#the first one was a snowflake and i did the bare minimum to make it look like a snowflake before wrapping up the event

[oflgtfol]

FUCK i left my paintings at work and i didnt take a picture of them so i’ll have to wait till FRIDAY to show them off. if i even remember by then

[sprnklersplashes]

snowflakes, sunshine and chance encounters (1/4)

jan and wylan van eck are part of the kerch delegation to the little palace, and a chance encounter for wylan might just change everything

ao3 fanfic fundraiser

The Little Palace. As the coach rattles and rolls down the slope and the first domed roofs rise from the ground, Wylan decides that the descriptions his tutors gave just did not do it justice. 

He leans forward in his sheet, his veins humming in a way that makes him forget the jostling of the carriage. Outside the window, the branches weave and intertwine, scattering the sun’s rays over the ground, before pulling back with a flourish as if to say “here it is”. Ravka is welcoming them and oh, is Wylan receptive guest.

“Would you look at it?” he whispers, scarcely able to believe it. Whatever twist in the universe brought him here, he’ll never be able to thank them enough. The coach door is barely open before he’s jumping out, eyes darting greedily, unsure which detail to land on first. 

Since hearing about the invitation to the Little Palace, the place had become something of an obsession of his, and the hours he would have spent hiding turned into hours in the library of all places, pouring over every illustration of the palace he could find. Eventually, he’d begged his tutor to start lessons on Ravka, and Wylan asked so many questions the poor man was caught off guard. He hung onto every word, asked question after question until he could recite the history in his sleep.

And now that he’s here, that history feels alive. It’s in the wind that ruffles his hair, the gravel beneath his feet, and most of all it’s seeped into the colossal building before him. His father likes to think of Kerch as the centre of the world, from where all commerce and therefore all important things come. And Wylan can admit, there are places in Kerch where he feels that importance pressing down on him with a little too much weight.

Except now he’s standing here, before this magnificent, sprawling palace, surrounded by endless lush gardens, and Ketterdam has never felt so insignificant. How can such a tiny country, little more than a few clumps of land on the water, compare to this? Ketterdam makes him feel suffocated, squashed by the legacy his blood carries. Here, he feels like little more than a piece of dust on a curtain and he relishes it.

Until a hand pulls at his sleeve, and the world immediately constricts. 

“Stop gawking Wylan,” his father hisses. “And for Ghezen’s shake, stand up straight.”

I am, he thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it out loud. He decided when his father first told him about this trip that he’d take the approach of ‘sit down, shut up, smile through it’. It’s either that or risk arguing his way through the next three days, and it feels a shame to ruin such a wonderful opportunity like that.

His father appears in his vision, his brow tight as he fiddles with Wylan’s tie. Sweat prickles at Wylan’s back, the way it often does when his father is this close to him. He fights to keep himself relaxed. His father won’t strike him here, not in broad daylight, with all these people milling around.

“Remember why we’re here, Wylan,” he tells him. His voice is low and cold, a thinly veiled threat wrapped around it. “We’re representing the Merchant Council. And-” The tie jabs into his throat, and Wylan squeaks. “You are representing this family. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t sir.” Wylan isn’t even sure he heard him. Jan just barrels on, eyes trained on Wylan’s shirt because it isn’t his face.

“You are to let me do the talking. You speak only when you are spoken to and you keep conversation to a minimum and for for the love of everything sacred, do not let these people know about you.” He grabs Wylan’s shoulder. “Maybe we can both make it through this trip in one piece. Understood?”

Wylan gulps. The implication is clear. 

“Understood sir,” he replies. His father smiles then, and straightens the laurel pin attached to his jacket. To anyone else, Jan Van Eck just whispered words of encouragement to his son before fondly fixing his clothes. If Wylan looks a little pale or anxious, his father had simply done his best to ease his nerves. 

Attendants carry their bags across the grounds and are escorted by a pair of maids to their rooms. Wylan really would have preferred to carry his own bag; he doesn’t like the idea of his sketchbook and sheet music in anyone’s hands but his. But they are guests of a King. Royals do things differently, he’s told. 

Almost as soon as their attendants fade out of sight, a palace guard appears behind them, so suddenly that Wylan almost bites his own tongue off. From there, they’re rushed off to meet their hosts for the next few days. Wylan tries to keep a few paces behind his father, as has become their routine. First the father, then the son. However, the guard has a tight trail on them and as they start ascending the low stone steps, Wylan finds himself right at his father’s side. 

As they’re led across the opening foyer, Wylan dares to glance at his father, already picturing the look of disgust at Wylan’s proximity. But to his surprise, his father seems all right. He’s already smiling politely, chest proud and eyes shining, and in that moment Wylan can breathe. It’s okay. He hasn’t messed up.

With a pace so quick Wylan has to try not to trip, the guards walk them through the foyer and a hallway and then a heavy pair of oak doors are opened.

“The Kerch delegation, General,” the guard announces. Together, Wylan and his father approach, their footsteps matched beat for beat. When they come to a stop, just a few feet from the General, its at precisely the same second and Wylan folds his hands behind his back. The smile on his face is perfectly respectful and perfectly restrained, an exact imitation of his father’s. 

(He can’t not think, in that moment, that he could be such a perfect heir if one thing were different)

General Kirigin turns to them. His dark eyes seem to go on forever; they remind Wylan of when he was little and his mother told him the canal had no bottom to it, so if he fell in he’d just keep falling. That had terrified him, and he never leant over the side of a browboat again.

“Councilman Jan Van Eck, General,” his father says warmly. “The Merchant Council is most grateful for your invitation to the winter fete.”

“And Ravka is pleased to see you, Councilman,” Kirigan replies. “We hope this will signal a revived friendship between our nations.” He smiles, but it feels wrong. Something curls in Wylan’s gut, something unpleasant. When his gaze turns to Wylan, it feels as if it cuts right through him. Panic seizes him for a second, because absurd as it is, he feels certain the general can see his ‘condition’ written over his face. 

“My son and heir, Wylan Van Eck,” Jan announces. Wylan takes his cue and steps forward with his hand extended.

“An honour to be here, General,” he says. Kirigan shakes his hand curtly. “I studied the Little Palace in great detail before our arrival, but honestly that didn’t quite prepare me for seeing it myself. The architecture of the Palace is truly remarkable, a brilliant feat, and-”

There’s a sharp poke at his back. The words halt in his throat, his tongue pressed against his teeth. Clumsily, he clears his throat and pulls them back in the way one would an unruly dog. An apology runs to the front of his mind but he holds it there as Kirigan’s eyes glimmer at him. He almost looks amused. Whether he’s laughing at or with Wylan remains to be seen.

Seconds pass, they feel like hours, and then Kirigan smiles.

“A student of architecture, then?” he asks. Wylan exhales, and the rush almost leaves him dizzy.

“I dabble,” Wylan says. “Although the Little Palace truly leaves everything I’d studied behind.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Kirigan replies. “My forefathers put a lot of work into this place. It’s nice to know its still appreciated.” Externally Wylan just smiles and nods. Internally, he’s caught between asking all the questions he’d held in his mind and collapsing on the floor in sheer relief. Meanwhile, Kirigan signals a guard. “Show the Van Ecks to their room and see they’re settled. And please, take advantage of all the winter fete has to offer.” The door opens behind them. “You are, after all, guests of the Crown.”

As they turn to leave, Wylan goes to stand behind his father again, Kerch hierarchies still drilled into his bones. This time however, it’s not the guard that pulls him forward. It’s his father, his hand firm on Wylan’s back. Of course, to everyone else, it’s probably nothing, just a father and son walking side by side. And for a moment, it feels like that for Wylan. But then they pass through the doors and into the hallway. And with only the guards watching, Jan closes his hand around Wylan’s wrist. His nails dig into the skin right above his vein and Wylan holds back a whimper.

“We must thank Ghezen that for once, someone found your babbling endearing,” he hisses. “Next time, keep your mouth shut.”

While his father thanks Ghezen for Wylan’s endearing babbling, Wylan thanks him for giving them separate rooms, albeit connected by an adjoining door. His bags have already been brought up by the attendant and, after a quick check, he finds his sketchbook and sheet music are right where he left them. He brushes a hand over them, feeling the pages beneath his fingers and it slows his heart down. 

He’s done it. He can do it again. Two more days. 

He’s just shrugged off his jacket when his father opens the door and tells him to put it back on. When Wylan asks if they’re going somewhere, he rolls his eyes, and the shame he felt in front of Kirigan now returns tenfold.

“We didn’t come all this way just to sit and look at each other, Wylan,” he says. “There’s a carnival going on outside and the Kerch delegation cannot be seen to be reclusive.” His jaw tightens. “Unfortunately for me, neither can his son. Come. And for Ghezen’s sake, and yours, at least try to act like a competent heir.”

General Kirigan seemed perfectly happy with me, he thinks, but he doesn’t dare speak it out loud. His father might disagree, but sometimes he knows exactly when to keep his mouth shut.

Despite the unyielding presence of his father, the carnival set up in the palace grounds is quite splendid. The sky is a pale blue, the cold air tickles his cheeks and makes his breath appear in small puffs in front of his face. Everywhere he turns there seems to be something new to look at. If he tried to draw the scene, it could take hours and he still wouldn’t capture everything. 

While his father mingles, Wylan takes advantage of his distraction and takes a look around. He applauds the troupe of acrobats performing. He listens with rapt attention as a music trope play Ravkan folk songs. As he listens, he taps the rhythm on his leg. Hopefully, he can commit it to memory enough so that he can write out the flute part later. He’s not given Ravkan songs a try yet.  

After memorising the rhythm, he moves through the rest of the festival, itching to see as much as he can. He gazes up at the ice sculptures, takes a second look at the gardens, even makes polite chitchat with other delegates. One compliments him on his Ravkan, another asks about his studies. He rattles off subjects in near-perfect Ravkan, making sure to discuss his favourites in as much detail as he can. Soon enough, he’s told them more than they needed to know about his research into Zemeni folklore, but none of them seem bored. 

“Accomplished young man!” he declares, clapping Wylan’s shoulder. “Your father must be proud.”

Wylan keeps smiling. It hurts his cheeks. 

Somewhere in his wandering, Wylan finds himself in a maze of games stalls. All around him, young children are dashing and pushing each other over. He’s not massively interested in knocking over glass bottles or throwing balls through hoops, especially when they’re already swarmed by small children. But when he finds a fairly-empty stall for a kind of shooting game, he decides to try his luck. All going well, he can strike up another conversation about shooting with some more delegates.

He hands some money to the girl over the counter and she hands him a rifle. It’s a little heavier than the guns he’s used before, but once the girl has set up the targets, he decides it feels all right. The girl ducks out of the way as he positions himself, right foot forward, leaning into the shot, shoulder back and the gun mounted just slightly upwards. After he nods, the girl pulls a string and the clay targets move slowly across their shelves. 

And really, it’s not bad shooting. He’s a little unbalanced to start with, but he digs his heels and the gun becomes far easier to control. No, he doesn’t win, but by the time he’s done, more than half of the little targets are broken or at least chipped and for that, he allows himself a small, satisfied smile.

Behind him, someone lets out a low whistle. He freezes then, cheeks burning like coalfire. On instinct, he braces himself for the scolding, the mocking comment, or the demand that he leave and get back to where he belongs. 

What he isn’t expecting though, is for the someone to stroll right up to him, leather coat billowing behind them and each step so sure, like it’s in fact his palace and Wylan is his most anticipated guest.

“Nice shooting,” he says. He’s a good foot taller than Wylan, dressed in a plaid suit and a brown waistcoat only half buttoned. The tie is so loose and low it hardly qualifies as a tie, and his top hat sits at a jaunty angle, matching the crooked smile crinkling his brown eyes. 

“T-thank you.”

“You ever shot before?”

“Skeet,” he explains. “My father and I often play at the range in Belednt.”

“Skeet,” the boy echoes. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wylan squeaks. He’s aware that he’s forgetting every rule of etiquette, but something about this boy’s response struck him. If he’s waiting to see if Wylan will get up and swing back, well, he’s about to find out.

But maybe he didn’t. Because he’s just laughing, as if he just told Wylan the funniest joke in the world.

“I only mean,” he says. “That you shoot like a gentleman. You look like you’re afraid of hurting it.”

“It’s how I was raised,” he replies. “With everything. How would you shoot them?” With a grin that feels almost unfamiliar, Wylan turns the gun around and holds the handle out to him. There’s a spark in the boy’s eye as he takes it, and a similar one ignites in Wylan’s chest. It leaves him slightly breathless.

Wylan watches as the boy saunters to the podium, brimming with an ease Wylan could only dream of having. 

“Five vlacha for three tries.” The boy freezes then. His unshakeable smile cracks for just a second, but then he’s leaning on the table and pushing up the brim of his hat. 

“Don’t suppose you take kruge, do you?” The attendant just raises an eyebrow. If Wylan were in that situation, he’d turn and leave then (or pray for the ground to swallow him), but this boy just grins wider, turns so that half his chest is across the stand, and drops his voice. “Well, in that case… maybe there’s another way I could pay?”

“Oh Ghezen,” Wylan declares. He fishes in his pocket and drops five vlacha on the table. Immediately after he’s done it, he regrets it, certain he’s gone too far. But as the attendant takes the money and arranges the targets again, he just smiles.

“Not jealous there, were you?”

“Mm, not really. Embarrassed though, definitely.”

“Oh really?”

“I felt compelled to save the poor girl from that disastrous flirting attempt,” he goes on. “Do those lines work on the girls at home?”

“Oh, all the time,” he says. Then he winks, “Not just the girls.”  

Despite the cold, his cheeks flush. The boy’s fingers brush his and Wylan’s toes curl.

“Whenever you’re ready, sir,” the attendant says.

Oh right. That.

Wylan takes a step back as he boy twirls the gun with an impressive level of control. In his hand, the gun doesn’t seem like a weapon or even a tool, just an extension of his long limbs. In the time it takes Wylan to breathe, he fires two shots in succession, shattering two targets. Then, with a grace Wylan can’t comprehend, he tosses the gun, catches it and shoots again. Wylan’s heart pounds watching it, the shots reverberating and crackling through his veins.

Then, the boy turns to him, winks, and twirls. His coat billows around him like a small tornado, and the shot fires a split second before he stands still.

Crash Crash Crash. The remaining targets splinter into confetti-sized pieces, small whisps of smoke rising from them. Wylan’s breath is caught in his throat, and his mind practically trips over itself as it tries to catch up with what he’s seeing. 

While Wylan tries to formulate a response, the boy speaks with the attendant, tries to charm her once more, and accepts something placed in his hand. But when the boy turns to him, all that can come out is a small, “Wow”. His response is a small half-bow, high enough so that he doesn’t break Wylan’s gaze.

“Well, I try my best,” he replies. “Here.” His hand curls around Wylan’s wrist. The callouses are rough, his skin is warm, and his grip is just firm enough to keep Wylan from falling. Something soft is pressed into his hand.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” he protests. “You-you won it.”

“I’d have no use for it,” he replies. “Besides, you should have something other than amazing shots to remember me by.” Wylan chuckles. The crackling he’d felt builds and it’s like every nerve in his body is sparking. Especially around his wrist. The distance between them shortens, two puffs of white breath mingling between them. In his peripheral vision, Wylan sees his hand, and for a moment he wonders if he’s about to touch him. Or draw him closer. Oh Ghezen, he can’t even think what he’ll do then, if he’ll turn and run or pull him in.

Thankfully, a small, stern voice makes that choice for him.

“Jesper.” The boy turns and Wylan follows, and a few feet from them he sees a small Suli girl in a blue tunic, her eyebrows raised. “Let’s go.”

The boy-Jesper- slides back from Wylan and lets go of his wrist. He doesn’t look upset about it though. Nor does he look guilty or surprised or anything. He just grins and moves as if he’s just been asked to the dancefloor.

“Of course, love,” he replies, unaffected by the look on her face. That kind of look would have made Wylan faint were he on the receiving end. 

And when Jesper turns to say goodbye, the look on his face makes Wylan want to faint for different reasons.

“Enjoy the rest of the festival then,” he says. His voice is low, barely a whisper, and Wylan is foolish enough to believe that this means something just for them. That when this boy walks off with his friend and does whatever he’s going to do next, he’ll remember Wylan as something other than a rich boy he impressed with his shooting. 

As he watches that coat and that ridiculous hat melt into the crowd, Wylan curls his fingers around the prize he pressed into his hands. He should’ve given it back, but he was too busy thinking about the shape of his lips and replaying those damn gunshots in his head. 

He opens his hands. Inside is a white cloth square, embroidered with a blazing orange and yellow sun. Delicately woven gold silk shines in the background, giving the impression of a real sun pulsing between his fingertips. Behind him, another group take a turn at the game. There’s probably dozens, hundreds of these trinkets there. Who knows how many guests have one.

But he’s holding onto his like it's one of a kind. 

[justmultifandom]

Kidge winter event

Day 7: Cooking (Modern AU)

The snowflakes danced on the house driven by the wind and the freezing current on the illuminated city. From the windows you could see New York, beautiful and crowded as always, snow-capped and silent. Katie focused again on the dough in her hands, which had stuck to her hands as she looked outside. She grunted, trying to get more flour from the paper bag, but she unexpectedly dropped it and grunted again. Luckily she managed to get enough of the dough off her hands, she went to the sink and started washing her hands. Her university classes were quite tiring, not to mention the endless days she spent in the huge penthouse studying instead of enjoying the Big Apple. She had many times received invitations from other students in the same classes as her, or with Lance and Hunk, hell, she had even promised Keith a proper date, so that they wouldn't always have to only see each other late at night. After all, he was as busy and tired with his job in the army as she was with university.

She dried her hands, took a vacuum cleaner and cleaned up the mess on the cold, dark wooden parque. She had managed as much as she could to remedy the neutrality of how she had found the apartment upon her arrival, bare and without a minimum of personality, and, even if not much had changed, there were still beautiful curtains and green plants, frames with photos of important friends, and a huge painting of a green lion hanging on the bare white wall.

Katie continued baking the damn cookies. After finishing studying she went to bed without dinner, completely exhausted, but she couldn't sleep, so she looked for a rather simple recipe for beginners online. Maybe she could give some to Keith when he returned, or to Hunk for some advice. She rolled out the dough with a rolling pin, then took some tender tree-shaped molds that belonged to her mother. She didn't jump when the front door suddenly opened with disturbing slowness, revealing a figure dressed in black and dusted with snow. She smiled as he dropped the bag in the corner. She always kept the front door open even at night, also because only two attics were housed on her floor and the security was too rigorous to overcome it.

“How strange, I thought you lived in the appartament 2001, Keith”: she laughed at him, looking up and placing her dirty hands on the island.

“I've been away for a long time, I just wanted to see you”: he returned a smile, putting his hands in his pockets and moving closer to her, and when he was next to her, he helped her by moving the dough molds on a layer of flour.

“Aren't you tired?”: she asked.

“Yes, but my girlfriend is more tired than me and she is making delicious cookies. If I help her she will go to bed early and so I will be able to fall asleep more easily, next to her": he smiled, touching her cheeks and dirtying them with flour.

“It's very sweet, but I'm fine, plus I haven't been on a military base in Texas for a week…”: she laughed at him, throwing a handful of white powder on his uniform. Her jacket and pants got dirty, as did her face and the floor, but they didn't care.

“I trained my body, you trained my mind, that's really tiring”: he shrugged his shoulders, concentrating not to break the thin pastry: “How's university going?”

“Excellent, I'd say, the first semester is over. Finally!”: she rejoiced calmly.

“Does this mean you're finally going to take a break from studying?” His purple eyes darted over her.

“Maybe”: she nodded with a smile: “And it also means that one day you will take me out on the date I promised you”

He smiled again as he watched her take the pan and put the cookies in the oven. She sighed putting her hands behind her back, a proud expression on her face.

“Good, we have 20 minutes”: she turned to look at him again, leaning against the island without getting her sweater dirty: “What do we do? Will you go back to your apartment and unpack your suitcase and then come back here as soon as I call you?”

