#and there was a random ass paper coffee cup in the middle

[fashionsfromhistory]

small break as I must get the gunk from stock off me

[moonieandi]

snapshots | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines

warnings (TW): swearing

tags: fluff, early relationship described, vague-pining 

notes: this is probably just for me… but if anyone enjoys it then ill endeavor to continue it in some fashion. No note beyond that i just really really really like stanley.

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked my new masterlist of parts concerning this one-shot turned series. thank you, and enjoy!

word count: 2.3k

| masterlist | part ii |

 His earliest memories of her are hastily intertwined with the abrupt disappearance of his estranged brother. 

There is a sudden break in his memory, between following Ford to the crumbling shack’s basement, to returning upstairs without him, and eventually opening the door to her very hazarded face. 

Her head had been engulfed by a too-big hat, hair matted and stringily stuck to her flushed face, thanks to the bitter winds that racked northern Oregon that winter. She had hauled ass from the “middle-of-nowhere” bus stop to in-town, to the shack. Miles, he had presumed, and her wet socks had solidified the fact. 

If he had known she would appear at the shack's front entrance not even a week after Ford had disappeared before his very eyes, then he would count himself lucky for the forewarning, because she made in through the front door like a tidal wave. 

He eventually welcomed the intrusion, of course, but it took not even 10 minutes for his hackles to rise after she implored at the whereabouts of his long-gone brother. Unfortunately for Stanley, she never once bought the practiced lie that he was Stanford. A lie that he only had the courage to voice now, but it fell weak on her ears. Of course, she had known poindexter… and of course, she had no inkling of Stanley’s own existence. Stanford had never spoken of his no-good brother then. Another nail in the coffin, next to the nails Stanley had put there himself. 

She spoke only in bursts as if it pained her. Voice dry from the winter air. 

“Where is he?” She frantically waved a pressed paper around, previously having been folded up in her pocket. “He asked for me, so where is he? Where is that idiot?” 

“Look hun, I have no idea what you're talking about.” Hands dragging through his too-long hair. “I’m him, he’s me, now what did I send ya again?” He moves to reach for the paper, but she crumbles it in her mittened hands, clutching it like a lifeline. 

His lie is weak, but he could do without the intrusion after the long week of attempting to compile his brother's ramblings in that god-forsaken journal. 

He didn’t even know her name for fucks sake. 

This was never the fault point in his lie to her though. Because she knew instinctually that he was not Ford, and that was all that mattered conclusively to her in the end. They shared features, that was something she could not easily deny. The same curve of their jawlines, the same texture of hair, the same set eyes, but she knew simply by the way he talked that this was not her former colleague. 

Her colleague was not nearly as broad-chested as the man in front of her. Not as sure-footed as the man in front of her, and despite them both sharing obvious features, wasn’t as striking as the figure painted in front of her. 

Unfortunately for her predicament, the man in front of her made her nervous, suddenly. Whether it was the sudden realization that she had entered this random man’s home, or that she was entranced by the way the distant kitchen light lit his features. She was unsure. 

Looking back at the paper, and then again at his large outstretched hand, she admitted defeat to her curiosity surrounding him. She would need a cup of coffee. 

Sighing, she brought the paper back to its original place in her pocket. Taking off her hat, her shoulders began to droop. She had walked miles, and she would get an explanation from him no matter what. 

“Do… do you have any coffee?” 

Movement in the shack was constant. 

He was used to the usual up and down the basement stairs nowadays, and the usual venture from room to room also. 

The woman had a habit of nesting. Much like his own mother. 

She constantly had to move things, change around Ford’s shitty sci-fi bullshit, and rearrange cupboards. The first month she took to doing it he figured it was her way of simply coping with the reality of their shitty situation, but after the third month, he changed his toon. 

My god was she short, but oddly fucking mighty. 

It was on the third month he had caught her rearranging the livingroom finally. It had been the most intimidating room in the shack, thanks to the mud-soaked 80’s carpet, and the mysterious tanks that Ford just had to store upstairs for some reason. 

Luckily in their cohabitation, they both agreed that Ford’s stuff all needed to be moved from out of site. Not really for them per se, but more so so they could both catalog all his bullshit. Cataloging was something she insisted on, so he got very used to random sticky notes with her small handwriting. He would admit that his knees began to ache not too many weeks ago from the constant movement of Ford’s shit to the basement, but he more or less refused to let her assist in the move when it came to walking down the very steep flight of stairs. 

He didn’t want her to fall, okay? 

He didn’t want anything to happen really, in regards to her. He tried to separate genuine feelings when it came to her presence in general. So when they eventually parted ways, it wouldn’t feel like another nail. 

But she had to goddamn move everything in this house, and he got the distinct feeling she didn’t enjoy the fact that none of it was really theirs to move. She had insisted though, one night, that it was important that they made themselves comfortable. 

“I’ll take the goddamn fall for this, mmk Stanley?” A slight upturned smirk on her lips. “Ford can yell at me all he likes, but if we are stuck here for some time let's not live like he’s just around the corner.” 

Despite his constant bickering about her and the stairs though, he found her upstairs one evening, attempting to move the long three-person couch from one of the rooms to the downstairs living room. 

She blushed, caught red-handed. “Okay okay, but this would be better downstairs in front of the T.V., no?” 

He tisked, hands on his hips. “And ya’ just couldn’t wait, huh.” 

She laughed while he reached for the other end, cursing under his breath. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute.” 

The couch did make it downstairs, but not without some cursing, teamwork, and some pinched fingers when taking it around the bend to the top of the stairs. Stanley leading in front, holding the majority of the weight the entire way. Not that he would tell her that. 

The couch made a home in front of the tiny box T.V. that they had, and they both enjoyed the comfort it brang. The shag carpet wasn’t as comfy to sit on as the couch. 

They both sat with a grunt, after adjusting the long couch. 

“Ah, now this I could get used to.” He flung himself onto the couch, closest to the back door. 

Popping down, she made her home on the other end. “Mhmmm. Good plan, good decision, go team!” Her hand extended out for a fist bump from him. 

His hand dwarfed her own as he met her in the middle. 

She was smart, he realized, too smart for the likes of him.

She was quick as a whip for sure, with knowledge of a hodge-podge of things, and half the time she talked when they were both downstairs he didn’t have a clue what she was saying. He hated it down here at times, her rambling reminding him of his faintly forgotten childhood. She was so different in the basement. She was so different from when she was upstairs. Like she turned it on and off. 

She herself knew that Stanely probably didn’t understand most of what Ford had been doing, but at times she felt she understood even less so. So she spoke it to him, to fill some void when they were down there. The void being Ford, of course, the bridge between the two.

She couldn’t help but get the inkling that Stanley did not think fondly of the basement, whether it was due to her ramblings, or because this was essentially his brother's coffin, she didn’t wish to ask. It was the one thing she hadn’t bothered to voice yet. 

He had been assisting with moving the portal's original structure all week. She needed the area cleared, to properly reassemble the shape of the portal and then lift it to its original place on the basement wall. The pulley mechanism was hastily drawn out somewhere in the control room,  but she also needed a proper understanding of the material's weight and durability to calculate the simple engineering equation. 

Of course, she attempted to do this without looking up from her scribbles. 

Stanley’s movement around the basement set her on edge. The sweat-soaked tank top, the curly messy hair, the broadness of his chest, the god-damn grunting as he moved material around. 

I mean, okay, she had asked him to do this specifically, but she… was beginning to forget why exactly she had. She had also offered assistance, too, which he shrugged off like he had the furniture.

Right, yes the weight she needed the weight. 

“Umm Stanley, have you been able to find in the journal what kind of material this is?”

He grunted, metal falling to the wayside as he turned to her. “Nah Doc, couldn’t find shit.” He lifted his tanktop end, dabbing at his forehead. “But I can tell you one thing, ain’t like anything I’ve seen before.” 

“Hmmm. You are right, this is almost too heavy to be normal steel, and it seems Ford didn’t exactly weld these pieces together. There’s no evidence of tig welding traditionally used.” 

He moved closer, his hand on his hip, the other extended. 

“Lemme check the diagram again, he leaves weird shit in the ledgers all the fucking time.” 

His hand grazing her own, she passes over the journal. 

He flips to the part of the portal page they have access to, his fingers meeting his tongue as he flicks from page to page. Contemplatively, his hand rests on his chin, and the entirety of the book rests in his own hand. 

Leaning over like that, he takes her breath for a moment. 

“See here.” He grabs her forearm, pulling her back in front of the journal still in his grasp. “He writes this cryptic message in the ledgers around the drawing, but it cuts off because we only got one part of this bullshit.” 

She sighs deeply, her hand running through her hair multiple times. 

“Fucking hell Ford goddamn it.” She quickly rethinks, hands waving to push Stanley back a bit. So she can breathe again. “I’m sorry, really, I just mean-” 

His laugh is low and shakes his shoulders until his head falls forward, his hand meeting her own on his chest. 

Breath gone, again. 

“Doc, ain’t no way we gonna get this done unless we curse him out from time to time.” His hand engulfs hers, making her form a fist he brings it to his head, knocking his temple. “I curse him too from time to time, but usually up here.” 

“Stanley, I really am sorry. I just-” A sigh, a shake of her shoulders. “I wanna know what the hell he was thinking, Stanley, I wanna understand I really do, but I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know what to do.” 

