#I’m glad they didn’t straighten her hair (much) like they often do. and let her have a long hairstyle

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 5

This is for @goodolefashionedloverboi and @zerokrox-blog who while I was writing this said the same thing Robin does in this in the comments of part 3. “Eddie this isn’t high school anymore, shut up!!” LOL! Thanks for the laughs, guys.

Also originally I had a darker meeting with Joyce (she tells him that if something else happens involving him {the fight with Michelle and the seizure being the first two strikes} he be out of the class) but then I realized Joyce would never. So she didn’t.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

*

Robin’s feet ached as she makes her way to her apartment. Diamond worked the bar to help Opal out, but Steve was missed. Diamond could tend and often did, but it didn’t have the flare Steve did when he slung drinks. Not that Opal was bad either, but again...she was biased and she missed her Steve.

She was so focused on getting home that she nearly ran someone over in her rush.

“Oh shit!” she said, trying to untangle herself from the poor person.

“Buckley?” a voice above her asked.

She looked up to see Eddie holding her up to keep her from falling to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Robin asked as she finally got her feet under her. “If you followed Alice and Steve back here, I’ll call cops. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he said holding his hands up in surrender. “For starters I live it that building over there.” He pointed at the building across from her and Steve’s apartment. “I moved in last month.”

Robin eyed him suspiciously. “You aren’t here to harass Steve?”

Eddie frowned. “When did you get so far up King Steve’s ass? I knew you in band, you hated him as much as I did.”

Robin put her hands on her hips. “Look, yes Steve was an ass in high school, but he changed. And you don’t get go throwing the past in his face. It’s been five years, man. Let. It. Go.”

Eddie shrugged. “You have that girl take Steve back to your apartment because Loch Nora is too far away?” At her blank expression. “You know when you insinuated that I followed him here?”

Robin frowned. “Steve and I live together...” she said slowly as if she was talking to an idiot.

“I didn’t think Harrington was your type, Buckley,” he said, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“He’s not and he knows that, too,” she defended.

“We are talking about the guy who slung the slurs ‘queer’ and ‘fag’ around like his stupid baseball bat, right?” Eddie growled.

“It’s been years!” she bit back. “Let. It. Go.”

Eddie just threw his arms in the air. “Whatever, I need to get home.” And he stalked off toward the building he said was his.

Robin watched as he ran up the stairs, biting her lip. She was going to have to tell Steve about their new neighbor.

Fuck.

*

Robin opened the door to their apartment to see Steve on the couch reading, the only light on in the place is the lamp above him.

“Shit, the seizure cause a migraine?” she whispered as slipped out of her coat and shoes.

He nodded and set the book down. “So it’s a good thing I got you to call me in.”

She nodded and sat down next to him. “I missed you.”

Steve nodded and curled up against her side. “I called Dr Thompson and set up an appointment. I shouldn’t be seizing after just one missed dose.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed, threading her fingers through his hair. “It really scared me.”

“I’m glad you were there,” he murmured. “Did Joyce call you?”

She sighed. As much as she would like to lie and tell him yes. He needed to know the truth. “It was Eddie.”

Steve huffed a bitter laugh. “I guess he’s not a complete ass. He just doesn’t like me.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled. “He also lives in the building across from us.”

Steve straightened up to look her in the eye. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yup!” she said, popping the P. “Met him outside just now.”

He cuddled back up to her side. “I just have to last six months and then I’m gone.”

“I’ll beat him up if he says anything to you,” she growled. “I swear it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the stress of him being an ass was what caused your seizure.”

Steve sighed heavily. She was probably right was the problem. Dr Thompson was going to ask about stressors and Eddie Munson was going to have to go on the list.

She stroked his hair until he fell asleep against her.

*

Eddie didn’t have band practice the next night, so he offered to pick Chrissy up from work. Which she gratefully accepted. When he pulled up to the bar, standing next to her was a large, burly man in a white pinstripe suit. He looked like the comic book character the Kingpin come to life. The only thing he was missing was a gigantic cigar to chew on.

When Eddie pulled up to the curb, Chrissy waved at the man before climbing in.

As he pulled out of the parking lot he asked, “Who was that, then?”

Chrissy smiled. “That’s my boss, Diamond. He’s really nice. Sometimes if it’s too dark, he’ll walk me to the bus stop and stay with me until it comes.”

Eddie nodded. “Seems like a nice guy.”

Chrissy nodded. “They’ve all been great. Although apparently I haven’t met the weekend bouncer, Onyx and he’s not so nice.”

He hummed. “Well, he wouldn’t be a very good bouncer if he was nice.”

She laughed. “That’s what Garnet said.”

“Garnet is the guy you’re training to take over for?” Eddie asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music in his head.

Chrissy grinned. “He’s really nice. And despite the silly rule of not knowing who we are outside of work, he still really close with most of the crew.”

Eddie grinned back. “So a real mother hen, huh?”

Chrissy shrugged. “I mean, I guess. I think the only reason he hasn’t offered to drive me home after work is that Diamond would frown on it.”

He licked his lips slowly. “I’m glad you got this job, sweetheart. It seems like you’re going to do great.”

They were silent in the van for awhile.

“Oh!” Chrissy said suddenly. “You have to come to open mic night!”

Eddie deflated. “A posh place like The Queen’s Crown isn’t going to want to listen to a bunch of washed up metalheads.”

Chrissy pushed at his shoulder. “Apparently lots of big name bands have gotten their start at The Queen’s Crown. What harm would it do to try? You get up there, play three songs, and leave. And maybe, just maybe Diamond will pick Corroded Coffin for one of his fancy gigs where actual fucking music producers show up.”

Eddie pulled over to the side of the road to look her in the eye. “Come again?”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Open mic night is one Saturday a month. And from that list of ten or so bands and solo artists, he picks three to show up and do a full set in front music producers. Not everyone gets a record deal, but they all get a chance.”

Eddie let out a shuddered breath. “Holy fuck, Chrissy.”

She kissed his cheek. “I thought you’d like that. Which is why I signed you guys up for the next one.”

Eddie blinked at her for a moment and then threw his arms around her tightly. “You’re the best!” He kissed her cheek. “Why didn’t we work out again?”

Chrissy laughed, pushing him off her. “Because I’m gay?”

Eddie laughed, too. “Oh, yeah. That’s right.” He grinned at her and then pulled back into traffic to take her home.

*

Steve showed up early to the next class as requested. He was so nervous. He was really worried that she was going to kick him out of her class. He was keeping his head down and his mouth shut. He didn’t want to take a summer class, because then he wouldn’t graduate in June and he’d lose his student teaching position.

Joyce waved him in. “Come in, come in.”

Steve shuffled in and closed the door behind him. He walked up to her desk.

“Pull up a chair,” she instructed.

He pulled out one of the stools and straddled it. “You wanted to speak to me?”

Joyce nodded. “How are you doing?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “I’m okay, I guess. I have an appointment with my neurologist next week to discuss what happened.”

She laced her fingers together and placed her hands on her desk. “How long has this been going on?”

Steve didn’t want to say, but she leveled her mom stare at him and he folded. “Since my second concussion about seven years ago.” And then silently begged her not to do the math.

But she did it anyway. “Ah. From your fist fight with Jonathan.”

Yup. Her oldest son had one hell of a right hook. “I’d rather you didn’t tell him that I have seizures because of that fight. He doesn’t need the guilt.”

She tilted her head and sighed gently. “You say it was your second concussion. When was your first?”

Steve cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. “When I was about one years old, my mom accidentally dropped me and I was rushed to the hospital. My neurologist tells me that when Jonathan hit me he knocked loose something from that first injury that caused the seizures and the migraines.”

“Oh, Steve...” she murmured. “That’s awful. I wish you boys would tell me what you were fighting over.”

Steve licked his lips. Yeah. He was going to take that little secret to his grave, thanks. The last thing he was going to tell Joyce, especially now that she was his teacher was that Steve had hit him when he caught Jonathan taking pictures of girls undressing. And Jonathan had hit back harder.

Him and Jonathan made up later. Steve got him to agree to never do that again, and he wouldn’t tell his mother that her sweet boy was a pervert.

Joyce shook her head. “Are you able to continue the class?” she asked after several long moments of awkward silence.

Steve nodded. “It was a fluke thing. I’ve had a lot of changes in my life recently and it activated my epilepsy. My doctor will probably adjust my dosage for awhile and then I’ll be back to normal.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or as normal as I get.”

Joyce nodded. “If you need anything let me know. I want to see you do well in this class.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I do too.”

She looked up at the clock. “All right, it’s about time for class to start, so go ahead and sit down. I’ll open the door.”

Steve got up and went to his seat. He watched as the other students filed in. That had gone better than he hoped it would. Robin would tell him that it was just his anxiety talking when he got like this. Didn’t stop his brain from filling in the worst doom’s day scenarios, though. 

Part 6  Part 7  Part 8 Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1@scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish  @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity 

[draumstafir-blog]

litg s2 | saying nope | chapter 4

pairing: mc x noah

the air in the girls’ dressing room was dense, littered with sprays of tropical fragrance clouds floating from nondescript locations. the mood was not too serious yet, as priya and hope were still nowhere to be found, probably in the bathroom and fighting with noah respectively.

you sighed at your vanity, having finished your makeup first again. marisol’s vanity was across from yours, and the only details you could make out were the collection of empty coffee mugs poking out from behind her mirror. lottie and hannah were stood in front of the full length mirrors, intensely focused on curling their hair.

marisol: i can’t believe they’re letting us postpone the elimination.

her hands outstretched and tousled her hair. she seemed particularly unbothered by the circumstances.

lottie: oh please, babe, don’t act like this is good news. it’s just delaying the inevitable, and we can’t keep it up forever. if we do, this rancid fruit perfume is gonna end up taking us all out.

hope bustled through the open door, while not a very dramatic entrance, her presence shifted the atmosphere and added a palpable layer of tension to the room. her night outfit was on, though her hair and makeup were still yet to be done. hurrying around the room and grabbing her tools, she was so out of breath when she started to speak, you almost felt disoriented as you remained sitting idly.

hope: girls, this recoupling is officially stressing me out.

marisol: what’s wrong, have you finished speaking with noah?

hope: i wouldn’t say “finished”. and i’ve got to get ready quickly if there’s any hope of talking to him before priya chooses.

lottie: she shouldn’t get to choose, if you ask me.

hope: babes, we all know it doesn’t work like that. she didn’t make the rules of the game. but if you ask me, (Y/N) is definitely the one making things harder than they need to be.

you: thanks.

you sat with your elbow on the table, your chin resting on a fist, mindlessly checking your phone for the time. you decided against humoring this drama, the accusations already sounding all too familiar.

hope: sorry babes, gotta be honest about how i’m feeling.

lottie: everyone’s a threat when noah’s involved, isn’t that right?

marisol: come on guys, if we wanna be a team, we can’t all turn on each other at the first sign of trouble. this is only a small taste of what’s to come, and everyone’s gonna have to steal someone else’s man at one point or another.

lottie: since when do you care about being a team? any girl who tries to be friendly with me and then turns around and takes what’s mine, is no team player. that’s breaking girl code.

you: that might be the case in the real world, but this is love island. you shouldn’t expect anything less.

hope: glad we can all be mature about it.

finally reaching your breaking point, you opted to get up and slink out of the room quietly, before you wound up rolling your eyes so hard that they fell out. tiptoeing down the stairs and out the back door, the evening air was so pleasant and the near silence so refreshing, you mentally noted that you wouldn’t mind having some alone time at night be a habit.

some of the boys were strewn about chatting in various places, but noah was standing in the kitchen, leaning on both arms over the counter. his head was down, though you could still hear him sigh.

you: hey. i feel like i don’t often find you alone.

your tone was intentionally soft, so as not to disturb him, but you were surprised to see that he didn’t even turn around upon hearing you.

noah: you wouldn’t say that if you knew me on the outside.

you: wanna talk?

noah: i’ve done so much talking today. and there’s plenty more where that came from.

noah straightened himself out, shifting quite calmly to leaning his back on the pantry door, his arms folding tightly.

you: so i’m guessing you know what priya said - about choosing the quiet, mysterious guy.

noah: i do now.

his eyebrows furrowed as he kicked one leg up and rested it on the wall behind him.

noah: though, i suppose if she does pick me, that’s a bed i’ve made for myself. gotta lay in it.

his glance shifted off of you and wandered off into the distance, the cogs in his brain clearly turning, although you couldn’t quite figure out if he was leading up to something.

noah: are you uncomfortable? with silence?

you: nah, it’s cool.

noah: good. sitting in silence with someone is an act of closeness. you should embrace it.

you did just that, allowing the cool mediterranean breeze wash over the both of you, as noah closed his eyes to enjoy it.

noah: i wish we had more time for silence in here. i might be closer with everyone.

you: sometimes people interpret closeness as knowing facts about each other.

a sideways grin appeared on noah’s face, if only for a split second.

noah: ok, how’s this for a fact: i run a reading program at my library every sunday. the kids pick a book, and i read it to them. i even act out the voices and everything.

an exhale of amusement left your nose, smiling in return.

you: are you disappointed that fact never came up? you seem pretty proud of yourself.

following noah’s advice, you let the silence brew for a moment.

you: good. you should be.

noah: judging by the shenanigans around here, you’ve been doing some charity work of your own.

you: you could call it that, but, i’m not sure who exactly it’s helping.

noah: but don’t you think that assuming the best about people, holding them to high standards of respect and kindness, is a good thing?

you: is this about “too much of a lady”, again?

noah: that’s all anyone’s been talking about today.

you: noah, i can promise you, no one cares about that argument as much as the two of you.

noah: yeah... the two of us...

you: well, who knows? priya might choose you, and then you’ll have something new to talk about.

noah: if that actually happens... i guess i’d owe it to her to give things a go. but, if i should have anything in this world, it should be hope.

you: hope for a different outcome? why not create the future you want?

noah: that’s what i’m trying to do, in my own way.

the wind suddenly picked up, blowing your hair off your back and causing goosebumps to flare up on your exposed arms.

noah: are you cold?

he beckoned you closer to him, his eyes almost being forced shut by the wind. as you bent your arms to attempt to fix your hair, noah’s hands found a place on your forearms, their warmth instantly soothing you - as they were so big - they almost covered the entire surface of your skin.

he looked up at you gingerly, his mouth opening as if to start apologizing, but you took the opportunity to speak instead.

you: listen, i think the only way to be happy is to write your own happy ending. but sometimes, people might interrupt your story, wanting you to be a character in their’s. what about what you want?

noah’s gaze darted all around your face, perhaps not wanting to look you in the eye, but focusing intently on your words.

noah: what about it?

the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat rang out from behind you.

hope: look what we have here; a snake in the grass.

you didn’t want to give hope the satisfaction of responding, staying almost perfectly still, though noah pulled his body back a significant amount.

hope: the recoupling’s about to start.

she kissed his cheek before pulling him away by the hand. all you could do was blink slowly, simmering quietly with fury.

as the sky slowly became darker, the firepit lit up automatically, dancing with bright orange as the boys lined up in front of it. the girls sat down on the bench, with only priya standing up. her phone made a sound that caused your heart to drop. and as she silently read the message, you knew she finally had to choose.

priya: i would like to couple up with this boy because he’s charming, he’s sweet, he’s honestly everything i would describe as boyfriend material. he’s got a great heart and an equally good sense of humor. he’s not too hard to look at either. and he, along with many other people here, have made my love island experience so lovely so far. it was really the worst feeling ever to have to make this decision.

your view of her face was blocked by marisol’s head, but you heard priya sniffle as she continued.

priya: but i have to go with my gut, because i came here for love after all. and i honestly do think my best chance of finding it is with this boy.

she used her ring finger to faintly tap away the tears that had fallen onto her cheeks.

priya: and so... the boy i’d like to couple up with... is... bobby.

you and marisol made it a point to applaud, having minimal success prompting the other girls to follow suit, though the boys were rowdily congratulating bobby with plenty of smacks to the shoulders. he allowed his head to fall, but immediately picked himself back up, not wanting to seem disappointed. though, once bobby’s eyes landed back on the girls, he couldn’t help but send you a disheartened look. he stretched his arms out, hugging priya as he joined her on the other side of the fire. the silence that followed was too much even for you to bear, until rocco’s phone went off.

rocco: I GOT A TEXT

islanders, take some time to get used to the new status quo. as, in 24 hours, there will be a boys’ choice recoupling. the girl left single will be dumped from the island immediately.

murmurs and whispers suddenly filled the atmosphere, as the group went their separate ways before the evening officially started.

bobby: (Y/N)!

bobby called out to you, breaking off from the group he and priya were in to return to the firepit. he sat down next to you, barely having time to find the edge of the seat.

bobby: (Y/N), i didn’t want priya to feel like i was unhappy just now, but you know how i felt about her picking me. i just wanted to let you know that we can figure this out, ok? i don’t have to share the bed with priya, i don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with...

you: bobby, calm down. i appreciate you saying all this, but, it’s like what we talked about earlier today. this experience is for you to find love at whatever the cost, and i don’t wanna stand in between you and priya. you don’t have to consider my feelings at all if you wanna get to know her, or anyone else for that matter. it’s the smart thing to do at this stage in the game.

bobby: you’re right, you’re right. that is what we agreed on, isn’t it?

you gave him a sympathetic smile, placing your hand lightly on his shoulder, now almost afraid of making too much contact with someone else’s man.

you: we can still keep checking in.

bobby: don’t worry, i will.

bobby turned around to see priya facing his direction, still far enough off in the distance that she wouldn’t have heard him, but he sent you a quick sheepish grin before jogging off to join her. you waved at her, at least trying to acknowledge the situation but not wanting to come off as hostile.

lottie: hey babes, you doing alright?

lottie and hannah approached, sitting moderately far from you on the bench, although lottie’s demeanor had become demonstrably more commiserating.

you: er, yeah, thanks for asking... frankly, erm, i didn’t think you’d care.

lottie: oh, come on, even if we haven’t been the best of friends lately, i wouldn’t want you to get your feelings hurt. i believe i stated verbatim this afternoon, that my mission was to protect whichever girl got screwed over at this recoupling.

you: right... that’s exactly what you said. well then, what’s your plan of action? how do you intend to protect me? that is, of course, assuming your love island strategy is to tap dance around every conflict, trying desperately not to step on anybody’s toes.

hannah: ugh, it’s always the toes with you lot. you sound like bobby.

lottie: listen babe, the only way to get what you want and maintain harmony is to go for a guy in a friendship couple. i say you’d best graft on ibrahim.

you: ibrahim’s said like two sentences to me this whole time. and marisol likes him, if he chose me, she’d be the one going home. how does that align with girl code?

hannah: i have to agree, the only thing that matters in this situation is how you feel, (Y/N). you’re like the underdog protagonist of this story!

lottie: fine! play it however you want, (Y/N). just remember that marisol’s the one always going on about how cutthroat this competition is, and how she has no problem with someone trying to take her man. you won the challenge and saved yourself, if rahim chose you over her at the elimination recoupling, she’d have no one to blame but herself for getting outsmarted. and then, on that plane ride home alone, she’d have a good think to herself about practicing what she preaches. meanwhile, the rest of us who’ve all been trying to get along, can go about our days in peace.

you let your mouth hang open slightly, using what felt like all of your brain power to try to interpret lottie’s recollection of events, though a voice in the background pulled you from your thoughts.

hope: everyone! we’re toasting in the kitchen!

lottie whipped around and sauntered off assuredly, leaving you and hannah behind in her dust. you almost made eye contact with hannah, interested to see what she could possibly say in defense of her friend, but she turned away. as she trailed off in the same direction, she ironically only allowed her eyes to look at her feet, her head hanging low.

you finally got up from your seat, your heels making a less impressive sound against the hollow wooden deck of the firepit area. everyone else seemed to be waiting, huddled around the kitchen island.

rocco: (Y/N), mon fleur, we’ve been sent a beautiful cabernet franc for tonight!

lottie: rocco, if you’re gonna flirt with every girl in here, you might as well do it in english. don’t think you can hide anything from me.

rocco: oh, i’m sorry, darling. i barely even notice myself doing it.

hope: listen up, guys. noah’s gonna say some words.

marisol leaned over and whispered in your ear.

marisol: enough to fit on one hand, maybe.

you held back a snicker, suddenly noticing that hope had thrown her arm across noah’s stomach. she looked up at him with a sickeningly sweet smile, perhaps denoting that the pair already made up, and leaving you to wonder if leading the toast had been part of noah’s punishment.

noah: ok so, no one said this thing would be easy. but, love’s the name of the game, and i already know i love you lot. so here’s to night two, let’s make it fun!

everyone raised their cups in unison. you took a curious sip of the wine, believing it to be bougier than anything you’d tried before, and couldn’t help but look at noah through the clear glass. he was quite articulate when he wanted to be.

gary: oi, single lady. got time for a chat?

in the middle of swallowing your wine, you simply pointed to yourself, your eyebrows raising in a quizzical expression.

gary: yes, you. let’s take a daybed, yeah?

you followed him to the daybed in question, soon realizing it was not too far away from the kitchen island, where a decent-sized group of people were still milling about. but when your eyes spotted priya and bobby, bantering back and forth without care, you mentally shrugged and decided to fully embrace your new single status.

you: can’t get enough of me today, can you?

gary: what can i say? the boys’ choice recoupling is coming up. i’m tired of letting the girls have all the fun.

you: so you take pleasure in watching me work for it?

gary: sounds a bit kinky when you put it like that, but, basically i just wanted to ask who you were gonna graft on.

you: don’t worry, you’re in there.

gary: get in.

gary silently fist-bumped the air.

gary: listen, i don’t wanna be too blunt, but i’d be well chuffed to end up with a fittie like you. it probably doesn’t sound like it, but you’re actually making me nervous. like the first time i drove a crane.

you: so the great gaz gets nervous too? interesting.

gary: not usually. but talking to you feels so easy, i don’t wanna end up saying the wrong thing.

you allowed a smile to grow across your face, leaving the apples of your cheeks rosy pink.

you: i know what we can talk about. since today was all about learning about each other, why don’t you tell me something i don’t know about you?

gary chuckled, his nose crinkling around his glasses.

gary: hate to state the obvious, but there’s loads you don’t know about me. why don’t we start with something simple? i’ve actually got a tattoo of my nan’s name.

you: really? your nan’s first name?

gary: yeah, it was one of the first tattoo ideas i could come up with. plus, the artist wrote it in hebrew so it looks well fancy.

you: actually... that is quite sweet.

gary: i might just have to show it to you some time.

gary winked, however unsubtly.

you: you’ve tattooed your nan’s name across your arse cheek?

gary: no, no! not there! but honestly, it’s not much better.

his gaze suddenly dropped, becoming uncharacteristically serious as he fidgeted with his fingers.

gary: actually, something you don’t know about me is... i used to be a bit of a demon.

you: how do you mean?

gary: i was... just... such a dork in school. i was always really skinny, i had to start working out six days a week to get the physique i’ve got now. i never had a girlfriend. but then, after a while, i started getting all the attention i’d always wanted. it would’ve been fun, but i didn’t know how to handle it. i got tattoos in weird places, i went out drinking every night, i became... sex crazy.

you: there’s no shame in admitting that.

gary: suppose not, but it was shameful how i was acting. i, er, once almost badgered a girl into sleeping with me... even though we didn’t have any condoms. she told me “no”, outright. and i realized what a wanker i’d been.

he looked so remorseful, you almost couldn’t stand it. crawling across the daybed with your shoes elevated slightly above the bedsheet, you scooted closer to gary, placing your nearest hand on his shoulder and squeezing the muscles soothingly.

you: it could’ve been a slippery slope, but you stopped yourself. that means you’re a good person, gaz.

gary: it was a long time ago, and there’s no use dwelling on what’s already happened. the only choices i should be worrying about are the ones right in front of me.

he turned his head, shocking you with the realization that your faces were closer together than you’d thought. gary’s icy blue eyes could always make you melt into a blushing mess.

hannah: i’m not interrupting anything, am i?

startled, you removed yourself from gary at the first sight of hannah, though he remained in place.

gary: (Y/N)’s single now, don’t be mad at her for grafting. it’s the rules of the game.

he got up and placed a hand at hannah’s waist, resting his arm on her back with perhaps too much comfort for their status as the unstable couple.

hannah: trust me, i’m not here to drag that up again. all of us girls have been talking in circles about it all day.

she leaned into him, allowing her hand to rest on his shoulder as one of her ankles daintily raised up, like a lovesick school girl in a cartoon.

hannah: it’s getting a bit chilly outside, though, so a few of us were gonna move the party inside. join me?

gary: suppose i’ll catch you later, (Y/N).

the pair skipped off into the villa, appearing joined at the hip. scoffing bewilderedly at the scene, you took the moment to yourself to lean back on the cushions of the daybed, finishing your wine as the others one-by-one packed it in for the night.

as you stood and straightened your outfit out, the metaphorical lightbulb in your head lit up. that night, you danced through your bedtime routine with the intention to sleep on the daybed outside, confident that at least one of the boys would sneak off to chat with you alone the next morning. a part of your subconscious might’ve also felt relieved that you wouldn’t be subjected to bobby and priya’s nighttime kisses or morning cuddles, though you told yourself it was only out of courtesy for their privacy.