“What if I stay here?”: he looked at her penetratingly.

“You will still be welcome”: she smiled, forgetting about the scattered flour and sitting on the island to tower over him, bringing him closer and pulling him into a kiss. He reciprocated eagerly, placing his hands on either side of her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his back.

After 30 minutes they remembered the burnt biscuits in the oven.

[fancysimpinghere]

Euphories pt.4 (Sykkuno x reader)

Well, hello everyone! I want to deeply apologize for such a long break in posting there. We all know how hard life can sometimes be. But I arrived with a finish of this story and I hope you will like it! Enjoy!

summary: all good things eventually come to the end and insecurities aren't helping. Adult life is hard, so are decisions. Even if mistakes happen, there would be something to do to fix your frienship. And who knows, maybe things would evolve into something deeper and more advanced than simple relation between friends?

It has been two months since your first encounter with this pretty boy. Luckily, your schedule wasn’t that busy in summer months, so you could visit Thomas in his grandfather’s shop at least twice a week. Your friendship was blossoming, you both surprisingly had a very good contact. When you visited the shop, Thomas usually was waiting for you with one of the magic cassettes, but sometimes he was just showing you around. Actually, you found yourself almost working with him, because you were helping him with unpacking new items, organizing things and cleaning. It was very fun for both of you - you could spend more time together and get to know each other. But you had your own job as well, and summer time was slowly ending. You knew that if you want to keep seeing Thomas, you have to bring your friendship to another level and start to meet up outside. Little did you know that he rarely left shop or house. These places were his comfort zone and You didn't want to push him to do something really demanding. You decided to give him some time to get accustomed to your presence in his life and let Sykkuno make this important step. All you could do then was wait and do your best to gain his trust even more than you had already. When holidays ended, you were sad, because that means less free time - and less time spent with Thomas. But you still came to his shop, even if you were tired or had to sacrifice your sleep time. Sometimes you helped his grandfather with some simple chores, made some cookies for them both or just kept him company - you knew that older people seek attention from others and you couldn't say no to him. But to be honest, it was difficult to bring together your new lifestyle with your old one. Of course you liked Sykkuno, and you felt about him a little different than an ordinary friend - you liked him more and this was also not easy. You were afraid that if he found out about your little secret, it would scare him away and you would lose him as a result. Day by day you were trying to shove your feelings away and focus on helping him, but every moment spent with Thomas started to feel like too much for you. You were worried if he noticed small changes in your behaviour, but he seemed fine. Because of that, you started to lose yourself in work - your amount of free time dropped almost to the bare minimum because of afterhours, and even if you had a free day, you were too tired to visit your friend.

On the other hand, Thomas was internally freaking out. In the end of holidays he started to catch feelings for you, but was too afraid to admit it even to himself. He enjoyed your company a little bit too much, and you started to look better than before in his eyes. But he was sure that you are too good to him and you deserve better than a shy boy with nothing to offer. So he was amazed that you still visited him after your work started and spent your precious time with him. He was absolutely affected by your kindness and willingness to help.

He knew that if he wants to keep you even as a friend, he has to do something. You were his only friend and after these months spent together, he couldn't imagine his life without you. So when you started to visit his shop less often, he felt hopeless. Sykkuno was sure that he bored you out of his life because of his strange addiction to video games and antisocial lifestyle. He didn’t know what to do. His low self-esteem was not helping him with putting his thoughts together. After the first two weeks without your visit to his home or shop, he was devastated. Nothing from his special collection of games and films could make him completely happy anymore, because his thoughts were occupied by you. But one day, when he was organizing his special cassettes, a movie caught his eye. When he read the title, an idea sprung to his mind and he was that desperate for your presence, he almost instantly made a decision.

*********************************************

You started to feel a bit nostalgic when you were looking through the window at falling snowflakes. It was the first snow of the year, so you were also a little bit excited. But when you were sitting in a small cafe in your town, a cup of hot chocolate in front of you, memories slowly creeping from the back of your head. Memories of sad past months, but also of warm and joyful summer. But the most important thought in your mind was the reason for your presence in the cafe. Your fingers unconsciously wandered on the screen of your phone to once again open a message from your friend Thomas. You had strong remorse for leaving him alone and don't contacting him in almost a month. You didn't know what to expect from today's meeting with him, but you were shocked that he invited you to a public place, where there could be a lot of people. Your line of thinking was cut, when small bells over the door frame rang and someone entered the cafe. You guessed it was your company for today - hood covered his head and his face was covered by black mask, but you were sure that this is your friend, whom you haven't seen for almost 2 long months. You noticed his lack of gloves - his hands were red from the cold temperature outside. He still got snowflakes on his massive hoodie, but they were melting away. Even if you felt a little bit awkward, you felt a strange warmth in your chest at the sight of him. You longed to hear his soft voice and laugh, and your heart squeezed just at the thought of it.

He paused for a while to look for you among other people present at the cafe and his gaze finally met yours. He shyly headed towards you and slowly pulled off his hood and mask, so you could recognize him as you haven't done it already. Even from a distance you could say that he was nervous, his hands were making some awkward movements and his eyes shifted from one person to another, like he was expecting somebody to attack him. Finally he was standing right in front of your table and you felt terribly for leaving him with poor excuses about work. He looked bad, just as you - sleepless nights put their marks on your face and you recognized them on his face too. Before he could say anything, you stood up immediately, and reduced the distance between you two. You looked him deep in the eye and hugged him carefully to not scare him. You didn’t care about other people, because you especially chose a more private area of the cafe, in the corner and a massive part of it was covered by plants. You felt Thomas tensing up after you embraced him, but after a few seconds he relaxed and hugged you back.

- "I'm so sorry, Sykkuno." - whisper left your mouth before you could think about forming a more developed sentence, but these words were only one in your mind right now. - "I missed you so much."

At these words he hugged you tighter and you could swear that he smiled like he always did when he was embarrassed.

- "I missed you too." - he whispered back, straight to your ear. You felt butterflies waking up in your stomach at his closeness and blushed a little.

- "It’s nice to- nice to see you, hm." - he stuttered a little and moved his arms away from you, so you did the same. You both sat down and you looked at his face again. Small blush creeped his cheeks, but it could be from the temperature change. - "I was afraid that you wouldn't have time for… For me."

He looked at you like a lost puppy and you felt awful. But before you could say something, he gave you a very warm and wide smile.

-"But you had and I'm happy about it." - he said and started to look for something in his pockets. - "I know that you are a very hard working person and I wanted to thank you for helping me and my grandfather despite this." - it was the longest sentence you ever heard from him, so you were a little bit speechless, but he looked like he wanted to say something more. However, you felt guilty and you had to apologize to him properly.

- "Thomas, I’m sorry. "- you interrupted before he could continue. - "I'm sorry for non contacting you in days and I know it was wrong. I… I can explain why I did this."

- "You don't have to. "- He answered and his search finished with success, because he placed down something rectangular on the table. - "I asked you for a meeting, because I realized something during the past months. And I can't keep this a secret any more."

He was looking even more nervous now. He hid his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie, because they were trembling a little. You also noticed that his face is clearly and non deniable red almost like a tomato, and he was a little bit hesitant when speaking. You decided to not interrupt him this time, and you also felt nervous. He looked at the window to search for the right words or find the courage, you assumed. But then he suddenly returned his gaze to you.

- "What is it, Thomas?" - you asked softly to encourage him to share his thoughts with you. You decided to use his real name to show you are taking him seriously. Deep in your heart you felt a little spark of hope, but you didn't want to make expectations and then be dissapointed. You watched his movements carefully, your eyes dropping to the item lying before him, and you finally recognized the thing. It was a cassette thanks to which you could know him. Your mouth opened in surprise and when he noticed that, he smiled coyly, but stress was still recognizable on his face.

- "I wanted to tell you for a long time, but… I… I couldn’t find the courage. But now, I decided that I have to do this." - words left his mouth faster than usual, and his eyes nervously watched your reaction. He sighed and blinked a few times. -" You are my best friend, my only friend, but I realized I like you a lot more than that."

You were completely speechless. You didn't even imagine this scenario - it was too perfect to be real, but there you are. Your mind exploded with a sudden wave of joy and happiness, because the dearest person you know just admitted to liking you back. You smiled sincerely to him and he had to notice a spark of joy in your gaze, because he stopped talking and just watched you with his big eyes.

- "Thomas, I like you too. "- you said in answer, honestly looking into his eyes. -" I didn’t know how to tell you, so I distanced myself fro you, because I didn’t want to scare you or… "- you didn’t finish and all of sudden felt embarrassed for your lack of initiative.

- "I thought it would be nice to talk about it in the place where our friendship started. "- he said slowly and carefully moved the cassette on the table towards you. He looked down for a second, then returned your gaze. He looked more determined than before and smiled at you once again. You could look at his smile forever - there was nothing more cuter than his expressions.

- "So…Would you like to accompany me on this journey?" - he asked softly and pulled out his hand to you from the sleeve. He watched your reaction carefully.

- "Yes, I definitely would." - You giggled and blushed a little, but gently grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

He tightened his grip on your hand and you both touched the cassette with your other hands. The world started to spin, and even when you started falling down, all you could feel in this moment was falling in love with this cute, lovely boy, soon to be your boyfriend, who held your hand like his life depended on it and laughed at the strange sensation. You couldn't help and joined him, looking forward to experiencing the best adventure - and you were certain that it would be the best, because you had the greatest companion in the whole world.

~fin~

[cno-inbminor]

domus

a/n: here we have another short drabble dump! i wrote this up very quickly -- i’m still working on that long fic i’ve been talking about! i apologize for taking so long to put it together. pls take this short fic as an apology for now. stay hydrated, wear your masks, and be safe! love you all so dearly <3 

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else. 

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi 

wc: ~3.7k, will probably have other parts in the future.

genre/warnings: angst with dashes of fluff; mentions of alcohol

pt. 2 | pt. 3

edit: now crossposted to AO3!

When you’re in love, you spend weeks and months wondering why time won’t stop. You sit and ponder over why you’ll have to die someday and leave behind the person you’ve dedicated your entire soul to, or what might happen if your death came early and you didn’t get to say goodbye. You wonder why the seasons seem to pass you by so quickly, that in the blink of an eye, you go from enjoying a cup of iced tea on the porch to holding a mug of hot chocolate inside watching snowflakes swirl in their journeys to the ground.

But when love ceases to exist, time seems to stop. The days drag for longer, the seasons crawl at a turtle’s pace, and the inevitable end feels less terrifying. You no longer fear the eventual sagging of your skin or the spider legs that grow at the corners of your eyes. You no longer cling onto a hope that there will be a lover’s hand holding yours at your bed of eternal sleep. You simply become, just you. Solitary, single, independent you.

It’s no longer you and someone else. The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, a whimper leaving your throat. You shakily reach over for the next blouse and fight back the tears, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. The skin is chapped and broken to the point that you would need layers and layers of chapstick to save any semblance of it, a terrible habit that you wish you hadn’t possessed. It’s muscle memory, the way you fold the blouse in half, fold the sleeves in, bending it over your arm before it lands in a neat stack of other tops in your suitcase. Your eyes take a glance at the clock, and you gather you have about another hour before you needed to leave for the airport and make it on time for your flight.

You ignore the male figure hunched over on the edge of your bed, tuning out his pleas and broken promises. He begs you to give him time, to implore that it’s all his fault and he’ll make it work for the two of you. Tetsuro promises that he didn’t mean to and that it wasn’t anything you did, but you feel so empty inside that you can’t even find the energy to argue, to turn on him and say that he was pretending to take all the blame so it’d be a better explanation to all your friends. A relationship involves both parties, and while there were special exceptions, this wasn’t one of them. Something was clearly wrong with you, and you were okay with that. You were just tired of Testuro attempting to take everything onto himself.

“I thought it’d be best to come clean with you,” he says, throat hoarse from lack of hydration. “I know you would question it and I haven’t done anything, I swear, I know you’re amazing and don’t deserve to live a lie and—”

“Do you want me to say ‘thank you’?” You interjected quietly, morosely. Your hands slide open the underwear drawer and take out a week’s worth of underwear, bras, and bralettes. “Do you want me to express my gratitude in your honesty for telling me that you don’t love me anymore? You can easily buy a trophy online and make the inscription yourself. ‘Most honest man alive’? Is that what you want?” You ask, tone flat and not possessing the least bit of amusement and humor.

“Can’t you give me some time? I’ll try, I’ll try to figure out what went wrong, and I can love you again. We can still get married and everything, but please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving forever, Tetsu. I’m just gone for a week, maybe more.”

“Where are you even going?”

“That’s none of your business,” you quickly reply, defenses back up as you make a beeline for the bathroom. You pick up all the toiletries you can, the ones that would be allowed in your carry-on. Strangers won’t care about your missing skincare routine and your complexion not looking its best.

“What if you get lost? Or kidnapped? What if people ask—”

“Easy. Just tell them I had a last minute business trip, family emergency, whatever floats your boat.”

“Can’t you see that I’m trying? I—”

“This isn’t just about you!” You snap, whirling around to look at him for the first time in the last hour or so. Testuro notices with a pang in his heart that your cheeks have sunken in slightly since he broke his revelation to you just last week, the eye circles darker than ever. But your eyes are soulless, dead, no shine or spark that he’d wake up to every morning even muddled with sleep.

“You can’t just expect me to be okay and continue to bend over backwards for you without question. The least you could do is give me my time, give me some space to think about all of it. That’s the bare minimum.”

And with that, you zip your suitcase shut, grab your passport (even though you probably don’t need it), keys, wallet, and phone, and walk as quickly as you can to the front door. The scheduled Uber will arrive in just a few minutes, and as you slip into a pair of flats, you can hear the creak of the bed and Testuro’s padded steps nearing you.

“Just be careful, okay? Call me if you need anything, anything. You’re still one of the most important people to me, so just �� text me at some point. Let me know you’re alive at least.”

“You need to rest. You’re on call tomorrow,” you digress while opening the door.

“(Y/n)—”

“I’ll text you. Promise.”

And the door shuts behind you.

-

Your relationship with Akaashi Keiji is…hard to explain. In fact, you’re not even sure what to refer him as in your life. Anytime you spoke of him or attempted to explain, you’d fumble over words and draw blanks. While it was irritating and aggravating at times, you learned to just accept it.

Akaashi Keiji was the neighbor down the street, two years older, and someone who had known you since you were 8. Your moms were attached at the hip not longer after you moved to Tokyo, and that meant holidays were spent together, impromptu get-togethers and dinners were a common occurrence, and you saw him frequently at school. He was a quiet soul, gentle, but reserved. In fact, most of the things you knew about him were secondhand conversations from your mother talking about the family, because honestly his mom was basically your second mom now, and your mother trusted you with everything. His past, his troubles, his personality all relayed through your mom from his own, and when you saw him in the hallways, he wasn’t much of an enigma to you. Many other girls had found the mysterious air around him to be attractive, that the pretty setter who only ever smiled around his volleyball team and kept a tight circle of friends had something significant beneath the layers.

Keiji grew up with you, playing Smash on the Wii to pass time as your parents gossiped away. Sometimes, you’d play an intense game of Monopoly with him, a game that typically tipped in his favor. He never said much about himself, always relayed more about others that overlapped in your lives. The most he ever spoke to you about was when it came to teachers at school, even giving you some of his old notes and pointers. But even you could tell that he kept his guards up, and you wondered if he even classified you as a friend.

Your go-to explanation of Keiji’s standing in your life was a family friend. But that insinuated you were close with him, which you weren’t at all. No matter how many times he walked home with you (mainly at the pushing from his mother), no matter how many times he was forced to entertain you at dinners and holidays, no matter how many times he gave you a small smile in school, there was such a large gap between the two of you. He always seemed so different around his team, like they had the privilege of knowing the real him, and at times, you felt…jealous.

And the weird thing is that you can rely on him somehow – whether it be because he’d get an earful from his parents if he didn’t help you when you asked it or out of the goodness of his heart, he was simply always there. Sometimes, you were bold enough to text him about a show he talked about in the past, and he would reply quickly as if your unexpected, rare text about something benign didn’t faze him at all.  

Yet despite the distance, despite the lack of any semblance of an actual friendship with him, he was the first one you thought of when all this happened. He was the one you wanted to see – maybe it’s because he was the closest thing to home, and you didn’t want to go back to your parents explaining everything. It’s been a while since you’ve been back in Tokyo, ever since you moved to Sapporo for your job and Testuro got matched for a residency at a hospital there.

At 7PM on a Friday afternoon, past the baggage claim with the sunset beaming in through the sliding glass doors, you stare at Keiji’s contact on your phone, thumb hovering hesitantly over the call button. You could count the number of times you’ve called him on one hand, but this was an emergency, right? Is this why your heart is pounding against your chest, so anxious that you feel like you’ll break into a cold sweat any time soon?

You jump into the deep end.

Your hand nervously brings the phone to your ear, waiting with bated breath as the dial tone echoes in the chamber of your brain. Part of you wants him to miss the call so you can avoid this awkward conversation, but another part of you desperately wants him to pick up as if he’ll be able to save you.

Oh god oh god oh god, you panic as the tone stops, there’s a pause, a rustle, and then a hesitant, “—Hello?”

You didn’t plan this out. You’re not ready for this. Shit, what are you supposed to say?

“—hello? (Y/n)?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

Wow, you’re a terrible conversationalist.

“…um, I haven’t actually. I was about to warm up some leftovers?”

Your eyes focus on the taxis driving by, picking up passengers as they get waved down. Maybe you should just find a cheap hotel nearby, continue this conversation tomorrow.

“Well…I’m in town, actually. I just landed about 30 minutes ago and realized I didn’t have anywhere to go and I don’t really want to call anyone else and I don’t exactly know who else to call so I just, um, thought about calling you and asking if you’ve had dinner? Which if you’re busy and stuff, that’s totally fine, I should’ve texted you beforehand instead of springing this on you and—”

“(Y/n), it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. I’m not busy, so you can stop by. Did my mom ever give you my address?”

Keiji’s brief attempt to calm you down works, surprisingly. You allow yourself to take a deep breath despite the stale airport air, but it was some much-needed oxygen. This is going to be okay, Keiji doesn’t hate you quite yet.

“N-no, she never did.”

“That’s fine, I’ll text it to you. My place is about 30 minutes from the airport, I’d recommend getting a taxi instead of an Uber. I’ll order some delivery—”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You still like the miso ramen from that shop not far from your house, right? They opened up a second store not far from where I live.”

How did he remember that? You’re pretty sure your own mother had forgotten that fact by now.

“Y-yeah, I do,” you smile to yourself. “I still think about it sometimes.”

“Sounds good then. Get here safely then.”

“Okay. Thank you loads again. I’m sorry for all this—”

“Don’t worry about it. Keep me updated, see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Not 30 seconds later, a text arrives to your phone with an address, a keycode for getting past the main door, and other relevant instructions.

-

Keiji’s apartment is exactly as you expect it to be – prim, proper, neat almost to a fault, with minimalist decorations. The apartment complex he lives in is rather high-end, if the security guards standing outside the main entrance indicated anything. You almost feel completely out of place or like a bug on the wall as you step in after him, a rather comfortable silence between the two of you. His kitchen is spotless and almost sparkles back at you, and the only thing that seems out of place are the containers of your ramen he so kindly ordered for you.

“Your place is really nice, it’s really…you,” you comment, setting your stuff down at the door. Keiji indulges you with a quiet laugh, making sure that there wasn’t anything that would be in your way. His glasses are perched on his head, an old monochrome t-shirt on his shoulders and sweatpants hung low on his hips, yet in this apartment that almost seems like it should be in an interior design magazine, he looks at home. His ethereal beauty, the softness in his eyes, the gentle up-turned strands of his hair – he belonged here.

“The ramen came not too long ago, so it’s still hot. I’ll go ahead and put it together, you can put your jacket on the couch.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Instead, you fold your jacket over your suitcase and quietly make your way into the apartment. Straight across from you are doors to a balcony – darkness had long taken over the city, so you see nothing but your reflection at first. But as you near the plexiglass, the reflection disappears into the view and you almost gasp from the beauty of it.