Three months of rearranging upstairs combined with the two additive months spent in the basement had drained her, and he knew it. 

She was different down here, changed. That’s why he fucking hated it down here. Because it upset her like this. She was too pale down here, too weary, and too goddamn self-conscious. 

The thing that had plagued him for so long, the inadequacy he felt all his life when compared to his other half, was seeping into her subconscious. Ford wasn’t even fucking here, and he had somehow made her feel less than. He had been working all his life to feel equal to him, but that was his own cross to bear, and his own nail to hammer. Not hers.

He didn’t think much of letting go of her hand, in favor of grabbing her chin. Tears made trails down her dirty round cheeks, eyes wide. He thinks she stole his breath for a minute. 

“Now listen here Doc, you ain’t gotta do this alone. I never wanted you to do this fucking alone, that’s not why I told you everything.” He takes a step forward. “I told you everything because I know we can figure this out.” 

She sniffles, moving closer, leaning into the warmth of his hand. Her own curled up into his dirty tank top, journal forgotten on the floor in favor of comfort. 

“It’s gonna take some time.” She mutters under her breath, only answered by the laugh in his chest. 

“Don’t I fucking know it Doc.” A pause. “But… I mean at least we got each other, right?” 

A smile blooms on her face, her heart slowing under the struggling reassurance Stanley was attempting to bring. 

“Mmm, yeah.” Sniffling, and nodding. “Ya, I have you Stanley.” 

“And I you, Doc.” 

He steps closer, encasing her in his large arms, her head making a home in his shoulder. He was warm, she noted, and strong under her withering confidence. 

His hand reaches up, knocking on her temple. “You can’t be calling me Stanley while we are upstairs, I hope ya know.” 

She nods in his chest. Only down here can he be Stanley to her now, even in her mind. 

[bloomingjungwon]

please write a heeseung college!au !!!! ♡♡

college!au heeseung

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you for requesting! sorry if this is so long, i kind of got carried away and i was kind of inspired by one of my favorite blogger's writing style

major: cinematography (don't ask why, i can just imagine him being so into making motion pictures)

he'd probably minor in like north american or woman studies tbh

i can see him as a really quiet, doesn't involve himself in too many things, kind of student

doesn't really speak up when it isn't needed

but if it's a topic he's really familiar with, you can't shut him up

definitley the type of student to sit in the very front even if the classroom has like a billion seats left open

i also see him as the type to never be in the library, he usually just studies out on the grass or in a very underrated cafe.

lives off of coffee to the point his roomate!jake tells him he smells like coffee 25/8

you know how gym freaks take a shot of like protein powder before their workout? yeah that's him but with ground up coffee beans if he is in a rush and doesn't want to wait for his coffee to brew.

it's kinda funny, you don't know heeseung, and he doesn't know you. but you pass each other almost everyday because you also go to the same cafe as him.

like youre always leaving as he enters and like????

hello how r u not noticing such an amazing human being

but dont worry, ya'll meet some day

you're walking across your campus and the bulletin board catches your attention

amongst all the papers screaming "tutor needed" or "join our club", theres a flier SMACK DAB in the middle

"class do20 presents mini films at flint theatre this friday!"

and like, that peaks your interests

because you've always appreciated people's works

but you're kinda just standing in the middle of the walkway and staring at it , you don't realize someone standing next to you

"are you going to go and watch?"

you nearly jumped out of your skin cause like, who tf just talks to someone without getting their attention first

heeseung does

and now he's just staring at you waiting for an answer

"uh,, yeah seems kind of interesting. why? are you?"

"i have no choice to. i'm a part of it, i just haven't started on my film yet."

.... homie, the show is on friday and it's currently tuesday

silence

no words or expressions are exchanged and you're just staring awkwardly at each other

but in reality, you two are just silently admiring each other's features

"do you want to be a part of my film?"

your blank expression turned into a "wtf" kind of expression

"you want me, a complete stranger, to be a part of your film?"

he proceeds to tell you that it'll be a lot easier for him to work with a stranger since he'd most likely not mess around

because this boy needs to get his assignment done asap

and you kind of hesitate but then you're like "well, fuck it. sure"

and then he smiles. and holy

this guy has one of the most captivating smiles ever and you literally feel your heart stop for a small second

"let's get started today, if that's okay with you?" he suggests

and you agree and tell him you have one more class, but he can meet you at a cafe you're usually at

and now it's his turn for his heart to skip a beat because he's talking to an attractive person who just willingly agreed to help him on his project AND goes to the same underrated cafe???

but before he can say anything.. you're already walking away

and now he's just standing there dumb and love struck

but yeah heeseung is already at the cafe thirty min early while he waits for you, camera out facing the door, waiting for you to enter

catches you on film as you walk inside and he kinda just watches you in awe as you're scanning the room to find where he is

you give him a small smile and wave and in that moment, heeseung knew what title he was giving his film

you take your seat and you're like "so, what would you like me to do?"

and heeseung just asks you to do whatever you would usually do at the cafe

and you're like oh sweet. that's easy.

so you ask him what kind of coffee he wants and when he tells you, you stand up to leave and order coffee

he films everything

from you standing in line awkwardly, you picking at your nails, scrolling through your phone, ordering... literally everything

you come back holding both cups (which of course he films too)

"i usually just do my homework while i'm here, but i don't have a lot today"

"that's fine. you can just do it, and if it's okay, i can ask you questions to get to know you better."

"yeah that's okay with me. i can multitask well. i think."

that earns you a chuckle from him

he angles the camera at the end of the end of the table, focusing on you

and ya'll just do homework together and learn new things about each other

like how you eat pizza with a fork and knife because you refuse to get your hands dirty

which heeseung reacts with "do you need professional help?"

but homie blurts out he lives and breathes off of ramen noodles and his roomate!jake has to restock for him every two days

and you're like.... "you're the one who needs professional help."

and for a couple hours

you guys are just goofing around and talking to each other as if you've known each other for years

homework done, three cups of coffee later, heeseung's camera runs out of battery so he calls it a day

chooses the next location to film

a dog park

so the next day, classes done, you meet him at the dog park, and even brought your dog

films you throwing tennis balls, petting dogs, and even you getting chased by a dog

laughs throughout the whole filming process but then internally regrets it because he notices it could probably be heard in the video

breaks it to you that he has enough content for his project

and lowkey youre kind of sad because you've had fun being around him the past two days but you keep it to yourself

"i'm glad i could help. i can't wait to see it heeseung."

loves the way you say his name and now he's sad too because he doesn't really have an excuse to hang out with you more

so ya'll part ways after saying bye

but it's not some dramatic "i'm never going to see them again"

cause ya'll run into each other again at the cafe the next day

and it's kind of unspoken but ya'll just silently agree to sit down with each other and work on homework

you, reading out of your textbook, and him working diligently on his laptop (shh he's editing his film)

and you kind of steal glances his way and he's just smiling to himself as he works

and that's because he loves the way his film is coming along, and he loves seeing you

because in that moment, you both realize you have feelings for each other

but once again it's unspoken cause you're both scaredy cats

you call it a day and say bye and him back

you guys don't see each other until the night of the film show

and you're like okay i'll tell him i have feelings for him after the show

little did you know, he was thinking the same thing about you

but he's up in the film booth sweating his ass off because he knows you're somewhere in the crowd

and all of a sudden he doesn't want to be there

"what if they don't like me in that way?" "what if they take my video the wrong way?"

internally and externally panics

but before he can grab his cd and break it, the lights turn off and oh shit the show is starting

tbh, the films from the other students were quite interesting and you were enjoying each one

but this uncomfortable feeling was forming in the pit of your stomach

were you anxious? nervous?

idk but you were anticipating heeseung's film

and finally on the screen appeared heeseung's picture and biography

you didn't even notice the smile growing on your face

you thought to yourself, what did he even name his film?

"love through my eyes"

....love??

does heeseung have feelings for me too? or did they switch up someone's film with his??

but nope, there was no switch up

you watched yourself on the screen, from you smiling at him at the first moments in the cafe, to you laughing at his eating habits, and to you being chased by the dog, audibly hearing heeseung's giggles

but you thought it was over until there were more clips of the both of you in the cafe

however, they weren't from the first meeting. the clothes you both were wearing were different

wait, isn't this from two days ago? he filmed us that day?

from a hidden angle, the camera caught you two stealing glances at each other when the other wasn't paying attention.

you looked at him with stars in your eyes, and when you went back to your textbook, he stole glances at you as if your were his entire universe

speechless, the film ended, and with his film being last, the show ended and the lights turned back on

you didn't even applaud, for you ran out of the building immediatley, looking for heeseung

and there he is at the entrance of the theatre just staring at his feet

looks up when you hear him running up to him

"so... the film" he starts

but you don't let him finish because you pull him by the shirt and kiss him

and he's shocked because what the fuck they're kising me?!?!

but relaxes and kisses you back

and yeah, that's how your relationship starts

and expect him to film you at random times

would probably treasure "love through my eyes" and play it as a surprise at your guys' wedding in the future

im crying

[dreamingmanip]

“MADNESS LOVE” PART 2

*GIF NOT MINE*

You can find part 1 here.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warnings: None (if I need one let me know in my ask!)