lugging an extra pillow and blanket onto the back patio, you settled in while listening to the surprisingly comforting insect sounds.

marisol: you look a little lonely. mind if i join you tonight?

you: absolutely, babes, come on in!

you wasted no time lifting your blanket up, allowing marisol to wrap herself up, like you’d been.

marisol: i just thought... now that we’re on love island, all of us would probably go insane if, for even one night, we’re not forced to sleep next to a stranger.

you: stop it, you’re less of a stranger than any of the boys, if you wanna get technical.

marisol: true, but i also figured it might be reassuring to know you won’t be the only girl covered in mosquito bites tomorrow morning.

you: what about your bed? won’t ibrahim notice you’re gone?

marisol: please, i told him he’d have to survive without me for tonight. i’m sure he’s crying about it as we speak.

you: speaking of rahim, have you gotten a cheeky bedtime kiss from him?

marisol: we actually haven’t kissed yet. but, honestly, i was kinda hoping that’d change soon.

you: so you’re glad priya didn’t pick him?

marisol: well, i’m glad for me, not for you. but, it didn’t feel great to know he was flirting with her earlier.

you: honestly, marisol, i think lottie just said that to wind you up. that’s not what i’d call that interaction at all.

marisol: really? then what did it look like to you?

you: obviously, i can’t say if they’ve spoken since, but it felt like she was just trying to get him out of his shell. and it worked, so he was a little more goofy and playful for the rest of the day.

marisol: hmm...

you: it’s like... remember what you said to me last night? that rahim had to decide, on his own terms, when to open up to you? well, in my opinion, the opposite may be true.

marisol: you think he’s more of a push than a pull?

you: exactly. and i think noah’s more of a pull.

marisol: have you talked to him alone? that spat with hope earlier seemed pretty serious.

you: yeah, i did. he actually had a lot to say, but then as soon as hope saw us, she decided she wasn’t mad at him anymore and everything went back to normal.

marisol: hope’s an interesting one. i expected her and lottie to gang up on me, but it seems that the girl train is fully off the rails.

you: lottie had a lot to say about you, alright. after the recoupling, she came up to me and basically recited a manifesto about how much you deserve to get dumped. she essentially said, that because you’re the only one with any respect for the competition, i should steal rahim from you for the sake of “the game”.

marisol: how am i not surprised?

you: she called you and him a “friendship couple”.

marisol pursed her lips together, her jaw becoming tense as she seemed noticeably irate for the first time that you’d seen.

marisol: how can she possibly think she’s helping anyone by going around and spreading lies about people!?

you: well hey, don’t let that stop you from grafting on rahim. he said he thought romance should be easy, and he clearly likes when girls try to make him feel comfortable.

marisol: sage advice, babe. but i’m not putting all my eggs in his basket just yet. lottie may want me gone, but she’s gonna have to deal with me for as far into the future as a crystal ball can see.

you: that’s the spirit, hun.

you poked your hands out into the cold air to high five her, which quickly turned into a cuddle as she hugged you from under the duvet.

marisol: can i tell you something? i’m not really sure if it’s my place to say, but, you’re the only one i trust in here and i want you to trust me too.

you: aw, babes. you don’t have to say anything you don’t feel comfortable saying.

marisol: i suppose it’s not that bad, and if i were you, i’d wanna know. basically, when i was in the bedroom, i caught a glimpse of priya and bobby. she looks great, smells great, even her pyjamas are high fashion.

you: she’s in there wearing sexy lingerie?

marisol: apparently, she does every night. but that’s not the half of it. she and bobby were joking all night long, the chat was flowing, i would’ve expected him to be all over her.

you: wow, that’s great to hear.

marisol: don’t kid yourself, babes. love you to death, but priya’s a bombshell and a half. i’d be all over her.

you: but you’re saying bobby wasn’t?

marisol: no, not at all. it was totally pg, last i saw. i even overheard her telling noah how fit she thinks bobby is, and she said it like a hundred times, but then she said that she feels too bad to try anything on him because of how much your friendship means to her.

your brows furrowed, forming what must’ve been an apparent look of contemplation.

marisol: you saved yourself twice, (Y/N). once in the challenge, and now you’ve saved yourself from having to watch your man drool over another woman.

you: well, if nothing else, it’s nice to know priya’s a true friend. i honestly feel bad she isn’t out here with us, but i wanted her to get as much of a chance with bobby as i got.

marisol: and now you’re free to examine other boys’ baskets as well - maybe drop an egg in one, two eggs in another. guilt-free. well, at least bobby won’t make you feel guilty. can’t say the same about lottie, but, don’t let her get to you.

you: sage advice.

you twiddled your thumbs, trying to conjure the least nosy way to pose your next question.

you: so... you saw priya talking to noah?

marisol: mhmm, yeah, i thought it was strange too. but, noah is the oldest boy. they probably have a lot more in common than you’d think.

you: he knows she fancies him.

marisol tilted her head to face you.

marisol: he does?

you: yup, and i would know, i pretty much told him earlier.

marisol: wow, i suppose that changes the dynamic then.

you: first, me. now, her. do you think noah could be gearing up to switch partners at the recoupling?

marisol: you’re saying you fancy him?

you exhaled deeply.

you: i’m not saying i don’t. i mean, he was the only boy i got to choose. he knows that.

you turned so that your face became engulfed by the pillow, sighing even deeper with audible groans of frustration mixed in.

you: this whole competition thing is so petty. i guess, even though i knew what i was signing up for, somehow i didn’t think it’d make me sink this low.

marisol: come on, babes, you’re not doing anything wrong.

you: it feels wrong. it feels like i’m a stupid little high school girl, giggling and chatting shit about everyone else. and i just want that one boy to like me back, but what if he doesn’t? all the other stupid little girls are gonna laugh at me in mess hall.

marisol placed her hand gently on your back, rubbing faint circles.

you: i guess i just thought i’d come here, and get to laugh at everyone else fighting amongst themselves, like string puppets on one of them little stages. but i suppose puppets can be quite scary, when you’re reduced down to their size. and lottie and hope are just bashing my head in.

marisol: i get that feeling. even i can tell, it seems like you’ve been forced to be the center of attention.

you: for literally the first time in my life. bobby said i’m a natural leader, hannah said i’m the protagonist. but if i were either of those, shouldn’t that mean things would go right for me?

marisol: listen, babes, it’s only the second day. tomorrow, you could wake up and change history forever, depending on what you do. so just be cool, be yourself, so that no matter what happens, you can look back on this experience and be proud of what you’ve done. and if things don’t go your way, it’s not the end of the world, it’s only love island. the things that happen here, don’t happen in the real world. ok?

you nodded drearily, as much as your muscles would allow you to, before the soothing sensation of marisol massaging your back sent you dozing off.

[mxmagestyk]

My toh headcanons for fun:

Luz has curly hair which she straightens. When her hair is wet, it gets curly again. Literally just a curly mop. She straightens it because it’s easier for her to manage, and because she doesn’t know how to properly take care of her curly hair.

Hunter is aspec and on the autistic spectrum

Gus is also on the autistic spectrum (although, I’m not really sure that’s a thing that can/would be diagnosed on the boiling isles?)

Amity wanted a younger sibling when she was younger, but is also glad she doesn’t have one because Odalia is an awful parent and wouldn’t wish Odalia as a parent upon anyone

Willow is aroace(spec)

Willow names her plants and makes her friends come to the funeral when a plant dies

Luz prefers to use the bubblegum flavored toothpaste rather than mint, if she even remembers to brush her teeth at all

Amity does the opposite and was appalled when she found out Luz forgets to brush her teeth a lot

Luz is getting better at remembering to brush her teeth regularly since dating Amity though, both because Amity reminds her and because she wants to have nice breath in case Amity kisses her or she kisses Amity

Luz also definitely has adhd, I don’t think that’s even questioned at this point

Either that or she’s just neurodivergent in some way

Hunter unironically likes country music

Luz makes fun of him for that, but has been caught on several occasions listening to country music herself

Hunter makes Gus listen to his 100 bird facts™️ because he knows Gus likes the human realm and figures he would enjoy listening

Gus does enjoy listening, even if he doesn’t like birds all that much

Gus is afraid of birds, apparently, especially chickens and seagulls

I say apparently because he didn’t know he was afraid until he ran into some on a couple different occasions when in the human realm

The birds chased him around like the bastards they are while Gus screamed bloody murder

So, yk, that was only slightly a traumatic experience for poor Gus

Vee is girlflux, questioning her sexuality, and uses she/ze pronouns

Whereas Luz is genderqueer and uses any pronouns with no preference

And Amity is transfeminine and uses only she/her

The rest of the gang hasn’t thought about it much, they just identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. Mostly, anyway. If they ever questioned it then maybe that would change.

Willow figured out she was aroace(spec) when Luz began explaining what it meant to be aroace while explaining different LGBTQ+ labels to the gang

Essentially it went “wait isn’t everyone like that?” “No, Willow, not everyone is like that.” “Oh.”

(I am aware that both Hunter and Willow now have confirmed sexualities, and I am not discrediting those in headcanoning these characters. If you believe that I am doing so, please keep your thoughts to yourself and leave my page. Headcanoning characters as a sexuality differing from their canon one, as long as it does not erase their canon queer identity, is encouraged on my page. Examples I will not condone are headcanons such as a lesbian character as anything other than lesbian <excluding asexuality/aromanticism> and an aroace character as anything other than aroace.)

Alador Blight is bisexual. In his words, “I just like who I like. It doesn’t really matter to me.” He is also on the aromantic spectrum, but he doesn’t know it and chooses not to use that label.

Speaking of Alador, as much as people think he doesn’t know when people like him romantically, he does. He pretends that he doesn’t because, most often, he does not feel the same, and is unsure how to go about letting them down without hurting their feelings. He’s just a nice guy overall and doesn’t want to purposely hurt you, unless you majorly deserve it.

The marriage between Alador and Odalia was an arranged one, by Alador’s parents.

Alador is a Blight by birth, while Odalia received the surname upon their marriage.

Darius had a slight crush on Alador when they went to hexside, and he had planned on confessing this to him, until Alador admitted that his parents wanted he and Odalia to get together.

Odalia and Alador began presenting as an official couple at school shortly after that, and Darius never told Alador about his crush, feeling like he had lost his chance.

Darius assumed that he was completely past his feelings for Alador for years after that, but, when he starts talking to Alador more while the pair are working together to find a way to remove coven marks, the feelings resurface.

(Adding more as I think of them)

[kats-chaotic-wonderland]

Clone Adoption Agency (Chapter 6)

This one took a while to get to but hey here we are! Enjoy!

Kaviir woke up early to find her mother poking her, “Wake up, hun. If you want to go train with Skirata? You need to be up now.”

With a stretch she hopped out of bed. Moving as quickly as a sleepy kid could she dressed, freshened up, and headed out to the kitchen.

Vette had packed her a cold lunch and smiled, “Alright, have fun, and behave, okay?”

"Yes ma'am!" Kaviir waved as she headed out. She found Skirata standing in the training area with another clone cadet who could assume was Darman. She was practically bouncing as she made her way over to them.

Skirata looked at her and chuckled, “Well well, you actually showed up.”

"Of course I did." She grinned wide and excited.

“Well I’m glad you did.” He motioned her over to them, “Kaviir, meet Darman; Darman, Kaviir.”

“Hi!” The boy waved to her, “I heard I was going to be getting a new partner for my training, but I didn’t expect a different clone like you! Who are you modeled after?”

She giggled and shook her head,"I'm actually not a clone. I'm Commander Ruusan's daughter."

“Who?” He tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know that I’ve met that commander yet.”

"She's really nice." She giggled,"She looks like me but bigger."

“Ah.” Darman nodded, still looking a little confused.

Skirata stepped over and ruffled his hair, “Alright you two, enough chit chat, let’s get to work.”

"Yes sir!" They said in sync as they straightened to attention.

Skirata spent the next several hours teaching them about the art of explosives. They had dummy modules they could build and run, and Darman would often lean over and point out some tips to Kaviir, who found that he was rather kind, and she much enjoyed his company. Kaviir was listening intently and took in as much information as possible. She was surprisingly good at retaining the information and putting it into practice, and Darman found that he quite enjoyed her company as well. The two of them got on cheerfully as they worked on the practice dets that Kal had given them.

After a few hours and several successful exercises, Skirata smiled and set down another piece of hardware in front of them, “Alright, exam time.” He chuckled, “Use the information you learned during todays course to construct this device, when you’re finished, test it on the target.” He motioned to a droid squad that was standing still and looking around the room.

"Yes sir." Kaviir and Darman nodded as they looked the devices over. Skirata left them alone for the next half hour. Darman eventually looked over to her and cleared his throat, “So… what all do you do for fun?”

"Usually train with the boys, or mess with Vau. But I've been told to leave him alone for a while." She shrugged and smiled at him,"what about you?"

“Pretty much the same thing, except for the part with Commander Vau, we’re not brave enough to mess with him.” He shook his head, “I like to learn more about engineering things like this in my down time though, it’s a lot of fun for me.”

"Tell me about it?" She smiled

Darman spent the next several minutes explaining the ins and outs of bomb making. As he talked Kaviir listened and gave him her full attention as they worked. Once he had finished his device, he looked over to Kaviir and peaked into her own capsule, “How’s yours going?”

She had hers mostly finished,"Almost done. I think yours is better."

“Maybe?” He shrugged, “Depends on what they do.”

"How so?" She asked, looking at the device curiously. It didn't have explosives like the others they had been training with. Instead it looked like it had a dye pack. That had thrown her off a little with the wiring.

“I don’t know, that’s just it. I’ve never constructed one of these before. Totally new model.” He shrugged and looked to their respective targets, “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

She nodded and finished hers. Then she grinned,"Wanna do it together or take turns?"

“Hmmm… on one hand, taking turns would probably provide better evidence as to what we’re doing.” Darman paused and gave her a smirk, “On the other hand, we follow rule number eleven.”

"Rule eleven?" She asked

“P for plenty.” Darman gave her a playful wink, “If you’re not sure that one is enough, use more. Better safe than sorry.”

"Ah, together then?" She grinned

“Together.” He nodded.

They both tossed their small devices at the same time. They impacted and detonated in a cloud of bright red dust. The cloud seemed to settle quickly, and the droids were now covered in the substance.

As they watched the dust settle, Kal clapped and walked up behind them, “Good work, you two. Now, watch this.” He pulled out a small ion pistol and shot it at a single droid. As the bolt made contact, it seemed to shatter across the first droid and spread out across the others, igniting the blots of red dust. With a single blaster shot, the droid squad had been completely wiped out.

Darman was smiling widely and jumping up and down, “Kal’buir! That was amazing!”

"It explodes!?" Kaviir grinned excitedly joining Darman as she quickly fumbled to her feet.

“What part of bomb making did you miss?” Kal chuckled and ruffled Kaviir’s hair, “Yes, when I heard of your little stunt in Vau’s quarters, I knew I had the perfect way to help take your mind off of things. This powder, when mixed into those devices, becomes electromagnetically charged, clinging to any metallic surface it touches and becoming static-locked. Having enough powder on surface also keeps it charged for a few seconds, allowing a well placed ion shot to disrupt any electronics that the metallic surface contains.”

"I love you." She said dramatically and hugged him,"That is the coolest thing I've ever seen."

“I love you too, kiddo.” He smiled.

Darman was staring at Kaviir wide eyed for several moments.

She grinned and pulled away then she turned to see Darman staring,"You okay?"

“What did you do to Vau?!?!” He cried out, more impressed than anything else.

Skirata laughed and set Kaviir down next to the boy, “Here we go…”

"Oh, well..." She gave him the full story of the dye pack and nearly falling into the ocean, then shrugged as she finished like she hadn't just confessed to what was probably some kind of domestic terrorism,"He totally deserved it."

“Fier’fek…” Darman’s mind was racing with one thousand different thoughts. “That’s something else.” He smiled and grabbed Kaviir, wrapping her into a hug, “Definitely glad you decided to come along.”

She giggled and hugged him,"Me too. This is fun."

“Alright, you two.” Kal chuckled and picked both of them up in his arms, “Let’s go. Kaviir, are you ready to head back to your moms?”

"Awe.... I'm having fun." She pouted

“I know, but it’s starting to get late, and the lessons over.” Kal grinned, “Come on, I’ll walk with you, Darman, good job today, son. Get back to your brothers.”

“Yes sir.” He saluted before looking to Kaviir and giving her one final wave and a smile, “Bye!”

"Bye!" She waved and sighed as Kal set him down and he left. Once he was gone she turned back to Kal,"I'm worried about Mom."

“Why’s that, little one?” Kal frowned and shifted her in his arms, “Something she said or did?”

"She's been stressed a lot." She frowned,"And...I think I made it worse."

“How so?” Kal tilted his head and began to instinctively bounce her.

"Because I keep causing problems, and I volunteered to be a soldier without even thinking about how mom would feel." She shook her head,"I feel bad."

“Well, you’re sort of right.” Kal sighed, “Kaviir, parents are always going to worry about their kids, part of the job.”

"Yeah, I know." She nodded feeling the uncomfortable grip of guilt start worming around her stomach.

“The hardest part of being a parent is realizing that we won’t always be able to keep you kids safe. It’s especially hard for adopted kids, because we want to see you all succeed so much, that we actively choose to bring you into our lives. Vette has always been… attached.” He ran a hand through his hair, “As for the boys… she’s going to have to…part… with a lot of them, and she’s trying so hard to keep it all together. She’s not mad at you, sweetheart, she loves you with all she is, but… she’s tired, I think we all are.”

"Yeah." Kaviir nodded, her smile had dropped and she looked tired herself,"I know we're going to lose so many of them....I just want to be helpful when they have to fight. And I want to help mom. I know I'm not going to fix it, but I want to do something."

“That’s all you can do, little one.” Kal nodded, “Just be there for them, all of them, and remember, you’re one of the boys, but you’re still her little girl too. Don’t let her feel like you’re not.”

"Yeah." She nodded,"What can I do to give her a break?"

“I’m not sure.” Kal shook his head, “Try just spending some time with her.”

"Yeah....I try not to get in her way with training so I guess I've been a little distant." She frowned,"I'll take some more time with her."

“That’s all any parent wants.” Kal smiled and poked her nose. “She loves you, ad’ika.”

"I love her too." She smiled

Kal went to say something, but his attention was caught by a group of Kaminoans. There were a group of children surrounding two others. Kal set Kaviir down and told her, “Stay here, don’t move.”

She nodded, but watched curiously.

Kal walked over and paused for a moment before screaming at the rest of them to get away. Kaviir couldn’t see much detail, but it looked like a mother was holding her child in her arms on the floor, she was beaten badly.

She stepped a little closer looking concerned.

Kal looked back and saw Kaviir. He pointed his finger back, “No.” he said sternly.

She stopped and stepped back a step.

Kal cleared out the rest of them, some tried to protest, but Kal ejected a three sided knife from his gauntlet and held it against the throat of the leader of the Kaminoan group. Kaviir was never sure if these thing could feel fear, but now she definitely had her answer. After everything had cleared up, Kal looked over to Kaviir, “Go home, ad’ika. And don’t turn back, for anything.”

She frowned,"Kal, what is happening?'

“Nothing that you need to worry about right now. Go home, Kaviir, that’s an order.”

She sighed,"Yes sir." And went to leave.

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

Kaviir made her way through the halls of kamino alone. The sound of Skirata and the others fading as she headed back to their room. The silence slowly crept in making her feel more uneasy with every quick little step. She really hated being alone in this place.

The childlike fears of those monsters taking her away crept into her mind. The thought driving her to move ever faster.

As she passed a vent, she stopped.

There was a shuffle coming from inside the vent.

Slowly, she turned. Her eyes, wide and terrified, meeting with eyes like hers. Wide and terrified.

Something was starring at her.

Hesitation gripped her, but she knelt down and spoke softly,"....h-hello..."

The eyes blinked, something about the shape was familiar, it bothered her. She couldn't make out what they were part of though.

She tried again,"Are....are you stuck? Do you need help?"

She could see it shake it's head. The green catching the glint of the lights.

"Are....are you friendly?" She asked hopefully

It tilted it head, looking confused. She reached out towards the vent, but the sound of kaminoans approaching spooked it. It's eyes grew fearful as it shuffled away.

Frowning Kaviir stood up and watched as they passed. Once they were gone she took off running for her mother.

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

She made her way home without any issue. Going inside she looked for her mom and found her sitting in one of the chairs reviewing a datapad. Kaviir went over to her and gently took the data pad. Then after setting it aside she turned and hugged her mom tightly.

“Hey.” Vette sounded a little surprised, “What’s wrong?” She wrapped her daughter into a hug and held her close.

"I just don't spend enough time with you." She shrugged,"We should do more together."

“Oh, sweetheart… it’s okay.” Vette smiled and picked her up and walked her around, “We’ve both been busy lately.”

"Yeah, but I don't want you to feel like you're going through this alone."

“Baby girl. I’ve never felt alone with you around. But, I know what you mean.” She kissed Kaviir on the cheek, “I love you so much, Kav’ika.”

"I love you too momma." She smiled and kissed her cheek

“Okay.” Vette pulled her back and saw the look in Kaviir’s eyes, “What’s wrong? Something else is bothering you, did something happen at training today?”

"Well..." She filled her in on the events of the day, including the moment with Kal, however she found herself leaving out the thing in the vents.

Vette sighed and sat Kaviir down. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

"Okay?" She nodded confused

Vette walked off and left her alone. Once she left, Kaviir decided to get herself a snack and do something to occupy herself. After a few minutes she found herself on the living room floor, sat at the coffee table with some of her art supplies. The next few minutes were filled with her doodling while she ate, and tried to settle the unease in her stomach.

After a while though, she felt eyes on her.

Once she realized what she was feeling, she slowly looked around the room. Doors, kitchen, freshers, all empty. She thought she might be imagining things until something shuffled in the vent behind her. Slowly, she turned. Her eyes meeting green eyes again.

"oh...hi again..." She said surprised

A voice spoke back in a scared, childlike whisper,"....hello...."

Kaviir paused, looked at him surprised, then shifted a little closer,"You talk?"

He nodded.

"Are you nice?"

He nodded again.

She looked around and picked up a multi tool her mother had for working on their gear,"If I let you out are you going to hurt me?"

He let out a small whine,"No...no hurt."

She nodded,"Okay. I'm trusting you." Then she went to work opening the vent. It took some trying, but soon she had it open and the Kaminoan was able to slip out.

Dropping the grate back in place she found herself sitting beside a young boy. She looked at him surprised, "Woah... Why were you in the vent?"

He looked a little saddened,"Scared."

"Why?" She frowned, but the look he gave her made her heart hurt,"Oh..." She figured it out quickly enough, it had something to do with why Kal was angry. She didn't think about it, she just pulled him into a hug,"I'm sorry."

He was surprised, not returning the affection, not really even sure what to do in this moment. He stared in confused surprise as she held him close. Slowly she pulled away to look him in the eyes,"What's your name?"

He thought for a moment, as though weighing the potential issues of telling her. But just as she thought maybe he wouldn't say anything, he spoke softly. "Leruc Sul."

She smiled softly,"Hi, I'm Kaviir Ruusan." Kaviir held his hands,"Leruc, are you in danger here?"

He nodded, looking down shamefully.

"Okay, I'll find a way to get you to safety." She nodded determined,"You can stay here with me, no one will look for you here."

He looked at her a little surprised,"Helping....why?"

"you're a kid, kids deserve to feel safe." She smiled,"I'll ask mo-" she stopped herself, thinking about everything her mom already had to deal with. She shook her head instead,"I'll ask Jango. He can pretty much do what he wants."

He looked nervous at the suggestion.

"I promise it'll be okay." She gave him another hug,"We'll keep you out of sight while I talk to him."

He nodded and looked at her still a little confused by the gesture.

They took a while to find him some hiding places, and for Kaviir to get him something to eat.

Vette was gone for nearly an hour. When she returned, she seemed visibly angry. Kaviir had just finished helping Leruc hide in her closet, barely getting sat on the couch, and was a little confused as her mother came in grumbling.

Kaviir hopped up from her seat and looked at her concerned,"Mom? You okay?"

“No.” She shook her head, “These damn Kaminoans… just because the kid had green eyes.”

"What?" She asked confused, but she already had a good idea of what happened.

“That mom and her kid from the hallway. They were killed.” Vette felt tears streaming down her cheeks, “Just because the kid had green eyes.”

Kaviir didn't know what to say, she just stood there. She couldn't say anything to her mom, she was already so stressed. Vette looked over to Kaviir and wiped herself clean. She gave an obviously fake smile to hide her pain, “Green eyes… so pretty.” She wrapped her up into a hug and sighed.

"Mom," Kaviir said softly holding Vette tight, "You don't have to be the tough one all the time."

“Hey.” She gave a soft laugh while poking Kaviir on the nose, “Moms are tough.”

"Yeah, but so are kids." She smiled hugging her tightly.

“Well, what do you say we take some time for just us away from all of these assholes.”

"Yes please." She grinned, nodding quickly.

“Well, you’ve always wanted to ride an aiwha.”

Her face lit up,"Please tell me we're finding an aiwha!"

“Indeed we are my little Nexu.” Vette ruffled her hair, “Get ready, we’re going to be deep sea diving.”