Blinking lights, flashing billboards, and the brightly lit Tokyo Skytree peer back at you. It only hits you now how much you’ve missed home, and that even though Sapporo was one of the largest cities in Japan, it still wasn’t Tokyo.

“I never get tired of it,” Keiji chimes in while carrying your bowl of ramen to the dining table.

“It’s an amazing view, I can see why you’d live here,” you reply while moving away from it. The table also has two empty wine glasses, and just as you’re about to ask him why they were there, he returns with a newly opened bottle of chardonnay.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to restock the wine fridge, but I knew I was going to kick myself for not having a bottle of that dessert wine we had before you went off to college,” he said with mirth and amusement. “You remember that one?”

“Yeah,” you nearly splutter, almost flushing that once again, Keiji was remembering details about you that you didn’t even know. “Your mom wanted to throw me a graduation dinner and you made it back in time after finals. And she had a bottle of it and between the two of us, we probably drank most of it. Our parents said it was too sweet.”

He nods and sits across from you, elbows on the table as you mutter, “Itadakimasu,” and start eating. You finish your meal silently for the most part, making small talk here and there. Keiji refills both of your glasses and the two of you sip the wine demurely, and while he seems okay with the lack of an explanation, you’re struggling to find the right words.

“So what’s with the impromptu trip to Tokyo? Are you going to see your parents?”

“Should I try to lie to you?”

“It’s up to you.”

Oh, okay then.

But he looks expectant, as if he knows you wouldn’t lie to him – in fact, you’ve never lied to him before. There was never any need to, but did that just mean neither of you ever cared enough?

“Something happened with me and Testuro. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but at the end of the day…I just needed to get away, as cliché as it sounds,” you laugh brokenly. Keiji continues to carefully observe you with a stare that you can’t escape. “I don’t want to tell my parents – you know them, they’ll ask a million questions. Without thinking, I booked a ticket to Tokyo and…now I’m here.”

That was a lie. How are you supposed to tell Keiji that he was the first person you thought of in an effort to run away? You and Keiji have never gotten personal before, he made sure of that. The last thing you want to do is weird him and scare him off.

“…did he cheat on you?” Keiji asked. His voice is darker in his inquiry, deeper than you’ve ever heard before. He has his hands folded in front of his lips and his eyes harden. Testuro may be an old friend to him, but you were in his life longer.

“Nonononono,” you quickly wave off. This isn’t the time to slander your…boyfriend? Could Tetsuro still even be your boyfriend if he no longer has any feelings for you? “Nothing like that.”

“That’s good to hear. If you want, you can tell me another time then. You’re welcome to stay here until you go back to Sapporo.”

You look up at him, eyes incredulous. Could Keiji really be this comfortable with you?

“I wouldn’t mind staying tonight, but I can stay in a hotel for the rest of the week that I’m here.”

“Nonsense,” Keiji refutes, standing from the table and taking your wine glasses to the sink. You follow with your bowl and he starts washing them before you can even offer. “Mom would kill me if she knew I let you pay for a hotel when I have a perfectly functioning bed you can stay in.”

“I mean, if it’s not a bother…”

“It’s not. The futon’s pretty comfortable, I’ve definitely fallen asleep on it plenty of times.”

“We can switch, I would never let you sleep on the futon for a whole week.”

“If you say so then. But for tonight, you can take my bed. Let me grab you an extra towel so you can shower. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” he says while drying everything off, folding the kitchen towel neatly before heading off to his room. He returns with a large, soft grey towel and you shyly take it from him with a word of thanks, but he stays there in front of you, waiting for something.

“I’m really glad you picked up the phone,” you whisper softly, feeling the effects of the alcohol. You’re entering uncharted territory for the two of you, and this could either kill or strengthen this odd distant friendship. “I meant it when I said I didn’t know who else to call. You were the first person that came to mind and just…I don’t want to make this weird, like you can kick me out,” you begin to ramble. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to take me in because your mom would be disappointed if you wouldn’t, you’ve already put up with me for over 15 years and it’s fine, I can be on my own and—”

Smooth, calloused hands delicately hold your face, large palms and nimble fingers cupping your cheeks. Your words die on your tongue as Keiji stares straight into your eyes, holding your gaze until your breathing calms down to a steady, languid pace. “You’re my friend, (y/n). So it’s good that you called me.”

“I’m your…friend?” You ask unsteadily, feeling a sense of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now go shower.”

“Okay.”

-

You’re fast asleep before Keiji finishes his own shower, his bedroom door left ajar as the hallway light beams through. He pauses in the midst of drying his hair with a towel, letting it bunch and hang off his neck as he cautiously pushes the door open. Keiji notices your even breathing and how much more relaxed you look in sleep. You’re curled up on your side with the blanket pulled up to your face and he can’t lie: it’s adorable and cute, and he shouldn’t really be thinking these things.

He sits on the edge of the bed in the little space that’s provided, lithe fingers reaching out to brush back a few stray wisps of your hair. Watching you sleep pulls him back into a fond memory he’s kept of the two of you, one that might’ve held very little significance to you but meant something so much more to him. He knows you know him well, he knows how much his mother babbles on about him, and adults were more prone to gossip than the rowdiest of teenagers – he’d be painfully oblivious if he didn’t think you knew that much about him, or more than the average friend.

But it’s comforting to him, sometimes. Knowing you, how kindly you think of others, he might not have to explain what he’s feeling in the moment. You would be able to know, and that soothes him to some degree.

Maybe he had a little bit too much wine as well, but ever so subtly, motions steady and unhurried, he deftly leans closer and closer until his lips brush the apple of your cheek. He lingers for no more than a few seconds and sits back up, gazing at you before standing. His hands adjust the blankets and make sure you’re properly tucked in. He pads away, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible as to not wake you.

And when he’s found a comfortable position on the futon with his most comfortable throw blanket, he realizes, begrudgingly, that this week will fly by too fast for his liking.  

[vincells]

I think the most frustrating part about being on the internet is attempting to be reasonable or even educational to those who swear they listen, only for them to be the biggest dick who just doesn't listen due to their own ass backwards logic.

I remember I spent the first night of my birthday trip arguing with my aunt on whether it was morally acceptable to support racist cc. I nearly started crying at the dinner table trying to just simply explain that actively giving money to racists who haven't learned from their actions is just insulting to the community you act like you respect.

yk what makes it worse? everyone at the table found it amusing. my black ass surrounded by my white family as they throw, "what if?" situations at me and acting like it was just funny. Keep in mind, I didn't even start this conversation. The only reason why it became directed at me was because I was the only black person there.

poc's nightmare of a reality is merely viewed as a "woke" conversation white people just use to jerk off their ego. it never dawned upon me until having to ACTUALLY sit there in person listening to my aunt explain how Jeffery fucking star was amazing! who cares about everything he did since he just happened to be funny. honestly, I think part of me was just hoping people were only this dense online.

The amount of conversations I've had as a black person trying to explain how to be the bare minimum makes me physically sick because I really have wasted my early teenage years on people who could care less about my well being. YEARS wasted on fucking literal snowflakes who expect ME to be the reasonable one. what the hell do you expect me to say? no, it's fine you made a joke saying my skin is the color of shit! it's fine you tried to say I was trying to ruin a friend group and was ableist by "talking shit" to my boyfriend because I was uncomfortable with certain things. it's fucking fine you constantly lie to my face and say you understand my struggle as an African American by comparing my blackness to a fucking gender.

supporting BLM doesn't exempt you from being a bigoted person. it's not my job to be your free entertainment trying to educate you. if you ACTUALLY gave a shit, you'd take the time out of YOUR day to google basic shit. don't fucking sit back and act like im supposed to be up your ass 24/7. I'm not your caretaker. to think you deserve that sort of treatment only proves white fragility and entitlement is STRONG.

[reki-of-the-valley]

Thinking of Renga angst. Like only angst. No happy ending. No redemption. Just hurt.

I'm gonna write down my ideas to get it out of my system but I want to preface this with I love Langa. I genuinely believe that he is a good kid with a kind heart and that he is not twisted or horrible or manipulative. My spiralling ideas for angst don't represent how I think of him so if someone dares come to me with some fucking Langa hate, I won't hesitate to snap.

TL;DR I don't believe in anything I'm going to write here, I will never elaborate on it, but I'm going through something rn and I have to let it out somehow

Now I'm putting this under a cut because it will hurt and I don't want to trigger anyone

(unintentionally) emotionally abusive Langa. Langa who takes out his emotions on those he cares about. Langa who goes distant as soon as something doesn't go his way. Langa who snaps easily

But Langa who won't hesitate to say he's in love. Langa who does genuinely love Reki. Langa who, despite all his problems, wants to be the best he can for Reki. Langa who is trying but also causing so much harm

Emotionally dependant Reki. Reki who just wants someone to love him. Reki who just wants someone to be interested in him, in what he does. Reki who just wants someone who will listen to him

Reki who will jump head first into any relationship because "someone actually loves me"

Reki with self esteem issues. Reki with his inferiority complex. Reki who knows that he isn't all that strong, that he clings onto what he can, onto people who show the minimum amount of interest. Reki who thinks he's the problem.

So when Langa tells him that he loves him, Reki jumps on the opportunity. Because Langa is his best friend. Because he loves Langa. And Langa loves him. Someone finally loves him.

But it doesn't get better. They don't argue any less than before. Langa doesn't stop breaking his promises. Langa still isn't careful. If anything, he's even more reckless. Langa is always more reckless. He promises to be careful, but he isn't. Reki worries, terrified for Langa. Langa who loves him. Langa who says "I love you" every day to him before pressing kisses to his face

And every time Reki says something, Langa is snapping. He's not being reckless, Reki is just overreacting. Reki with his paranoia of everyone getting hurt when he's the only one ever getting hurt. Reki who is the one who's always wrapped up in bandages

Someone tries telling Reki that it isn't right, that Langa shouldn't be snapping like that at him, that Langa shouldn't be shaking him off as soon as Reki tries to make things better, but Reki doesn't listen. Because Langa loves him. And people in love don't hurt each other. Because Langa always comes back, saying sorry, pressing kisses to his face, saying "I love you"

Reki can deal with Langa's moods. "Langa's just going through stuff, y'know? Don't worry about me." Reki forcing a smile whenever someone asks what's wrong. Reki forcing himself to be happy around others when all he wants to do is cry. But he can't be sad. He can't be hurt. Langa loves him. Isn't that what he wanted all along? Someone who would love him, love him despite his problems? Love him wholly, fully, truly? Langa loves him. Langa loves all of him.

And it gets out of hand. Langa is more distant, more snappy. All those little things, every time Reki makes a mistake, Langa is looking down on him. But he isn't, is he? It's all in Reki's head. It has to be. Because Langa loves him. Langa loves him. Langa, who is amazing at everything he does, he can't be putting Reki down. It's all in Reki's head. And if Langa does say something, if he does tell him to quit trying, that he won't achieve anything, that he won't ever get it, if Langa pushes Reki to tears, then he's always there, he's there saying sorry, pressing kisses all over Reki's face, "I love you." It's always I love you.

It takes awhile for Reki to truly see how bad things have gotten. It takes tears almost daily, hidden in his bedroom, refusing to talk to his mother, refusing to look at his sisters, unable to look at anyone who cares about him without having this wave of tears threaten to pour out

He can deal with Langa's moods, except he can't. People in love don't hurt each other, except they do. Love doesn't magically make things better. Love doesn't make the pain go away

Reki almost doesn't do it. Reki almost can't do it. He can't leave Langa, but he knows he has to. He loves Langa, he really does, and he wants to believe that Langa loves him. Because despite it all, Langa is nice to him. He just... Has his moments. He has these moments where he isn't nice. Moments where he is so mean, so hurtful, so terribly awful that Reki just wants to cry. But he can't cry because then he'd be showing Langa that he is weak

It's messy, the breakup. It's a horrible mess. Langa is pleading, promising to be good, to be better, that he loves Reki. He always loves Reki. And Reki almost gives in. He almost gives in to the kisses pressed to his face. He almost gives in to another promise he knows will be broken. But he doesn't. He doesn't give in. If he can be strong just once in his life, it has to be now. It has to be saying goodbye.

And he manages it. He manages to leave. Not without an overflow of tears, but he manages to leave. To leave his only chance at love. Because no one but Langa has ever loved him.

Reki moves. With university, he manages to get out, far from every street corner that hurts so bad. He manages to get out of his hometown so filled with pain

But the hurt is still there. He can't commit to any kind of relationship anymore. That pretty girl that's clearly flirting with him, a pretty girl he would have loved to meet a year ago, a pretty girl that was showing interest in him, a pretty girl he could have shared everything with, he brushes her off. That boy who's slinging his arm around his shoulder, talking to him about their common interests, Reki walks away from him. He walks away from everyone. He doesn't talk to him mom much anymore. He barely texts Koyomi. His other friends from high school or from S are basically strangers to him now. There's still Langa, Langa with a little snowflake and a heart next to his name, but Reki knows he isn't supposed to talk to him. He knows that he'll only spiral and break down if he does. He wants, because the last thing Langa sent him was an I love you, but he doesn't do anything. He just stares at the message as he cries

Little by little, Reki isolates himself from everyone. He sees pieces of Langa in everyone he meets, painful shards of how their friendship first started with each greeting. He can't do it. He can't get attached anymore. He can't love anyone else. He can't hurt anymore.

Langa, Langa who loved him, genuinely loved him, he fucked Reki up so bad that he's just the shell of who he used to be. Reki knows that Langa did love him, but both their problems got in the way of what could have been happiness. Langa with his isolation out of fear of being left by someone he loves, Langa with his need to always go faster, father, bigger, Langa with his broken promises. And Reki with his paranoia of people getting hurt, Reki with his inferiority complex borderline martyr complex, Reki who never felt good enough to be loved but felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. In different circumstances, maybe they could have been happy. But they couldn't because neither one was ready to address their problems.

And that haunting knowledge that maybe they could have been happy, it keeps Reki up. Because that's all he wants: happiness.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Plot Twist” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Embroiled in the aftermath of two very messy break-ups, Crowley and Aziraphale are preparing to film their first love scene together. But how do you pretend to be in love when your love life is falling apart?

It probably doesn't hurt to be in love with your co-star. (2318 words)

Notes: So I made the chauffeur young Shadwell, but patterned after young Michael McKean, who I was desperately in love with back in the day XD Human au, ineffable wives, mention of past Aziraphale/Gabriel, mostly just fluff

Read on AO3.

“Ooo, I get a limo this time. Fancy, fancy,” Crowley mumbles, not nearly as impressed as she’s pretending to be. She’d much rather drive herself in her own Bentley and in her own sweet arse time. But she needs to keep up appearances. 

There are always two eyes and a camera lens on her at any given moment.

Even though it’s the literal buttcrack of dawn, she’s not alone. There are about thirty asshats, armed with cameras, camped out on her doorstep, climbing over each other to snap a candid of her for the gossip sites. A photo of her emerging from her rented townhouse fresh-faced and ready for another day on set will fetch an easy hundred pounds.

But if she looks like she rolled out of bed, drank a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, then fell down a flight of stairs, landing face-first onto a mountain of cocaine? Those pictures would fetch considerably more.

That’s what she gets for going through a horrendous break-up while having the nerve to be rich and famous.

She thought that when the production moved filming away from London and out to California, the buzz surrounding her personal affairs would die down. On the contrary. It seemed to get worse, in part because the states don’t have the same paparazzi laws the UK does.

She can’t sit down to take a proper shit without seeing a flash pop off.

Despite how she feels about her life at the moment, she went for class over crass. She shies away from hard drugs, and she can't justify looking less than her best, especially in public. 

She refuses to let anyone see her sweat.

“Antonia! Antonia! Over here!” the pariahs beckon, some of them whistling for her attention like she’s a dog. “Antonia! Hey, Crowley!”

Crowley.

That’s the one that gets to her - burrows into the roots of her teeth and makes her head pulsate with rage. It keeps her feet moving when she might have stopped to exchange a polite hello, given out an autograph. And the sick thing is these vultures probably realize that. 

That’s why they keep doing it. 

Who talks to people like that? When did it become acceptable to bellow out someone’s last name as a means of getting their attention? Is it too much to ask for them to shove a ‘Mrs.’ in front of it? Have these glorified stalkers forgotten that, if it weren’t for her and stars like her, the only jobs they could get would be snapping photos of families at Legoland for minimum wage?

Ugh. 

Too much thinking too early in the morning.

She could write an entire essay on how much she loathes pap culture, but today, she can’t be bothered caring.

She’s filming one of the most anticipated scenes of her whole career on one of the worst days of her life. 

That’s the hurdle she needs to focus on.

She slaps on a smile and waves, sliding her glasses down her nose only far enough so they can’t see how red her eyes have gotten from crying.

“Oh, ‘ello, loves! I didn’t see you all here! So nice of you to greet me at 5:30 on this fine winter morning! Oh, careful there. You spilled your coffee. And I think you just kicked that poor lad in the face. You wanna give him a hand up there? He’s bleedin’ all over the pavement.”

Crowley greets her guests this way every morning, killing them with kindness, as subtle an eff you as she can come up with when her brain cells have yet to kick in for the day.

Coffee. She needs coffee. About a gallon-and-a-half of it.

And a shot of bourbon might be nice.

Crowley glides through the crowd, an angelfish among sharks, and comes out unscathed.

A man with brown hair, pale skin, and striking blue eyes, wearing a fitted, black uniform tailored to within an inch of its life, opens the car door for her as she approaches.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crowley."

“Good morning, Mr. Shadwell. It's nice to see you.” Crowley slides into the car, thankful when the chauffeur shuts the door. She sinks into the leather seat and tosses her sunglasses aside. “God!" she moans, burying her face in her hands. "I don't want to do this! I want to stay home, eat ice cream, and drink tremendous amounts of alcohol! I definitely don’t want to be snogging anyone today!”

Aziraphale, who had been waiting patiently with a small box of assorted cookies and wearing a sympathetic smile, frowns. “Wow. Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley's head snaps up, her face splotchy, and red enough to rival her hair in seconds. “Aziraphale! I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were …! That’s not what I meant!" She takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. "It's not you, angel. I swear it isn’t. I just don’t feel particularly romantic today.”

“It’s all right. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

Crowley squares Aziraphale with a stern look. “Wow. Thank you.”

Aziraphale ducks her eyes, her cheeks turning pink as she offers Crowley a cookie from the box. She wonders if Aziraphale made them herself. She often does bake to pass the time. So much so that she's become quite good at it.

Life hasn’t been treating her too kindly, either.

The cookies are delicate little things, intricately frosted in red, green, and white, decorated as bells and angels and snowflakes in honor of Christmas. 

Because it’s Christmas. 

Crowley is having the worst day of her life a week before Christmas.

Sigh.

There is usually champagne, no matter what vehicle the studio sends to pick them up. She wonders where it’s gone, searching about for it. Crowley and Aziraphale rarely avail themselves to it, preferring to wait till after the shooting day is done to have a nightcap.

But today, it feels like a necessity.

Leave it to the studio to not provide them a bottle of bubbly on the one day Crowley longs to drown in it.

“I didn’t know Shadwell was picking you up first,” Crowley says, starting small talk to ease the tension. Crowley and Aziraphale don’t usually have trouble making small talk.

Today is an exception.

“Well ...” Aziraphale clears embarrassment from her throat “... I was just … you know … a few blocks down the way.”

Crowley sits up further, leans forward with interest. “So you did it. You left him. You left Gabriel.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies quietly. “I couldn’t stay. Not after …” She stops and sniffles, turning her head to hide eyes that must be as red as Crowley’s. Crowley doesn’t know.

She only ever notices how incredible they are.

Crowley rests a comforting hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “I know.” 

“Yeah,” Aziraphale says with a slightly bitter laugh. “So does the whole world. In fact, the photogs knew I was leaving before I knew. You should have seen it. I could barely get past them.”

