#the sun roofs (or are they just lights?) really get me lmao

[aardvaark]

i don’t mind suspending my disbelief for leverage’s person-sized ventilation shafts bc that’s pretty standard for the genre, but that doesn’t mean i won’t laugh a bit at some of the egregiously large vents. particularly in the crowning acheivement job (lev: red s2 finale) because - well just look at this lol! harry and parker, two adults, can kneel side by side in those vents. parker can sit upright.

that museum was made for vent crawling purposes. that’s just an extra room in the museum they forgot to decorate. the leverageverse has a thief union that successfully lobbied for a better working environment. these vents double as a playground for museum-goers’ children. i was crying with laughter thinking about this and harry’s vent crisis was NOT helping me remember that there was a serious heist thing going on lol, i love this show.

[mimasroom2]

Hot tub time ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Ellie x reader modern au/slice of life

I have a hot tub but we need to get it fixed. I’m literally so eager so I wrote this LMAO. I LOVE SLICE OF LIFE ELLIE X READER SM!! Expect a bunch more, I have so many ideas written down😚 Im so sappy grrrr,,, I already wrote kinky ass sex so here’s soft sex for u guys😋

C/w: smut lol. Ellie + reader have their own house YAHOO! A bit of fluff in this one >•<. Au but Joel is still dead 😞. He’s mentioned like once. Cunnilingus😝 (r! Receiving) I feel so awkward using y/n like seriously and unironically ahhhh.

W/c: 2.4k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

“I’m actually so fucking bored I’m gonna gouge my eyes out.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. Ellie is always so damn dramatic. You glance over and she’s pretending to pull her hair out, large fistfuls in each hand.

You playfully shove her, “Okay, shut up Ellie.” And you both laugh. It was winter, and she was right… sadly. There was nothing to do during this time of year. Well, besides stay in and cuddle. The only problem was.. you’ve already done that. You two were both off work for the holidays, and you’ve already spent the wholeeeee vacation laying in bed together, so you guessed that Ellie wanted to do something a little more active.

“Wanna play Mario kart? I think the switch is in the bedroom.” You try suggesting, absentmindedly rubbing her leg.

“Nah,” she stretches her arms out on the couch, “Somethin’ more like physical yknow. Gotta keep these pretty muscles toned.” She winks at you, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re actually such a gym rat, you should just live there at this point.” You smirk to yourself, examining your nails.

“Maybe if I did I wouldn’t constantly trip on all the shit you leave around here.” Ellie remarks back, lightly kicking you on the knee.

“Hey, I keep it pretty clean considering we both share a room, thank you very much.” You cross your arms and huff.

Ellie gasps and starts kicking you more, so you yelp and start shoving her away. Suddenly she stops, holding out both her hands. “Holy fuck, babe. Yknow what I forgot about?”

“Huh.”

“Hot tub.”

You sit up at lighting speed, “OH DAMN YOURE RIGHT!” You actually can’t believe you forgot about that thing. You try to remember the last time you even used it.. must have been last summer. The hot tub was one of things that you’re OBSESSED with at first, but then you use it one too many times and you forget about it for a couple months. And then the cycle continues.

Ellie leaps off the couch and bolts down the hall. “GET YOUR SWIMSUIT ON WE ARE GOING IN!!”

~

You come outside and see Ellie lifting up the top of the hot tub. The whole things underneath a roof outside, so there’s not much snow in the porch where you two are standing, but it’s still really cold. You look up at the sky. The sun is starting to set, it’s been a little over an hour since you two had dinner. Delicious deer soup that Ellie made from when she went hunting a couple days ago. You always said that if Ellie was stuck in a post apocalyptic world, she would survive.

You suddenly remember the cold air hitting you, breaking you out of your thoughts of your girlfriend. You shiver, and pull the robe you’re wearing tighter around your body. You glance over at Ellie still messing with the top of the hot tub. All Ellie’s wearing is her classic swimsuit: plain black top and swim shorts. Her tattoo flexes as she finally pops the top off and turns the hot tub on.

You jump up and down in your slippers, trying to move to stay warm. “Ellieeee how much longer?”

She reaches down into the water and starts poking around at the buttons and jets. “Hold your horses, y/n, I gotta check all the filters n shit. Haven’t used this in a hot minute.”

“Mmmm I know but it’s cold.” You groan in protest. You know damn well you’re being a brat, but you swear you’re not built for any weather too hot or too cold.

“Well you wanna shut up and help me? Make it go by faster..” She looks up at you and you shake your head vigorously. “Yeah thas’ what I thought.” She smirks at you.

After what felt like foreverrrrr in the cold, Ellie turns the jets on and says you can hop in. There’s steam coming off the water as it hits the cold air. You can barley wait, you’re hyping the hot tub up in your mind. It’s something that feels like a luxury to you. The only thing that can make you stop thinking about your precious hot tub is your precious Ellie. You look up at her and get butterflies, even though you two have been dating for about 2 years now. She looks soooo beautiful, just standing there, folding up the tarp from the tub. You shake your head, thinking it’s so damn stupid to be drooling over your girlfriend who’s literally just standing there, doing the most mundane possible thing.

Some snow falls on top of your head so you brush it off. It’s getting too cold for you. You lick your lips, turning around to shed your rob, you’re still slightly shy undressing in front of Ellie, even though you’re still in a swimsuit. You hang your cute pink robe up on the hook where the towels you brought out are.

Turning back around to head into the tub, you see Ellie with her back towards you, messing around with the water guns from last summer. You check her out unapologetically, looking at her ass before you snap into reality again and take your slippers off to step into the hot tub. The hot water feels like it burns your skin, compared to the cold winter air. You take a couple minutes slowly sliding more of your body deeper into the water.

Ellie turns around, with one water gun still in her hand. “Feel alright, babe? Not too hot?”

You sink in deeper, up to your neck, “Mm feels good.” And then rise up again slowly, “Come in, Els. I’m gettin’ bored in here.”

“Oh yeah?” She closes one eye and lifts up the gun, suddenly shooting a short stream of cold ass water at you. “Not so bored now, huh?” She laughs and walks closer to you.

Your jaw drops and you scream when the water hits you, “ELLIEEEEE WHAT THE FUCKKKK!”

“What?” She fakes a pout, lowering the water gun. “I told you I gotta keep these muscles in good shape, right?”

Before you can retort, she’s already getting in the hot tub. “God, shove over. I’m freezing.” She accidentally splashes you as she’s hastily getting in.

“Ellieeeee! Don’t splash me! >~<“ you whine, but she just laughs, and this time splashes you on purpose. You sigh dramatically at all her antics.

She doesn’t reply, and just sinks in deeper, and you take no shame in watching her stretch her body out. Ellie groans slightly at the hot water enveloping her body. You sigh and blink at her, watching her eyebrows furrow. She slowly leans her head back against the headrest of the hot tub. You swear she’s egging you on, because she moans softly, giving you the perfect view of her neck, which she knows is your favorite place to kiss her. Suddenly, Ellie opens her eyes and says something that breaks you out of the trance you’ve had all day, “You keep lookin’ at me. What’s goin’ on?”

You let yourself float away from her in the water ever so slightly, “Nothing. I’m not looking at you.”

“Yknow I can like,,, feel your eyes burning into my back whenever you stare at me.”

You cover your face with your hands and

face away from her. She laughs to herself. She finds it so cute you still get flustered around her even after all this time you’ve been together.

“That’s too bad because I’m reallyyyy not looking at you.”

Instead of a snarky remark back, Ellie’s abnormally silent. You slowly bring your hands down to face her again, and she’s just looking at you with this look in her eyes. You think it’s somewhere in between concern and contemplation. “You trust me, right?” She says softly, after a few moments. You’re surprised, this is probably the quietest Ellie’s ever been with you.

“Of course I do. What’s wrong, Ellie?” Her tone is completely different than what you’re used to. This only happens on the rare occasion you guys have a disagreement. Or when you talk about something serious.

“Jus’ don’t want you thinking I’m gonna leave you.” She says, almost ashamed. She’s fidgeting with her fingers like how she always does, and avoiding your gaze.

You laugh softly. “Were you….. going to?” You can feel your heart rate speeding up.

Ellie’s eyes widen, “No. no no no.” She sighs, slowly, taking a few moments to collect her thoughts. “I get scared thinking about the future.” She mutters.

You look up at her. You knew Ellie gets scared. Of course she does. When she told you about Joel dying on what, your second date, you knew she’s not as… sturdy.. as she pretends to be sometimes. But that was in the past, and to hear Ellie admit she is worried about her own life ahead of her.. honestly made you surprised.

“Like.. I just want you to know that I’m always gonna be here for you.” She looks so concerned, like she might cry if you guys talk about this for any longer. She’s still looking down, trying to make herself smaller.

“Oh, Ellie.” You raise your hand up and softly tilt her chin to look at you. “I know. Okay? And nothing bad is gonna happen to you. Or me. Or us.”

She looks into your eyes for a second, before she gently tucks your hair behind your ear, leans in, and kisses you.

The kiss is as soft as she’s been talking - all emotion and thought as her lips move slowly against yours. She puts her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. You sigh into the kiss. She was so tender with you right now. You were so used to fervent and desperate make out sessions with her. Not that that was bad, at all, but you didn’t realize how nice of a change this was until it was happening. You grab her waist, pulling her in closer to you. All of her is so soft and warm against you: her lips, tattooed arm, thighs.. and not just because you two were in the hot tub.

She pulls away to look at you, and you want to melt from the look on her face. She looks like she’s actually in heaven.

“I really love you.”

You smile softly at her, tracing over her tattoo lightly with your finger. “I love you too.” You pull her back into a kiss. After a couple more minutes, she’s more intent with her movements, like how she usually is. She’s not afraid to run her hands over your thighs and squeeze you nipple under your swimsuit.

You gasp at the sudden contact, and moan a little into her mouth.

She pulls away, “Cmon, baby. Need more of that.” and kisses you again, almost immediately licking your bottom lip, asking for entrance. She’s not as soft anymore, back to her usual self wanting to make you moan in pleasure as she works your body. You don’t even try fighting for dominance, just letting her tongue dance around yours as she pleases.

“Ellie…” is all you have to say, and she understands, shifting her position to let you have more of her. You want to press yourself down onto her, and please you both at the same time. You lift your legs up, trying to hook them around her, but you start floating away in the water. You’re not even going fast, it’s so comical how slow the jets are pushing you. You snort and reach out to grab Ellie’s hand.

“Ohmygod!” Ellie starts laughing and she grabs your hand, “Can’t exactly scissor in the water, I guess.” You blush and scoff at how forward she can be.

“Cmere. Let’s get ya propped up.”

You untie the knots on you bikini bottoms to take them off, tossing them somewhere you’ll pick up later. She grabs your hand and gently guides you to sit on the edge of the hot tub, on one of the corners so you don’t lean back and fall off. She brings your arm down to her face, and kisses you on the back of the hand. You smile and giggle. You swear you feel like a little girl again. You’re a princess and Ellie is your prince. You glance up at the sky - the sun is setting. An array of orange and pinks.

Ellie’s below you, turning down the jets of the tub a little, and getting into her favorite position: right between your thighs. You really couldn’t ask for a more perfect fantasy if you tried.

“This okay?” She asks, lightly rubbing your thigh with her thumb.

“Yes,” you breathe out, “please, Ellie.”

From where she is, you’re practically a goddess towering above her. You feel powerful and confident, and fucking desperate, wanting Ellie to just devour you already.

Ellie only hums in response before kissing your clit. You gasp sharply, you swear no matter how many times she eats you out you could never get used to the heavenly feeling. Her tongue starts lapping you up, and you moan loudly. You silently thank the neighbors for never being outside late during the winter, and that the hot tub is reasonably private, so no one can see you.

Maybe it’s just the cold frigid night air in comparison to Ellie’s warm, wet mouth, but you swear this is some of the best head she’s ever given you. Ellie never stopped licking and kissing at your clit - eventually she didn’t know if you were shaking from the sex or shivering because of the cold, but either way, she could tell from the volume of your moans that you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Mmmmmm- gonna cum soon..”

Ellie just nods, her face still buried into you. You can feel her cute little nose bumping up against you, and both her hands are up on your knees, spreading your thighs open for her.

She knows you’re close when you start whimpering and gasping for air.

“Ohmygod ohmygod Ellie,, fuck- you’re gonna make me cum..”

As soon as you warn her you’re throwing your head back, and your hips snap up as your orgasm takes over you. She keeps licking you clean until your breathing slows and you let yourself sink back down into the hot water.

You can’t even think of anything to say, so you grab Ellie’s arm and wrap it around you, as a way to ask her to cuddle you.

“Always such a cuddle bug after you cum..” Ellie mutters, mostly to herself, as she rests her head on yours.

You just chuckle and look up into the sky as the sun finally sets. You sigh in and out the cold winter air. Ellie kisses the top of your head, whispering one more ‘I love you’ as she pulls you closer into her arms.

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[momodita]

snapshots. [—hirako shinji]

TAGS / WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, comfort,       reader does not like aizen (lmao), light angst WC: 1,000 NOTE: shinji u are everything to me...

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

“Somethin’ interesting up there?”

It is not an insignificant thing for another division’s captain to invite another squad’s subordinate to their quarters. But Shinji was never one for convention and has even less love for etiquette.

“Say, don’t you think it’s time to change out the tatami?” you ask instead of acknowledging his question.

Your back is to him, crouched in a corner of the room—staring at the ceiling. He was penning some kind of letter to Hiyori up until a couple minutes ago, humming to himself every few brush strokes; probably imagining her reactions to the stupid jokes he’s undoubtedly including.

“The time to spring clean has long since passed, ya know,” he drawls. Your head bends. Index finger scratching at a frayed edge, coaxing out the light click and snap of it. Loud in the oppressive quiet of midnight.

“When was the last time these were replaced?” you ask. “They're all discolored and patchy. And look—it’s coming apart.” You flick up a broken thread.

“Don’t pull it apart!” Shinji’s protest falls on deaf ears.

“I bet there’s a bunch of dirt trapped under here, too. I’ve never seen you clean it once.”

“Aizen probably had it done when he was captain.” Shinji waves a hand.

Your lips purse. You pierce a fingernail into the woven mat, testing its durability. There’s no doubt Aizen Sousuke had indeed done some upkeep of this room. You’d once walked by while looking for Hinamori and had taken it upon yourself to peek in—just to see.

Aizen was out working, of course. But his presence was unmistakable in the neatly arranged bookshelves, the futon he kept plump and folded, the desk, the tea set. All of it so neat. Sterile. It was like Shinji had never even lived there at all.

“Well, now you can get it replaced to celebrate your reinstatement,” you say, trying to sound casual around the plucking snap of another ripping thread. “They get musty during the summer.”

“Are ya sayin’ I stink?” he lilts. “There’s better things for us to do than fuss over the floors.” He tosses a crumpled piece of paper at you. It bounces off your shoulder. “And stop wreckin’ the tatami—I really will have to get them replaced.”

“Captain Kuchiki has someone do his—I hear they’re good. Efficient. He probably wouldn’t mind passing their name along—y’could have it done in like, three days tops.”

A pause. Then, Shinji sighs. His footsteps are soft and rhythmic as he crosses the room to slide the shoji doors open. A chill crawls inside. You shiver as it caresses up your uniform.

The Seireitei is at its best under moonlight, when the barracks are quiet and the only chatter is from the cicadas.

But Shinji, at least, is suited for its warm afternoons, when the sun is at its highest and it brings out the color of his hair.

(This insight strikes a familiar memory you keep of him: decades ago, before his disappearance, you would catch him under cloudless summer skies, lounging on the roofs. Perched for friendly, passing small talk; or perhaps to strike one of Hiyori’s many easy nerves. He’d tilt his head to talk to you and the light would catch that sheet of hair, illuminating it into golden strands.

And you, caught by the tempting shape of his profile, would always be coaxed to join. Sitting less than a sword’s length apart, he’d no idea of the longing brewing in your chest—so potent it knocked against each of your ribs.

When you spoke, you wondered if he saw it pouring out of your mouth in vapors like you did; if he was keen enough to spot the lift of your cheeks as you smiled away from him.)