Prompt: NONE

Word Count: 2,026

A/N: Hi guys! Like I said before, this is part 2 of 3 for this imagine. I loved this fic so much I could’t stop writing. I hope you liked it, like always if you like this, please like it and reblog it. This would be pin on my page so you can find it without problems.

The tears kept rolling down your face all the way home, you didn't bother to wipe them away when you met your neighbor in the lobby, asking you if you were okay. You weren't, you were holding yourself to not break down in the middle of the hallway, making a scene. 

Your keys jingled while you opened the front door, your hands trembling; you shut the door behind you. There was some light coming from outside the window but mostly it was dark,and that's how you felt, as if somebody took the light inside you leaving you blind. You leaned you back on the door, your body sliding down to the cold floor, sitting there looking at nothing. A cell phone started ringing in the distance but you didn't want to move. Your eyes fluttered trying to focus in the dark, searching in your jacket for it, the screen on the phone  glowed  and illuminated your face, Jay's name showed up, and the killing pain came back to your chest just looking at his name, so you decided to turn it off. 

God knows how long you were there until you decided to stand up and go to your room to take a shower, put on some pajamas and grabbed the bottle of wine that was in the back of your fridge taking it to your room. Jay's words echoing in your head, over and over again.

Did he commit to his job, to his Unit, that he was fine letting you go? His words were etched in your mind. Of course you understood the full situation, he was right; you were the new still, not a detective, but that wasn't what was hurting you, it was realizing how he believed you both could never say anything because your jobs were more important. 

Somehow you fell asleep before finishing the bottle of wine. The clock on your nightstand began to chime, it seemed that you had barely fallen asleep. Your room was still dark thanks to the curtains but some rays of sun could creep in. You stretched out your hand to turn off the alarm, and at the same time, your cell phone began to ring, you probably turned it on again in the middle of the night, you were a cop and sometimes you did stuff automatically; you raised it a little to be able to answer.

"Hello?"

“Hey Y/N, please don’t tell me you were still in bed.”

Your voice was a little croaky when you spoke.

“Uhm, no I wasn’t. My throat feels weird this morning, so… yeah.”

Kim’s voice was joyful even on the phone, you turned to see the clock, in a bright green color it said “8:15 AM”. You sat up immediately, moving the soft sheets wrapped on your body away while Kim was still talking.

“...So I called Kevin and we decided to bring you some donuts and your favorite coffee before the event. We’re 10 minutes away.”

“Fuck”.

You murmured getting in the bathroom. Kim looked at Kevin a little concerned.

“Sorry Kim, I spilled some water on the table but, uhm, yeah. See you in 10”.

Ending the call, you got in the shower, didn’t even wait for the warm water so you screamed a little feeling the coldness on your skin. The fastest shower you ever took in your life, leaving you with only five minutes to get dressed up and do your hair. 

You were in the final touches of your makeup when a few small knocks on the front door warned you of the arrival of Burgess and Atwater. Taking one last look at the mirror to put a smile on your face before one of them would notice something, you felt anxious and devastated and trying to hide it from officers and detectives required a lot of self control.

Both of your friends smiled when you opened the door, Kim was holding a little box with cartoon drawings of donuts on the top while Kevin was offering you a cup of your favorite coffee. All of you wearing uniforms.

“Thanks guys, I barely ate something this morning”.

You took the coffee from Kevin’s hand, taking a little sip before walking out of your apartment, closing the door behind you. The three of you were talking about random stuff all the way to the car and to the downtown, well, Kim was the one talking with Kevin, you were mentally preparing yourself to see Jay, it wasn’t working at all.

“So Y/N, Jay called me last night, which was a little weird if I have to admit, he asked me about you”.

Kim was looking at you through the view rear mirror, you blinked a couple of times without saying anything. Why did Jay call Kim to ask her for you? You had no idea and that's exactly what you said.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I was at home last night. He’s weird sometimes you know that.”

“I know, right? He asked me if you were with me last night but we were at Molly’s. Adam, Hailey, Kevin and I, we miss you by the way.”

Kevin looked at you, knowing something went wrong between you and Jay.

“We invited Halstead to celebrate but he said he was busy filling some forms for Trudy after shift.”.

“Well, I don’t know him so well. I think he prefers to be alone. Look, the press is here too”.

You passed some news cars, reporters were setting their cameras to get a better view. Jay hated this, he wasn’t comfortable seeing his face on the paper just for doing his job and also Voight taught them that when his unit was formed, and everyone did almost the same.

You got out of the car after Kevin parked near the place. Hailey was the first who noticed you, she raised her hand and started to wave it. You smiled, Kim was doing the same and started walking towards her, Kevin patted your shoulder making you go slowly.

“What happened last night? Jay called me too, he said he was worried about you”.

“Well, he doesn't have to do that anymore. We’re done”. 

“Wait, what?”

Kevin stopped for a moment, that news caught him by surprise.

“Y/N, are you sure of this? Don’t get me wrong, I’ll support any decision you make, all the way, but I know your feelings. Working together could get harder.”

You nodded your head, you knew it. It was going to get hard in every possible way, seeing him every morning not able to steal a kiss from each other at the coffee room or staying up watching a movie with your head on his chest; suddenly a bunch of memories came back to your mind, you shook your head slowly, you gave him a side smile.

“Kev, I got this. I’m gonna be fine. C’mon”.

You bumped his arm with yours while you reached out to Hailey and Kim, for a moment Hailey looked at you and nodded, Jay talked to her too. You nodded back to her.

A few moments later, Voight and Trudy joined you. In the place there were a small, but considerable, number of people but no matter how much you searched with your eyes, you could not find Jay. The coordinators asked you to take your seats, for obvious reasons the Intelligence Unit was in the front row, it wasn't until that moment that you could see Jay in his uniform, you had always liked the way he looked in it. However, he didn't seem very happy, he seemed calm but you noticed the pressure on his jaw, his straight shoulders and his gaze in front of him, but he wasn't looking at you.

He was sitting next to some superiors in the platform in front of you. The Superintendent stepped up to the microphone to start his speech, some photographers started to point their cameras to the people and then to the "big hero". 

The ceremony wasn't too long, you all met in the back while reporters were asking now questions to some people. Voight was smiling, which was rare, while Jay was walking towards the group. 

Adam was the first to talk, and like always, started to make some jokes. 

"There he is, the super cop Jay Halstead. The man of the year!"

He padded Jay's shoulder, he had a shy smile on his lips. Uncomfortable by all the attention he was receiving. 

"Thanks Ruzek, I think the cartel in Mexico didn't hear you". 

Everybody laughed, including you. Jay looked at you for a moment, actually felt more like 2 seconds. 

"Alright, let's go back to the district and back to work. We can celebrate later at Molly's". 

Voight spoke and all dismissed to the cars, you went with Kevin again, this time Kim decided to ride with Ruzek, the awkward sensation was still there so she didn't want it to push it further and make you uncomfortable. Once inside the car, you kept quiet all the way, Kevin knew you were lying but he also knew how you dealt with a broken heart. 

You went to the locker room and just arrived at the district, it was too damn warm to keep it all day, also it was used just for events like this. When you got to the door you spotted Hailey, she was putting her badge on her belt. You kept your head down, trying to avoid her, you greet her with a quiet voice. 

"Uhm Y/N, can I talk to you for a moment?" 

"Yeah, sure."

Hailey closed the door and crossed her arms on her chest, her  cautious blue eyes looking back at you. 

"Look, when Jay told me he was dating you, I told him it was stupid. Not worth it if your careers could be over just for a romance that could last just a few months". 

You knew Hailey, she was a bad ass woman and probably didn't say it to her so often but you admire her. She was serious, she didn't like to play games when it comes to her friends. 

"I'm sorry for telling you this, but that was before seeing how good you are together as partners and as a couple. I was scared for both of you because I love you and I care about you. I'm not on Jay's side or your side, left me out that but Y/N, it's not easy to Jay open his heart like he did with you. He doesn't want to lose you and I guess the only way he can control that feeling it's not letting anybody know about it. Forgive me if I was a little obtrusive". 

You didn't notice there were a few tears on your cheek, cleared your throat to be available to speak but you failed at finding the right words, it took you a few seconds to speak. 

"It's okay Hailey, but what about me? What about my feelings? I know Jay is right, we could lose our jobs but, why make me feel like his dirty secret?"

Hailey took a few steps closer, her blue eyes now looking sad.

"Of course your feelings are valid. Don't get me wrong, I have been in that position before and it's not easy. All I'm saying is, you shouldn't leave things unspoken, this stuff gets heavy later."

She hugged you tight, rubbing your back. You held her too, she knew what she was talking about, you never asked before 'cause she was very private but you believed her at anything she said. 

After changing your clothes, you came back to the bullpen, nobody was talking, you sat at your chair and looked around; it seemed like everybody was tense for no reason. Voight was in his office and the unit was on some paperwork. You felt someone looking at you, directly. There was no need to look up, you knew Jay was looking at you from time to time. You haven’t talked to each other yet, you needed to, but that wasn’t the right place.

Tagged some beautiful people ✨:

@itsdesiree86 @mrspeacem1nusone  @anotherfan07 @thestarrynightslover

[somedrunkpirate]

learn the dead | Arthur/Eames

Read here on ao3 or continue below Tags: Presumed Dead, First Time, Angst with a happy ending, pining Rating: T Wordcount: 5,4k 

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

Everything checks out. 