Crowley pulls a box of tissues out of the side panel and offers her co-star one. “They’re bottom feeders. The lot of them. Try to ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Crowley repeats, feeling exceptionally useless. She’s in the exact same boat, but her heart hurts more for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale doesn’t deserve what she's going through. She doesn’t deserve such a public break-up.

She doesn’t deserve having her name drug all over social media by an emotionally manipulative bastard who thinks he's God's gift.

Crowley gazes out the window at the sky above. The forecast said it would be clear and sunny today, but it’s cloudy and grey. It matches Crowley's mood. Everything is cloudy and grey.

Well, maybe not everything.

The cookie she's eating isn’t. It’s sweet and crisp and melts in her mouth. It puts a smile on her face.

That helps.

Aziraphale helps, too.

Even gloomy, melancholy Aziraphale helps.

Just being in Aziraphale's presence helps.

“Living in the public eye isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, though it sounds as much like a statement to herself as a question for Crowley.

“Not on days like today. But that’s the trade-off for being a star, I suppose.” 

“Would you ever give it up?” Aziraphale asks, taking a nibble of her Madeleine.

“I can’t say I would. You?”

“Nnnn ... no."

"There isn't anything else you wanted to do?" Crowley asks, latching on to her hesitation. "Not even when you were younger?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale bobs her head back and forth. "To be honest, I have always wanted to own my own bookshop. Or perhaps work in a library. But that's only if acting didn't work out. Acting has given me so many opportunities I could never have dreamed of. And all the great people I've met? I mean, this is what? The fifth film we’ve starred in together?”

“It is." 

Aziraphale chuckles. "Some of them have been real winners."

"I know! The roles you get offered when you're just starting out are criminal! Let’s see, we’ve been rogue enemy agents from different factions …”

“High school frenemies …”

“Alien co-conspirators …”

“Jealous rivals …”

“And now … lovers.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says bashfully. “And today …”

Crowley smiles. “We get together for the first time.”

Hearing Crowley say it makes Aziraphale’s heart race, her pulse thrumming so fast it disappears.

The day Aziraphale found out she’d gotten the role of Crowley’s love interest and not the ‘jealous ex’ (the role her agent originally pitched for her since they play adversaries so well) was a dream come true. The studio felt the two of them could take their insane sexual tension (the studio's words, not Aziraphale's, although she doesn't disagree) and use it to fuel the plot of their latest 'friends-to-lovers' rom-com.

Aziraphale has always wanted to be a leading lady. Deep down, she prayed that her first time, she'd play opposite Crowley. Now that it has finally happened, the role of her dreams comes with the greatest perk in the universe - an intimate moment with Antonia.

In front of about three dozen crew members, but still. 

It's Aziraphale's chance to indulge her crush, which she plans to savor since it may not come around again. 

Not in the way Aziraphale wants.

As friendly as Crowley is to her, as flirty as she can be, Aziraphale doesn't know for sure whether Crowley shares her feelings.

“If you don't mind my asking, when did she tell you?” Aziraphale asks.

“She didn’t." Crowley snorts humorlessly. "I woke up, and she was gone. I thought she had left for work. She had a table reading at six that morning, so I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Not until I started noticing important things were missing - clothes, toiletries, her contact lenses, her laptop …” 

"Did she tell you why she was leaving?"

Crowley chews her lower lip at the question she'd known was coming ... the answer she's debating whether or not to give. "Eventually." She glances up at Aziraphale, flashes a sly grin, and decides to go for broke. “She left because she thought I was falling in love with my co-star.”

"Really?" And just like that, Aziraphale dies, her heart shrinking into nothing and blowing away on the wind. "W-which one?" she asks, solely for conversation's sake.

This time, when Crowley snorts, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying crumbs all over the interior of the limo, it's genuine. "You, you gumball!"

"Oh. Oh!" Aziraphale’s expression of shock is so endearing, Crowley can’t look at it too long. There's a glow about her. It's like staring into the sun. “That's ... that’s funny. Gabriel broke up with me for the same reason. Because of ... you. At least, that's the excuse he gave on Twitter ... and Instagram ... and Facebook.” Aziraphale's glow dims as she talks about her ex. Their relationship, and separation, weren’t as civil as Crowley’s. In reality, trouble had been brewing behind the scenes for a while. 

She’s glad they finally went their separate ways, but it stings just the same, finding out that someone you once loved, who you thought loved you back, just wanted someone to push around. To control.

"That is funny. Not funny ha-ha. Just ... funny. Who would have thunk?" Crowley goes back to her cookie, taking small bites while keeping an eye on Aziraphale.

Aziraphale glances out the window as the limo slows, approaching the gates to the studio lot. Crowley doesn't follow Aziraphale's gaze.

She doesn't need to. 

She knows what Aziraphale sees by the way her face falls.

Aziraphale had hoped they could slip in quietly, but there's already a mob three feet deep waiting for them. The photographers and fans won't be able to see a thing through the car's windows. The tint on them is darker than dark. Still, the whole lot will be on high alert with them here. 

Inevitably, a handful will slip in. 

They may even find their way on set.

Aziraphale doesn't have the energy to deal with that.

Not today.

“How are we going to get through it?" Aziraphale asks. "Filming this scene? The timing is ... uncanny, to say the least.”

“Think of it this way …” Crowley slides across to Aziraphale’s side, sits as close as they're both comfortable with. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, Crowley draws Aziraphale's attention away from the gathering crowd and over to her eyes instead “… we get to spend the entire afternoon making each other feel better. That's how we're going to get through this. Agreed?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lower, flicker to Crowley's lips unintentionally. When they travel back up, she notices Crowley's eyes do the same. She swallows hard. At this distance from Crowley, from her mouth, Aziraphale only has the wherewithal to say one word. She makes it count. "Agreed."

[ethereousdelirious]

Happy early birthday @febrileminded​!!!!!!!! I wrote 4k words of CV sickfic and I would have kept going except I literally ran out of time (hashtag adulting sucks). I’m hoping to write a part 2 in the future, but I hope you like this!! <3 <3 I hope your birthday is awesome and everyone is nice to you and you get awesome presents

The icy mountain wind caught Trevor dead-on and made his cloak flutter and snap violently, made his nose and cheeks sting.

"Fuck," he muttered, trying ignore the way breathing made his throat itch. He had thought it was just the cold air and the elevation making him woozy, but after two days of grueling travel through the mountains, he couldn't help but wonder if there was something more at play.

Sypha and Alucard walked a bit ahead of him, Sypha leading the one horse they had managed to acquire before leaving the previous town.

Standing against the purple sky, the fresh evergreens made a perfect frame around Sypha, Alucard, and the horse. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't so damn uncomfortable.

Trevor coughed lightly into his palm and hastened his step so he wouldn't lose distance. Neither Syph nor Alucard seemed to be having as much trouble as he was, and the thought of being the weakest made him edgy.

"I can't believe people live up here," he forced himself to say, mostly to provide an excuse for his ragged breathing.

"What?" Sypha half-turned to look at him. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes watered from the cold. "What do you mean?"

Trevor took a breath to tell her about the paths he had seen, the not-so-distant chimney smoke farther up the side of the mountain, but Alucard spoke first.

"A small group of people from the neighboring towns made their homes up here in the process of mapping out this pass." He gestured broadly. The wind made his hair flutter and he continued sourly, "I can't imagine why they stayed."

Trevor chuckled for the sake of disguising a few coughs underneath and pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders. He had already tried offering it to Sypha once and she had declined in a tone that brooked no argument.

"And this is when the sun is out," Sypha said, glancing upward.

Though she couldn't see it, Trevor nodded. They had had remarkably good luck with the weather. Today marked the third morning that a nearly cloudless sky had greeted them, although today it was purple and tiny, glittering ice crystals danced on the breeze.

Trevor sniffled, then wiped his nose on the hem of his cloak when it continued to run. "I don't suppose there's a tavern up here," he half-joked, knowing that Alucard would have something snide to say.

It was half irritation and half self-preservation that made Trevor set himself up like this. He knew when he was getting sick and if they kept walking in silence like they had been, with no other sound that Trevor's sniveling and coughing, the others would know, too and he simply couldn't allow that.

Sure enough, Alucard scoffed and did not deign to turn around when he said, "So three days without some imbibing some piss-water calling itself 'ale,' that's your limit?"

Trevor was saved by having to respond by the interference of Sypha, who evidently felt this comment was mean-spirited enough to warrant a hard look. "Don't pick fights."

"My hero," Trevor said drily.

Despite his best efforts, the conversation died out. Trevor tried to keep his throat-clearing to a minimum and wiped his nose on his cloak so often that the skin began to feel raw. The breeze picked up, cooling the sweat that formed on his neck and brow. This created an uncomfortable discrepancy. He was undeniably hot from all the physical activity, almost uncomfortably so, but the cold air kept his face and hands icy and pale. (His hands, at least, were almost greenish-blue from the lack of blood flow).

They had just stopped for a break when the first real snowflake drifted by. Trevor looked up. How had he not noticed the purple-gray clouds closing in overhead?

"I was afraid this might happen," Alucard sighed. Fucking prick. Like he knew what the weather was going to do.

Trevor wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He could feel where it had beaded up on his neck and under his arms, but he wasn't about to start undressing just for the sake of airing out.

Besides, Sypha and Alucard seemed fine. And if they were fine, then Trevor was fine because he wasn't about to hold everyone up so he could nurse a little head cold.

His chest and throat burned as if to remind him of symptoms he had forgotten. Chest cold, then. Regardless. He was fine.

Annoyed, he adjusted his cloak over his shoulders and glowered off into middle distance.

"We should move quickly," Sypha said. Though Trevor didn't move his head, more and more snowflakes spun into his field of vision. The whirling sensation made his temples throb.

"I'm good to go," he said. "I was just worried about Alucard."

"Me?" Alucard sneered. "I'm not the one panting like an overworked mare."

And, like clockwork, they all turned their heads to the horse, who was happily nosing at a patch of grass.

Trevor barked out an abortive laugh that threatened to snowball into an avalanche of coughs. Sypha giggled and even Alucard looked like he was working hard to suppress a smile.

The mood quickly dimmed when the wind whipped up a thick flurry of snowflakes.

Trevor stood up slowly, his body aching to an almost insulting degree. Under his clothing, his body burned hot while the rest of his exposed skin was already numb with cold. "Let's go," he said, grabbing the horse by the reins and leading her back to the path. Sypha and Alucard followed.

"We should only have one more day of travel," Alucard said, and Trevor could hear in his voice how hard he was working not to stutter from the cold.

"If we don't get trapped by the snowstorm," Sypha added, a dark note of worry staining her voice.

Trevor put his head down and urged the mare to move faster.

Something was off about Belmont. He'd been moving much too slowly since the journey started. Alucard had chalked it up to some miscellaneous defect in the human form at first, but then he realized that Sypha was doing fine while Trevor was starting to lag behind.

He was keeping up and he wasn't complaining, so Alucard hadn't minded so much at first, but now… Now they were in the middle of a snowstorm that was rapidly becoming a blizzard with no hope of shelter in sight and Belmont. wasn't. keeping. up. Even over the howling wind, Alucard could hear Trevor's heavy, ragged breathing punctuated by the occasional strangled cough.

Alucard rolled his eyes and turned around.. Whatever the deal was, they didn't have time for it.

"Pick it up, Belmont. We need to move quickly."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Trevor spat, glaring at Alucard with red-rimmed eyes. "And here I thought we were just out for a leisurely stroll." He wiped his face with his hand and Alucard frowned. It was near-impossible to tell, since they were all damp from head to toe, but Trevor might have been sweating. His cloak had no hood, but he'd pulled it up over his head to stave off the snow. Still, the back of his neck glistened with sweat or melted snow.

Alucard narrowed his eyes and Trevor glared back, still panting.

"Didn't you just say we needed to hurry?" Sypha prompted.

"Something's wrong," Alucard said, still staring at Trevor. They were all pink-cheeked from the cold, but Trevor's cheeks had taken on a stronger reddish tone than the delicate pink dusting Sypha's cheekbones and nose. He couldn't seem to stand up straight and his breaths sounded wheezy and painful.

"Looking is free," Trevor said "but touching will cost you."

"You're slowing us down," Alucard said. "I'd like to know why."

"This is slowing us down," Trevor said, with a pointed look at Sypha, who was shivering. "Let's go already."

Alucard kept his steely gaze locked on Trevor. "Fine. But you'd better keep up."

They trudged onward. It was impossible to tell from the clouded-over sky, but Alucard estimated that barely an hour had passed since the storm had started. The sun shone watery rays where it could through the thick gray cloud cover.

"Do you really think we can make it to the next town?" Sypha yelled over the wind 

"We don't have a choice," Alucard answered. "We can’t stop, not in this weather." He paused in case Trevor had a smart-ass remark he wanted to make, but Trevor was silent.

Well.

Not silent. Just as Alucard was ordered, he was keeping up, but the grueling pace was costing him dearly. He was panting so hard he could barely speak and still stupidly trying to muffle coughs in the soaking-wet cloak draped over his shoulders.

He looked for all the world like a drowned rat. Were the circumstances less dire, Alucard would have told him so. As such, he kept his mouth shut. Trevor didn't look like he had the energy to argue.

Something was obviously wrong with him. Alucard wasn't sure if Sypha had noticed, not that that meant anything. There was no time for side conversations, no space in their current predicament for fussing and arguing. Trevor could deal with his little chest cold on his own until they got someplace safe.

Of course, things never could go as planned. The storm raged on and Trevor's coughing only got less subtle as they shuffled through the growing snowdrifts.

After one particularly loud bout, Sypha looked sideways at Alucard. He shook his head.

Then he thought for a moment, and amended himself. "We can stop if we see shelter," he shouted over the wind.

Sypha nodded.

Then came the gentle sound of a body hitting the snow.

"Shit." Alucard spun around and was unsurprised to find Trevor facedown in the snow. It had piled up about shin-high by now, so at least he hadn't hurt himself in the fall.

Sypha, less pragmatic and a touch more tender-hearted, cried out and rushed over to kneel in the snow by Trevor's side. "He's burning up."

"We need to get him up."

"On the horse?" Sypha asked. It was her turn on the reins, but she had let go when she had gone back to Trevor. Alucard took the lead before the shivering mare could get any ideas.

Trevor sat up suddenly and threw himself drunkenly to his feet, swaying and looking around with suspicious, fever-bright eyes. Water dripped from his face and the hem of his shirt. "I'm fine." Vapor rose from his mouth and body.

"You're steaming," Alucard pointed out. "Get on the horse."

"I can walk."

"Get on the fucking horse!" Alucard snapped. He told himself it wasn't worry that made him so edgy, that he was just angry at Belmont for slowing them down, but deep down he knew better.

"I can walk."

Alucard ground his teeth and looked at the horse, who was obviously suffering. "Fine. Sypha, take her. Belmont, come here."

Trevor glared and for a moment, Alucard thought he wouldn't move. But he did, staggering through the snow. Stiffly, Alucard grabbed Trevor's arm and ducked under his shoulder.

No one said anything. They started to walk again.

It was slower going now, and the tension grated. Trevor was blazing hot, but cooling down quickly. Even with a fever, hypothermia would set in faster now that his clothing was wet.

Through the grace of… something-- Luck, God, fate, Alucard did not know-- they rounded a bend and found the looming shadow of a barn. Nobody spoke, but they moved ahead with renewed speed, as much as they could manage given the circumstances.

Alucard deposited Trevor against the barn wall and kicked the door in without a second thought.

The barn wasn't warm but it was shelter from the wind and might as well have been paradise for all Alucard cared. Sypha led the mare in and Alucard dragged Trevor from the wall to an old hay bale that was beginning to sprout grass.

The doors flapped in the breeze. Alucard bolstered them as well as he could with further hay bales, then turned his attention back to Trevor, who was shivering and dangerously pale.

He gave Sypha a quick scan-- She was also pale and shivering and her lips were nearly blue, but her eyes were clear and focused.

"Are the supplies dry?" Alucard asked. "Any of them?"

Sypha began to dig through the mare's saddlebags while Alucard took the decidedly harder task of taking care of Trevor. Perhaps he should have switched with Sypha, but it was far too late now.

"You need to get out of those wet clothes."

Trevor managed to wheeze out something that sounded like a scoff. "I'll do it myself."

"Your hands are shaking."

"So are yours."

"Fine." Alucard backed up a half-step.

"You don't have to watch." Trevor glared at him. To his credit, he did seem surprisingly with it for a man who had just collapsed, but he was still far from okay. "Belmont," Alucard sighed. "Do you not understand just how sick you are? You have a fever and we're still a good day of travel from the next town, given the weather conditions."

Trevor coughed pointedly into his sleeve until Alucard turned back to Sypha.

"Anything?"

She nodded. "Pretty much everything is still dry."

"Good. You should get changed too."

Sypha nodded and ducked into a corner.

"Aren't you going to change?" Trevor asked, slightly out of breath. "Or are you just going to order everyone else around?"

Alucard drew in a very deliberate breath, held it, and let it out. He wasn't going to rise to Trevor's bait. "I'll get changed as soon as Sypha is done, so she can keep an eye on you."

"I don't need a fucking babysitter."

Alucard wished he had a mirror so he could show Trevor exactly how bad he looked. His cheeks were flame-red while the rest of his face, particularly around his mouth and eyes, were deadly pale. He was shaking and Alucard had no doubt that he couldn’t stand on his own. "You look like a corpse."

"That's rich coming from you."

"Should I make a fire?" Sypha interrupted. She looked around at the structure of the barn and frowned. "I don't know if it would be safe."

"There's not much we can burn either," Alucard said, forgetting Trevor for the moment.

"Better not, then." Sypha came closer and rested her hand on Trevor's back. "You'd better go and get changed.

Alucard nodded.

By some miracle, Sypha managed to get Alucard and Trevor to agree to sleep together in the hay loft. Even with the shelter from the wind, it was too cold to sleep alone. So, after making sure the mare had water, they all climbed up the ladder and settled down.

Trevor was obviously fighting very hard to seem fine even though he could scarcely go a minute without coughing.

He wouldn't sleep next to Alucard, so Sypha found herself wedged between Trevor's fever heat and Alucard's gentle coolness.

She waited until Trevor's coughing died down and his ragged breathing evened out, whispered his name a few times to make sure he was asleep, then nuzzled Alucard's back to get his attention. It was a little more intimate a gesture than she was used to with him, but Trevor had his arms wrapped around her and she couldn't move for fear of waking him.

"Yes?" Alucard whispered.

"Do you think Trevor is going to be okay? I'm worried about him." Even now, he radiated heat against her back like a campfire and his breaths wheezed. "I can tell he isn't feeling well; I don't know why he's trying so hard to hide it."

Alucard sighed, and for a moment, his shoulders pressed harder into Sypha's chest. "Belm-- Trevor is stubborn. I'm sure he has his reasons, but--" He paused. "To answer your question, yes. I do think he'll be okay as long as he doesn't do anything stupid." Another pause. "Oh, no. He won't be okay."

Sypha nudged Alucard's back with her forehead. "Don't make jokes."

"Never."

Sypha was sure she wouldn't sleep at all. Hay poked through the blanket they'd laid down and she was too hot with Trevor pressed up against her back. He obviously wasn't sleeping well; his breathing came in erratic bursts and he made small noises of discomfort intermittently.

Yet somehow, Sypha fell asleep. She was only aware of this when she woke up to the sound of deep, grating coughs and a rush of cold air on her back. She shivered and rose on one arm, squinting in the dim light.

Alucard reacted faster. He hopped over Sypha in the blink of an eye and leaned against Trevor, holding his head steady with one hand and supporting his weight.

"Oh, shit."

Sypha blinked hard. She could just make out the silhouettes of Alucard and Trevor. He was nearly limp, and she got the distinct impression that Alucard's hand was the only thing keeping his head steady. "Trevor?" she whispered.

"Sypha, he's on fire. Bring the blanket over here."

"I c'n make my own way home," Trevor mumbled.

"Hush," Alucard said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Before you embarrass yourself." Sypha dragged the blanket over and watched as Alucard carefully arranged Trevor on top of it.