"Yes!" She bounced and went to get ready

Vette smiled and shook her head, “Well, she did say she wanted us to do something together.” She grabbed her own helmet and readied her gear.

Kaviir padded into her room, shutting the door and quickly peeking in to check on Leruc,"Leruc?" She whispered softly.

He looked up at her from where he was all cuddled in some of her blankets.

"We're going out for a little bit, please stay in the apartment, you can get snacks in the kitchen if you need them. Just be careful if you hear someone coming okay?"

He nodded and looked a little worried.

"it'll be okay," she smiled,"I'll come check on you as soon as I'm back. I promise."

Another nod. Kaviir smiled tucked him in and gave him some quiet toys and games to keep him entertained. Then she closed the closet and headed out.

Vette nodded as she came back into the living room, “Come on, let’s go.” She walked them both to the platform that her ship was on. “Well, before we do this, I suppose I should teach you how to fly, shouldn’t I?”

"Fly?" Kaviir blinked looking confused.

“The ship.” Vette smiled, “Figure I could show you a thing or two.”

"Yes please!" She grinned bouncing excitedly.

Vette nodded and led her up to the cockpit, “Okay, take the controls.” She sat in the seat next to Kaviir.

She nodded and did so, looking a little nervous. She'd never been allowed to touch the ship controls by herself before. Their ship lifted to the air and hovered over the platform.

“Good. Now… slowly pull out over the water.” Vette set her hand on Kaviir’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, if you get scared, I can take over.”

She shook her head,"I can do it.'

“Okay.” Vette let her take control, “Now, hit the thrusters and move us in this direction.”

She nodded and did so, trying to keep everything steady. They traveled for several more minute before Vette smiled, “You’re a natural, hun.”

"Thanks." She grinned, but the knots in her stomach said that flying was never going to be her favorite thing.

“Are you having fun?” Vette asked.

"Yes." She giggled, somewhat lying.

“Good.” Vette looked down to a spot in the waters, “Okay, bring us to a standstill.”

"Yes ma'am."

Once they were still, Vette picked Kaviir up and smiled, “Right, you ready for this?”

"Absolutely!" She grinned

Vette nodded as they waited overhead. Soon a massive aiwha emerged from the water and circled around them.

Kaviir ginned watching it

“Wanna give it a go?” Vette smiled.

"Give what?"

“Riding it?” Vette motioned to the aiwha down below.

"Really!" She looked excited, trying really hard not to bounce and rock the hovering ship they were standing on.

“Yeah, come on, we’ll give it a shot.” Vette smiled and poked her daughters stomach. “Hang on to me, okay?”

"Yes ma'am!" She grinned grabbing her mother tightly.

Vette grabbed Kaviir and held her close as she ignited her jet pack and landed on the beast. It let out a small yelp, but quickly settled with the two of them on top of it. It took off towards the horizon with the two of them on its back. Giggling kaviir kept a tight hold on her mom. But she reached a hand down and pet the creatures back. It seemed to look back and stare at her. It made an echoing sound as it flapped its wings to gain a bit of height. She giggled and waved to it.

Vette leaned in and chuckled, “I think she likes you.”

"I definitely like her." She grinned, she seemed to be having the time of her life.

Vette smiled and looked around the waters, “Good. Now stay here.” She let herself fall off the beast and dive head first into the black waters below.

Kaviir looked panicked for a moment but stayed put. Watching the water for where her mother might be.

After a few more minutes had passed, something large shot out of the water with Vette on its back. It was a male aiwha, and it was MASSIVE.

Kaviir went wide eyed as she watched

Vette flew alongside next to Kaviir and nodded, “Your mom still had some moves, doesn’t she?” She called out to her.

"Hell yeah!" She said excitedly as she threw her hands up excitedly.

Vette stared at her silently for a moment, “So… you WERE the one who taught the boys how to swear.” She laughed, “You’re definitely a sister.”

"I already admitted to that!" She pouted

“I meant recenlty.” She smiled beneath her helmet, “They’re getting good at it.”

"Blame Jango. He taught me!"

“I don’t believe that for an instant.” Vette shook her head, “Come on, let’s get back to the ship.”

"Awe, already?"

“Do you want to fly around for a bit longer?” Vette smiled.

"Yes!"

Vette relented and nodded her head, “Okay. A good half hour, deal?” She smiled.

"Woo!" She grinned and basically flopped into the Aiwha. The creature let out a playful squeak as it dipped down towards the water. Vette followed behind Kaviir. Kaviir was giggling as she clung to its back. It swooped back up and was gliding over the waves. It seemed very relaxed around her. Smiling, she gave it a gentle scritch on its head. It seemed to be enjoying her company. After a little while, Vette laughed and called out, “Alright, little Nexu, let’s get back to the ship!”

"Fiiine." She groaned and hugged the Aiwha again.

Once they had arrived, Vette smiled and helped her back on the ship, “Okay, take the ship back, I’ll be there soon enough.”

"Wait.... you're not coming?" She frowned

“I’m going to take care of these guys, shouldn’t take me too long.” Vette looked back, “I’ll message Jango and let him know to keep an eye out for you if you need help, okay? We still have to help the boys in training today, remember?”

"Osik!" She smacked her forehead,"Sorry, got caught up in bonding and riding giant flap flaps."

“First of all, seriously… language, at least wait til you’re sixteen before you go overboard.” She shook her head, “Well, you can play with the ‘flap flaps’ whenever you finish training. For now, get back to the platform and go find Jango.”

"Yes ma'am!" She nodded

Once she was confident she was off, Vette looked down to the male aiwha and sighed, “Sorry, friend. You’re not going to like what comes next… but I’ll need your help in dealing with this Kaminoan elitism, at the very least in making sure it’s safe for my little girl.”

Chapter 5

Chapter 7

Star Wars Master Post

Clone Adoption Agency Navigation

(Vette belongs to @the-churroguy )

[deathsmallcaps]

Check out Vixen’s new Webtoon!

If you like the Batman one, but wish it had more plot, this is a good comic for you!

EDIT: apparently vixen is a banned tag so I retagged this as vixen dc and dc vixen.

[thebluewritingbench]

if you’re still taking prompts, can you do happiness #1?

Before we launch into 6b next week, here's a small fantasy of a scene that I wish the cw would give us. Happiness #1 from this prompt list again.

“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“Alex calls it The Honesty Policy.”

Lena takes the mug of hot chocolate Kara offers, cradling it between her hands. “The Honesty Policy?” she asks, as Kara sits down on the couch beside her.

“I imagine Kelly probably fed it to her,” Kara says. “But she was helping me try to figure out how we could get ourselves… well, back to normal, after everything, and she was really insistent that this one was worth a try.”

“What is it?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. No more secrets,” Kara says, tapping her own collarbone, then fixing her gaze pointedly on Lena. “No more lying. We tell each other things. We’re honest. We trust each other with our secrets.”

Lena nods, looking down into her mug of hot chocolate. The dim lights of Kara’s loft glow orange across her cheekbones, and in the silence, the sounds of late-night passing cars rumble up from the street below. It’s the first time they’ve really spent time truly alone together since… well everything.

There’s still a lot of awkwardness between them; turns out secrets and betrayal and double-crossing—and the fact that forgiveness was barely hatching between them when Kara was banished to the phantom zone—will do that to a friendship. There was the initial hug, of course, after Kara was rescued, when Lena wrapped her arms around Kara and buried her face in Kara’s neck and held her so tightly that Kara was certain she’d never let go, her breath coming in ragged gasps and her whole body quivering. It was somewhat surreal, the warm shock of having Lena in her arms after so many months, her hair against Kara’s cheek, the muted scent of her shampoo. They’d sank to the floor, still holding each as the ship creaked around them, and stayed there for god knows how long in each other arms.

But since then, since that initial wordless embrace that felt as much like coming home as anything, they haven’t known what to say to each other. They work together easily enough, the animosity between Supergirl and Lena finally gone, but it’s more difficult when they’re just Kara and Lena. They’ve forgiven each other, Kara thinks. Or at least agreed to forgive each other, even if there’s still work to be done. But it’s weird. It’s not like they can snap straight back into how things were before.

Hence The Honesty Policy.

“Okay,” Lena says finally. “Yes. No more secrets. A clean start.”

A clean start. It’s what they need, after an entire friendship where one or the other of them has been hiding things. For the first time, everything between them will be out in the open. Nothing left to hide.

It’s oddly freeing.

Kara takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “So, where do we start?”

“Start?”

“I think we should have just an honest conversation. I don’t want this to be awkward anymore, I want to be able to talk to you like we used to. So, in the interest of honesty, tell me something you’ve never told me before. It doesn’t have to be big—” she adds hurriedly, when Lena’s eyes widen in alarm. “Something small. Something tiny you’ve never had reason to tell me.”

Lena nods slowly, thinking. “In the interest of honesty…” she starts. “In the interest of honesty, I… I really think that those bangs were a mistake.”

Kara makes a noise of offended disbelief in the back of her throat. “I—Rude!”

“You said to be honest!” Lena says, biting her lip like she’s holding back a laugh. “They’re growing out now, anyways. It looks much better.”

Kara gives her bangs a self-conscious pat. They’re still at a slightly awkward length, but they’re long enough to blend in semi-decently with the rest of her hair now. “If we’re being honest, then,” she says. “I think that blouse is really ugly.”

Lena looks down at herself. She sounds slightly hurt when she says, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything! It’s—the pattern! The sleeves! The collar! It looks like it’s made of cheap polyester.”

“It’s designer!” Lena pouts.

“Who designed it?”

“Well, I thought that blazer you wore last week was kind of hideous. I didn’t say anything at the time, but in the interest of honesty…”

Kara laughs, and Lena’s irritated expression melts away at her laughter, something in her eyes softening. It’s an expression Kara’s been seeing on her more often, in moments she catches Lena watching her when she thinks Kara isn’t paying attention.

She’s always paying attention to Lena.

“Maybe we should just agree to say that we both have questionable fashion taste sometimes and call it a day,” she says, downing the rest of her hot chocolate and placing the mug on the table.

Lena takes a dainty sip of her own still mostly filled mug. “Fine.”

There’s a long pause, and Kara taps her fingers on her pant leg and tries to think of a new conversation starter. She finally settles on. “In the interest of honesty… how are you holding up?”

Lena shrugs. “I’m okay, I suppose. I’m anxious about Lex—I know it’s only a matter of time before he’s back on our heels. Mostly, I’m just glad to have you back.” She looks over her mug at Kara. “I think that’s more a question I should be asking you, though.”

The look of intense concern in Lena’s eyes makes her feel hot, and Kara squirms slightly, pulling her collar away from her neck with a finger. She wants to say I’m fine, but honesty is the whole point of this exercise. “I’m… still not great. Being back there it… brought up a lot. Brought back a lot. I’m still having a really hard time with it all. It’s—it’s hard to talk about.”

“We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“I want to talk about with you at some point. I just… don’t want it to ruin every conversation I have, you know? I want some things to be normal, still. I want to pretend things can be normal.”

“That makes sense,” Lena nods. She looks small when she says, “In the—in the interest of honesty, are you still mad?”

“At you?” Lena nods again, and Kara sighs, looking away. “It’s complicated, I guess. A little, maybe? I meant it when I said I forgave you, but there’s still part of me that’s a little angry. You did a lot of things that were… really bad, Lena.”

“I know.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Kara asks, and Lena’s shaking her head before she even finishes the question.

“No. No, I’m done being mad at you. I get it. I get why you hid your identity, and I wish you’d told me sooner, but I’m not angry anymore. I don’t have enough energy to be angry anymore. I’m happier if I don’t hate you.”

“Well, I’m glad for that.”

“I would have done anything to get you back, you know,” Lena says in a rush, words spilling out like she can’t stop them. “You say I did bad things before, but I would have watched the world burn if it meant I could have brought you back.” She looks down at her lap. “Who knows what I would have done if Alex hadn’t been there to stop me.”

“Lena.” Kara reaches over to take her hand. “You know I can’t possibly be mad at you for that.”

“No?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay,” Lena whispers. Kara watches her swirl around the dregs of her hot chocolate and takes a deep breath.

There’s still one more secret between them. One more secret that has the potential to ruin their friendship. Kara thinks they’re both aware of it, on some level. Aware of the way the weight of it shifts their every interaction. The others are aware of it too, have maybe known longer than Kara has. Alex certainly has. It was she who looked Kara in the eye when they were discussing this whole honestly policy and said, “You have to tell her this. You know you do.”

She can’t risk another secret in their relationship.

“Um, in the interest of honesty,” she starts, and finds she can’t quite meet Lena’s eyes. “I have to tell you—in all honesty, I would probably just keep it a secret, if I could, but I don’t think we should do secrets anymore, so I just need to tell you that I, um, have feelings for you.”

Lena straightens. “Feelings?” she says, her voice cautious.

Kara closes her eyes. Takes a breath. Steadies herself. Opens them again. “I’m in love with you,” she says. “Um, nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, but I need… I need you to know.”

“Oh,” breathes Lena. She opens her mouth, and it seem to take several moments for the words to catch up with her. “Well, in—in the interest of honesty, Kara, I’ve—I’ve been in love with you for years.” She gives a wry little half smile. “If we’re being honest.”

“What? You have?”

“Darling,” says Lena. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“The day we met?”

“Why do you think it hurt me so badly when I found out who you were? Why do you think I was so deep in denial about it that I never figured it out myself? Do you really think you were that good at hiding it?”

“I mean, I thought—”

“The disguise. The hair. The glasses.” She puts down her mug, then reaches over and gently tugs the glasses from Kara’s face, folding the arms in and placing them on the table. She brushes a strand of hair behind Kara’s ear. “You mentioned Supergirl far too much as Kara and Kara far too much as Supergirl and one time you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

“That’s—yeah, that’s fair, actually.”

“You’re in love with me? Honestly?” whispers Lena.

“I am. I really, truly am. Why do you think I refused to give up on you when everyone else was ready to?”

“I thought that just how you are. You don’t give up on anyone.”

“I try not to. But you, I could never bear to, even when it seemed like the only logical option to everyone else. Why do you think I waited so long to tell you in the first place? I was so scared to ruin things between us.”

“Why do you think I bought you an entire media empire?” Lena murmurs, and she’s so close, hand fisted in the collar of Kara’s shirt.

Kara giggles. “Why do you think I flew all over Europe to get you lunch?”

Lena laughs, and it’s such a relief to hear her laughter again, to let the conversation flow between them. There’s a bud of hope for the future that’s been sitting in Kara’s chest for years now, and under Lena’s adoring gaze, it starts to open.

“In all honesty,” Kara says, “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Lena slips a hand into her hair, runs her thumb over Kara’s cheekbone. “In all honesty?” She leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “I’d like that.”

[cjsinkythoughts]

Windows Down, Music Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3730

Warnings: !FATWS Spoilers!, Cursing, Lotsa Fluff, Slight Angst, Talk of PTSD/Flashbacks, No Seatbelts at One Point (WEAR SEATBELTS!)

A/N: The Part I didn’t know I needed. I started writing and this is where it got me. I needed these soft moments after the intensity of the last few parts. I know I said there’d only be one part left, but…I didn’t know this Part would be so long. So three parts for episode 5 it is!

I hope you enjoy this! I know it’s not really a part of the show, but I love the idea and I think both Bucky and the Reader needed it. Plus the show has a lot of leeway this episode because time passes but they kinda skip over traveling and stuff, so I thought I’d give you a glimpse of what it looks like in mine!

Not beta’d, as per usual! All mistakes are mine and please excuse them! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

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

“So what’s next?” You questioned, your feet hooked onto the bar below the bar you were sitting on so you didn’t fall. Not that you could - Bucky was right next to you, his hand flying to your thigh every time you shifted even a little bit to keep you steady. “Walker’s been arrested, we have the shield, Karli’s in the wind…where does that leave us? Do we have any leads on Karli right now?”

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli, but so far they’ve only found her followers. They’ve searched this camp, and just like the last camp, nothing. She’s gone. And we’ll never find her.”

You huffed at Sam’s words, rubbing your temples as you grumble, “way to look on the bright side.”

“What bright side? There’s not one here, cher. Not this time.”

“Hey.” Bucky snapped. “Back off, Sam.”

You grabbed his forearm and squeezed reassuringly. “Hey! You got your, uh, you got your sleeve back!” You turned at the familiar voice that caused Bucky to scoff lightly and shake his head.

“Torres!”

The kid smiled at you, waving as Bucky pushed off the bars, helping you down (he’d been refusing to let you do anything on your own since you woke up) and started walking towards the door. “Hi, Y/N. It’s been a while.”

“Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam questioned, making Bucky look over his shoulder at the three of you. The former assassin raised an eyebrow at you. You nodded, and he turned around to leave. 

“Alright! Good to know you survived!”

You snickered a bit at the kid. “It’s good to see you.”

Torres turned back to you and grinned. “You too. I really am glad you survived.”

“I know you are, kid.”

Sam looked at you questioningly. “Are you gonna go with him?” You pursed your lips, chewing your cheek, and nodded. “Alright. C’mere.”

You frowned as he lifted his arms, but walked into them anyways. “What’re we doing right now? This isn’t goodbye. We’ve still gotta find Karli.”

“For now.” He responded, setting his chin on your head, careful of your shoulder. “But we don’t have any leads and I’m sure we’ve been benched. So, until we do and we meet again, stay safe. And take care of yourself. And for the love of God, please have that conversation with cyborg, now.”

A small puff of laughter came from you and you nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you later then, Sammy.”

He pressed a kiss to your head, before letting you go. “Later, cher.”

“Bye, Y/N!”

You smiled, waving to Torres. “Bye, kid. Keep out of trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked out the door Bucky disappeared through earlier, turning down the hall to exit the building.

When you got outside, you found Bucky leaning against a wall, narrowed eyes watching the police as they finished the raid. “Do you agree with it?”

“What?”

“These people getting arrested.”

You shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets. “They harbored a criminal.”

He looked at you with a frown, eyebrows knit together and forehead creased. “We harbored a criminal. We broke him out.”

“Technically he broke himself out.” Your joke fell flat, Bucky’s head dropping. “Buck…” You sighed, eyes following a lady as she was shoved into the back of a car. “No. I don’t. I think these people have been through enough.”

“But?” His eyes grew sad as you met his gaze again, making you smile softly at him.

“But we can’t do anything about it right now. So we need to focus on doing what we can and finding Zemo.”

He nodded, reaching for your hand as he straightened and started walking off. You grabbed his fingers, jogging slightly to fall into sync with his strides. He seemed to notice and slowed down slightly. “We already know where he is, though. Don’t we?”

You hummed, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Where else would he be?”

“Anywhere.”

You shook your head. “No. He’s there. Question is…how are you going to take care of him?”

“Sam thinks I’m gonna kill him.”

His blunt statement made you raise an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Licking his lips, he looked down at you, eyes set with certainty. “No.”

Your lips pulled up at his answer, leaning closer into him, shoulders brushing. “Good. Not that I’m an advocate for never killing people ever…it’s just,” you chewed on your cheek, thinking about the previous day’s events. “Revenge and justice are two different things.”

“Yeah.” He agreed softly. “We kinda witnessed that.”

“Yeah…we did.”

He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your shoulders, tenderly avoiding your wrapped wound. “Good thing I contacted Ayo while you were sleeping then, huh?”

“You did?” You looked up at him with a smile as he nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah. And…I’ve been thinking a lot. Since our conversation about Wakanda and Zemo and Sam. You were right.”

A smirk graced your lips, an eyebrow quirking in amusement. “Pardon me? I don’t think I heard you correctly. What was that?”

He rolled his eyes, reaching over with his free hand to shove your head lightly, making you laugh. “You are such a punk sometimes. I’m serious though, doll. I-I’ve been…I dunno…I haven’t been thinking straight. The whole thing with Zemo was wrong and-and Sam didn’t deserve what I was blaming him for.”

You froze in your steps, tugging him to a stop as well, staring at him thoughtfully. Just since that phone call a couple weeks ago he’d grown so much. You could barely believe what he was saying - that he was finally saying it. He was a stubborn ass sometimes, so to hear him say that? It just stunned you. You knew he was a good person, but this…you felt yourself falling more, which you thought was impossible.

“Doll? Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

Your arms raised around his neck, tugging him down into a hug, your lips pressing to his cheek. “I’m just proud of you.” You murmured softly, kissing his temple. He ducked his head, leaning against your shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You held him like for another minute or two, before kissing his temple again. “We should get going. Gotta get to Sokovia before the Dora do.”

He hummed in agreement, pulling you tighter against him and squeezing you slightly, before letting go. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Question.” You said once you two started walking again.

“Possible answer.” He replied, making you elbow him as he chuckled.

“How’re we gonna get to Sokovia?”

He blinked, tilting his head. “Uh…plane? Unless you wanna have a road trip. The plane would only take a couple hours at most and a car, well…I could have us there in under a day with some broken traffic laws.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Know what? I could go for a road trip right now.”

“Yeah?” He grinned at you.

“Yeah. And yes, you can drive. Just don’t get us in the middle of a high speed chase.”

He winked, kissing your head. “No promises.”

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

Bucky was actually a very good road trip partner. He made sure you had plenty of your snacks and let you control the music, turning up the volume for your favorite songs, shouting the lyrics to the heavens as you danced in your seat, the windows rolled down, wind ripping through the car, ruffling both of your clothes and hair.

You grinned over at Bucky, bobbing your head to the beat as he stared back at you, his eyes soft and sparkling. “Watch the road, dork!” He chuckled as you shoved his face.

“I’d much rather watch you.”

You felt yourself heat up despite the cool breeze moving through the car. “Have you ever stuck your head out the sunroof?” You suddenly asked him.

He gave you a weird look. “What?” Feeling a bit mischievous, you smirked and unbuckled. “Woah, woah! What are you doing?! But your seatbelt back on!”

“Oh calm down!” You stood on the seat after opening the sunroof, the top half of your body outside the car. He laughed as you whooped and hollered.

“Alright, alright. Sit back down, doll.” He tugged you back in, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

You smiled, putting your seatbelt back on and plopping your feet on the dash. “Like what?”

He turned to look at you, his teeth pulling his bottom lip between them contemplating. “Carefree. Relaxed, even.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your seat. “I don’t get to do it often. But it’s so hard to care right now.” You gestured out to the gorgeous landscape you were moving through, the sunsetting on the horizon. “The wind, the music, the open road. Nothing feels more like freedom.”

“Yeah…yeah. I guess. I’ve never really…been on a road trip. Unless you count going across Germany in that little blue car-”

“Ha! That was not a road trip! That was Steve being a reckless dumbass driver for a few hours.”

He laughed. You’d heard him laugh before, but this was different. Something about the freedom you were talking about made it different. It was nice. And you’d do anything to hear it more often.

“I’ll take you on a real road trip once this is done.” You vowed. “We’ll hit all the states. Even go through Canada to get to Alaska. Nothing but us in a car for weeks. Wherever we wanna go.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

You winked. “You do that.”

Conversation died after that, the only sounds being you and your music with the occasional chuckle from Bucky at your over dramatic dancing. You made a few stops at gas stations, getting food and drinks, before you felt yourself start winding down as the stars came out, winking down at you. You didn’t even realize you drifted off until the car jostled, waking you up.

“Sorry, sleepyhead.” Bucky apologized. “There was a deer. Maybe if you put your seatbelt on you would’ve stayed asleep.”

You rolled your eyes, rubbing at them and blinking. It was still dark out, no hint of the sun peeking out yet. “They’re uncomfortable.” You grumbled, shifting and wincing at your leg which was still asleep. “What time is it?”

“Almost two.” Bucky answered. “Are you okay? Is your shoulder hurting?”

“No. My leg’s just asleep so it feels weird and it’s aching. You want me to drive so you can sleep?”

“Nah, it’s fine. We’ll be there in a few hours. I’ve got it.” 

You hummed, sitting up and digging through your bag for some food. “Hungry?”

“Uh…I’ll just take a bag of pretzels.” Nodding, you grabbed one of the bags and handed it to him. It was quiet, the radio now turned low on some jazzy station you were sure Bucky turned it to once you fell asleep. “I’ve been thinking-”

“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself.” He shot you a bemused look, making you giggle. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“I’ve been thinking of that fight. With Walker.”

You tensed, clearing your throat as you munch on your snack. “Oh?”

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips, setting the bag down on the middle console, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “When you were fighting him…why-why’d you hesitate?”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced over at you quickly, forehead creased. “You had the shield. You were holding your own. I’m sure Steve taught you some stuff…but then…” He trailed off, seemingly trying to find words. “It was like that first fight. On the semi trucks. You hesitated. Got distracted. Why?”

You shrugged, turning back to your food nonchalantly. “I guess I just had a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

“I know you better than that, doll. Please don’t lie to me.” Turning to the window, you just noticed that yours wasn’t down anymore. You look over to his side to see his was only a little cracked open. “I didn’t want you to wake up so I rolled them up. Answer the question.”

Letting out a sigh, you shrugged again. “I’ve been having…flashbacks.”

“Flashbacks?”

You nodded, sipping on your water bottle. “Yeah. Kinda like PTSD, but it’s not. Not really. They’re never traumatic or anything.”

You could see the gears in his head turning, his jaw clenching. “What are they about then?”

“Steve.”

