Wanda,” Tony called, a carefully wrapped package in his arms, “this came for you.”

One look at the scarlet wrapping paper, and she knew who it was from. “Thanks Tony,” she said, grabbing it and running to her room.

Setting the package gently on her bed, she untied the ribbon and unfolded the wrapping paper. Nestled in the middle, a box of cookies.

She grinned to herself. Wanda’s been texting you for a couple of months now, and now she could really say that you’re not strangers. She knows that you can’t cook, but you can bake. You’re a businesswoman “of sorts” you say, and that you’re a pretty busy person. But regardless, you hang out with her, chilling in the local coffee shop, going shopping, even just a stroll around the park. She also knows that this happiness she gets when she sees you is definitely not platonic.

Opening the lid, the chocolate aroma wafts into her room. Her favourite of your baked goods. There’s a note tucked into the side of the box, and she delicately pulls it out. “Be my girlfriend?” she read, the handwriting obviously yours. Wait. Be my girlfriend? She sat there dumbly for a couple of seconds before it hit her. You’re asking her to be your girlfriend. Wanda scrambled for her phone, snapping a picture to send to you.

Y/N: those cookies look delicious, who sent them?

The witch rolled eyes at your antics, but played along.

Wanda: idk, but i just got asked out

Y/N: whoaaaa, did you say yes?

Wanda: yes you dumbass

Y/N: okay, under other circumstances that would’ve hurt, but i’m too excited to care right now <3

Wanda: ...

Wanda: did you try to bribe me with cookies?

Y/N: it worked, didn’t it?

Wanda: i can’t believe i actually like you

Y/N: honestly, me too

Y/N: sorry it’s a busy day, but you wanna come over for dinner?

Wanda: sounds good <3

Y/N: i’ll come pick you up, see you then girlfriend

She didn’t want bugs in her room, so Wanda grabbed the box to put in her kitchen cupboard. Balancing a cookie in her mouth, she was about to close the lid, when a hand pinched one. Eyes immediately glowing red, she locked onto Sam as he backed away, half eaten cookie and hands up in surrender.

“Do that again and I will give you nightmares.”

The Falcon whistled lowly. “Okay. Protective over cookies. Got it.”

“There’s cookies?” Bucky asked, strolling in.

“No.”

“Oh okay.”

- - -

The heroes were sprawled on the couches playing a game of UNO when Wanda came down the stairs.

“What are you doing with that hoodie?” Tony asked sharply.

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows. “This.. hoodie?” she replied, tugging on the drawstrings of the soft item of company clothing she was wearing.

“Yes! That’s my enemy’s!”

She didn’t really want to get into whatever nonsense the genius was spouting again. “My friend lent it to me.”

“You have friends?” joked Sam.

Steve gave the man a warning look. “It’s good that you’re adjusting to life here.”

“I think the important question here,” Natasha said from her spot, “is where are you going?”

“Dinner,” she replied, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. She tried to fight the silly smile that crept into her face whenever she thought about you, but she mustn’t have hid it well enough, since the red headed spy gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.

I hate you, she projected.

Nat winked back.

“Based on the way Miss Maximoff keeps anxiously glancing at the door, there is likely to be someone waiting for her,” Vision piped up. “I have searched the Internet databases, and from what I have gathered, your casual outfit means that you are going with someone you are familiar with. The sharing of clothes is usually reserved for close friends or romantic partners only.”

Of course the android had to get involved.

“Your heart rate seems to be speeding up Miss Maximoff. Are you okay?”

“Wanda Maximoff,” Tony asked slowly, “do you have a boyfriend?”

That’s when all hell broke loose.

“Who is he?”

“Is he hot?”

“Where did you meet?”

“How did you even get a boyfriend?”

“Can we meet him?”

“What-“

“Okay,” she groaned. Well it was bound to happen eventually. She just wished she could’ve gotten even a few months without the teasing. “I have a girlfriend, yes she’s hot, yes I’m going to have dinner with her, and I’ll ask about meeting. I’m going to go now.” With that, she stepped into the elevator.

“Don’t think this conversation is over witchy,” called Tony, as the doors slid shut.

- - -

“Hey,” you smiled as she slid into the car. “What took you so long?”

“The Avengers found out.”

You chuckled at that. “What, did they interrogate you or something?”

“Something like that.” She paused. “They want to meet you.”

“Are you sure?”

“They’re my family, and they’ll love you as much as I do.”