Trevor tried to speak again and coughed so brutally that Sypha was afraid he might hurt himself. "Actually," he slurred in a ragged voice, "I don't feel s'good."

"We know." Sypha knelt beside him and smoothed his hair out of his face. Now that she was closer, she could smell the tang of fever sweat and make out his pained expression.

"Sypha."

"What is it?"

"M'tired."

"Rest, then."

Trevor hummed an agreement and closed his eyes. Sypha stroked his hair.

"I'll be right back," Alucard said. He had evidently been looking through their bags, because he was holding one of Trevor's spare shirts. Before Sypha could ask for an explanation, he leapt off the side of the hay loft.

With nothing else to do, Sypha sat down properly and continued to stroke Trevor's hair.

Alucard touched down beside her almost silently. He nudged her out of the way and placed the spare shirt, now folded, over Trevor's brow.

Trevor winced but did not open his eyes.

"What's that?" Sypha asked.

"I got it wet in the snow." Alucard ran a hand through his windswept hair. "To cool him down. We don't want that fever getting out of control."

"Good thinking," Sypha said. Despite herself, she yawned.

"You should get some rest," Alucard said immediately. "The saddle blanket might be dry by now; I can go and--"

"It's fine," Sypha said, touching his hand. "Wake me after a few hours, okay?"

Alucard nodded, and she settled down in the hay to sleep.

As he sat and watched Trevor sleep, Alucard went through the events of the day and tried to think of something, anything, he could have done to prevent this from happening. He couldn't have known that Trevor was going to get so sick or that a storm was going to blow in, but… Maybe there was some detail he missed, something he passed over--

Trevor whimpered and interrupted Alucard's train of thought. "Belmont?" Alucard whispered. "Trevor?"

Trevor sat up so fast he would have smacked his forehead against Alucard's if Alucard hadn't caught him. "Let me go!" Trevor's hoarse cry shattered the silence and he thrashed so severely in Alucard's arms that Alucard's nearly let go of him out of sheer surprise.

"Trevor, calm down, it's me." Alucard let go and allowed Trevor to scoot back, away from him. "You're safe with Sypha and me."

"I don't believe you." Trevor was breathing so hard Alucard wasn't sure how he was still conscious. 

"I'm right here," Sypha said from where she'd been asleep.

"We won't hurt you," Alucard promised.

Trevor coughed shortly and seemed to come back to himself a degree or two. "It's cold," he said plaintively, sounding so unlike the Trevor Belmont that Alucard knew. He sounded meek. He sounded scared.

"Come back over to the blanket," Syoha said.

Trevor nodded and crawled back over to Alucard, who promptly wrapped him up in the blanket. Seeing Trevor pliant, so obedient, made Alucard's skin crawl. Still, he wrapped his arms around Trevor. "It's okay," he said gently. "You're safe here."

A moment later, Sypha joined them. Gradually, Trevor stopped shivering and went still between them save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Trevor felt like he'd been run over by a horse. No. He felt like he'd been shot off his horse, which had subsequently run over him. And all this had happened while he had a hangover. That was how Trevor felt.

It took him a long while to piece this comparison together, as thoughts swam lazily in his brain like fish in a pond and knitting them together into something coherent was painful.

Plus, he kept coughing and losing track of everything. The coughing was bad. It made his ribs ache and his head pound and his throat burn, and if it went on for too long, it made him dizzy.

Despite all this, he kept his eyes firmly shut in the hopes that he could fall back asleep. He was more than exhausted, so tired it made his bones ache, but he was also cold and getting colder and the rampant shivers wracking his frame were nearly impossible to ignore.

"I feel like shit," he announced in a hoarse, croaking voice, in case someone helpful was nearby and felt like bringing him a glass of water. Or putting him out of his misery. "Am I dying?"

"His fever must be down," Sypha whispered.

"Sypha?" Trevor opened his eyes and immediately closed then again. The room, wherever he was, was fairly dim, but even the gentle light sent an explosion of pain through his skull so strong it made his stomach turn. He coughed into his arm and groaned when he resurfaced, opening his eyes slower this time. The cold disappeared in a flash and he started to reach to take off his cloak and shirt before he realized his hands were shaking.

"Have some water," Sypha said. She came over and went to lift his head, but Trevor shied away and gave her a hard look.

"I can sit up," he said, a little offended that she thought he couldn't.

He couldn't.

He tried, but dizziness immediately overtook him and black spots clouded his vision. Sypha, bless her, caught him without saying anything and lifted a water skin to his lips 

Swallowing sent stabs of pain down Trevor's throat, so he only had a few sips before pulling away. "Why'm I so tired?" he asked, sliding down so his head rested in Sypha's lap. Not waiting for answer, he added, "M'so hot." A gentle breeze rustled his hair and then Alucard appeared in his field of vision holding-- "S'that my shirt?"

"Relax."

As tired as Trevor was, it was hard not to relax. He turned his head and nuzzled Sypha's belly to make her laugh, which she did. Alucard draped the folded-shirt over Trevor's eyes, and it felt like Heaven on his overheated skin. Every instinct in him told Trevor to push back, to not let them see him so weak, but he was so tired. 

It occurred to him to say so and find some corner to curl up in, but the thought dissipated into smoke almost as soon as it came and someone was stroking his hair and he was so comfortable…

Sypha's feet were starting to go numb, but she didn't adjust her position, not wanting to disturb Trevor. Instead she took Alucard's hand and guided it to Trevor's forehead.

For a moment, she thought Alucard might protest, but then he softened and began to stroke Trevor's hair.

"Your hands are cooler than mine," Sypha whispered.

Alucard raised an eyebrow before conceding defeat with a nod. "Do you want to move? I can hold his head."

"Thanks." Sypha waited for Alucard to slide his hand under the back of Trevor's head. She shifted positions so that she was sitting with her legs splayed out, Trevor's head resting on her thigh. Noticing Alucard stifle a yawn behind his lips, she gave him an arch smile. "There's room for both of you if you snuggle." Alucard stiffened like he was going to refuse, so she added, "Come on, you stayed up all night watching over him. I know you're tired."

"So did you," Alucard said, but Sypha could see his defenses crumbling even as he argued.

"Half the night. Besides." She leaned back until she was fully horizontal. "I can sleep, too."

"At least take my coat." In a flash, Alucard was knelt behind her, tucking the folded coat under her head.

"Thank you."

Alucard was silent, back by Trevor's side. "Do I really have to--"

"Yes."

"Alright." Alucard settled down against Trevor and rested his head on Sypha's thigh.

"Good night."

"It's morning."

"Good morning, then." Sypha closed her eyes.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Jan 8th, Friday 21:32

„It didn’t even look like a snowflake. More like a big blob of nothing.“

„We hang the whole ceiling full of them, you should have seen it. So cool.“

Jens watched the two girls giggling though their story, told with too many pauses and constant overlaps of their voices. So much so that he had a hard time to figure out who said what. But it didn’t concern him too much, as they care not much for him and only for Lucas.

Lotte, Olivia and his boyfriend sat crosslegged in the pillow fort, which they all had build over the afternoon. Dinner had been eaten an hour ago and the tiny crumbs, left on otherwise empty dessert plates, were the last reminders of the birthday cake.

Except for the one large piece Jens had saved to give to Lars tomorrow morning, once Olivia would be picked up again.

He stood by the door, halted in affection towards the scene he had found. 

He hadn’t even dared to interrupt them yet, instead opted to lean on the frame, his head resting against the wood, while he smiled at Lucas asking some question, that made no sense to Jens.

„No that would be silly.“ Olivia accused, cackling delighted as Lucas only helplessly shrugged in response.

„Alright. Go on then.“ He tried, hands raised in defense, a loopsided grin on his lips, that Jens hadn’t see so soft and gentle before. His heart fluttered with a faster beat and he was no longer sure if one could actually fall deeper in love, despite being in a relationship for months already.

Lotte didn’t wasted another second to disabuse the poor boy sitting lost between two chattering eight-year-olds as she further explained: „So first you have to take the paper like Emma had done in class.“

She went on to hold up a piece of paper and folded it twice, then laid it back down in their center of the half circle. Though at this point Jens had been noticed, all three pairs of eyes falling on him. Olivia had spotted him first, his name spoken in surprise.

„Don’t mind me.“ Jens only declared, not moving from his place. It somehow was insanly comfortable.

„Ladies, if you’d excuse me.“ Lucas played the part of a gentlemen, little nod and and posh voice included as he rose from his seat, though rather ungraceful, stooped under the stretched blanket of the fort.

Jens bit back a laugh at the attempt from Lucas to step out of the construction, almost falling over the cups at it’s entrace. It wasn’t the biggest thing they could have build, no matter if it contained already half the room. 

Lotte and Olivia had been pretty admant about this size as the bare minimum, both strictly insiting to sleep in the fort tonight. Which also therfore included a huge array of pillows cushioning the floor and two strings of star-shaped fairylights spending a warm light.

Jens was actually quite proud of their achivement, mainly his and Lucas’s under watchful eyes and demanding voices of two girls from the sidelines.

„Hey there.“ Lucas said. And yes Jens definitely fell deeper, enamored by the gorgeous smile and brazen wink he was greeted by, before his boyfriend stopped infront of him. Only to be grapped by his hand and pulled from the doorframe into a kiss.

„I was perfectly fine without you over here.“ Jens teased, when he found his breath again, a grin on his lips.

„Really? Well I can go again.“

„Don’t you dare.“ He replied, holding onto Lucas’s hand, when the younger boy intended to leave fim for the company of his little sister and Olivia again. For a second Jens had expected Lucas to keep uo the act and walk away, instead Lucas gave in easily. Still fingers intertwined, while his boyfriend went to rest his forehead on Jens’s shoulder with a yawn.

„Did they already exhaust you that bad?“ 

Jens’s question was only answered with a nod. Jens couldn’t hold it against him. He as well felt rather sleepy, especially after that first week back in school.

„You did a great job though. Maybe you should consider becoming a kindergartner.“ He said into the mop of curls that he breathed a kiss into. And one more while he waited for Lucas’s answer.

„No. I’ve got other ideas.“ The younger boy said tentive, pushing himself back to be able to lock eyes with Jens, his expression more serious all of a sudden. Jens frowned. However, he let Lucas explain first.

„I’m actually planning on studying law.“

Jens was baffled. Actually perplexed. They hadn’t really talked about their plans yet and even though he hadn’t had imagined their future fields of studies, let alone professions, yet, it took him by surprise. How would that work for their relationship? Law sounded like such a hard and long process to endure and invest years in.

And Lucas was a bright student. Of course it should be something matching his brillance, Jens pondered, unsure what to make out of it now. He didn’t know what he would like to do with himself. Suddenly he felt a little insecure.

Not even considering the fact that Lucas would most likely move back with his mother at the end of the school year.

Their graduation was still six month from now, he had still time, right?

„Are you okay?“

Shaken from his thoughts, his gaze focused back on Lucas and the worried smile he saw across the younger boy’s face. He tried to look happy again, just like he had before the topic had somehow dropped a huge weight onto him. It worked not as well as he had hoped. Perhaps he was shaking a little?

„How about we talk this through another time and not infront of these two.“ Lucas suggested, back on his cheerful tone and expression. Perhaps his boyfriend could read minds. He gestured with one hand behind him, while he left Jens by the door, to collect his phone from the pillow fort.

„How about some music?“ The younger boy asked into the room. The little sound of the blutooth speaker on Lotte’s desk chimed loudly as it turned on, followed by Kool & The Gang with Celebration. Jens huffed a laugh at it, shaking his head, as Lucas started to sway on his spot. „Girls, Jens needs some solace.“

Lotte and Olivia didn’t needed to be told twice, when they jumped up in the fort and darted out towards the older boy. He was tugged further into the room, and then put in between the three people dancing around him for some reason, that only made him wheeze, amused at the ridiculous sight. 

And even though the two girls hummed along the melody and pulled his hands to move in beat with them, his gaze only saw Lucas. His infatuation for the boy only growing by the second. To a daunting degree, it almost felt to much for his heart to handle. So he tried to not think too much about it. Not now.

Jens watched Lucas amazed by the soft beauty in his movement. His daring blue eyes shining in the yellowish lights dancing across his face, as he spun Lotte around. His carefree laugh consuming any other sound for Jens inmidst the chaotic mess that was this room. 

Between draped blankets and star covered pillows Jens only wanted to live in this moment forever.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[hamsterboos]

Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly

🎄Day 9 of 12 Days of PJO Christmas🎄

“So, Ms. I-Plan-Everything, tell me, how are we tackling the absolutely important job of decorating our apartment for Christmas?”

"The plan is simple and involves one thing: buying cute things that’ll look good. We also need a tree that’ll fit in our tiny apartment"

“Annabeth, those are two things.”

“Technicalities.”

PSA: These drabbles are canon-compliant till HoO and just acknowledge the existence of Estelle. Also technology use is a thing.

Read on AO3

~~~~~

“So, Ms. I-Plan-Everything, tell me, how are we tackling the absolutely important job of decorating our apartment for Christmas?” Percy asked his girlfriend as they walked into the store. Annabeth walked over to the area where they stored the carts and grabbed one before taking Percy’s hand.

“The plan is simple and involves one thing: buying cute things that’ll look good. We also need a tree that’ll fit in our tiny ass apartment,” Annabeth responded. Percy watched as she easily navigated them to the décor section of the store, holding the cart with one hand and his in the other. 

“Annabeth, those are two things.”

“Technicalities.”

Percy snorted. “Hopefully we’ll find some good stuff on sale. We should stock up on more stuff around New Year’s when they’re clearing all this stuff out.”

“Honestly? At the bare minimum I just want stuff that’ll match, but we absolutely need a tree.” 

Once in the appropriate aisle, they were surrounded by Christmas decor, and they stood in front of the wreaths first, and as much as it sucked that they had to check the price eight times, they were on a budget.

Living in New York City right after graduation was absolutely so expensive, especially simply six months out of university, and Percy was so utterly thankful for Annabeth’s dad who had gifted her the apartment they lived in as a graduation present (and probably a gift to apologize for ignoring her all those years) , but they still had to pay bills. Not to mention the fact that Percy went back to school for a master’s degree in education while Annabeth was working her way from the bottom in an architecture firm nearby. 

It was safe to say that their budget wasn’t very high.

Annabeth reached out for a small wreath that had a big red ribbon in the center on the top with small gold, green, and red bells along with pine cones dispersed through the rest of the wreath. It was small enough that it would fit in their kitchen window, and it was connected with another bigger wreath as well. The bigger wreath had a similar design except the ribbon was on the bottom of the wreath, and there were more bells and pine cones.

“This is great for the window and the front door, no?” she asked, turning to look at him. Percy took it from her hand and put it into the cart.

“I approve.” Annabeth beamed at him, and he laughed quickly. Going out to shop for Christmas decorations had made him feel like he was a ten year old going out to get a few new ornaments for Christmas with his mom, and it was clear that Annabeth felt the same way. 

She wandered off, leaving the cart to Percy, and he trailed behind her, looking at all the things she stopped to show him, only to realize that they didn’t really fit in their apartment or they were too expensive. Eventually, she came across a rotating stand with Christmas accessories. He watched as she quickly grabbed a reindeer headband with jingling bells and grabbed him to put it on her.

“Oh my god, Annabeth please stop manhandling me,” he whined as she tugged on his collar to pull his head farther down. 

“You’re just a big baby,” she retorted, setting the headband on his head. She let him go and stepped back slightly, a big smile gracing her face as she bit her lip. “You look adorable.”

Percy shook his head slightly and flinched when the loud tinkling of the bells reached his ears. 

“God I’m going to be so obnoxious if I just roam around with this on my head.”

“More so than you already are?

“Can you not.”

“I can’t not.” Percy squinted at her as he took the headband out of his head and threw it in the cart. Annabeth watched him with a curious look on her face, silently asking him why he put it in the cart.

“You can’t expect me not to put it in the cart when you were so excited to put it on me, Annabeth,” he responded in a matter-of-fact tone, and he relished in the fact that he had succeeded in making her smile. “Come on,” he laughed, “we still have a lot of stuff to get.”

He pushed the cart around the aisles, picking up small packs of white and blue ornaments under his insistence. Growing up, everything was blue, and he had to carry the tradition on in his own apartment.

Annabeth had argued that it wasn’t just his apartment anymore, but he knew that she was more than willing to get white and blue ornaments, so he just grinned and put the pack into the cart. They had even managed to find a really pretty garland that came with red and gold ornaments, and despite the fact that the ornaments for the tree didn’t match the garland, Percy found himself not caring. If anything, their apartment would look amazing with the different colors while keeping the color scheme individualized between the tree and garland.

Plus, after asking around for a bit, they found a four foot Christmas tree that came with multi-colored lights strung already through it, so it saved them money having to buy the lights separately. 

“Oh, Percy, look!” Annabeth exclaimed, pointing at a pack of two throw pillows, one white and one red. The red one had white snowflakes patterned onto it on both sides, and the blue one had a gold reindeer outline on one side, the other being completely solid white. “These are just what we need to tie together the colors.” Percy happily watched as she picked up the pack and looked at the price tag, only for her face to fall slightly.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s $25, Perce,” she responded in a dejected tone. Percy bit his lip and quickly did the mental calculation. He had gotten in extra hours teaching swimming at the local gym this past week, so he did have a bit of extra cash at hand that he was going to use for spending on food, but this seemed more important.

“Get it,” he spoke up. She turned to look at him like he was crazy.

“It’s too much for throw pillows,” she responded, shaking her head and beginning to walk away.

“Annabeth,” he stressed, catching her wrist. He moved his hand down to lace his fingers through hers. “We saved some money on the tree, and I have some extra money from working this week.”

“But we don’t need this.”

“We don’t need any of this, but if it’ll make you happy, it’s worth it.”

She looked at him carefully, pursing her lips and furrowing her eyebrows. Her gray eyes searched his face, and he made sure that he left his expression completely open for her to read. She could read him easily, but he needed her to understand that he wanted to get this for her. Because it would make her happy.

They were decorating their home, and if she was happy, that was more than enough for him.

“Are you sure?” she whispered. He nodded, and he cupped her jaw with his free hand, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. “Okay. Thanks,” Annabeth answered, a beautiful smile gracing her face. He grinned and threw the pack of throw pillows in the cart. Annabeth took over driving the car as they walked out of the aisle.

“Okay, let’s go roommate. It’s time we decorated the apartment,” Percy announced, pointing towards the registers. 

“Oh wow I got demoted from girlfriend to roommate real fast.”

“Eh, it happens,” he shrugged, laughing as he wrapped an arm around Annabeth’s shoulders.

~*~

“Percy! The gold and red ornaments are with the garland.”

“Oh Jesus, woman, why are they with the tree, then?!”

“I don’t know? You put them there!”

“Annabeth, you took the stuff out of the bags while I made lunch.”

Annabeth scowled at him as she responded, “You moved everything off the couch so we could watch a movie while eating.”

“You pushed it all to the side while dragging me to the bedroom, Annabeth,” he responded, mocking her tone.

“The whole reason we even got the blue ornaments for the tree was because of you, asshole,” she answered, smacking him in the bicep as he got down from the chair to put down the box of ornaments and switch it with the red and gold ones.

“First of all, ow. Second of all, you could help me instead of staring at me.”

“Staring at the help is the best part of decorating, though,” Annabeth answered, smirking slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Well then, how about you do the decorating so I can do the staring?” he responded, holding out the box of decorations towards her. He beamed at her, hoping that he could break her, and he watched as she glanced between him and the box.

In the end, she sighed and took the box from him, climbing up the chair. 

“You know, that’s really not fair,” she spoke up as she took an ornament out of the box before setting it down on the chair by her feet. She reached up to hook it through the garland, a bit of skin showing as her shirt rode up with the stretch of her arms.

“What?” he asked, his eyes transfixed on the small bit of skin without him even meaning to look there.

“The fact that you can just look at me and get me to do things.” That broke him out of his stupor as he barked a laugh. She shuffled around on the chair, turning to look at him with her hands on her waist. He walked over to her and grabbed her hand, tugging her down the chair. Confused, she moved down. Percy gave the box of ornaments to his girlfriend and stood up on the chair, holding a hand out.

She still just stared at him, completely lost, and he made grabbing motions towards the ornaments.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, handing him one. He hooked it into the garland before speaking.;

“You have the same effect on me so we’re even.”

Thirty minutes later, the wreaths were hanging on the window and door, the tree was assembled and twinkling under the dimmed lights of the living room, and the garland was hanging from the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The throw pillows were set on either side of their sofa, and Percy felt intense happiness for the life he had finally managed to get for himself.