The tension in his shoulders slipped, his head ducking while still keeping his eyes on the road. “Oh…why…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want anyone to worry about me with all the other problems we’re having-”

“Hey.” Your eyes snapped up from where they fell at his sharp tone, his gaze meeting yours. “Don’t ever think that. Ever. You’re not a fucking burden, Y/N. You’re important to me. I-” He cut himself off, shaking his head and looking back out the front. “Does Sam know at least?”

You pursed your lips. “I-I told Sharon?”

He groaned, head falling back against the seat. “Sweetheart…”

“They’re just memories. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is if it’s affecting you on the field. And if it’s gonna get you or someone else hurt-”

Crossing your arms, you shifted in your seat, feeling the ache in your legs from sleeping in that position too long. “What? You don’t trust me now?”

“No! That’s not what I’m saying!”

“What’re you saying, Buck? You can’t have me watching your back because my mind’s messed up right now?” The car came to a halt and you sat up, looking around worriedly to see if any cars were coming. “James, we’re in the middle of the street-”

“Look at me.” You turned to him, only to look away at the intensity of his eyes. “Doll. Look at me.” He repeated tenderly, grabbing your chin between his fingers, making you face him. “I trust you.” His tone was nothing but genuine, and you’d never seen him look so sincere. “With my life, I trust you. But if your head isn’t in it? It’s okay, you just need to tell someone. When did you start trusting me?”

“At the airport in Germany.” You answered quietly.

He tilted his head. You kinda missed his long hair - the way it used to get in his eyes and you’d have to brush it behind his ear. “Even though I could still get triggered?”

“Well, yeah. But that’s different! You wouldn’t have been in your right…mind if you were…triggered…”

He raised an eyebrow as you frowned. “Trusting you and trusting your mental state are two different things. I’d know. Sometimes our brain’s do stupid things and we can’t stop it. But we can get help.”

You sighed, hanging your head. “Okay. Alright. I got it. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just…tell me about it.”

You nodded, before looking at the road. “Okay, okay. But can you drive? We’re still in the middle of the road.”

He chuckled and nodded, starting up the car again. After a moment, he glanced at you. “So?”

Another sigh left your lips, before you told him. You told him what’s triggered you so far and what the memories were about. How it feels when you slip. “It’s like, I remember something and my mind latches onto it and won’t let me out until I relive it again.” He just nodded, never interrupting as you explained what was going on.

It felt good to finally get it off your chest. And it felt good knowing he wasn’t freaking out and pulling you from the mission like you thought he’d do. It was something you hadn’t done in a long time. The last person who sat down and listened to your problems was Steve and the fact that you felt comfortable enough around Bucky to pour out your soul made you realize that Steve was gone. But Bucky was here. And maybe it was time to let go.

Bucky looked over to you when you stopped talking abruptly, cocking his head to the side. “Sweetheart? You alright?”

You lunged forwards, hugging his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. Fortunately for you, he had great reflexes, or else you’d probably be wrapped around a tree. You couldn’t care about the what ifs though. Sniffing, you closed your eyes, a couple tears leaking down your cheeks and landing on the skin connecting his shoulder to his neck.

“Thank you.”

It was so soft and muffled by his shirt, you weren’t sure if he heard it. But then he set his cheek on your head, his hand coming up to run through your hair like you did to him when he needed comfort. “C’mere, cuddle bug.” He cradled your head, shifting you easily so you could lay down comfortably, your legs curled in your seat, your head in his lap, taking extra care that your shoulder wasn’t agitated. “Try to get more sleep, doll. We’ll be there soon.”

You nodded, sleep taking over you once more with Bucky’s fingers in your hair, soft jazz still floating through the air along with the slight whistle of the wind from the crack in his window.

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

You leaned against the hood of the car, crossing your arms, watching Bucky pull on a shirt. You had stopped at a rest stop to clean up and change, just a few more miles until you got to the memorial.

“Ayo’s there already.” Bucky spoke, shrugging on his jacket. You pushed off the hood of the car to pull him closer by the sides of his jacket, your fingers moving to button it. “I just…I want a couple minutes alone with him.”

You nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

“You trust me right?”

“More than anything.” You confirmed, looking up at him, smoothing his jacket down with your hands.

He nodded, leaning forwards to kiss your forehead. “I just - I just need you to know…I’m not gonna kill him.”

You nodded back, smiling softly at him. “I know.”

“Okay…let’s get going then. Get this over with.”

It didn’t take you long to reach the memorial, only a few more minutes down the main street and then going off down a side road.

Just as Bucky said, the Dora Milaje were already there, waiting for the two of you to show up. Bucky and Ayo had a conversation in Xhosa - which you were really regretting not learning anything more than “hi”, “please”, “thank you”, and “where’s the bathroom?” - before he turned to you.

“Stay with them. Just...I just need a couple minutes.” You nodded, eyes flickering down to the gun he pulled out from his coat pocket. He hooked a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze back to him. “Trust me.”

“Sometimes our brains do stupid things.”

He shook his head, kissing your forehead. “Not this time. ‘Cause I have help.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded. He gave you a reassuring smile, before stepping away, out of the trees to face Zemo. You couldn’t hear what was being said, but you had to admit that when Bucky lifted the gun, your heart skipped a beat. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He promised.

The quiet click of the gun seemed to echo, a pressure lifting off your chest as the bullets spilled from Bucky’s hand, clattering against the ground.

You figured that was the signal, considering Ayo led her badass women out to grab Zemo right after the bullets hit the ground, so you followed them out. You stopped next to Bucky, his hand slipping out of his pocket to wrap around your shoulders, tugging you to his side, your arms wrapping around his waist.

“I was listening to your heartbeat. You get nervous for a second, doll?”

You hummed in response to his question in your ear. “I trust you…but that doesn’t mean you don’t raise my anxiety levels.”

He snickered, kissing your temple, before straightening to listen to what Ayo had to say as she stepped towards you. She informed you both that Zemo would be going to the Raft and told Bucky to stay away from Wakanda for a while; both very fair statements that you weren’t surprised to hear. What you were surprised to hear was Bucky’s next sentence.

“I may have another favor to ask of you.”

Ayo raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to go on. Bucky caught your eye and his lips twitched up into a small smirk, before he faced her again and started speaking Xhosa, making you groan.

After their conversation, Ayo nodded. “We will drop it off here tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.”

You pouted as Ayo turned to walk to their ship, Bucky starting to lead you back to the car. “You’re not gonna tell me what that was about, are you?”

“Nope.”

You huffed. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

He chuckled. “You’ll find out.”

“Soon?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

Bucky shrugged, pulling open the passenger side door for you. “On when Sam wants you to see it.”

You narrowed your eyes, a smile spreading on your face. “You got Sammy a present?”

“Maybe.”

You groaned, sliding into the car before he shut the door, watching him jog to his side. “You’re so annoying.” You spoke once he got in and started the vehicle again.

“If you feel that way, you don’t have to come to Louisiana with me to drop it off.”

Scoffing, you gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shrugged, turning in his seat and putting his hand on the back of your headrest to back out of the spot he parked in. “If I’m so annoying-”

“You’re so dramatic!”

“I thought I was annoying?”

“You’re both!”

He grinned at you, before looking through the windshield, blinking as something occurred to him. “I dunno where we’re going. We have to come back tomorrow morning-”

“Just drive, Buck.”

He blinked at you, eyebrows raising in slight shock. “What?”

You shrugged, nodding your head to the road. “Drive. Wherever we want, remember? Just until tomorrow. We can go back to reality after we pick up Sammy’s gift, but for now-”

“Just drive?” He guessed, the corners of his lips pulling up.

You smirked, shooting him a wink before propping your feet up on the dash again, turning up the radio, and linking your hands behind your head. “Exactly, Buckaroo.”

[ahtsumu]

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

[familyfriendlyweed]

makeup sessions (karl jacobs x fem reader)

a/n : hi! this is my first tumblr post. i have written stuff on wattpad in the past, but it’s still quite new to me, so please be nice :]] i accept positive critism and advice, as that most definitely will help me grow as a writer!

 Y/n let out something between a squeal and a scream at the same time when she saw Karl's tweet. her face was beat red and her lips couldn't help but curl into the stupidest grin ever.

the tweet read :

hey @) y/nhasursocks wanna do my makeup at my stream today :]]

 it was the simplest tweet, yet it meant so much to the girl. Karl and Y/n were always really good friends, they often streamed minecraft together, but never in a million years did he yet ask her to be in his stream in real life.

 Y/n picked up the phone with trembling hands, already seeing a bunch of likes, comments and retweets to Karl's tweet. before answering, she got curious to know what the people say. cautiously opening the comments section, the girl scanned it through with her eyes. a bunch of "awwwwws" and hearts could be seen, which worsened her already red cheeks.

With her heart thumping hard against her ribs, she started writing her reply :

sounds great! <3

 for a moment Y/n hesitated to press the "reply" button with the "<3" emoticon in the comment, but then she figured she and Karl sent lovey dovey emojis/emoticons in the past to each other anyways, so, she pressed the "reply" button at last.

 in an instant, her reply started gaining more and more likes, comments and retweets. Y/n was never really popular, having her clout was only because of Karl being her friend, so seeing this much attention was weird to her. but she didn't care about that right now. all that Y/n cared about at the moment was the fact that Karl appreciated her enough to actually invite her over.

 a little bit later in the day, Y/n received a private message from Karl, which said :

hey Y/n! I'm really glad you're up to stream together <3 i planned on starting the stream at 4 pm, but you can change the time if you're busy :] here is my address (don't tell anyone! :D) - (random address lol)

 Y/n answered :