“Something’s on yer mind,” he says, taking a seat beside you. “Don’t even think of hidin’ it from me, either. Got it?”

Much has changed since his disappearance. Not all of it good. You weigh the truth against a white lie. Then settle for something in between.

“Nothing really,” you mumble, drawing your arms across your chest. An absence of birdsong makes you that much more aware of your breath. “Just thinking ahead.”

“Will I have to replace them for the New Year, too?” he jests, leaning back on his hands.

The nostalgia of his posturing and banter stirs an acute yearning in your chest. Dry air stings your sinuses. Moistens your eyes. You think of life in Seireitei before everything. Before rising the ranks. Before Shinji cut his hair. Before Aizen Sousuke.

Before Aizen, you and Shinji would enjoy tea together. Or talk. Or admire the gardens. Before Aizen, you’d stare and stare at Shinji to take your fill of him—to memorize the ugly scrunch of his face as he squinted and the tiny lines by his eyes when he laughed.

“I want every trace of him gone,” you whisper finally, face buried. “I don’t want even a single piece of him left behind. I don’t want to remember him wearing your haori, or sleeping on the same futon, or using your brushes.” The brushes you gifted Shinji to celebrate his promotion. “It makes me sick just thinking about it.” From the specks of dirt to the air in that room, Aizen lingers everywhere he shouldn’t.

Shinji’s gaze is a heavy entity. You feel it on your shoulders—his quips withheld as he considers your words.

“I never took ya for the sentimental type.”

You huff an agitated noise. “It’s revenge. Don’t confuse them. ”

“Revenge for me?” Shinji asks, sounding infuriatingly gleeful.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoff, nape prickling—caught. “Revenge for deceiving everyone.” Shinji merely hums. “You had your chance—Hinamori-chan deserves a turn to throttle him.” To that, Shinji doesn’t respond. But what is there to say? The wretched ghosts of your past bend to no one.

“Idiot,” he chides, achingly soft, “there’s nothin’ to worry about.”

(The tatami is replaced by the following week.)

[laughing-with-god]

Last question for now (apologies!)

What are the personal like… styles/ vibes of their homes? Or like, how would they decorate the inside of it? Or would they at all?

(me personally, if I just won the Hunger games, the first thing I'm doing is an AD Open Door Victor's Village edition lmao)

(( Author's Note : Don't be sorry, I love questions like these! It helps me attach visuals to characters which is really fun. For this, I pulled some Pinterest pics and did some light research on the districts, but also feel free to interpret/imagine what you feel is right!!))

Jin

I picture that the Victor homes vary depending on their district, which would make sense considering the districts are in different landscapes so not all homes can be built the same

For District One, I picture little mansions with lots of glass walls for natural light. This district is apparently in the center of the U.S. (Wyoming, Idaho, Utah) so I can see some natural materials, sun roof windows, low and wide mid-century modern houses

I think stylistically, Jin would decorate his home with lots of white and browns, a colorful rug or accent furniture here and there, but he doesn't overdo it in fear of being tacky

fireplace is probably boarded up for um, obvious reasons (war flash backs lol)

I think his favorite part of his home is the kitchen. In the games, starvation was especially tough on him, so now I think he seeks comfort in food. I can see him taking cooking classes or hiring a personal chef, maybe even throwing dinner parties.

If you were to move in with him, I think he'd be okay with you changing whatever you wanted, as long as he gets to keep all his fancy kitchen appliances

Namjoon

I dont think he'd care a lot about the style of his home, I also see him rarely being there since he has so much work to do in the capitol

District Three is apparently in the midwest, and there's lots of factories that make high end technology for the capitol

Therefore, I think the victor homes there would be simple, modern/industrial condo-style homes? Lots of grays and blacks with granite accents.

I don't think Namjoon would go out of his way to purchase furniture or decor, just accepting the furnishings it already came with. He's not a sentimental guy and a part of him is always aware that his home is technically the capitol's property, not his.

I think a cool highlight of his home would be the technology. Like his tv is just a hologram or there's just some cool tech that locks all the doors and turns on the lights on at once. other disctrict victors don't even get that, it's just district three since they rule technology

If you were to move in, Namjoon would gladly welcome any change in decor, letting you know that he never saw the point before you

Jimin

So I personally feel like District Four would make more sense in a tropical place like Florida or something, therefore I feel like there would be a "jungle/beachouse" vibe to the victor homes here

Victors row would be in a vegetated area of four, not too far from the water. I don't see the capitol wanting to have victors living right on the coast since that's most likely reserved for shipments, boating, fishing and yeah....the water is probably heavily monitered in case people get ideas...

Jimin more or less kept everything the same, though he did let his desinger team go crazy with the jungle concept

I can see Jimin liking the color green and also taking care of plants, since he's pretty lonely back at Four it gives him a little sense of innocent purpose

Again, he's def more at the Capitol than here tho, often times this feels more like a vacation home

All the guest rooms get used as extra storage for all the gifts he received from capitol women. hopes to one day fill them with kids tho :(

If you were to move in, Jimin would be estatic and gladly join in any renovation plans. He'd want to be included in the choices, pick the wrong wallpaper even and he'd be pissy about it lol

Hoseok

District Eight is full of factories and textiles, so I see victor's homes being industrial condos with brick walls, exposed pipes and wooden beams

Hoseok will try to decorate and make it feel cozy, just for the sake of his siblings though

I feel like he probably gave his siblings the bigger rooms and took one of the smallest in the home

Anything his little brothers or sisters want, it's theirs no question asked

I can see him becoming a little home maker honestly. He wakes his siblings up in the morning, makes them breakfast, sends them to school, then comes back home and cleans their rooms / common spaces, does some grocery shopping, laundry ect. ect.

It's very cute and mother hen of him but he really just can't handle freetime bc then his mind wonders to dark places...

so he throws himself into caring for his siblings

If you were to move in with him, he'd welcome you and any changes you might want to have on the common spaces, but obvi is protective of his siblings' stuff.

Yoongi

Six is said to be highly populated and overly dense, borderline too many people live here. I picture it as a city too, transportation being their main hub so there's probably even a subway system

Therefore I think the captitol would make a victor buidling or something. District Six doesnt have many victors and the place is already so dense, I think a good solution would be to make one big high rise of apartments where all the living victors have their own units

Yoongi probably threw away everything in the apartment

I can see him having some chairs and a single bed. prob doesn't even have a tv bc keeps breaking them in rage every time the capitol makes an "announcement" lol

Fridge is also always empty. Boy can go days without eating so it doesn't even occur to him to have groceries on hand

Pics below are what the place should look like, before he fucked it up

If you were to move in, good luck on even hanging up a single picture. Give it a week before Yoongi flies into another rage and rips everything to shreds.

Taehyung

I think District Eleven victor homes would be like large, farmhouses on hills away from the rest of the town

I picture feilds upon feilds in this district, since it's all about farming so it's probably very big in terms of land

I also don't think the capitol had many of these houses made, correctly assumming that Eleven wouldn't have many victors

I think Taehyung actually loves his home, quite liking the simplicity and size of it

I can see him starting a little garden in the back yard, or even getting some chickens to keep him busy

He probably would read to his mother too, he most likely set her up in the master bedroom and waits on her hand and foot

If you were to move in, he wouldn't mind little changes here and there. But at his core, he is a minimalist and would rather you not clutter up his space. Don't you two (three including his mom lol) have everything you need already? There's no shame in the simple life.

Jungkook

District Two is up in the mountains! Very cold and harsh winters, thin air but I'd imagine its very beautiful

The homes here are built in luxury cabin style at the base of the mountains. District Two also has the most victors, so I imagine their victors' village is quite the neighborhood

Jungkook is fond of the views he gets from his home. I think he'd like hiking too so he enjoys the proximity to nature

As for the interior, Jungkook doesn't really care. I know, most of the victors on this list don't care but like, kill 23ish kids in a game and ig it puts things into perspective lol

Like Yoongi, all he really needed was a good bed and he'd be okay. I don't think he got rid of the furniture the capitol provided, but he doesn't have an opinion on it either

If you were to move in, Jungkok would just hand you the cash to buy whatever decor you want, just as long as it's not "too girly"

[wanderingpages]

Chapter 3, LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO

Hot girl math every chapter, but i like that you solved the equation for me ❤️❤️ vivi is cardans age, but a freshman 

“My breasts would spill out of anything she owns, so I let her know I do actually own clothes sexy enough to attend a party.” - mommy? Sorry. Mommy?

““I used to sneak out of the house pretty late,” I reveal to her. “Sneakers though – had to climb up to my roof to get back into my bedroom.” ” - she a baddie she showing her panty – also as an aside, love the aesthetic you have going on for the tumblr chapters, like oof, you said (drake voice) this is not to get confused, this ones for you (Me,) – also does this mean she sucks at heels cus she never thought to wore them since she always used sneakers and this is foreshadow or am i reading too into this??? Also this, foreshadow too? > “but he always drew the line at curfew.” (me picking at crumbs) also: Air Force 1s in my air force one (Aside, yall remember rocking that thang remix? Yall remember when rap songs had remixes with like everyone?? Last one i heard was probably fuckin problems. We need another anthem (So i gave em another anthem [we the bessstttt]) - dj khaled - me. Peach i am on medication for Covid.)

““My…brother,” I test the word out. It’s so foreign, it tastes rancid in my mouth. ”- ok but physically, jude…jude, look at me, physically. Not rancid at all. He is delicious, i promise, you jude. Jude. I promise, you jude ❤️❤️❤️❤️

“When I say it again, in front of the lookout guy at the door of the frat house,” - ok but this transition!!! When i say its a MOVIE, PEach. PEACH

“Let me embarrass myself in front of his friends and roommates. He’ll laugh about it later, with them” awed by how canon this actually is for fanfic lmao

““Alright sweet thing,” this guy tells me and I want to punt kick him in the balls for it.” - i know thats right fr. Vivienne also, is everything. Shes a better friend than she is sister, and ill let that sit with yall (yall, i say like im talking to a crowd, bye, im so delulu) anyways but the whole inner turmoil of jude thinking Cardan invited her to embarrass her? Baby who hurt you (Your mother, i know. Already cleared that) im talking in a lot of parenthesis. You can see where the medicine is taking over, actually. Im lucid tho

““My baby sister,” he coos in jest, making me feel uneasy. “Come here,” he tells me,” –he’s such a dickhead im in love

“At the wedding it was all soft makeup and tied up hair. Today, there’s glitter on my eyelids, sharp wings accentuating the shape of my eyes, a gold glimmer on my cheeks that catches in the light, and lips so red that he holds his gaze there for a moment too long. ” – Peach, i love this so MUCH she’s EVERYTHING TO ME 🥰😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

But back to him being an ass why is he soooo lol like really walking around the fact that theyre NOT related, for the taboo of it all. Kinky mf, i fear.

“catching mirth in pretty hazel eyes only partially obscured by sandy blonde hair. ” GHOST? IS THST YOU?

JUDE AND CARDAN KISSED? WHEN?

OH - “. We did a little more than kissing that night. His fingers traced over parts of me even the sun hadn’t yet touched. Thunder had masked cries I couldn’t hold back and lightning had made him look like a luminous god. I cross my legs, embarrassed and something more.” help me. Also shut up locke, mind ur business for real, this is grown people talk.

Omg it was Ghost ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️”“You’re Greenbriar’s sister.” / “Stepsister,” I breathe out ” stop this is so derek and casey coded 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

HOLD ON WAIT GHOST?! GHOST AND JUDE? ( I love that he braced her head when they fell lmao horny but gentlemanly)

AHHH CARDAN? HELLO?! NICASIA ? OH MY GOD AND ALL FOUR OF THEM JUST DECIDE TO KEEP GOING?? They said impromptu orgy. “Cardan shifts and leans back on his elbow, still having a perfect view of me, but now giving Nicasia space to twist her head to look at me, too. ” - please…. I am on my knees… i am unwell….i am sick to my stomach… alexa play that should be me by justin beiber…. That should be me fr but which one is the question??

God why is ghost everything right now??? “Do you want them to watch?” like oh my god….. I need a moment. I need a lot of moments. “”Do you want your brother to watch me taste your come?”” – i am…convulsing. Ghost is… like my body is breaking out in a sweat.

Say please and make it as sweet as your – top 3 things that would send a victorian child into a coma

Stop why was this the best head ive read? 

““Such a good girl,” I hear Nicasia whisper.” - help….  They are actual deviants and i am in hell, keeping your seat warm, peach ❤️❤️❤️❤️

lol see this is the longest ask over ever had so far and I’m truly amazed at your commitment ngl

Sneakers, I guess it’s foreshadowing for some stuff 🤷🏻‍♀️ curfew, yes. I like that you have three separate song references in one paragraph lmao I also feel this is the point you should have called it a night and fell asleep 💀

This is so uncannon that’s I’ve tried to slip all the cannon stuff I actually can in 😫

Actually cardan was intoxicated here but was genuinely surprised she introduced herself as his stepsister cus he was like …oh? Ok…:)

Yeah you know I love me some Ghost 🤭

Yes! Absolutely Derek and Casey!

Yes ghost!!!! Also I do love people being mindful during intimate moments ngl like duh hes gonna make sure she doesn’t crack her head open!

Your commentary here is sending me oh my god 😂🥰

[seth-burroughs]

czynść dwa:

oh yeah mysterious ramen guy!! forgot he exists. i wonder what the fuck was going on in his head during the whole game. whats your opinion on the fucking plot ramen guy.

i don't. think these two peacekeepers there are quite doing their job. can you. do something about the guy that just ran out the train we were supposed to kill people on. why am i genuinely bothered about this

forgot this was the prologue..... thought that this whole section was also just a part of chapter 0

look at this very poggers city.. look theres a lot of lights put up so that we see everything and don't need the sun and also who doesn't love being wet all the time. infinite puddles. and beautiful women are here. tf more do you want.

i think i can survive the nikolai voice. at least it's not like the dazai one from the eng dub. at least they sound actually different this time. and not. like the Same Character .

the artstyle/3d elements/animation is very nice and i have no complaints except the fact the arms just flail around so much and i feel like im watching gmod ytp dudes yanking their sonic models around in the air. slamming them against the pavement. i just cant stop thinking about this

"although thanks to them the real dawn will never rise here" cartoon gulp noise. well. correct kinda but you will never ever in a million years guess the reason

I ❤️ company towns

detectivephobia mention counter: 2

ama pal ad spotted directly behind yakou

yakou gets it

"screams are part of daily noise here. theyre kind of like church bells marking sunset" same with my city lmao i hear lots of weird shit especially at night. children screeching like they're getting skinned every day at this point, some guys probably beating the shit out of some other guy screaming for help, some group of people just hitting these high notes crying and screaming bloody murder at each othe- oh wait they're just arguing nevermi- wait what the hell is that sound did a firework go off or. but mostly the children. are all of them really that loud. what percentage of them are actually getting liveleak executed and what percentage are just having a bad day or something. we shall never know! nevertheless, i do not care.

anyway back to yakou code. the nefarious smiler has been mentioned

yuma teraz: "cholera jebana jego mać dzie mie kurwa wywieźli"

love yuma's prey animal stare

they're putting chemicals in the rain that give the homunculi homosexual tendencies

yakou just gave up he has accepted the situation. as we all should

hey look its the shop lady from the sewers everybody say hi

detectivephobia mention counter: 3

so like, is the only way to get to the submarine to either 1) through the sewers (most common as we saw in the game) 2) jumping in with a motorcycle from the roofs (hellectro style) (wait in that case did the goons just go in normally through the sewers then or?) 3) some third way i do not know what the hell is but the resistance pulled it off ig. i got no idea. show me that area again now

detectivephoba mention counter: 4

all the other nda detectives had their own versions of the train massacre happening to them and surviving it somehow and yet. we hear about literally none of them. not even in the gumshoe gabs or the dlcs.

oh theyre showing the sub area now...... im gonna look for other ways to get there that arent the sewers or forbidden hellectro route...........

i cannot find one. icardi, iruka, peacekeepers, what is your secret.

everybody remember the my yakou x submarine invention. do not forget it. ill make him fuck that boat. im gonna antropomorphize the fuck out of it

i think were ending this one on the submarine entrance lmao. for now.......

continuation of my mdarc rewatch but from the ch0 ending and onwards instead because it was stressing me out too much. blissfully ignoring fzilch's entire existence anyway here comes yakou-

once again im so glad im watching this in jp dub again because i don't think i could survive if eng yakou opened his mouth and i just heard fuckinbg. dubbing dazai.

can someone tell my goddamn muscles to stOP tensing up whenever rejn kołd kanaj łard mentioned . getting the twitches again >:(

yuma peril we love to see it. also i will never stop making fun of his stupid fucking phallus haircut

i don't remember if ive said this before but japanese shinigami >>>>>>>>> english shinigami

i spot a faint trace of a seth thumbnail in the corner and start blushing and kicking my feet uncontrollably. imagining him getting his limbs ripped off

good fucking lord. oh my fucking god. jesus christ, motherfucker. my first statement aged like fucking milk i cannot take this anymore jp dub yakou has the same voice as jp dub nikolai bsd fuck my stupid baka life why do i bother. what the fuck.

huh. maybe the yomiakou mfs were onto something after all. his swagless demeanor just now has charmed me significantly.

i like how in the game his description lists his ability as "a flair for negotiation", makes him negotiate exactly once during his introduction and then he never does it again

i am not giggling at yakou furio rain code. leave me alone. i am not. IM NOT. GO AWAY. I CANNOT CONTROL MY VOICEBOX JACKASS..

