#Chess has been gone at the store for over an hour he's not gonna make it

[polyg0re]

And then, on the other side of the spectrum that is depicting Phirun in art:

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and The Profiler (Three)

Chapter Three: Minimal Loss

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: as a heads up, a large part of this chapter is a flashback, separated by ~~~. angst of minimal loss, buckle up y’all it’s getting serious!

Some cases don’t require the whole team to go investigate. Sometimes a few members go out to consult on something and come right back. Apparently, a 911 call had been received from a 15 year old girl saying that a man was sexually assaulting her and other girls her age. The call came from inside a cult’s base and now Spencer and Emily were sent to the ranch to investigate the leader, Benjamin Cyrus. Y/N selfishly wanted to tell Hotch to send someone else in place of him, but she knew Spencer was the least intimidating of the bunch and so it made sense for him to go undercover as a child victim interview expert alongside Emily.

Y/N watched as JJ zoomed straight past her desk and stood behind Derek’s desk, “Morgan.” she said, flicking the volume button of the TV across the room, panic fighting its way through her voice.

Morgan and Y/N’s attention went straight to the news reporter on the TV, “--what is reportedly being called a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado child services has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a French religious group known as Separtatian sect. The raid--”

“JJ, that’s not the ranch Prentiss and Reid--” Morgan said, standing from his desk.

“They’re still inside.” JJ informed.

“HOTCH!” Morgan yelled across from the bullpen, sending panic and goosebumps to every nerve ending in Y/N’s body. All she could think was, not again, please, God, not again.

Suddenly, all the phones of the bullpen began ringing. Y/N was absolutely frozen in her seat, not even aware of the phone on her desk ringing its wire off. It was like the air was heavy and she couldn’t breathe. She was vaguely aware of JJ’s outline as she approached her and placed her hands on her shoulders.

“Y/N. Y/N!” JJ called out as if she’d been calling her name for hours already, for all she knew, she had. Y/N unexpectedly felt a salty bead of water enter her mouth through her lips, she was crying.

“JJ...not again, JJ.” She practically whimpered, shaking her head in disbelief. The blonde’s heart wrenched in her chest as she thought back to the events of Georgia.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re on our way to him right now. We’re going to do our best to get them out. I need you to stay strong for me now, alright? The phone’s going to be ringing a lot, we need you here.” JJ attempted to comfort her and Y/N was quick to compose herself, nodding.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ve got it.” She sniffled, rubbing her cheeks. JJ pulled her into a quick tight hug, well, as tight as she could with her growing belly between them. Y/N squeezed her tight, “You get him back to me safely, JJ.” She whispered and the blonde nodded before taking off with the rest of the team.

“Is she okay?” Morgan muttered to JJ as they speed walked out of the building, secretly wondering if that’s how friends should react to hostage situations.

“I’m not sure.” JJ answered honestly and the two shared a pointed look. 

It was no secret that there was something going on between Y/N and Reid, they knew they held intense feelings for each other, however the team decided to stay out of it...for the most part. Derek, on the other hand, was very good at not missing opportunities to mess with Reid and tease the hell out of him.

It took Spencer a while to get back on his feet, especially after Gideon had departed, but Y/N helped him every step of the way. She drove him to NA meetings whenever she could. She helped him take his mind of things when he was having cravings. She finally, finally agreed to learn how to play chess, even though she was positive she was destined to lose. She’ll never forget how excited he got when she’d offered.

~~~

“Wait--what?” Spencer stopped mid-sip from his morning coffee. The team hadn’t filed in yet, but he was hanging around her desk like he usually did when she told him.

“Yup, you heard me. I’ll let you finally teach me how to play.” Her eyes twinkled with playfulness and he could have sworn his heart swelled twice its size. He was aware that he was gaping at her, but for some reason he couldn’t stop. The thought of sitting across from her so closely and for so long as he tried to teach her the moves was enough to make him forget his words.

“Hello? Earth to Spencer?” She laughed, waving a hand in front of his face. He snapped out of it, blushing.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll teach you! We’re going to have so much fun!” He exclaimed, his face practically splitting in half from his grin. She was about to make a comment about how it wouldn’t be so fun to lose to him (the whole point of not wanting to learn it in the first place), but she decided the genuine excitement on his face was worth more than winning ever would be. 

~~~

She also remembered him practically fangirling to her over David Rossi’s books. He was so excited when the other founder of the BAU joined the team in place of Gideon. Of course, Spencer had read all his books and was more than ready to recite them to her if she wanted him to but she preferred to keep the crime and the gore at a minimum, preferring to hear about Victorian love stories and obscure children’s stories that are told in African villages she’d never heard of before. Rossi was a fairly nice man, much warmer than Gideon but was still somewhat cagey upon joining the team. She didn’t really blame him, he’d left the job only to come back to it years later and find a bunch of younger hotshot agents in the unit he created. At least Rossi took the time to learn her name and smile at her in the mornings. 

Sometimes he’d sit and watch the two interact from his office. He’d assumed they were together when he’d first joined the team, almost a year ago now. Seeing how they leaned into each other when they spoke and maintained such intense eye contact, it just made sense to him. That and the fact that he’d noticed the way Reid was so much more comfortable around her than he was with his team mates. He’d note the not-so-subtle lingering hand touches on arms and the way they chose not to move their knees away from each other if they bumped. But, most of all, what he thought was a dead giveaway, was the way they smiled at each other; they smiled with their whole faces. Spencer’s mood seemed to brighten around her and even though he hadn’t known the young genius for long, he knew that that was a good sign. If he hadn’t seen Y/N and Anderson getting in the same car together, he’d never have guessed that they were together, much less engaged. You don’t need to be a profiler to know what the longing glances across the bullpen meant, though. Or the sad eyes she gave him every time he left for a case. Or the hug she gave that was obviously tighter than anyone else’s when they came back.

Hopefully, he’ll come back this time.

Y/N was practically a mess at her desk after they all left. She was glad that Anderson was currently not around, then she remembered she should be wanting his presence. That is...assuming he brought her comfort. He didn’t. She took calls to try and distract herself from her panic but she found herself freaking out in between them. Her eyes traveled to the far corner of her desk where the book she was currently reading sat. She smiled as she saw the tassel fall from in between the pages of the book. The book felt heavy as she opened it, she slipped the bookmark from in between the pages, and pushed the book aside. The raised letters of her favorite poem felt familiar as her fingertips touched them. She touched the words as if they could seep into her bloodstream and finally calm her. She remembered the day he gave her the bookmark.

~~~

After years and years of participating in the office Secret Santa, Spencer finally got Y/N. He was overjoyed, in fact, he couldn’t wait to give her her gift. He had it meticulously planned out. He was ready. He poured out his heart and soul in a letter first (this took the longest). Turns out, confessing your undying love for someone wasn’t as easy as it looked on screen. With all the letters he’d written in his lifetime, he was positive this one would be no different. But, man, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

 Then, he made the bookmark. Store bought would never impress her. He struggled with finding the right kind of paper and the right kind of string for the tassel, but thankfully Garcia had his back. She even helped him laminate it so it could last, for years and years. The way he wanted to last with her. He printed the words of her favorite poem. One that he’d never forget, and not even because of his eidetic memory. He chose a shiny gold string to represent the strings of fate. He had told her once the ancient Greek myth of the Moirai, the three women responsible for fate. Although he’d gone in way too great of detail, she hung onto every word. He knew she’d remember the story whenever she saw the gold string. He hoped she might pick up on what he was trying to say.

That fate would always bring them together. 

That he knew that she was it for him, but if he wasn’t it for her, that’d be okay, too.

She’d also complained all too often about the nasty coffee at work, claiming that she wished she never tasted the “vile bean juice”. It was enough to shift her off of coffee completely, unless it was from the coffee shop on the corner of Spencer’s street (he took her there a lot and he liked to bring her her favorite drink in the mornings when he wasn’t rushing in). But she’d recently gotten into teas, and was annoyed at her teapot at home because she said it just tasted weird. So of course, he researched the best kind of teapot possible and hunted every single kitchenware store in DC down until he found it. She’s gonna love it.

To top it all off, he decided to get her a necklace. While looking for the teapot, a small silver necklace caught his eye in one of the shops. A small birthstone hung by two chains, he recognized it as her own, and it was perfect. 

He placed the gifts and the letter inside the teapot carefully and placed two pieces of tape to ensure the top doesn’t come off in the box before making his way to Garcia’s apartment. It was really no surprise she decided to host the Christmas party, considering her love of all things Christmas. He was buzzing with nervous energy as he set the gift box under the tree. He was the first to arrive, which meant he had to endure Garcia’s endless questions about the finished gift. She pried it all out of him, even the letter. Garcia was practically jumping up and down as he told her about the contents of the letter. He didn’t know he and Y/N were such a hot topic around the office. A few minutes later, the team flowed in, one by one. Y/N and Anderson were the last to arrive.

But something felt different as they entered the apartment. Her smile was brighter than usual and she seemed extra comfortable around her fiance. He thought maybe he was reading into it too much, but then even Emily noticed.

“Woah, Y/N! You look literally radiant, what’s going on?” She asked as the couple struggled to find places to sit. Anderson found a seat on the couch and offered her his lap. Spencer watched as she blushed and pursed her lips shyly, leaning into her fiancé as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Spencer practically had a nervous ugly green creature growing inside of him. He’s decided to name him Carl. Might as well name him, you know, since he seemed to be around a lot lately. He shifted in his seat a little, which made Morgan glance over at him.

“Well, we were going to wait until later to tell everyone, but I guess that’s the downside to being friends with profilers.” She laughed and shared a look with Anderson, whose hand was grasped tightly in hers. 

Spencer noticed her change in vocabulary, she said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’. He grew more and more nervous as the pause lengthened. He had to physically put his hands on his knees to keep them from bouncing.

“We finally set the date! Next August!” She exclaimed and Spencer’s heart absolutely combusted in the same exact moment. 

He immediately drowned out the cheers of congratulations and kisses on cheeks. The sinking feeling in his chest seemed to strive for more. More destruction. 

He was vaguely aware of Morgan grabbing his shoulder and giving him a pointed look, reminding him of his silence. Morgan felt bad for the kid, but didn’t want to embarrass Y/N. Spencer snapped out of his trance and swallowed heavily.

“Congratulations, guys.” He mustered a smile and she beamed at him.

“Thanks, Spence!” He barely registered it.

It was finally happening. 

The wedding. 

And he’d have to go.

And see her.

And smile at her like his heart hadn’t been ripped from his chest and placed at the altar for everyone to see as it beat for absolutely no reason.

Seriously, what was the point of his heart beating if it wasn’t beating for her?

Except, he knew it’ll always beat for her, even if she didn’t want it.

He’d have to watch her marry another man.

Watch as she walked away from him rather than toward him.

Everyone pretended not to look at Spencer but he could feel the glances anyway.

Oh no.

The letter.

The letter that was in the teapot under the tree! 

Spencer didn’t know his heart was capable of beating as fast as it was. He sent a panicked look to Penelope, hoping she’d get the message, but she was too busy coming up with wedding ideas. Spencer could feel panic oozing out of the pores of his skin. Morgan took him aside and into the kitchen.

“Kid, you alright?” Morgan asked, watching as his younger teammate squirmed in the kitchen.

“This is bad, Morgan. This is bad.” Spencer paced around the kitchen, hands in his hair.

“I know, kid, I know. But you need to calm down.” Morgan tried to reason with him.

“No, Morgan! You don’t understand!” Spencer whisper-yelled as he gripped his shoulders and Morgan saw his wild eyes, “You don’t understand! The letter!”

Morgan steadied Spencer, “Reid, breathe. What letter?”

“I’m her secret Santa. I wrote her a letter, Morgan. I wrote her a letter, a letter which contains very sensitive information that she cannot read right now--o-or ever!” Spencer’s hands flew to his hair again and Morgan had to think quickly.

“Okay, okay. I’ll help you, we need to think of a way to get the letter out of the box.”

“Morgan, it’s inside the teapot-- which is taped shut by the way-- inside the box, under the tree!” He flailed around nervously.

“Damn, man. Okay, just follow my lead. When she opens her gift, I’ll distract her and Anderson and you have to get that letter out.”

Spencer nodded and when they joined the rest of them outside, people were already opening their gifts, one by one. Spencer waited anxiously as she began to unwrap her gift.

“Oooh, I’m excited!” She said, carefully unwrapping the wrapping paper and opening the box, still seated on Anderson’s lap. She gasped, “It’s a teapot!” 

Spencer grimaced as he watched Morgan fake a trip and spill his drink all over Anderson’s shirt, getting some on Y/N’s back.

“Shit, man! I’m so sorry!” Morgan glanced at Spencer and Spencer jumped into action as the couple were distracted by the spilled drink. He quickly unstuck the tape on the teapot and lifted the lid enough to squeeze his hand through to remove the letter. He stashed it away in the pocket of his cardigan. In fact, he planned on burning it when he got home. He successfully restored the gift to how it was before they returned from the bathroom.

“No one says a word.” Reid warned the rest of the group, who were watching the whole debacle like it was a spectacle. They all undoubtedly figured out what was written in that letter, therefore they understood and nodded.

“Not a peep.” Garcia said, locking her lips with an imaginary key.

“Anyway! Now that that’s all sorted out. Back to the teapot.” Y/N came back to her gift and her seating arrangement.

“Um, you should...you should look inside. There’s um, bonus gifts.” Spencer was absolutely beet-red in the face. 

But Y/N knew the gift was from Spencer the second she saw the wrapping paper, which was full of adorable snowmen dressed in Christmas clothing. She grinned, remembering the argument between them which started by her telling him how cute she thought snowmen wearing clothes was and him getting frustrated trying to explain to her how snowmen wouldn’t need protection from the cold. She opened up the teapot and pulled out the bookmark. Spencer watched her eyes soften as they roamed over the words of her favorite poem. She toyed with the gold string of the bookmark as she reached into the pot again and pulled out the small pouch that contained the necklace. She pulled it out and gasped.

“Oh, Spencer, it’s all so perfect. Thank you.” She moved the gifts aside and wrapped him in a hug. Spencer stopped listening to the persistent ache in his chest as he hugged her back. He let all his senses be consumed by her, just temporarily. He found peace in that moment and he tried his hardest to hold onto that peace as he watched her fiancé clip the necklace onto her neck. 

Oh, what he’d give to be in Anderson’s place.