The hospital records, the police report, even the fucking local news because, to quote scruffy looking anchor, with a stutter no less, “There has— sn’t been an lethal acc—sident for over ten years on this s—street.” 

The information is bare-bones, but that isn’t remarkable for an open and shut case like this: drunk driver meets tree trunk. Happens a thousand times a year, and will continue to happen whether you make a fuss out of it or not. Write down the licence plate, try (and fail) to inform relatives, do the paperwork and get home on time for dinner for once. Simple as pie. 

Except. Except Arthur wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have driven drunk. His stick reaches too far up his ass to do something so utterly reckless in reality. 

That thought is what had spurred Eames to begin his search— there had to be something, anything, that could explain the whole bullshit situation. Even if that something is a hit, covered up like an accident. Then at least Eames would have some to blame— Someone to kill. 

But everything checks out. 

Even that initial discrepancy. Arthur couldn’t have been drunk, but after many phone calls and bribes, Eames had learned what Arthur could have been. 

He could have been high. 

His last job had been an experimental trial. Not with a chemist Eames knew. An academic who had shit his pants when Eames barged in with a smile as sharp as a knife— and a knife in his hand, of course. Wouldn’t do to be less than intimidating in this case. The chemist had spluttered into a rant Eames had understood half of, so he’d called Yusuf and held the phone up without responding to the cursing at being awoken in the middle of the night. But he’d caught on quickly, started to ask questions Eames wouldn’t have thought to ask. Then more, sharper. With a hiss.  

“What is he saying?” Eames had asked, after the chemist had run out of breath. 

“Eames—“ 

The way Yusuf sounded, a sigh more than an utterance. The tone of his voice as it tried to fold in pity— badly. Yusuf was never quite made for compassion. Though the attempt had been enough to haunt Eames’ nightmares since. 

“Eames. He’s dead.” 

The confirmation had come without fanfare in the end. Eames didn’t even kill the chemist, after. It hadn’t been his fault that the mix Arthur had taken voluntarily turned out to suppress reflexes when tired. Not tired as they would call it— after a rush job, when exhaustion nipped at your heels. Just tired; about to drink a cup of coffee tired. Arthur probably hadn’t even felt any different until it was too late. But it had been raining, and he’d been driving for more than six hours. It was no one’s fault that Arthur had lost control over the vehicle just in front of the only tree in a three mile radius.There had been a rabbit flattened between the car and the bark. He’d probably been trying to save it. 

A fucking rabbit. 

Eames had hung up on Yusuf without a word. It had been the last time he’d spoken to anyone for a long time. 

Except that isn’t quite true. 

“Well, darling, you’ve gotten me in quite a pickle.” 

The grave doesn’t respond. It never does. 

— — — — —

If someone had told him that his reaction to Arthur’s death would be to stand before his grave every day for a month straight, he'd have laughed his lungs out of his chest. 

It would’ve been sad, of course, to see such a talented colleague go. He might even have gone on a bender for a week— drinking away the sorrows that come with a lost acquaintance— maybe a friend. But he’d have better things to do than indulge himself for longer than that. He’d been indulging himself with Arthur for far too long, and death should have been the end to it. 

Because he had been thinking about it, sometimes, when he was feeling fanciful. You would have had to be blind not to see the chemistry. The push and pull that led to delicious flirtation — as much as Arthur wanted to deny it — and even more delicious dreamsharing. They made each other better and that was honestly the only thing Eames ever looked for, when, if ever, he thought about that nebulous concept of ‘settling down’. 

So yes, there would be something more to losing Arthur. Eames had known even then. It was losing that slight hint of potential. Though that is always a treacherous word. 

Because he never truly believed he’d make it that far— not just with Arthur, who would’ve laughed even harder if Eames were ever to confess his vague future plans for them — but with life in general. Why plan for something that would be cut short anyway? Even if Arthur could be persuaded to make something out of the spark between them, it would’ve been cruel to do so. Eames knew himself well. He wouldn’t have stopped taking risks, stop wanting more-- craving freedom like a drug. The idea to set Arthur up for inevitable heartbreak had been enough to avoid thinking about practical steps. A fantasy was fine. Eames got paid to live in them. He didn’t get paid for reality. 

So, Arthur’s death would of course be sad. But it shouldn’t have been more than another scar on his back— the punishment of the trade he chose, along with a whisper of nostalgia at losing a construct of his imagination. Even he wouldn’t have had the heart to keep the fantasy of a dead man alive for his own entertainment. A week, a few drinks, and it should’ve been over. 

It shouldn’t have destroyed him. 

“I just never thought I’d be the one left behind, darling,” Eames says to the wet dirt below him. It feels off to tell the headstone itself— the name is fake. Aaron Fister. Arthur had thrown a knife past his head when Eames had shown him the forged papers. To say he regrets the joke now is an understatement. 

“In all fairness, it should’ve been you here, it would make more sense for you to fall in love with me, once I’m not there to bother you anymore. Absentia makes the heart go fonder, hmm?” 

The dirt seems to be judging him. It’s good that some things never change. 

“I know— I know it's hypocritical. I didn’t even— I didn’t even love you. It was just a game. A fun thing to theorise about when the goings got tough. Would you be as snappish if we lived together? Would you forgive me faster if I sucked you off? Would you kiss me goodbye in the airport?” Eames stops himself, and rubs a hand over his face, groaning. “It’s humiliating, darling. I should’ve just gotten off at the thought of you like half of the dreamshare community was doing. Hand on or in their whatever and imagine you moaning next to them. But I had to be pathetic about it. Though this is reaching new heights, I must say.” 

He leaves, abruptly sick of himself. He comes back the next day, as always. 

Some days, though, Eames doesn’t devolve into confessions that make the little old ladies passing by their lost friend’s grave raise their eyebrows and linger by a random grave to listen anyway. 

Some days, Eames is angry. 

The first time, he breaks his toe in the process. 

“You bloody cunt!” He’s aware that he’s shouting, but he doesn’t stop. “Never experiment alone! Isn’t that what you fucking say to the newbies? You need someone to be a baseline. Someone who can bring you home safe. You fuck. Why didn’t you call me. Why didn’t you fucking—“ 

Kicking the gravestone had not been his best idea, but the pain of it brings a rush of satisfaction. There is— so much, inside of him. Eames is drowning in it, and the throb in his feet cuts right through it. Clarity. He kicks again. 

“You fucking bastard.” 

The old ladies have gone from curious to concerned now. Eames hobbles away, hissing, before he gets a restraining order on a grave. 

The next day he’s back, a bottle of whiskey in hand, and finds himself apologising. 

“I know— I never made it quite clear that you could call me, for stuff like that. That I would pick up. Maybe I wouldn’t have. Or no, I would have, but I might not have bothered for that. The jobs— I knew how to handle you on the job. But outside of that. I don’t think I would’ve had the courage. I wouldn’t think that way then, of course. Convince myself that I’m above errand runs like that. Throw you a bone recommending some up and coming kid I knew or something— intern type, for all that we have those here. But I don’t think I would’ve come. So it isn’t your fault. You made a mistake, not getting back-up, but it isn’t your fault. You didn’t know you had any. And I didn’t dare to believe I could be yours. That you would let me. That it wouldn’t end in disaster.” 

Eames leans against the cold stone and sighs. “’Suppose it has, already. Would’ve been too good to have it end any other way.” 

— — — — —

When Eames isn’t in a graveyard, or in a bar, he’s in the warehouse. 

It had felt too… personal, to get a hotel room for this. To do his research in a living room, as opposed to the dreary, dusty and echoey spaces where most of their professional relationship had flourished. It’s too big for a one-man job, but Eames had managed to fill it up anyway. Boxes upon boxes of information, any trace of Arthur he could find. Every email, record, police report, college paper— printed and archived. Eames can find his way through the documents blind and drunk. Arthur has taken over every nook and cranny of the warehouse— and every nook and cranny of Eames’ mind. Eames has read everything, twice over. 

If Arthur had been alive to know, he would’ve killed him. 

Because Arthur had always been a private person, for all that he pries in the lives of clients and collaborators both. He was the one who asked the questions and rarely answered them. It had always been a luxury— a rare reward, to be thrown a scrap of information. He’d always said something with that slight subtle smile, like he knew the power his breadcrumbs of personal life held over others. Everyone ravenous for more intel on one of the greatest pointmen of their generation. 

How horrible is it then to revel in the mountains of information that Eames had been able to gather after his death. He’d always known he’d had enough pull to find something, and after the inception job he’d had more than enough cash to buy the rest. But he’d never done it; at first because of the wrath that would quickly follow. Then because he’d known it would tarnish Arthur’s trust in him— something he’d wanted to protect at all costs. And then lastly — but maybe from the start — because it was so much more thrilling to learn bit by bit, piece by piece. To earn his knowledge of Arthur, and to ensure that his curiosity would never run out. He’d become slightly addicted to the feeling. 

But now, with no one left to tell, it had only taken the excuse of the suspicious circumstances of his death for Eames to turn into the hoarder he’d always known he could be. It had gotten to a point where new packages arrived every so often— criminals even beyond dreamshare having caught wind of an individual willing to invest heavily on any information. Someone had even hacked the pentagon to get classified documents. From the message on the box, the hacker thought they were helping a spy of some kind. Eames had sent him enough bitcoin to blow wind in the direction of that particular fire hearth of urban legend. He’d rather have people think there is a whole network of people digging into this, than anyone realising it’s in truth only one pathetic man. 