~~~~~

Day 1 || Day 2 || Day 3 || Day 4 || Day 5 || Day 6 || Day 7 || Day 8

[forever-more-never-again]

Thaw (A Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 2375

Pairing: Natasha X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, murder, fighting

Request: Could you do a Natasha x mutant reader where the reader has frost powers and she can control ice/snow/temperature? Maybe the reader starts off as a villain and gets arrested, then the avengers find out about her powers and send Natasha to recruit her? Thx luv

A/n: Didn’t specify a happy ending so ahahahaha....I may have made this a little angsty....  hahaha don’t hurt me, enjoy

Masterlist

Time seemed to stand still as you ran through the siberian forest.

The snow was pristine and the lack of any animals made it seem like you were running through molasses.

The scenery never changing.

Of course you didn’t feel the biting cold, you couldn’t feel the freezing snow under your bare feet, or the ice cold air drawn into your lungs.

Perks of being a mutant with ice abilities. You never got cold. Never felt cold. It was like you were immune to the one thing that made you a freak to normal people.

The reason you were currently on the run.

“Find them! Now! We can't let those documents fall into the wrong hands!”

The stern, bellowing voice broke through your reverie and you picked up your pace. The files in your hands tucked against your chest.

You had been paid top dollar to steal confidential files from an Avenger sanctioned Blacksite.

You didn’t know what was in the files, you didn’t need to know. 

To survive in a world that had only looked down on you, had been cruel and unjust, you did what you had to to survive. Which was how you found a group of mutants in America that used their abilities to be sold to the highest bidder to survive.

It didn’t matter who bought your service. Be it government, villains, civilians, as long as they followed the guidelines used by the group.

No real names. No contact except through a secure site. Payment up front. And complete discretion from both sides.

You had survived breaking a prisoner of war out from camps in the middle east, stealing a priceless artifact from high security museums. You had even gathered evidence on the occasional cheating spouse.

This was the first, and you thought grimly, last time you would take a request to steal something from the Avengers or SHIELD. 

When you dropped off the files, you would make sure to pass the info to any customers. 

Because being chased by Captain America and Iron Man was not something you ever wanted to experience again.

“Got visuals on them...Holy Shit Cap’ it’s the Mercenary FrostBite!”

You growled low in your throat. Shit.

“Turn yourself in FrostBite! This doesn’t have to get messy!” Iron Man’s electronic voice boomed through the sky.

Turning quickly, without losing momentum, running backwards, you smirked up at the suit flying after you.

“How about no!” You shouted up at him before gulping in a breath of air and releasing it in a slow stream.

Before he could dodge, Iron Man’s entire suit was coated in ice and he fell like a brick out of the sky.

“Tony!”

Looking down, you saw Captain America sprinting towards me, gaze burning with determination.

You winked at him and blew a kiss, which brought up a huge wall of thick ice. And caused a flurry of snowflakes to block his line of sight.

Giving you just enough time to jump into the portal of one of the other Mutants and disappear back to the base in New Jersey.

“Woah. [Y/n], you look like hell. What happened?” The portal wielder, some young guy named Amuk, asked before shaking his head, “Never mind. I don’t care. Just get to the drop off site so you can go on your next mission.”

You huffed. You had just gotten chased by some of the Avengers. But that was the way it was around here. Everyone for themselves. No one was friends. If you died, no one cared. It was just a way to get money and survive.

You had a day before you had to drop the file off at the designated drop off site. And now you were curious.

What was so important in these files that someone paid for you to get them out of a blacksite used by the Avengers?

You tried to never look into what you were paid to steal, but this had your attention now, and the more you tried not to think about it, the more it called to you.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore, and in the safety of your room, which was really just a hollowed out hole in the side of the abandoned subway station where the group lived, you flipped open the file.

A picture was the first thing to meet your curious gaze.

It showed a cell with the walls covered in plans and diagrams.

You were interested in them as they seemed to depict doomsday devices like bombs, pathogens, and different ways to take out high powered world leaders and officials.

The next page showed a picture of the guy who you believed was responsible for the frantic words scribbled along the diagrams.

A disgraced Hydra scientist. Adal Herscher. Seems like SHIELD had captured him during a raid on a Hydra bunker several years back and now Hydra wanted him back.

Your skin crawled. The money that sat innocently in your backpack now seemed menacing. Blood money.

Inner Ward you were wondering why this bothered you now. You never cared who bought your services before.

Then another side of you piped up saying you never knew who bought your services before so you never had to worry but now that you knew it was Hydra…

Now though, you wanted to destroy this file and get rid of the money you had from the organization.

You knew all about Hydra and you knew what they did to Mutants. How could you be sure that they wouldn’t come after you? 

Even though you were anonymous, everyone who used the group knew that it was run and provided by Mutants. Particularly, mutants that had nowhere else to go. No one to miss them if they went missing.

And then you got to the page that showed who caught him. Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow.

You were embarrassed to admit you felt your cheeks warm as you stared at her picture.

She was so strong and beautiful and deadly. 

“Oi! [Y/n]! Just received a transmission. Whoever asked for that item you acquired wants it at the drop site today instead. Top Priority, they’re willing to give another five hundred grand for it.”

Startled, you slam the file shut and look up at Amuk. He just raised a disinterested eyebrow and waved a hand, opening a portal to where the drop site was.

For the first time in the five years since you had joined this group, you hesitated.

Drawing a deep breath, you stepped through the portal. And immediately regretted it. The sun blazed down on you. Causing you to drop your temperature to stay cool, but also taking a lot more energy from you to do so in the presence of such intense heat.

Looking around, you saw that the drop site was apparently outside the Colosseum in Rome. Great. You knew the client had said the drop site was an underground arena, but you had thought they meant like an underground boxing ring. Not a literal underground arena. 

A bunch of tourists were giving you strange looks as the portal closed behind you.

You were still dressed in the outfit from Siberia which consisted of bare feet, black spandex and a plain tshirt.

Minimum protection, but it allowed you to use your mutation to its max capacity.

You held the file close to your chest, avoiding the weird looks you were getting as you walked to the ticket line and flashed your most innocent smile.

“Hello. There should be a ticket on hold for me. Under S.S. Dereks.” The woman behind the counter clicked a few times on her computer and smiled back at you.

“Yes. Here you are. Looks like you have a pass to tour the construction that is happening to the underground area of the Colosseum, so if you follow that path,” She pointed you in the direction away from the rest of the tourists, “You’ll see the security. Just show them your ticket and you’ll be good to go!”

You thanked the woman and followed her directions, ignoring the uneasiness that came from being underground.

The security guards gave me no trouble, but I eyed the stun guns they had on their belts. 

The underground arena was quiet, and a lot cooler than it had been up top. There were boards of wood and power saws and tools scattered everywhere. Tarp covering areas, and signs marking certain historical stones and areas that weren’t to be touched.

You found a small insignificant toolbox off to the side and opened it up. Inside was the extra five hundred grand promised and you took it out and replaced it with the folder.

“I’m so sorry. I hate that I’m doing this. But I need to survive.” You didn’t know who you were apologizing too, or why you were talking out loud to yourself. But it didn’t help ease the small amount of guilt you felt as you closed the toolbox and began walking back out.\

That was when you felt it. The sensation of being watched. Not giving away that anything was wrong. You began forming icicles over your fingers.

And with one quick twist, you released the sharp claws up towards where you thought the person was.

There was a dim sound of the ice hitting stone, but no one cried out and nobody dropped from the rafters.

“Hmm…” You eyed the dark area suspiciously for a moment, before turning around, and immediately jumping back.

In front of you stood Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow, in her SHIELD outfit and glaring at you.

Snow blew in her face as you threw your hands up and let ice grow on your fingers again in preparation to strike.

But she didn’t charge. She didn’t settle into a fighting stance. 

So you took the incentive to start the banter before the inevitable fight, “How did you find out about this?”

Black Widow shook her head, her gaze softening, “[Y/n] [Y/l/n], alias FrostBite. Mutant Gene carrier that gave ice and snow abilities. Abandoned and ran away from foster homes before seeming to disappear off the map. Joined a Mutant group in New Jersey that sells out their services to the highest bidder. Wether that be murder, arson, stealing, or otherwise. But you, you’ve never killed. The most you have done in the past five years is steal and spy.”

Your eyes were blown wide as she recited your history to you. How did she know all that?

“What do you want with me!?” A growl and snarl ripped from your throat as you raised your hands, the ice on your nails growing to a sharp point, ready to fire at a single moment.

Natasha cocked her head, you tensed, “You stole a file. Did you read it?”

Your eyes swept over to the toolbox quickly, but not fast enough that Natasha didn’t see it.

“We know Hydra wants that file. That they want that scientist back from the black site you stole it from. Why steal for them? You know what they do…”

You felt heat sting your eyes and silently cursed at yourself telling yourself not to cry. You would not show weakness.

“You remember what it’s like, don’t you Natalia Alianovna!” You spat her name, enjoying her mild look of surprise, “Yeah, I know who you are. You should know what it’s like for us who don’t fit into society's perfect little mold. You do what you have to to survive. To live another day. To hope that one day it will get better. I do what I do to survive. You seem to have forgotten what that was like ever since you became oh so popular Black Widow.”

Natasha’s shoulders dropped the longer you spoke. Your voice was growing in volume until you were nearly shouting. And then, with horror, you realized you were crying.

The tears were hot against your cheeks as they fell to the dusty floor.

“Then let me help you. Let me use the power I have now to give you a better future than the one you have right now.”

Her words were so soft. So warm. You wanted nothing more than to agree, to take the hand she held out to you and let her take you away. But you knew that the future was not going to happen.

“Your promises are empty Natasha Romanoff. Empty and cold just like my heart. I have done things you will never find out, things that haunt my nightmares. You can’t save me. No one can.”

A sob heaved through you, causing the ice on your fingers to melt off.

A soft hand on your cheek had you jerking and then you were swimming in emerald green.

“You can choose to be good. You can choose to help instead of hurt. If I can be redeemed, so can you.”

In a sudden decision that you would most probably later regret, you surged forward and captured Natasha’s lips with yours.

The salt from your tears mingled with the heady aroma of cherries and the taste of vanilla on her tongue.

It was everything you dreamed and more. 

Just as suddenly, you tore away from her with a gasp, stumbling out of her reach.

She stared at you with wide eyes, one hand reaching up to touch her lips.

“Take the file. Once I knew it was Hydra that hired me, I didn’t want to complete the mission. Take it and never come after me again. Or I will fight you. Goodbye...Natasha.”

And before she could recover you ran.

You ran with your tears streaming down your face.

Regretting leaving her behind already.

But you knew nothing good could come of you going with Black Widow.

She didn’t know. No One knew. You had been the one...all those years ago...that had murdered your parents when they tried to beat you. You had been the one...that had shot and killed a witness...by shooting through Natasha’s abdomen.

Your crush would go unrequited, but, as you jumped through the portal, you touched your lips, remembering the taste of her, at least you got something to remember her by during the lonely cold nights.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t​ @mialeelavellan​ @rainydaysrnevergrey​ @platonic-plots​ @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi​ @queenbbarnes​ @mythixmagic​ @chas-z​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @strangersstranger​ @princess-evans-addict​ @rororo06​ @timelordhunterandmysterysolver​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx 

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Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc​ @marvel-is-a-mood​ @brynnloh​

[ohemgeeitscoley]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered (4/8)

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Rey/Ben Solo (Reylo)

Note: And the chapter count keeps going up. I was thinking I’d just up it to 7, because maybe I can get this done in 7 chapters, but 8 is probably a more realistic number. I hope if you are reading this that you are enjoying it. I truly have had so much fun writing Ben and Rey in this universe. As always, @andyouweremine​ is the world’s best beta and friend and deserves so much credit for all of her work. 

Read below or on AO3

“What are we going to do?” Ben asks Rey as soon as she steps in the elevator. “This can’t all fall apart now of all times.”

Rey knows that the situation is bad just from the conversations she’s had with Amilyn, and that’s overheard while in the office that morning, but looking at Ben and taking in his loose tie and hair that’s slightly disheveled, she knows that it is really, really bad.

“I know.” Rey sighs, pressing her fingers into her temple while leaning her head back against the elevator wall. “Why couldn’t this happen next week? I mean, it’ll suck whenever it does happen. But this weekend, Ben, we deserve this weekend.”

“I don’t know how we are going to fix this. I don’t even know if I’m going to have time to help try to fix anything.” Ben glances up at the ceiling. “The lemon electricity project was directly in Snoke’s war path this morning. It’s completely destroyed. The science fair is tomorrow. I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

“Oh, Ben.” Rey reaches out and places her hand on his arm. “I’ll come up and help tonight. I have a lifelong history of waiting until the last minute to do projects. We’ll come up with something.”

“We need a plan,” Ben says, looking down at Rey before nodding slowly a few times. “I am going to admit that we need a Rey plan.”

Rey snorts. “Of course now is when you admit that my plans are far superior to yours.”

Ben laughs and it makes Rey smile. There should be no smiling or laughter at this moment, Rey knows that there is a very, very good chance she’s going to have to tell Kaydel that she can’t make the engagement party. That Ben is going to have to miss Leia’s birthday. Rey is barely able to keep her own disappointment down that this means that their date isn’t going to happen.

If they can’t fix whatever happened last night, everything they’ve worked so hard for is going to slip right from their grasp.

So, no there shouldn’t be any laughter or smiling, but it fills Rey up with hope that maybe even without Amilyn and Snoke together, things between her and Ben can be good.

“Do you even know what happened?” Rey asks while they walk out of the elevator and through the main lobby of the building. It’s windy, Rey pulls her sweater tight. “Amilyn did not want to talk about it. I have some random clues like that he’s an insufferable embarrassment, something about food, and I think vomit?”

Ben grimaces. “Yeah, that’s about all I was able to get out of Snoke. Only in his version Amilyn is vindictive and was out to make a fool of him.”

“Great.” Rey closes her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. “We need to get them both to apologize to each other. Like the original phone call, where we got them both to think that the only one was initiating contact.”

“I’ve never heard Snoke say anything remotely close to the word sorry, Rey.”

“Yeah,” Rey acknowledges Ben’s point, tossing her hands up a bit in the air. “I can’t say I have for Amilyn either, but that’s what they are both going to want to hear. They need to believe that the other one is sorry. Otherwise, it’s goodbye weekend and hello work.”

“Any ideas on how to make that work?” 

“Nope,” Rey shakes her head. “But we’ll come up with something, Ben. We have to. I have not spent the last three days tearing apart my closet looking for the perfect outfit to wear to your mom’s lunch to not at least try to salvage this.”

Ben grabs onto Rey’s hand, spinning her around. He’s got this small smile on his face that feels so intimate and personal that Rey almost wants to look away. Only, she thinks that the smile is meant for her and that freezes her in place.

“You’re worried about what to wear to my mom’s party?” He asks, and his smile grows. 

Rey blushes, glancing away. “I mean, a little bit,” Rey admits and Ben squeezes her hand. It’s reassuring and when Rey looks back at him, he’s still got that smile on his face and his eyes are soft and he looks so happy. “I want your parents to like me. I want to make a good impression.”

“You will,” Ben says and it sounds like a promise. “Trust me. You could show up wearing those pajamas with the snowflakes and reindeer on them and my parents would still love you.”

Rey narrows her eyes at Ben, using her free hand to playfully shove against his shoulder. “You were never supposed to see those pajamas. They are my comfort pajamas.”

“They’re cute.”

Rey turns around, tugging on Ben’s hand as she starts walking again. “We’ll figure this out Ben.”

“I believe you,” Ben replies and there’s so much confidence in his voice that Rey almost believes him. “Besides, I’ve also been going through my clothes trying to figure out what to wear to Kaydel’s engagement party, and I would hate to have all of that time wasted.”

“You’re struggling with what to wear?” Rey questions, knitting her eyebrows together. “You? The guy who wears suits to a Yankees game is unsure of what he is going to wear to an engagement party?”

“Yeah,” Ben answers and Rey looks over at him as he shrugs a little, his lips twisting in a mischievous grin. “I have it narrowed down to these two black suits. But one is more black than the other, and I’m just not sure. And then the tie and the undershirt. I mean, should I add in a dash of color? Or keep it to my usual with a white shirt and black tie?”

“My dress is green,” Rey offers. “You could find something to go with that?”

“Green? Yeah. I can work with green.” 

Rey smiles at Ben as he holds the door open to the coffee shop for her. “Now, I really have to figure out a good plan for this. I can’t miss an opportunity to see Ben Solo wearing color.”

Ben shakes his head. “You’re a little bit ridiculous.”

“So are you,” Rey points out, grabbing a banana muffin from the shelf as they stand in line. “I think it works for us.”

***

Ben stares at the computer screen, scrolling through Pinterest and the different “easy” science fair project ideas.

Absolutely none of them look easy. At a minimum it would take him days to get the projects ready. Glancing down at his watch, Ben sighs. It’s almost 11 pm and the project has to be done by 7 am for it to make it to the school in time. 

He has eight hours to somehow figure out a project, by the necessary items to complete the project, build the project and write out the information on a posterboard. Even with Rey’s help, Ben isn’t sure how this is going to work at all.

Ben’s a little worried about Rey, if he’s being completely honest. He hasn’t heard from her since they got coffee that morning and agreed to meet tonight to go over whatever plan she manages to come up with and to work on the science project together. The original plan had been for them to meet at 10, but she hasn’t shown up and she hasn’t responded to his messages.

The elevator dings and Ben looks over, a smile already on his face at the thought of seeing Rey. Only it isn’t Rey walking across the office, it’s Snoke. Snoke’s movements are much more loose than normal, there’s a certain sway to his body when he walks toward Ben. Once Snoke is closer Ben can see the mostly empty bottle of alcohol in Snoke’s hand and it all clicks.

“You’re still here?” Snoke asks, and if the bottle and the walk hadn’t given it away, the slight slur to Snoke’s words would have. Snoke is definitely drunk.

“Yeah,” Ben answers, standing up from his desk. “The project is due tomorrow. So, I’m trying to come up with something.”

Snoke almost looks remorseful as he looks at the remnants of the destroyed science project sticking out of the trash can near Ben’s desk.

“You’re a good guy.” Snoke says and Ben tries to keep the shock off of his face. It almost sounds like an apology. It is definitely a compliment. “I don’t tell you that and I should.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ben responds, running his hands down his suit jacket. “I appreciate it.”

“You want a drink?” Snoke offers, holding up the bottle in his hands. “I have more in my office.”

Ben nods, following behind Snoke as he heads into the office. 

They are silent as Ben watches Snoke  try to open the bottle in his desk. Ben wants to take the bottle from him and open it himself, but he also knows better than to push his luck when it comes to Snoke and what he might take as offensive. Snoke starts rummaging around his office looking for something to open the bottle with. Ben’s eyes widen as he pulls out a small knife and goes to try to cut the cork out of the bottle.

“Why don’t I try first?” Ben asks, but he’s already moving and placing his hand on the bottle and taking it away from Snoke.

It’s surprising how little resistance there is from Snoke. Ben pulls the cork out easily, setting it down on the desk before pouring the alcohol into the two cups Snoke had set down on the desk in front of him.

Ben waits for Snoke to take the first drink before taking his own. 

The alcohol burns his throat, but it’s good. Not that Snoke would have anything less than excellent alcohol in his office.

“I think I fucked up.” Snoke says after a few moments. “With Amilyn. She’s… well, she’s something.”