~~~

She smiled at the memory the bookmark brought. She found her fingers weaving themselves through the gold strings gingerly. That seemed to calm her nerves enough for now. Garcia had convinced her to go home finally after promising to call her and let her know if anything changed.

2 days.

It was 2 days before she heard any news. She had been cooped up with Garcia in her batcave for emotional support. Also she wanted to know about any advancements as soon as possible. Garcia and Y/N were currently watching a live feed from some news channel.

“Damn, how did he know there were FBI agents in there? Word travels--” Garcia began but the explosion on screen cut her off. Y/N stood up from her seat abruptly.

“What was that?! Garcia, was that the ranch?!” Y/N all but screamed with panic, “Penelope! Answer me!” Garcia’s stunned face was paired with teary eyes as she turned to look at Y/N. Garcia frantically called Hotch and Rossi, but no one answered.

“No, no, no. NO! This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening, Penelope. Are we sure Spencer and Emily were still inside?” Y/N’s voice wavered as she held her hands to her chest in disbelief. Garcia shrugged honestly and wordlessly.

“NO!” She began sobbing uncontrollably, falling to her knees, mumbling nearly incoherently, “I never got to tell him...I never got to tell him.” 

Garcia fell to the floor, holding the sobbing woman as best as she could without falling apart herself. Y/N gripped her tight as she felt the walls closing in on her. Her chest felt tight and she suddenly felt as if the air was ripped from her lungs. She could hear strangled sobs, but wasn’t even registering that they were her own.

It was too late.

She’d never see his smiling hazel eyes again. She’d never hear his hearty laugh once more. She never told him. She never told him how deeply her love for him ran. What was she waiting for? She’d waited too long. How utterly stupid of her. And now there’s no chance. He’s gone...he’s pulverized into bits and pieces--

The phone rang and Garcia leapt to it ungracefully, “Sir?! Reid and Prentiss--”

“They’re okay, Garcia. They made it out in time. With Morgan.” Hotch said sternly.

“Morgan was in there?!” Garcia screamed into the phone.

“Yeah, but I’m alright, babygirl, don’t you worry ‘bout me.” Morgan’s silky voice was heard from farther away. Garcia was about to reply when Y/N snatched the phone from her.

“Spencer?! Spence, are you there? Are you okay?!” She half-sobbed into the phone, not wanting her voice to give her away completely.

“Yes, yeah, I’m here. I’m alive.” Spencer choked out, relief flooding her system as she heard his voice. He was very much still alive and breathing, albeit with difficulty. Y/N didn’t register the rest of the conversation between Hotch and Garcia. She lay back in her seat and buried her face in her hands, trying to control her breathing. Garcia hung up and rested a kind hand onto her shoulder.

“Whew, that was a close one.” She said with a small smile. Y/N took her hands off her face and met with her warm eyes, “You know you’ll have to tell him eventually.” Y/N froze in her place again. She suddenly avoided her friend’s gaze. She was really hoping she hadn’t caught onto that. “It’s okay, pumpkin, we can all see it.”

She was right, oh my God, she was right.

“No, I don’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re wrong, whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.” Y/N felt bad saying those words but there was nothing else she could do to protect herself. Garcia stayed silent, but gave her a look that shook Y/N at her very core.

Later, on the jet, Morgan took a seat next to Reid and stared at him intently before speaking.

“So, a little birdie tells me your girl was pretty heartbroken…” He trailed off, but not without an obvious wiggle of his dark brows.

“Morgan, for the last time, she is not ‘my girl’, she is engaged. She is very much someone else’s girl.” Reid rolled his eyes, attention going back to his book, although he tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the thought. He didn’t know if his heart was fluttering because of what Morgan called her, or because she was so torn up about the thought of him dying. He knew he shouldn’t ever feel good about someone else’s pain, but what did her pain mean?

“So what? Engaged ain’t married, pretty boy.” Morgan shrugged, saying it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Spencer shook his head at his friend.

Back in the bullpen, Y/N waited for their arrival ever so anxiously by the glass doors across from the elevator. She was rolling onto the balls of her feet and bouncing with anticipation. It didn’t even matter that it was half past 3 in the morning. She had to see him. 

The ding of the elevator was the most comforting noise she’d heard in about a week. There he was, way in the back of the elevator, lifting his gaze from the floor to meet with hers. They both broke into the largest grins they’ve ever seen. She practically pushed Morgan out of her speedy way as he stepped off the elevator and slammed into Spencer with enough force to knock the air out of the both of their chests. Spencer caught her gladly and spun her around, laughing.

“I thought I lost you.” Y/N whispered into the embrace.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer replied softly into her hair.

The team all watched the reunion, adoration clear on their faces.

Emily was caught mumbling, “Damn, I wish I had someone to greet me like that after almost dying.” This, of course, resulted in a full blown bear hug from Garcia.

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[elliewritessometimes]

hello. have you seen this post by @notsomightymightytiger?? that’s my friend!!! and this is completely and utterly inspired by that and completely and utterly written for her. love you stabby friend <3

also known as: the tigers go to disneyland, kateva like to kiss, chess, reese and mattie have an understated bromance and cheerwives can actually be fluffy for once

tw: swearing, theme park kind of things??? aka rollercoasters and fireworks and all that. as always, let me know if i’ve missed anything

(sidenote idk if you can tell but i have never in my life been to disneyland don’t come for me if i wrote it all wrong i tried my best)

---

"We're going to Disneyland."

There was silence in the gym for a solid thirty seconds before all hell broke loose.

"WhAT???"

"Wait, really?!?"

"Oh my God, Riley, you're the best, oh my gOd!"

"Why the fuck did you think that taking us to fucking Disneyland was a good idea??" Kate looked less than pleased at the proposition, a stark contrast to the delighted faces of Reese and Mattie.

Riley smiled brightly. "Team bonding!!"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Right. Of course." Their voice rose in pitch, sarcasm delicately lacing their words. "For the best of the team-"

Chess cut them off, not so subtly stamping on her foot. "Katherine, please."

Farrah had been wobbling on her tiptoes, peering over Annleigh's shoulder. She gave a long-suffering groan. "Annleigh, Clark's not a Tiger, he can't come."

"But-"

"No. It's unfair."

Annleigh ignored her sister and switched her attention to Riley, making her best puppy eyes at the captain. Riley only widened her smile. It probably hurt her face a little bit. "You know what? Fine. Clark can come. It's gonna be fun, right?!"

Annleigh giggled at the answer, sticking her tongue out at a fuming Farrah. Kate was in a similar predicament, being held back by a smirking Chess with an arm around their shoulder. They pulled out their phone as well, already dialling a number, “If Annleigh’s boyfriend gets to come, then my girlfriend should be allowed as well. Otherwise that’s nepotism.”

“Fine.” Riley was steadily regretting her decision to hold a cheer trip. On her left, Cairo squeezed her hand, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Kate gagged in their direction. “You better not, Kate, or I’m banning your girlfriend from Disneyland.”

“Fuck you.”

“Wait,” Reese spoke up, “If Kate and Annleigh can have Eva and Clark, and Cairo and Riley have each other, can I bring my boyfriend?”

“No more significant others!” Riley clapped her hands, ignoring Reese’s pout. “If you can’t get Eva and Clark here in the next eight minutes, we will be leaving them behind! I paid so much money for these tickets and we will not be late.”

The team headed towards the door, being greeted by Eva and Clark already standing beside Cairo’s minivan. They split the rides evenly between the van and Chess’ car (Kate was more than pissed to find that their best friend had been in on the plan all along). 

At one point, Mattie took Reese’s hand. “Hey, even if you can’t bring your boyfriend, you’ve got me, right? Ultimate bromance and all that?”

Reese grinned and squeezed the freshman’s hand. “Hell yeah.”

-

“I want that pin.”

“No, you don’t.” Reese hugged the Belle pin closer. 

Chess held out a hand. “Yeah, but I do though.”

Reese shook her head.

“Look, I’ll give you my Tinkerbell diamond one.” They held out the rare pin in their other hand.

“No! Belle is my favourite!”

“She’s my favourite as well though!”

Cairo sighed. “We’ve been here literally ten minutes.”

Reese linked arms with Mattie, turning on her heel to walk off, “I’m going now and you’re not getting my Belle pin!!!!”

“HEY!” Chess chased after the two, trying so hard to keep up their grumpy demeanour and failing when a smile crept onto their face.

Turning to an anxious-looking Riley, Cairo sighed again. By now, she’d sighed more than she’d spoken today. “Chess does know that they could just... buy their own Belle pin if they really wanted, right???”

“It’s the fun of it, Cai.” Riley looked around, craning her neck. “Where on Earth have the other five members of our team gone?”

“Holy shit.” At this rate, Cairo must have been running out of oxygen from the intense sighing. “It has been. Ten. Minutes.”

-

Farrah wouldn't call herself a Disneyland regular, but she's been a few times before. She remembered a time before her mother had left, when she was still just a little kid, coming to the park for the first time. It had been the kind of magical that only a child can experience, filled with glitter and laughter and something that might have been called family. Her mother bought bubblegum flavoured cotton candy, handing the stick to a seven-year-old Farrah with a smile and a wink. They agreed that it was the first thing that you had to do when going to Disneyland - buy cotton candy. Every time since, Farrah bought the same bubblegum pink sugar from the same tacky stand and ate it with the same wonder as she did the very first time.

Now, Farrah had a new family. In, perhaps, more ways than one. Here, away from home, she's still with her family, maybe a slightly dysfunctional one made up of teenage cheerleaders (and Clark), but still, they are her family in one way or another.

Annleigh returned as Farrah was mulling over all this, a stick of worryingly neon pink cotton candy in her hand. "Figured you'd want to start the day off with your usual sugar rush."

Farrah took the treat with a smile, wondering if Annleigh is only so glad to buy such unhealthy food because at least it's not alcohol. "Thanks."

"Come on, ladies! We've got a whole park to explore!" Clark had apparently already visited a store, a pair of Mickey ears stretched over his head. Farrah rolled her eyes, but followed her sister and brother-in-law (nearly) further down the street because, after all, they are her family.

-

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to fucking Disneyland before,” Eva looked mildly horrified, “Has Chess never taken you?”

“I didn’t really want to go.”

Eva narrowed her eyes. “Why the fuck-”

“Reasons.” Kate’s voice was sharp and Eva backed off, only kissing the top of their head. Kate squeezed her hand in response. “Anyway, come on, show me everything. Mountain rides challenge, right?”

“Ugh, Katie, the queues with be forever...”

“Lucky for you, I’ll be there to while away the time with you.” She winked, laughing when Eva blushed. “Let’s go.”

-

Of all the things to happen at Disneyland, Reese was not expecting to get sneak attacked by a literal cuddly pig. She yelped, reaching a hand to smack it away, nearing the point of ‘this might as well happen’, when a small head poked out from behind the toy. Mattie grinned, “Boo!”