"he managed to turn away the peacekeepers, so he must be in high standing" hahahaha. hahahaha. no sorry yuma i think thats just pretty privilege on his part. once again shinigami ends up being 100% correct somehow

aaaah i still really like yuma's jpn voice especially when he's stressed or screaming. makes me want to throw him down the stairs

its so pretty in here why would anyone want to leave anyway lol. when all the remaining nations explode each other kanai ward will be the only city still standing and we will flourish and thrive. also in the station(?) theres a poster with a rainbow on it so obviously its gay paradise too what more do yall fucking want

detectivephobia mention counter: 1

thats all for today i fear op is not strong enough for rhis shit,

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

What was that about an afterburn au??? 👀

Hold on I think I wrote a synopsis of it in my multiple page document containing my list of fic/au ideas,

>Lowkey post apocalyptic type setting. Post post post pizzaplex burns type thing. City is like in ruins and its shitty and its implied that Reader character was someone struggling to get by. Reader wakes up in the dilapidated ruins of what used to be the plex, confused and in pain and not sure where they are, who they are, and how they got there. Upon looking around, they realize they must have fallen through the roof and hit their head when they landed, and now their head has a considerable but not lethal hole in it and there is blood on their face and they are angry at the whole situation.

>Whole fic is Reader going around the ruins of the Plex, trying to find their way out and struggling to recall who they are or what the hell they were doing so close to a place thats very obviously a deathtrap. Along the way, they bump into whats left of animatronics, the barely-standing attractions, and various other parts of the walking lawsuit that was the pizzaplex. At some point they come across DJ MM, who is still marginally functional, but who is the most harmless thing they bump into in the place (there are also rats there so he is more harmless than a rat and yes that is funny to me)

>The first other living (not really living because hes a robot but u know what i mean) thing that Reader meets is Moon, but like Moon who still has remnants of the virus left in him and is dangerous and unpredictable. Moon spends every waking second of the day tracking down, chasing, and incapacitating Reader, and Reader fuckin hates him for it lmao. Every time Moon manages to grab them, knock them out or waits until they pass out from exhaustion, he takes them back to the remains of the Daycare and puts them in what used to be him and Sun’s room. Every time Reader wakes up there they’re weirded out, say “fuck this” and book it the fuck outta there. And every time, Moon comes back to track them down and drag them back by the fuckin ankles lmao. Every time Reader gets out, the next time they’re put in there, there’s more in the way of their attempts to leave, like Moon is doing more and more to try to keep them stuck in there and every time they get out anyway, he fixes the way they used to get out the last time.

>As time goes on, it’s revealed that Moon is, for some reason, stuck in Moon-mode and can’t switch back to Sun (though Reader doesn’t know this, they can’t recall anything about anything, not even their own name, so as far as they know this place- and the whole concept that is Sun and Moon- is completely foreign to them). Moon completely avoids the light and reacts strangely to certain places or sounds or sights, which Reader starts using to their advantage. They don’t entirely understand why Moon keeps coming after them, with the appearance of someone who is willing to kill to get what they want, only to knock them out and take them to their weird den thing. Even weirder, Moon is never in the room when they wake up, like he’s always out somewhere even though he’s, seemingly, gotten what he wants.

>The bad part about always getting taken to the daycare? Yknow, other than the whole ‘loss of freewill’ bit? Being knocked unconscious has repeatedly worse and worse effects on their health, both mental and physical. One day, they haul off at Moon, trying to beat him silly for the first time since they first met, and scream “if you wanted me dead so bad, why wouldn’t you just do it already, you fucking coward?” And Moon is surprisingly jarred by this and retreats. Reader is so confused at this point that they just stand there, expecting it to be a trick. For a while after that, Moon leaves them alone, then starts just kind of… lingering around. Following, but from a distance. After a while, they start having ‘conversations’ with one another (it’s difficult, because Moon can’t speak and Reader doesn’t know sign). Slowly, they develop a sort of begrudging friendship. And eventually, Reader realizes they and Moon have more of a history than they thought- the first time they met Moon after getting trapped in the Plex was not the first time they met at all. In an attempt to figure things out and, perhaps, get out of this place TOGETHER, the two go on a journey through their trauma- for the first time since their respective traumatizing events, not alone.

And that’s about it I think!! Mostly just a slow-ish, angsty “we’ve met before. you don’t remember, but that’s okay; you’re still very important to me” type fic. (And yes, they would be in love, bc of course they would be, idk what you expect from me I’m a simple bitch)

[calllamander]

Okay I'm ready I've made up my mind , here's a little backstory no one wants to hear: my sister just got engaged and I cried for about half an hour because I was so freakin happy for her sooo I'm in such a lovely mood , maybe you can pick that up and write a little engagement thingy ? :) idc if it's drabble hcs or else , whatever works best for you sweetie 😊 also you can pick the character ...... but we both know who works always for us lmao

Thank you so muuuch and take all the time you need ! 💖

ahhhh! this is so sweet! nonnie congrats to your sister!! when I got this ask I literally started smiling so wide in my online class that everyone was really confused 😂 I hope this is alright...and plausible haha I’ve never been proposed to (hurry up Tooru smh) - sorry for the wait, this is my piece de résistance and I wanted it to be as good as it could be ❣️

Hq boys proposing

KUROO smiled at you from the passenger seat, your hand in his as usual as you drove, Tokyo fading into the patchwork fields of country. “tetsu...” you ask, laughing as the wind tangled you’re hair, “where are we going?” it seemed almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask because he suddenly looked nervous, very nervous, the kind of nervous where he accidentally blurts out chemistry pick up lines on the first date (it’s a miracle he got a second one). he looked over, emboldened by your easy enthusiasm. “do you remember when we were still in high school, and you used to call me and just say ‘get me out of here?’ ” his voice is low and serious, and impossibly gentle with emotion. you nod, and your smile gets sadder at the memory, the memory of you. “well,” he stops the car and opens up his door, hurrying round to do the same for yours, composing his thoughts as you start the walk, down the path off the road, along the river, and he feels a flush of pride as recognition illuminates your face. it’s a perfect evening, the sky is watercolour pink and orange, and the water reflects it perfectly. “we found this place by chance” he continued speaking faster from nerves, “and when we walked down this- this exact path, i knew that this was different from anything else. my whole life I have had a good life, and I had been with good people and yet I‘d just felt...” he paused, and looked you right int he eyes, before sighing out: “restless.” your mouth opens slightly and you whisper his name. “And you know when I’m with you I just feel still” he continues, starting to blink back tears. “and I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything y/n l/n, and” he got down on one knee: in front of the setting sun, and the river refracting the light. and he did look still. he looked radiant and relaxed and so so happy. and you covered your face with your hands but stopped yourself because you didn’t want to miss any of this. “and this is my moms ring” he said, “and i wish she could’ve met you but I know she would have“ his voice cracked and he looked away for a split second, swallowing hard, “would have loved you almost as much as I do.” he grinned in spite of himself and you smiled too, even through your tears. “so,” he laughed, “after all this, I guess ill just....” he laughed again, messing his hair up agitatedly, “will you marry me?”

“yes!” you laugh and run towards him, “a thousand times yes!”

OIKAWA looked himself over once more in the mirror, he’d tried hard to look like he’s trying but also casual which makes him feel kind of stupid but that paradox of appearances and feelings is just how he’s wired. casual. not I’ve-been-planning-this-for-forever-and-if-it-goes-badly-i-don’t-have-the-faintest-idea-what-I’d-do. that’s not what he wants. it needs to be a total surprise. the rings already in his breast pocket, right above his heart. the ring feels like happiness. “princess?” he spins and offers you his arm, “ready?” And when he’s sees you he blushes down neck like when its genuine, because you look beautiful in that dress, and he might be getting a little bit choked up, and ducking down to hide it. because...because it’s you, because he’s actually doing this. with you. actually. finally. “lets go then” you laugh and he laughs back with a determination usually reserved for the court. because this is everything. the drive is a short one and the night air is cold against your cheek, the streetlights make oikawa’s hair a coppery halo round his head and the wind fluffs it up in a way he gets frustrated about but you could stare at all day. “i love you ” you sigh, looking over at your boyfriend, and he blushes and stutters and tries to focus on the road. “I love you too darling” and he gives you the gentlest smile that he‘s ever shared with anyone “te amo, mi alma.” he parks and takes your hand. the observatory is empty: long closed, and your heels clack on the tiled floor. the stairs are steep, but the two of you are young and you‘re boundless because that’s what love does to people. in no time at all you step out, into the round room that forms the top floor, and gasp. there’s candles set in the corners and there’s flowers and there’s your boyfriend looking utterly ethereal, his white shirt a buttery yellow in the candle light. and you feel your heart just ache with how much you love him. he presses a button, and, as the roof starts to open up like a flower, he takes a deep breath. “when I was younger every time I felt lonely I used to think about space” sliver by sliver the roof was opening up, and you could see a glass dome, snatches of stars, pinpricks of light. torus voice was gentle, and fragile, and proud and horrifically insecure and somehow everything because it was him. “theres more out there“ He glanceable up at the sky unfolding, “than we can ever comprehend...I liked it. I liked that it was infinite. i liked that I belonged to something that was chaotic and orderly and empty and full” he swallowed hard. “and then there was you. and you were the best person I had ever met. and I thought that maybe I would have to be something else for you, because i’ve felt like that my whole life. but you - you just...made me feel like I belonged. and I didn’t need the night sky anymore because this,” the roof finally opened all the way and for one perfect moment it was just you, tooru and the universe: the heaviness of him, and the lightness too. “this is infinite.” he dropped down on one knee. “y/n l/n I love you with everything in the solar system and I will until every last star is blown out, and a thousand years more. and this isn’t horrifically corny so I’m going to just ask: will you marry me?” You let out a sob

“yes”

SAKUSA leant into your touch the way he never had for anyone else. like a warmth he never knew was missing, a tiny puzzle piece in his soul. your hand was running through his hair, occasionally creeping down to rub his back. he blushes, because irritatingly he can’t stop himself (but does he wean them to?). you‘re off guard now, relaxed, eyes closed, breathing in the night air from the roof of your apartment block. his face is in your neck and it’s all very peaceful (so peaceful it makes his heart hurt). he takes a deep breath (its now or never). “...hey y/n?” you hum, opening your eyes to show you’re listening. he struggles to think of what to say. “i love you” he settles on. you kiss his hair, “I love you too omi.” you say it like it’s obvious and he shakes his head, sitting up a little more so he can look at you. “no, I mean...I- I didn‘t know what love was. and I didn’t realise how badly I wanted it, until I met you. and I just” he exhales, momentarily turning his head up to stare into the sky. “I want to spend forever with you. that. that’s what I want. and I don’t have a ring, or a dramatic plan and maybe that’s what you would have wanted-” he’s looking down now, he knows, getting nervous, and he forces himself to get back on track. “but” He realises he should be kneeling and goes to do so in front of you. “I would be the happiest man alive if you would marry me.” and there, on a camp bed that he dragged onto the roof and covered with bedding just because you mentioned you liked the night, under the cloudy 11 o clock sky with the love of your life. you said yes.

@anonanonymousanon

[s0lar-ch3ri]

NO. OMG. YOU FUCKING KNOW MYTHBORNE TOO!!!!

the mythborne tag probs has a lot of my shit BUTTTTTT it has people that are real and exist on tumblr

so real, they are absolutely trans bebo just cant not make them

btw, mythborne is actually on their yt and spotify and was my first campaign and the only reason i started riptide! i know its on both cause i also dont have the patreon so yeah

ALRIGHT ENOUGH ON THAT LETS GET TALKING ABOUT CONNOR!!! (spoilers ahead lol)

okay so connor. my boy. oh my god hes a boy. can i just say i thought that like ryan and connor had some gay shit going on? CONNORS FUCKING MORALITY CHANGED BECAUSE HE WAS TRYING TO SAVE HIM

anyways, my beautiful boy, lets talk about that magic that made him able to save ryan. despite seeming as not so special (ryan is jacked and aster aeliana is related to mr. aeliana), connor has a special power due to a book. what power you may wonder? FUCKING DEATH MAGIC. he uses it very logically (example: decayed roof to let light in to lead rats away) if ever, considering how they didnt really have like any fights happen. in fact, id say he uses it the least! however, every time he uses it, it definately makes an impact, and i think that says a lot about his character.

from what i know, connor seeked out this kind of magic because of his ill brother. he wanted to CONTROL DEATH to help his brother. i dont know about you, but that kind of love, of trying to control what is seen as a natural and an unstoppable force, makes an impact.

the kind of love where your whole morality shifts as though something in you dies, to go agsinst parental teachings and lose your strong morality and intregity in the process, that makes an impact.

even just plot wise, like the destroying the inside of that machine so the investigators couldnt stop the big game, that would make an impact.

like i said, each time connor uses the death magic (which isnt much by the way) it makes an impact like a changing the game tag. however, hes never used it to kill someone. yes, he murdered several rats, but all the actors were left alive. the roof couldnt die because it isnt alive. he got the death magic to make sure his borther DIDNT die!

its also interesting to see him paired up with aster and ryan of all people. ryan joins in on calling him "con-nerd" yet they still hang out, with their complete opposites of personality. and aster, whos apparently the daughter of the sun (ask me about my theory on her and you wont get me to stfu lmao) and has powers related to light and life, while death is associated with darkness and shit. not to mention, aster has used her powers directly on people to hurt them, so its as though she could be thought of as "evil" or smth like that (im only saying it cause it makes the comparisons work even better) (also example: she used heat metal on a flute still in a mans mouth).

asters opposite in magic, ryans opposite in personality, and yet who else would connor befriend?

and hes definately made impacts on his friends! aster at the beginning was quite shy when inside she was wild, and connor helped her let it out. ryan literally was having an identity crisis and he kinda just showed ryan that he cared for him being himself throughout the story (if im reading them wrong i literally writing this beofre i head to school so yeah)

connor deserves to be talked about more because by the goddesses does he make an impact

thanks for tuning into cherry talks gayly about his special interests lets see who i torment an answer out of next

hey so if you had to pick a character you either really really like or want to be talked about more (as in, put under a microscope and picked apart to see what they all about) from jrwi who would it be

im so not obvious teehee

hmmmm a good question..... CONNOR CONNORS CONNOR CONNORS CONNOR CONNORS I LOVE CONNOR CONNORS JHFJSHJKSFHJKFHKDJSFHKD hes so special to me and i feel like i didnt get enough connor connors content, hes just non existent (actually he could be more existent than i think but i happen to be one of the few people who do NOT own the jrwi patreon)

but like also if im in a different mood them chip jrwi is always a go to (i love bizly's silly little transguy characters (they arent trans but i have decided they are so now they are))

[nbrook29]

Lmao I don’t know how this happened 😆

***

June 26th 2021, Saturday

When Sander wakes up, it’s to the early morning June sunlight hitting him straight in the face. There’s a vague smell of alcohol lingering in the air, and he groans pitifully when he remembers the amount of beer he drank last night; well, it wasn’t that much per se, but for his not-usually-drinking self it was a bit much, which would explain the sour taste in his mouth. He could be beating himself up for letting a little too much loose and messing up his rather strict rules, but it’s finally summertime and he was feeling so happy and free. Exams are done and over with, bigger gatherings are allowed again, and most importantly, the love of his life has just graduated high school and-

Wait. 