“Cute,” you grinned, “but I don’t know about Tony.”

“Trust me, they’re a mess a lot of the time, but they’re good people.”

You checked through your phone. “I haven’t got anything on around lunch tomorrow. I can come by then, how does that sound?”

“So you’ll come?”

“Anything for my girlfriend.”

- - -

Her green eyes locked onto you amongst the bustle of suits in the lobby.

“Hey.”

You adjusted the grey fabric of your pantsuit. “Hey yourself.”

“Did you wear the suit to impress me?” Wanda asked, delicately tugging on your tie.

“Actually, I’ve got a meeting with the investors later. Gotta make an impression, you know?”

“Well consider me impressed,” she whispered against your ear.

Blushing, you allowed Wanda to lead you to the elevator.

- - -

Clint wasn’t sure what to expect with you. But if Wanda liked you, you were sure to be one of the good sorts. So maybe like a cute girl she met at the cafe or something. He sure as hell wasn’t expecting the confident girl dressed in a suit to step out of the elevator.

All of them were lined up in the common room and he’s pretty sure any normal person would have been intimidated by the sheer amount of Avengers in front of them, but you stepped up to them absolutely unfazed.

“Mr Rogers,” you offered your hand to shake, “a pleasure to meet you.”

Steve was expecting to have to take the lead with introductions, but here you seemed to be handling yourself fine. “Likewise.”

“Is Mr Stark here today?” you asked him.

“He’s a bit busy at the mo-“

Clattering and a string of curses interrupted him. And of course, the man himself stepped into the room, Iron Man debris in his wake.

“Tony,” Steve scolded.

“What? Did you think I’d miss meeting the girl who stole the heart of our cold antisocial emo?”

Wanda tossed a couch pillow at him, but he brushed it off.

“Tony Stark,” he declared.

You shook his hand politely. “I know who you are Mr Stark.”

“And you are...?”

“Y/N L/N.”

The genius might have been singed from his armour, but the moment that name fell from your lips, he yanked his hand away, as if he was burned.

“L/N. As in L/N Corporations?”

“That’s me.”

Abruptly he turned to Wanda. “Do you know who this is?” he hissed. “The greatest rival to Stark Industries. I thought you were introducing your girlfriend.”

You gave him a winning smile. “I am her girlfriend Mr Stark. And you may have made me your rival, but I can assure you that you are not mine.”

Sam snorted.

“What are you doing here then? Are you here to try and steal data? You can’t...”

You paid him no mind as you winked at Sam. Spotting the metal arm, your eyes widened. “You must be Bucky, right? Princess Shuri told me she’d been working on some vibranium projects. I’d love to take a closer look some other day if you don’t mind?”

“How do you know Shuri?” Stark spluttered.

“You think that she only talks to rich boys who need her help? Sorry to burst your bubble.”

Nat couldn’t help but smirk at this.

“Oh and I’ve actually been working on some prototype Widow Bites as a bit of a free time project,” you added. “If you’re interested, your opinion on usage would really help me to refine them.”

“Of course.”

“Traitor,” Tony glared.

It’s at this point your phone began to ring. Glancing down, you offered a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve really got to take this.” You turned to face the wall as your friendly tone turned professional.

The Avengers huddled together as your call went on.

“Is she using you for information?” Tony scowled.

Wanda scowled back. “She’s my girlfriend Stark. Not everything is about you.”

He looked as if he was going to say more, but Steve interrupted.

“Look Tony, she seemed like a perfectly lovely girl.”

“Yeah I like her,” added Sam. “She can keep your ego in check.”

“If Wanda likes her, I’m fine with it too.” Clint said.

Wanda gave him a thankful look.

A cough came awkwardly behind them.

“I really hate to cut this short everyone, but something’s come up back at the office. Investors are a pain.”

“Yeah go on back to your investors then,” spat Tony.

“Wow” you drawled, heading back to the elevator, “is the rich card the only thing you can play Stark?”

The light on the wall indicated that the cab had arrived, and you stepped inside the carriage which would take you back down, as Peter stepped out.

“Oh hey Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I was just leaving Pete, but swing by later, alright?”

“You know it.”

“Oh and I heard you liked the hoodie I gave Wanda, Mr Stark,” you called. “I can grab you one as well, since it’s my company. But I really do gotta run now. Nice to meet you all!” The metal doors slid shut on your grinning face.