“Jesus Christ, you scared the life out of me.”

The younger girl giggled brightly. “Look what I got!”

“...Is that the pig from Moana?”

“Obviously.” Mattie rolled her eyes. “You should know by now that Moana is the best Disney movie of all time.”

Reese rummaged in her backpack for a second before pulling out yet another pin. “Look! Moana pin. Girl, I would give it to you, but me and Chess are tryna see who can get the most pins by the end of the day. Speaking of, was Chess in the store?”

“Yeah, actually.” She hesitated. “Dude, I hate to tell you this, but they had a Belle pin.”

“Shit.”

-

Perhaps queuing had been a mistake. It had probably been hours. Kate would have known more accurately if they’d worn a watch like Chess always told them to. She was stubborn though, and hadn’t. “Aves...” 

“Yeah?”

“How long have we been waiting?”

“Twenty-five minutes.”

“Oh.” They craned their neck to see over the heads in front of them, realising that they were only a few people from the front. “Oh.”

Eva laughed and took her partner’s hand again, “Told you the queues were long.”

However, in only a matter of minutes, they were seated in an uncomfortable car, the seatbelts just a little too tight to be comfortable and a little too loose to feel actually safe. To say Kate was uncomfortable would be an understatement. She was also maybe a tiny bit scared. 

Eva squinted at them. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“I’m fine.” 

And so the ride began.

Around halfway through, they began the steady climb to the highest peak. Kate turned to Eva, yelling over the shouts of other passengers. “Hey, babe? Remember when I said I didn’t come here with Chess because of reasons? Now might be a good time to tell you that those reasons are that I’m scared of heights.” 

“You fucking idiot.” Eva turned carefully to them, holding their hands tighter, worry and amusement shining in her eyes. The car reached the peak of the ride. “Look at me and don’t fucking think about looking down. It’s okay.” She cupped her cheek. They fell suddenly and Kate's heart jumped into her throat. Eva laughed a little at their surprise. “You know what they say, babe, you gotta confront your fears straight on.”

“I can’t do anything straightly.”

And that was how they found themselves kissing on a rollercoaster, hair slightly in their faces, just as the camera shutter went off. 

-

The team somehow reconvened for lunch, stopping on a bench somewhere as Clark unpacked a multitude of sandwiches and juice boxes. Of course, only Clark, Annleigh and Riley ended up eating the home-brought food, everyone else opting to buy their own trashy, mostly-sugar lunch. 

“How the fuck did you know to bring all this if we only organised the trip this morning?” Kate sounded suspicious, eyeing Clark like he was the imposter. 

Clark looked mildly sheepish. “Oh... We all knew already.”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah, sorry Kitkat.” Chess stifled a snort of laughter. “We organised this weeks ago. We had a group chat and everything.”

Kate spluttered for a second. “Alright, traitors, who else was left out of this?”

Mattie, Farrah and Reese all raised a hand. 

“This makes no sense. Cairo, I trust you to tell the truth, why the fuck didn’t you tell us?!”

Cairo smirked. “We didn’t tell Mattie and Farrah because they’re children-”

“Rude!” Mattie smacked Cairo on the arm. “I am possibly more responsible than half of the rest of you.”

Riley cut in. “Don’t be silly, Cai. We didn’t tell Reese, Mattie or Farrah because they like Disney the most and we wanted it to be a surprise treat for them.”

The rest of the group made noises of appreciation or fondness. Kate, however, was less than pleased, “What about me?!”

“Oh, we just wanted to see your face when we announced it.” Cairo didn't hold back.

“Fuck you all.” But they were holding back a smile, already moving on to the next thing. “Hey, Farrah, you okay? Why aren’t you eating?”

The sophomore groaned. “I feel sick.”

Annleigh hugged her sister to her side, rubbing her back gently. ‘It’s because you ate all that cotton candy earlier.”

“It was so good, though.” Farrah frowned, regretting her past-self and her need for sugar. 

Clark reached into his backpack, pulling out a pair of Minnie ears, before plonking them awkwardly on Farrah’s head. He grinned. “That’ll make you feel better!”

“Dude, I don’t know, but thanks for the effort.” She fought a smile, reaching up to arrange the ears around her plaits. 

-

Riley had been anxious about the trip ever since it had been first suggested. She’d pored over the plans for hours on end, triple checking each detail with Cairo and Chess. Now that they were here, it was all going well enough. Sure, maybe they had gotten lost a couple of times, and sure, maybe they hadn’t stayed as much of a team as she’d planned, but yeah, it was going fine. Everyone else was having fun. 

“Hey, Rye, you doing okay?”

She nodded with a smile, clutching Cairo’s hand. “Yup! All good!”

Cairo did not look convinced. “Look, you've been stressing about everyone else all day, how about we leave them be and go visit some princesses, huh?”

“Cai... Cai, that would be honestly amazing.” Hesitating, she watched the retreating backs of the rest of the team. “You’re sure they’ll be okay?”

“They’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, they’ve got Clark and Chess and Eva in case anything goes wrong.” The taller girl didn’t hesitate from naming who she perceived as the ‘responsible ones’. 

“Okay.” Riley opened her mouth to suggest a destination, when they were approached by the one and only Peter Pan. 

“Hey!”

“OhmygodCai.” She clung to her girlfriend’s arm. “It’s Peter Pan.”

Cairo snorted, nudging Riley to spark her reply. She watched as the two had what was possibly the purest and most wholesome conversation she had ever heard, sneakily taking photos that she would treasure because of Riley’s true delight. Riley skipped towards her after a couple of minutes, grinning properly from ear to ear. “That was so cool!”

“Amazing, Rye. Who shall we visit next?”

“Oh my God, we have to see Tangled!”

“....Rapunzel.”

Riley paused from where she was dragging Cairo into another set of rooms. “What?”

Cairo laughed, “She’s not called Tangled, babe, her name’s Rapunzel.” 

“Oh. Yeah, right, of course, forgot.”

The other girl only laughed harder. “You're so stupid, Jesus Christ, I love you.”

Riley blushed. “Love you too.”

-

“So you did the mountain rides challenge.”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“And somehow, just magically, you two found yourselves making out in every single ride photo.” Chess crossed their arms, grinning at the couple in front of them.

“I- It was noT making out!!” Kate spluttered a reply, hiding her face in Eva’s shoulder. Chess only laughed harder.

Eva hummed as if she was making a difficult decision. “I don’t know, babe, you got pretty into it at one point.”

The senior cackled, high-fiving Eva over Kate's head. Kate continued to hide in their girlfriend's shoulder, only lifting a middle finger in Chess’ direction as a reply. Chess took the offending finger in their hand, pulling Kate up so she could walk between the other two. “Damn, Kitkat.”

“I’m not ever replying to that name again. I have been too attacked to allow it.”

Eva kissed the top of their head, “You came here to have a good time and you’re just feeling so attacked right now.”

“Exactly!” Kate nudged their head up into Eva’s chin, “This is why I’m dating you, meme girl.”

“Ew, gross.” Chess tugged Kate, who tugged Eva, who finally got them walking again. “Come on, lovebirds, it’s firework time.”

-

By the time the fireworks began, they’d been at the park for hours. Farrah still had her Minnie ears on, ones which Clark occasionally tried to steal due to his own ears being lost on one ride or another. Annleigh would only bat his hand away, laughing when he pressed kisses to her palm. 

Kate kissed Eva again when the first firework exploded above them, being caught by yet another camera, this time in the hands of Riley. The photo found its way onto the Tigers group chat by morning, greeted by a pouting Kate begging them to take it down against the protests of the rest of the team (“But you’re just so cute!”). Somehow, she didn’t complain when it even later worked its way onto Eva's Instagram feed. 

Chess and Reese jumped at the first fireworks, too absorbed in counting pins to pay attention to the rest of the world. Mattie wormed her way between them, sneakily stealing both Reese’s Moana pin and Chess’ newly-bought Belle pin. They were too distracted by the light show to notice and Mattie celebrated her little victory by also stealing some of the cotton candy that Farrah had bought herself again, despite her earlier regrets. She supposed some people never learnt.

Cairo stood quietly at the back of the group, showing a still-bouncing Riley the pictures taken with the various characters they’d encountered. Riley kissed her for the final firework, a silent ‘thank you’ for today. 

With the lights of Disneyland glimmering maybe slightly tackily behind the group, Riley took one last picture. It was them, the team, the Tigers, silhouetted in the lights but, if you zoomed in and maybe turned the brightness up a bit, you could still see them smiling. That made its way onto the group chat as well and maybe it still hangs in more than one of their rooms. It was certainly a day that qualified for the scrapbooks.

[the-fiction-witch]

Control P13

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER RATING: SEXY

I sat on a little chair watching across the department store y/n walking around the baby department, I had given up hours ago and sat down where I could still see her. she walked around with her cart, "Y/n?" I called but nothing "Y/n? Little lady?"

"yes Benny?" she calls back as she had heard me that time

"Come here little lady," I told her so she smiled and came over with her little cart "what have you got?"

"Baby stuff"

"Yeah what you've been shopping for hours?"

"I got some tiny clothes, tiny shoes, little bottles and toys" she smiled

"Okay... why my darling is everything pink?"

"Because It's a pretty colour"

"What if it's a boy?"

"Then he will like pink" I said

"But he's a boy"

"Boy's can't like pink?"

"Yeah but... if he had only pink clothes and pink stuff it's gonna get annoying for him, and what if we do have a girl and she hates pink"

"Well. what do you suggest benny?" "I know a gender-neutral colour scheme"

"Do you?" "Black and white"

"You are not dressing our baby up like a chessboard?"

"why not? He'll match the apartment"

"Benny our baby doesn't need to match the aesthetic"

"Maybe not yours. I would like the baby to fit the... chess theme that we have in the apartment and in general when we go places"

"The baby doesn't need to fit the aesthetic benny" she laughs going back to her shopping

"So you're telling me? we go to the Us championship next year and you don't want the baby to have a little black stroller and white blankets while we walk around the hotel?" I smirked as I followed her "So people think your baby is cute?"

"People will think the baby is cute if it's dressed like a chessboard, or a bunny rabbit" she giggled showing a tiny rabbit onzie

"But... if it could be in a chess colour scheme"

"Benny you dress our baby like a chess piece I am letting it thrown up on you"

"Ohh it will. I know it will."

"fine then I will make you watch down there the whole time I am in labour"

"Fine. we should probably sort out the big stuff? like a crib. a high chair. a pram. whatever those bouncy things are"

"bouncy things?"

"those things" I said pointing to them

"That's a yoga ball benny. it's not for babies" "Then why is it in the baby section?"

"It's for pregnant ladies"

"Ooh. then what is that crazy looking thing?"

"That's for getting breast milk in bottles" she laughs

"Oh yeah, your gonna start having milk come out your boobs," I said absentmindedly and she glared at me "what? you are? Ohh does that mean I can't squeeze them anymore?" "Not very hard no"

"I best make use of my time" I smiled cuddling her and grabbing her boobs

"we are in a store!" she whines pushing me away "You want a job to do?"

"Yes."

"Go find toys"

"Toys?"

"Not plushie ones, toy ones. you're smart I want baby to be smart so go find things like what you plaid with as a child"

".... who do you think I was as a child?"

"Like the smarty child playing with the brain toys?"

"No. more the evil child that went around hitting other kids with a stick. and poking dead things

"I would have liked to have known that before you impregnated me benny"

"well now you know"

"That's the kinda stuff they send kids to doctors about?"

"Ohh they did. like four times. I would bite them"

"How old were you?"

"Like three"

"Just go look for toys benny"

"Fine." I sighed giving her a kiss and going to find the toy section "and buy more than a chessboard"

"The baby has to have a chessboard. from the moment it's born"

"Yeah but we own twenty-six of them"

".... fine! I can't choose its toys, I can't dress the baby. what exactly am I involved in?"

"you did your job, it's inside me now your jobs are building baby furniture and take care of me until such time as I birth a small human" she explained "Also we should hurry I really want a crumpet"

"The sex or the food?"

"... both"

"Five minutes little lady, then we shall go home and ... rest"

"good, Ohh I also need a new lipstick while were here" she says scampering off

"Great we'll be here another six hours" I sighed

"what was that?"

"Nothing darling"

I sat at the table going though my game, trying to get some work done, while Y/n was working on setting up the corner of our apartment. I had built the crib and a couple other bits we bought and she was setting it all up putting blankets and toys around in the little places all while she stroked her babybump, I couldnt help looking up often keeping an eye on her.