He blinks his eyes open, arm reaching to the other side of the bed expecting a warm body, but it’s met with cold sheets instead. 

Where did that love of his life go? 

Bones cracking when he sits up on the bed, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes like a little boy, looking around the room, a twinge of worry in his mind. Robbe was way more drunk than him yesterday, being a giggly, inebriated, lovely, messy mess that was barely standing when the party came to an end. Sander had to practically carry him to their cabin, with Robbe wrapped like a koala around his back, holding tight as he mumbled love declarations into Sander’s hair until he fell asleep, arm looped around his head and cheek resting on top of it. It was unbearably cute, but it was also a miracle Sander’s legs didn’t give out because as small as Robbe is, carrying his dead weight on his back is a challenge.

For a second, a dark scenario enters his mind, and he’s working himself up over Robbe maybe getting up at some point to throw up and being so drunk he choked in the bathroom (yes, he’s a tad dramatic), but then a scrap of paper lying on the makeshift bedside table that is his backpack catches his sight and relief washes over him. 

It’s clearly torned out from his sketchbook and he smiles before he even reaches for it.

Come and find me when you wake up x

Little hearts were added all around for good measure and then there’s another message below.

P.S. You’re so fucking hot xxxxx

Snorting, Sander thinks back to yesterday’s afternoon when he showed up to pick Robbe up with his dad’s car so they could meet everyone in Ostend. The way his jaw dropped wide open seeing his brand new look makes him feel very smug at the mere memory.

Right next to the note there’s that piece of confetti he put in Robbe’s long hair at the party, his boyfriend blushing so prettily when Sander told him he couldn’t find a flower as beautiful as him around so the confetti had to do for the time being. 

That’s Sander’s favorite activity: pulling a blush out of him with his sappy lines. Well, maybe after getting lost in their out of this world kisses. Or making love to him, slow and sweet or fast and dirty, Sander’s not picky.

5 minutes and he’s out the door after the quickest shower of his life, minty fresh and ready for a quest to find his other half. It’s still very early, the clock showing a few minutes past eight, and to be honest, Sander wonders how on earth is Robbe up and about already. He was fully preparing for a morning full of Robbe’s moans (not the good kind), cursing him for letting him drink so much and swearing on his life that he’ll never touch alcohol again.

The beach is almost empty, barely a few people lounging on the sand, and it takes him no time to spot longish brown curls flying with the force of the wind. Robbe looks lost to the world around him, sitting cross-legged and leaning back onto his arms, face turned to the sun to catch the early morning rays. A soft smile is dancing on his lips as he takes in the sight of the calm sea stretching till the horizon to the sound of whatever is playing in his headphones (probably Bowie because Robbe has a Master’s degree in his music now, courtesy of Sander Driesen) and he looks the most relaxed Sander has seen him in weeks. He looks beautiful.

And Sander is so so in love with him it hurts.

The boy must’ve sensed his presence because he turns around just when he’s a few meters away, his smile growing wide at the sight of him, squinting a little and wow, how does he look so good after a night like that? Sander wonders whether it’s his lovesick devotion that makes him see Robbe through a filter or if sleep did its job marvellously this time.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Robbe pulls at his jean jacket to sit him right next to himself and wastes no time before looping his arms around his neck, peppering his lips with good morning kisses.

“Hey, drunkie,” Sander teases once Robbe gets his fit, earning a half-hearted glare and a soft scoff.

“I was not that drunk.”

“You fell asleep on my head while I was carrying your butt to bed.”

“Well your head is very comfy,” Robbe states matter-of-factly, leaving no room for further discussion because he shuts up any snarky comment Sander may have had with another kiss. That’s a-okay with him, and he tangles his hand in Robbe’s gorgeous locks that he will worship till the day he dies, never missing an occasion to bury his fingers in the tangled strands. The other hand joins in the fun, tugging playfully at the earring he’s also a tiny bit too obsessed with and delighting in the high-pitched sound it pulls out of Robbe.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought you’d be dead to the world till at least noon.” Sander makes himself comfy in Robbe’s embrace, leaning against him and playing with Robbe’s long fingers that are resting on his stomach.

The boy huffs a quiet laugh, a warm puff of air tickling Sander’s neck. “I think it’s the sea breeze making me sober up quicker than normally,” he pauses, hand nudging lightly at Sander’s chin to make him lift his head back and meet his eyes, a soft smile on his lips as he continues. “That and also I think that I was less drunk on alcohol and more drunk on love.”

Sander may be the king of sappy lines, but Robbe has a few of his own up in his sleeve, and everytime he pulls one out, it makes him melt into a pile of goo. Sander crashes their lips together in a kiss that’s a little too heavy for a morning in a public space, but hey, they’re drunk on love and he doesn’t care, Robbe doesn’t care either, and there aren’t many people around them anyway so fuck it. He hums into the kiss, Robbe’s tongue grazing the roof of his mouth almost as by accident, and it’s so good, it always is.

“Last night, it felt so... life-changing, you know? And I don’t know why cause not that much is changing, really.”

“You’re graduating high school, it feels big.”

“Yeah, but I’m staying here for uni, I’m not moving or anything. I don’t know, I think I’ve been feeling a little nostalgic lately.” Robbe shrugs like he doesn’t really understand it, but doesn’t want to dwell on it either. There’s a small frown between his eyebrows though so Sander reaches to smooth it out with his thumb.

Then, something comes to his mind. “Maybe it’s because of us?”

Robbe’s frown gets deeper. “What do you mean?”

Sander turns around in his arms, nodding at the surroundings, voice laced with excitement. “You know this is the first time we have been at the beach since we met?”

Brown eyes blink at him in confusion, but then they light up and match Sander’s excitement.

“Oh my god, you’re right! Fuck, it feels like a different lifetime.”

A very miserable, shitty lifetime if you ask Sander. For both of them.

“I was so lonely back then,” Robbe sighs.

Sander notices a tiny shadow of sadness fogging Robbe’s eyes, like it always happens when he thinks back to that period of his life. Some wounds were cut too deep to fully heal, but Sander’s always there to bring him back to the present.

Tugging lightly on his hair to make him look back at him, Sander gives him a lopsided grin.

“Not gonna lie, I’m very pleased this time around the only person that’s allowed to kiss you is me.”

Robbe hums, a smirk brewing on his lips. “Hmm, I don’t know, I wouldn’t say no to a kiss from Jens I think.”

And Sander knows he’s doing it on purpose, absolutely loves to rile him up and play the “Jens” card when he wants to be snogged into submission. Robbe learned early on that even though Sander’s aware he’s just joking, his possessive streak always comes out in situations like this, making their kisses extra good and their sex extra hot.

“Careful now,” Sander breathes against his mouth, the pent up tension that accumulated last night and wasn’t relieved because Robbe was too drunk hitting him hard. It seems to be mutual because Robbe bites his lip seductively, impish smile letting Sander know that he’s getting the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“Or what?”

“Or I’m gonna carry you to bed the way I did last night, but the finale will be a little different.”

Suddenly, Robbe’s smile turns softer, the gear change leaving Sander a bit confused, but he welcomes it with a chuckle when Robbe snuggles close to him, nuzzling into his neck and letting out a content sigh.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs sweetly against his skin, breaking and healing Sander’s heart all at once. 

“I love you too, cutie. In elk universum.” 

A giggle erupts from Robbe at the universe line. “It’s been a while since you said that.”

Sander presses a kiss to his temple. “I think I'm feeling a bit nostalgic too.” 

***

The beach is slowly starting to fill out with people and bursting their little bubble so they get up reluctantly to the sounds of their grumbling stomachs that demand late breakfast. They notice their friends in the distance, spreading a huge blanket on the sand and carrying armfulls of food, and they walk over to them slowly, smiling goofily at each other and swaying their joined hands, paying no mind to people around. 

“Hey, Sander?” Robbe says suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be dating a college boy now,” Robbe announces, and he sounds so proud and so adorable that Sander has to tease him a little.

He sighs, putting an extra edge of sorrow into it. “I think you’re getting too old for me, Robin.” A choked-off sound of pain follows, Robbe’s mellowy state not stopping him from jabbing his elbow in Sander’s ribs when he’s being a cheeky little shit. He should’ve known better by now - Robbe’s elbows are merciless. 

They arrive at the spot shoving each other playfully until Zoe yells at them to behave and sit their butts down like good boys to eat their food. They dig in without needing to be asked twice, their previous bickering forgotten as Robbe feeds him sandwiches, pretending they’re airplanes and making Sander and everyone around laugh hard.

This, today, yesterday, is a new memory. One that wipes away the angst he used to associate sea and beach with after enviously watching Robbe in the arms of someone else. 

This time, Robbe’s smiles are directed at him, his eyes are constantly seeking out him, hand slides surreptitiously into his hand, and Sander’s heart is bursting with happiness.

They’re going on a roadtrip this summer, just him and his favorite skater boy, and Sander cannot fucking wait. Just like he can’t wait for their future together.

And if there’s a ring sitting in his bottom drawer nobody needs to know for now. 

Robbe will find out in 55 days.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

breaking it down to find a meaning

neighbours au?

this came out of literally no where. I was getting ready for bed and I had "I wanna love somebody" by We Three stuck in my head and then I opened tumbles and this just poured out of me? Yea I literally wrote this in the tumblr post option. no google doc we die like lovers.

I point this out only to say this is defs not edited lmao. I didn't even expect it to be this long it was supposed to a tiny drabble?

please enjoy!

[all images have alt text]

There are exactly three things wrong with Percy's current living situation.

1. He has far too little lounge space for his terribly long body. His shins have hit the coffee table six times today in his attempt to maneuver from sitting on the couch to standing.

2. The spare bedroom is not a good enough sound quality for his guitar or his drum practice. The bathroom is much better. He cannot practice in his bathroom forever, or ever.

3. His neighbour is undeniably, completely distractingly hot.

He hasn't allowed himself to rate the problems in order of most troublesome because he's a little ashamed about which one might take first place.

Since moving in one week ago Percy has had many opportunities to arrange and rearrange every aspect of the tiny two bedroom— or one bedroom and a makeshift studio— apartment until he could walk around it blind. He knows not to step on the third floorboard from the left wall on the way to his bedroom because it creaks unpleasantly and he thinks his downstairs neighbours are going to shove a hot poker through the roof just to brandish the annoying foot that keeps making the noise. He knows that the oven setting has to be juggled just right for it to go on. He knows the curtain railings in the living room are far too thin and brittle— he will have to replace them before the month is out. He knows you have to turn the hot tap in the shower three times and the cold tap four to get the exact perfect temperature. What he doesn't know, however, is his neighbour's name, or the colour of their eyes, or anything about them. All he knows is that they're hot.

But today, bruised shin and all, Percy is determined to introduce himself. If for nothing else but to gauge just how upset they might be when he starts up what his mother used to lovingly call "Melodic Madness".

So far it takes the reign as number one reason he's had to leave his previous living spaces. Mr Chiron from Strawberry Valley, who told the landlord the noise was so loud it made his steel kneecaps rust. Creative, but Percy isn't sure it's feasible. Then there was Minerva from Olive Grove who took one look at him and told the landlord he was a drug dealer, or worse, a drug user. He had raised a brow, couldn't stop his lip from tugging up, liking the way the ring that hugged his bottom lip stretched deliciously. He almost killed her on the spot. He would have laid lillies at her funeral and she would have risen again to throw them away. The last place, a Mr Hedge. Percy was glad to leave him behind. There were baseball bags swinging and yelling almost as loud as he played every time they crossed paths. For his own safety Percy didn't even wait for the man to call the landlord before he wad tucking his drumsticks in his pocket and high tailing it to, here.

Here being Sunset Gardens. Here being in this small apartment that fit him almost perfectly. Here being one knock away from meeting his new neighbour.

Percy wonders, as he looks at the soft cream wood of the door, if he should have worn a turtle neck to hide the snake tattoo wrapping around his throat. Or maybe a button down and a tie, to hide the swirls of ink on his arms. The black t-shirt he has on, a normal longer length to his usual cropped look, is clean and soft from use. He decides it'll have to be good enough because he can't wear button downs all the time. How ever will he afford all the ties that come with the obligation?

Percy knocks on the door.

There's silence behind it. The silence of sleepy world, too cozy-can't move. The silence that doesn't wish to be disturbed.

The door opens.

His neighbour's eyes are blue. Bright blue. Startling blue. Blue enough to make his lungs feel a lack of oxygen. He's reaching for the sky and it's getting harder to breather the higher he gets.

"Hello." Says his neighbour.

Percy is flying closer to the sun than Icarus ever will, ever could.

"Can I help you?"

He needs to stop staring. He needs to say something that doesn't make him look like a gaping angel fish. All starry eyes halos and floundering for relief from the air. Do fish know how beautiful the sky is? He imagines if they did they'd all kill themselves trying to get to it. He's doing it right now.

"Hi," He grins. Teeth white, straight, flossed because his mother forced him to learn the habit. "I'm Percy, your new neighbour."

"Jason," The voice is warm, deep. He knows if he lay his head on that spectacular chest he'll feel every vibration when this blue eyed spectacle talks. It'll be like getting into a really nice car and feeling the seats rumble beneath you.

"How are you finding the apartment?"

They're still standing on his door front. Jason won't relent his sanctuary. Percy won't toe over the line, curiouser and curiouser as he is.

"Good. Living room is causing some bodily harm," He waves to his shin, "But otherwise very good. Cozy."

"We share a wall. I don't know if it's your bedroom and mine or..." His neighbour trails off.

"It's my spare bedroom against you." They both glance to his door, light from his lounge flooding the passage in a perfect parallelogram.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He's looking into the sky again. Watches as hair falls over that golden forehead. His hands— tattooed "amare" on his left fingers and "amari" on his right— twitch to push it back, to grasp the white strands, to know what light feels like. He tucks them into the pockets of his sweatpants. He tells them behave. The twitch in their hiding place. He doesn't let them seek.

"What about it?" Jason is frowning, in that worried way that says he's used to bad news and he's tired of it too.

"I uh," Percy's eyes flicker around the world. "I play guitar and drums. I'm using that room as my music room."

"Oh." The relief in Jason is a pointed arrow straight at his heart. Even cupid could never shoot something so potent. "That's okay. I'll use your music as inspiration when I paint."

Percy is Icarus three seconds after he believes he can fly. Percy is Patroclus when he feeds Achilles. Percy is Hercules after completing his first trial. Percy is a hero and a warrior and the luckiest person alive. Percy is alive.

"I hope you're good." Jason shrugs as if he hadn't tattooed a permanent place into the underside of Percy's ribcage.

"I hope so too." He manages to say back.

"I'll show you what I can create from you the first time and you can judge." Those blue eyes are so wide with innocence. Not the innocence of life but of words. His neighbour has no idea what he's doing to him. Has no idea that he is about to go home and make song lyrics out of all these declarations.

"I look forward to it." He smiles wide. It's ocean deep with happiness.

There are exactly three things perfect about Percy's current living situation:

1. The kitchen has a gas stove enough counter space for him to make bread and his mother's gumbo

2. His bedroom is big enough for him to fit a king sized bed easily. He is a sprawler when he sleeps and he cannot be happier to sprawl across never ending expanse.