 thanks for inviting me bestie!! 4 pm is cool, I'll be there! <33

 she set the phone down, unable to remove the blissful smile from her face. she has never felt this way before - it was really weird, but the constant butterflies in her tummy reminded her that it's a good feeling. taking a few deep breaths, Y/n reminded to herself that all she has to do is to go to Karl's house and have a good time AS FRIENDS - no romantic stuff is needed.

  ~~~~~time skip~~~~~

  Y/n got off from the bus at 15:50, but she still had about 5 minutes to reach Karl's house. in what felt like forever, the girl felt a sting of what was unmistakably fear and guilt - what if she was late? and what if Karl would be annoyed with her for that?

 slowly she broke into a panicky run. passing careless citizens, who all looked at her fear-stricken face curiously, she finally made it to the front door of Karl's home. Y/n pulled out her phone and found the code that she was supposed to enter next the main door. she quickly dialed it, a beep beep beep was heard and she entered.  

 finally making it to Karl's apartment, Y/n stopped to smooth her hair and straighten her clothes so she doesn't look too shabby. her body seemed to be moving on its own - her finger pressed the doorbell automatically.

 Karl opened the door almost in an instant - he wore a warm smile and before Y/n could stutter a "hello", he pulled the girl into a big welcoming hug.

 "hey Y/n! it's so cool you made it!" Karl exclaimed, still holding her close.

Y/n's head was spinning, she needed more time to process what was happening. but nevertheless, she finally lifted her own arms and hugged the guy. burying her face into his sweater, she inhaled Karl's scent deeply - he smelled something like honey and warm days.

"hello, Karl." she mumbled with a grin on her face.

"come on, do you want to eat something before the stream?" Karl asked, letting go of the girl and taking her hand into his instead, leading Y/n into the house.

"oh no, I'm full. let's get straight to business." she answered, the blissful smile and content blush never leaving her face.

"alrighty! you already know, but we'll have an eventful makeup session, and then I thought maybe play some minecraft so the stream isn't too short?" the guy asked, opening his bedroom door.

"sounds great!"

Karl smiled and went to his computer :

"you ready? I'll start the stream now."

the girl quickly fixed her hair again and gave him thumbs up :

"ready."

Karl started the stream with facecam on and as soon as the chat saw Y/n, it went absolutely wild.

"guys, give her a rest, poor girl just came!" he laughed, drawing her a chair. Y/n thanked quietly and sat, waving to the chat timidly. in the corner of her eye, she saw comments like "she's so adorable" and "look at Karl being a gentleman" in the chat and her cheeks grew more red, but this time from satisfaction.

"well, as you guys know, Y/n agreed to be in my stream today, and since some of you don't really know her, she's a really good friend of mine who also streams and does youtube videos - so go support her!"

from that moment Y/n relaxed more and more with each minute. it was fifteen minutes into the stream when she already felt as if at home.

"Karl, you have a hell lot of lipsticks, where did that come from?"

"uhhhh, I only bought them for the stream today!"

"oh really? why are they all used, then?" Y/n asked giggling and showing them to the stream.

"hey- don't expose me like that!"

"chat, clip it, CLIP IT!"

all was going really well, Y/n was having a really good time with Karl AS FRIENDS. it was really nice. but all hell broke loose when the time to put eyeliner came.

"alright, I have no idea why, but you have four eyeliners."

"they're my sister's."

"haha, yeah, yeah, alright. Which one do you want big man?"

"hmmm, the one in your left hand!"

Y/n set the other eyeliners on the table, quickly glancing at the chat. her cheeks grew very very red…

"Y/N DO THE MEME SIT ON HIS LAP" "SIT ON HIS LAP" "THE MEME, DO THE MEME!!!"

  a/n: if anyone is confused, this is an example of the meme i’m talking about :

the girl tried to act as if she hadn't seen the comments, but Karl was already by her side, reading them with her.

"meme… what meme?" he wondered out loud. Y/n got the impression that he was genuinely confused.

'chat, shut the fuck up, please shut the fuck up.' thought Y/n, but of course chat was just being chat.

"SHE SHOULD SIT ON UR LAP" "THERE'S A MEME WHERE A GIRL DOES A GUY'S EYELINER WHILE SITTING ON HIS LAP" "WE'RE NOT FORCING BUT YOU GUYS WOULD LOOK SO CUTE"

Y/n hid her face in her hands, unable to control her blushing. Karl just chuckled sweetly :

"chat, calm down, she's going to die from blushing."

he put on the "please stand by" screen and scooted over Y/n :

"hey, it's fine. we won't do it if you don't want to," Karl then leaned closer and whispered, "I'd be pretty glad if you agreed, though."

Y/n lowered her hands, showing off the big red hue on her cheeks. for a split second Karl's eyes widened -  she looked really adorable.

"I'd also be glad." the girl said, almost not believing her own words.

Karl's adorable smile came back and he leaned back:

"well then, come here."

Y/n stood up shyly and straddled his legs, grabbing the eyeliner in the process.

"do you want me to turn on the facecam?" Karl asked quietly.

the girl nodded :

"I don't mind."

he turned it on and put his hands onto Y/n's hips. even without looking at it, Y/n knew the chat was blowing up at the moment.

"you guys better subscribe, because we're providing very good fanservice." said Karl jokingly and Y/n laughed. turning to him, she opened the eyeliner and put it next to his eye, only to find him staring at her in an awe. the girl blushed as a strong urge to kiss him kicked in. it looked as if Karl wanted the same thing.

at the precise same time, they both leaned in and pressed their lips together, Y/n putting her hands onto Karl's cheeks to hide the view from the chat. the kiss was very short and with no tongue included - but it was the most sweet kiss Y/n has ever shared with someone. she pulled away, an identical grin to Karl's on her face and hugged him very tight - they almost fell off the chair.

laughing, she continued to do Karl's makeup as if nothing happened and everyone watching the stream wasn't fainting and clipping the kiss. this will be talked about for a long time, but as before, Y/n didn't care about that, and nor did Karl.

a/n : anddddd cut! it’s quite wonky, but i believe it’s pretty swell for my first mcyt fanfic :]] let me know what you think of it and if you have any tips or advice on how to make my future stories more enjoyable! thanks for reading and i hope to see you around <3

[watercolorfreckles]

The Villain and His Therapist - Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

"You know, that shade of pink looks lovely on you," Villain purred, descending the stairs to lean against the kitchen counter.

Juliet paused where she was scrambling eggs in a skillet and glanced down at her attire of soft blue pajama pants and oversized grey sweater. "I'm not wearing any pink," she said slowly, lifting her gaze to look at the Villain.

He'd just come down from a shower, dark locks of hair curling over his forehead. He smelled of her green apple shampoo. It made her insides swoop all funny.

Villain's lips tugged into an easy grin as he took one step closer, two. He paused directly in front of her to lift a hand, brushing his knuckles feather-light against her burning cheek.

"I was referring to your blush. It suits you quite beautifully." His voice was liquid gold. Her skin tingled beneath his touch.

Remembering herself, Juliet swatted his hand away and covered her cheeks with her palms. "I'm not blushing."

He didn't try to hide the amusement on his face.

"Mm, whatever were you thinking about, Doctor Meadows?" Villain took Juliet's hands to gently pry them away from her face, using the hold on her wrists to pull her closer.

Juliet sucked in a soft breath, looking up at him. The sun streaming through the window caught the highlights of his handsome face and illuminated his dark irises, turning them to molten amber.

"I...was...thinking about how gentle you can be. When you calmed me down that night, you were patient and sensitive; you displayed a lot of empathy and care. I'm really proud of you. You've come a long way."

Villain's grin grew a little softer as he tilted his head to the side, studying her face. The way he looked at her used to make her feel like prey being stalked by a lion. Now...it made her feel like she was the only thing in his universe.

Her stomach fluttered.

Juliet swallowed, continuing. "I imagine it isn't easy for you to be so vulnerable. I'm glad that you feel safe enough with me to be soft."

Villain brushed her fringe away from her face, tapping the side of her head. "That psychologist brain of yours never turns off, does it?"

She smiled sheepishly, gaze dipping down to the floor.

Villain's finger hooked under her chin, lifting it gently. "I never said I didn't like it. You are my therapist, after all."

Villain leaned in closer, eliciting the slightest hitch in her breath. He smiled, relishing her response.

His breath ghosted over her lips, leaving them tingling in anticipation.

"Yours?" she asked softly. Her mouth had gone dry.

"Would you like to be?"

Juliet's thoughts were rarely clear on her face. She was difficult to read under the years of training keeping her steady and prepared. Villain wanted to unpick that artificial calm from her; to map her every reaction. He wanted to watch her sigh and blush and smile...

"The eggs are going to burn," Juliet whispered, watching him.

Without taking his eyes off of her, Villain reached over her shoulder, turning off the stove. In one fluid movement, he turned with her, pressing her back against the counter.

If her cheeks were warm before, they were blazing now. Villain smiled again, this time something so fond it dazzled her senses. The world narrowed to just the two of them, flush together.

Juliet's hands fell against Villain's chest, lightly resting against the soft cotton of his shirt.

She breathed in his scent.

"Villain?"

"Mm?" he murmured, the hum of his voice vibrating against her palms.

"When your brother- What he said about how you feel...about me... Is it true?" She held his gaze, holding her breath.

"My sweet Juliet Meadows." His voice alone was enough to melt her. He took one of her hands with deliberate gentleness and placed a kiss against her fingers. "If only I were brave enough to say it out loud."

"You can say it in other ways," Juliet breathed.

His eyes gleamed.

"Oh I intend to," Villain said softly.

Villain's gaze flicked down to Juliet's lips. He kept one hand on her waist, slotting the other into her hair. He leaned in until their lips brushed. Pausing, he seemed to catch himself, probably remembering Juliet's comments in therapy about the importance of healthy communication.

He smiled again, sharp and beautiful. His warm breath grazed her skin while his thumb traced lazy circles against her jaw. "May I?" he whispered, his lips hovering just barely above hers.

Juliet opened her mouth to answer, and-

The door burst open.

Juliet jolted in surprise, panic shooting through her as she gripped Villain's arms before she caught sight of who was really at the door.

The figure was fitted in a deep red super-suit, a black mask concealing his identity.

She relaxed, releasing a breath through gritted teeth. "Hero?"

"Doctor Meadows," Hero said, relief flooding his expression. "I heard what happened to you on the news and with Supervillain's escape, I knew you were in danger so I-"

His eyes narrowed as he seemed to notice Villain for the first time. "You get away from her," he hissed marching closer, crimson beams of tech-powered energy sparking to life in his palms. "Let her go and get out."

Villain hardened at the sight of him in turn, straightening and pulling out an advanced weapon. "Now that's insulting, at least I was invited inside." His voice was smooth and dangerous. Chilling.

A far cry from the man who had held her close and smiled fondly only moments ago.

Juliet stepped between them, holding up a hand in each direction. "Stop."

"You invited him in? Doctor Meadows, he's Supervillain's brother! He's probably here to finish the job for him!"

"Oh that's rich," Villain interjected. "For all your self-righteous monologues begging me to change, to be better, when I actually try, you can't accept it."

"I'm not willing to bet Doctor Meadow's life on your 'moral awakening,'" Hero spat.

"Hero," Juliet said in the no-nonsense voice her job often required her to use. "Take a deep breath. Villain would never hurt me, you don't need to worry about that."

"He-"

"-is in rehabilitation," Juliet finished for him. "He is my patient, just as you are. He has made tremendous progress, you are in no position to discredit his reformation. I promise you that I am safe with him."

Hero stared, studying the pair. Villain's jaw was clenched, glaring hard at the hero. Juliet touched his shoulder and some of the tension immediately dissolved from him.

Hero extinguished the energy beams in his palms, shifting into a less guarded stance. He regarded them for a second longer.

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"You want to prove you have good intentions? Help me find Supervillain and bring him in, for good this time," Hero said. "I can't do it alone."

Villain turned to look at Juliet. She stepped closer, taking his hand as she spoke.

"No. I don't want you to put yourself in a position where your recovery might be compromised again. You're too close to the situation to act rationally, and it would be too much of a trigger for you."

Villain's gaze softened as it landed on her, any hostility in his demeanor vanishing like it had never been there. He brushed her hair back with gentle fingers, leaning in. His thumb dipped down to graze her lips.

Villain kissed her cheek, her chin, the corner of her mouth. He straightened, eyes intent, looking like he wanted to kiss her properly--but not until they were alone.

When time would suspend like frost in the air and the moment would belong solely to the two of them, in the quiet and safety of each other.

Juliet's skin felt cold at the loss of his touch. Dread swirled in the pit of her stomach.

Villain turned to Hero, observing him for a moment before extending a hand to shake. "Deal."

Sorry I haven't posted in so loooong. I kept putting off writing this bc I was worried id mess it up lol. This is officially the longest series I've posted so far (the rest of my snippets have 3 parts or less) so wooo! Let me know if you want to see more :)

General Taglist: @writing-on-the-wahl , @valiantlytransparentwhispers , @distance-does-not-matter , @redbircl , @lilaccatholic , @crazytwentythrees , @thelazywitchphotographer , @deadlygemuwu, @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost , @tobeornottobeateacher , @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @thanatoastie , @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1 , (@distractedlydistracted i think forgot to tag you in the last part, oops)

You're on this list if you've asked to be tagged in any of my stories. Please let me know if you want to be added or removed. :)

Edit: the tags weren't working so I redid them through mobile, let me know if it worked!

[goldentournesol]

Operation Make Believe

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer and Reader go undercover as a couple at a fancy restaurant to catch a prolific unsub.

Length: 5k 

A/N: enjoy this lil fic while i take a short break from my series :D

masterlist

“Okay, so we’re looking for a guy who targets rich heterosexual couples.” Morgan stated from his seat at the round table. Looking at the photos almost made Y/N sick, she nervously twirled one of her rings around her pointer finger.

“He’s quite violent, too. Removing the men’s fingernails and chopping off the women's’ hair? That’s a pretty specific signature.” Emily spoke, glancing at the file.

“So let me get this straight, this man has killed 7 couples and we’re hearing about this just now?” Rossi questioned with indignance.

“Unfortunately, local PD has found it incredibly difficult to track this unsub down. That’s why we’re being called in.” Hotch replied, without even a twitch to his brow.

“So the guy’s good, how are we gonna get him?” JJ asked, leaning back in her chair.

“We know he frequents the local high-end restaurants because that’s where he picks his couples, he almost always picks victims who have just gone to dinner together, judging by the contents of their stomachs thanks to the autopsy reports. We should canvas the restaurants first and ask waiters if they find anyone suspicious. After that, we are sending in two undercover agents to try and lure him out.” Hotch explained and then a short silence ensued.

Y/N looked up from her file to find most of the team’s eyes on either her or Reid, “What?”

“You and Reid are the obvious candidates.” Hotch put it simply. Y/N glanced at Reid nervously, who happened to look just as nervous as she felt. He cleared his throat.

“Can I ask why us?” Spencer inquired.

“You two are the most compatible, considering your friendship and how close you are in age, and it would look the most realistic. We need to be as realistic as possible with this unsub, he is extremely picky. Make it believable. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch answered, straightening the files on the table and promptly leaving the conference room.

Spencer and Y/N both flushed and avoided each other’s gazes until they were on the jet.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this? I’m sure Hotch would understand if you’re not.” Spencer leaned over to ask softly once the briefing had ended and everyone settled in for the flight. Y/N looked from the window to him.

“No, yeah, yeah, I’m totally fine with it. I was just a little nervous because I haven’t gone undercover before, but how hard can it be, right?” She sent him a small smile and a shrug, hoping it would hide the nerves.

It turned out to be very hard.

Standing in front of a gross bathroom mirror in a police precinct, she analyzed herself in her fancy dress and elaborate makeup and some part of her found herself wishing it was real. All of it. She wondered what it would be like to actually go on a romantic date with Spencer. If she was being honest, it wasn’t her first time wondering that. Not long after she’d joined the team, she found herself growing more and more attracted to a certain endearing genius. At first it started as a normal friendship, but then he got too sweet, too good to be true. She found herself living in daydreams with him too often. Those daydreams never quite disappeared, they just seemed to permeate other aspects of her life.

Love made you stupid, she was aware. There was not a single moment that passed by that she wasn’t thinking of Spencer. She couldn’t help it, she was like a moth drawn to a flame. Except the flame was Spencer, and she’d never wanted to be burned so badly before. But she’d learned to suppress her feelings. They were coworkers and close friends after all. A romantic involvement could ruin both those relationships if it ended badly.

But now her team was depending on her to act extremely in love with Spencer and she wasn’t sure she could do it without actually raising suspicion to the fact that it was real the entire time. So it’s safe to say she was panicking a little.

“Y/N? We’re ready, you feeling okay?” Emily stuck her head in through the door to ask.

“Huh? Oh yeah, totally ready. I’ll be right out.” Y/N checked her makeup, made sure her earpiece was well hidden, and adjusted her fancy dress to hide her firearm one last time before stepping out. Across the room, Derek immediately finished up his conversation with one of the local officers just to walk over and provide her with a whistle of approval.

“Damn, Y/L/N! Looking good!” Derek outwardly announced, making her cheeks redden immediately.

“Oh shut up, Morgan, I’m still armed.” Y/N snapped back, although he was unable to take her seriously with her flushed features. He sent her a signature dazzling smile and she found it hard to keep one off her own face. 

She turned a little to see Spencer staring at her with wonder. He was dressed in a black three-piece velvet suit with a bowtie. He looked simply exquisite. They both smiled wide as they neared each other, Spencer extending his hand to her in the most gentlemanly of ways. She let her hand slip into his, somewhat glad for the support he gave her because of her high heels while simultaneously getting butterflies at the slight touch of his hand.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Spencer smiled and spoke quietly to her, proud that he wasn’t a stuttering mess just yet.

“And you look...expensive.” She let her eyes roam over his outfit before letting out a harmonious laugh. Spencer couldn’t help but grin in response as he adjusted his waistcoat with his free hand. They’d decided that Y/N would be the one carrying a firearm instead of Reid because her dress hid it better than his suit could have.

“Alright, kids, settle down. Now, let’s go over the plan. You’re going to go into the restaurant, sit at a table where you can be sure our unsub, George Mendoza, has a perfect view of you. You’ll have to make it super believable, he has to believe you guys are head over heels for each other.” 

Shouldn’t be hard, they both thought, sharing a glance even though they didn’t mean to. 

Morgan was really selling this. Y/N wondered if he knew…

But then again, if Garcia knew, Morgan knew. She also may have been forgetting that she was on the A team of profilers and just maybe the heart eyes she often gave Spencer gave her away already.

“Now, we know he corners his victims in the parking lot. We have to make sure he follows you out. Prentiss and Morgan will be by the door to follow you two out and hopefully ambush Mendoza.” Hotch explained and the two of them nodded.

“Got it.” She said, already shifting her weight from one foot to the other, the heels making her feet ache. Spencer noticed and dropped her hand, only to wrap his arm around her waist in hopes of steadying her and giving her the extra support she needed. JJ and Emily shared a knowing glance as they watched the subtle interaction between the two lovebirds. Y/N smiled to herself but avoided looking at him in order to keep the redness of her face at a minimum. 

Spencer led her to the black SUV parked outside and they both hopped into the backseat, with Morgan and Emily in the front.

 “Ready?” She asked, looking over to see a nervous-looking Spencer beside her as the car came to a halt in front of the restaurant.

He took a deep breath and nodded, “Ready.” He got out of the car and jogged around it to open her car door. She mirrored his actions and took a deep breath as well before plastering a huge smile across her features as she stepped out of the car. Morgan and Emily drove off to keep from blowing their cover. She and Spencer walked towards the greeter behind the podium, her arm tightly wound around his.

“Reservation for Dr. Reid.” Spencer spoke confidently. Y/N had to keep from biting her lip at how much she loved the sound of that. 

The greeter smiled, “Right this way.” he led them to a table and Y/N was in Mendoza’s direct line of sight.

“I’ve got eyes on Mendoza. He’s sitting with a woman and two bodyguards are guarding his table.” She spoke with a smile to Spencer and also to the team through her earpiece.

“I’ve got him.” Morgan confirmed from wherever he was, apparently he could see inside the restaurant.

Spencer turned to look ever so discreetly and pretended to be looking for the waiter. He noticed Mendoza ogling Y/N and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Do you wanna switch seats with me?” Spencer asked, visibly uncomfortable.

“What, why? Are you okay?” She replied.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m...fine, I just thought you might be more,” he cleared his throat, “comfortable if he wasn’t looking at you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest for a moment before glancing over to Mendoza, “Well, I’m fine, besides I think it’s better this way..that I’ve caught his eye.” She said with a slight roll of her eyes, making Spencer break into a grin.

“Don’t switch seats, that’ll look suspicious.” Emily spoke into their ears, “Now, don’t be so stiff. Relax, order some food or some drinks, whatever.”

“Alright, alright...relaxing.” She spoke mostly to herself and looked up at Spencer. Somehow looking at him made her feel at ease. His soft brown eyes brought her the reassurance she needed. Her gaze was intoxicating and Spencer could feel his hands starting to sweat as he wiped them on his pants. 

 “So this place is really, really fancy.” She said as she looked over the menu, which she could barely understand, “Wonder why he likes it.”

“He has an intense fixation on rich couples. Perhaps he sees his parents in the couples he chooses.” Spencer said, looking over the menu as well.

“Stop talking about the case!” Morgan’s voice boomed into their ears.

“Right, right! Sorry!” She whispered, “Okay, okay. Spence, tell me about these dishes, I have no idea what to order.”

“Um, okay. Well, I think you’d really enjoy the gnocchi in roasted red pepper sauce, Rossi’d made the same sauce and you’d really enjoyed it then when it was paired with pasta. Also the flavor of gnocchi is pretty neutral so it pairs really well with pungent sauces. Did you know that gnocchi originated in Northern Italy because the climate was better suited for growing potatoes rather than grain?” he continued to speak about gnocchi and all the different sauces one could eat it with.

Morgan had every intention to interrupt Spencer’s ramble but then Emily noticed the heart eyes Y/N was giving him, “Wait, no stop. Look at her, she’s into it.” Morgan chuckled and shook his head at the couple.

“Sorry...you should have stopped me.” Spencer ended his spiel, shyly taking a sip from his glass of water.

“Stop you? Why would I ever do that, you know I love your little tangents. Being with you makes me feel smart, actually. Except when you go on about quantum physics, I cannot keep up with that no matter how hard I try, I’m sorry.” She laughed and Spencer felt his confidence returning, “I can’t believe you made gnocchi sound so good. Now, I have to try it!” She grinned at him and Spencer swore he saw her eyes twinkle.

“What will you get?” She smiled at him, playing with her earring, a nervous tick of hers. Was she really that nervous? Why did she look so good doing it?

“Spence?” She noticed him zoning out slightly but he zoned back in.

“Huh? Oh, sorry um, I was a little distracted.” He blushed a little.

“Oh, by what?” She glanced over her shoulder to see if there was anything distracting behind her.

“Nothing, you just look very pretty.” Spencer complimented and she could not control the intense rush of blood that raced to her face. 

Morgan and Emily both drew in breaths through their teeth, “Daaaaamn, pretty boy’s got moves.” Derek whispered to Emily, their mics off.

Y/N giggled bashfully and looked down at her menu, shaking her head. This is all an act, Y/N. Get it together! Spencer reveled in her flushed cheeks for a moment before glancing down at his menu again, “I’ll probably just get the steak.”

For the next hour, they both made small talk with more encouragement from Emily and Derek. When the food came, she leaned closer to him and he fed her a piece of his steak, completely overlooking the fact that he’d just shared his fork with someone else. The sight of the two of them acting so hopelessly lovesick nearly made Emily and Derek sick themselves. During dinner, Spencer had migrated closer to her and they could barely keep their hands off of each other without any prompting from their earpieces. Y/N now had one hand on Spencer’s thigh and the other was intertwined with his as he draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer ever so slightly. 

Hey, he was probably never going to get to do this again, might as well enjoy it.

They giggled together over stories of their pasts, “I’m serious, my leg was on fire and Morgan had to put me out!”

“Oh come on, you expect me to believe that?” She laughed, her head leaning onto his shoulder.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, laughing. In the midst of her laughter, Spencer felt the overwhelming need to press a kiss to her wonderfully flushed cheek, so he did. He placed a soft kiss to the side of her cheek and made sure to linger enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. The feel of his lips on her cheeks almost sent her in a spiral but she refused to meet his eyes, knowing that her eyes would most definitely give her away. Give away the longing and yearning she felt. She almost didn’t want to catch Mendoza because she knew that meant she’d have to give this up.

“Okay, lovebirds, Mendoza is losing interest. You have to up the ante somehow.” Derek spoke into their earpieces. Y/N was a little confused as to what more they could do to get his attention back to them, but she could practically hear the gears turning in Spencer’s head. She suddenly felt him separate himself from her and get up to walk around their table to be on her other side.

“What is he doing!” Emily whispered to Derek and he shrugged.

“Spence, what are you doing?” Y/N asked as he stood before her, offering his hand just like earlier in the evening.

“Y/N, do you trust me?” Spencer whispered as she put her hand in his. She felt him tug on it for her to stand with him and she finally nodded.

“Of course I do.” She whispered back, glancing around at people’s gazes who were now stuck on them.

“Then just go with it.” He smiled mischievously as he knelt down onto one of his knees. Y/N immediately caught herself hoping that it wasn’t the knee he injured before she realized what was happening. Her hands flew to her mouth in genuine shock. He was proposing, well, not actually proposing, but still! In his hand, Spencer held the ring she usually wore on her pointer finger, he must have taken it off without her noticing.

“Y/N, I have never doubted for a second that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. From the moment I met you, you consumed every piece of my mind, body, and soul. And at first I was afraid at how willingly I’d give it to you, but then I realized that there is not another person on this planet that I’d rather have my soul. You are the light of my life, Y/N. When I wake up in the morning, you’re the first person I think of and when I fall asleep, my thoughts are only occupied by you. There are around 170,000 words in the English language, and no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to express to you just how much I love you. Y/N, will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?” Spencer stared up at her, hoping the weight of his words would somehow reach her through the guise of the assignment.

Y/N stood there, tears gathering in her eyes from the sheer overwhelming-ness of it all. Never had she imagined (because she has imagined it, if we’re being honest) that the day Spencer Reid would propose to her, it would be fake. The tears slipped out, she felt like sobbing at the artificiality of it all. Luckily those tears were in her favor to sway external witnesses. She suddenly remembered that he’d asked her a question.

“Yes! Yes, a million times yes!” A heavy sob escaped her and Spencer quickly slipped the ring onto her finger. Spectators clapped wildly and cheered for them. That definitely caught Mendoza’s attention. 

She threw her arms around his neck while he hugged her waist to lift her off the ground slightly. Spencer momentarily allowed himself to believe that this was real. In a moment of giddiness, he set her down again on the floor and pulled her in for a celebratory kiss by her waist. It took her a moment to realize what was happening, but soon reciprocated the tender kiss. Although it was short, it was unlike any other kiss she’d had. They pulled away from each other when the clapping and commotion had died down. Spencer had smiled graciously at people who were congratulating them, while she was still completely dazed from the kiss. They both went back to their respective seats, Spencer now back across from her rather than beside her.

Emily had lowkey been hitting Derek’s arm as they kissed, a moment she and JJ were surely going to tease Y/N to the ends of the Earth about.

Y/N had just barely composed herself enough to wipe the remnants of tears from her cheeks which resulted in a low whisper coming from Spencer, “Are you alright?” She nodded and flashed him a smile, one that told him just how not fine she was, but Spencer decided to let it go for a moment. He hoped he hadn’t crossed the line with the kiss.

“Good job, kids. You are definitely back on Mendoza’s radar.” Morgan spoke into both their earpieces.

They waited another 10 minutes before making their exit, their meal already paid for. Spencer had his arm tight around her shoulders as they walked out of the restaurant and pretended to wait for the valet. Derek and Emily still had eyes on Mendoza inside, who waited exactly one minute before he and his bodyguards were on the move.

“Mendoza’s on the move. Y/L/N and Reid, get ready for the signal.” Emily spoke, still in their hiding position.

Y/N took her gun out of her thigh holster and kept it out of view. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as Mendoza approached them from behind.

“Congratulations to the lovely young couple. Can I just say how well you two suit each other?” Mendoza’s slimy voice began and it made their skin crawl.

“Now!” Emily spoke and both she and Morgan emerged with their firearms raised at the three men.

Y/N swiveled around and aimed her gun at him, “FBI, hands up, now!” She yelled and Mendoza’s men came forward to attack the two of them when they all heard the clicks of Emily and Derek’s guns from behind them.

“Uh-uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Derek taunted. Mendoza visibly deflated and Spencer was quick to cuff him and read him his rights.

“George Mendoza, you are under arrest for the murder of 14 people…” Spencer went on as Emily and Derek cuffed the other two men. Y/N took a deep breath as she watched her teammates stuff them into police cars. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Hotch.

“Nice work, Y/L/N.” He gave her an approving nod and led her back to one of the SUVs. She immediately relaxed back into the seat and took off her heels.

On the jet back to Quantico, Y/N was teased quietly by Emily and JJ but they could tell that something was off about her. She wasn’t as bright as she usually was. Her eyes didn’t shine with the triumph that came with solving another case. Instead she was reserved and proceeded to retreat into herself when the teasing had stopped.