I smiled resting my chin on my hand and my elbow on the table watching her across the room, She stood sorting the babies stuff folding little blankets and hugging the plushies as she sorted it all out from the shopping bags, in her little fluffy slippers, her sweet white and blue stripped thigh high socks, her little light blue dress with buttons down her chest a couple of them undone, Her large baby bump sat so perfectly even if she often had to becareful not to bump it into things where she still wasn't use to it, her hair in the sweet intense curls fresh out of her rollers, Gently humming a little tune.

"what?" she asked as she spotted me looking at her and I just shrug "Ohh you don't have something to say?" she laughs

"You look pretty" I told her

"Sure I do" she sighed

"You do." I smiled "You look sexy preganant"

"I'm a boat"

"A pretty boat"

"Benny!"

"What?"

"You shouldn't make fun of me"

"I'm not making fun of you."

"How could I ever be sexy with this... thing"

"That thing is our child"

"Still. it's not sexy to look like your trying to steal a watermelon from a supermarket"

"I still think you look sexy" I told her "I still think your sexy. I would still go crazy if you wore that little lacy nightie"

"I can't benny it doesn't fit me anymore"

"I'm sure I can find one in your infinate wardrobe something you and baby can fit in"

"I highly doubt you will find me desireable with this" she says

"I think I will"

"I bet you won't"

"I bet I will"

"Will you now?"

"I know I will" I smirked

"Fine but if I'm right then you have to do the night feedings for three months when baby comes"

"Alright, but if I'm right, then I get to snuggle with you as much as I want. and You will make me victoria sponge cupcakes."

"alright" she nods "You can finish up, and I'll meet you in the bedroom" she smiled giving my head a kiss as she walked to the bathroom.

I sat reading my book but often getting distracted watching her walk around on her huge dress usually holding her hips or her bump. "Ooh bulbs gone" she says as she clicked the ceiling lights on

"Ahh, damn thing that's the fourth one that's gone in there. I think the fitting needs changing. Or I need to ring the landlord to come look at the electric box again" I explain

"Possibly" she says going to the kitchen draw

"What are you doing?"

"Changing the light bulb?" She shurgs

"Are you?" I laughed putting my book down watching her slowly walk over she put up her arm trying so hard to reach it but honestly I don't think she could reach it when she wasn't seven months pregnant, let alone now. I held back my laughs a little watching her try before got up and did it for her

"I was about to do it" she pouted

"Of course you where little lady" I smiled giving her head a kiss and pulling her into a cuddle resting my head on hers "y/n, you are seven months pregnant little lady. You can't do everything you use to"

"Who says I can't?"

"... The doctor"

"Well what does he know"

".... Uuuuuhh alot"

"I can do it Benny I'm not some damn invalid"

"I'm not saying you are. I'm saying you need to slow down a little be careful. Your growing a human inside you you should be resting and being careful. Don't want something bad to happy do we?"

"No. I just don't like sitting around not doing anything," she whines "I have things to do"

"I know you don't. But that's why I'm here I'll take care of my lovely lady, till baby comes Iam your salve darling I'll wait on you hand and foot if you'd want me too"

"Benny" she giggled

"No I mean it. You need to rest" I told her "now you sit down I'll make you some lunch"

"Thank you" she smiled

"Your welcome" I laughed going to the fridge taking the little list I stuck today the fridge off it was a page I ripped out one of her pregnancy books about what she can and can't eat looking in the fridge and at the list trying to think of what I could make her "now... would you like a salad?"

"No" she pouts as she sat on my chair

"Would you like... cereal?"

"No"

"Would you like... mac and cheese?" I asked before I remembered as she bolted for the bathroom and I could hear her throwing up "sorry hun I forgot" I told her "I'll make you some french toast okay? That'll settle baby down"

I went and began making her french toast the way she likes it and eventually she came back "hey, you okay now?"

"Don't mention that stuff"

"I know I'm sorry little lady, I forgot." I laughed giving her a kiss "ah... I uhhh y/n I love you And I don't wanna be rude but... I need to wash my mouth out now because, I can taste the morning sickness" I sighed quickly washing my mouth as I could taste it, it was horrible.

"Sorry Benny"

'ita fine I was dumb for giving you a kiss before you washed your mouth out"

"It's not morning sickness either it's like one pm"

"I class it as morning sickness as you only woke up like two hours ago"

"And morning sickness lasts all day," she says loitering over where I was cooking

"Then why not just call it pregnant sickness?"

"I don't know" she shurgs trying to steal the first finished bit

"Oi! No little lady its too hot you'll burn your pretty mouth"

"What do you care?"

"Well I might wanna use that pretty mouth later" I winked giving her butt a pinch

"Benny!" She whines

"What?"

"Dirty daddy"

"Well how can I not be when mummy's so sexy and beautiful" I cooed giving her a kiss on the head

[pomegranate-belle]

V-day ask meme 5 with mattfoggy?

5. Character spends all day trying to give a valentine to their crush, only to be foiled in increasingly ridiculous ways

So this became... 3k words. I feel like this trope is very high-school oriented, but somehow the fic ended up being comicsverse so idk. It’s set... Somewhere in a post-whatever-run-we’re-on-now future where Kirsten is back and Matt’s not stupidly sleeping with mob boss wives. Also, massive apologies to any X-Men fans; I do not know shit or fuck about characterizing Magneto and Professor X, I just wanted Sir Ian and Patrick Stewart to cameo in this fic—

—

Despite all the commercialism and the overwhelming scent of flowers and processed candy, there’s just something about the aura of Valentine’s Day that Matt likes. People young and old get excited for it — whether for romantic purposes or just because chocolate will soon be on sale — and their feelings infuse the air in a way Matt can’t quite pin down to one or another of his senses. The Valentine Vibe, Kirsten had called it when he tried to explain the sensation to her.

He’s... Ecstatic, to have her back in his life, there’s really no other word for it. They’re not quite what they once were — in fact, Matt has no idea what they are except she’s there and they love each other but they’re not the kind of people who kiss each other anymore. Still, after climbing out of his latest spiral to find her waiting at the top? He can’t think of a better dynamic to have with an ex. She’s still Kirsten, after all. She’s still intelligent and funny and brave and doesn’t take his shit.

She’s also begun to take a particularly pointed interest in his relationship with Foggy that he thinks he should maybe be a little frightened about. Her intention is that Matt, so she says, ‘stop pining and seduce him already’ — which is easy enough for her to say, but just because he and Kirsten followed an absolutely fantastic trail of sexual tension to an even more fantastic relationship does not mean the same thing will work with Foggy.

You don’t seduce Foggy Nelson, and Matt would know. He’s been trying unsuccessfully for fifteen years and he is not subtle. Matt knows he looks good even if he can’t see it himself; the empirical evidence is pretty, uh, evident. But whenever Foggy sees him shirtless his only reaction is to toss a shirt at him and tell him to cover his shame with a warm fondness that’s simultaneously disappointing and heartwarming. Matt’s not even on the menu to Foggy, he’s concluded. But, well. Matt’s always been a champion of lost causes, and all that.

Besides, best friends give each other stuff on Valentine’s Day all the time. Foggy loves chocolate, and he’ll probably brush off what the ‘oh my god Matt you big softie this is totally the sappiest one in the store’ card Kirsten helped Matt pick out says as being a joke, so it’s not like there’ll be any negative repercussions. Matt’s resolved. He’s gonna do it.

Unfortunately, Foggy’s in a meeting with a client when Matt shows up to probably-unsuccessfully sweep him off his feet. The secretary says it’s set to go on another two hours. Matt doesn’t have that kind of time to bandy around now that he’s trying to be responsible with his work-life balance, so he makes a tactical retreat.

Fine. He’ll just take Foggy out to lunch and give him his valentine then. No problem.

—

They actually do make it to lunch, which gives Matt a false sense of security. He decides to save the valentine for the end — like dessert. It’ll be sweet, he’s certain, and he’ll be able to savor Foggy’s happiness the entire time he walks him back to his office.

Matt is just about to pull out his gift and offer it to Foggy when his phone starts announcing Jessica Jones’s name. He spends about three seconds too long debating whether to answer or not.

“If you ghost her she’ll beat the crap out of you,” Foggy points out, standing with a metallic rasp of chair legs against the floor. “I’ll head out and let you take that.”

Foggy sounds content, smells like deli ham and honey mustard and potato chips — a not-super-healthy sandwich lunch masquerading as something more so by way of a thin layer of lettuce — and gives off the same soothing body heat he always has, excepting his bout with cancer that Matt tries not to think about. To make a long story short, he feels like home to every one of Matt’s senses, and it’s a struggle not to ask him to stay. Still, the insistence of Matt’s phone prevails, because he knows what Jess is calling about. He’d asked her to help keep an eye on Mike and let him know if he was up to anything — if she has something to report, it’s bound to be important. So, Matt offers Foggy a nod and then pulls out his cell to answer her.

—

Of course, both he and Foggy are busy all afternoon, but Matt knows that Foggy usually knocks off early on Fridays, so he wraps up his own business — meeting with Jess to discuss strategy, any work that can’t be pushed to later — as efficiently as possible and follows suit. His plan is to meet Foggy right as he’s stepping onto the sidewalk — waylay him and present him with the valentine before anything else can interfere. Except that as he’s strolling along down the street, Matt happens to hear a mugging going on down an alley that he’s passing. Breaking that up takes more time than he’s willing to admit — god, he’s getting old — and even vaulting over a few rooftops doesn’t make up the delay. Foggy’s gone when Matt reaches his destination. He lets his head fall back against the brick wall behind him, breathing heavily, and then reaches for his phone.

“Matt?” Foggy’s voice is tinny and confused and perfect over the phone line. “What’s up?”

“Dinner?” Matt asks. “I was thinking Italian tonight, want to meet me at Maria’s at five-thirty?”

There’s a long, long pause.

“Yeah, sure thing, Matty. I figured you’d already have plans...?”

“Nah, nothing. See you then.”

—

Fourth time’s the charm, that’s what they say, right? Maria’s is quaint and quiet and always smells like good bread and cheese. He and Foggy aren’t the only ones there — a few couples seem to be scattered around the room, including a pair of teenage girls that are probably on a first date based on the way they fumble their words and their silverware. There’s also two elderly men, one in a wheelchair, who sound like they might be playing chess on a travel board while they wait for their food. They all add to the atmosphere instead of disturbing it, though, which is nice. Across the table, Foggy clears his throat, scraping the tines of his fork through his food.

“So. Lunch and dinner? I feel like you’re buttering me up for something,” he says. “We don’t have to move back to California, do we? Because I will, but I only just unpacked my last box a few weeks ago and it’s going to be a pain to pack it all up again.”

“No! No, nothing like that, Foggy,” insists Matt. “Seriously. I just want to spend time with you. Is that really so out of character?”

“On Valentine’s Day?” Foggy points out, and his silverware clinks against his plate. “I mean, kind of.”

The implication isn’t lost on Matt — don’t you usually have a date? — but he doesn’t address it. Foggy is his date, but couching it like that out loud is a little too presumptive, even for him.

“Well, not this year.”

Matt smiles his most charming smile, and it nets him a fond sigh, the kind that’s normally paired with Foggy ruffling his hair.

—

Again, Matt waits until the end of the meal. This time, they get to dessert, and the moment is perfect. They’re comfortably full, happy, and relaxed. It doesn’t matter if Foggy sees the gesture as romantic or not, because at least Matt can be satisfied that it was done as romantically as possible. His sense of aesthetics, such as it is, will be appeased.

Which is, of course, the moment the door of the restaurant bursts open.

“Magneto!” shouts a man, storming into the restaurant with heavy, clomping bootsteps and shattering the moment to pieces. “I’ll kill you!!”

Matt is going to kick this guy’s ass.

What is he even yelling about? Magneto? Magneto’s not—

And then one of the old men stands. Every spoon in the restaurant rattles towards him when he pushes back his chair, prompting a sigh from his dinner companion. And so it turns out that maybe the guy bursting through the door isn’t as off-base as Matt assumed. That old guy really is Magneto. It actually takes Matt a minute to realize that the man in the wheelchair across the table must be Charles Xavier. Xavier just isn’t someone Matt hangs around a lot, he tends to steer clear of both him and his academy when possible. It’s not mutants Matt has a problem with, though — it’s telepaths. The idea of someone poking around in his brain pan without so much as a by-your-leave gives him goosebumps. And not the fun kind.

As Matt considers all this, the scene continues — he notices distantly that the teenagers are being ushered towards the kitchen and away from the action. There’s a few whiffs of air as punches are thrown by the unknown assailant, and an unpleasant burning smell. Matt’s torn between shuffling Foggy away from danger and joining the fray himself, but when Foggy reaches out and grabs his hand for comfort he finds he can do neither.