3. His hot neighbour is perfect.

[pridewon]

@cauterisen​ said: when atsumu miya left the party, the hustle and bustle of the festivities being held in honor of him and osamu, most would have assumed the black jackals setter needed to get some air. which was fine, really. whether it be overwhelming or just a change of pace, that was all fine.what was stranger, then, was kimiko following him on what was seemingly an even greater whim.there was no need for her, really, to leave and take the gift she'd wanted to give him around the company of others and brave the october night chill with nothing but a white jacket and her own blue dress to go up to the roof, but she does.maybe, just maybe, she wanted them to have a moment to themselves. maybe she doesn't know yet, what atsumu miya and their rivalrly forged in that one national spring tourney their final year of high school turned strange but somehow meaningful friendship meant to her, but she hoped they'd find some sense of it together in quiet.she finds him, eventually, looking out at the city lights in his gold jacket with some sort of drink in hand. 'hi.' her voice came out reedlike, unlike her own. 'just wanted to say happy birthday. and to thank you.' she glanced at him again, perhaps more searchingly. 'for being there for me this long.' zip zip zip, she'd been around and busy for the past few years, from tokyo to asia and to argentina the previous year to compete in judo and study art history abroad. throughout a good deal of it, atsumu had been something of a constant for her, a companion, and even his boisterous nature and teasing made her feel more at ease and more at home, whether it be with his jokes or even bragging or gripes here and there about his career and all the goings on between him and his teammates. it made her feel at home even when she wasn't home in tokyo or even in japan, and somehow along the way she began to appreciate that and him more than she ever thought she would have. surprising, yes, but not bad by a longshot.'so i wanted to give you this.' kimiko handed atsumu a wrapped long and thin package containing a traditional japanese woven good luck charm, which she'd bought, and a tiny acrylic fox tail charm, which she had made herself, all bound together on a single silver key chain. kimiko smiled, continuing on. 'it's just a little something, really, but i hope it helps you remember that someone out there, me, is rooting for you. i know you might say you don't need extra luck but,,, it'd make me happy knowing that you have something of me, me, that's fighting on that court with you.' even if her future wasn't all solid, even if it's still up in the air partway into her final year of college and university... she felt beholden to atsumu, somehow and in some way or another, and that she wanted him to know she cared and that he was in her thoughts wherever she went or wherever her road led. her small but strong hand made its way to atsumu's shoulder, patting and then rubbing it briefly before she released it... looking into atsumu's brown eyes with her own blue. 'keep up that good volleyball fight, buddy. i'm rooting for you. always.'(happy miya twins day and atsumu day!!! even if this got ridiculously away from me lmao)

Another year around the sun; another notch at his belt and in the count of the years he and his twin have been alive. For as long as he can remember, Atsumu has had that sense that his and Osamu’s birthday was a great opportunity to gather friends and family and celebrate all together - double the dose of fun and party because there are two boys to celebrate instead of one. It has been him and Osamu since the beginning, and he cannot remember a single year where they celebrated separately - not even after they went their separate ways, not even during that year when Atsumu played abroad (he flew all the way back to Osaka for the occasion). He doesn’t expect it’ll change. Hell, he doesn’t want it to change.

Atsumu makes his brother miserable, and Osamu does him the same favour, but this is one of those things for which anything other than together is unthinkable.

By the same logic, there isn’t really a need for anyone (or an expectation for anyone) to treat one twin differently than the other, even when affinities come into play... so it does come as a surprise, when Kimiko joins him on the rooftop, reiterates her birthday wishes, and hands him a small package. “Huh?” Surprise flashes through brown eyes, under a raise of his brow; but fingers close on the small package, discard his half-finished drink to the side on the railing, and focus on unwrapping the paper.

Atsumu Miya isn’t exactly known to be... friendly. Or present in people’s lives. Or supportive in any way shape or form - unless you’re lucky enough to stand on the same side of the court as him, or your name is Osamu Miya (maybe Kita-san gets a pass too -- but Kita-san does more of the supporting than he needs it). So when Kimiko thanks him... of course it comes as a damn surprise. 

Atsumu Miya has been called many things before: a jackass, a selfish bastard, a jerk with the personality of sewage water... admittedly, Atsumu does very little to make himself more likeable. To make himself someone other people might actually want around, or to be around. He has made his peace with it since he was twelve years old, but... 

... but life is full of surprises, and maybe, just maybe -- he’s getting a little bit less shit at the whole friends thing with age. A little buzzed by the beer and sake he has already ingested, the Black Jackals’ setter contemplates the keychain assorted with charms resting in the palm of his hand.

... Atsumu is not a very good friend, he thinks. But Kimiko begs to differ, and maybe, maybe (!!)... it’s nice to know someone is in your corner, every once in a while. Maybe it’s nice to know that for all their bickering and their little highschool rivalry back in the days? She has decided to grant him a respect he didn’t even know he deserved or should expect. He weighs the little charms in his hand, and turns his eyes to her with a lazy, foxy smile. “You better. We’re gonna win the Olympics next year, y’wouldn’t wanna miss out on that, wouldja?” He muses, acknowledging the pat on his shoulder by ruffling her raven hair (a good and sure way to annoy her - a good and sure way to defuse and diffuse the fact that maybe (!!) he’s getting a little emotional). “Thanks. For, y’know - this.” He pulls the key to his apartment from the pocket of his jacket, and hooks it to the keychain. Perfect. “ ‘course I don’t need extra luck on the court, but y’know, I might need it t’survive the airhead gang I got as a team, so. Keep rootin’ for me, an’ I’ll keep rootin’ for ya too, deal?” 

[beardrabbles]

composed together. [ ♡ ]

characters: venti, reader

warnings: alcohol mention

word count: 3,029

notes: been trying out venti as a muse on a roleplay blog i have, but I wanted to have a crack at writing a reader with him. i'm not a poet in any sense of the word, so i'm sorry if isn't up to venti's standards lmao. if you tolerated all the rhyming, you deserve a gold star and a high-five.

You had tried so hard to make it back in time, but were disappointed when you returned to find Mondstadt barren of the usual Windblume decorations. There were no wreaths or elaborately decorated banners, no potted plants sporting twirling pinwheels. The scent of fresh flowers and baking goods persisted, but it didn’t carry with it the festive spirit. People were, once again, content to ask for help rather than tend to their own needs.

‘ And that’s why I missed out.  .  . ’ You brooded. It was because you offered yourself as a member of the Adventurer's Guild that you had found yourself pulled away from your home. You had been promised that the job in question wouldn’t take you longer than three days, give or take a day depending on how well you did. But, as it turned out, you had been gone for an entire week. And in that week, the festival had come and gone.

Windblume had never been about the romance for you. Every year, you looked forward to the food and atmosphere, letting the spirit carry you away. This year, however, you had held onto the fleeting hope that someone might show interest. Or that you might gather the courage to approach the one you so adored. You knew it was a lame excuse to depend on one holiday to steel your nerves, but the time and your chance had dashed past in the blink of an eye.

“Shouldn’t have taken the damn commission.” You slumped at an outdoor table near The Angel’s Share, a half-empty tankard of cider resting in your hands. You drummed your fingers along the side of the tankard, willing yourself not to be bummed. The holiday would come around again next year, you reminded yourself as you downed another gulp. “But I’ll probably get sent out then too.”

You stooped forward even further, cheek nearly pressed flat to the table when the familiar sound of plucked  lyre strings thrummed in your ear. You sat straight so abruptly that you made yourself dizzy, your need to look around rapidly for the source not helping the fuzzy feeling in your head.

“Venti?” You called his name with such unbridled hope that he couldn’t keep himself hidden for long. A giggle sounded above you, and you felt your diminishing mood soar when you spotted the colorful bard sitting along the eaves of the tavern, beloved lyre in hand.

“The one and only!” He cooed, soaking in your glee. “Looks like you started without me.”

You frowned and peered down at your table, noting the two other empty tankards. Cheeks flushed from embarrassment, you pushed them aside, as if that would make them ( and your shame ) disappear. “Look, I just got back and I find out I missed out on Windbl——!”

Eyes up, you realized too late that Venti had vanished from the roof. You blinked once, then twice, your cider-addled mind slow to catch up. Where did he go?

“I was wondering where you’d gone off too.” His voice bobbed along the air, light and playful, and it tugged your attention like a hook pulling along a caught fish. He sat across from you, his chin resting in his palm and bright eyes twinkling with eternal mischief. “Missed Windblume, huh?”

“Mhmm.” You grunted and polished off the rest of your drink, mood dropping again. “I was looking forward to it too. Did I miss anything important?”

Venti hummed and leaned back in his seat. Absentmindedly, he toyed with the strings of his lyre. “Let me think. Margaret thought of a new, non-alcoholic drink and it went over pretty well with the kids and those looking to keep themselves a little more dignified during the festivities. Our own Honorary Knight was named this years Windblume Star! Oh! That’s right, I taught a class on the art of expressing ones love though poetry.”

You snorted.

“You taught people to write poems?” Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “At what cost?”

“Come noq, Y/N, do you really think I could put a price on the ability to write out what a person’s heart yearns for most?” He paused, saw your deadpan stare, then let out a nervous chuckle. “A few bottles of holiday-exclusive wine is all I asked for.”

“Begged is more like it.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “How many bottles exactly?”

“Enough to tide me over.” Answered the bard vaguely.

“Is there any left?”

His silence was all the answer you needed. You groaned, let your head hit the table, then left it there as your forehead throbbed. Venti, sporting the rare flicker of guilt across a normally jovial face, leaned forward to pat at the back of your head.

“Hey, don’t be down. I have an idea!”

You lifted your head, but your eyes were downcast and dulled. “Is it a bad idea? I don’t think I want to mess with anyone right now, Venti.”

“I thought of the idea, so of course it’s a good one! And we’re not going to mess with anyone.” Venti grinned from ear-to-ear and stood, offering you a single, delicate hand. You gave it a hard stare, wondering what sort of troublesome plans he had brewing in his head. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to come up with a believable excuse as to why you couldn’t indulge him.

Leaving your empty tankards behind, you stood and took Venti’s hand. You stumbled the slightest bit before finding your footing. “What’s your idea, O Great and Fantastical Bard?”

“Since you’re being so kind as to lavish me in well-deserved compliments, I’ll tell you.” He winked at your withering glare. “You’re going to help me compose a song!”

“How is that going to cheer me up? I’m not poetic.” You grumbled. Venti clicked his tongue as he guided you away from the tavern and towards the cathedral.

“That is wildly untrue, Y/N! Everyone is capable of expressing themselves through poetry.” He argued.

“But I’m not good at rhyming or thinking of pretty words.” You countered. Venti sighed and gave your fingers an encouraging squeeze.

“That’s not what it’s about. No one said that poetry was meant to impress people. If it does, that’s a bonus, but the point is to shape your feelings. You write how you feel, not how you want to sound. If you don’t rhyme, that’s fine. If you want to use big words, then by all means! Short words are still words, and they can still carry your thoughts with them. There are no rules with it comes to poetry, no matter what some stuffy scholar might say.” He tugged your hand and pulled your arm up high, leading you into an impromptu twirl. Unable to help yourself, you fell into a fit of laughter that instantly lifted your mood.

“I guess you’re right, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me.” You followed along, a new spring in your step. Venti shrugged.

“Practice means progress!” He clearly wouldn’t allow you to wallow in your negativity, and you were quietly grateful for it. If there was anyone that could lift you out of a funk, no matter how deep and depressing it may be, it would be him. 

Venti lead you past the statue of Barbados and around the side of the cathedral, where he perched on the side of a stone railing. Beyond you sat the lake, it’s surface a constantly shifting sheet of vivid oranges, cheerful yellows, warm reds and sleepy blues. The sun was setting, and soon night would fall, but Venti didn’t seem concerned. If it didn’t worry him, then it didn’t worry you, so you found a seat beside him and made yourself comfortable.

“The breeze is nice.  .  .” You let your eyes fall closed, skin kissed by a gentle twirl of the air against your heated cheeks. You couldn’t see then how Venti’s lips quirked up subtly, an adoration in his eyes that not many earned. He watched you for all of one, still moment before your eyes opened and he was forced to look elsewhere.

“Yeah, it is. So!” Quick to discard the hammering in his chest, Venti pulled forward his lyre and cleared his throat. “About that song——”

“What is it about?”

“Unspoken love, the kind that lives in your chest and makes every moment spent with the person you adore both exciting and painful.” His fingers strummed one string, then another. You frowned, the first few notes squeezing at your heart.

“Why is it unspoken?” You wondered, keeping your voice low.

“Because, sometimes, confessing is more selfish and cruel than never saying anything at all. Because opening up one’s heart may lead to more pain than you first expect.” The melancholy notes only proved to add more hurt to your chest, but still the bard smiled.

“Do you really want to write a song that sad?” You weren’t sure that your flimsy mood could handle thinking about such a morose subject.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand, dear friend~ The reason for love’s silence is upsetting, but the love itself is anything but!” Venti began to swing his legs, and you felt the breeze pick up. Green eyes turned up towards the sky, while a subtle tinge of pink touched his cheeks. “I’ll think of the first few lines, then you chime in with whatever your lovely little mind and heart think of first. Alright?”

“If you say so.”

“Great!” Skilled fingers began to play, the heart of the music beating in time with your own. “I want it to start like this: I want always to treasure your warm soul and kind eyes.  .  .”

You waited for more, but were met with a calm quiet. A single glance from the bard, and you suddenly felt as is everyone in town could hear and see you. Face burning hot with embarrassment, you looked out towards water rather than at your companion.

“I want always to treasure your warm soul and kind eyes. Hmm.” You breathed in deep and muttered the first thing that came into your head. “Every smile and glance like a hard-earned prize.”

“Good! And you said you weren’t skilled at this.” Venti beamed, the sheer glee behind his praise lifting your mood higher still. “Let’s keep going. Next line: Your voice it rings like the sweetest prayer.  .  .”

You thought hard again, arms crossed tight and lips pursed. This was as difficult as you thought it might be, but Venti’s enthusiasm was infectious. So, again you offered the only words that rose to the top of your mind. “.  .  . a blessing from lips so fair.”

Venti hummed, the sound soft and low in his chest. “Indeed they are.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Moving on!” He slipped from the stone railing and came to stand in front of you, posture loose and playful even as he came dangerously close. “I adore you, I do. My heart is yours, it’s true. Little skips and steady pounding, my dear, you are astounding.”

Feeling him so near, his eyes mirthful and intent on you, you couldn’t help but to shrink into yourself a little. You grasped the railing you sat on and hunched your shoulders, eyes glued to your feet. If only those words were meant for you. Oh, but then what would you do?

“Is this meant to inspire other people to think of their love, or are you thinking of someone in particular?” You couldn’t and wouldn’t dare to hope, but you had to ask.

The strumming stopped, but you didn’t turn your gaze up.

“Perhaps I am,” Venti purred coyly, “why? Is there someone you’re thinking about?”

“Don’t be such an imp.” You kicked a foot out, but he was quick to step aside. Your aggression, though harmless, pulled a laugh from the bard. “I might be thinking of someone.”

“Who is it?” Venti pestered. “Do I know them?”

“Maybe.” You sported a cheeky smile of your own. Venti moved in an inch or two more to your side, leaving only a breadth of space between the two of you.

“Do they inspire you?” He asked. You sighed, completely unable to contain the need.

“He does.”

“Oh, so they’re a he, are they? That narrows it down.” He tittered and let himself play a soft, ambient tune. “Does he know how you feel?”

“No way!” You let out a bark of laughter. “Been trying to keep it a secret.”

“Why?” Venti blinked, appearing thoroughly baffled. “He should know!”

“What was it you said? Confessing is selfish sometimes.  .  .”

“Using my words against me. Cruel.” Venti sighed. “You really won’t tell him?”

“Not until it’s right, and not until I’m strong enough to accept the possibility that he might not feel the same.” Your smile was feeble and didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Chances come and go, away with the wind they blow, so I hold these lovelorn words inside my chest, never to be confessed.”

Venti frowned, watching as your fingers pressed and rubbed at the sudden ache right where your heart sat. His own reacted in kind, the horribly familiar grasp of doubt squeezing at his chest. He knew those thoughts and feelings all to well.

“In your heart the feelings run deep, but darling, don’t put them to sleep.” He reached out again when you dismissed his lyrics with a scoff, only this time you didn’t hesitate to place your hand in his. He didn’t drag you away from where you sat, but let his fingers slip between yours. Your heart stuttered a moment, the gentleness of the gesture filling you with gratitude and trace amounts of confusion.