There was a silence, before Tony turned on his protégée. “How the hell are you on a first name business with her?”

“We’re friends?” Peter offered.

“Friends?”

“She went to college with me. She was super smart and we hung out and stuff. You know, what friends usually do.”

Squirming under his mentor’s gaze, he continued. “She was too smart for college though, so she dropped out and started her company. It didn’t mean we stopped being friends though.”

“Why didn’t you tell me Underoos?”

“She figured you might overreact, especially with the web sho-“ The boy’s eyes widened, and he made a mad dash for the stairs.

But Tony grabbed his wrist. “What were you saying?”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “She helped me out with my web shooters in college, and since then, she’s been developing them with me.”

“What?”

“She knows I’m Spider-Man and I work with her on my tech,” he said slowly.

The man surveyed his teammates, making deliberate eye contact with each and every one of them. “Traitors, the lot of you,” he huffed.

“I mean you gotta admit it,” laughed Sam. “She’s college age, and built an empire to rival you. Not to mention that she’s pretty, smart, has better PR and actual time management skills-“

“Okay I get it,” the genius cut him off.

“Don’t be upset,” Clint smirked, “you can’t lose if you’re not her competition.”

Tony stomped off.

“Don’t worry about him, he’ll come around,” Steve said gently, nodding at Wanda who was fiddling anxiously with her rings.

“She was cool,” added Nat. “Tony can be a pain in the ass, but he knows she’s a good person.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

<3: i’d say that went pretty well

Wanda: cannot believe you didn’t tell me

<3: i’m really sorry babe, please don’t hate me

Wanda: i could never

<3: just didn’t want him to stop you from fraternising with the enemy or whatever

Wanda: i’d break the rules for you any day

<3: how romantic

<3: so miss rebel, you coming over tonight?

Wanda: depends if you’re still wearing the suit

<3: anything for you ;)

[buckys-black-dress]

✄ chapter one: you flower, you feast

a/n: here's some cocky fratboy bucky because what more do i love then seeing an entitled man getting his ego crushed? nothing. the answer is absolutely nothing.

this is also my first installment of my play the game series ... so like yeah :)

wc: 1.1k words

[fratboy!bucky barnes x fem!reader]

series masterlist

-

Now, it was really not the usual way you would spend your Friday nights. But alas, here you were. In the Alpha Sigma Something house, and the music was really fucking loud.

Quite honestly, you'd rather be anywhere but here right now. Your week of classes had been exhausting, you worked a double shift yesterday, and you just wanted to fucking sleep.

"Nat, listen-" you move in front of her from your spot leaning next to her. "I get it. I really do. You like drinking, you like the cute boys here, but I want to sleep. And I know I'm here to make sure you get back in one piece but-"

"Y/N, I love you, but shut up. We're here to let loose, and this is not helping. Just- here," Natasha pauses, grabbing something from the counter behind her, "drink this. Please."

The bright blue in the cup didn't settle your brain's concerns, but before you could open your mouth to complain, a deep, booming voice stops you.

"Nat! So good to see you, sugar!" Her smile is directed to someone behind you, and you can spin just in time to see this guy smash your roommate into a hug.

"Didn't think you'd show, Sammy. Haven't seen you all week." She smiles and turns to you. She sees the questioning in your eyes before telling you, "Y/N, this is Sam. We have Russian Lit and Psych together. Sam, this is Y/N; my incredibly introverted and homebodied roommate. Maybe this is why she hasn't met you before." Natasha giggles a sickeningly sweet one, and you try not to gag at how unlike herself she sounded.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N! Nat's told me so much about you, 's about time we put a name to the face." Sam gives you the gentlest smile, and you return one while shaking his hand that he stuck out. You've heard his name countless times from Natasha, and he was definitely well-known around your school.

"Same to you, I've heard a lot about you. I don't usually come out, but we both know how stubborn Natasha is." You laugh softly, watching him as he turns back to Natasha to give her a sly look at your words.

"Yeah, she's definitely a handful. Can't say I don't like that, though. She's a real nice refreshing change of pace around here." He snakes an arm around Natasha's middle, and she's more than willing to slot herself next to him.

"Oh! You should introduce her to Buck and Steve, I'm sure one of them needs a partner for pong." Natasha says brightly, like it's the best idea she's had in her entire life.

"Yeah, y'know what, ever since Steve's been seein' that Carter girl, Bucky's been needing a partner." Sam nods to Natasha. "Come, let me introduce you!" He motions for you to follow him, and you share a wide-eyed look that says 'I'm gonna kill you in your sleep and you'll never see it coming' look with your very annoying roommate.