“Let me very firmly impress upon you the enormity of your rudeness,” says Magneto, his voice crisp and cold.

Matt can’t even tell what he’s doing — something about Magneto’s powers is messing with his radar sense in the most disorienting way — but it sounds painful. Matt debates with himself the pros and cons of shaking off Foggy’s grip and intervening.

“Erik,” Xavier says warningly, though there’s still something quietly warm suffusing his tone.

“Oh, very well.”

The would-be assassin hits the floor with a thud that rattles the dishes on Matt and Foggy’s table. He’s breathing, a little bit labored, but still alive. And unconscious. Also possibly bleeding a little bit, but it’s hard to tell with the scent of all the metal in the air.

And that, he supposes, is why you don’t mess up Magneto’s dinner plans.

Magneto and Professor X make their leisurely escape, leaving Matt’s romantic moment with Foggy thoroughly in ruins. He lets it go, sighing into the last bite of his tiramisu and gives the plan up as a bad job. Maybe next year, he thinks wryly as he and Foggy get up together to examine the man left on the floor.

“He’s wrapped up in a chain of spoons,” Foggy narrates quietly, nudging the guy with his toe. “Wasn’t sure if you could tell that, you looked confused. He must have some sort of acid powers though because he managed to melt a few on their way in. I think maybe he just fainted when the chain tightened. Are you able to sense any really bad injuries?”

Matt tilts his head and concentrates.

“No,” he determines at last. “No, nothing.”

That settled, they split the check and book it before they can get caught up in a police investigation or a mutant hunt.

Their apartments are in opposite directions, so there’s not even an excuse to give Foggy the valentine on the way home. And anyway, Matt’s feeling so discouraged that he’s not sure he even wants to go through with it anymore. He turns for home, planning to crumple up the card and maybe eat the chocolates himself.

“Matt.”

There’s a tug as Foggy grabs his sleeve. He turns towards the warmth of Foggy’s body, the sounds of his heart and his breath, and tries to offer a smile.

“What?”

Foggy gives him a quiet huff in return.

“Come on, Matt, give me a little credit. You’ve kept coming up with excuses to meet me all day. There’s something you wanted to say, and you still haven’t said it,” he explains. “I can tell. So let’s head back to mine and you can finally get it off your chest.”

Matt feels, suddenly, seen. It’s an unsettling and vulnerable feeling, but he knows beyond all doubt that he’s safe with Foggy. That it’s silly of him to be surprised at somebody knowing him so well when that somebody is Foggy. There’s not much the two of them can hide from each other after being best friends for so long. Mood improved a little, Matt manages a more genuine smile, and they walk on together.

—

“So, what exactly is your problem, Matt?” Foggy asks once they’re safely inside.

And it’s not as if he says it in a rude way, he actually sounds very earnest and concerned, but that just impresses on Matt all the more how stupid this entire situation is. He’s twisted himself in knots all day over one dumb little gift for one dumb little holiday. Annoyed with himself, Matt divests himself of his glasses, cane, and suit jacket, opens up his briefcase, plops the valentine and accompanying small box of chocolates inside down on Foggy’s coffee table, then flops onto the couch on his back.

“That,” he says, gesturing towards it. “That’s my problem, ok?”

Foggy laughs.

“That’s what all this was about? A valentine? You had me worried you were getting ready to pull some crazy stunt or another.” He pauses, likely studying the items set on the coffee table. “Chocolate and a card, huh? For Kirsten, I’m guessing? I had a feeling the two of you would be getting back t—”

Matt is extremely tired of Foggy’s assumptions.

“No, it’s for you! I’ve been trying to give it to you all day!” he complains, throwing an arm over his face — he might be a grown man but after the day he’s had he’s allowed to be a little dramatic, ok?

“Me?”

Foggy sounds surprised and pleased, but not like he’s having any sort of revelation about Matt’s feelings for him. Which is fine. That’s what Matt had expected, after all.

“Yup.”

“Well, if it is for me, then I guess I don’t have to feel guilty about wanting to eat these,” Foggy says, and there’s some rustling of cardboard and plastic as he opens the box of sweets and chooses one.

Raspberry-filled, Matt’s nose tells him as soon as it’s bitten into. With a pleased hum at the taste, Foggy picks up the card and opens the envelope. There’s further quiet, inarticulate sounds after that — noises Matt remembers from studying near Foggy, the sound of him not-quite-reading-aloud.

There’s a pause.

Foggy’s heart does a funny kind of stutter in his chest, then speeds up considerably. He swallows the chocolate in his mouth with a gulp that sounds distinctly nervous.

“Um. Matty...”

And now Matt’s nervous too. He sits up, clenches his fingers in the fabric of his slacks to keep from reaching for his glasses.

“What? What is it?” he demands.

“Did you, uh... Did you know Kirsten wrote in this?”

Oh no.

“What did she write?”

“Well, there’s a pretty long spiel about what she’ll do to us if we hurt each other,” Foggy says, with a jovial tone that rings very hollow. “But she also says I need to get over myself and kiss you because you’re an emotionally stunted duckling and won’t make the first move.”

“... Ah.”

Matt’s still trying to calculate the relative distance to the ground if he flings himself out the window when Foggy’s hand lands on his shoulder.

“Is she right?” he asks Matt.

“About what?”

Though he tries for a devil-may-care grin, Matt thinks it probably comes out a little anemic.

“About you wanting to kiss me, Matthew,” Foggy says drily. “we both already know you’re emotionally stunted.”

Matt shrugs.

“I do. But you don’t, and that’s fine, I’m... I don’t need...”

“I don’t?” asks Foggy, sounding incredulous. “Matty, come on. There’s pretty much nobody on Earth who’d turn you down and you really think I would?”

“But...? You never said...”

Foggy sighs and steps back. Matt gets the feeling he’s probably shaking his head in despair at Matt’s apparent idiocy.

“And why would I, Matt? I mean. You know what I mean! I’m just not the kind of person you would... They have leagues for a reason, buddy.”

That self-depreciation, light but tinged with a very deep melancholy that Matt knows is drilled right through to Foggy’s core, drives him to his feet in agitation.

“Objection!” he snaps, and doesn’t care how ridiculous it sounds. “I’ve flirted with you before! How could you think...”

“You flirt with everything that moves, Matt, I knew you didn’t mean it. That’s just who you are,” Foggy explains patiently.

“Well...” He can’t exactly deny it. “Yeah, but I did want to kiss you. Do want to kiss you. All the time. Except after you eat something gross and unfit for human consumption.”

Foggy offers up a quiet laugh, then, and it smooths some of Matt’s ruffled feathers when he can’t detect any bitterness in the sound.

“Real smooth, Casanova,” Foggy says. “That was sarcasm by the way. I’m rolling my eyes at you.”

“But you still want to kiss me too,” Matt replies, because he’s beginning to think it’s true and he knows Foggy finds it both irritating and endearing, but more the latter, when he’s smug about things.

“You really are unbearable. What do I see in you, I ask myself,” laments Foggy, even as he steps forward and cups Matt’s cheek in his hand.

Matt can hardly stop grinning long enough to swoop in and kiss him first.

[builder051]

Love the one you’re with

Creedless Assassins.  Current timeline, taking place during coronavirus quarantine.  (Nothing to do with the actual virus, though, if that is scary for you.)

________________________

They’re stateside when the call comes in.  Ohio is completely shutting down, by order of the governor.  

Their target actually pulls a U-turn in traffic drives back to his office, and spends another half hour loading CPUs into his trunk.  

Nat calls Fury just to be sure they’ve heard correctly, while Clint does not-quite donuts in the parking lot of the convenience store across the street.

“Yes, it includes you.  According to the painstakingly fake paperwork in your pockets, you’re Ohio residents.”

“Joy.”  Nat twists her mouth into a sideways grimace.  “You know, I could always just…” She fingers the outline of the derringer in her pocket.

“No.  That’s all kinds of wrong and you know it,” her superior snaps in her ear.  “Lie low.  Looks like he’s gonna do the same.  The threat might even neutralize during the quarantine.  Who knows…”

Nat grits her teeth.  “You’re killing me, Fury.”  

“No, I’m not,” Fury replies.  “And you’re not killing anyone.  Not today.”

The call ends, and Nat reluctantly looks at her partner in the driver’s seat.  “What do you want to do?” she sighs.

“What college kids do best,” Clint responds, yanking the steering wheel and pulling the outdated sedan into a parking space.  “Buy beer and Cheez-Its and hunker down for the weekend.”  

“We’re not college kids.”  Nat rolls her eyes.  “We’re too old.”  She looks at the messy pile of plagiarized papers and textbooks in the backseat.  “Grad students.  There’s a difference.  And if you think I’m hunkering down with you…” She shakes her head.

But Clint’s already killed the ignition and hopped out of the car.  “Gimme five minutes,” he mumbles, digging in his wallet for the crumpled cash they’ve been given as mission allowance.

“Smirnoff,” Nat calls after him.  “Don’t just get Bud Light or whatever you think you call alcohol.”

Nat puts her feet up on the dash, and, true to his word, not five minutes later, Clint returns with two clanking glass bottles, a case of beer, and a bag stuffed with more snacks than should be allowed in human existence.  

“Barbeque flavored pork rinds?”  Nat pinches the package between two fingers and wrinkles her nose.  “What the fuck?”  

“Drink enough of the good stuff and you don’t taste ‘em,” Clint replies.  

“Then why’d you buy them?”

He shrugs.  “Cheap.”

“You are a fucking college kid.”

Clint swerves back onto the road and gets them back to their ghetto apartment, which was supposed to be theirs just for the weekend.  Now Nat considers the air mattress and pair of open suitcases on the floor and wonders just how long they can make this work without blowing up.  Or fucking.  The alcohol will surely smooth things over in potentially a good or a very, very bad way.

They tromp loudly up the metal stairs, complaining about their heavy backpacks, yet blessing the university system for giving them extra time to work on their term papers.  In the joke to end the ages, they’ve traded specialties.  Clint’s studying Russian, and Nat’s working on tactical physics.  They’re not just assassins; they have smarts too.

Once inside the tiny studio, Clint sets up a pair of laptops while Nat hooks in a daisy chain of cords that eventually brings an image of their target onto one screen, and footage of his empty office onto the other.  

“We’re really gonna watch him play soccer with his kids?”  Clint shakes his head.

“I’ll watch that one, if you’d rather,” Nat offers.  “You can watch the dust motes on the other one.”  She points to the empty office, silent save for the low rumble of traffic still passing the window outside.

“Fine, fine.”  Clint pops a beer and opens a bag of snack mix.  

Nat actually watches the sloppy goings on of Beckham, jr. for a while, just to spite Clint.  Then she can’t resist the vodka anymore.  

“Slow down on that,” Clint advises, raising his eyebrows at the half-empty bottle Nat keeps lifting to her lips.  “I don’t want to deal with you when you’ve got a hangover.”

“Hmph.”  Nat throws one of Clint’s three empty beer cans at his head.  “Same to you, princess.”

When half the booze is gone, Clint’s shirt’s off.  He’s sweating, and leaning against the wall.  

“Should I get a bucket or something?”  Nat asks, refusing to admit to the slight slur on her tongue.  

“Nope.”  Clint wipes his brow on the back of his hand.  “’M fine.  But what kind of bra are you wearing?  Is it a cute one?”

He cocks his head in a way that Nat has to admit goes somewhere between her heart and her pants.  Her gut, she supposes.  

“Lightweight bulletproof vest, babe,” she replies.  “Not that cute.”

“Oh.”  Clint’s face falls, but Nat starts to laugh.  Then Clint laughs.  Gags a couple of times.  Insists he’s fine again.

“You sure about that?”

Clint nods emphatically, even though he’s green.  

“Two choices, then.  You either proof my paper, or we can play chess.”

“Internet chess?”  Clint looks confused.

“Nope.”  Nat rummages in her suitcase and pulls the dented magnetic chessboard from an inside pocket.  “I never travel without it.  Just in case, you know.”

“In case of what?”

Nat shrugs.  “This, I guess.”

It’s Clint’s turn to give a hearty harrumph.  “Black or white?” he asks.

“I’m black, of course,” Nat says, setting up her pieces.  “You’re too pure to be anything but white.”

“Riiiiight.  But, really, what’s under the bulletproof vest?”

Nat flicks a pawn at him, which hits him directly in the forehead, leaving a pink indent.

“Concentrate.  Or I’ll do it for you.”

“Scary.”  Clint turns his gaze down to his pieces.