The breeze picked up again, and you thought you could still hear the gentle song of the lyre despite him being preoccupied.

“Look at me.” He voice dropped to a whisper, so soft and airy that you almost didn’t catch it. But when you did, you bashfully locked your gaze with his. The sweetest smile pulled at his lips, the glimmer in his eyes so sincere that it made your own eyes prickle at the very corners.

Why did you have to fall for someone like him? Why couldn’t you have fallen for someone forgettable, or someone that wasn’t almost always within reach?

“Listen to my words, find them true, only a moron would reject you. You are wanted, loved and adored, you are more precious than any treasure hoard.” Venti arched himself forward, his forehead meeting with yours. Music continued to play in your ears, making the air around his words sweet. Could you believe them when they came from someone as flighty as him? You wanted desperately to, but you had to argue, to contest his open fondness for you.

“By the time the day is done, you’ll have said that to everyone.” You countered. Venti couldn’t hold back a laugh, his head moving away from yours. Already, you regretted sassing him. Come back, stay close.

“You’re getting better at that. While it’s true that I love to sing peoples praises, what I give you aren’t throwaway phrases. You’ve caught me, dear heart, and I want to surrender, allow me to bask in your unending splendor.”

You snorted and gave him a harmless shove. Venti grinned and gave in to your push, but he was near again in an instant.

“It can’t be that hard to believe that someone would love you. Don’t you believe me?” His question hung heavy in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth opened and closed, and each time your words failed you. Only after a long moment of listening to you stammer did Venti cautiously lean in. “Should I be selfish?”

“What does it mean for a bard to be selfish?” After a moment of mental screaming, you felt a smirk tease at your lips, but it was short lived. “Aside from drink all his wine before sharing it with someone?”

“Selfish bards do many, many things.” He spoke slowly, making sure each word dragged and lured you in. “I’ll admit it was silly to drink all the wine without you, but I can make up for it.”

You hummed contemplatively, each passing second tugging you closer and closer.

“How?”

“More wine?” He offered. You pulled a face.

“Mmmn, maybe. And?” Your mind was numb at this point, the idea that you two were so close making every inch of your body squirm. You had only daydreamed of sappy little scenarios like this, so living one out felt too good to be true. You were waiting to wake up, in fact, because this couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be tempting the idea of confessing to you when the entire world of Teyvat could offer him better.

“Songs written just for you?” Venti’s grin broadened, but there was a hitch in his breath when you nudged the tip of your nose against his.

“Anything else?” You egged him on, catching a flare of darker green in his eyes. He said nothing, but the way he moved his hand to touch your cheek spoke volumes. “How about a share of the apples you pick every day, or some mora, or——?”

“You’re talking too much.” He muttered, lips only a fraction away from yours.

“That’s rich coming from you.  .  .”

His breath was warm and welcome and mingled with yours for all of one second before you felt the notion of a kiss. It was then that the bell above the cathedral chimed, it’s proximity and the intensity of the clap jarring you and the bard from your shared trance. You jerked away, flushed and wide-eyed, while Venti clicked his tongue. Vexed, he glared up towards the cathedral.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I need to go.” You scrambled from your spot, heart hammering so hard in your ears that it almost drowned out the sounds of the bell. “I forgot to see Katheryne about the commission!”

Venti arched a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.” You vaulted over the railing and contemplated running off without another word, but it didn’t feel right. Rather than succumb to cowardice and embarrassment, you turned to face the bard. “Tomorrow. We’ll do this again, I promise, and.  .  .”

“And?”

“We’ll finish where we left off.”

“I was hoping you’d say that!”

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Finale

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 10 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; slight reference to past sexual abuse; fluff 

Word Count: 6,700+

Author’s Note: Guys... the finale! I’m crying actual tears lmao. Thank you for reading my words. It means the world.

~

The New Compound, July 2025, 7:09pm

      The extra hour of sunlight this time of year was the easiest excuse to use for lounging on the roof to watch the sun set slowly. The compound no longer touches the clouds, but it still provides a rich view of the landscape across. There is no blowing of horns or shouts of the road hecklers; it’s a simple hour of solace to rest your chin against your arms, eat your snacks, and watch the sky change colors until nothing remains but the possibility of counting the stars. 

“Hey… can I sit here?”

Your heart does a little jump at the sound of his voice. Traitor, you want to say to the pesky organ, but remain quiet as Steve wanders over to stand by you. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Do what you will, Captain.” It’s simple enough of a response, you figure. You look down at the granola bar in your hand, turning it over a few times before rolling your eyes at the silly gesture. “Granola bar?”

He nods, watching as you snap it in half, and grabs the piece. “Thanks.”

You eat in cooperative silence. You take small bites, saving the granola bar so you have something to focus on during the length of time Steve decides to stay up here. He seems to be doing the same. “So what brings you out here? Another depressive episode?”

“I happen to have the perfect amount of depressive episodes, thank you very much.”

You snort, “Ditto.”

He takes a small bite and rolls the granola over his tongue. “No, I uh… I actually came out here to watch the sunset.”

“That’s sweet.” You shrug and admit your reason to him without a second thought. “I came out here to be sad, so.”

“Thor’s visit isn’t doing you any good?”

Thor is genuinely looking better. He’s started braiding his hair again, exercising with the help of Quill and Bruce, and participating in conversation without being addressed first. Seeing him makes you happy, but there’s still a glint in his eyes that reminds you of the lowest point of his life. And his lowest point was also yours. Sometimes you just want to forget. “He looks better. Healthier, got some light back in his eyes. It’s just whenever we look at each other we think of the same thing, I guess.”

Steve hums low and his shoulder brushes yours. “Loki.”

“It’s good to reminisce and all but I’ve got my limits,” you say.

“What was the special connection between you and Loki anyway?”

You grin at such an innocent question. Steve had never been close to Loki, didn’t really like him much, but he tolerated the God wandering about. You figure he genuinely wants to know. “I met him a little bit before I was assaulted. Everyone in the compound had their suspicions but no one asked. It was like they were avoiding me but also trying to help, I don’t really know. It was a weird time. And Loki, after we caught that dragon thing and really, really properly met, just straight up asked me why I was so distant all of a sudden.” Your chest warms at the memory.  “I told him. And you know what the first thing he said to me was?”   

Steve shakes his head a little and his eyes follow the tilt of your mouth. “‘What a cunt’.”  

He startles himself into a laugh, the rough word not expected. You continue, “It was the first time I laughed in four months.”

Steve follows your gaze out to the sunset. He suddenly feels guilty, out of the loop, sad. You had only mentioned your assault to him once when you discovered Tony’s afterlife gifts, and he never brought it up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were-”

“Bucky had just moved into the tower and all of your attention was on him. I don’t blame you for not seeing me.”

It’s true, but Steve doesn’t forgive himself. He’s had two years to check up on you and because of his own selfish choice, he’s let you slip from his fingers. A question bubbles from the back of his mind — one that he doesn’t think twice about finally asking. If he does, he won’t ask.  “Do you miss… me?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Sam put the idea in my head and—”

You sigh, “Steve, it’s the fact that he had to put the idea in your head. I can lie and say I’ve been all fine and dandy, or I can tell the truth and say I’ve been all fine and dandy. Take your pick.”

Steve stares at you for a long moment, mouth parting around invisible words. You’re staring at the sunset, avoiding his gaze but aware of his eyes on you, and he misses you. He truly, terribly, misses you. He decides he’s got nothing more to lose — he’s already lost you. “Well, I miss you. Do with that what you will.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes: wind in your ears, legs shifting when too much weight has been applied, tiny sniffs of the nose. You don’t really know what to do with that information. Steve misses you. And you miss him. But he doesn’t deserve to know that. There’s been no apology from him, just things he’ll do to appease Sam. 

At the three minute mark, you groan quietly and turn to him. “Are you seriously still going to watch the sunset up here?”

Steve smirks and watches you from his peripheral. He really has missed being on the receiving end of your various tones of voices. “I have been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

His company isn’t all that bad.  

Present Day, 2025, 9:07am

      Perhaps there were good things that came from being locked up for over two weeks, alone. Last time you were locked up with the team and there was absolutely no special treatment after that. Now you’re resisting the urge to burst out laughing as Steve piles on the seventh massive pancake on your plate; or rolling your eyes as Sam keeps asking if you want more maple syrup — ‘What flavor? We’ve got six!’ — and Peter’s drowning Bucky with questions about who he encountered at the wedding. 

“Is it the same as Netflix Narcos?”

“No,” you say bluntly. 

“Is the Amazon series legit? Like, did Omar really kill the DEA agent?”

“No.”

“Is Omar as evil as they say?”

“No.”

“Damn,” Peter groans, piling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “Nothing’s as exciting as it seems, huh?”

Everyone looks to him, then to each other.

Steve clears his throat, “I was literally shot.”

Mouth full, you follow. “And I was abused for years.”

“And I had to deal with them while with HYDRA,” Bucky says with his mouth full too.

“Man, they shot at me. That counts,” Sam adds.

“And I finally got to use the shield. While being shot at,” Scott says.

You interject, “Technically I was being shot at.”

Even with such a cloud of violence, with gruesome memories — memories that would just be shoveled into the pile of things that no one is ever going to talk about again  — you all begin laughing. Poor Peter missed out on a lot, but he can put two and two together. He knows this is his only chance to ask before you all lock it away and call it just another mission. It doesn’t hurt to humor him. 

And even though you won’t mention it to any one else unless they ask — this wasn’t just another mission for you or Steve. Things have changed and the both of you know it. The aches within your chest are no longer negative or a bother, but instead are blooming flowers that have laid dormant for years. You’ve been plucking petals for as long as the two of you can remember, and it’s about damn time you both end up on the same page. 

Everything has been quiet. Sure, there are bounties on everyone’s head but when is there not? You’ve pissed off more cartel leaders and gang leaders and political enemies than you can count on two hands, so this enemy territory is not all that foreign. You recognize the high trees, the gray skies, the mud beneath your boots. But you’ve got friends on your team that know how to climb those trees; friends on your team that know how to move the clouds and make the sky the talk; friends on your team that would hump through mud and snow watching your six. 

You can’t believe you even thought about leaving after the mission in the first place. This is where you belong, where all of you belong, because you’re the only ones with good hearts who qualify for the job. 

As breakfast winds down, Steve takes the opportunity to sprinkle in moments of long-awaited public displays of affection. When you go to refill your orange juice, he sneaks a kiss on your cheek. When you go to wash your plate, he makes sure Peter is looking the other way before patting your ass. And when you’re the one to envelope his slim waist from behind, he melts in your combined warmth.  

“So, about our date,” Steve inquires, cheeks turning pink but voice unwavering. He looks brand new, refreshed, and there’s a shine in his eyes that you haven’t seen since forever. You can’t remember the last time you have, but you figure it must have been back when the world hadn’t yet swallowed him whole. Now, he’s burning bright with the youth his soul has missed. 

You jump up and down, “Ooo, exciting!”

Steve takes you by the waist, swinging you in every direction. It’s uncoordinated, messy, and not exactly dancing but it’s pure. “Chinese? Pizza? Just fries?”

“¿Por qué no los tres?” Pursing your lips, you wait for his answer. 

“That can be arranged.”

You gasp dramatically, “You’re spoiling me.”

“Well I have two years to make up for it.”

That startles a laugh from deep inside your chest. “That’s gonna be our inside joke now, huh? Two of the worst years of our lives and we’re joking about it.”

He blushes along with you. “I think that describes our relationship perfectly.”

“Our relationship…” Your voice comes out like a melodic whisper and Steve feels it in his bones.

He grins down at you but before he can respond, someone enters the common room rather cautiously. 

“Oh, now what the hell are you doing here?” Steve demands, pushing you to stand behind him. The gesture is nice, but completely unnecessary. Friday would have alerted the team if someone entered the grounds armed. 

Agent Kavert raises his hands, “Relax. I’m not here to arrest you or anything.”

Steve tries to move his shoulders in a way where Agent Kavert can’t see your head. But you maneuver around him, somehow ending up peeking your head through Steve’s underarm. “If I know the law, and I think I do, you can’t really arrest someone in their own house anyway, right?” You pat Steve repeatedly on his side. “Right?”

Before Steve can respond, Agent Kavert speaks. With Steve guarding you, it seems the only thing Agent Kavert wants to do is get in and get out as fast as he can. “I just came to apologize. Ballistics came back and the evidence does show that you didn’t kill Ernesto Vega. It was Ramirez’s issued gun.”

Yeah, you think. The gun Seda stole.

“Oh, what a breath of relief! I almost forgot I was there.”

He sighs and his lips pull into a small smile. “You’re not gonna tell me where Ramirez is, huh?”

Steve takes this as his cue to leave you two alone, but not before squeezing your hand on his way out. He nods over to Peter, who’s still crouching in the kitchen, unseen by Kavert. Peter gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up,  happy to spy for his Captain. But you know he’s really asking Peter to take care of you while he’s gone.  

You let out a heavy sigh. Omar has been wanted for years for another murder he didn’t even commit. And now, he’s wanted for another. He may be a giant with morals, but even he can’t escape the gruesome reality that plagues the wicked. 

“I don’t even know where he is. If you came looking for answers—”

“No, I just… Everything’s been so fucked up since half the universe came back. And the possibility of an Avenger being bad, having played us for years — I think it just scared a lot of people.” Agent Kavert actually looks sincere. He adjusts his footing and chuckles a little under his breath. There’s a fine line creasing his forehead, but it isn’t formed from stress. He’s smiling, an honest look, and his eyebrows pull inward. “And Shakespeare? Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug and lean back against the counter. “When half the world disappears and takes your family and friends with it, there’s really not much else to do.” 

And besides, Loki was really into Shakespeare.

You continue, deciding at the last second to throw Agent Kavert a bone about your past. “Shield didn’t know but Nick Fury did. So did Pierce. And when Shield fell, Fury just hid it even more.” You give him a half smile. “We weren’t helping the cartel. We were slowly taking it apart.”

Agent Kavert nods, thinking it over. “The deal Jackeline made with us was pretty simple. She’d tell us all the inside secrets that she knew and in exchange, no charges against her and none so serious for you.”

Your shoulders slump and you shoot him a blank stare. “Was it really that simple? Like, I could have just used her as my one free call?”

“Joke all you want. You should have called us when Shield fell. The double agent thing was risky and everyone needs help taking down a giant like that.”

“I did have help. Involving more people was never planned.”

“He was just as much our mission as he was yours.”

Agent Kavert, as sorry as he looks, still doesn’t seem to get it. But that’s fine, you think. Not everyone can. And you’re not in the mood to argue anymore. “No… he wasn’t.”

He seems to read your mind because he simply accepts your answer. “I really am sorry for accusing you. And for the government arresting you alone and letting the white man go free.”

A tiny snort tickles your nostrils. Agent Kavert is white, and it’s even more amusing considering he’s being serious. “Thanks… I guess.”

He turns to leave, seemingly normal, until he spins on his heel and claps his hands. “Oh! And by the way — don’t leave the country. The charges of conspiracy and murder have all been dropped. But there’s evidence of drug smuggling. So, you’re on house arrest.”

Your eyes widen and you reply with a sarcastic yell. “Thanks!” He turns to leave again. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

He glances over his shoulder, “Could not have let you just get away with it. Some of that smuggling was under no order from Shield at all.”

“You know I can easily disable that ugly ass ankle bracelet you’re about to give me?”

He chuckles low, and finally waves goodbye. “Goodbye, Agent Y/LN.”

You stand dumbfounded, slightly annoyed, but you figure it’s better than actual jail time. Peter rises from his hiding spot and walks over to you, blowing air from his mouth. “Friend of yours?”

You whip around to point a finger, scream and laugh mixing into one. “No friend!”

Peter finally hears that accent Steve can’t stop talking about.

       It’s a tiny portrait, sealed in a tiny frame and hidden in a tiny room. The frame is black with professional wooden carvings that make the sides look like perfectly detailed tree trunks. It’s in between the portrait of Tony and Natasha’s bracelet. Tony wears the same AC/DC shirt Steve has somehow stolen and claimed as his own. He’s got this sarcastic grin, some type of wrench in one hand while his other rests on his hip. He stands in his lab, glasses pushed up onto his head and black soot smudged on his cheek. You think Peter snapped the photo back in 2017. 