Of course, she just shrugs, gives a coy 'I didn't do anything!' look, and waves her hand for you to follow her.

The three of you weave in and out of the crowd before making it over to a loud table, of course decked out in a painted pong board on it.

You're honestly trying to blend into the crowd, trying to make yourself as small as possible, just to avoid this interaction. You can't help but wonder why Natasha had wanted you to come so bad, because she seemed to have all her own ducks in a row in terms of Sam.

You hear the both of them talking to two extremely beefy men, and you honestly feel yourself wanting to run far, far away and crawl into your room and never leave.

"...And this is her roommate, Y/N," you register Sam's voice, but you're trying to find an escape route.

Before you become successful in your plan, you feel a hand lurching you forward in front of the two guys, who you assume are Steve and Bucky.

Fucking Natasha. I'm gonna kill her.

"Hi, Y/N, it's really nice to meet you. I'm Steve, but you probably already knew that because of Sam." The blond sticks out a hand, and it almost swallows your own in its' sheer size.

You swallow while you struggle to meet the giant's gaze.

"I-It's nice to meet you, too. I've seen you around a little." You say, trying to not sound like a crazy stalker.

"Oh, you haven't met Buck yet, have ya?" He asks, moving out of the way.

You make eye contact with the brunet he pushes forward, who seems just as burly, but has a more menacing smile on his face.

"Hi, I'm Bucky." He says simply, extending his hand out.

But the thing was, that you already knew that.

You've heard quite literally every person on campus talk about James Buchanan Barnes, and let's just say, not everything you've heard are good things.

You've heard it all. The girl in your math class, telling her friend how he 'fucked me and kicked me out. I barely even finished!'

'So did he make you finish?' Her friend asked.

'Well, of course he did,' she scoffed, 'he was good, too, but he didn't have to kick me to the curb like that!' She exclaimed in frustration.

"Nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm Y/N." You return with a weak smile.

"I know, doll." Bucky tells you. The grin on his face is devilish, and the way he shakes your hand while he holds on for a little longer than normal has a shiver running down your spine.

You had a feeling about this boy that you couldn't shake, and you knew he was nothing but trouble.

But you didn't know what about him made you feel that way, and you didn't know if you wanted to know.

“Wanna be pong partners?” The glint in his eyes is nothing short of menacing, but all you could muster was;

“Sure.” With a shy smile.

-

ok chapter one!!! this is kind of just a starter one ! more to come :)

[wherethewordsare]

Birds of a Feather

For @notsafeformurphy who was having a day of it the other day and we got to talking and.... oops this happened. This honestly started out as a nature docu au and ended up a coffee shop au? Idk man.... Anyway, Shay I hope you enjoy this! 

Also tagging @herostag since it was requested. and @jaskierswolf cause I think they’re gonna start yelling at me if i keep forgetting. Going to try to get my tag list back together if anyone is interested. <3 <3 <3 Hope yall enjoy Jaskier huffed as he flopped over again, his body refusing to just relax down into his mattress and let him sleep. It had been a stressful day and to make matters worse, it had been the third night in a row where he was simply unable to sleep. 

Giving up, he reached for his phone, scrolling through youtube for a moment, looking for something that he could just zone out to for a little while. Usually he would put on music or white noise but even that didn’t seem like it would be helpful. He had to find something extremely dull and maybe a bit pretty. 

He scrolled past a thumbnail of three large men in park uniforms. Two of them looked like they were at least somewhat interested in being there while one tall man with near white hair simply scowled at the camera. 

Wild Wednesdays with the Rivia Nature Reserve the title read. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Jaskier huffed as he rolled onto his stomach. He pulled the kickstand of his phone case out and set it up before pressing play and curling his arms around his pillow. 

“This week, we’ll be talking to Geralt Rivia, our resident raptor specialist about what goes into rehabilitation efforts when it comes to conservation,” someone said off camera, cheerily. When the camera panned to Geralt Rivia however, he did not seem to share the narrator’s same upbeat tone. 

For a few minutes, the narrator off camera seemed to try to ask Geralt about himself, only getting stilted answers and that same scowl that had been in the thumbnail. Jaskier snorted with a smirk. 

“You’re not having any of this, are you? You’re gorgeous though,” he chuckled. He felt his back relax as he yawned, snuggling closer into his pillow. 