It takes roughly ten minutes of play for Nat to corner his king, but she humors him, going along good naturedly as half-watches the target switch to Frisbee instead of soccer ball on the CCTV.  She expects this to go on for an hour or more, giving her plenty of time to plan how to maneuver Clint into the makeshift bed to sleep off his own stupidity.  Usually it wouldn’t take a nanosecond, but Nat has to admit, she’s a little slammed too.  The last decade hasn’t been the kindest to her once-untouchable composition.

It’s all cut short, though, when Clint opens his mouth, to decry her tactics, Nat thinks, but instead he vomits up warm beer and lumpy orange something all over the board.

“Oh, wonderful,” Nat says sarcastically, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling his head against her chest as she drags him into the cramped bathroom.  “I was waiting for that.”

“Sure,” Clint sputters, gulping and smacking his wet lips.  “I can’t—I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, I know.”  Nat positions him over the toilet, using the overgrown hair at the scruff of his neck as a handle.

“Fucking—ow—“ He retches again.

“Shut up.”  Nat ignores him and looks down at herself, the front of her pale grey t-shirt covered in neon bodily fluids.  She sighs and grabs the hem, pulling the garment over her head and flinging it into the corner of the shower stall.  

“It is kinda cute,” Clint mutters, turning his head so his cheek rests on the toilet seat.  He raises his brows and nods toward the invisible zipper of Nat’s bulletproof vest, buried in the center of her cleavage.  

“I thought I told you to shut up,” Nat replies.  The words hang in the air between them for a moment.  But then the corner of Clint’s mouth ticks up into half a smile. He’s drunk, and he probably can’t help it.

And Nat can’t help it, either.

[stardancerluv]

Brother’s Keeper

Part 3

Summary: After a night with your longtime friend/crush, recent escapee Brendan Lynch who you were “given to” you wake up and go and grab some things for the two of you.

Warning: language

Quiet a few hours later, you woke up. Somehow, in your sleep you had managed to have curled up to Brendan’s side and his arm held you close. You sighed. There had been so many times when you had wanted, wished to wake up to him.

As carefully as possible, you slid from his grasp and the bed. He remained silently asleep. You smiled as you watched his hand go and itch at his bare chest before his hand remained there, deep in slumber

He was as big as a bear. You were all a flutter as you thought back to the night before. Your stomach lurched as you watched him. Sure, you still had the pudding from last night but he and you needed something to sink your teeth into.

Grabbing your duffle bag you disappeared into the bathroom. Once in there, it dawned on you to check your phone. Your heart sank when you read, One notification... Unread email from BOSS. He better not have changed his mind and gonna try to send that blonde bimbo out to replace you.

Babydoll,

Last night, I was drunk on victory. I was beyond happy that my best man had safely come back into the fold. You know how much I adore you!

So accept my apology for giving you to Brendan. He is a bit of a sap. Weak heart. Good brains, no grit. I am sure he will treat you fine. He gets out of line, tell me I will snip him.

If you need relief or have grown tired of the old man, Jenni said she, she saw you two leave. She is more then willing to help you handle him. And we know how good she is at making men happy.

You will be missed at the bar, babygirl

Friday, I will make it up to you.

Till then, Lenny.

How stupid did he think you were? You shook your head. You knew, he never did anything he didn’t want to nor did he make mistakes. Well, he had no idea what kind of man Brendan was and that was good. But everything, else he ever said or did was methodical.

You knew deep in your heart that he “gave you” to Brendan to teach you a lesson. You cost him a lot of money when he had to get rid of the man who spent a lot of cash whenever he was in when he had groped you. No matter. You will play the role of being a happy little girl as far as he was concerned. It was true but he didn’t have to know that.

Lenny,

I was a little hurt when you did that. I want to be good for you. I want you to be proud of me. That’s why I am the babygirl of the bar, right?

That last part made you ill to write. But you couldn’t let him know how you felt..

So Lenny, please I am doing all I can to keep your best man happy. As only a girl can do after a man had been locked up. Thanks to you he will feel like a king.

Like you said, he is a bit of a sap. He’s has been fine. So no apology or snipping needed. I am happy to say, I don’t need any help. Jenni can help elsewhere. And no need to make any of this up to me. You already did so much just the other day, sending me to the spa and to the stores. I felt so special.

I better get back to it!

See you on Friday.

Babygirl

You hit send and rolled your eyes then tossed your phone back into your duffle bag.

You took a fast shower and changed into some fresh clothes. Coming back out you saw that he was still soundly asleep. You smiled. He deserved it.

Kneeling by his suitcase, you opened it. You were not trying to be nosey. You wanted to see what he could possibly need. You gasped when you saw a gun. Made a hot knot blossom in your stomach. You certainly wanted to see him handle it. You thought despite yourself.

Looking a little further, you saw he needed a few things. You’d get breakfast and perhaps a few other things, since him being out and about wasn’t the best of ideas.

Finding a notepad in the nightstand drawer you quickly scrawled a note for Brendan.

BLT,

I woke up starving. Went to grab us some breakfast. Also to grab you a few things for you.

Lenny, sent me an interesting email. Did he send you one?

Be back soon! Enjoy your pudding while I’m gone.

❤️

She gave it a kiss, then put it down. And hoping this wouldn’t wake him. You bent over and gave him a soft kiss. Relief, he remained asleep, locking the door behind you and putting out the do not disturb you were confident no one would bother you.

******

Grumbling, scratching his chest Brendan looked around. “Y/N, are you here?”

Silence greeted him. Your side of the bed had grown cold. He made a face.

Rubbing his face, he wondered where you could be. Tearing the blanket aside he sat up, swinging his legs over the side.

His eyes caught something. He saw your note and smiled. Relaxing, he stretched. Getting up, he decided to go and take a shower.

*****

“Grabbing something for your husband?” Asked the stooped over woman with small black eyes.

“Oh..um no. My boyfriend.” You went through then jeans and grabbed a pair not for a shirt or two, you mused.

“Ah.”

You swore you could see some level of disapproval but you didn’t care.

“Need any help?”

“Nope! I know what he likes.”

You happily swung the bags at your side as you walked back to your car.

****

He eyed the clock. When had you fucking left. He’s already had been awake and showered for an hour.

He angrily chewed at his gum. You had a point, he had better see if that asshole emailed him. Sure enough, he had a few notifications. He read the one from Sterlo first.

Brendan

She’s a good girl. I like her.

You dodged a bullet with Jenni. Apparently, she saw you walking out. I got stuck with her. At least she satisfied my itch before seeing the wifie.

Wifie, is good and so is ma daughter. She grew like a weed. Let’s meet on Thursday. Bring Y/N. I’ll put on a display for the wife.

While girls chat, can catch up and play a game of chess. I’m in the north maybe one, maybe one and a half. Just past the Rounoake Bar. Being some beer.

Sterlo

Fuckin’ Sterlo he thought. Smiling. He wrote a response.

Sterlo

She was interesting, tried to get Y/N to give me to her.

Yeah, Y/N is a sweetheart. Ya, wifie will like her. It will make a road less bumpy.

See you on Thursday.

B

******

After putting the bags into the car, you went to get some food. In your head, you tried to remember some of the things that he had told you he missed. Like being struck by lightning struck, you remembered. Smiling, you were on a mission.

It took some time, with it all packed up at the last moment, you decided to go and grab a few packs of his favorite beer. Later perhaps, they grab a meal in the motel or something but now this would be a great lunch.

Finding a liquor store nearby she felt lost among the tall looming shelves of the beer. As she looked about she remembered one of her first moment with beer.

It was a hot summer, you were wearing a brand new dress. You had wanted look exceptionally pretty. Helping mom, the two of put out a very smart spread. Michael was out back with Brendan who was fiddling more like cursing at the barbecue. It would be the first of the season to cook on it.

Michael had wandered in to grab more matches. You had swished and went over to Brendan, to offer him a nice ice cold beer.

“Fuck, why don’t you just ignite.” He went and leaned against the table beside it. He ran am exasperated hand through his hair.

“What’s the matter?”

“The fuck...I mean,” He gave you one of his devil care smiles, you made you feel all sorts of bubbly. “It just won’t light.”

“Well, here this will surely make you feel better.” You handed him the beer.

“You are a life saver, Y/N.” He twisted off the came and took a big gulp then he sighed.

He was so cute, you thought.

“Y/N,” He whispered. “Have you ever tried beer?”

“No! I am not allowed.”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Well...you deserve it. Try a little bit.” He said very conspiratorial tone. “I promise not to tell.”

You looked around. Was just the two of you. “Ok!” You took the bottle from his hands and toll a sip. You gasped, but you could’t tell him you hated it. You swallowed your sip. “Oh! That was interesting.” You had coughed.

Your brother had teased you and your mom, who let Brendan off lightly...had punished you into the next week. Young ladies do no sneak drinks...ladies don’t do this or that. You rolled your eyes at the memory.

His lips a grim line, he finally opened the email from Lenny.

Brendan

So welcome home again! How are ya making out?

Has you dick fallen off yet?

An ex boyfriend of hers and an associate of mine told me, she a very eager when it comes to giving blow jobs and spreading her legs. I would not know personally. That’s why I gave her to you. You deserve someone fresh.

She lost me a great amount of money some months back, playing at being a coy little number. I figured I’d finally get back some of what I lost.

Anger burned hot in Brendan’s blood. He had to finish reading it and write some kind of response.

However, since you are the man of the hour...I have a girl, Jenni. I believe you bumped into her. She is even better then Y/N. Her, I did sample and she will make you see stars. So if you wanna switch it up, since basically girls can be like hands. You get tired of using the same one. So she is just a phone call away.

Anyhow! Enjoy your time back in the real world. See you at a eleven thirty sharp at the house.

Lenny

It took everything to not throw the phone across the room.

Mother fucker. He seethed.

Lenny

I am surprised it hasn’t. She almost took me in your kitchen.

She is quite the tasty treat to come home to after all that time. Don’t need anyone else. She also has the stamina that I need.

She’s my type. A short curvy body, hair you can tug on. You have made me very happy.

She begging again. Better go.

Eleven-thirty am, your house on Friday.

Brendan.

He hit send, put then phone on the night stand Tearing open the fridge, he smiled when he saw that the liquor was well stocked was a decent selection. Grabbing some bottles, they clinked when he grabbed them. He twisted the caps off he soon went through four of them. His belly was warm. He was feeling good. Sighing, he tilted his head from side cracking his neck.

It was almost two hours now, he was growing anxious. What if something happened to you. He tried to breath evenly. But he grabbed his gun and made sure it was ready and loaded.

@theblackmaskclub @rosionis @darling-i-read-it @brookisbi @johallzy

[myfanfictiongarden]

The Scarlet Thread- The Mentalist fanfic

This happens right after 4x24 “The Crimson Hat”

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

The glass door swung shut behind him, the corridors in front suddenly appeared like a maze he needed to escape. The bright office lights are blinding and seem mocking to the eyes that witnessed so much darkness. Usually, the symphony of voices, people typing on their computers, drawers opening and closing, papers rustling, it all were calming sounds, but right now he heard none of it, his steps leading him steady up the many flights of stairs, never stopping, all till he faced the familiar metallic door. He makes it slide open, careful to close it properly behind him. The room is practically dark, the big panelled window letting in the last rays of twilight. Only hours ago, only hours, the burning sun shone on the streets outside of Las Vegas, desert wind blowing over the bare ground. Then it it all disappeared like a mirage, nothing more than an illusion, a good magic trick. Now, deep shadows are all around him, dark as the night, sharp as a knife. His breathing, perfectly even till now, catches ever so slightly and it takes a moment to calm it down again. 

This was it. He was so close now, he could feel it. Nine years, nine years of hide and seek, of clues and disappointments, of pain and loss. Now it was drawing close, now he had the upper hand, now he had her. Lorelei, the name that urges caution today as much as way back when German poets first mentioned it.

There is a moment when his brain comes to a halt, it isn’t long, never long for him, but it troubles him nevertheless. It is easy to make people think you are always two steps ahead of them, easy to fool them that you are smarter then everyone because you usually are, easy to play your games with the ignorant. It is easy. Yet, a part of him that is stored far away knows exactly how ignorant he himself is most of the time. Despite how he made sure everyone should think he has everything planed out, he doesn’t always. And it makes him afraid that he can fall for another ones twisted game.

For a while he paces the room, his barren attic study, his barren cold world. The last rays of light are gone and everything is plumbed into darkness. Slowly and without a sound he sits down on his provisory bed, troubled thoughts engulfing him once more.

“You will tell us everything.”

“No, I won’t, lover.”

His lips become thin and his head falls to his chess. There is so much he has to fix. He needs them to forgive him. 

Soon, darling. I promise.