But the middle portrait is your favorite. It’s the only photo he ever allowed to be taken of him. Brushing your index finger against the glass, you trace the small outlines of Loki’s jawline, to his thin pink lips, to the bulb of his nose, to the waves of his hair. He sits caught off guard, book in his hand and in regular human clothing. He shoots a rather annoyed but joyful look over his shoulder as the camera was shoved in his face. You know for sure Wanda took that photo.

“You’re not dead,” you say as you study the blue of his frozen eyes. A God doesn’t die, you remember him saying. Loki was wrong about a lot of things, but you pray he wasn’t wrong about this. There’s a small part of you that wants to speak the same words to Tony and Natasha, but there’s only so many times the world’s axis can shift for a miracle. You tap the glass, sighing a breath of acceptance, and finally let go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Smiling up at the ceiling, you think you’re right about this one.

      It’s quiet. The only sounds are the mild ripping of wrapping paper and small ‘thank you’s’ from the team. Everyone got each other something — granted, everyone got something small for everyone. No matter how much Tony joked about still splurging on Christmas shopping, his promises weren’t exactly kept. He’s gotten everyone things they actually need or wanted. Steve, a new drawing pad; Natasha, a bright pink knit sweater; Rhodey, a new watch; Bruce, a pair of sunglasses; Nebula, a dark blue knitted sweater that she immediately presses against her cheek, eyes focused on the ground as she savors the soft brush; you, the full collection of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets. And he finally presents the baby’s crib to Pepper, constructed three weeks after she originally asked him to. 

“I know how much you like to reenact A Midsummer Night’s Dream in your room,” Tony grins at you. Biting your bottom lip, you throw yourself at him and hug him tight. He returns the hug with just as much strength, if not more. 

As the night goes on and midnight rings, your small group exchanges tight-lipped merry Christmas’s and happy holidays. Natasha retires to her room, a distant look in her eyes as she says goodnight. No one knows where Clint is.

Steve nudges your elbow with his once the room empties. He holds out a box with festive wrapping — snowmen with carrots for noses and a variety of pebbled smiles. “From me and Okoye.”

“You got me a gift?”

Steve’s brow furrows as he nods like it’s obvious. “Of course. You’re my friend.”

“Well, now I feel inadequate,” you laugh. It comes out wet and it’s then that you realize you’re tearing up. “I promise to reenact Midsummer for you, okay?”

Steve chuckles, “You got it.”

You unwrap it slowly, half wondering why Steve and Okoye teamed up to get you a present. You. Your stomach churns an innocent whirl. 

It’s a long sleeved vest… or sweater. You can’t really tell until you pull it from the box. It’s intricately designed and it takes a moment for you to finally see it, to finally understand, and the moment you do you exhale a wracked breath. 

It’s not Wakandan fashion. It’s threaded with the colors and swirls of a place you haven’t called home in years. It has red flowers down the vest portion and multicolored rows down the sleeves and back. It’s made from a thick fabric that’s rarely used this century. Vintage — home.

“Steve…”

Steve clears his throat, “Now, I only did the flower parts. Okoye found it unfinished in… um…”

And there, where tags from brands would usually be, is a small threaded engraving. 

‘From Bucky, To our muñeca.’

“He didn’t get to finish it so I thought I would — you know, help? — so it’s really from Buck. Probably an apology for not letting you visit him in Wakanda.”

Steve tries to push out a laugh at his poor joke, but you can see how he’s faltering. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down so his knees bend, and pour as much nonverbal thank you’s into the hug. He hesitates at first, arms floating awkwardly, until he swallows his fear and wraps his arms around your waist. He holds you to him tightly and breathes in the sweet scent of your vanilla shampoo. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is small, but Steve regards the delivery as powerful.

You wear it once, that Christmas night, enveloped in its warmth as you slept. In the morning, you hang it in the back of your closet. 

        A knock on your bedroom door sounds through your headphones. Bucky peeks his head in, “Is now a bad time?”

Sitting up, you pull the headphones from your ears. “Nope. Just thinking about how I’ve lived several years in the span of one week.”

Bucky lugs in a sports bag in one hand and a manila file in the other. He places them at the edge of your bed and proceeds to bounce in the available space near you. “Yeah, that can be annoying.”

You attempt to shove him away as he tries to steal your blanket. “Did you need anything?”

“Yeah.” He lets you take it, and simply turns on his side to face you. “What’s gonna happen between you and Steve?”

It’s an innocent question, but you know Bucky well enough to notice when he’s stressed. Steve probably told him to mind his business. “We’re good.”

He inspects your face with squinted eyes, “I know what you’re thinking so cut that shit out. This isn’t one of those missions where the feelings will just go away.”

“Funny thing is, I believe you,” you admit, watching as his face does something unexpected. His smile drops suddenly, like he didn’t expect you to agree with him, and then it’s immediately back full force. 

“Peggy and Steve - right person, wrong time. You and Loki - right person, wrong time. You and Steve, all those years ago — right person, wrong time.” A weird thing happens: you agree with him again. “But now, after everything — right person, right time.”

“It’s just weird feeling like it’ll actually work.”

“That makes us seem like we’re all broken, doll. We’re not.”

You turn so you’re facing him; two mismatched parentheses. “We’re just tired.”

“We’re just tired,” Bucky agrees, smiling. “I’m not saying don’t look over your shoulder whenever you feel like it. Hell, I still look over mine.”

Snorting, you roll closer to hug him. He pulls you into his chest. “You give amazing pep talks.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why they gave that trophy to Steve.” Bucky shares the intimate moment for as long as it takes before the blanket starts overheating. He groans as he sits up to retrieve the things he brought with him.  “By the way, our mutual friend sends one last warm regards.”

Bucky throws the sports bag onto your lap. “What’s this?”

“Your shit.”

You don’t even want to ask him how he packed your things without your knowledge. “Kicking me out, Barnes?”

“Clothes, toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner, pads, the quilt I just finished knitting thank you very much,” Bucky lists and hands you the file. “Maribel found him.”

“Ramirez?”

“Your dad.” 

You snap your head up to look at him. Bucky expects to see anger, hurt, maybe even betrayal. He was prepared for it. But you just look confused, lost for words, maybe even scared. “Goes by Richard these days. Lives with his wife in Wisconsin, no kids, keeps to himself.” 

You flip through the files, holding your breath. The file is small, Richard’s information only covering the first page, the rest just drabble. He seems relatively normal, looks normal even; normal job, normal credit score, normal upbringing. It doesn’t even seem real. You close the file and set it aside. “So you are sending me away?”

Bucky smirks, “It’s a suggestion. But I took the liberty of doing the hard part for you.”

“Yeah, because packing my lady products is the climax of this story.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that Bucky called Richard your ‘dad’. Everyone either referred to Ernesto as ‘your father’ or by his name. Steve had said ‘dad’ a few times before he met him, then he never said it again. Hell, even you did sometimes. 

It’s a sweet distinction and you’re certain Bucky said it on purpose. Bucky takes your hands in his, “It’s been a long time coming. But at least we can both say that the people who hurt us can’t hurt us any longer.” 

You can. You really can.

       Bucky’s already packed Steve’s shit as well. Steve’s just shoving extra socks into his bag when someone knocks on the door. He expects Bucky or Sam, final words of encouragement, but it’s Scott. And he’s standing there grinning like a mad man. 

“So, what’s the verdict, Rogers? You going after her or not?”

Steve huffs a laugh, “Think you already know the answer to that, Lang.”

Scott closes the door behind him and leans back against it. He shoves his hands in his sweater pockets, “Not that it should matter, shut me up if I cross any line, but everyone supports this.”

“Weirdly, I think it does matter. We’ve had you guys picking sides for two years. Selfishly. Like we were having a fucking civil war after everything.”

“Yeah, well.” 

Steve huffs a laugh. It’s always going to surprise him just how comfortable Scott is around him now. Not afraid to tease him or call him out on something he doesn’t agree with. It’s refreshing.

“I’m not giving up on her, Scott. Not again.”

Scott nods. Perhaps breaking the mission ethic code wasn’t a bad thing after all, Scott thinks. He gives Steve a proud smile, genuine. “Then I hereby declare our hanging conversation officially closed.”

        Steve wanders from his bedroom, to the conference room, to the main living room without an end destination in mind, seeming to just follow his quick feet as they lead him around the halls of the compound. He’s proud of himself, really, because he truly believes he’s learned to swallow his pride, has opened himself up to the possibility of being happy, and accepted that the world has changed and will continue to alter whether he likes it or not. He was, is, and will always be a man out of time — he’ll never fit but goddamn does he feel settled. He hasn’t felt this sane since before the war — which one? — so he relishes in the feeling for a few calm seconds. 

He feels tears well-up on his water line and feels the pressure in his temples. He’s at a crossroads — both proud of himself for finally choosing the path he wants and relieved that this week, this mission he has dreaded for almost ten years, is over. He doesn’t know if he should sleep for a month or occupy his time with other things awaiting repair. A build up of five years, grief and loss and happiness all weirdly mixed into one pot, and Steve simply hasn’t noticed the improper portions of each ingredient. 

It’s too much.

He thinks about his mental health. Shot to Hell, he jokes with himself. He’s already got the virtual therapy appointments scheduled. He figures he’ll get better with time and if Steve knows one thing for sure, it’s that he’s got a whole lot of that.

He thinks about Sam and Bucky and Scott — his three best friends that have gone to the ends of the Earth and back for him, and who would proudly do it all over again. He thinks about their kind words, their gentle touch, their devotion that Steve still sometimes feels he doesn’t deserve. 

And he thinks about you. To anyone else, this was written in the damn stars. No, there wasn’t anything extremely obvious in the first few years. You were friends. Friends that grew to consider each other teammates. Teammates that drew a drop of blood while fighting on opposite sides. Teammates that recognized the true endgame, teammates that helped each other escape, teammates that went silent for two years. Two years of no contact, no signal of survival. Then again, teammates who stood by as their world crumbled around them. Teammates who grew to be friends again, leaning on free shoulders and seeking help through happy conversations and long nights. Friends that brought the world together again, only to rip each other from their own. Friends into the most bizarre of enemies. And enemies back to teammates. 

Steve wipes a hand down his face as he fixes the strap over his shoulder. The common room is empty — he likes it this way. That means everyone is either napping, getting food, visiting friends or family, simply living life. The silence is therapeutic. 

His eyes fall on a crooked picture frame near the television. He tries to ignore it, almost to the door and ready for another road trip, but he steps back. Then forward, then back again. He groans in frustration of himself and moves to turn the frame back in place, holding it for a few seconds until it stays. But as he lets go, it tilts once more. He tries again — it tilts back. 

He pulls the frame from the hook and turns it over. He rightly freezes, the presence of a small pink paper airplane taped near the edge knocking the wind from his constricting lungs. He pulls it off, careful to not tear the delicate post-it. 

He never found it. Natasha probably placed it behind this very picture frame in the other compound for him to find. Surely the explosion should have destroyed it — but it didn’t. It’s right here, perfectly intact, just a smudge of dirt on one of its wings. The frame hadn’t been damaged either. It’s real. 

He holds the thin piece of paper like it’s the most precious thing in the world. 

Steve turns it over between his fingers a few more times, before he carefully folds it back in half and puts it in his wallet. “You’ve got some nerve, Nat. But I hear ya.”

       Steve decides to write you back. He hides the letter in that sweater he knows you don’t wear anymore, in the far back of your closet, and marvels at the intricate stitching while he can. He poured his heart out, even if it’s not guaranteed you’ll ever see it. 

     ‘Yes, I found your letter. I found it when I was looking for perfume in your suitcase. The tape was loose and I violated your privacy. I’m truly sorry for that. 

But I felt compelled to write you back, in case the reverse happened and I died instead of you. I didn’t write it then, when you were drying your hair in front of that impossibly small mirror you so weirdly called ‘a stupid little bitch’. And you looked so beautiful. But I’m writing it now and maybe I’ll share it with you in person when we’re both ready.      

When the world turned to dust, I held on to you. I know exactly why. Natasha bugged me about it also, teasing me whenever I would glance at you too long, or give you the last remaining Oreos I was planning on eating, or whenever I would leave your room in the mornings after a nightmare. She knew nothing was happening between us, but she had this smile whenever she caught me. Like she was happy I was comforting you, and in turn seeking comfort for myself. 

You remember how her smile would tilt up more on the left side? 

There isn’t a proper way to truly apologize for hurting you. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it. You at least deserve that. 

I returned a different man. And I think that was for the better.

Yes, I wanted the quiet life. I still think I do. And I think you know this — you have always seen right through me.      

I now know what Natasha saw. You irritate me, you damn near make me want to choke myself out, but I care for you. We hold each other up, and I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.      

You’re my best friend — I hope I’m one of yours.

Steve.’

       There’s no one currently in the compound who really knows how to change the battery in your car. Bucky tries, does a rather good job too, but he claims he’s winging it and that you should call a mechanic just in case. He leaves you there with two random batteries on the ground, hood of your car open, and without any idea of what to do next. So you chill and wait for the mechanic you hope isn’t going to jack up the price just because he knows who you are. 

But he doesn’t seem fazed by you at all — or at the fact he just had to drive through countless checkpoints and security checks just to get on Avengers property. He changes the battery and changes the oil, hooking you up with as many upgrades he can. He even offers to wash it until you thank him repeatedly and that Really, really, you don’t have to do that. Thank you so much!

“Quite a garage you got here.”

There are unfinished projects and random wires falling from the ceiling and enough tools to supply five garages. It’s messy, but it was Tony’s. You accept the compliment and see him out. 

“Eh, make sure those windshield wipers work. I hear it’s gonna rain tomorrow.”

You thank him again. The clouds to the west are gray, getting darker as the expanse stretches, but from where you’re standing everything’s blue. You figure the mechanic was right: it’s gonna rain, and it’s gonna rain hard. 

The mechanic did good, all things considered. You never thought your old, beat-up Honda could look a few years younger. You flick one of the wipers lightly, testing its strength. It holds, as does the other, but when you go to lift it up it stops halfway. Without wanting to break it, you don’t force it. There’s something blocking the switch. 

You grab it before it can accidentally fall into a deep slot; the figurehead of a man, curly hair and beard that matches Steve’s, who also has a prominent and strong nose. You turn the coin over a few times before looking around the garage, down the street, at the remote area where the mechanic has just left. Standing there, mouth agape, you wonder just how in the world you missed the mechanic placing it there.

You were lacking in the spy department nowadays. Oops.

You know you’re not going to find Ramirez. But him giving this back to you? It was his way of saying he’s alright and that he owes you many thanks. 

You pocket the coin and accept the fact you just got bested.

It should take a few hours before you hit the first motel. Wisconsin isn’t that far, but you do have to pass through about hundred “middle of nowhere’s”. You pull out of the garage and check your mirrors — completely unaware of the super soldier running full speed to the passenger door. Steve carefully throws it open, somewhat aware of his strength, and lands into the seat beside you.

You hit the brakes hard. “Oh my! Rogers!”

Steve sucks in a few heavy breaths, like he literally ran across the compound to make it. “What? I startle you?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing? Aren’t you on house arrest?”

You squint at him, “Touche.” Putting the car in park, you turn your whole body to face him. “Answer my question.”

“Thought you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” Steve asks, expression much more teasing than serious.

“I’ll be gone for three days tops,” you say, waving your hand in the air. Steve smiles at you, seemingly waiting for you to speak again. You roll your eyes, “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

Steve lifts up the small duffel bag you hadn’t seen when he first got into the car. He throws it into the backseat and smiles lovingly at you. “I’ve been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

“Rhodey said that the ankle bracelet they gave me wasn’t a trusted model. Easy to break off, like they did it on purpose.” You lean toward him, holding your chin up with the palm of your hand. “Should be able to drive free for a few weeks before they suspect anything.”

“Already booked us a cabin for Thanksgiving.”

“What makes you think that I even want you to accompany me on this road trip? Did you like the first one?”