Ben thanks whatever higher power is giving him this opportunity, but is also growing steadily concerned that he is going to somehow fuck up whatever advice he is about to give Snoke. This could be his and Rey’s one opportunity to fix things between Snoke and Amilyn.

Of course it would fall into his lap. 

Rey would know what to say.

Ben doesn’t quite know what to say, so he just nods instead. Snoke seems to take that as a signal to keep talking.

“I almost called her before coming up here, you know?” Snoke finishes his drink and quickly refills his glass. “But I can’t make myself do that. I can’t be the one to call first. What kind of guy would that make me?”

Ben finishes his drink and says the first thing that comes into his head, hoping that if it blows up in his face that he might be able to get away with being a little too drunk, or that he can get Snoke drunk enough to forget it.

“The kind that cares about someone?” Ben offers. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Relationships should be a bit of give and take, don’t you think?”

“Not in my experience.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to keep seeing Amilyn, maybe you should go up there and talk to her. Tell her what you just told me. That you fucked up. That she’s something… special. Women like to hear that. And, honestly, would you rather be with her or down here drinking with me?”

Snoke doesn’t respond. Instead, he twirls the cup in his hand, watching the amber liquid swirl and push against the glass. He takes another drink and sets the glass down.

“I’m going to head out,” Snoke finally says, standing up. Ben’s almost positive that he can see a small smile flash over his face for a second. “You can head home whenever.”

Ben decides it’s not the best time to remind Snoke that he actually can’t go home whenever because he has a science project to complete in less than eight hours. Instead, he follows Snoke out of his office and over to the elevator and watches as Snoke presses the up button.

He’s going to see Amilyn.

Somehow, whatever he said maybe worked.

Ben runs back to his desk once Snoke is on the elevator and grabs his cell phone to call Rey to tell her to get the fuck out of the office, if she’s still there. 

***

“Hey,” Rey says as she answers Ben’s call, “I know we were supposed to meet like, God, over an hour ago, but Amilyn has been yelling at me to do a million different things and I haven’t even had a chance to start coming up with a plan--”

“Rey,” Ben interrupts, his voice sounds almost giddy with excitement. It throws Rey off. “You need to get out of the office. Now.”

“What?” Rey narrows her eyes in confusion, half of her attention still on the magazine layout she’s been working on for the last hour. “I just told you that I can’t leave the office, Ben. Amilyn would kill--”

“Snoke is on his way up. He’s drunk. He is going to apologize to her,” Ben interrupts again. Now the happiness in his voice makes sense.

“Are you serious?” Rey asks, but she’s already saving the project she’s working on and closing out of the different applications. 

Ben doesn’t need to answer because Rey hears the elevator and watches as Snoke starts walking toward Amilyn’s office. Rey scrambles out of her chair and tries to hide underneath her desk.

“He’s here,” Rey whispers, a large grin on her face, she’s trying not to giggle at the situation she’s in. “How the fuck am I going to get out of here without them seeing me?”

“I don’t know,” Ben replies and Rey can clearly see the teasing look that must be on his face by the tone of his voice. “But figure it out and get down here. I need more help than I’d like to admit on this project.”

Rey hangs up and slides the phone into her pocket. Snoke is leaning against Amilyn’s door and is saying something that is beyond inappropriate and yet Amilyn’s laughing and telling him to come in. Rey waits until Snoke is in her office and the door is closed before she starts crawling around her desk. 

She’s not quite sure how her life involves moments of her crawling across the office floor to avoid ruining her boss’s sex life, but she’s not even mad about it.

The birthday party is back on. The engagement party is on. And she gets to spend the rest of her night helping Ben. 

All in all, her day is ending much better than it began.

Rey stands once she reaches the elevator, her fingers hover over the call button, but she pulls away and walks toward the stairs. She doesn’t want to risk more noise than necessary. 

Her mind is almost racing as she makes her way down the stairs trying to figure out how exactly Ben managed to pull this off. She hated admitting that she had managed to come up with absolutely zero plans on how to make things better between Amilyn and Snoke.

But somehow Ben had. Which is all that really matters.

Rey’s glad that she at least has a few different science project ideas to offer Ben. 

“Hey there,” Rey says as she walks over to where Ben is waiting for her in front of the elevator.

Ben doesn’t say anything in response, he just wraps his arms around Rey’s and spins her around a few times. 

“It worked!” Ben exclaims, setting Rey back down, his hands still loose on her hips.

“How did you pull this off? Rey asks, smiling up at him. “I might have to concede the best planner title.”

Ben chuckles, taking Rey’s hand as they walk over to his desk. “Honestly? I didn’t really do much.”

“What do you mean?”

“Snoke came in about half an hour ago. He was pretty drunk.” Ben shrugs. “He asked if I wanted to drink and then he started talking about Amilyn. And I just asked if he’d rather be with her or down here drinking with me. And then he left.”

“Amazing,” Rey says, her mouth opening a little in surprise. “I’ve spent all day trying to come up with the perfect apology that the two of them could send each other, and Snoke just, decides to be half decent today?”

“I couldn’t believe it,” Ben shakes his head, leaning back against his desk. Rey lets go of his hand and sits on the desk next to him. “I’ve spent most of the day planning out the phone call to my mom that we weren’t going to be able to make it.”

“That’s what you’ve spent your day on?” Rey bumps her shoulder against his. “No wonder you haven’t gotten anywhere on this science project.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “I’ve spent hours searching for a replacement project and none of them seem like something I can pull off in a few hours. Despite this working out well tonight for Snoke and Amilyn, there’s a pretty good chance I’m getting fired tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not going to happen,” Rey intertwines her fingers and stretches her arms out in front of her and then above her head. “I’ve come up with three easy options that we can definitely get done tonight.”

“Really?” Ben doesn’t sound like he believes her at all. “Three options? You managed to come up with three science project ideas but zero ideas on how to fix our bosses’s relationship?”

Rey shrugs. “Like I said, I have extensive experience on doing projects at the last minute. Do you want to hear the options are not?”

“Please continue.” Ben holds his hand out in front of Rey in an offering for her to proceed. 

“First, we could make homemade lava lamps. Second, we could make pennies turn green. Or, finally, the third option is magic milk.”

“A lava lamp?” Ben tilts his head down, taking a deep breath. “Rey, I can’t send Snoke’s kid to school with a homemade lava lamp for his science project.”

“Right.” Rey claps her hands together. “Magic milk it is then.”

“What is magic milk exactly?”

Rey just smiles at him, hoping off of the desk and walking toward the office kitchen.

“It’s magic.”

***

Ben watches Rey as she moves around the office kitchen with a familiarity that if he didn’t know better, he would assume that she works there. Which in all fairness, she has spent enough time with him at the office over the last few weeks that it makes sense.

She grabs three small bowls from one cabinet, balancing them in one hand as she searches through the drawers until she pulls out a box of food dye. The small fist bump in the air that she does when she finds the box is possibly one of the most adorable things Ben has seen.

He almost tells her that.

“Can I help get anything?” He asks instead.

“I got it all.” Rey frowns, her nose scrunching as she tries to concentrate on grabbing a bottle of dish soap. 

“Here,” Ben offers, closing the distance between them and grabbing the soap from her hands. “Let me help.”

“Right,” Rey breathes, smiling at him. “Grab the milk from the fridge and meet me over there.” 

Ben follows her gaze to a table next to a window on the far side of the office. He nods and heads over to the kitchen. He grabs the milk from the fridge, and a box of cookies that are next to the fridge that he’s positive Rey will want. 

Rey’s eyes light up when he sets the cookies down in front of her. 

“Magic milk is really very simple,” Rey starts, separating the stack of bowls and placing one bowl in front of him, one in the middle of them, and one in front of her. “You just add a little milk to the bowls.”

Ben follows her instructions, pouring milk into each bowl, stopping once Rey nods at him. 

“Perfect.” she says, opening the box of food dye and dumping out the small bottles of different colored dye. “Now, we just add a few drops of food dye.”

Ben grabs the green and yellow first, carefully dropping a few drops of each color into the bowl. He trades the colors for the red and blue bottles that Rey has and adds them as well.

“And now,” Rey rubs her hands together in excitement. “The magic happens.”

“Is there an incantation we need to say first?” Ben teases. Rey rolls her eyes in mock annoyance and the moment feels so familiar that Ben’s heart swells a bit. 

He’s falling for her. 

It’s possible that he has already fallen for her and he’s just in denial about it because he’s not quite sure how someone like Rey would feel the same way.

Only she does. He can tell that she does with the soft way she looks at him when she doesn't think he’s paying attention. And in the way she grabs his hand when they are walking or how she reaches out to comfort him when he’s frustrated or upset. 

She said that going to his mom’s birthday was a date. She invited him to Kaydel’s engagement party. She’s nervous about meeting his parents.

There’s really no doubt that she feels the same way. 

Yet, He just can’t quite wrap his head around it.

“Absolutely.” Rey agrees. “So go ahead. This is your project. Say the magic words.”

Ben stares at Rey, shaking his head. “I’m afraid magic words weren’t taught at any of the fancy schools I went to.”

“Sure.” Rey laughs before she sits up straight. She holds her palms out flat over the bowls and starts moving her hands in semi-circles over the bowls while humming. “And abracadabra.” 

She grabs the bottle of soap and squeezes a small drop into the milk and Ben watches as the colors dance around the milk.

It’s amazing.

“You’re amazing.” He says out loud.

Rey blushes, looking away from him, but not before he could note the way her eyes warm at his words. “I told you it was magic.”

“You did,” Ben agrees, taking the bottle from Rey and holding it over his own bowl. He sighs, closing his eyes as he mimics the hand gestures Rey had made earlier and whispers abracadabra before lightly squeezing the bottle and watching the way the colors in his own bowl swirl and move along the milk.

Rey’s laughing and moving to rest her elbows on the table, before pressing her head against her palm and she watches him. “I think this is a winner myself. Lemon electricity has got nothing on this.”

“We’ll have to write the instructions out,” Ben points out. “Make sure we have enough supplies to send along with the poster board to allow for demonstrations. I think this is an experiment that is going to require a lot of hands-on activity.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Rey agrees, running a finger over the edge of the bowl in front of her. “Want me to help with the poster board? On my never ending list of talents is my terrible penmanship. It’ll really sell that a child put this together.”

“You don’t have to,” Ben says, despite the fact that he wants her to stay. “I’m sure Kaydel wouldn’t mind seeing you.”

“Nah,” Rey shrugs. “Rose has the night off. And I could crash and be a third wheel, but I’d rather… I’d rather stay here with you? If that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” Ben says softly. “Can we try again?” 

"Yeah, absolutely. Let me just--"  Rey stands from her seat and moves into the chair next to him so that she's in front of the remaining bowl. 

Ben doesn't think when he reaches down for her hand. He watches as her cheeks redden and she smiles. It's small. Her lips barely turn up at the corners, but it's there and it's his and it's enough.

"Pour the milk?" Rey asks as she squeezes his hand.

Ben doesn't take his eyes off of her while he pours the milk. Rey has half her attention on the bowl and half on his lips and Ben would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the way she was struggling to keep her attention on the bowl over him. 

He's going to kiss her, he decides.

It's been on his mind for a while. He is constantly replaying the kiss from the Yankees game in his head. He longs for it. The feeling of her lips against his. How she grasped his shirt and the image in his head of her fingers grasping his hair.

Rey keeps her eyes on him while she grabs the blue dye. Ben watches as she squeezes two drops into the milk. Then when she grabs the red dye and repeats her actions. 

She leans closer to him, her grasp tightening in his own. 

"That's all the color you want to add?" Ben asks, his voice low and quiet. He uses his free hand to grab the yellow dye and adds a few drops. "What about the soap?"

Rey turns her head to look at him. She's so close to him it would take just a little movement to dip his head down and kiss her. He wants to kiss her again. She grabs the soap bottle that's next to his arm, brushing her fingers along the skin that's exposed from where he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. 

She doesn't take her eyes off of his when she tips the bottle upside down and squeezes so that a few drops of soap fall into the bowl.

Rey's gaze drops from his eyes to his lips. He isn’t surprised when she closes the distance and presses her lips against his. 

Ben closes his eyes and kisses her back. Neither of them watch the dye and the soap interact, but Ben can imagine the way the colors would dance in his mind and knows that kissing Rey is a much better use of his time.  

Rey deepens the kiss, one hand resting on the nape of his neck, her fingers twisting into the strands of his hair.

When they finally pull away from each other, Ben rests his forehead against hers and she's smiling at him. She looks so thrilled and happy and it does something to Ben's heart to see that look on her face as a direct result of him. 

It is possible that he's more than just a little gone for her already.

"So," Rey says, pressing her lips to his cheek before dropping her hand against his neck and standing up. "Where are those poster board supplies?"

***

"I can't believe your guys engagement party is tomorrow," Rey says, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. 

Rose's face lights up the second Rey says the word engagement and it makes Rey so happy to see her friend so joyful. 

"Don't tell Kaydel," Rose whispers, leaning in closer to Rey. "But I haven't figured my speech out yet at all. At first I thought maybe she wasn't serious about it. But she's been working on hers so diligently and now I have no idea what I'm going to do. Or say."

Rey takes a drink of her water. "You're going to be fine. Just speak from your heart and you it'll be great. Better than great."

"What if it's bad?" Rose shakes her head. "I don't want to let her down. I swear we are doing traditional vows. I don't know if I can do this again."

Rey hates seeing Rose this insecure. It's so different than how she usually comes across. Rose has always been confident and sure of herself. 

"Hey," Rey reaches out, placing her hand on Rose's arm, gently squeezing it. "I promise if it starts to get bad I'll make a big scene and get everyone to focus on me instead."

"I love you," Rose grins, her eyes a little watery. "Seriously. I hope you are ready for a lifetime of me needing you around."

Rey pulls Rose in for a hug. "Wouldn't have it any other way," Rey whispers, her voice cracking a bit at the end. "I'm so glad Kay found you."

"Guys!" Kaydel shouts as she walks into the kitchen.

Rey lets go of Rose, taking a step back and wiping at her eyes.

Kaydel frowns, looking between Rey and Rose. "What's going on in here? Why are you guys crying?"

"No reason," Rey says, stepping forward to wrap an arm around Kaydel's waist. "We were just talking about your engagement party and I got emotional. I'm so happy for you guys."

Kaydel does not look like she believes Rey at all, but Rey is glad when she lets it go, wrapping an arm back around Rey. 

"So, you going to tell me what you were doing at work until 1 am for the first time in weeks?" Kaydrl asks and Rey hates how knowing she sounds. It’s almost as if she somehow knows that she was late for non work reasons. "Amilyn keeping you too busy?"

Rey rolls her eyes and looks over to Rose for help. 

"Don't look at me like that," Rose laughs, pointing her finger at Rey. "We both know you're keeping something from us."

"My money is on Ben," Kaydel announces, bumping her hip against Rey's. "Were you hooking up with him? Is that way you were so happy when you came home?"

"We did not hook up," Rey says quickly. "It was just a kiss."

"I knew it!" Kaydel let's go of Rey, pumping her fists into the air. "I totally called this."

Rey rolls her eyes, one hand resting on her hip as she watches Kaydel dance around the small kitchen. Rose is laughing, letting Kaydel pull her into a dance. 

"I'm bringing him tomorrow." Rey watches as Kaydel's smile grows, excitement practically beaming from every inch of her body. 

"This is not enough advance warning," Kaydel puts a finger up to her mouth, making an exaggerated thoughtful face. "I need at least 3 days to come up with a full list of interrogation questions to make sure he's good enough for you."

"Why do you think I'm telling you now?" Rey laughs at the fake look of hurt that crosses Kaydel's face. "Besides, you'll be too busy being all coupley and in love and celebrating your engagement to ask my boy… Ben anything."

Rose's eyes light up at Rey's almost slip up. "We both know Kaydel is capable of doing all of that and interrogating Ben at the same time."

Rey tips her head back and takes a deep breath. 

Rose is absolutely right. Kaydel is perfectly capable of doing that.

Tomorrow night is going to be interesting. 

"Let’s see if I make it through his mom's lunch first," Rey says after a moment, looking back at Kaydel and Rose. "Maybe he'll be sick of me and won't come."

"Nah," Kaydel shakes her head. "He'll be there. And I can't wait to meet him."

***

Rey looks at the apartment numbers once she finishes walking up the stairs to Ben's floor. She's still a little surprised to see how dingy the hallway looks. Ben had told her about how determined he was to make it on his own and to not his family's name or trust funds, but it still surprises her to see it. 

It's strange to Rey how adamant Ben is to make something of himself without help from his family. Especially with how close he is to his parents. Since she doesn't have a family to rely on or ask for help, Rey isn't sure what she would do in his shoes either.

She likes that about Ben though. That even though he has the means to call in favors and to have things handed to him, he wants to earn it. 

She knocks on the door, pulling down on the hem of the pale yellow sundress that she picked out for Leia's party and adjusting the strap of the larger bag on her shoulder. She's hoping Ben won't mind if she leaves the bag here so she can change before they go to Kaydel's engagement party. 

The door opens and Rey doesn't recognize the man standing in front of her. It must be Poe. Ben's told her a little bit about his roommate and Rey has been a little nervous to meet him. 

"You must be Rey," he says with a big smile, stepping back so Rey can walk inside. "I'm Poe."

"It's nice to meet you," Rey says, returning his smile. Her nerves start to settle when Poe closes the door and leads her over to the living room.

"Ben has told me almost nothing about you," Poe admits as he sits down on the chair across from the couch. "But he's been happier than I've seen him in a really long time these past couple of weeks. I have a feeling you have quite a bit to do with that."

Rey blushes, dropping her gaze down to the coffee table. "I mean, it could have to do with the fact that my plan worked and our bosses haven't been up our asses every second of the day too."

"Nah," Poe brushes off her comment. "Ben is addicted to his work. Whether or not he likes to admit it. The good mood has definitely got to be because of you."

"I'll take your word for it." Rey gives Poe a tight smile in concession. "How long have you known Ben?"

"Practically our entire lives. Our parents were friends. We grew up together. Went to college together. We've basically never really been apart."

"So, you're who I need to talk to to get all the good embarrassing childhood stories."

Poe laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he tips his head back. "Oh I've got plenty of those, but Leia tells them the best. She's going to have the time of her life talking to you today."

Rey takes a sharp breath when Poe says Leia's name. The nerves that had been calming down flaring back to life in her stomach.

"I'm a little nervous." Rey bites down on her bottom lip. "To meet her. And Han. And you, actually. I've never really done the meet the friends and the family of someone that I…" 

Rey lets her sentence trail off, unsure of how to phrase how she feels about Ben. Poe gives her an understanding look, and leans forward to rest his hand on top of hers.

"They are going to love you," he says and it sounds like a promise. "I already love you. You have nothing to worry about. And if you start to feel nervous, just come find me. I'm bringing my boyfriend, Finn, today to meet everyone too. So, you're not the only one that's a little bit nervous."

Rey gives him a grateful smile. "Where is Ben anyway?"

"Showering," Poe answers. "He should be done soon."

"So, what do you do?"

"I'm an art teacher." Poe practically beams with his answer. "I work mostly with middle schoolers. I'm a float teacher, so I don't work at just one school. Which honestly is kind of great. I love getting to work with so many different students."

"That sounds wonderful."

"What about you? I mean, I know you're an assistant now, but what's the end goal?"

"I want to write articles," Rey gives a small shrug. "I was hoping to use some of this extra time lately to write, but I've been a little busy between my friend's engagement and well…"

Rey gets flustered as she thinks of all of the time she's been spending with Ben lately. 

Poe's grin grows wider and Rey knows that he has figured it out.

The door behind Rey opens and she turns around to find Ben walking out of what she assumes is his bedroom. 

It's the most dressed down she's ever seen Ben. Ben looks amazing in a suit, but there's something about the way the dark blue jeans fit to his body that is grossly unfair. The light blue, short sleeved button down shirt he is wearing looks stretched across his chest. He's holding wrapping paper in one hand and a book in the other.