---

The door swings shut and suddenly she is alone with this woman. In the half dark of the interrogation room an uncomfortable silence spreads as they both sit quietly. The woman, Lorelei, seems perfectly at ease and so calm that it becomes eery to stare at her, looking like into a dark mirror that reflects exactly the opposite of what you feel. Lorelei´s eyes practically sparkle with content, the lips move into a sly smile and for her the room turns cold. 

Quickly she exits the room too, advising Carl who had been waiting outside to take extra caution with the prisoner. Hoping to steady herself she walks over to the rest of the team to check how they are doing. Cho is sitting by his desk while Rigbsby is only leaning on his and right at his feet the moment she steps in. Van Pelt meanwhile must have been staring at her dark computer for she turns around in her chair like just waking up out of a dream.

“She said anything?” Rigsby is the first to ask.

“Not really. She’s quiet.”

“Of course she is. Like Red John´s girlfriend gonna sing.” Cho´s remark hangs in the air for a while, all of them remembering Rebecca and how loyal all the mad-mans followers are.

“How’s Jane taking it? I passed him when he went up but he didn’t notice me.” Van Pelt asks rather carefully, like sure he isn’t taking this days well at all.

“Lots of things he has to think about. You know him, its a big catch for him.”

“Even though the big one slipped again.” Again Cho´s even voice spells out the facts and not for the first time she wishes she could be as calm as he.

“Its still a catch. Now, I got some documents to look over, you guys call it a night. See ya tomorrow.” There wasn’t anything they could do today anymore and she well knew they needed a good nights rest, they all looked the part.

So, slowly they all got their things and moved to leave, while she made her way towards her office to do paperwork. While entering it somehow it stuck her that her office looks exactly like it usually does, a contrast to everything that has been going on these past two days. Odd how these things work. It is quite late and soon barely anyone will be left in the building. Barely.

“You will tell us everything.”

“No, I won’t, lover.” 

Then the last two days come crushing down on her, the adrenalin used up and it's all there. Shivers run down her whole body, giving her the need to sit down on the couch, legs not supporting her any longer. Shutting her eyes close she knows what it is. It’s the voice, the voice and that look that make her feel cold, the eyes of that woman. Lorelei. 

She wonders about many things, her thoughts always leading back to the man in the shabby attic. At times it seems all too much, yet a quiet dread grips her when thinking how it would be if she wasn’t there, if he were on this journey, this crusade all alone. And every thought of him being alone makes her keep going. With him. And she knows it’ll be till the end.

[dactyliin-blog]

@shipitliketheussenterprise I think I’m gonna post these separate from the actual ask as I finish them because they were such good prompts and I got a little overenthusiastic so they’re going to be pretty long. I hope that’s ok?  

1. Spock is AMAZING at cooking because he is great at following directions exactly and Jim gets to try his food for the first time

Objectively, Jim knows that Spock can cook. It’s not a secret. In fact, it’s whatever the exact opposite of a secret is - because literally everyone on bridge crew has had Spock’s cooking. Uhura talks about Spock’s homemade plomeek soup almost every time Jim has lunch with her. Bones has several recipe cards for, like, rolls and fruit salads and whatever else Spock can whip out during his free hours. Jim’s pretty sure Chekov even teared up a little last week when Sulu asked him where he got the steamed buns he brought into the caf for lunch.

Not that Jim’s jealous - oh, no. That would be completely ridiculous. There’s nothing to be jealous about - sure, Spock’s Jim’s boyfriend, and his first officer, and probably his one soulmate in the entire universe, but whatever. No jealousy there. Definitely not.

They’re playing chess - because what else do you do on date night, when you’re trapped aboard a spaceship and the number of times you can make out on the observation deck before it gets old has already come and gone - and Jim’s looking across the board at Spock, who’s looking back and doing that thing where he smiles without actually doing anything with his face, when Spock says, “Jim.”

“Yeah,” Jim says, because he’s maybe a little lost in the cool dark of Spock’s eyes.

“I would like to make you dinner,” Spock says, and Jim blinks.

“Uh,” he says, and then Spock’s words hit home and Jim scrambles. “Yes. Absolutely. Yes. Oh, thank God, you do not want to know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

Jim scoots around the table and leans in to kiss Spock’s cheek. Spock’s eyes widen the barest fraction. Jim thinks - he might imagine it, but he thinks - that he hears a hitch in Spock’s breathing.

Nice, Jim thinks. He smiles against Spock’s skin before leaning away again. Spock barely waits at all before he chases the touch, leaning his weight into Jim.

It’s another week, maybe a week and a half before they have enough of a break from everything. Spock comes to Jim’s quarters, a bag of ingredients in hand. As captain of the Enterprise, Jim has access to a private kitchen. Though they use the replicator for meals most often, the ship does have the means of providing fresh food - fruit, vegetables and herbs grown in the arboretum, other ingredients stored on board in limited supply - should the crew want to indulge.

Jim watches Spock unpack with interest.

“I thought something similar to the stroganoff you eat on earth,” Spock says. “Sulu has excelled in the cultivation of mushrooms, and I have been told that my noodles are adequate.”

“Yeah they are,” Jim says. He winks at Spock across the counter and is rewarded by the faint green flush that spreads over Spock’s features.

Jim helps by cutting mushrooms, stirring things that Spock tells him to stir, and tasting things, whether or not he has permission. The end result is...well.

“I,” Jim says around a mouthful of whatever Spock’s made, “love you so much.” It’s not quite stroganoff, but Jim can’t quite detail how it’s different because it’s so freaking good.

Spock looks up from where he’s been studiously twirling noodles around his fork.

“Had I known that my skills would have such an effect on you, I might have cooked for you sooner,” he says. Spock puts the fork down and stretches his hand across the table to clasp Jim’s own. “I love you too, Jim.”

Things only go up from there.

[smartgirlsaremean]

Expanded universe ask game for fanfic writers!: Avonlea Books + 5?

OOPS MY HAND SLIPPED

Previously on Avonlea Books, Belle and Gold attended a launch party for her first children’s book. They were engaged to be married.

TEN YEARS LATER

Warmth and savory smells washed over Henry as he let himself into the Park Avenue brownstone. He’d barely had time to take off his coat before there was a thundering of footsteps in the hall, and three small bodies launched themselves at him. Grunting, he stumbled slightly on impact, but tried his best to hug all three kids back at the same time.

“Mama! Papa! Henry’s here!” yelled the youngest of them, her big brown eyes shining.

Henry reached out and ruffled her dark hair. “Hey, Aunt Miranda. You ready for some turkey?”

She nodded and grinned. “Papa bought two! He said with this many people and your hollow legs, we’d need enough food for an army. Do you really have hollow legs, Henry?”

“That’s just an expression, Randy, it means I eat a lot.” Henry put an arm around the boy nearest him and squeezed. “How ya doin’, Jake? Ready to get your butt kicked at Mario Kart?”

“Yeah, right,” his kid brother snorted. “I’m the best. I beat everybody.”

“That’s not true,” piped up eight-year-old Gideon. “Mama beat you last night.”

Jake frowned at the other boy. “I let her win.”

“You did not!”

“I did too!”

“You can’t argue with me, I’m your uncle!”

“Nuh-uh! You’re younger than I am, and uncles are older. Right, Henry?”

“Uh…well, Gid is Dad’s brother, Jake. So…I mean, yeah, he is our uncle.” Gideon stuck his tongue out at his nephew, and Jake scowled. “But that doesn’t mean…”

“Gideon, be nice to Jake.” Henry looked up to see that Belle had appeared, her face stern. “We’ve talked about this - just because you’re his uncle doesn’t mean you can boss him around.” Jake made a face at Gideon and Henry sighed. He loved them both, but they were so…competitive. Adolescence was gonna be a nightmare. “I wondered where my helpers had gone,” Belle continued. “Who wants to peel potatoes.”

“I do!” Jake said quickly. “Can I use a real knife instead of the peeler?”

“Not til you’re older, sweetheart. Come on, I’ll get you started. Gideon, will you help Miranda change her dress again?” Belle eyed her daughter’s outfit, which was covered in flour and butter and God knew what else. “Actually, Randy, darling, don’t worry about a dress. Put on some of your play clothes and you can change right before dinner. Honestly,” Belle confided to Henry as Gideon led his sister upstairs, “I don’t know why I thought the dress was a good idea. She’s the least dressy person I’ve ever met.”

Henry smiled and put his arms around her when she hugged him. “Your dad and grandpa are in the study,” she said. “Jefferson and Grace should be here any minute.”

Henry swallowed around a suddenly dry throat, smiled, and headed down the hall. He’d known Grace for years - her dad worked for his, and had once worked for Belle - and they’d been friends since middle school. They’d even shared a high school graduation party. She was cool, if a little weird, but that wasn’t surprising considering that her dad wore top hats and smiled like a Cheshire cat. He’d gone to school in Boston while she’d stayed in New York, and for one reason or another they had dropped out of touch, never quite managing to be at home at the same time, even during the summer. And then he’d run into her in Atlantic City on Spring Break, and…well, he hadn’t remembered her being quite so pretty. Or so funny. Or so…everything.

He took a breath and reminded himself that the last thing he needed was his grandfather figuring out he had a thing for Grace. Roderick Gold might be ruthless as a businessman, but he was an equally devoted family man, and the merest whiff of a possibility of a granddaughter-in-law would have him on high alert. Not that Henry’d even had the nerve to send Grace more than a couple of friendly emails, but that wouldn’t stop his grandfather from speculating.

“That’s a pretty good location, but when you retire aren’t you supposed to stop working?” his dad’s voice sounded fondly exasperated, and Henry walked in to find his grandfather and father hunched over some papers at the desk.

“I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in eight years,” Grandpa said dryly. “I’m quite looking forward to spending a few hours a day in a dark shop surrounded by inanimate objects.”

“Hey,” Henry said, drawing their attention.

“Hey, Henry,” Grandpa smiled.

Dad stood and walked over to pull him into a hug. “The roads weren’t bad, were they?”

“Nah, just a little wet. Did you guys finally pick a place for Grandpa’s store?”

“Yeah, it’s a few blocks away from the Greenwich Village store, so I can still bug him if I need to.”

“You’ve just done fine without me,” Grandpa pointed out. “You could probably have done even better if you’d taken the CEO position, though.”

“Nah, I like the VP spot better, you know that. Smith’s doing fine.”

“Is anyone from Belle’s side coming this year?” Henry asked. He didn’t know his step-grandmother’s family very well, but Joan was a hoot and Maurice was nice.

“No, they’re spending the holidays with Joan’s family.”

The doorbell rang and Dad waggled his eyebrows at Grandpa before heading to the door. Henry grinned when he heard his other grandparents’ voices. Grandma and Grandpa Nolan were very nice, and he loved them, but they always treated his Grandpa Gold like he was a tamed beast ready to snap its tether at any moment. Gold rolled his eyes and limped out into the hallway to welcome his guests properly.

Henry took a deep breath and looked around the study. Belle’s books had a place of honor just behind the desk - the two best-selling kids’ books that had made her name and the four others that hadn’t done quite as well. There was also a chess table set up to one side, the pieces in the middle of a game. As he looked over the game, trying to determine who was closest to checkmate, he heard the doorbell ring again.

He hoped there would be enough room for everyone, and that Ruby and her grandmother got here soon. Ruby had taken over the diner when her granny retired, and she always brought pie. Really, really good pie.

“Hi, Henry.”

His hand jerked and he knocked over one of the pawns on the board. He reached for it, trying to right it, but he missed and sent a few more pieces flying. “Shit,” he muttered. Panicking, he tried to duck down to pick up the dropped pieces, and his head hit the board, sending everything scattering across the floor.

“Are you okay?”

He turned to look at Grace, who looked like she wanted to laugh. “Yeah, I just…wow, Grandpa’s gonna be pissed.”

She pressed her lips together and fought a smile, her blue eyes sparkling, and Henry flushed. “It’s good to see you.”

He smiled mutely and gathered the pawns to set them back on the board. Of course he had to act like a complete idiot around a cute girl. His dad and grandpa had been the same way. Why couldn’t he have inherited his Grandpa Nolan’s smooth charm?

Grace seemed determined to talk to him, though, so that was good. “Are you still majoring in creative writing?” she asked.

“Double majoring. Creative writing and business management.” Henry gathered the pawns and set them back on the board. “How’s biology going?” Grace was going to be a veterinarian, which made sense because she was crazier about animals than anyone he knew, except maybe Ruby.

“Not bad. A lot of labs and late-night cramming sessions.” She bit her lip and looked behind her. “Look, you didn’t…you didn’t tell anyone that we met in Atlantic City, did you?”