Steve clears his throat and mimes like he’s writing on paper. The next words out of his mouth make your legs turn cold. “No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be, there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.”

You blink multiple times, as if that would fix your ears. “...You. Fucking. Didn’t.” Steve reaches over to try and hug you. “No, don’t.” He squeezes harder, smooshing your face in his chest. “Steeeeve!”

“It fell out of your suitcase during the mission and I just… looked,” Steve reasons. He allows you to escape his grip.

“You just looked?”

Steve sighs. He really does look guilty. He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers tickle your skin. “I’m sorry I read it. I’ll get out of this car for real if you want me to.”

You arch an eyebrow, “You’re a little shit, but I’m not mad. No one understands privacy these days.”

Steve smiles wide enough for his dimples to pop and his eyes to crinkle. “I’d follow you anywhere, doll.”

“Anywhere?”

“Just name it.”

Humming low, you lean forward. He follows your direction like you’re a lighthouse beaming with light, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss. He hooks a large hand behind your head to press you to him harder. You smell like that vanilla scented shampoo he loves so much and feels his heart constrict with a pleasant pulse. 

You pull back for air and smile against Steve’s soft lips. 

“Well, I’m headed for the middle of buttfuck Wisconsin—”

“Just drive!”

Bursts of laughter fill the car until you’re past the checkpoints and well onto the long roads. The clouds continue to turn darker but they’re inviting, alluring, and it’s not insane that both of you desire thunderstorms because they remind you of family. 

Steve watches you from the passenger seat, memorizing the contours and edges of your profile. The roots in his heart begin spreading again; the meat of his heart filling with a soothing promise that his time on earth is no longer rootless. He’s dug his feet in, he’s watered all he’s needed to water, and he feels it spreading within him like newly blossomed flowers in the spring. He has a sudden urge to take out his drawing pad to immortalize the way your mouth tilts higher up on the right side when you smile, to record it forever. 

But he’ll remember it. He’ll remember well into this timeline, several years down the road, and even when he’s resting in his grave. So he leans his head back against the seat and chooses to watch the curves of every expression you grace him with. He immortalizes the sound of your voice, the taps of your fingers against the steering wheel, and the accented way you say his name. 

There’s a long drive ahead, but he’s excited for it. He’s excited for you. Steve promises himself that he’ll ask you a million questions, and give you a million answers, and share a million more stories. 

Right now, he just needs to sleep.

~

THE END.

Taglist: @dumb-ass-3 @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise​ @missnighttigress​

[hyper-cryptic]

Nick and Hancock headcanons?

YES...YEEEEES. I am so eager to talk about these two! Especially Nick since I have been talking all day about Hancock, not that I mind of course. 😳

Starting with Nick!

He really likes animals. I have no actual explanation for this, he just looks like the guy that would take in a lot of cats and then have his house infested by stray cats. Ellie loves the cats, but they GOT TO GO.

He literally forgets he has his hat on sometimes.

I feel like he would like going on strolls around DC, for no reason, just to stretch the legs or to take a smoke. It’s calming for him to go around, seeing the city working and people interact with each other. He prefers going out at night, he likes the lights. :)!

He is actually very disorganized with stuff, forgets where he leaves his files, puts files in the wrong places, sometimes doesn't even file a report...I mean, look at his agency, it's a disaster and I adore it. If it wasn't for Ellie, who at least tries to organize when Nick is out, or busy, he would be so lost.

Okay but, he likes rain right? Imagine him just going out to his roof when it's raining and just be there. Maybe he likes it because of how it feels, the bits of pressure on his skin as the raindrops fall, and maybe the calming sound.

He totally meets up with Hancock every once in a while. Just to catch up with stuff. How is the town going? How are the cases going? Mostly casual things.

He is absolutely terrified of Piper, but in the best way. He admires her determination and how brave she is, but god, he wished she slowed down sometimes.

He likes coffee a little bit too much...Tastes good!

I honestly wonder how his vision is. A part of me wants it to be something similar to the V.A.T.S or even the power armor screen, has little colors and a lot of analysis shit. Or normal, full color vision with the analysis shit on, so he can be happier. :)

He really sweet food. He doesn’t eat much, but he likes to get some treats once in a while.

He likes children. This doesn’t mean he would like to be a father though, he thinks he wouldn’t be able to give the kid the attention he needs, and bla bla, you know him. But he sure enjoys spending time with Shaun and chatting with him, or just doing whatever activity. He is just interested in the dumb things the children do, thinks it’s funny. Imagine the feeling you have when you see a cat playing with whatever? Yeah, same feeling.

Likes to play chess...and he is real good at it. Thinks it’s a really fun pastime and enjoys watching your face as he totally beats your ass at chess, that is if you're bad at it. If not, he enjoys a challenge...if you win he’d be really impressed and give you praise, if you lose he keeps his smug face and suggests to try again if you want to.

Continuing that, he is really competitive. He's good sportsmanship, don’t get me wrong but he likes to be able to keep his ego as high as he can.

Would totally accompany Daisy to the library now that is safer, they both have a love for books. He is totally into dumb, noir novellas...You literally can’t tell me I’m wrong.

Now for my self-indulgent part of the headcanons...He has ADD! Yeah, if little habits like smoking would pass down to Nick, why not this? After all, it was a brain scan, it is totally neurological and ADD being a neurological disorder, it would make sense that it passes down to him! This would also explain how unorganized he is, and I got to say it is very interesting how a synth, a literal bot made for work has traits like “forgetting his appointments very often”, plus his impulsivity and fixation with Eddie. Besides, it makes me happy that I can find a character to relate to at that level.

He really enjoys the Silver Shroud plays. Not a super fan, but definitely enjoys the show! It’s something he would be into. (I actually don’t know if this is canon I’ve never heard him say anything about Silver Shroud, but he has some voice lines about it, PLEASE TELL ME, I WANT TO HEAR ‘EM SO BADLY.) Plus, Kent refers to him as “Synth shaped Silver Shroud”, he takes the compliment!

He is a good hugger. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. He might be a good hugger, but he isn’t too sure about them anymore ‘cuz of how his body is built.

His synthetic skin is actually quite soft! Not really soft, but more than expected.

How to break him: literally place your hand on his cheek plus some eye contact and watch him melt onto it. He is pretty much touch starved at this point so any touch will make his heart skip a beat, but do that and he will be at your mercy.

He sends letters to DiMA (obviously once he meets him, accepts him as a brother and isn’t killed) every once in a while to catch up with him! Chase is the messenger. :)!

I just realized that I’ve written lots about Nick already, so! Now Hancock. :D

If he isn’t doing drugs, he’s chewing gum, well...not at that rate, but when he can get his hands on some gum he’ll have some! He really likes it! Mint is his faV. as a funny extra, he didn’t know that swallowing it is...bad, until Sosu or Nick tells him, LMAO.

He would have a pet snake if he could have one. Like really imagine it, he would love reptiles, and know all kinds of stuff about them. He probably really likes Deathclaws.

He knows how to play the guitar. No, I do not have an explanation for this, no I do not accept no for an answer.

He likes very sour or citrus foods, his taste buds are a bit fucked up thanks to radiation, so he likes the fact that the sour taste can make his buds go off the rails. And that’s why he could eat a lemon with a straight face and even enjoy it.

He also really likes coffee, not as much as Valentine but he really likes the strong taste of it! He would drink black coffee and nothing else.

Okay, okay! Last one about food! He is a texture over taste kind of guy, that’s a big reason why he doesn’t like Mirelurk, it’s slimy and weird, no matter how cooked or uncooked it is, he absolutely hates ‘lurk meat. His only exception is boba, he loves boba.

He probably goes around the house only in boxers...because. Doesn’t he give the vibes? Like he would be either shirtless or without pants on relax days or in the mornings.

Autumn is his favorite season. He just likes the orange view of it all, even tho there isn’t much of a change, he does like the chilly breezes that are very common around this season, not cold enough to be annoying but enough to be enjoyable!

He is probably warmer than a normal human because of radiation, so his hands and overall body are warm all the time! (another reason why he likes autumn and cold weather). But yeah! Cuddling and stuff like that are so much more enjoyable with him. :)

His favorite flower might be the carrot flowers there’s around in the ‘whealth. They remind him of the sun *looks at Sole*.

And! That’s all I have for now!! :D

[thcweasley]

Magical

PAIRING : Fred Weasley X Y/N

SUMMARY : After war, Fred trying to make things back to normal again

WARNINGS : none? shitty fluff

WORDS : 1.6k

A/N: i reposted this cos something went wrong lmao.

Im not sure why i really like the whole idea of Fred X Muggleborn!Reader lmao. i know its autumn in most places, but its been super duper hot here lately. Also this might not be 100% accurate of how things supposed to go, but i just got an idea after watching what not to do at the beach. so I hope you enjoy anyways.

AND THANKYOU FOR THE LOVE ON MY LAST FIC OMGGG. Yes ill upload the 2nd part soooooonn!! so don’t you worry~

“Lets go lets go!!” Fred said clapping his hands, signing you to move faster.

“yeah yeah” you mumbled.

It was a month after the war yet everything didn’t seem to falls back to normal. The fact that you almost lose Fred in the battle haunted you. Even though he was still standing in front of you now, present and healthy. Still you couldn’t seem shake off the image of him dying in front of you. At the time everyone was so sure there’s nothing they can do to wake him up.

“I didn’t know you’d be this sad to see me dying Y/N” He managed to let out a laugh.

Fred insisted you both to go to the beach today. You’ve told him once that going to the beach with your family and friends was probably you favourite memory of growing up. Before everything, before Fred, before Hogwarts, before Magic. So he thought itd be fun to relive your memory with you, no wand, no spell, no magic, just the two of you.

“are you sure you wanna do this? I thought you don’t like muggles activities” you asked him swirling around your wand in front of his face.

He grabbed your wand and put it away from you “Yes of course no magic, beach day! Now move your feet before I carry you into the car myself”

“I can’t believe you actually rent a car” you looked at him in disbelief.

“Well I want it to be perfect for you” he laughed under his breath. “Look at this” He pressed a button and suddenly the roof of the car starting to fold. “Just like magic!” He grinned, causing you to laugh.

“oh what did I do to deserve such an amazing boyfriend” you leaned on to the driving seat to give him a kiss on his cheek.

“I honestly don’t know Y/N” He moved one of his hand onto your waist “But I know how you could reward me without any magic involved” He squeeze your bum lightly.

“Focus on the road, Weasley” you rolled your eyes smiling, Slapping  his hand away as moving back to your position. His laughter filling the car

** Fred had taken you to a pretty cool beach. quite crowded too He found a spot and lay some towel so you can sit down.

You both lay down on your towel. Watching the clouds moving, enjoying each other arms. when suddenly someone dis-sand his towel right beside Fred and walk away.

You both sat up immediately, coughing.

“what the hell is that?” you said, with an annoyed tone, looking over to Fred. Wondering why he hadn’t say anything.

You saw Fred rubbing his eye. “you okay?” you raised an eyebrow. Confused

“uhh.. i think there’s sand in my eye” he said still rubbing his eye.

You grabbed his hand. Stopping him from rubbing his eye. “don’t rub it..” you said soothingly. “open your eyes”

he tried to open his eyes, failing. “what do you mean? I cant do it!”

“hey.. calm down” you giggled. You put your fingers between his eye, and open his eyes. You keep your fingers there to stop his eyes from blinking. you blow air in front of his eyes. Hopefully can remove sand from his eyes. “now blink”

he blinked a few times. And then look up at you. He realised how close your faces were. He held your cheek in his palm. Leaning in to kiss you. His lips warm and smooth pressing against yours.

You just smile against the lips, enjoying the moment. Until you heard a loud smack coming from Fred’s direction, causing you to pull away from him. A volley ball hit Freds head.

“sorry mate!” some guy shouted behind him. and running towards you both to pick up the ball.

“yeah no worries” he managed to force a laugh. You dropped your head to the side. Looking at his annoyed face.

“you okay Fred?” you asked him. resting your hand on his head.

“yep.. umm.. lets go for a walk”

**

Fred grabbed your hand, dragging you with him as he ran towards the bridge. He sat on the bridge and patted the space beside him, signalling you to sit beside him. “come on!” he smiled widely.

“Do you want ice cream?” Fred broke the silence.

“sounds great” you said as you want to get up. But he stopped you.

“wait here I’m going to guess your favourite” He scrambles to his feet and kiss your nose before walking away.

As you watched the clouds moved, you can hear the waves and some kids running around. Looking all around you, remembering the reason why you like going to the beach so much. The salty air, the sun and now you’re with the man you love the most. It couldn’t be more perfect than this.

Suddenly Fred appeared beside you. Handing you your ice cream with your favourite flavour.  “here you go ”

“awwww” you looked up at him and peck his lips. “thankyou..”

You were enjoying your ice cream when suddenly Fred groans. You looked up at him and follow his eyes direction, you saw some boys running away laughing. You looked back at him. now he’s touching his head. “dumb kids” He muttered

“Oh god!” you said in shock as soon after you pulled his hand away from his head. His hair covered with ice cream.  then suddenly bursted out laughing.

Fred groaned again “you think its funny?” he narrowed his eyes at you. Fred’s hair, he always sensitive with his hair.

“sorry..” you grinned. You reached your handbag and took your wet tissue. “I don’t know that your mouth moved on to your hair” you giggle lightly. Start wiping the ice cream off his head.

“It’s those lil git” he clenched his teeth.

You giggled lightly, its funny how frustrating this day has been for him.  “what do you want now? Go home?” you smiled at him.

“yeah..” then he instantly added “sorry” he bitted his bottom lip.

“Its okay, Let’s go home” you grabbed his hand and ran towards the car.

**

“my hair, it’s so sticky” Fred said once you got inside the car.

you smiled “its cute though, smells like ice cream.”

“it is not..” He said as he started the car

“whatever” you stuck your arms out the open window, holding it straight like the wing of a plane. But then suddenly you felt a cold flickers of water land on your face making you yelp in surprise at first and then groan loudly.

“Rain?” Fred questioned, painful annoyance in his tone.

You both turned your heads up to face the sky and suddenly the droplets are falling down faster and faster, making you flinch every time it hits you. Within ten seconds, the water is hammering down.

“why it doesn’t work!!” Fred pressed the roof button rapidly. Hoping the roof would start to close itself. “Merlin!” he ran his finger through his hair.

“Hey calm down focus on the road” You replaced his hand with yours, until finally the roof closed itself.

But then suddenly the car stopped. You could see the lights on the car also went off.

“hey, we’re in the middle of the rain why the hell would you stopped?” You laughed not knowing what was happening.

“well this really a cherry on top. What a nice day” he said, sarcastically.

“wh- what happened?”

“I don’t know. Merlin, I really wished I have my wand with me” he muttered. “wait here” he said as he got out of the car.

You took out your phone. No signal what a nice day.

You got out of the car. You saw Fred was standing in front of the car. Muttering loudly.  You shook your head, and ran towards him, hugged him from behind. “im so sorry Y/N I have no idea how muggle car works I don’t know how to fix this” He said as he turn himself around to face you. To his surprise you greeted him with a big grin on your face. “Why are you smiling?” he asks suspiciously, raising an eyebrow

You placed a hand on his cheek. “I was wondering… have you ever been kissed in the rain?”

Fred finally recognising the playfulness in your voice. His frown soon eases up into something less harsh-looking. “I haven’t actually,” he breathed

You closed the gap between you two, kissing him passionately. You feel the water soaking through your clothes as you’re pressed your lips on to his lips as the freezing water dripped down on you both. You grab onto his shirt, starting to shiver. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been happier. Because finally, after a whole month of anxiety, you can just focus on whats happening right now.

You finally separate lips, both catching on your breathes.

Fred strokes a stray raindrop off of your nose. “sorry, this is the worst date ever” he gave you a sheepish smile.

“I don’t think so” you pecked his lips smiling widely, he smiled back.

“are you being sarcastic with me?” he raised his eyebrow playfully.

You shook your head smiling. “For a magic-less day, it was quite magical” AAHAHA im sorry guys this was super cheesy. but.. should we make a part two where we give fred weasley the reward he deserves?

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