So Eames drinks. Eames talks to a grave. And Eames reads. It only takes him two boxes until Arthur makes him laugh for the first time since the car crash. It was due to a spirited essay on the importance of open source information that was clearly written to spite the professor leading the course, who’d been forced to give it an A+ regardless. Eames had chuckled, imagining the self-righteous satisfaction of this young Arthur as he got his grade back, and then began crying. Not to grieve the loss of a future he hadn’t realised how much he wanted, as is his wont, these days. But from the unfairness of it all. That a person like this, who had so much to say in this world, should’ve been taken so early, and in such a meaningless way. 

Arthur would’ve denied it, but Eames knows he’d only be content with a death from sacrifice . He’d shown that side of him clearly when he jumped into Cobb’s mess headfirst and without hesitation. If Arthur had died from a bullet taken for Cobb, Ariadne, or maybe even Eames, he would’ve been at peace— or as much as you can while bleeding out. 

Eames had known that, but as he learns more and more of Arthur, he realises how true it is. How, despite everything, Arthur cannot stop himself from being a silent hero. There are so many instances where Arthur, behind the screens, helps someone. Whether it was connecting the right people to each other under the mum of a potential project, or taking jobs way below his pay grade because he sympathised with the client, Arthur did not let their line of work destroy the possibility to be kind, every once in a while. 

It’s not like he advertised it. He didn’t do it in a way people would recognize his actions— which was smart, as it could be seen as a weakness in their circles. But whenever the chance came along, even if it was to his own detriment, Arthur chose the rough road home if it would ease someone else’s way. 

And this, Eames realises, is the secret to his competency. All other pointmen are expert researchers through and through, but no one had the reach Arthur had. Arthur knew everything, and if he didn’t know, he knew someone who knew— and most importantly, someone who would tell him. Eames doesn’t even know if Arthur ever realised that it was his kindesses, in and out the community, which led him into such a position of power. His actions are too random and inconsistent to be a strategic scheme to build an empire. Some of his biggest successes are results of a nicety five or ten years ago, something that he might have forgotten doing, but the people receiving it definitely haven’t. 

On the surface Arthur had been known as cool and effective— someone with a distance to the rest of the world that resulted in a highly detailed overview of any situation, even if it brought a side of professionalism to even the most informal of interactions. The people who witnessed a more casual side of him were few and far in between, but even those came away with the impression that to Arthur, doing the job in the best way possible was the only drive to his actions. 

No one had seen every little thing he did that had no other reason at all besides that he could do them for someone.

Eames maps out everything on the walls of the warehouse. And when he stands back to take it all in, he realises that more than anyone, the person Arthur had silently helped was him. 

Everything he’d done for Cobb had been grand and obvious, but more out of loyalty to Mal and her children than kindness without any other motivation. And Ariadne’s training had been as much for the inception job than for herself— maybe introducing her to the life hadn’t been a kindness at all. Continuing after could be seen as one, even if you could argue that her honing her raw talent would directly result in better and more stable dreams in later jobs. 

But Eames— what Arthur had done for Eames—

Eames can’t think of a single reason besides just being plain nice. 

Because it hadn’t been like he needed to. Eames had made him very clear that he’d be down for almost any job Arthur put in front of him. Just him being himself had always been enough, he didn’t need to do him any favours to persuade him like everyone else did.

And maybe Arthur had gotten the memo, because he’d done Eames favours without ever telling him, and those you can’t pay back. Eames had no idea the reason he got out of that trouble in Chicago was because Arthur bailed him out— it was presented to him as a procedure mistake. And then there was the Telula job, with an extractor-architect team Eames had wanted to work with for ages, but the chemist they’d been looking to hire was someone from Eames’ not so smooth first years of dream-share and he’d almost cut out of the job to not be forced to confront that past. That was until the chemist suddenly dropped out with an offer he couldn’t refuse— an offer Arthur had been behind. 

There were so many things like that. Little things, small things— warehouses next to Eames’ favourite restaurants; nuggets of information given anonymously through the channels of dreamshare gossip to hit Eames’ ears right on time before a betrayal; a job a week delayed because of Eames’ mother’s funeral. 

It’s not like Eames had been the only one, but he was by far the most frequent of all of them. More and more so over the years, like Arthur had been finding more reasons to be nice to him, while Eames had still been stuck in his pathetic imaginations, blind to what was already in front of him. 

A friendship. 

He’d been so preoccupied with his own flights of fancy, that he only realises how close they had been all this time until it was too late to experience it. Too late to thank Arthur for everything he’s done. 

The agony of it— the longing. His heart thundering with the sudden need to have Arthur in his arms, alive and real and—

“Oh god. I love him.” 

Eames drinks until he can’t remember. He manages to avoid the grave for a little while, but he doesn’t last long. Inevitably he’s pulled back to the grave yard, whiskey in hand, ready to talk to the love he lost again. 

— — — — —

His cemetery  routine— because he has one of those now — is usually to be at the grave around noon. Late enough to roll out of bed reasonably comfortably after a long night of drinking and/or reading, but early enough for there to be time left to check the new documents coming along and pay the right people before they send thugs to his hideout. 

But this time the afternoon light shines golden over the rows and rows of headstones and Eames shivers in the Autumn breeze. The old ladies are all dressed in fur coats. He recognizes some of them, and wonders if they noticed he was gone. None of them greet him as he passes, so he assumes not. 

Eames takes another sip of his bottle, allowing his feet to lead him over the familiar path up the hill, and then he drops his bottle all together. 

A man is standing before the grave. 

Tall, hunched a little in the wind. Long coat and thick black beanie. Nondescript. Anonymous. 

He does not turn as Eames nears. 

“You’re late.” 

Eames’ hand is on his gun at the first syllable, but before he can put it on his temple a leather gloved hand snatches it from his fingers. The clip ejects with a decisive click. 

Arthur gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t be dramatic. We don’t need a scene.” 

His face— a little gaunt. His eyes— tense, intent, darker than they should be. Eames doesn’t recognize the coat. But he’s there, pressed in close to hide the gun between their bodies. His breath— warm, hits Eames’ cheek. It isn’t— It can’t. He can’t be breathing because he’s—

Eames squeezes his eyes shut and thinks of metal against the palm of his hand, the smell of gunpowder. 

A sigh falls between them. “It won’t work. This isn’t a dream, Eames.” 

The hell it isn’t. “Experimental somacin, three levels.” 

Raised eyebrows shouldn’t be audible only through speech. “Do you remember how you got here?” 

Eames opens his eyes and says, “Deep immersion dream.” 

Arthur huffs at that. “Do you really think they’ve been keeping you under for years? Fine. When have you last lost memories?” 

Oh, that’s easy. “Two days ago.” 

There is a pause, and Eames hates the fact that he can see the exact moment of tension in Arthur’s jaw that signals him suppressing a question. It’s too detailed, too precise, too re—

“Later,” Arthur murmurs under his breath, almost to himself. Like later is a given between them. He seems frustrated. His eyes keep flicking to the side and his hand hovers near Eames’ arm, like he’s trying to keep himself from hurrying Eames along and is annoyed that Eames is stalling them. 

“I’m sorry darling,’” Eames drawls, “but in case it has escaped your notice: we are having this discussion on your fucking grave, so forgive me for being reasonably sceptical about the reality of this situation.” 

Arthur breathes out a deep sigh, clenched teeth. “Eames, think about it, is there any forger you know capable of forging me in a way you can’t see through it? Or for that matter, is there anyone who would dare to try steal from the fucking person who invented the craft?” 

No. The answer is no. It hits Eames with a muffled weight. He wonders what his face is doing, but whatever it is, Arthur responds to it with a curt nod. It suddenly strikes Eames as absurdly hilarious, in the way only the most traumatic experiences can. 

“You know, complimenting me really doesn’t help with the reality argument. Never mind doing it twice. Death changed you, darling.” 

Arthur stills in the middle of putting the clip back in Eames’ gun. There is the slightest flicker of his lips, and he huffs. “Maybe it did— can I trust you not to shoot yourself the moment I hand this back?” 

“Come on now Arthur,” Eames says, “Don’t be so dramatic.” 

And there— there it is. Arthur rolls his eyes as he presses the gun into Eames’ waiting hands, and a part of Eames’ breaks with it. Still muffled, still numb, but something is lumbering closer. He can almost hear its laboured breaths. 

“There you are,” Eames says, smiling. “You don’t know how much I missed that.” 

It is a miracle he doesn’t choke on the words. 

“Glad to be remembered for something,” Arthur is saying, and now he’s pushing Eames— gently but with intent, away from the grave. “And I’d like to keep it that way, so we need to talk before your insatiable curiosity ruins everything I worked for.” 

Eames doesn’t know if it's the words, or the press of Arthur’s hand against his back— barely sensable beneath all the layers but even the slightest hint of pressure sets him alight— but all at once everything falls into place. 

“You faked your death.” 

“Have you always been this slow on the uptake?” 

Eames barely hears him. Reality is roaring and there is space for nothing else. Arthur isn’t dead. Arthur isn’t dead. They’re standing on Arthur’s grave— an empty grave. A lie. A trick. He’s been fooled because Arthur isn’t dead, he’s right here. He’s touching him because he isn’t— 

Arthur isn’t. He isn’t. 