Oh how she wished it was real. She found herself keeping the ring on her ring finger rather than returning it to its rightful place on her pointer finger. She wanted to live in the daydream for as long as she could. Spencer’s words swirled around in her head with no shame or trepidation. She didn’t have an eidetic memory, but she would remember those words forever. Hearing them over and over seemed to have cracked and broken her heart and she was frantically trying to piece it back together. On the far side of the jet, Spencer was in a pool of regret. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he knew it’d make her uncomfortable. She has barely spoken to him since they closed the case and it didn’t seem like she would be talking any time soon. 

Hotch had given them two days off to cool off from the case and get some much needed sleep. Y/N thought that spending time away from Spencer would somehow heal the cracks in her heart, but they only seemed to make it worse. She knows she shouldn’t have cried into that tub of ice cream, but she couldn’t help it. She thought back to her friend who’d just gotten engaged the previous month and while she was never the jealous type, she found that feelings of envy were inevitable. She wondered if Spencer had meant anything he’d said. What did it mean if he did? No, no, she wasn’t even going to entertain the thought that he might feel anything for her. That would only lead to false hope and possibly deeper heartbreak.

But…

The way he’d looked at her when he said he loved her. That couldn’t be faked, right? She was a profiler for goodness’s sake, she should have been able to tell, but it was abundantly clear that her feelings for Spencer got in the way of her profiling skills.

Going back to work was relatively easy, except for the fact that she couldn’t look Spencer in the eye without hearing the words he’d said to her. It was ridiculous of her to even consider the fact that he might have not been just acting. She’d spoken barely two words to him and Spencer was itching all day to speak with her, but he just couldn’t. They were both avoiding each other for the wrong reasons. Unfortunately, their coworkers noticed the obvious shift in behavior. It was so unlike the two to be so awkward around each other. JJ had even caught Spencer doing a 180 and returning to his desk as soon as he saw Y/N at the coffee machine.

Something must be done.

They’d all decided to leave quietly 15 minutes early, minus Hotch and Rossi who were already cooped up in their offices. They hoped the empty bullpen could give them the privacy they needed to talk about whatever they needed to.

“Hey, Em, could you look at this for me? I think--” Y/N trailed off as she glanced up from her paperwork to see an almost completely empty bullpen, “Oh, where did everybody go?” she asked herself and technically Spencer, who also seemed to be totally engrossed in his work.

“Hm, I think everyone left already.” Spencer stood from his desk, bones cracking as he did so.

“That’s weird…” she shrugged and tried to get back to work.

“Um, so what did you need Emily for? I could take a look at it if you want.” Spencer offered, walking over to her desk and leaning on the side of it.

“Uh..y-yeah, sure.” She stammered as she looked for the file she just set down, having him in close proximity was making her mind go numb for a second, “Here, um...I think it was filed in the wrong folder. I’ll just--uh..give it to JJ tomorrow or something.” She swallowed, avoiding his eyes as she showed it to him. 

“Hold on a second, I think...this...goes in here with this case…” he trailed off as he grabbed a folder from his own desk.

“Huh, someone must have accidentally placed it on my desk instead of yours.” She nodded.

“It was probably Anderson.” They both said at the same time, making them both laugh.

 It felt right to laugh with him again. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat when she finally looked up and grinned at him. He felt like the air was somehow restored to his lungs. He watched as she shyly looked back down and tucked some hair behind her ear. He cleared his throat and fumbled with the file in his hand.

“Hey, I--uh...never got the chance to apologize...for uhm, how things went when we were, y’know undercover.” 

Wow, real smooth Spence. Great job.

He watched as her brows furrowed together, eyes lifting to meet his, “What do you mean?” 

“I...shouldn’t have...kissed you, I’m sorry. I just thought...I don’t know, it seemed like most couples usually kiss after proposals and I thought if we didn’t kiss it would have looked weird. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Y/N.” He apologized and Y/N’s heart might have definitely exploded in her chest. Here was this sweet, sweet man who was apologizing because he felt like he made her uncomfortable, as if that’s the reason she’d been acting weird.

“No, it didn’t make me uncomfortable at all!” She laughed it off, shaking her head. My God, Spencer Reid, there really is no one else like you. 

He fought off a relieved smile, “Oh, it didn’t?” She shook her head, laughing wholeheartedly now.

“No, on the contrary, I quite liked it, Dr. Reid.” She rolled her eyes, still giggling.

“Why have you been avoiding me and acting all awkward then?” He laughed with her.

“God, Spencer, did you really think I was being awkward because you kissed me?” She spoke, her arms lifting up and coming back down in disbelief.

“Yes!” he nodded, crossing his arms and shifting as he leaned on her desk, “I thought I’d made you uncomfortable…”

“No...Spencer, that’s not it at all…” She smiled softly but it began to fade as she stared at him.

There are around 170,000 words in the English language, and no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to express to you just how much I love you.

“Then what is it, Y/N? What’s going on?” He pursed his lips, wanting to absorb any and all the pain she’d ever felt in her life.

She had to know.

“The things you said...while you were uhm...proposing. Did--did you mean any of them?” She looked up at him with the largest doe eyes he’d ever seen. Her eyes began to shine with tears as her shoulders tensed with anticipation.

He shifted again uncomfortably at the question and her unfaltering gaze, “I--uh, I did, actually.” The heat rushed to his face and ears, “I definitely did mean them, Y/N. Does--does that make you feel weird?”

“No, no, not in the slightest,” her face broke out into another grin, this one with hints of relief, as she stood up from her desk chair to be at eye-level with him, “actually, if I’m being honest, I wanted you to mean them.”

Spencer smiled as he uncrossed his arms, “Is that right?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, placing both her hands on the sides of his neck, his hands now resting comfortably on her waist. She watched as his gaze never left her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes briefly flickered upwards to hers for permission.

“Please do.” She smiled before he connected their lips.

It felt right this time. She knew it did because she could finally savor the feeling of her stomach doing somersaults. She knew because she could finally know the feeling of his large hands roaming the expanse of her back in efforts to pull her closer. She knew because she could finally feel the incredibly soft tufts of hair at the base of his neck as she weaved her fingers through them.

In the distance, Hotch and Rossi simultaneously checked the bullpen through the blinds of their offices at the suspicious silence. Both of them shook their heads and laughed at the blooming of young love.

[flowercrown-bard]

Promp idea: Jaskier finds a new born Griffin and Griffin thinks Jaskier is the mom. It starts to follow him. Like how hard it can be being a mother of a cute but deadly baby.

hello my dear <3 Ahh I am so so sorry it took me forever to get to this prompt! But better late than never, right? *laughs nervously*

word count: 1877

warnings: none

pairing: Geraskier, pre-relationship

AO3

---

Geralt spent more time than necessary brushing down Roach. If anyone had asked for the reason, he would have told a lie, or more likely just grunted noncommittally. Anything but tell the truth, which was that facing Roach allowed him to smile like an idiot without Jaskier seeing it. If the bard were to see that his ramblings made Geralt drop his mask of gruffness, Geralt would never hear the end of it.

“- really is heart-warming how much you care about Roach,” Jaskier said from where he said on the forest floor, something he would never have done when they had first met – or at least, he wouldn’t have done so without complaining about getting dirt on his breeches. “There’s nothing more charming than a man who takes care of animals, wouldn’t you agree?”

Geralt’s hand accidentally brushed against the braids Jaskier had plaited into Roach’s mane, while Geralt had been away on a hunt this morning. He faltered, but then he gripped the brush tighter, doing his best to pretend he hadn’t reacted to Jaskier’s words at all, when really, he couldn’t help but think that Jaskier was right.

Each winter, when Eskel brought Lil’ Bleater inside the keep to make sure she wouldn’t be cold, Geralt would feel a new wave of affection for his brother. When he saw a pompous lord drop all decorum and posture to bend down to pet a cat, Geralt would feel an unreasonable sort of respect for the otherwise stuffy and unlikable noble.

And when Jaskier snuck Roach treats when he thought Geralt wasn’t looking, he – well. He was glad that his travel companion was someone who got along with Roach. Her liking him was the main reason why Geralt had let Jaskier travel with them. He couldn’t break Roach’s heart by making her leave one of the few friends she made on the Path. Empathy for Roach - that was all he felt as he thought of her and Jaskier together. Definitely.

“Say, Geralt, how would you feel about getting another pet? Hypothetically speaking.”

Geralt huffed, his lips twitching up.

“I have already enough work feeding and cleaning up after you, songbird.”

“Excuse me?” Geralt didn’t need to see Jaskier’s face to know his mouth was opened with indignation. “Well – I have enough work washing and brushing your hair. Between the two of us, you’re the one who gets muck everywhere, wolf.” There was a brief pause. “But…that means you wouldn’t want another pet?”

Geralt’s shoulders sagged as he sighed and finally gave up on his pretence of brushing Roach. He turned, carelessly tossing the brush to the bags sitting on the ground next to Jaskier.

“Careful!” Jaskier squealed.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Calm down. I didn’t hit you, did I?”

“Well, no, but –“ A strange noise coming from bags made Jaskier stiffen, his eyes widening, before his smile turned painfully artificial. “As I was saying, it is very rude of you to just throw-“

“Quiet,” Geralt hissed, his eyes not leaving the bags.

Jaskier shifted his weight on the ground and it was obvious he was avoiding looking at the bags. “Now really, I know you just love complaining about my voice, but –“

“Jaskier.”

Geralt’s tone made Jaskier’s mouth snap shut.

For a moment, there was utter silence. Then the strange noise returned and the bags began to move.

With slow and silent steps, Geralt crept closer, praying that Jaskier wouldn’t panic and make any sudden movements that would startle whatever was lurking in their bags and make it attack the helpless bard.

With one hand, Geralt unsheathed his silver sword. The other hand he held up in a signal for Jaskier to remain calm.

Jaskier, of course took that as a sign to do the exact opposite. The spiking of his pulse and the sudden scent of nervousness hitting Geralt’s nose were the only warning Geralt got, before Jaskier jumped up. But the bard didn’t run away from the danger into the thicket or to hide behind Geralt. No. He stood in front of the bags, holding up his own hands defensively.

“Geralt, listen. I –“

“Get away from the bags,” Geralt growled, a sudden spike of fear piercing his chest at having Jaskier so close to that unknown thing.

Jaskier only shook his head, a look of determination crossing his face.

“No. This is what I wanted to talk to you about. I…uh… might have acquired a pet? While you were off fighting…that ugly thing with the deadly teeth that I wasn’t allowed to get close to.”

Geralt halted, blinking.

“A pet?” he replied incredulously, lowering his sword.

Jaskier swallowed thickly, his eyes darting to the side, revealing that he was about to lie, even before he opened his mouth.

“Yeah. It’s a cat.”

“A cat.” Geralt repeated deadpan.

Whatever Jaskier saw on his face, he must take it as Geralt believing him, for his own expression flooded with relief. “Yes! A cat.”

“And you kept it hidden from me because…?”

“Because cats don’t like witchers! Or witchers don’t like cats. I’m still not sure about that. But anyway, I thought that maybe, if I got Daisy used to your smell first and talked to you–“

Daisy chose that moment to tumble out of the pile of bags, knocking her small head against Jaskier’s shins in the process.

Geralt and Jaskier both stared dumbly down at her. For once, Geralt was the one who found his voice first.

“A cat, huh?”

“Yes?” A furious blush rose in Jaskier’s cheeks. “In my defence, when I found her I did actually think she was a cat.”

Geralt rubbed a hand over his face, while the griffin-baby that could in no way be mistaken for a cat, began climbing Jaskier’s leg until Jaskier took mercy on her and lifted her up in his arms. He groaned with the effort. The griffin was nearly big enough to obscure the sight of Jaskier’s face. Jaskier’s nose scrunched up adorably – no, there was nothing adorable about an idiot who was snuggling a griffin-baby! – when the griffin’s fur tickled his nose.

“What the fuck made you think that was a cat? Was it the beak?” Geralt lifted a brow, shooting a pointed look at the wiggling beast. “Or maybe the wings?”

Jaskier gave him a decidedly unimpressed look. “It was dark in that cave you left me in! Not all of us have witcher-eyes. And she was alone and happy to keep me company while you were gone on your hunt.”

“Yes,” Geralt said slowly, so that Jaskier couldn’t possibly miss the ‘I-think-you’re-an-idiot’-tone of his voice. “I go on hunts. Where I kill monsters like her.”

Jaskier squawked in outrage, pressing the griffin protectively against his chest. The griffin made a noise not dissimilar to the one Jaskier had just made, but after the shock of being nearly squashed receded, the griffin snuggled contently against Jaskier, chewing happily on the fabric of his doublet.

“She is not a monster! Daisy is a baby and an adorable little darling that would never do anything wrong ever!”

The sound of fabric tearing and a triumphant griffin-shriek disproved Jaskier’s words instantly.

Geralt groaned. He did that far more often since he had started travelling with Jaskier. Life had been so much easier when it had been just him and Roach. No bard who had made it his life’s mission to get in as much easily avoidable trouble as possible.

Life had also been much more boring and lonely without Jaskier. Still.

“She won’t stay a baby forever. Give it two months and she will do more than just tear holes into your clothes.”

Jaskier’s face lit up. “So I can keep her for another two months?”

“I – that’s not – “

“Besides, did you just imply that Daisy tearing holes into my clothes isn’t a bad thing?”

Geralt didn’t dignify that with a response, which Jaskier apparently took as a victory on his side, for he came closer to Geralt, holding Daisy out to him.

“Look at her, Geralt. Look into these eyes and tell me, she isn’t the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Geralt didn’t need to look at her to know that that was objectively untrue. It couldn’t be true, not while Jaskier was standing right in front of him. Still, he indulged Jaskier and reluctantly stared into the little monster’s eyes, glaring at her in the most intimidating way he could. His own eyes reflected back to him from the dark griffin eyes.

An excited noise that almost sounded like purring left the griffin and with her beak, she snapped at Geralt’s hair that had fallen into his face when he had bent down to look at her.

“She likes you!” Jaskier cooed, while Geralt quickly straightened his back and put some distance between his hair and the beak and claws of the griffin. Still, she tried to snatch the strands, not unlike a cat would. Alright, so maybe Jaskier had had a point with that comparison.

That didn’t change the fact that the bard was holding a damn griffin in his arms.

“She’s already practicing hunting,” Geralt said.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “She’s only playing. Tiny adorable griffins are allowed to play, aren’t they?”

“She won’t stay tiny! Don’t you listen to anything I told you about monsters?”

“Of course I do.” Jaskier lifted his chin in a challenge. “Which is why I know for a fact that we have to keep Daisy.” The narrowing of Jaskier’s eyes stood in stark contrast to the gentleness with which he stroked the griffin’s feathers and fur. “Griffins are reliant on their parents’ care until they learn how to fly. And!” Jaskier added, before Geralt could so much as open his mouth to protest, “You can’t leave me to take care of her on my own, because I also know that griffins mate for life and a griffin baby needs both parents to survive.”

A triumphant grin spread across Jaskier’s lips.

Geralt’s brows drew together. “I am not letting you rope me into becoming that griffin’s parent.”

Jaskier huffed. “Oh please, don’t be silly. Of course you’re not her second parent.”

Small mercies. Geralt was already about to release a sigh of relief, when Jaskier added, “That position’s already filled. Her other parent is Roach.”

And Roach, the traitor, took that as her cue to trod over to them and nose at the little creature in Jaskier’s arms that returned the mare’s greeting.

Geralt stared incredulously at the bard and Jaskier…Jaskier’s eyes softened as he watched that display. His fingers buried into the soft fur of the griffin and he pressed his cheek against the griffin’s head, nuzzling into her. He looked…happy.

Something twisted inside Geralt’s chest. He looked at Roach – a last hope of getting the moral support he needed to keep him from making a very very stupid decision.

But Roach payed him no attention. She huffed some warm breath into the griffin’s face, before nibbling on Jaskier’s already ruined doublet affectionately.

Just like that, Geralt’s fate was sealed. After all, Roach seemed to like Daisy and he couldn’t break her heart.

And…well, Jaskier had been right. There were few things more attractive than a man who liked animals.

[spideymarvelws]

 had so much fun writing the first scene dude... i feel like as a fanfic writer its a sin i haven’t written anything like it yet lmfaoo (to be fair i probably have but I just dont rem💀) anyways i hope you enjoy!

REPOST BECAUSE OF TAGS!!!

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist / Prompt List

Prompt : 9. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Warnings : just some cute floof, some cursing here and there

Word Count : 2.2k

Hesitation

Technoblade x GN!Reader

It was always peaceful in the tundra right before the sun set. Not only did the orange and red colours that reflected off the shiny snow send a wave of tranquility through the lands. It was a specific time where all the animals would go back into their homes before the mobs spawned at night fall, leaving the lands in complete silence.

Phil loved working at this time, getting small tasks done around the house that he wasn’t able to do throughout the day. Whether it was washing the dishes or dusting out the book shelves. Maybe even lounged around near the fireplace, planning out what he had to do the next day. It was always quiet, void of distractions to keep him from doing them.

But of course, with peace always came chaos.

“YOU CHEATED!”

“NO I DIDN’T!”

“YES YOU DID!”

The door cracked open, slamming against the wall behind it making the blonde jump from the sudden noise. He was ready to pick up his sword by his side until he recognised the voices of his house mates, shouting like little children.

Phil sighed, continuing to wash the dishes in front of him. While the bickering tended to amuse him at times, right then he just wanted to stay in the silence. He was quick to grab a pear of earplugs from his chest, pushing them snugly into his ear, blocking out the noise you both brought into the house while humming a small tune.

“There’s no way that your horse is faster that Carl! That’s just not possible!” Techno shook his head, his entire body still except for his left foot tapping consistently on the floor, “It’s just not possible.”

“Okay-” you pointed your finger in his face, “First off, her name is Raven and secondly, you just can’t admit that she’s better than Carl.” you crossed your arms on your chest, looking up at the piglin with teasing eyes.

Tech threw his head back with a groan, turning around gruffly and taking off his cape along with the skull mask covering his face.

“I won’t admit it because it isn't true!” he turned back to face you, mimicking your stance and tilting his head slightly to the side.

You raised your eyebrows at his response, nodding slowly, “Alright, alright,” you slowly took of your cloak, bunching it up and throwing it at him, his reflexes catching it before the fabric hit his chest, “Maybe it’s just the ridder and not the horse.”

Techno gasped, “You take that back.” he threw your cloak to the side.

You hummed, looking up and faking a thinking face, “Nah... I don’t think I will, I said what I said.” you stepped closer to the hybrid, sizing up his figure, “And what are you going to do about it?”

Techno squinted his eyes, a small smirk making its way to his face before he grabbed you by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder and walking away from the entrance into the living room.

“Hey!” You pounded at his back, wiggling in his tight grip, “Put me down you loaf!”

He laughed at your words but obliged, throwing you on the couch near the fireplace. Before you could sit up, he crawled over your form, knee besides one side of your waist with his other foot planted on the floor, keeping him steady hovering over you.

“Techno-” you chuckled nervously, trying your best not to stray away from his intense gaze, fighting the heat starting to rise to your face. Your hands pushed at his chest, weakening when he brought his face closer to yours, making you feel smaller than you already were.

He didn’t say anything, instead his fingers dug into your stomach, wiggling them across the fabric of your shirt. Your laugher filled the air, high pitched and bouncing off the walls of the cottage. You tried your best to control them, not wanting to give in to the blood god’s actions so quickly. But your hands on your stomach did nothing to stop his.

“Oh. My. God! Techno! Stop you fucking- oh god!”

“Take it back Y/n!” he laughed along with you, continuing his assault on your stomach, “Take it back or I swear to god you’re going to loose a canon life from being too ticklish.”

“NEVER!” you shouted between laugher, screaming when his hands began to move faster, knocking the breath out of your lungs. In the heat of the moment, he took your wrists into his fist, pinning them above your head, keeping your hands from interfering with his plans.

“Say. It.” even with one hand we was doing enough to keep you squirming underneath him, desperate for an escape.

“Okay! Okay! You- You’re a good rider Techno! You’re a good rider!” you finally admitted, your body falling limp against the cushions when he finally raised his fingers from your stomach.

Techno laughed at your state, leaning back with a cocky smirk on his face, “Glad to know we could come to an agreement,”

“I hate you,” you mumbled, your head rolling to the side on your shoulder as you caught your breath. You closed eyes in relief that the past few minutes were over, nearly falling asleep with the amount of energy you spent laughing.

Techno chuckled, taking your chin into his fingers, turning your head to look back at him, “Is that so?”

You nodded, fluttering your eyes open to look up at the pink haired man. Your breath hitched when you noticed how close his face was to yours. His entire presence felt suddenly close, his chest puffed out with long breaths, his legs practically tangled with yours, his face hovering over you, radiating heat you didn’t notice while he was tickling you. You watched as his face lit up red, his piglin ears straightening out of the side of his head, probably taking in the proximity as well.

Techno wasn’t one to get flustered often, but when he did it was always with the people he cared about. He trusted them enough to let that blood god persona he put on fade away leaving behind his shy, nerdy side you always adored. The side of techno who would read by the fireplace with Steve sat snuggly in his lap, the Techno who would spend hours trying to fix his glasses that broke constantly in his strong grip only having to craft a new one. The Techno who would grumble about compliments from you and Phil but the subtle spread of pink across his face told everyone otherwise. The Techno you grew to love the more and more he let you it.

He began to get a lot more playful with you as you friendship grew. When you moved in with him out in the snow it only increased drastically. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the both of you to end up in this position or something similar to it (like the time he pinned you down during training), but he would always stop before things got too intimate and while it hurt, you’ve grown to accept it. You were glad to be his friend, his companion. You would take his friendship over not knowing him at all any time of the day.

You waited for him to pull back. To stand up and dust off his clothes, offering you his hand to pull you up with him and continue that night like normal. But he stayed, his dark, dull eyes staying down at you with a shine you’ve never seen up close before.

Techno didn’t know what to do either. He didn’t know what was prompted him to stay in this position, the sudden confidence that pushed him to keep his hand on your face, his lips so close to yours.  Maybe it was the voices in his head, annoyed with the constant stares and thoughts of adoration when you rode Raven around in the snow, your cape flowing beautifully behind you, face showing nothing but pure joy. They were relentless, calling him out on every emotion he was feeling because of you.

He wanted to move for your sake, he was the one on top of you in the first place, pinning you down. You were probably being polite not shoving him off of you, even if you’ve never done it before, he just always pulled away before you could. But he couldn’t, his muscles stiff and unable to move.

A small part of his brain told him you wanted this too, but he ignored it for his own sanity.

“Techno-” you whispered but before you could continue, the hybrid immediately took the single word as a protest, finally letting go of your hands but keeping his body close.

“Shit I’m sorry that- that was probably a bit much.”

You giggled softly, “No- uh, it was fine tech, no worries,”

He looked down at your bright smile glowing in his face.

“You’re really beautiful Y/n,” he whispered, letting the rough pads of his fingers trail down the side of your face, blushing when you nudged them with your cheek, accepting the comfort.

“You think so?” you whispered back, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“I-” he started, his breath hot against the tip of your nose as he glanced down to your lips, quickly looking back into your eyes. Why weren’t you moving? Why weren’t you cringing, laughing at the thought of ever kissing him?

“You- Do you want this.” you whispered, letting his thumb pull down at your bottom lip, watching as the plush skin softly bounced back.

He nodded, shivering when you tangled your fingers into his pick curls, pulling his face down and nudging your nose against his. He closed his eyes, a small, cute snort coming from the back of his throat at the affection.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“FUCK!”

You jumped at the sudden curse, Techno falling off of you and on to the floor besides the couch. Before you could process what just happened, the curse sounded again followed by a crash, both of your senses on high alert when you realised it was Phil’s voice coming from the kitchen. You rushed to grab your weapons from nearby, quickly pulling yourself together on the fact that your friend was in trouble.

You both ran as fast as you could, Techno in front of you with his sword drawn while you were behind loading your cross bow with an arrow. He barged into the kitchen, holding his blade in the air, ready to attack but all he was met with was a pair of wings slapping him in the face.

You dove under the large feathers, bumping the winged man to alert him of your presence.

“Oh... hey guys!” He smiled, taking out something from his ears and resting them on the kitchen counter. He sent a pointed look to the weapons in your hands, crossing his arms over his chest in confusion, “Why the weapons?”

“Are you alright?” Techno said, rubbing his nose from the hit.

“We heard you scream, thought you were in trouble.”

Phil chuckled nervously, “Sorry, my bad,” he turned around to face the both of you, “I just dropped a plate.”

You and Techno let out an audible sigh, dropping your weapons to the floor with a clank. You didn’t know how many times your heart could deal with the sudden bursts of adrenaline. Walking up to Techno, you took his hand away from his face, inspecting the soft red mark across his face from the whip of feathers. No matter how small the attack, you always made sure to check up on him, even when he didn’t need it.

But with your delicate touch came memories of the events that just happened

“Were- were you here the entire time?” Techno said hesitantly, looking up at his father with worried eyes. You took in his words, immediately pulling away from the hybrid, ignoring his small noise of protest.

“Yes, but i put in some ear plugs,” he pointed to them on the counter.

“Oh!” you piped in, “That’s- That’s good.”

“Was there something I missed?” he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the both of you curiously.

“Nothing!” You both shouted at the same time, chuckling nervously.

“Okay?” Phil dragged out, pointing back to the sink, “Well, I’ll just-”

“Yeah! You- uh, get to that phil,” you began walking backwards, bounced into the edge of the counter. You played off the pain with a quick thumbs up and walking quickly out of the kitchen, mumbling curses under your breath.

“Are they alright mate?” Phil asked his son who seemed to be lost in his own world, staring at the spot you were once in, “Techno?”

“I- what?” He shook his head, “Uh, yeah- they’re,” he let out a small sigh, letting  his hand pass over his face, “Yeah, they’re fine.”

“Are you alright?”

Techno didn’t respond for a while, stuck in his own thought. Phil turned to his son, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Tech?”

“I think-” He let out a shaky breath, “I think I love them.”

...

IM SORRY FOR ENDING IT SO SUDDENLY

it was just getting to long and i didn’t want to loose motivation writing more😭

Permanent Taglist (Dream SMP) : @ossinsworld @lunarinnit @starstruckllamapuppy @shio-yuki @lovelychasbug @alice-blue-skies @chaosofsmarty @imamybubbles

Technoblade Taglist : @hyumiid @whenpugzfly @sammyxn @jackalopedoodles @notmesimpingfortechno @immadatmostthings

Crossed out mean couldn't tag :(

[spacexcowgirl]

Don’t Go Wasting Your Emotion - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N enters a fwb relationship with Fred, only to realize she’s going to have a lot more trouble keeping things platonic than she thought.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Smut, Oral (male receiving), masturbation, light hair pulling, exhibitionism (sort of? I mean they do it in a public bathroom so yeah), unprotected sex, possessive talk, swearing, brief alcohol mention. pretty angsty throughout but it ends fluffy so.

A/N: I’m obsessed with the fwb trope and wanted to see if I could write a smut, so here we are. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, and let me know if I missed any warnings! Pictures are from Pinterest. (Also, I know this is a repost. Let’s see if the tags actually wanna work this time :) )

You watched as Fred’s grip on his glass tightened, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as his eyes remained trained on the dance floor. You couldn’t allow yourself to follow his gaze, because you knew what you would see, and you knew it would break your heart. Angelina was there, and she was dancing closely to some guy that wasn’t Fred. Judging by his change in demeanor, he wasn’t as over their breakup as he had claimed.

You hated seeing him like this, for reasons beyond the fact that you were his best friend. It was selfish, sure, but part of the reason why you were so bothered was because you knew he would never be so jealous over you. And that stung.

It had been three months since him and Angelina had split. In those three months, Fred had vehemently claimed that he was fine, that their breakup was mutual, and that he hardly even thought about her anymore. Now, judging by the way he hadn’t uttered more than two words since she waltzed in, you and George could confirm what you already knew; he was lying. When it came to their emotions, its what the Weasley boys did best. Conceal as long as possible, before ultimately blowing up. Evidently, that blow up was about to come tonight.

“Maybe we should just go?” You placed a delicate hand on Fred’s shoulder. The action tore his gaze from Angelina for just a moment, then his eyes were back on her.

“No, no. I’m fine.” He lied through gritted teeth. “We came out tonight to have fun, so, let’s have fun.”

With that, he downed the rest of the drink in his glass and took your hand, guiding you out on the dance floor. You glanced back, just momentarily, and caught George’s worried gaze. Fred most certainly was not fine, but you could also tell that George’s worry extended to you. He knew you were one longing glance away from falling point-of-no-return in love with his brother, and that scared him. Almost as much as it scared you.

Once you and Fred had infiltrated the crowd of people, his hands were on your hips, but he couldn’t meet your eyes. So, to save yourself just a little bit of heartache, you turned in his grasp so your bum was pressed to his front. In this position, you didn’t have to face him blatantly staring at another girl. You closed your eyes and moved your hips to the music, letting yourself just for a moment get lost in the feeling of his big hands guiding your hips. For a little while, you could shut out reality and simply pretend it was just the two of you, and that he wasn’t desperately wishing you were someone else.

The feeling of his warm breath against your neck shook you back to the present, causing you to instinctively crane your neck to give him further access. His lips ghosted a line there, sending goosebumps alive in their path. They traced their way up to your ear, giving a gentle nip to your lobe before he spoke.

“It’s working, she keeps looking over here.” He whispered in a low voice. 

You simply hummed in response, continuing the grinding of your bum against his hips. Truthfully, you didn’t care whether she was looking or not, but of course you couldn’t say that. So, silence sufficed.