"Hey," Ben says and there's that small smile he seems to reserve for her crossing his face. "You're here early."

Ben walks toward Rey, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Rey can see Poe's eyes widen slightly out of the corner of her vision. Ben straightens and heads into the kitchen.

"No suit today?" Rey teases as she watches Ben move around the kitchen. "Are you feeling a little ill?"

Poe snickers before joining in. "I mean I know your mom said the party was going to be casual, but are you sure showing off that much arm isn't just a little too casual?"

"I can go change," Ben deadpans, glaring at Poe, but there’s no heat in his gaze. "I have a nice three piece suit that I look fantastic in."

"Does it also have short sleeves?" Rey asks, tilting her head to the side. "Cause really it's a crime that you cover up those arms every day."

"I've been trying to tell him that for years," Poe adds, standing from the chair and moving to sit next to Rey on the couch. He leans his head onto her shoulder. "You should see him in shorts. Those thighs."

Ben looks like he's in pain, standing at the kitchen counter trying to wrap Leia's present. "You two are not allowed to be friends. I thought this was decided."

"I didn’t agree to that," Rey grins, looking sideways at Poe. "Did you agree to that?"

"I made a life vow when I was 6 to never agree with Ben Solo." 

Rey laughs as she watches Ben roll his eyes. 

"This is going to be such a long day." Ben sighs, placing the final piece of tape on the present. "Shall we go? Or are we waiting for Finn to meet us here."

Poe stands up, holding his hand out for Rey and helping her up from the couch. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind stopping by his place and picking him up. It’s on the way out of the city."

"I don't mind," Ben says a smirk on his face as he holds the door open for Poe and Rey. "I'm looking forward to meeting your boyfriend. I'm going to need someone on my side today."

Poe heads down the stairs, but Rey lingers behind waiting for Ben to finish locking the door. She reaches for his hand once he's done. 

"I'm on your side," Rey says quietly, enjoying the way Ben's face softens at her words. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to egg your mom on if she starts pulling out baby pictures or good stories."

Ben shakes his head in amusement. "Just remember that I'm going to meet Kaydel and Rose tonight and I'm sure they've got some great stories about you."

Ben kisses her then, and it is short and sweet and just familiar enough to make Rey ache and want more. 

"C'mon," Ben tugs on her hand. "We don't want to be late."

[kayliemusing]

37

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself? - I think a few hours ago lol

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know? - how does it everything work out in the end

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life? - i don't really have one yet

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise? - When I was 8, my family and I were driving home from the christmas eve service. It was snowing big fluffy snowflakes and i was in a sparkly dress in the backseat. rascal flatts was playing 'god bless the broken road' on the radio and we were all sitting in this really nice content silence.

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? - I think I'd try to do more, go out more, experience more, write more.

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things? - Write a novel(s) / write successful novels - Fall in love - finally go to a taylor swift concert lol

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail. - My mom is someone I super close to. She has these vibrant blue eyes that literally carry an ocean of good things. She has a warm soul and she always uses her energy to lift other people up or just to hold their hand when life is rocky.

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood? - Yes

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person? - I don't remember. A while ago I think. Maybe like last september-ish and I only remember that because my job did a really not cool thing to me and I cried when I told my mom and then cried when I told my best friend lol

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them. - My mom because we could talk about life while stargazing.

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them? - maybe. if i felt super comfortable with them and it was the right time for it, then probably.

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you? - I don't know, actually. Probably not since high school or roughly around then bc i'm always asleep by 10 pm lol. it was probably with one of my friends.

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom? - I'd probably tell my mom thank you for everything she's done and had to sacrifice for me/our family, and i'd tell her i loved her.

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes? - Beautiful! Bright! Lovely! God tier! Wow!

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally. - "I couldn't get the boy to kill me but I wore his jacket for the longest time" by Richard Siken. First of all, this quote makes me like !!!!! just exclamation marks!!!! I think I just love the poetry and the subtext in this quote, because it's kind of like being haunted by this boy was in itself its own kind of death. So like yeah you didn't kill me, but you haunt me instead.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far? - What The Hell Is This: a memoir by me

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars? - Buy a house and move to a different city, invest a lot of it, buy a car, buy another cat, send money to charity, quit my job.

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way? - I'm a forgiving person when I feel like someone is worth forgiving, which I kind of don't like about myself because I don't know if that's necessarily the right thing. I don't like that I feel like people have to earn forgiveness, but if I'm hurt by someone or someone has hurt someone I love, I tend to hold grudges and I will especially hold grudges if the hurt or offense is never addressed. But if someone were to apologize and I felt like they were sincere and they gave me a good explanation for the actions, I'm definitely forgiving then.

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self. - n/a

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel? - pastel

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain. - I don't mind some tattoos and piercings, but I don't like tons of piercings and I definitely don't like tattoo sleeves or anything like that lol. You do you, but I could never lol.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not? - Generally, yeah. It depends on my mood that day. Sometimes I'll wear a full face, other times I'll do bare minimum or nothing at all. Makeup makes me feel nice and it can really make your features pop.

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way. - Taylor Swift baby. Taylor has been such an inspiration to me as a writer and a human being. I think she sees the world very vividly and very romantically, and I love that about her. I love that she's kind-natured, even when the world tries to put a masochistic spin on her, she's simply just good. I love her honestly and vulnerability in her story-telling, and I love the work-ethic and careful creativity that's in her work. On a more personal note, her music feels like contentment and joy, and sometimes nostalgia. I started listening to her music in the fifth/sixth grade but I remember when Speak Now came out and at that time I was starting to get into writing and I could really see that she was a writer too so I clung to her, and then Red was released while my dad was fighting cancer and that album was just something I really pressed into as a means of comfort and escape and I'm so glad that I had her music lean on.

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them. - *mind goes blank*

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel. - I haven't actually been to a concert that's really impacted me meaningfully because I've never gone to anyone I legitimately wanted to see lol. When I was 10, I went to a Jonas Brothers concert with my sister who was a bigger fan of them than I was and I do remember it being a good time. Then when I was 15, my best friend took me to marianas trench because our other friend baled so she had a spare ticket. It was a really good show and it actually made me get into their music more than I had been before which was awesome.

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say? - I would love it if taylor swift wrote me a letter and I honestly wouldn't care what she wrote in it as long as it was something nice lol

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised? - I used to have a work space in my room but I moved the desk upstairs to our office. Now I just write in my room and that for me looks like a made up bed, a nightstand with a candle, and a vanilla-scented lamp to create a warm cozy atmosphere.

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine? - I usually write in the evening and then maybe I'll watch youtube or I'll listen to music or scroll through tiktok lol. Then I put on my pj's, skincare routine, brush teeth, and I go to bed (where I end up reading for half the night but whatevs)

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know? - I'm pretty open with my mom so I don't think there's anything she doesn't know about me lol.

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why? - I wouldn't mind dying my tips pink or blue just because I think that's a universally cute look. As for styling it, probably what I do now, maybe curl it a little more.

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do? - I don't think I even know five people (that i'm close to) yikes

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them. - I wish for success, because I always feel like a failure or inadequate in someway - I wish to fall in love, because I'd like to know it at least once - I wish to be able to write again in a way that makes me happy, because I feel like I keep disappointing myself and I just want that creative freedom again

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up. - I've never done anything super creative lol but one year I dressed like a bumble bee and I loved that costume because it was a little frilly dress with wings.

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high? - fun fact I've never been drunk or high

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars? - Anything that involves killing or spiders

storms: you can only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why? - All too well by taylor swift baby

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love. - I have not fallen in love before but I imagine it feels like contentment and coming home.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair? - I wouldn't do really short hair, but my favourite hair cuts on me was a short bob.

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone? - Just your standard white hot chocolate, and i'd trust anyone to order it for me bc it's not that difficult lol

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now? - My writing / my career I think

[irtza]

Snowflake | Jeon Jungkook

genres: fluff, drabble, boyfriend! au

word count: 1.3k

"Get up!" A squeal erupted from Jungkook's mouth as he was forcefully pulled of the bed, tumbling off the edge straight into the carpeted floor, tangled in the warm, dusty blankets you'd foraged through the top of your closet for now that winter was beginning to arrive.

"Why would you do that?" While he had hoped his voice would come out threatening and angry, the words came out like a long, drawn out whine.

Your figure, triple its normal size because you'd hidden yourself underneath several layers and a thick padded coat, loomed over him with a dazzling smile nearly splitting your face in half, and he groaned when he saw the twinkle in your eyes and the thick boots you had on.

"It's snowing, isn't it?" He buried his face in his blankets, voice muffled.

"Yes, and you're going to come help me build a snowman!" You said cheerfully, hands circling his waist as you attempted to haul him up.

He now regretted letting you go to the gym with him - for someone practically half his height, you were surprisingly strong.

"I don't want to," Jungkook shook his head as he attempted to scramble out of the death grip you had around him, staring mournfully at the empty bed.

"Kook!" You were pouting, and he knew that, he knew he shouldn't turn to look at you otherwise he would cave, but he did it anyways. Your eyes were wide and your chapped lips were curved downwards, lower one jutting out ever slow slightly, and your hands were clutching at the sleeves of his loose grey sweater. He almost cooed at the sight, opting for bending down and pressing a swift kiss to your forehead.

"Do I really have to?" He asked, nudging his nose against yours. "You're the only snowflake I want to see, you're far prettier than all others."

Much to his dismay, you pulled away with a breathy laugh, but he was satisfied when he noticed your cheeks turning red. Even after dating for three long years, you were still shy with displays of affection, and it made his heart do this weird thing in his chest. Namjoon had told him he was probably going to die, but Jimin had shot the older a nasty look and told him reassuringly it was just love, which sounded way nicer.

"Come on, it doesn't snow often," You whined, tugging at his shirt, dragging him to the bathroom.

"Brush your teeth, I'll get your coat." You instructed, and he groaned, complying. Warm water threaded through his fingers as he ran the tap, and within minutes, he found himself padding through the house grumpily, gloved hands stuffed in his pockets as your smaller frame happily unlocked the front door.

"Lucky you," He eyed the sleeping puppy, Coffee, who was curled up in a bundle of old sweaters and clothing you'd found to decorate her bedding. She looked endearing, a small ball of mahogany and obsidian fur in the midst of bright pink and pastel lilac fabric, and he would've given anything to trade places with her.

The puppy looked up at him, panting slightly. She almost looked like she was laughing at his plight, and he scowled at her, fingers gently scratching her head. "You're lucky I love you." He muttered.

"Kook!" You called over your shoulder, and he sighed. "And you're lucky I love you too." He grumbled in your direction, making you giggle as you ran out.

Now, Jungkook and you agreed on a lot. You both liked cuddles, chill nights in, dogs, had similar taste in music (except when you listened to Euphoria on repeat, he got sick of his own voice eventually), the list went on.

Whatever you differed in were things you both could find a quick compromise to, like clothes and food.

Seasons, however, were different. Jungkook hated the cold. He preferred summer, when the sun was out and the heat was stifling even in the night, but the humidity was welcomed. He could wander around with the bare minimum amount of clothing (and so would you, but that was totally not why he liked summer).

Workouts were more satisfying, cold drinks to soothe his throat were a regular, and he would actually want to get out of bed.

You, on the other hand, loved winter, for some absurd reason. You loved bundling up and drinking hot cocoa while watching movies, you loved sitting by the window sill and watch the thin layer of frost form on the glass, you loved fitting yourself right into your boyfriend's arms because he gave the warmest hugs, you absolutely loved running around and playing in the snow.

Ever since the two of you had begun dating, you'd managed to get Jungkook out to witness the first snow of the year, a wide smile on your lips and a fading frown on his, but it was always worth it.

He stepped out, shaking the long locks that were becoming a tad bit overgrown, and his lips automatically curved into a smile.

There you were, standing in the driveway with your arms spread and your flushed face turned to the sky, as icy winds kissed your cheeks and caressed your hair. Snowflakes swirled around you as you ran around, leaving your footprints behind, giggling like a child as your gloved hands scooped up the snow.

You turned around and attempted to hurl the snowball at him, the snowball hurtling through the air, breaking apart before it could even reach him.

He snickered at the failed attempt, reaching down to gather a bit of the white expanse in his own hands, eyes narrowing as he made his way towards you.

You squealed and attempted to run away, slipping a little over the ice. His heart jumped in his throat, calming down when he saw you steady yourself, snorting when you turned and stuck your tongue out at him.

His aim didn't fall short when you turned away, the snowball hitting your back. "Jungkook!" You gasped, whirling around with your eyes gleaming as you hastily made yourself small balls of ammunition.

Jungkook laughed as you faced towards him, a surge of affection rushing through him when you slipped and dropped your snowballs, crashing straight into his waiting arms.

He looked down at you fondly, ears red and lips turned down in a pout as you stared sadly at the broken mess you'd worked so hard to make. "It's okay," He smiled, "You can make more."

"And I'll beat you up with them." You said grumpily, turning your nose up as you scowled lightly at him. "I thought we were supposed to build a snowman?" He quirked an eyebrow, and your eyes lit up at the reminder. "Oh, yeah!" You gasped, attempted to squirm out of his grip.

Jungkook chuckled, watching as the smallest snowflake fluttered through the air in an elegant twirl, landing right at the tip of your nose, causing you to still as you went cross-eyed trying to look at it.

He swooped down, pressing his lips lightly against your nose, feeling the tiny crystals of ice melt against his lips, heat surging through your face, and when he pulled away, you were as red as the Christmas ornaments you had bought in advance.

"I'm, uh, going to find some sticks," You stumbled back, eyes darting around, and all Jungkook could was laugh, watching as you stopped down, hands grazing over the snow over.

If it was for you, he smiled as he watched your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you carried out your task, turning to him in choosing which sticks were best for the arms.

If it was for you, he could learn to love anything, even winter.

[creampuffqueen]

Fanfic Advent Calendar- Day 4

Beware- I have not read Queen of Nothing! No spoilers please! Also, I have never written anything Jurdan ever, so like yesterday’s, you may want to take this one with a grain of salt, just in case is sucks. And on that positive note, enjoy!

~~~~

Sleigh Ride (Jurdan)

“Vivi! Jude! Look what I made at school!” Oak squeals as he leaps into Vivienne’s car. I’m in the passenger seat, fluffy blanket draped over my lap. It’s so cold in the human realm, colder than I ever remember Faerie being. 

Oak’s school lets out for winter break today, and Vivi has already promised him a milkshake on the way home. She spoils him, my sister does. I can’t fathom why he would want a milkshake when it’s near freezing outside. 

Vivi drives away, nodding to whatever Oak is chattering about, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to the tune of whatever song is playing. I clench the blanket tighter in my hands.

It’s been months since I was banished from Faerie, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of anyone since then. The only faeries I’ve seen have been my sister and brother. Not even Taryn has tried to contact me. 

We pull into the drive-thru of a fast food chain, and I shake my head when Vivi offers to buy me something. She shrugs and gets a second milkshake for herself.

The whole town is blanketed in snow and lights, houses covered from top to bottom in both. Oak talks and talks and talks, only taking a break to slurp his shake. He’s come out of his shell so much since coming to live with Vivi. Despite all my regrets and bad decisions, this has worked exactly as I intended.

We make it to the apartment, with the twinkling tree in the window. Oak swings between Vivi and I, milkshake abandoned in the car. With the glamour on his antlers and ears, he looks just like any other seven-year-old boy. 

Vivi turns on the TV for him and sways over to the kitchen, humming something under her breath. She turns on the music again, adding to the chaoticness of the place.

Every available surface is covered in decor, white and red and green exploding across the apartment. Garlands, tinsel, figurines, you name it. Oak and Vivi revel in it all, while all it does is make me want to close my eyes.

Months. Months, since I left. Taryn hasn’t looked for me. The Roach and The Bomb haven’t searched. And Cardan…

He hasn’t sent so much as a dandelion puff my way. 

I’m sure Vivi knows what’s wrong, but she hasn’t mentioned it. At least she isn’t treating me like I’m broken, a treatment I’ve become all too familiar with. 

Snow starts falling outside, and Oak begs to go and play in it. Vivi, in the kitchen fixing dinner, tells me to take him.

“And make sure he keeps his hat on!” She calls after us, bundled in our coats and scarves and gloves. Oak snickers and pulls his cap further down on his face.

My little brother sprints through the snow happily, pausing every now and then to stick his tongue out for snowflakes. The sky gets dark, and I manage to wrangle him back inside. 

“Did you two have fun?” Vivi is gentle with him, taking his hat off and pinching his rosy cheeks. Oak shucks off his clothes as he goes to the living room, until he’s only in his thermals. 

Vivi has started a fire, and we watch old Christmas movies that trigger my own memories of the human realm. We drink hot chocolate. A neighbor brings over a batch of cookies. 

I should be enjoying myself. I should be laughing with my siblings. I should be smiling. But all I am is going through the motions, the bare minimum, letting myself sink further and further in my own feelings. 

Some High Queen of Faerie. 

“We should go on a sleigh ride.” Oak declares. “And we should ride it through the streets all the way to the McDonalds with the cool play place.”

At that, even I laugh. Vivi grins, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. She’s got an idea.

Sure enough, she stands up, still smiling mischievously. “Everyone get their coats on! I’m going to get us a sleigh!”

Oak and I gather our things, and I wonder how on earth Vivi will manage this. Oak is practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. 

When I step outside, I do have to give her credit. In the street is a sleigh, a perfect rendition of the one we just saw on TV. 

Oak scrambles inside it, smiling and cheering the whole time. Vivi ruffles his hair and helps me up.

There is a horse pulling the sleigh, and Oak reaches out to pet it. Vivi smirks to herself, and I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Our car and a slightly unlucky pidgeon.” She finally says, quiet so Oak can’t hear. I roll my eyes, and Vivi whistles to get the horse moving.

Down the streets we go, the giddy smile never leaving Oak’s face. Snow is falling around us, flurries swirling across the road and piling against the curb. 

If people see us, they don’t look surprised. Maybe Vivi is glamouring everyone. Maybe they are just used to horse drawn sleighs in the streets. Or maybe, they simply don’t care.

I find myself enjoying this. I haven’t enjoyed something in so long. Here, with my sister and my brother, I can forget, for just a moment. I can forget that Faerie even exists. 

But a moment later it all comes rushing back. Taryn. Madoc. Locke. And Cardan, Cardan, Cardan. I miss him.

We reach the McDonalds, and Vivi helps Oak down and inside. I stay, letting the snowflakes catch on all my clothes. 

This is magical, I think. I want to go home. 

Home is not here, even if I wanted it to be. It’s not a glamoured car and bird, it’s not sugary cereal and tinsel. Home is where I wake up to crow-black hair and a purr in my ear.

Cardan, Cardan, Cardan. I wish he was here. I wish I was there. I don’t know what I want besides him. My longing is deep, and sharp, and suddenly it feels like every passerby could be him in disguise. 

I see Oak waving in the window of the McDonalds playspace, and I give a half-hearted wave back. He grins, and then something catches his attention. He starts to wave again, and I turn to see what he’s up to.

My breath catches. I can’t breathe.

Cardan Cardan Cardan Cardan Cardan Cardan. 

He’s here. He’s standing right in front of me, silky locks tousled and crusted with snow. He’s smirking that stupid smirk, and I’m not sure if I want to slap or kiss it off.

I settle for kiss. I run towards him, nearly slipping on the ice. Strong arms pull me upright, and I’m staring into his green eyes like my life depends on it.

“You came.” I murmur, so softly I can hardly hear it myself. But Cardan nods regardless, and pulls me into his warmth.

I’m not sure when I start kissing him. I’m not sure I ever truly stopped. But his hands are on my back and mine in his hair, ruffling the snow from it. Cardan lifts me up, delicate fingers tickling under my ribs, but I don’t mind because he came.

He breaks away first, and I grin at finding him breathless, one word on his lips.

“Jude.”

“Cardan.”

“My lovely, sinful Jude. My High Queen of Elfhame.”

“My darling, spiteful Cardan. My royal husband.”

“Kiss me again, Jude.”

I am only too happy to oblige him.