He’s alive. 

Eames doesn’t say anything the rest of the way to wherever. If Arthur speaks, he doesn’t strain to listen. Because Arthur isn’t dead and if he hears anything at all he’s either going to scream or kick the shit out of him just like he did on that stupid fucking grave— just to check that this one isn’t made of stone but flesh and blood and he is alive.

His fists hurt from clenching by the time they enter a hotel room. Something of the turmoil must have reached Arthur because he’s gone quiet. The roar lets off the very moment the door clicks closed and Arthur stands before it, uncertain, almost as if he regrets closing off his only exit. His expression is one Eames knows very well— preparing himself for a fight he saw coming too late. But he isn’t reaching for his gun. He just stands there. 

He’s just waiting to take it. 

Eames kisses him. 

He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s—

A heartbeat feels more real when it’s underneath your lips. A pulse against a jaw— up, up to feel breath against breath. To hear the rush of it— a hitch of— of surprise. 

Strength— dead people don’t have strength and Arthur is pushing him so he can’t be dead. 

“Eames—“ 

Alive, alive, alive. 

“Eames! Wait!” 

Eames pushes closer. He places his forehead against Arthur’s, presses them both against the door. Arthur isn’t pushing him away anymore but his hands are still on his chest. Eames wonders if he can feel the beat of his heart. He hopes, quietly insane for a moment, that Arthur will never forget to make his heart beat as long as he is feeling one. As long as he’s given an example on how to live. 

“Eames,” Arthur says. A word, a question, a name. All in one. His eyes are wide. Breathing heavy— breathing, breathing, breathing— and he’s flushed. Sharp cheekbones stained red. Lips wet. 

Eames’ hands move of their own accord and cradle each side of Arthur’s face. 

“Let me, darling. Just let me.” 

Arthur breathes again. 

Eames trembles, trying to hold himself back. Trying to breathe. But one more moment and he will collapse and he can’t— he can’t risk it. He can’t risk losing another chance. He needs this as much as he needs Arthur to be alive. He needs to stop regretting not having done this when he could and now he can again and how can he let this undeserved second chance slip through his fingers. He has to. Please. He has to. 

Arthur’s mouth falls open. “Eames. Eames, it’s okay. You don’t have to— You don’t have to beg. It’s okay.” 

“Let me, Arthur,” Eames repeats, “Let me.” 

Arthur lets him. 

Arthur lets him do everything. 

— — — — —

It’s after when Arthur whispers, “I didn’t know.” 

His head is on Eames chest, moving ever so slightly when he breathes. In and out. Eames has his fingers tangled in his hair. The strands slip away when Arthur turns around to look up at him. 

“I didn’t know,” he says again. There is a rasp in his voice and his eyes are wet. Eames has never been apologised to like this before. Arthur sounds as if he believes sorry would be an insult, the word too small to encompass his regret. There is guilt there, in the flush of his cheeks, and the way he can’t seem to hold eye contact. His pupils flickering, microscopic twitches of shame. 

Sometimes he’d dream of this. Arthur’s return. A fantasy, a different one, yet still addictive like a drug. He’d expected to be angry, to want to spill his pain onto Arthur’s feet and watch him try and walk through it; burn in it. A stimulation of the magmatic life Eames has been living since his death. 

But now, face to face with an Arthur who is alive, Eames doesn’t want any of it. 

So he leans down, and kisses Arthur on the forehead, like a benediction, trying to extract the regret from his face. And he tells him, honest in a way he’s learned to be in the last scant weeks, “I didn’t either, darling.” 

Arthur doesn’t relax, but there is something about his misery that is easily pushed to the side for curiosity. 

Eames smiles at him and continues. “You were— you were a fantasy. A what if. Something amusing to think of when I was bored, or something  life saving to dive into when reality drew a knife and stabbed me with it— literally, sometimes. But it was always a fantasy. An escape. It— it couldn’t have become real, if you’d given it a chance back then.” Eames takes a breath, shakes his head. 

Arthur reaches up with a hand, frowning, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“But the trouble is, darling, it is incredibly hard not to fall in love with you the more I learn about you.” Eames smiles under his finger tips. “That is what changed. You never let me learn you. But who is to stop anyone from learning the dead?” 

Something flickers over Arthur’s face— guilt, again, but different. “I didn’t know you wanted to learn about me— I thought you only gave a fuck about what I could be for you.” 

Eames lays his hand over Arthur’s. “You’re right. I was blind— too blinded by the possibilities and too selfish to do anything about it. Maybe I needed to lose you in order to learn how to see .” 

“No— No I should’ve,” Arthur shakes his head sharply. “I should have told you. There would’ve been another way without— How long have you been drinking?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to darling.”

“Eames.” 

Arthur takes his hand off and moves off of Eames’ chest, sitting up straight. Eames follows him, struck by a sudden vision of Arthur slipping out of bed— out of his life, dogged by misplaced guilt and regret. He curls his hands around Arthur’s wrists, as gently as he can. Don’t trap him. Don’t chase him away. 

“No. It’s fine. We’re fine,” Eames hurries to say. “Why would you tell me? I was a colleague at best, bane of your existence at worst. I had— I have no right—“ 

“I should have told you because I did know you,” Arthur interrupts him. “I was supposed to know. You said possibilities? I am supposed to be the one who sees them— all of them. I’m the one who has to prepare for all scenarios, know the players, do the research and put the pieces together. That is what I do, Eames. And I missed something.” Arthur takes a shuddering breath, looking forlorn and tired. “I’m so sorry for missing the most important part.” 

“You can’t apologise for missing something that wasn’t even really there yet.” 

“Yes, I can. I’m sorry for missing our potential. For underestimating us. Underestimating you.” Arthur laughs. “I’m so fucking stupid. I thought you kept searching for me out of— curiosity. Or that I fucked up, left a trail somewhere and you wanted to prove to me that you found it, you figured it out. Fuck. I never thought it was because you missed me.” 

“I did,” Eames says, and it almost chokes him. “Every day.” 

Arthur looks at him then, eyes flicking to the side, his hair covering half of his face, but his smile is visible. “You know, I did too. That’s why I knew you were looking for me. Kept tabs on you, even though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t.” 

Eames swallows at the sight— at the hope it instills in him. Arthur let him, yes. It could have been a kindness. But this smile, shy and bashful, and the words that follow it. Maybe potential comes in twos. “I didn’t keep looking because I missed you,” Eames tells him, because he has no time for secrets anymore, no time for regret, for either of them. “I kept looking because I couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t bear it. Darling.” Eames slips his hands from Arthur’s wrists and puts them on either side of Arthur’s face instead, bracketing the smile. “You’re my future. You couldn’t be dead.” 

“I’m not,” Arthur tells him, like a confession of his own. “I’m not dead, Eames.” 

“Good.” Eames pulls him in closer, and Arthur lets him. He lets him trace the smile with his thumbs, lets him breathe close against his mouth and whisper, “Next time darling, when decide to you kill yourself. Kill me too.”  

The grin that blooms doesn’t fit between Eames’ fingers, so he kisses Arthur instead. Deep, possessive. Loving. Arthur lets him, and he never stops. 

[slashingdisneypasta]

Do you need more Slender Brothers stuff? Cause I'm here to deliver lol! Can I get Trender with s/o designs clothes for famous celebrities and models and works for one of those famous fashion magazines (like Vogue or something) and would sometimes ask him for opinion/help on designs? Love your blog ♥