And then it happened. From off camera, someone handed Geralt a leather glove that he put on easily before taking a cord. He clicked a bit and the scowl he had moments ago melted into a fond smile. 

“And who is this?” the narrator asked. They clearly had picked up on the shift in Geralt’s demeanor as a small falcon took up perch on his forearm. 

He actually cooed at the bird for a moment before holding it up for the camera. “This is Roach. She’s one of our recent rescues.” He smiled, a barely there tilt of his lips and his honey colored eyes softened. Jaskier got the impression on anyone else, it would have been a full grin. 

“Oh, I like that look,” Jaskier murmured, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“And what is Roach?” the person asked off camera. 

Geralt took a step back, turning his arm slightly, causing the bird to flap agitatedly at him as she kept her balance. “Yes, I know, but I have to show off how pretty you are,” he said to the bird, fond and warm. 

“Oh no,” Jaskier whispered into his pillow. “He’s soft and hot.” 

“Roach here is a red-tailed hawk. They’re pretty common through North America,” he explained, pointing out the red-brown of her tail. The hawk nipped at him as he got her to open her wings for the camera and he only chuckled. “She’s about six, the same age as my daughter actually. And,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure which one is less well behaved.” 

Roach must have understood a bit of that because she gave a cry before nipping at Geralt’s hair, clearly annoyed. 

“Listen, if you weren’t so hornery, I wouldn’t say it,” he said to Roach, pulling another scowl but there was clearly no heat in it. 

This was not the same man from the thumbnail or the same man that barely gave answers about himself at the beginning of the clip. When that bird sat on his arm, he lit up and Jaskier was weak. 

Geralt answered a few other questions about hawks and about the reserves program for rehabbing hawks, his voice deep and gravely. He would have sounded gruff if not for how much he clearly loved what he did. 

Geralt looked at Roach a little sadly. “Unfortunately for our little lady here, she won’t be able to return to the wild. Due to her injuries when she came to us, she won’t be able to hunt on her own,” he gave her a soft smile before he petted down her neck gently. 

Jaskier’s eyes were starting to feel heavy. He had turned into the pillow, letting Geralt’s voice wash over him with simple facts about red-tail hawks as he drifted off to sleep. It hadn’t been dull at all but there was something about the way Geralt spoke that just melted him into his mattress. 

When he woke, his phone was dead, probably from being set to autoplay. As it charged, he looked at the videos that had played while he was asleep, most of them from the Rivia Nature Reserve. There were a few specials with other team members but Jaskier picked out the ones that mentioned Geralt Rivia directly. 

It had become a near routine and soon, Jaskier found that he just slept better after watching those nature clips. Sometimes, Geralt wasn’t even on camera, simply walking through the process of population counting for the reserve as the camera panned around to different birds up in the trees. There were other videos featuring Roach the red-tailed hawk as well and it was clear that she was a favorite, not only of Geralt’s but the viewers as well. 

Within three weeks, Jaskier had made his way through nearly the whole catalog of the reserve’s videos. He knew he would move on from tall, silver and brooding and find his next sleep fix but for now he simply enjoyed it. 

~

He should have said no, he should have mentioned that he simply did not do morning shifts, and there was a reason for that, but Essi had been persistent, almost feral about him taking her shift. 

“Please, Jask. I promise, you won’t regret it!” She grinned at him and there was something in her eyes that sent up a dozen red flags. 

“What are you plotting?” He asked flatly, squinting at her over his glass of wine. 

“Not a thing, darling, just trust me on this,” she giggled, sipping her own wine neatly. 

~

It hadn’t been a terrible morning, though Jaskier was barely managing to stay upright by the the coffee grinder. He was used to staying up long nights and it hadn’t changed anything when he knew he would have to open. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

I know you mentioned he had a kid, but he’s single. You’re gonna want to put a blueberry muffin in right now. 

He blinked at his phone, squinting as he tried to decode just what the fuck Essi was saying. 

What?

But he put in the blueberry muffin, his phone on the counter as he watched the three little dots dance where Essi was texting back. 

You still owe me a no questions.

“What the fuck is she even-” Jaskier heard the bell above the door just as he set the timer for the oven. 

“-and so I tell him that if he isn’t going to at least make an attempt to clear out the back trails, we’re going to find a new contractor.” Came a voice behind him. 