This is what your relationship had morphed into in the months since his breakup. What had started as a completely innocent, and drunken, conversation between friends about how it should be criminal how long you had gone without getting laid, had somehow turned into this murky friends with benefits relationship you were now in. Neither of you tried to hide the fact that you would occasionally sleep together from George or other peers, which was why your current grinding appeared normal to him, but you both always made it clear you were still just friends.

So, when Fred had a long day at work, there you were, your mouth showing him in more ways than one how to relax. When George and him got into a fight, although it was rare, you were there as a thing for him to ruin, to take all of his frustrations out on. Basically just about any mood he could possibly be in, you were there to make it even better.

That’s not to say you got nothing out of the arrangement, though. Fred was there for you, too. After those awful long days that seemed never ending, when you were too in your head over an upcoming work project, when you just needed to relax a little. Fred Weasley could make you cum so hard you’d forget anything wrong in your life, including the extremely unfortunate feelings you harbored for him. Even if it was just momentarily.

Not to mention, if having Fred in your bed was the closest you’d get to truly being with him, then you’d take it. Because as you lay pinned beneath him, your name leaving his lips like a prayer, you could feel like the only girl in his world. And that feeling breathed life into you like nothing else could.

So, now, here you were, pressed up against the man who held the power to break your heart if he so chose, but who also had no idea. It seemed Fred truly thought what you had was just fun between friends. Another reason you couldn’t fault him.

“Oh, fuck.” Fred groaned worriedly into your neck before straightening up. His words and the sudden space he had now put between the two of you caused you to furrow your brows, until he spoke again. “She’s coming over.”

Fred and you had already been somewhat on the outskirts of the dance floor, which meant Angelina and the man she had entered with had to pass you to get to the bar. Of course, they wouldn’t just walk by without saying anything. Angelina had always been a sweetheart, and Fred and her had ended somewhat amicably, so it was no wonder she was now approaching with a bright smile on her face.

“Freddie! Y/N/N!” She quickly enveloped you in a hug, causing her familiar floral perfume to fill your nose. Godric, could she get any more perfect?

“I feel like it’s been ages.” Next she was hugging Fred, and although he was stiff, Angelina was nothing but friendly and carried on as if she didn’t even notice. When she pulled back, she gestured to the man who she had approached with. “This is Stephen. He’s my uh…” She seemed to falter for a moment, her eyes flicking guiltily to Fred before she continued. “My boyfriend.”

You didn’t have to look up at Fred to know his jaw was clenched, now for more reasons than one. Thinking back to when Fred and her were still together, you had heard him complain on more than one occasion about a ‘Stephen’ that she worked with. Even though she had told him that he was no one to worry about, perhaps Fred had a right to be so jealous.

There was a tense moment of silence, all four of you internally gauging the situation and where to take things from there. Angelina was the first to clear her throat and gesture between both you and Fred.

“So, uh, I hadn’t heard that you two were together.” Her eyes fell to yours, a genuine smile gracing her lips. “You know, I always thought you guys would make a cute couple. I mean, even before…” Her words trailed off, careful not to breach the subject of her failed relationship with Fred. 

To save her from an awkward ramble, you decided to speak up. A sheepish look crossed your features as you prepared yourself for the ever-uncomfortable ‘actually, we’re not together, we’re just screwing’ talk.

“Well, we’re not really—”

“Not really sure why we hadn’t gotten together sooner.” Fred cut you off, his arm snaking around your waist although his eyes never left Angelina’s.

Your eyes grew wide at his words, your heart speeding up. Of course, you knew what he was doing. He was Fred Weasley for Godric’s sake, and he’d rather be dead than admit to his happily-moved on ex-girlfriend that he was still alone. Still, the thought of truly being with him crossed your mind, like it did more often than you’d like to admit, and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy.” You could tell she meant it. With that, she let her hand drop and intertwine with Stephen’s before shooting the two of you one last smile and hauling him towards the bar.

Fred’s grip on your waist had grown even tighter and you found yourself wondering if he even realized it. His breath was ragged and shallow, and when you looked up at his face you found that his eyes were squeezed shut. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to discern if Fred needed his best friend or his fuck buddy right now. Ultimately, you decided he probably needed a little bit of both.

“Why don’t you stop torturing yourself and we finally get out of here?” You pleaded.

“I’ve got a better idea.”

And before you could ask what, exactly, that meant, he was firmly grasping your wrist and hauling you to the women’s bathroom. It wasn’t a very big room, and half of you wondered if the lock on the door even properly worked, based solely on how old it looked. You didn’t have a lot of time to worry, though, before Fred’s lips were pressed against yours and he was pushing you against the porcelain sink.

You moaned into his mouth at the desperation in his actions, your hands quickly finding the base of his neck and tangling in the hairs there. In an instant, he had you hoisted onto the cool white fixture and was stood between your legs, peppering wet, open mouthed kisses down your jaw. You threw your head back, arching your chest towards him, and let out a moan as he began to suck at the soft skin below your ear.

He had quickly taken things into his own hands, as he often did, but you knew that wasn’t exactly what he needed right now. You pulled your head away, halting the kisses he had been planting to your neck, and placed your hands on his shoulders. His brows were furrowed as he looked at you, but as you gently pushed him back and hopped down from the sink, only to sink to your knees, he couldn’t help but grin in anticipation.

You fiddled with his belt buckle, undoing it as quickly as you could before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper. You wasted no time teasing him, but rather pulled down his trousers and boxers in one go, suddenly eye level with his hard cock.

Your hand wrapped around his length, beginning to stroke him in the way that had grown so familiar to you. He tilted his head back and let out a groan at your slow pace, which only encouraged you further. The second that his eyes were back on you, you leaned in slightly and kitten licked the tip, maintaining the most innocent look you possibly could. Then, you opened your mouth and swallowed him down, keeping your hand on his base to work on the extra length you can’t fit. You felt Fred gather your hair into a ponytail, gently guiding your motions against him. He hardly had to do any work, you already knew how to please him so well.

“Fuck, yes,” Fred sighed, his eyes glued to the image of his cock disappearing between your lips. Knowing that he’s watching you, you gazed up at him through your lashes and hollowed out your cheeks, your hand twisting up and down as you sucked on his sensitive tip. “Play with yourself, princess. Get yourself ready for me.”

While in any other situation you may have shot a quip at him about being a lazy git, right now you knew that realistically you two simply didn’t have very much time. What you were doing was risky, and it was Fred who needed to relieve some tension, so you’d have to be resigned to doing all of the work. Besides, sucking Fred off while he looked at you like that and moaned so beautifully turned you on to no end, so you supposed you really shouldn’t be complaining.

Your free hand snaked down and dipped beneath the waist band of your leggings, quickly pushing aside your panties and beginning to dip into your wet folds. You let out a moan against Fred’s cock, the vibration causing him to groan lowly.

This only lasted about a minute, before the reality set in that you just were not a very good multitasker. It was nearly impossible for you to keep up with sucking and wanking him off while simultaneously focusing on your own pleasure. So you resigned to pulling your lips off completely and catching your breath, allowing one hand to continue working on your own pleasure while the other twisted up and down his cock, pausing every few moments to swipe your thumb over the sensitive head.

Fred’s hips bucked involuntarily in your grip from the contact. Then he was grasping your wrist and halting your actions, hoisting you up to a standing position by your elbow. He pulled you into one final, passionate kiss, before he was spinning you around and bending you over the sink. He folded himself over your body, intent on whispering into your ear.

“I want you loud,” He grumbled against your neck, placing a rough kiss there. One of his hands was now wrapped around you and kneading at your breast through your top, while the other had rested on your hip. “I want everyone in this whole bloody pub to hear you screaming my name.”

You knew what he really meant was he wanted Angelina to hear you screaming his name, but his hands were now yanking your leggings and panties down to your ankles, so your brain could hardly focus on anything else. You let out a breathy, quiet, moan as you felt him rub the head of his cock against your wet folds. His response was instantaneous as he pulled away from you completely, eyes narrowed.

“What did I say, princess?” His stroked himself lazily, pointedly busying himself with everything but touching you. 

“Please, Fred.” You simply whined. You always were slightly embarrassed by how desperate you were for him.

“I said,” He ignored your pleas, taking a step closer to you once again. “I want you loud. Honestly, if you can’t listen, you can just go back to having that pretty mouth of yours suck my cock, and you can worry about getting yourself off later.”

You let out a whimper at that, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You wouldn’t put it past him to tease you like that, so you knew you had to play your cards right to avoid it. 

“Think you can listen? Think you can be good?”

“Yes,” You breathed out, your hands gripping the side of the sink tightly. “I’ll be good.” 

That was all the confirmation he needed before pushing into you. A strangled moan tore itself from your lips, and you couldn’t help but shiver from the look Fred was giving you in the mirror. Once his hips were flush against your bum, he threw his head back and groaned.

“So fucking tight.” Fred gritted. “Always so tight… For me… All for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” You moaned out, your eyes flying shut as he began to set a steady pace. Seeing your eyes close caused him to tangled one of his hands in your hair and give it a gentle tug, pulling your head up and arching your back further. The new angle allowed for him to hit at a deeper spot inside of you, causing you both to moan out.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” He urged, the sound of his ragged pants mixing with the sound of his hips snapping against your bum. “Say my name, princess.”

The question caught you entirely off guard. Obviously, Fred and you always talked to each other quite differently during sex than during your everyday friendship. Still, this was uncharted territory. Because no part of you did belong to him, no matter how much you longed for it to be so. You couldn’t think on the meaning behind it for too long, though, because as he landed another harsh thrust into you, your mind was cleared of everything but your own pleasure.

“You, Freddie.” You moaned loudly. “All yours.”

“That’s right.” Fred slid the hand that had been resting on your hip around to find your clit, rubbing small circles against it in time with his thrusts. The hand that had been tangled in your hair grabbed your arm and pressed your palm flat against the mirror. He slotted his fingers against your, folding himself further over you as his thrusts began to grow sloppy. “Come on, I need you to cum for me, princess. Need you to say my name.” 

His words sent you over the edge, his name leaving your mouth in nearly incoherent babbles. He continued to lightly rub your clit, rocking you through your orgasm with a few light kisses to your neck, before he snapped his hips into yours one last time, burying himself fully before halting. He had finished inside you, leaving you now both panting as you came down from your highs.

Fred placed a soft kiss to your shoulder before dropping the hand he had pinning you to the mirror and slowly pulled himself out. You whined at the empty feeling, causing him to lowly chuckle from behind you.

Now that your brain was slowly beginning to function properly again, you could think of nothing but the way he had so brazenly claimed you as his. Since when had that become a thing? Your heart was fluttering in your chest at the idea of being his, truly, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you decided to speak up.

“Freddie?” 

He looked up at you in the mirror, having just grabbed his wand and begun to perform a cleaning spell on you. His eyes were soft and kind, a stark contrast to the angry, jealous man you had seen earlier in the night, and it only endeared you further.

“Hm?”

“What you said…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling very stupid. But, you had come too far, and it felt too late to back now. “About, um, belonging, to you… uh…”

“Got a little carried away there, didn’t I?” He chuckled sheepishly, ducking his head down as he finished cleaning you up. You bent down slightly and tugged up your panties and leggings before turning to face him, finding him doing up his zipper. “Guess seeing Angie here with that prat made me feel a little possessive. Did it make you uncomfortable?” The genuine concern lacing his voice nearly made you weak.

“No.” You shook your head, a small smile on your face. The kind of smile you give someone when you’re at the very seams of falling apart, but you’re doing everything in your power to keep it together. Of course, as he had been so vocally claiming you, his motive had been her. You could feel the beginning of tears welling up in your eyes, but you knew you couldn’t let them fall in front of Fred, so you quickly turned back around and gripped the sides of the sink.

“Then what’s wrong?” Fred’s hand was now on your shoulder, urging you to turn towards him. But you knew, one look at him and you’d be done for.

Your mind was racing as you tried to think of your best way out of this situation, the way to walk away without pouring your heart out and ruining this friendship. But, then, you kept hearing him tell Angelina that you were a couple, or the way he claimed you moments before, play over and over again in your head. It was the soundtrack to your heartbreak, and you had no way to turn down the volume.

“I really just want to be alone, Fred.” Was all you could muster, your voice shaking and making you cringe.

“Obviously I did something wrong.” Fred drew his hand back, but he made no motion to leave. “So just tell me what I did and we can fix it sooner rather than later.”

“There’s nothing to fix.” You spun back around, so vehemently ready to deny anything being wrong and send him away. But then you were looking into those soft brown eyes and your heart was breaking just a little bit more and you couldn’t help but let the tears fall. “Oh, for fucks sake.” You scolded yourself lightly, beginning to wipe the tears that had fallen.

“Hey, hey,” Fred cooed with open arms, ready to pull you into a hug and help in any way he could. Even if he didn’t completely understand what was going on, he hated to see you hurting.

You held out a stiff arm to keep him away, your other hand still uselessly trying to stop your tears.

A banging at the door and a muffled voice shouting ‘Hurry up in there!’ was the first thing to pull Fred’s attention from you. He had shouted back a quick ‘just a second!’ which you had barely even registered before you were apparating away from the confined space and back to the peaceful emptiness of your flat. There, you could collapse on the floor and cry about just how foolish you’d been to think this was ever a good idea in the first place.

-

Fred had been shocked and mildly upset when he turned around and you were nowhere to be found, but then wrote it off as your way of escaping the bathroom without people having to know what you had been doing in there. When he exited the bathroom and found George, alone, a few minutes later, he was remarkably more confused. Had you really left the pub as a whole? Without saying so much as a goodbye?

Still, Fred resigned to give you your space. He had seen how upset you were, and how reluctant you’d been to wrap up in his arms—which was typically your favorite place to be when you were upset—and decided maybe you really just did need to be alone. If you wanted space, space is what Fred would give you. In reason, of course.

So, when a week had passed with no word from you, Fred was growing remarkably more distraught. The two of you had never willingly gone this long without speaking, and no matter how much Fred tried to reach out, he never got anything in return but silence. Your absence was weighing on him, and he couldn’t help but rack his brain helplessly trying to decipher what exactly he had done wrong.

“Still no reply,” Fred sighed as he thumbed through the last of the mail he and George had been delivered that morning.

“Hm? Oh, Y/N, right.” George had glanced up from his stack of paperwork briefly, before returning his focus on his work. Fred narrowed his eyes at his brother, suddenly very aware of his uninterested response. Fred was a nervous wreck worrying about your disappearances, yet George sat uncharacteristically calm and unbothered.

“You’ve heard from her, haven’t you?” The realization hit Fred all at once, suddenly making him feel sick.

“Well, I mean, yeah.” George set down his quill, finally giving his brother his full attention.

“And you didn’t think to say anything?” Fred nearly screamed, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“You didn’t ask.” George rolled his eyes. “She’s fine, by the way. Just doesn’t…”

“Just doesn’t want to talk to me, right?” Fred scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “For Merlin’s sake, I don’t even know what I did!”

“Isn’t my place to say.” George shrugged. “Although, what I can say, and what may or may not have any relation to Y/N, is you are the blindest, daftest, git I’ve ever met.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m really going to have to spell it out, aren’t I?” George sighed, beginning to rub his face with his hands. “Alright, if I must. Let’s play a little game, shall we? I ask a question, you give a simple yes or no answer. Nothing else. Got it?”

“Yes, but—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” George wiggled his finger, effectively cutting his brother off. “Alright, now, first question. Have you slept with anyone besides Y/N since you broke up with Angelina?”

“No.” Fred furrowed his brows. “But I don’t get—” This time, he abruptly cut himself off when George shot him a stern look.

“Next question. If you had to guess, has Y/N slept with anyone else since you two started your little… Arrangement?”

“No.”

“Okay, now. Think back to last week, were you actually jealous because Angelina was there with some guy, or was it because she was there specifically with the guy you had been insecure about, and it brought up all those old feelings?”

“I— That’s not a yes or no question!”

“Right, sorry.” George chuckled. “I’ll rephrase; Were you actually just upset and insecure about the specific guy Angelina was with?”

“Yes.” Fred’s voice was softer now.

“Final ones, really hoping this ties it all together for you.” George leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk as he gazed at his brother. “Little jump back to question two; If Y/N did sleep with someone else since you started would that make you jealous?”

The room was quiet as Fred clenched his jaw. He hated that George knew him and his emotions so well, because it was impossible to hide from them when he was around. After a moment, he stared down at his shoes and simply nodded.

“And, would you say, it would make you more jealous than when you thought you were jealous about Angie?”

Comparing the two jealousies felt pointless to Fred, what he felt last week at the pub wouldn’t even be in the same ballpark as what he would feel if he found out you had slept with someone else. You had always been his person, someone who had been there for him even when he was a stupid teenage boy. You were the only one he’d ever venture to say knew him almost as well as George. He had always written off the tinges of jealousy he felt when other guys flirted with you as the general protectiveness of a best friend, but was what George was insinuating the real explanation? Did he actually just have feelings for you?

“Yeah, it would make me more jealous.” Fred sighed frustratedly. “So what, okay? So maybe I’ve started to have feelings for her. You helping me realize that doesn’t exactly help with the fact that she won’t talk to me.”

“Why don’t you stop by her flat and tell her exactly what you just realized, and tell me if it doesn’t help?” With that, George gathered the last of his paperwork and headed up the stairs to their flat without another word.

-

After a week of working every morning and crashing on your couch every night, watching every sad movie you could find, it was safe to say you were out of tears. Truthfully, now you were just exhausted. It still hurt, but you didn’t have the energy to think about it constantly anymore. For that, you were surprisingly thankful.

So when you heard a knock on your door that Saturday night, you weren’t sure what you had been expecting. You vaguely knew in the back of your mind that it could be Hermione checking in and dropping off food, as she had a few times throughout the week, or maybe George coming in hopes of cheering you up. What you hadn’t expected, though, was the frantic face of Fred, yet that’s exactly what you found.

“I’m sorry to just show up like this, I know it’s kind of late, but you left me no choice.” He pleaded softly. The worried look on his face and the bags under his eyes caused a pool of guilt to form in your stomach, so before you could really think about it, you opened the door further and gestured for him to come in.

You both made your way into your living room, each finding a place on opposite ends of your couch. For a few moments, neither of you spoke. Fred nervously ran his hands up and down his thighs, while you wrung your hands repeatedly. Neither of you could seem to look at each other.

“Look I’m—”

“George said—”

Both of you had gone to speak at the same time, causing you to both cut off abruptly. Your eyes found each other for the first time and within seconds a smile was lighting up each of your faces, light laughter bursting from your lips.

“You go ahead.” You offered, the small smile still on your lips despite the pain in your heart. Fred seemed to draw in a deep breath, seeming uncharacteristically nervous. Your stomach flipped at the potential list of things that could come out of his mouth.

“I think I’m starting to fall for you.”

Well, that certainly hadn’t been on your list.

“You… You what?” You questioned, desperate for clarification. Desperate to have him repeat it.

“I said, I think I’m starting to fall for you.” He repeated, the look in his eyes so genuine you nearly trembled. “And I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, and I still don’t know why, but this is my way of saying I can’t lose you. Even if you don’t feel the same way—”

“What about Angelina?” Your voice was soft, unbelieving that this could ever be your reality.

“What about her?” Fred cocked his head to the side. Suddenly, how upset you got the week before all made sense to him, and he realized George was right. He was a daft git. “Y/N…” He trailed off, his heart suddenly hurting from the pain he’d caused you. “I’ve been such an arse, haven’t I? I used you to make her jealous, and what I said… Oh, fuck.”

You stared down at your hands in your lap. You hated reliving that night again, but some part of you was happy that at least now he had caught on.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He leaned forward and gently rested his hand on your cheek, coaxing you to look at him. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t care about her like that anymore, I mean it, okay? It just sucked seeing her there with the one guy I had always worried about.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He nodded. “Godric, I’ve probably been falling for you my whole life and just been too blind to see it.” His thumb lightly traced your cheekbone, causing your eyes to flutter close. “And even if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. Because I’m still sorry, and I’ll still do any—”

His words were cut off by you nearly throwing yourself towards him, your lips hurriedly find his. Although he seemed shocked at first, he quickly melted into the familiar feeling of your lips on his, and his hand moved down to cup your jaw. Butterflies were fully alive in your stomach, and for the first time you didn’t have the urge to squash them. This felt like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. After a moment, he pulled back and searched your eyes.

“Was that your way of telling me you feel the same way?” He grinned. “Because, for us, kissing your friend is normal. So I don’t know what that means—”

“Yes, you big idiot.” You teased, although you held nothing but love in your eyes. “I feel the same way.”

Now, he really was unsure why you hadn’t gotten together sooner.

[itsapeterthing]

My Hero || Peter Parker

pairing: civilian!peter x avenger!reader

summary: when your boyfriend, peter, gets invited to the stark gala for his internship, you have to try to make it through the night without him finding out that you’re secretly an avenger

a/n: peter is in college here! finally another oneshot for our boy petey- reblogs and replies are super appreciated!

word count: 3.9k

warnings: reader has spidey’s enhanced senses, there’s a gun, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

Pushing open the door of the building you had just had class in, your eyes immediately met those of your boyfriend sitting on the bench waiting for you outside. As soon as you saw him a smile reached across his face and he pushed himself out of his seat, making his way over to you.

“Hey, Pete-”

“- So I don’t know how I got one of these-” Peter started rambling, walking beside you. “They handed it to me and in my head I was like ‘this has to be a mistake’ you know? ‘Cause there’s no way I would get invited-”

“Woah, Peter, slow down!” You laughed, turning to your boyfriend. “What are you talking about?”

Realizing that he hadn’t even told you what he was going on about, Peter stopped and began shoving his hands through his pockets. When you stopped your pace in front of him, you watched as Peter pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

“What’s that for?” You asked.

A smile spread across his face once again as he pulled the invitation out of the envelope.

You swore you felt your heart drop to your stomach when you saw Stark Industry’s logo printed on the piece of paper.

“It’s for this party thing-”

“-Gala.” You corrected him.

“Yeah!” He said. “Gala! It’s for this gala that Mr. Stark is hosting and you know- at first I didn’t think I could be invited, but it has my name and everything.”

You began to tap your feet as he explained this all to you, feeling your anxiousness grow.

“So, are you going to go?” You asked, praying that he wouldn’t say the answer that you were sure he was going to give.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked.

You knew it was a rhetorical question. At least in Peter’s mind there wasn’t a logical reason as to why a 19 year-old intern for Stark Industries shouldn’t go to a Gala- it could open so many doors for him and it was a rare honor- but you knew things that Peter didn’t. To be more exact, he didn't know the things you were keeping a secret from him.

You had known about the Gala before Peter had even mentioned it because you had been invited yourself, not as a Stark intern, but as an Avenger. You had only found out you had abilities a few months ago when you had been bitten by a radioactive spider. Later you had been discovered by the group, but managed to have your identity remain a secret. 

It’s not that you didn’t trust Peter enough to tell him- you were going to tell him- just not yet. You needed more time.

This Gala invitation felt like Tony Stark was purposefully trying to ruin your life, despite the fact that you had never informed him- or any of the Avengers for that matter- that you and Peter Parker, his intern, were dating.

“Of course I’m gonna go!” He said. “Mr. Stark invited me. This is big for me, Y/n. And... guess what?”

“What?” You asked, not particularly enjoying where this conversation was headed.

“I have a plus one.” Peter said.

Of course he did.

“Oh that’s awesome, Pete!” You smiled, beginning to walk in the opposite direction once again. “I’m sure May would love to go!”

Jogging to catch up with you, Peter grabbed hold of your arm, pulling you back.

“May?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why would I ask May? I want you to go with me.”

Looking at your boyfriend, you felt so guilty for lying to him. He was the sweetest person you had ever met and as he smiled at you, hopeful to have you on his arm at tonight’s event, you couldn’t find it in you to say no to him.

“I’d love to go, Peter.” You said. “Pick me up at seven?”

“Yeah- wait.” Peter said quirking his eyebrows again. “How did you know it was tonight?”

Shit.

“Oh!” You chuckled. “I... I don’t know why I figured that. So... seven?”

Slowly nodding his head, your boyfriend nervously chuckled. “Yeah, seven.”

“Okay!” You exclaimed, leaning in to peck Peter’s cheek before pulling away. “I have to go meet my professor. See you later!”

And with that you took off in the other direction, your mind filled with worries about tonight’s event, planning ways in your head to keep your double life a secret from your boyfriend. As you did, Peter watched you walk away, still glued to his spot sensing that something just wasn’t right.

-

Clipping on your earrings, you heard the sound of Peter’s knuckles meeting your door, lightly knocking. Pulling the door open, your eyes met Peter’s and you smiled.

“What do you think?” You asked, gesturing at the dress you were wearing.

You watched as Peter’s jaw practically dropped and he reached out his hand for yours.

“W-woah.” He said in awe, a smiling reaching across his face as he pulled your hand, twirling you around. “You- you look so beautiful, Y/n.”

Despite the anxiety that you were feeling about the night ahead of you, you couldn't help but smile at his compliment. No matter how often he called you beautiful, you still became a smiling mess every time.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Parker.”

He didn't. Standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but notice how much your boyfriend had gone out for the Gala tonight- adorning a a black tuxedo, his hair slicked in a way that you were sure was his Aunt’s doing.

“Since when do you have a tux lying around?” You asked, tugging on the labels of his jacket.

“I rented it a few hours ago. May picked it out.” He told you, resting his hands on your waist. “D-does it look okay? I thought it might look better than the old suit at-”

Pulling on the lapels once more to bring his lips to yours, you kissed him, quickly shutting him up as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. Smiling and  pulling away you straightened out his jacket.

“You look amazing, baby.” You whispered. “Now let’s get going shall we, Mr. Parker?”

“We shall.”

-

Stepping out of the cab and onto the sidewalk outside of the museum where the Gala was being held, the thoughts that you had been pushing aside for the last nine hours suddenly came to the surface as your heart began to race in your chest.

How were you going to keep everything a secret? You hadn’t even told the other members of your group that you would be attending with your boyfriend... your boyfriend who didn’t know that you had super-human abilities or that you were one of them.

As Peter laced his fingers with yours, squeezing tightly before guiding you towards the building, you gave him a soft smile while all you could do in your head was attempt to haphazardly form a plan.

Stepping inside the foyer of the museum, it was clear that no expense was spared for the night. The room was filled with people you didn’t recognize, waiters with flutes on trays weaving through the crowd. The sound of the orchestra playing mixed with the sounds of the hundreds of conversations around you.

It was times like these that you weren’t so glad to have your abilities, the light of the chandelier glowing brighter in your eyes as your enhanced hearing tuned in on ten conversations around you.

Unlacing your fingers from your boyfriend’s, you pulled him closer.

“I’m going to go find the bathroom, okay?” You told him. “I’ll be back.”

“Already?” He asked. “Do you want me to wait outside or-”

“No!” You exclaimed a bit too excitedly before lowering your voice. “I’ll find you.”

Before he could say anything else, you pushed through the crowd of people, leaving the foyer of the museum to find an empty hallway. When you finally pushed through your last person, reaching an empty exhibit within the museum, you slumped against the all.

Why did you think this was a good idea? Although Peter would have initially been upset with you declining his invitation and Tony Stark would no doubt find it suspicious that you cancelled so last minute on his end, at least you would be spared from the nervousness you were feeling now as your hands became clammy and the air felt as though it grew thicker by the second.

“Y/n?” You heard a familiar voice ask.

Pulling yourself away from the wall and glancing over your shoulder, you looked up to see Natasha Romanoff standing in the doorway of the exhibit.

“Sorry,” You said, playing with one of the bracelets adorning your wrist. “I can leave if I shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay, kid.” She said, smiling. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“Yeah,” You said, chuckling. “That’s because I came with my boyfriend.”

Tilting her head, she smiled.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. So your boyfriend came with you?”

Although you knew what she meant, you shook her head.

“Nope,” You told her, popping the p. “I came with my boyfriend. He... he’s an intern for Stark. He thinks I’m here as his plus one.”

“... But you’re an Avenger?” She said.