“Uh…no. I mean, it’s not like I was supposed to be there either,” he pointed out. Neither of them were twenty-one yet, and it was sheer luck that they hadn’t been caught. Spring Break was supposed to be for good times and minor rule-breaking, but he knew neither of their parents would see it that way.

“Okay, good. It was nice to see you and everything, but if Dad knew…”

“Yeah. It’ll be our secret.”

Grace smiled. “I like that. Our secret.”

“Yeah.”

She leaned past him and looked at the board. “Who was winning?”

“No idea.” She was too close, and Henry leaned away. “Probably Grandpa, though. He’s the chess master, after all.”

“Yeah, but I bet Belle has ways of distracting him.”

“Don’t go there,” Henry warned. “Just don’t.”

“They have two kids, Henry. It’s not like you don’t know…”

“I can pretend they hatched out of eggs, can’t I? I mean it’s bad enough with my parents, but…”

“I think it’s sweet. They’re obviously still crazy about each other.” She shook her head. “I’ve always hoped I’d find someone I loved as much as Belle loves Mr. Gold.”

A soft smile worked its way onto Henry’s face. “Yeah, me too. Or my parents. They’re still pretty distressingly into each other. Of course, they did meet stealing a car, so I don’t think I wanna copy them too closely.”

“And I’d rather not fall for my future husband while he’s putting me out of business.” Grace looked thoughtful. “I guess what I like most about your parents and grandparents is that they’re friends, y’know? I mean they love each other, but they also really like each other. That’s important in a relationship, don’t you think?”

“Uh…yeah, that’s…that’s important.” Henry realized he was holding his breath and released it. “I was, uh…I was wondering if you…”

“Hey, kid, Grandma Nolan’s looking for you.” His mom poked her head in the door. “Hey, Grace.”

“Hi, Mrs. Gold.”

“God, call me Emma, please. Henry, come out here before she drives your grandpa crazy,” Mom said, and Henry couldn’t quite keep the slight grimace from his face. “Or…is this bad timing?” Her eyes turned speculative and she glanced between them with a sly grin.

“It’s fine,” Henry said hastily.

“‘Cause I can make your excuses, tell everyone you’re in here entertaining a pretty young lady all by…”

“Oh my God,” Henry groaned. He moved to the door, but Grace stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“We should get coffee tomorrow. Catch up.” Her eyes searched his. “That’s what you were going to ask me, right?”

“Yeah. Um. Cool. I gotta…” At her nod and smile, he walked to his mother, who was smiling widely.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

“Your grandpas are gonna be thrilled,” she teased.

“Why do I come back here?” Henry asked the ceiling. “Why do I torture myself like this?”

“Because you love us,” his mom pointed out, taking his arm.

He tried to scowl, but he couldn’t, because she was right. They were weird and mixed-up and complicated, but they were his family, and during the holidays there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

[john-stints-blog]

Last Ride of the Blood Letters Part 1: 1

Hey folks, this is the beginning of my in-progress novel, The Last Ride of the Blood Letters (Working Title). It's a "science-fiction-like-Star-Wars-is-science-fiction" novel I started for NaNoWriMo 2016....totally failed at THAT, by the way--but I haven't quit working on the book! As a way of encouraging/putting a fire under my ass, I've decided to start serial-posting chapters of the book weekly until I've posted the whole thing. Which means I've got to keep writing so I don't catch up to myself.

I'll mention now--this is FIRST DRAFT. So, typos, grammar, all of that good shit....well, I do my best to edit while I write, and I think I'm pretty decent at it--but if you notice anything, commenting about it would be really nice as long as you're not an asshole about it.

The Last Ride of the Blood Letters

A long time from now, in a galaxy uncomfortably near…

1.

“The show always looks the same to me, T-12. I don’t get it.”

“Considering that most of the consumers of these videos are beings who intend to be chemically addled beyond sentience while viewing them, I do not believe it matters.”

“That’s a good point.”

Rab sat in the pilot’s seat of the Downed Horizon, being careful to keep his right eye trained on the colors and shapes moving outside the cockpit.

Travel through intraspace was, without a doubt, a captivating thing to look at—it was said that more colors than any single being could comprehend passed by as a ship made its way through. In a ten-minute video, a Human would see every color they’d ever known—and some they hadn’t. Even that didn’t explain it.

The shapes were beyond drawing. The colors—beyond understanding.

Rab used to be fascinated by it—he used to stand in the cockpit of the Downed Horizon, staring as intraspace passed by, amazed by it. His old pilot, Cress, had said that it made him nervous to have someone looking over his shoulder—and Rab would have to assure the little Chig that he wasn’t paying attention to the piloting at all—just the show passing before them.

But, like anything, familiarity destroyed wonderment.

At this point, Rab was bored. He’d recorded the last fifteen minutes of their intraspace journey using his cyborg eye—and his patience was wearing thin for maintaining the view.

Sending an impulse to the tiny computer stored in his right eye socket with a thought, Rab shut down the recording.

“I think we’re done with that for now.”

“Are you sure? The journey to Eunthis should take another hour and fourteen minutes. I would imagine there is a lot more material your audience would appreciate.”

“I’m sure they would—but I’m done. Gonna get a quick nap before we drop the cargo.”

Rab pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and pulled open the small flesh-colored flap on his wrist that covered a computer-interfacing cable. Grimacing as he always did, he pulled the cable out, extending from his wrist, and plugged it into the onboard computer of the Downed Horizon.

He’d had the prosthetic arm for nearly two years—but the light tickle of unwinding the interface-cable  from within his ‘arm’ hadn’t ceased to unnerve him. He’d considered having a techie turn off the sensation signals in the arm—or even seeing if T-12 could do it—but there was a part of him that still wanted to be able to feel the other sensations the arm was capable of.

If Rab hadn’t been so cheap with his biological replacements, he would have been able to choose which sensation signals he received. But he had been—and a fully new arm was out of the question at this point.

Rab was struck by how silly—how sad—it was that he was down to this—using his prosthetic eye to record videos of pretty colors for chemical abusers to entertain themselves with.

The Blood Letters had done real work—and they’d made real money doing it. And now? He was delivering barely-illegal cargo to backspace planets and selling vids to life-wasters to keep the Downed Horizon, which was also his home, fueled.

While the video of his past fifteen-minutes uploaded itself to the ship’s local hard drive, Rab could feel T-12’s robotic eyes analyzing him.

“If you’re trying to read my biometrics, you can stop. I’m not sick. I’m not disturbed. The injuries from that last delivery have almost fully healed—just some tightness across the ribs when I stretch.”

“I would never condescend to check your vitals without asking you first. I would hope you would know me better.”

Rab thought he could hear actual indignation in the war bot’s vocoder-induced voice. He turned and looked at T-12.

It seemed so rare for him to actually look at T-12 these days. These months. Too much a reminder of how things had gone. Of what had happened.

His black-metaled, Humanoid form was as comforting as a dog foaming at the mouth, but Rab had known the robot long enough to know that T-12 would never do him harm.

Rab appreciated the company, of course. T-12 was a decent conversationist—and a damned good chess player who would (only) occasionally let him win—but he was still…A robot.

Rab was struck by his own softness—had he not spent nearly eight years completely alone on the streets of New Earth, fending for himself?

Had he not done things he could no longer speak of in order to stay alive? Stolen from people—hurt people—even killed those who would have threatened his existence?

He had done everything necessary—and nothing short of it. He wasn’t sorry for it.

There was no warmth on those streets—New Earth may have had a temperate climate, but Rab still felt a to-the-bones chill when he thought of the planet and his childhood there.

And here he was—bemoaning that his only company was a war bot who would die before allowing him to suffer harm?

Straighten up, man. You’ve had it far worse. Remember how it was when you and Reese—

But again, Rab was struck by memory.

Reese was dead. Nostalgia wouldn’t bring her back. Wishes wouldn’t put oxygen in her lungs—and even if it did, after what that monster did to her—

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

Rab has spent the first few months after…what had happened…recoiling emotionally. He’d set the Downed Horizon on a drifting course towards a distant sun.

It would have taken a month for the ship to reach the sun and burn to a crisp, ending his life.

T-12 had been aboard and had agreed to not do anything to stop their fate.

Because T-12 believed in him. As much as a robot could believe in a Human. Rab supposed that T-12 wasn’t like most robots—he was certainly capable of more critical thought. Maybe he’d known all along that Rab wouldn’t let the ship become ashes.

And he hadn’t. That was why they were now on the way to a planet no one cared about to deliver something the Galactic Coalition police probably would have laughed at and allowed through customs without a fuss.

The plant, fairgone, of New Earth was a simple hypnotic—best imbibed by smoking or making a tea from it. It didn’t cause the user any known long-term health problems and consumers of it were often the most docile within their given populace.

Personally, Rab didn’t see the appeal. The drug was useful for relaxing, he’d been told, but Rab had never really understood the concept of that word anyway.

Relax.

It sounded like something in Chig or Nestapian. Foreign to his Common English speaking tongue, hard to pronounce and harder to understand.

No one who grew up on the streets of New Earth took to the idea of relaxation. They all knew exactly what Rab knew—that the second—the microsecond—you did that…that was when the blade dropped on your neck.

[anatolysergievsky]

tell me more of this ..... teenager au?

OKAY THANK YOU FOR ASKING the teenage au is ??? honestly inmy top three favorite aus for chess and it’s really gay and i made it my exactaesthetic of like, neon and old timey movie theaters and diners at night andetc so anyway let’s get into it & kill me

okay so freddie and anatoly meet at a junior championshipwhen they’re both 18

freddie is… sadly shockingly similar when he’s 18 towho he’s going to grow up to be—he’s bitter and headstrong and mean anddefensive, etc… he doesn’t have anyoneat the championship with him. of course neither of his parents would be thereand he’d be having worlds of trouble finding a manager willing to take him onbecause despite his talent, he’d be uncontrollable and would just be one hugecontroversial time bomb

(freddie is very mentally ill and he’s also very lonely andhe’s like, right in the middle of maturing and no one is very sympathetic)

anatoly is very different from who he’s going to grow up tobe. at this point, he’d have just landed molokov as a manager earlier that yearand he would be… ecstatic. he wouldn’t yet realize it wasn’t going to be asperfect as he was imagining. he couldn’t wait to travel, to leave his houselong behind, to pursue his passion, to maybe finally make some friends—so hewould be the happiest he had ever been (or would ever be again). give it ayear, though, and he’d be vibing that “where i want to be” mood

so anyway they meet at the junior championship and of courseit starts with freddie having insulted him on something trivial but anatolybounces back from it extremely well? he manages a laugh and basically justcontinues to chat with freddie anyway and freddie finds himself actually… gladthat anatoly hadn’t just walked off because anatoly starts joking about oneinstance™ of the arbiter having been a hardass earlier and making fun of peopleis something freddie can always get behind

anyway they’re both gay and they both think the other iscute but they both swear that of course they’ll be caught dead before they sayit

so anyway the first night, when the day’s playing hasconcluded and all of the junior players are back in their respective hotelrooms, anatoly runs into freddie at the vending machine at like 1 am andthey’re both like cool i also can never sleep even if my goddamn life dependson it hello

freddie swats anatoly’s hand away when he tries to put hisown dollar in the vending machine and says he’ll buy him something and anatolyprobably feels Gayer than he should over it

they end up chilling in the lobby of the hotel for a whileand then subsequently getting asked to go back to their rooms because they’rebeing loud

(neither of them really want to split up, though, andneither of them are sure they won’t do something… ill-advised if they go backto freddie’s room together and they’re both completely sure the other isstraight so)

so they end up going for a walk around the town thechampionship is held in and by that time it’s like 2 am and it’s kind offreezing and they can see their breath every time they laugh and no stores areopen anymore and anatoly keeps worrying molokov is gonna wake up and see he’sgone but they just keep walking anyway and they end up going to a 24-hour diner

and it’s glow aesthetic because i’m lame but they’re both exhausted so they look all washed outand the neon of the diner isn’t helping but it’s kind of pretty the wayhighlights the dark circles under anatoly’s eyes and the way one of the signsis washing the left side of freddie’s face in pink light that looks just likehis milkshake and their conversation is just flowing on and on and i love themso much ????????????

anyway freddie ends up kissing him (which is a scene I have…meticulously planned out) and it… ends in a lot of miscommunication but thenthe championship is over like a day or two later

and i have the next like FOUR YEARS planned out in the auand if you wanna hear ??? lmk ???? but omg i just noticed how long this wasgetting and since this would basically be the end of act one if it were amusical, i’ll end this particular ask here omfg anyway hmu about this and alsosend in your own gay headcanons @ everyone. love u