Jaskier froze, his hand on his phone. He nearly threw it in a panic. He recognized that voice. He’d recognize that voice in the dark, though to be fair, he usually listened to it in the dark. 

He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, Geralt Rivia was standing at his counter with two others from the nature reserve. 

“Be with you in just a minute!” he tried for cheery and landed firmly in panicked. He ducked behind the large coffee machine and shot a text back to Essi. 

I haven’t decided on whether or not I love you more than anything or if I’m ever going to

speak to you again!

Have fun! ;)

That bitch. It had been a setup! He adored her, the meddling little sneak. He schooled his face the best he could, knowing full well that his ears were still the color of the strawberry frap they served. 

“Morning, what can I get you guys?” He asked as he wet his lips, trying not to stare right into Geralt’s gorgeous face. 

“Three coffees, a blueberry muffin warmed up and a plain bagel, untoasted,” Geralt said offhandedly as he looked around. “No Essi today?” 

“Uh, no. I’m filing in this morning. Jaskier, at your service.” As he dipped his head in a mock bow he internally cursed himself. One day, one normal day, that was all he asked for. “Hope the bagel isn’t for Roach. I’m not sure she’d like it. How is she? We haven’t seen her much recently?” He shot off without thinking as he started to pour the coffees. He froze again as his brain caught up with his mouth. 

Behind Geralt, both of the men snorted. “Looks like you’ve got a fan, pretty boy,” the darker haired one jostled Geralt’s shoulder with a smirk.

Geralt only stood there, tilting his head slightly as though he wasn’t sure what had just happened. 

“Ah, I mean…” Jaskier fumbled, nearly spilling one of the coffees down his own front. 

“She’s doing fine actually,” there was a soft smile on his face, the same he wore when he got to handle the birds directly and Jaskier could feel himself melt on the spot. “Naughty as ever. Learned a new trick to take a swipe at Lambert here if he’s holding the feed bucket,” there was a low rumble of a chuckle. 

The dark haired one behind Geralt stopped laughing abruptly. “She’s a menace.” He growled, picking up his own coffee from the counter. 

Behind Jaskier, the oven dinged. “Oh and your muffin!” He turned, letting himself have the moment his back was to them to silently scream. He had been tricked! He had been set up! He was going to try to get this man’s number and he would never hear the end of it. 

“You already had it in?” Geralt asked, that smile still in place. 

“What can I say, we make sure to take care of our favorite customers.” He was almost proud of himself at how smoothly that had come out as he turned to look back at Geralt. He should have been paying attention to the muffin as it dropped, missing the bag completely and splatting on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier nearly cried. “I am so sorry. Give me, just a moment, I’ll get another one in for you.” 

He watched as Geralt ducked his head, smirking. “Would you like to meet her?” He gave another tilt of his head, his eyes clearly looking Jaskier up and down. 

He was sure he had died. This wasn’t real. This was the good place. Or the bad place. Either way, this place was the place his soul had clearly left his body. He stood there, cold muffin in hand as he gaped at Geralt. 

“Uh-”

“You don’t,” Geralt cleared his throat, “I was just wondering since you seemed… to be a… fan.” His face slipped into a scowl and no. No that wouldn’t do at all. 

“I would love to, yeah. I’m off at three?” 

“Oh! Jaskier! Thank you for coming in to open. I can take it from here,” Essi slipped in beside him, taking the muffin from his hand. “Morning, Dr. Rivia,” she nearly sang, her face smug. 

“Dead. You’re very very dead when I see you again,” Jaskier whispered to her though he couldn’t stop grinning. 

“So you were saying?” Geralt asked, leaning against the counter. 

“Turns out, I’m free as a bird, you’d say.” Jaskier chuckled as he slipped his apron off and made his way around the counter. 

Geralt snorted and rolled his eyes but took his coffee and muffin from Essi. “You know that phrase ‘eat like a bird’ is really not that good of a way of saying that someone doesn’t eat much?” 

Behind them, Lambert scoffed. “Here we fucking go again. I said I was sorry for bringing it up!” 

Later that afternoon he found himself wearing a glove similar to the one he had first seen Geralt in, a small tawny owl bobbing on his arm as he looked on in wonder. He had met Roach and she had nipped at his hair and shirt, screeching when food wasn’t produced. 

“Hmm, let’s get Scorpion. He won’t tear you to shreds,” Geralt gave Roach a fond little tap on her wing with the back of his fingers. 