“He uh.. he doesn’t know that.”

You felt guilty finally saying it out loud, confessing to your mentor that you had been lying to your boyfriend about not only having super-human abilities, but about being a part of the Avengers, risking your life to save others almost weekly.

Rather than lecturing you, she made her way over to you, leaning against the wall beside you.

“I can understand that.” Natasha said before sighing. “But... I also understand what it’s like to live a double life, Y/n. You can’t keep living like this. It’ll make you sick and at some point you’ll lose yourself in the two.”

“But how can I tell him?” You asked, turning to face her. “I’ve been lying to him for so long and he’s just so sweet, Nat. He’d be so worried about me if he knew.”

“You said he’s nice, right?” She asked, smiling as you nodded. “Then tell him. He’ll understand and if he doesn’t... at least you’ll feel better because right now you look like shit.”

Scoffing at her insult you elbowed her. “Thanks, Nat.”

Patting your back and shoving herself off of the wall, she laughed. “What am I if not honest?”

Before you could throw her another snarky comment, however, you watched as she strolled out of the exhibit, heading back into the Gala.

Letting her advice sit with you, you knew that she was right. You had never been as stressed as you were hiding your identity from your boyfriend. You were actually less anxious fighting bad guys than when he would go to grab a pencil from your drawer where you kept your web shooters when the two of you were studying.

You had to tell him- if not for your sake at least his own.

You were afraid to tell him, but Nat was right.

He deserved to know. He was your boyfriend and one of the most kind, honest and understanding men you had ever met- he deserved to know what his girlfriend was up to every night and even the danger he was putting himself in by choosing to be yours.

You decided then that you were going to tell him... except not tonight. Tonight was his night- the night where he finally felt like an appreciated member of Tony Stark’s staff- and he didn’t deserve your limelight ruining it.

Straightening the dress you were wearing, you made your way out of the exhibit and back into the expansive foyer of the museum. Tuning in your hearing, you looked for your boyfriend, but when you heard his voice muffled with Tony Stark’s... it was too late to turn around.

“Y/n!” You heard Peter call. “I’m over here!”

Taking a deep breath, you waved back to your boyfriend, forcing a wide smile onto your face. Striding over to Peter, your eyes met Tony’s whose quickly went wide as he pieced together the situation in front of him.

Before he could open his mouth, however, you extended your hand to him.

“Mr. Stark!” You exclaimed. “It’s so nice to meet you. Peter’s told me so much about you- I’m a huge fan- really.”

Slowly taking your hand and shaking it tightly, he quirked his eyebrows, staring at you for a moment before turning back to Peter.

“Parker,” Tony said, pulling his hand away. “if I knew you had a girlfriend like her, I would have promoted you sooner.”

You felt Peter’s hand wrap around your back to rest on your waist as he smiled brightly.

“W-well thank you, Mr-”

“You know,” Tony said, cutting him off. “I just can’t get over it. She looks exactly like this girl I know. What did you say your name was again?”

You should have figured that Tony was going to give you a hard time.

“Y/n.” You told him, through gritted teeth.

“Y/n...” He said your name again, before chuckling. “God I almost feel like I’m talking to her-”

Before he even had the chance to finish his sentence, however, you heard the overwhelming sound of the glass window that spanned the length of the room shattering behind Tony. Turning your attention to the area, you watched as a large robot-like creature climbed its way into the foyer, kicking it’s legs through the remaining wall. Behind you the crowd of people began to erupt into screams as they rushed out of the doors of the museum. 

“Holy shit!” You shouted, stunned by the android.

At your side you felt Peter’s hand grip yours and when you turned around to face him, you watched as he attempted to pull you in the other direction towards the door, tugging on your hand.

“Y/n, we have to get out of here!” He exclaimed.

You had hoped you had more time.

You had hoped you would be able to break it to him nicely.

But as you turned back around to see Tony Stark’s Iron Man suit forming around him and the robot stepping inside the building, you knew you were out of time.

Pulling your hand out of Peter’s, you watched as a look of betrayal washed over his face.

“I can’t Peter!” You shouted, reaching your hands behind your dress.

“What? What do you mean you can-”

“Are you in or are you out, Y/n?” You heard Tony ask.

Glancing between him and your boyfriend, the sound of the robot destroying tables echoing throughout the room, you nodded at Tony.

“I’m in.”

“What do you mean you’re in-”

Ignoring Peter, you undid the laces on the back of your dress, the fabric falling to your feet.

You were thanking yourself for choosing to wear your shorts underneath your dress right about now.

“Good.” Tony said. “Your suit’s coming in three.., two...”

Stretching your arms out, you felt as the high tech machinery of Tony Stark’s  “spidey suit” for you met your skin. The material stretched across your body, covering your skin until it finally reached around your face, forming your mask.

Turning to look at your boyfriend, you saw his eyes go wide, his mouth practically dropping to the floor.

“What... Y/n-” He stumbled over his words.

Picking your dress up off the floor, you shoved it into your boyfriend’s arms.

“Peter, you need to get out of here!” You shouted over the sound of destruction in the background.

“I- I-” He continued, still glued to his spot. “You’re Spider-Woman?”

“Hey!” You heard Tony shout. “Save the Soap Opera for after we stop this thing!”

Glancing back at Tony and then to Peter, you gently shoved Peter in the direction towards the door.

“We’ll talk about this later!” You shouted, jogging backwards. “Just get out of here!”

Without turning around again to look at Peter’s face, you shot a web towards the android, flinging yourself towards it. When your web met the android’s chest you landed a swift kick to its head before shooting another web, spinning yourself around the android’s body.

“Shit!” You shouted. “This thing’s strong! Can someone help me out?”

As soon as you asked, you watched as a familiar shield came straight for the android’s head, dodging out of the way at the last second, it collided with its face, stopping the animatronic from moving its arms long enough for you to swing yourself around them, webbing them down at its sides.

“Thank you!”

As Tony continued to blast at its face, trying to get a reading on what this creature was, you shot a web towards its waist, swinging yourself around its body once again.

“Taking out the legs, Y/n?” You heard Cap’s voice ask through the earpiece of your suit.

Huffing and Puffing, you replied. “That’s the plan!”

Pulling the webs that you had spun around the android’s knees tighter, you groaned, feeling the strain on your muscles. Just as you were about to lose your grip, the webs slipping from your fingers, both Steve’s shield and the rays from Tony’s palms hit the back of the android’s knees, knocking it onto the floor. Jumping off of the being at the last second, you landed on your knees.

Pushing yourself onto your feet, you heard the clicking sound of a door within the android’s torso opening. When you looked up, your eyes were met with a man who had a gun raised in his hand... pointed at you.

“Hey!” You called shakily, raising your hands. “We can talk this out.”

“Talk this out?” The man said. “I spent two years working on this-”

Before he could say another word, however, the loud clang of a platter meeting the back of the man's head rang throughout the room. When he fell to the ground, your eye’s met Peter’s who stood behind him, the silver tray in his hand.

“Peter?” You asked, tapping the side of your neck so your mask would retract from your face.

Dropping the tray to the floor, he doubled over, hands on his knees.

“That was...” He said huffing. “... so... cool!”

Rushing over to Peter’s side, stepping over the unconscious man’s body, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s back, listening as he wheezed. Knowing his aunt well enough to know that she wouldn’t let Peter leave the house without his inhaler, you slipped your hands into his pant pocket, pulling out the device and placing it in his hands.

As he inhaled a quick two puffs, his breathing slowly evening out as his airways opened up, you and him looked up to find the attention of the rest of the team on the both of you.

“Well,” Nat said breaking the silence, staring at the unconscious man on the floor in front of you. “I guess love really does conquer all.”

Hearing a chuckle settle over the group surrounding you, the next person to speak was Steve, stepping in front of Peter and reaching his hand out for him to shake.

Glancing between Cap’s hand and face, Peter straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Oh, wow.” Peter said in awe, shaking his hand dramatically. “M- Mr. Captain America, sir, I’m a huge fan.”

Smiling, Steve laid his hand on his shoulder.

“I can say the same about you, kid.” He said. “You gotta stand up for your girl- no matter how strong and capable she may be... I would know.”

Without saying another word, leaving Peter starstruck in his spot beside you, Steve walked away towards Natasha. Tony was the last to come up to the two of you.

“Well, Parker,” He said, tapping his wrist so that his suit retracted from around his body. “I gotta say- I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“T- thank you, Mr. Stark.” Peter said nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“I guess we can consider making you a paid intern now.” Tony said. “You saved an Avenger and now you get paid minimum wage- sound fair?”

Nodding his head smiling, Peter took Tony’s hand in his, shaking it. “Yes! Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it!”

“I know I won’t.” He said, pulling his hand back and stepping away from him. “And Peter?”

“Yes?”

“Be nice to her.” Tony said finally shooting you a wink before heading towards the rest of the group standing over the unconscious man.

Glancing down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers, you looked up at Peter.

“I’m so sorry for not telling you, Pete.” You said, taking a deep breath. “I was just so scared. At first I didn’t even know what was going on with me and then the Avengers found me and my life just got so crazy, but you always treated me like I was just me... I didn’t want that to change and I.... I didn’t want you to leave me once you found out.”

Taking your fidgeting hands in his, he squeezed tightly.

“You thought I would leave you?” Peter asked.

You nodded.

“Y/n, I- I would never leave you.” Peter said seriously. “Yeah, it’s super cool that my girlfriend’s Sider-Woman and you look... like... really hot... in that suit-”

“Peter.”

“But I love you.” He told you finally. “Not Spider-Woman- you.”

You weren’t able to help the smile that reached across your face as you listened to your boyfriend. You should have known that Peter would never hate you- especially not for something as cool as having super human abilities- and you almost wanted to laugh at yourself for worrying so much over it. In the end all that mattered was that Peter now knew and he chose to be with you anyway.

Taking your hands out of his, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“Thanks for being my hero tonight, Peter.” You whispered.

Smiling, gazing at his face you couldn’t help but notice the blush that began to rise to his cheeks as he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh that? That was nothing.” He chuckled.

“Hey! Love birds!” Tony shouted from across the room. “The press has gotta be here any minute- better head out unless you want your face on the front page.”

“You’ve got it, Mr. Stark!” Peter called back, waving his hand.

Waving goodbye to the members of your group one last time, you laced your fingers with Peter’s guiding him towards the door.

“Got my dress?” You asked.

Pulling your dress out from behind a nearby vase, he continued his pace handing you the bundled up gown.

“Couldn’t forget that!”

Smiling you slipped behind a wall near the entrance, pulling your gown on. Without asking you felt Peter come up behind you, lacing up the back of your dress as you tapped your wrist, your suit retracting with your touch beneath the dress.

“I don’t know about you,” Peter said, tying the laces. “But I’m-”

“Starving?” You asked, laughing.

Stepping back from tying up your gown, he laughed. “Yeah, want to go grab some post battle dinner?”

Taking his hand in yours, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. “How can I say no to that?”

[the-last-kenobi]

I adore your qui gon and obi wan stuff so can we get a number 8 on the prompt list with obi wan and qui gon?

Absolutely!! I’m so glad you chose that one; I’ve loved every single prompt I’ve gotten but this one breaks the mold a little.

I hope this lives up to your expectations!

From this various prompts list.

_

When Qui-Gon Jinn set foot on the planet of Melida/Daan for the second time, he had a fixed set of expectations.

He expected to find the same war-torn, shattered homes and abused soil, the same decimated populations, the same stench of death. He expected to find the underground hideouts where the children hid from the wrath of their parents, and where the Melida plotted against the Daan and the Daan against the Melida. He expected to find a bruised and shame-faced former Jedi Padawan, ready to humble himself before the Council.

He expected to have to offer both comfort and stern reprimand to this child who, as much of a delight as he had once been, no longer deserved to be his apprentice.

And he did find some of that.

He also found fields of green grass, and abandoned fields of half-plucked vegetation and fruits.

A memorial garden.

A row of corpses covered neatly in cloths, lining the road, respectfully untouched.

Faded posters announcing committees and treaties and open elections, speeches and remembrance services.

A mural on a stone wall, somewhere between impressionist and abstract, of a line of children and adults, the children in the center. Towards the very middle, almost exactly so, was the image of a young boy with pale russet locks hanging an inch loose, and Qui-Gon paused, observing warily as if the image might come to life and attack him.

But it was only an image, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was only a wayward child.

And none of this is was going as anticipated.

The Jedi Master tried to recall what Yoda had told him before chivvying him out the door, but in truth he had not processed much of it aside from Obi-Wan’s name and the understanding that he had asked to be retrieved from Melida/Daan.

Why?

Clearly things had changed, immensely — and yet, in the background, the continued sound of bombs going off and weapons firing, and not a living being in sight.

Qui-Gon continued deeper into the core of the civilization, skirting the worst of the ruins but avoiding the main road in a passing effort to go unnoticed.

It did not last long.

“Master Jedi!” a voice hissed out suddenly, and Qui-Gon turned sharply to see a young man — maybe nineteen, at most — peering at him around the corner of the nearest building, pressed close to the wall. He gestured shortly and vanished.

Qui-Gon took a moment to cast out his senses. The Force bore no distinct warning, so he crossed the road quickly and ducked around the corner.

The young man was waiting for him. Up close it was clear that he was younger than he had appeared, perhaps seventeen, just emerging from the gangly limbs stage, and he was coated in dirt and grime — some of it oddly strategic, smeared across his cheekbones and the crown of his forehead, darkening and muting them. Dark hazel eyes considered Qui-Gon suspiciously.

“You were expecting me,” Qui-Gon stated.

The boy nodded. “I was. Obi-Wan said you would be arriving today, maybe tomorrow.”

A strange jolt ran through Qui-Gon. He had not said Obi-Wan’s name aloud himself, not since that day almost eight months before, and while he had heard other Jedi mention it, it was off-putting to hear this total stranger use it. So familiarly. Like he knew Kenobi well. Qui-Gon brushed the thoughts aside like so many cobwebs and spoke again: “Well, here I am. Where next?”

He did not say, ‘Where is Obi-Wan?’

For some reason, it would have felt like a confession.

The boy pressed his lips into a flat line, as if the Jedi had failed some sort of test. “…I’ll show you. Stick close to me and don’t do anything reckless. Stealth is our best ally right now. Only ally, really.”

Qui-Gon wondered what he was, then, since he was certainly not included in this mysterious “we.”

It was slightly insulting, and sharply painful, to be lectured on strategic maneuvers by what amounted to a child soldier.

Nevertheless, Qui-Gon followed him.

They wound their way through the settlement, bypassing craters where homes had stood and also far more intact buildings, still crisp and clean and bearing that unmistakable scent of newness.

These, more than any of the others, were painted with images of children and adults standing together, plastered with announcements, and more than one — many — almost all — featuring that flame-haired youth. More often than not he was framed closely by two others. Another boy, this one slightly taller and leaner with dark hair. And a girl, a little smaller, with bold waves and startling green eyes.

The boy with the dirty face turned his head to look at each of them, though he did not slow.

After what felt like a very long time, Qui-Gon found himself entering what seemed to be a cellar. It was dark and musty, but before he could question it, his guide went to a section of the wall and pushed, popping open a panel that sank away and slid to one side.

“This way,” he said unnecessarily.

In they went. It was a tunnel, low and long, and Qui-Gon had to stoop halfway just to move. The boy, several inches shorter, had less trouble.

A few minutes of breathless, blind stumbling later, and they reached a reinforced door.

The boy knocked slowly, then quickly; stopped, and then knocked rapidly again. “It’s me!” he called through the crevice. “He’s here.”

There was a grinding sound, and then the door swung open to reveal bright light. The boy slipped through without hesitation, but the Jedi Master was more wary, blinking and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light before slowly entering the room, still bowed low from the tunnel.

When he rose, he was looking directly into the eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The boy had changed, and yet was exactly the same.

There was no other way to describe it.

He had certainly shot up an inch or so in height. His Jedi tunics were gone; he was wearing a stained white tunic of much poorer cloth and simpler cut, over a pair of patched brown trousers and sturdy boots. His robe was still the one he had worn when he had first arrived all those months ago, but he had sewn the sleeves so that they did not dangle over his wrists or hang wide and loose; instead they were drawn closer, but not so tight that they impeded his movement.

His hair seemed more coppery red than before as it hung loose and untidy, coming to slightly ragged ends halfway between his jawline and his shoulders. Some of the baby fat had melted away, driven off no doubt by stress and hunger and emotion, and his cheekbones stood out a little too much.

But it was his eyes that struck Qui-Gon.

They seemed exactly the same.

Pale blue-green, wide and friendly and innocent, sweet as they had been on the day they met.

Unbearably naive.

Those eyes flickered with shock for a moment, and then the boy stepped forward and offered out his hand. “Master Jinn,” he said.

Qui-Gon blinked. Perhaps if he waited a moment, Obi-Wan would remember that Jedi bowed? But the boy merely stared at him with his hand extended, and so Qui-Gon grasped it and shook briefly before letting go.

The boy did not seem particularly bothered. He turned to the rest of the room. “You’re all ready?”

“Yes,” came a chorus of voices.

Freed from the strangeness of Obi-Wan and his gaze, Qui-Gon looked around. There were several others present — all humans, all young, all grimy. Maybe a dozen or so in number. The room he was in was spacious, a little low-ceilinged and plain. It had the air of a bunker, with bright lights that aggravated the eyes and dull walls and functional furniture. Most notably, the enormous table in the center.

It was spread with maps, fliers, announcement posters, detailed blueprints for buildings and machinery, tidy sketches outlining strategies and countermeasures. Qui-Gon’s keen eyes caught words like ‘anti-terrorism,’ ‘knowledge is courage,’ ‘long-range missile launcher,’ and ‘riot activity.’ And, half-concealed under a map of Melida/Daan’s entire surface, a flat holo of three people. Obi-Wan. The dark-haired boy. The girl with green eyes.

“Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan’s voice broke into his observations.

They were all watching him with various degrees of mistrust.

Qui-Gon straightened his spine, and then forced himself to relax a little, trying to radiate comfort and honesty. Even without force sensitivity, they would be eased somewhat.

“Yes, I’m listening,” he assured them.

Kenobi exchanged a quick look with the boy who had guided him here, and the youth shrugged. “He was quick enough and he listened to what I said, but he’s like most adults. Thinking more in his head than paying attention, didn’t even ask my name.”

Qui-Gon started. He hadn’t, had he?

“I—” he began, but the youth cut him off with a dismissive gesture.

“You didn’t ask,” he said. “I’m not sharing now. I’m sure you’ll hear it eventually.”

Obi-Wan nodded as if this were perfectly reasonable. “Master Jinn, are you prepared to take all thirteen of us back to Coruscant?”

“What?” Qui-Gon demanded. He glanced around at the others, who looked even less impressed than before. He felt so unexpectedly out of his depth. What was this place? “I — no, I’m returning you to the Jedi, to the care of the High Council.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said placidly. “You’re not. I’m sure Master Yoda had his reasons for sending you—” the slightest emphasis on the word ‘you’—“but you are here to escort myself and the other twelve to the Core to appear before the Senate. That’s why you were assigned such a large ship. We’re going to make an appeal on behalf of Meldan.”

“Meldan?” Qui-Gon echoed.

“Our planet,” one of the others, a curly-haired, fierce-eyed woman of about twenty-two said. “Obi, are you sure about this? This isn’t at all what you said we could expect.”

“Master Jinn is an exception to many rules,” Obi-Wan told her; as he turned his head to look in her direction, he briefly seemed to change, the tension in his shoulders easing and his face alight with mischief. Then it was gone. He turned back to Qui-Gon, and beneath the veneer of professionalism could be glimpsed a strange aura of… something Qui-Gon couldn’t determine or define.

Their eyes met again, and silence fell for a moment.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan decided. “Yes, this will work. If any Jedi will help ensure you catch the attention of the Senate, it would be Master Jinn. Master Yoda also told me that Master Adi Gallia will be your official patron, which is good; she spends most of her time handling the political side of Jedi affairs.”

“Then we should go now,” said a small boy of no more than nine. “Let’s go!”

“Not just yet, Jocco,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, turning a gentle smile on the child. “We’re not quite ready. We’ll leave in about an hour.”

“Right,” Jocco said, nodding. “Okay.”

Obi-Wan smiled again. “All right, everyone. We have meals to eat and supplies to pack, so let’s keep together and keep organized. Sarai,” he nodded at the curly-haired woman, “and my friend,” a nod to the bitter-eyed nameless guide, “please bring Master Jinn up to speed. Master Jinn,” he added, glancing up from where the smallest children were flocking to his side and clinging to his hands, “I will see you in an hour.”

He left, surrounded by children both far younger and several years older than him, like adoring chicks following their mother, or maybe more like an honor guard. The contrast was both ludicrous and oddly touching.

“You listen to him,” Qui-Gon commented to his tight-lipped companions. “Even though he no longer carries the authority of a Jedi.”

“I haven’t seen any Jedi authority yet,” snapped back his unnamed guide. “Just three Jedi who came, two who left, and one who stayed.”

“It was not our mission to stay,” Qui-Gon replied calmly, tucking his hands inside his sleeves. “Though I can see what compelled him to.”

“Oh, can you?” said Sarai. She folded her arms tightly and assessed him, her lip curling. “I don’t think you see much past the end of your own nose.”

“Petty insults will get us nowhere,” he replied, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of said nose. “And it won’t help you when you speak for your people before the Senate.”

“Me?” an amused smile curled her lips. She looked as if all her suspicions had just been confirmed. “I won’t be speaking, not primarily anyways. I don’t have any governmental authority behind me, I’m just a secondary representative.”

“Same here,” said the young man.

“Governmental authority…? Then who is your speaker?” Qui-Gon asked, slightly bewildered.

“Are you blind?” said the young man. “Obi-Wan is the leader. Since the other two were assassinated, Obi-Wan is our only head of government.”

_

The next time Qui-Gon laid eyes on his former apprentice, it was mere minutes before their agreed departure time.

The children — Melida, Daan, none of them older than sixteen, aside from former Melida Sarai and former Daan who still refused to share his name — were all gathered next to a large reinforced bay door next to a small fleet of speeders.

Obi-Wan had one arm draped around the shoulders of a ten-year-old boy, murmuring instructions to him, and carrying the little toddler girl on his hip. She was playing with his hair contentedly, unbothered by the preparations going on around her.

If it had been strange to see Obi-Wan before, with his air of sameness-yet-differentness, it was doubly so now.

Knowing what he now knew.

Knowing that Obi-Wan Kenobi had accomplished what he had set out to do and reunited the Melida and the Daan with the help of a few middle-aged adults from both sides and the constant aid of his two companions, Cerasi and Nield. Knowing that he had been fairly elected alongside Cerasi and Nield as the Triumvers — the three Heads of State — of the newly named Meldan.

Knowing that they had been in the midst of Reconstruction both physical and emotional when a radical had betrayed them, murdering innocents gathered for discussions. How Cerasi had been murdered in her bed. How Nield had begun drumming up a military force, only to be assassinated — by a friend of the peace or a foe, who could say? How Obi-Wan had seen all his allies either killed or turn away, and had gathered all he could and retreated below ground, holding tight to his ideals and the legislative power that now backed him.

Knowing how he had continued to sow the seeds of freedom and diplomacy even as the people left above ground resorted again to violence. How he had nurtured genuine friendships among his people, even after having been betrayed.

And here he stood, not even fifteen, making children laugh and reassuring people older than him as he attempted to carry them to freedom and hope.

A government of war-veteran children, led by a former Jedi Padawan.

Qui-Gon watched as everyone was paired up, older teens with younger children, two to a speeder, until at last there was only one vehicle left and only himself and Kenobi still standing.

“I’m afraid I’ll be piloting,” the boy told him. “I’m familiar with the route.”

Qui-Gon swallowed away a bitter taste and merely nodded.

Obi-Wan swung himself up behind the controls, and Qui-Gon moved to sit behind him, and despite everything, despite knowing Obi-Wan’s history over the past eight months, despite being determined not to regard him as his Padawan ever again, it still felt wrong to sit behind. To let the child lead. To let the child sit behind the controls where any decent sniper would aim.

“Stick close and keep low!” Obi-Wan called out.

“Love you Obi!” the same tiny girl cried out from somewhere behind them on another speeder.

Qui-Gon didn’t know what he expected, if he expected anything at all in this strange parallel universe he had wandered into. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan turning his head to grin at the girl and calling back, “Love you too, Cler!” still surprised him.

And then they were off.

The children were clearly well trained, experienced. They seemed to know this back route by heart, undeterred by the semi-light of dusk, and keeping behind outcroppings of rock and trees as much as possible.

Obi-Wan glanced around periodically to check on the others, and every so often one of the others from the back of the parade would speed up to match his pace and give him the all-clear before falling back again.

The breathlessness of the moment settled somewhere in Qui-Gon’s chest. If he could put aside the emotional toll it was taking to sit behind his former student and see him not as a Jedi but as a war-tried planetary ruler, it was easier to be caught up in the rush. The fate of thousands depended on this race for freedom.

The former Jedi Master and Padawan maintained their lead, a slight gap between them and the others.

This served them all well when a blaster bolt came out of nowhere and struck Obi-Wan in his right shoulder, missing his chest only because he sensed it at the last second and twisted away.

There were screams from the smaller children; the older children reacted immediately, scattering their small fleet and engaging their weapons.

“There!” Qui-Gon cried, pointing to a ridge on their right where glimpses of people moving could be seen. His other hand was holding Obi-Wan upright.

“Are you all right to keep piloting?” he shouted.

“For a little while! Hold on, I have a plan!” Obi-Wan shouted back.

“Is it a good plan?”

“Hard to tell until I’ve done it!”

For a second it felt like it had been a year ago, or even better, both of them on the edge of adrenaline and serenity, grinning.

Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and deflected two more blaster shots, calling out warnings to the others within earshot.

A speeder went down.

A girl and boy were thrown several meters, crushing in the dust, clinging to one another as they rolled to a stop. On another speeder, Sarai yelled “Here!” and pulled up alongside Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, while Jocco stood up from behind her and leapt.

Qui-Gon’s heart shot to his throat.

But as he extended a hand and caught the child with the Force, Obi-Wan was already doing the same thing, drawing Jocco safely onto their speeder. Sarai, meanwhile, swung her speeder back around and parked it in front of the fallen one, shielding the injured two from view. She stood up on the seat and raised a blaster in each hand, lips twisted in a snarl. “Over here you bastards!” she screamed. “Like shooting at children? Give it your best shot!”

“She’s insane,” said Qui-Gon.

“She’s my second in command!” Obi-Wan laughed. “Now get ready! You’re taking the wheel!”

“What?”

Qui-Gon turned his head just in time to see Obi-Wan launch himself off of the moving speeder with reckless grace, executing a Force-augmented leap to land neatly on the ridge. “Kenobi! What are you doing?” Qui-Gon bellowed.

The boy didn’t respond. He had a blaster in his good hand and dropped out of view, directly onto the heads of the people concealed behind the rocks. There were yells; red light flared as weapons went off in rapid succession. Sarai took advantage of the distraction and urged the other two onto her speeder. “Go!” she said.

As soon as they were off, one of the other speeders erupted from the tree-line and swooped in front of her, slowing down enough to allow her to jump aboard behind two smaller children. “Good job kiddos,” Qui-Gon heard her say. Then she looked up at him. “Come on, we have to go!”

“But—Obi-Wan—” he said helplessly.

As he did, Obi-Wan reappeared at the crest of the ridge, a smoking hole in his trouser leg and a bloody furrow over one eye. He looked directly at Qui-Gon and mouthed, ‘Go! Take the others and run, now!’

Then he was gone again.

A pained look crossed Sarai’s face, but she glanced at Jocco sitting on his lap and smoothed it away at once. “He knows what he’s doing,” she said. “Now come on!”

They sped off, trailing dust and a broken wreck, following in the wake of the other speeders far ahead of them.

In the distance, the ship gleamed in the low light, a beacon for them to follow.

The others were waiting for them when they arrived, arranged defensively around the ship, protecting their only mode of transportation. The nameless boy was standing front and center, an adapted blaster rifle in his arms, looking ready to kill anyone who got too near. Jocco ran straight to him.

Sarai helped the other two down and began loading everyone onto the ship, which opened at Qui-Gon’s command.

He and the boy with the rifle waited.

And waited.

The sun set in earnest, and darkness fell.

And still they waited.

“Can you make your appeal to the Senate without him?” Qui-Gon said suddenly.

The young man whipped his head around to look at him. “What?”

“Can you make your appeal without Obi-Wan?”

He sneered. “In his absence, legal responsibility falls to Sarai and me. But it’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not.” Qui-Gon agreed.

There was a brief silence.

“Can you pilot this starship?”

“What?”

Qui-Gon did not repeat himself this time, and the young man’s eyes widened, his grip on his rifle slackening. “You… you want to stay. You want to stay and search for him.”

“You need to leave,” said Qui-Gon quietly. “Can you pilot this starship?”

“My name’s Radan,” the young man said brusquely, extending a grimy hand. “And yeah, between me and Kieln we can figure it out pretty quickly.”

“Good,” said Qui-Gon shaking his hand firmly. “As soon as you exit your first hyperspace jump, contact Master Yoda, it’s all programmed into the system. Tell him what happened.”

He looked again to the shadowed horizon, to the dark smudge several kilometers distant that was the stone ridge where he had last seen Obi-Wan.

“Tell him,” he paused. “…Tell him I am going to stay with my Padawan.”

Radan paused halfway up the ramp, turning to look back, a look of concern crossing his young face. “Even if he’s never going back to the Jedi?” he asked.

Qui-Gon hesitated.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we? Obi-Wan is capable of making his own decisions.”

Qui-Gon turned back towards the horizon, towards Obi-Wan.

“But I will not leave him again.”

_