I always need for Slender Bros in my life ^^

I hope you like these!

~~~

Omg! He couldn’t be happier!

Honestly, this the cheeriest Trender can be. He’s usually pretty level-headed and chill but with you, with someone who actually understands his passion and is just as obsessed as him?? He becomes so much lighter.

You two are so in sync- cuz even if you have a really ‘out-there’ style, there is no doubt in my mind that Trender will be able to appreciate and understand it on a deep level that maybe not many people do.

Trender watches different Red Carpet events on TV with is brothers and keeps a keen eye out for everything he knows you designed and/or created and gets soexcited- pointing it out to his brothers like *Turns around* *Immediately starts wailing on Offender with the rolled up magazine he was holding onto excitedly* ‘That one’s Y/N’s! Mathew McConaughey is wearing Y/N’s design!’ or ‘That’s the one! Right there! That one that one that one that one- ‘until Slender throws the TV out a window. Splender is happy for you, though XD

If you have a stressful cut off date and need to stay up late working? Trender is right there with you, plying you both with caffeine and mac & cheese. Many nights are spent like this, in the kitchen with easels all over the place, and big ass sketch books on the benches, and clear markings on the paint water cups so you don’t accidentally drink that instead of your coffee. He’s doing his own, more peaceful thing, but he’s there all the same and he’s prepared to help you if you ask (Like, if you want someone with fresher eyes then yours to take a look and ask you if the colour is nice or if you’re just so tired you’ve gone delusional for example).

He’s more then happy to stand for hours on end, acting as your dress mannequin when the rest of your (Actual) mannequins are being used and you’re desperate. You two will talk while you work, or he’s cool with being silent as you focus too. Its up to you ^^

And oh god- he loves to watch you when you’re focusing on your art. He thinks you’re the most attractive person he’s ever seen when you’re up in bed in the middle of the night, sketching out a random idea you got in your dreams by lamp light- Or you’re laying on your tummy on the floor, chewing on a wafer stick as you go through books upon books about fashion and fabrics and history; Bits of fabric beside you as you try to decide which to use- Or you’ve got your easel out at the park, standing up and painting beautiful brush strokes against the paper that become a masterpiece- Or-

Okay you get the point XD

And- of course- you’re in awe of him! I mean, he saw all the greatest marks in fashion history. He was there, he lived it all! And his mind- oh my god. You’re in love with all the absolute works of art that come so seemingly effortlessly out of him. You love to just listen to him talk about fashion; Its honestly your favourite thing in this whole world. You’re honoured that he would spend his time with a measly little up-and-coming fashion designer like yourself.

And- seeing as famous people are wearing your designs- I’m assuming you’re pretty stressed-out person. Well, Trender is most certainly, there to make you rest when you obviously need to but think you can’t. He goes to bed with you and strokes your hair until you relax or fall asleep. He understands that you love your job, truly he does, but he also knows you’ll learn to hate it if you let it ruin your health. So come on; Lets go to bed, huh?

You: But- But its only 3 in the afternoon-

Trender: And it was 3 in the morning, earlier, and you didn’t sleep, so now we play catch up. Get in the bed.

You two are starry eyed at each other and its adorable XD

[tsukishumai]

49 from the general with oikawa please?🙈

Ty for requesting anonny! 😘 hope u like

send me a prompt + ur fav character here :)

49. Have you been sleeping?

Tags: aged up characters, fem!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Oikawa stood in front of your apartment door, wondering for the sixth time if he was doing the right thing. He ran his fingers over the grooves on the brass key he held in his hand. You’d given him a spare key to your apartment “just in case of emergency.” Now here he was, standing in front of your door, and contemplating on whether not hearing from you in twenty two hours constituted as an emergency.

Sighing out loud, hoping his actions weren’t seen as a nuisance, he entered the key, twisting the lock before opening the door.

“Y/N?” Oikawa called out, stepping into the genkan and taking his shoes off, quickly slipping into the baby blue house slippers you usually kept for him. He waited a few seconds for a response, and when he heard none, he made his way down the hallway that lead to your living room.

Oikawa found you on the couch, blanket wrapped around your shoulders and hunched over your laptop, ears covered by the headphones he had gotten for you last Christmas. He could hear the music blasting from where he stood, your mouth syncing with the words as you reached over to grab one of the many textbooks that littered your coffee table.

He crossed his arms, an amused smile on his face as he waited for you to notice his presence. Your fingers were typing at nearly lightning speed, and Oikawa was worried you were going to start a fire. You slammed down hard on a particular key, letting out an inhuman groan as you finally sat up and outstretched your arms.

Finally, your eyes landed on him, and Oikawa could not stop laughing at the comical way you jumped in the air, eyes stricken with fear before you realized it was just your lovely boyfriend standing in the middle of your apartment.

“Jesus Christ, Tooru!” you exclaimed, pulling off the headphones, “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you asshole!”

Oikawa was nearly doubled over, holding his stomach while you crossed your arms and give him a pointed glare.

“Oh, so you are alive,” Oikawa pointed out, making his way over to stand in front of you, “And here I thought, hmm, there must be some life-threatening, world-shattering reason as to why my girlfriend hasn’t replied to any of my messages. Or answered my calls. ”

He quirked an eyebrow, and you flinched a little at his words, bringing your hands up to try to rub the tired away from your face. “Sorry, Tooru… I’ve been busy.”

From his position look down, Oikawa can clearly see the deep purple bags that began to line your eyes. Your hair was up in a messy bun, random locks falling out haphazardly to frame your face. The shirt you were wearing had coffee stains, and you must have felt the way Oikawa was scrutinizing your appearance because you quickly wrapped your blanket around you tighter.

“When was the last time you took a break? Have you been sleeping? Have you eaten at all?” Oikawa bombarded you with questions, and the grimace on your face tells him all he needs to know. He was well aware of this bad habit of yours.

“Babe, my thesis is – “

“Isn’t due yet for another two months,” Oikawa interrupted, collecting the papers strewn about all over the floor, placing them up on top of the coffee table. He gathered all your textbooks, placing them atop one another in one neat stack.

“I know, but this research – “

“This research will be waiting for you after a meal, and a nap,” He said again, walking over to you and pulling the blanket off of you. You attempted to protest, but you cut yourself off with a yelp when Oikawa lifted you up from the couch bridal style.

“What are you doing, you psycho? Put me down,” you thumped on his chest half-heartedly, and he simply bent down and took an exaggerated whiff.

“While we’re at it, let’s toss you in the bath, too. Let’s see if you’ll melt,” he teased, letting you down once he gets you into the bathroom.

“Hey!” you pouted, “Did you come here to be a sweet loving boyfriend, or to be a giant pain in my ass?”

Oikawa laughed, turning on the water and adjusting the temperature to how he knows you like it: boiling hot. He turned on the space heater as well, hoping to avoid letting you step into cold air. The irritation in your eyes faded away when he gently reached up to let your hair loose from the hair tie that was giving you a headache.

“Fine, Tooru, I’ll take this one quick bath, but then I have to seriously get back to work.”

The look on Oikawa’s face tells you that you aren’t getting your way today, and you simply sighed as he reached out and place a hand on both your shoulders.

“I’m going to tell you something that has been repeatedly drilled into my head by one L/N Y/N,” he announced dramatically before bending down to look you straight in the eyes, “You need to give yourself a break.”

You pursed your lips slightly, still unconvinced when Oikawa reached out to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ears before cupping your face and squeezing your cheeks with his hands.

“This is what we’re going to do,” He started, “You’re going to take a nice, warm bath while I order some food. After we eat, we’re going to take a good, long nap, and when we wake up, I can help you organize some of your notes.”

Oikawa’s heart crushed at the sight of the tears beginning to fill your eyes.

He placed a quick kiss on the tip of your nose “Deal?”

“Deal,” you nodded, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his middle and bury your face in his chest. He gave your back a soothing rub, kissing the crown of your head.

He took your arms off from his waist, turning you around by the shoulders and giving a two-handed slap on your butt. “Hup hup! Get to it!”

“I’m going, I’m going…”

The grumbling that came from your mouth sounded all too familiar to Oikawa, chuckling at the reversal of roles. You sounded just like he does when you scold him for practicing for too long.

He pulled out his phone, calling in your favorite order from your favorite restaurant. He spent the twenty eight minutes waiting for it to get delivered by cleaning up your living room, thankful for the chance to finally take care of you the way you always take care of him.

[jtsfavslut]

Falling [G.D]

Description: Just when Y/N thought she was over Grayson, he pops back into her life, making her wonder if you could fall for the same person twice. Inspired by ‘Falling’ - Harry Styles. 

Warnings: None, Just sad stuff lmao!!!

Word Count: 4K+

Also a special thanks to cole [ @blazedgraysons​] for keeping up with my annoying ass questions while I wrote this, and for helping me and giving me advice I love you <333

   Her small feet carried her body down the familiar street, cars zooming past her as her body softly bumped into the others around her. The loud sounds from the environment being blocked away by the soft, yet loud music that was coming out of an old pair of Airpods she had gotten for Christmas back in High School.

This was Y/N's daily routine. Get up early in the morning, do her business in the bathroom, get dressed, and walk over to her favorite cafe. The Beachwood cafe had become Y/N's second home ever since she moved to L.A, spending most of her time there, before and after class.

A smile lit up her face as the familiar blue door came into her view, a content sigh falling past her lips as she got closer to the door.

The strong smell of coffee hit her nostrils as she walked inside, music being paused as she walked fully inside, giving her attention to the cashier that greeted her every morning, "Hi Y/N, your stuff is on your table," she smiled up at Y/N before pointing towards her usual table.

It was the one by the window in the corner of the shop, the bright yellow and blue floor illuminated her small journey to the table, where her coffee and breakfast sandwich happily waited for her to approach. She sat down, hand reaching into her Yellow Kanken backpack, another Christmas gift from high school that she dearly took care of, she pulled out a brown journal and a pen.

A journal filled with memories and random thoughts that popped in her head. Y/N thought writing things down was good for the mind and body. She believed that writing things down would help you keep your thoughts safely, and lock memories into place without overworking your mind. A pen that has been through many journeys on the same yet different page.

All pages were the same until the pen went over it, recording things until the end of time. They were all the same until she wrote down her thoughts for the day.

Her small hand gripped onto the pen as she wrote down her thoughts from the previous night, coffee cup in the other hand as she slowly sipped the liquid.