By the end of the day he left with a few knicks in his fingers and a phone number. He had never slept better.

[ahtsumu]

atsumu: 1, kevin: 0 ; miya atsumu

↳ pairing: miya atsumu x professional women’s volleyball player!reader

↳ synopsis: miya atsumu realises that he’s tired of keeping your relationship “low-key” with a little help from an overzealous fanboy.

↳ genre(s): fluff, humour!!

↳ warning(s): profanity

↳ length: 1.5k words

↳ a/n: surprise!!! lol i have way too many wips rn especially with requests but i wrote this as a little break from all the angst and stuff hence the cheesiness ☺️ enjoy!!

Miya Atsumu was caught in a kerfuffle.

Earlier that day, the twenty-three-year-old setter for the MSBY Black Jackals made the executive decision to come to watch you–– his Mario Kart player number two, his houseplant co-parent, the air-guitarist to his air-drummer, the Karaoke Night pink-lyric-singer to his blue–– kick some volleyball ass in the V. League Division 1 Women's Volleyball Tournament finals. 

The problem?

You played wing spiker for the Schweiden Falkes. 

There was nothing problematic about being a wing spiker on a Division One volleyball team. What was problematic, however, was that the Schweiden Falkes was the sister team of the Black Jackals’ sworn enemy, the Schweiden Adlers. To rub more salt in the wound, the Adlers had won every single game against the Jackals since Atsumu joined (not that they hadn’t prior to his arrival). And to make matters even worse, as one of the nation’s most sought-after athletes, he had to “appeal to both investors and the general population”. Miya Atsumu was supposed to be a marketable bachelor. And he was not.

Miya Atsumu was also not supposed to be at the finals of the women’s volleyball tournament. 

That was the biggest problem of them all. So maybe, actually, Miya Atsumu was mildly ensnared in a few kerfuffles.

The two of you had agreed to keep your relationship low-key from the start and were nearing two years of private, domestic bliss. Questions about each other in interviews were responded to with short and nondescript replies. Outings in public were conducted without physical contact. And despite how Twitter was almost a diary to Atsumu, he’d never once tweeted your name in his life. But as dull as your relationship seemed in public, the two of you were a different story in private. In private, he would find any way to touch you–– a hand in your back pocket, your legs draped atop his thighs, soft lips trailing up from the neck to each other. In private, sweet nothings were proclaimed and not whispered, laughter bubbled like a stream that never ran dry, and Atsumu said your name over and over again like it was habit.

But that didn’t change the fact that, right now, Miya Atsumu was not supposed to be in the nosebleeds of the Sendai City Gymnasium, even if he was hundreds of meters away from the nearest camera.

All the bigger kerfuffles fell quickly to the back of his mind, however, when a smaller and more irritating one presented itself to him. 

A snotty voice declared one row behind Atsumu’s hooded head, “Oi, you’re in the way of the view, jerk.”

Normally, Atsumu would have turned around with an equally cocky sneer on his chiselled features, “the fuck did you just call me?” locked and loaded behind clenched teeth. But when he turned around ready to deliver that exact line, he saw through his black shades that the owner of said snotty voice was none other than a scrawny prepubescent boy.

And that boy (along with the two equally snot-faced twerps beside him) was wearing your jersey number. Suddenly, all the irritation left Atsumu’s face. Was this your little fan club? A wicked cackle threatened to leap out his mouth. They were so annoying. But also, he mused, kinda cute.

“Was I?” he asked with an innocent expression on his face. It was the same one he used when Osamu would accuse him of stealing his clothes (he totally had), or when you would accuse him of eating the last slice of cake in the fridge (he totally did). “I hadn’t realised.” He really hadn’t. He just wanted to milk this for as long as he could.

“Yeah, you were.” The kid crossed his arms, glaring down at the shady guy one row below. “I can’t see the game anymore.”

“Oops–– my bad.”

“Shut up, Kevin, you were watching Y/N!” one of the brats exclaimed, punching Kevin’s shoulder.

Oh? “Yer a fan of Y/N, hmmm?”

“She’s pretty,” Kevin said immediately, shrugging. He just said it out loud like that? So easily? With a subtle wince, Atsumu thought back to the ridiculously long time before he’d admitted his ‘smidge of a crush’ on you. Yeah, unlike you, stupid. “I’m gonna marry her someday.”

At that, Atsumu’s competitive streak jolted awake. He felt himself sober up a little. Not if I marry her first, you little shit.

Bidding the trio goodbye with a bright grin, he turned around and strolled out of the stands. But he didn’t stop there. He stepped into the elevator and rode it straight down to ground level, sailed through the athlete’s entrance with a swipe of his card, and jogged his way to the side of your team bench, making it just in time to see you spike the setpoint past one of their player’s outstretched arms. 

It landed straight on the baseline.

The roar of the stadium scattered into hushed whispers. No one moved. “In,” Atsumu growled under his breath, tapping his feet against the floor. “In in in in in––” He clenched his hands into fists. If they don’t count that as in… 

Finally, the line judge pointed her arms down. The referee nodded.

And all around him, the crowd erupted into cheers.

As confetti fell from above and the Falkes’ victory song began to play, you ran from the court and into a celebratory team hug, screaming ecstatically in each other’s faces. Atsumu, beaming, ducked out of view, not wanting to steal that glorious feeling of a victory hard-earned from you or your teammates. But when the cheering died down, when the hug dispersed, when the television crews started slithering in your direction, he returned to his position behind the bench. And suddenly regretted all the decisions that had led him to that very spot.

Admittedly, Atsumu hadn’t considered the possibility that you wouldn’t want him at your game, but now, standing just metres away from you, he did. His hands suddenly felt very cold and equally moist.

As if on cue, your teary gaze landed on his figure. Your eyes were narrowed in what seemed like a warning. (Really, you were just trying to see better through your tears.)

Oh, no.

Atsumu spun around to make a run for it. At that moment, however, one of the coach’s assistants who’d been sent away to run an errand returned, barrelling through the same door he was heading towards. 

Colliding in a spectacularly embarrassing fashion, Atsumu’s sunglasses flew from his face and his hood blew off from the force of the impact. Disguise in tatters, he could only turn around sheepishly around his hands stretched out, palms up like a magician at the end of a trick.

“Surprise?”

Maybe it was the rush of victory still fresh in your bloodstream or maybe it was simply your brain going haywire, but with complete disregard for you and Atsumu’s original agreement, you ran towards him and leaped into his arms.

“Woah,” he wheezed, instinctively pulling you closer into his chest. “Was not expectin’ that.”

“You’re so stupid,” you murmured, nuzzling your face into his neck. “What are you up to, ‘Tsumu?”

“Unkerfufflin’ myself,” was all he said before gently setting you down. His eyes darted over to the place where Kevin and his gremlins had been and, when he realised that spotting them from here would be useless, lazily flapped a hand in their general direction.

“Some brat said he was gonna marry ya,” Atsumu explained after seeing your brows crease. “I felt I had the duty to save ya from that disaster.”

“By?”

Atsumu blanked. “Er, I, uh, hadn’t thought of that part, actually. I didn’t think you’d be happy to see me here, y’know, considerin’ our agreement and that look on yer face ya had earlie––”

Rolling your eyes, you yanked on his hood, bringing his lips down to yours. His arms snaked around your waist as he deepened the kiss–– he couldn’t help it, it was a knee-jerk reaction by now–– without so much as a second's consideration for the reporters that had swarmed around you like ants to honey. 

You pulled away just a few beats later, both breathless.

“What was that for?” he asked with his forehead pressed against yours. Despite being doused in the blinding flash of cameras and deafened by the barrage of questions shot in your direction, the two of you continued to speak as if you were in your own little world.

“You were about to word-vomit on camera and give Osamu a lifetime’s supply of blackmail,” you replied, giggling. “I thought I’d save you from that disaster.”

Hearing his words come out from your mouth, Atsumu’s eyes waned into little moons. “Consider me saved, doll.”

The noise around you grew louder. You sighed, knowing that the two of you would have a lot to deal with later. As if reading your mind, Atsumu intertwined your hands. I got you. And the unease receded. You’d figure it out together.

“Y/N! Y/N! Are you pregnant?”

“Y/N! Atsumu! When are you two getting married?”

“Can you tell us anything about that steamy kiss?!”

A shit-eating grin crawled onto Atsumu’s face as he grabbed the microphone from that last reporter. “Gladly,” he said, looking into the camera.

“How’s that for bein’ in yer way, Kevin?”

And for the next few hours that the world spent having a meltdown over Kevin’s identity, you and Atsumu remained blissfully tucked away in the comfort of your apartment, playing Mario Kart, baking celebratory cookies to the High School Musical soundtrack, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s heartbeats.