Last night I thought of him again, just until I drifted off. I don't know why. It hasn't happened in months. Nothing bad, just a memoir of all of our memories together. Like the time we broke into the school's pool one night. Where he pushed me in with all my clothes on, then he jumped in and we made out by the stairs. Funny how we never got caught since cameras were around us. Or when we had our senior trips to the mountains in Colorado, and how he kept sneaking into the girls' room just to be with me. We were lucky we didn't get caught again. I tried to not keep thinking about him. I know it's time to finally drop it and move on, but how? How do I erase all those memories from my brain? How am I supposed to just drop it and move along? Just how? I don't need or want to know why just how.

She softly slammed the notebook closed, right before she could feel a slight burning in her eyes and a rock starting to form in her throat. The subject of her and a past lover that she was still holding onto, still being a deep wound to her.

She thought about and remembered Grayson every day. After all, he was her everything during her entire High School life, and he still was…...sort of.  Grayson and Y/N started dating in the 9th grade, right about in the middle of the year. He asked her out behind the school's bleachers during lunchtime, a mixture of flowers from his mom's garden that she shyly accepted from him after she said yes. That was followed by their date to the movie theater, where he held her close to him every time she faked being a little scared, not that he could tell, and three dates after he officially asked her out where she said yes again, and that was followed by an accidental kiss, he was leaning towards her cheek when she accidentally moved her head to the side, causing his lips to land on hers. Neither of them complained, just smiled at each other and carried on.

They went on for 6 years, all of high school and two college years, where he decided to break it off because of distance. He went off on how being across the country from one another was hard, and the fact that the time difference from New York to California was 3 and 4. She didn't complain. Didn't give a reason as to why not, even if she had trillions of them. She didn't try to change his mind. She simply said okay, and wished him the best. She still loved him though.

The words that her grandpa had spoken replayed in her brain every time she questioned why she still thought about him; "You never stop loving anyone sugar, you just kinda love someone stronger. If you stop loving them, then you never loved them to begin with" She thought about that, and that made her feel better. Maybe there was someone out there who she would love more than she loved Grayson.

With a quiet sigh, she put her journal away, switching it with a book she picked up at the library a few days prior, yet read a million times.

To Kill A Mockingbird is a book she read many times in school, mostly everyone has. It's the one book from school she actually enjoyed, so she picked it up from the book shop down the street from her apartment before work one day, and didn't get to read it until now.

She opened the book with a small smile, the sensation of the book against her finger bringing nothing but happiness to her, and took her mind off whatever was bothering her. She lost herself in the book, almost done with half of the book before her alarm rang, signaling it was time for work. She left a 20 on the table after putting all her stuff away in her backpack and walking out of the shop and towards her job which was a paid internship at a local hospital downtown, all she did was watch and help out with minor cases like cuts, sprains, X Ray's and the occasional stuff like questioning. She entered the hospital, sanitizing herself and changing into her uniform, walking over to her area, that being the Pediatrics Emergency room where her boss, mentor, whatever you might want to call him, Dr. Reyez, and the rest of the team were waiting for her.

"Morning everyone," she chirped at the tired yet awake health care workers, who all had smiles on their faces. "Morning Y/N, you're going to be practicing by yourself today, can you handle it?" Dr. Reyez asked her, which she just nodded her head with a smile. There wasn't a single ounce of doubt in her brain.

"I'm pretty sure yes! And I can just reach out to you guys if anything, right?"

"Yeah, just page us if anything. Your first patient should be here soon, just go wait by the desk," Reyez instructed her and that's exactly what she did. She sat on the desk for over 20 minutes until someone came in with a toddler covered in rashes.

"Hi baby, I just need to ask you and mommy a few questions, yeah?" She sweetly and patiently asked the 5 year old as his mom was filling out some papers, to which he just nodded his head.

"Okay, Xavion, did you eat something new today? Maybe something you've never eaten?" She asked and both the mom and son nodded their heads.

"Do you think he was allergic to something?" The mom asked, causing Y/N to shrug.

"Well, it depends. We need to get an allergy test for him. It doesn't hurt or anything, we just scratch and pour a drop of the allergen over it and see how they react. Mom, do you happen to remember what he ate today for the first time?" She replied by recording some notes down on her clipboard before telling a nurse to get an Allergy Antibody Test ready.

"He ate everything that he usually does except for some broccoli I gave him," the mom replied and Y/N nodded her head before writing it down on her clipboard and walking them to the testing room.

Once the results came back around half an hour later, Xavion was, in fact, allergic to broccoli, and other things that Y/N had to explain to the mother. She got about 15 minutes of break time before Reyez called her another minor emergency.

"It's an 11 year old, possible breakage or sprain to the leg, you can handle this one right?" He asked and she nodded her head, "Good, they're in room 217, good luck," he added before sending her off to the room.

She quickly made her way over to it, grabbing her clipboard on the way, "Hi, I'm Dr.Y/LN, I'm going to be taking care of you guys today! May I have the child's name and date of birth please?" She nicely asked as she walked inside the room, quickly walking over to the desk area that was in the corner and placing her stuff down.

"Uhhh, Caleb Dolan, August 17, 2008," a deep voice that she could recognize from anywhere spoke as she turned around. Her heart dropped at the sight of Grayson in front of her. She tried to reassemble herself, after all, she couldn't make any mistakes right now, Reyez was trusting her and she couldn't afford to mess the opportunity up.

"Caleb, August 17, 2008," she mumbled as she wrote it down on her piece of paper, "Caleb, do you mind telling me what happened, babe?" She asked with a smile on her face. Her smile turned into a small frown as she looked up at the boy who happened to be in pain.

"Me and uncle Gray were practicing for the soccer game that's next and I fell on the mud and hit my leg really hard," he explained as she walked towards him nodding her head.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, One being okay while 10 being the worst, how would you rate the pain?" She asked, walking over to the walk to grab a pair of gloves, putting them on, and walking back towards him.

"Uhh a seven," he replied and she nodded her head.

"Okay Caleb, just know this might hurt a little okay? It's just protocol to check if it's dislocated, broken, or sprained okay?" She asked and he nodded his head, a few tears falling down his face from fear. Grayson quickly leaned down to wipe off his face whispering a quiet 'you'll be okay' as Caleb grabbed his hand.

"Can you try and move your ankle for me? Just try and move it," she explained and he muttered at quiet yes before moving his foot in a slow circle, she nodded her head before placing both hands over his ankle checking for any bumps, which there were none to find, "Luckily for you Caleb, it's just sprained! There are no bumps meaning it's not dislocated, and you can move it meaning it's not fractured! Just to make sure, we're going to need an X Ray' just to make sure there are no hidden surprises yeah? Dr. Lindsey will do those with you, and I'll be right here when you come back," she smiled up at the boy before Dr. Lindey moved him to a wheelchair and took him to the X Ray room, leaving Y/N and Grayson alone in painful silence.

"So this is what you do? This is where you work?" Grayson was the first to speak after a couple of quiet seconds,

She cleared her throat and nodded her head, placing her hands inside her white jacket, "Yeah. It's a paid internship so it's basically a job, what about you? What are you doing here?" She asked to make direct eye contact with him.

"Moved here after me and E graduated, looking for some roles and an agent," he spoke, his voice not as deep yet shakier than when he first spoke.

"Any luck with that?"

"Yeah. We've landed a few small roles here and there," he answered and she just nodded her head.

"That's good! I'm glad everything's working out for you," She gave him a genuine smile before continuing to fill out Caleb's paperwork.

"Listen, I know it's been 2 years but-," Grayson began to speak before Y/N cut him off. "-Grayson just don't. I'm at work right now, and it's enough seeing you after 2 years, but I don't really need this right now. I'm sorry," She apologized before leaving the room to get some papers before walking back in, thankfully Caleb was already in the room when she walked in.

"I'm going to wrap your ankle up with this and then you're good to go, buddy. Make sure you don't apply pressure on it for two weeks. And carefully when you're playing any sport, I don't want you back here," she said while wrapping his ankle up carefully. She gave Grayson the discharge papers, their hands touching each other for a split second before she pulled away waving them off before walking to where her team was.

"That guy was looking at you intensely," Reyez pointed out, earning a glare from her.

"Don't even start," she rolled her eyes before taking a sip from her water bottle that was on her desk.

"Wait is that the?" Jacob, one of the nurses, asked and she nodded her head.

"Yeah, that's him," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Holly shit Y/N, I knew you said he was hot, but girl? That man is hotter than-,"

"Mackenzie, don't you dare," Y/N joked towards her other co-worker, "God why do you do this to me? I was almost over him and then you put him on my path again? The universe hates me,"

"I'd go for it again if I were you," Mackenzie encouraged earning a glare from her.

"Alright, leave her alone before she starts to crumble, Mackenzie go fill out reports, Y/N go take a breather," Reyez ordered them around and they all nodded their heads, going on their way to do what they were told.

. . .

Soft snores began to quietly run past her lips as she drifted off to sleep, all before a feeling of suddenly falling down an empty whole woke her up. She shook her head letting out a quiet 'fuck' before turning to look towards the clocks on her nightstand, 3:30 AM being brightly displayed on it. Y/N let out a loud sigh, knowing she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

Her mind suddenly clouded with knotted thoughts and notions, too many of them just to focus on a single one. She pushed her body up, just enough for her to reach over and grab the small yellow backpack that she lazily threw on the floor, pulling her journal and pen out before throwing it back on the floor.

She clicked the pen and opened the journal, blank pages waiting to be filled up, her hand delicately moved along the paper as she scribbled letters and words on the empty pages, thoughts clearing out of her head, one by one.

I saw him today. He looked different. He's grown. After it all, it has been two years. His voice is deeper too. He wanted to talk, but I said no. Maybe if I did, I would fall for him again, or something. I'm doing just fine, so why did he have to move here. Anyway, Reyez finally allowed me to take care of patients by myself today. It was fun, I liked it, I guess. Luckily I'm free tomorrow because I can't sleep at all now. Maybe it's the repeating thoughts of him running through my mind, or just simply the lack of melatonin in my body right now. I'll probably go to the park tomorrow, stop at the cafe first then make my way there, but anyway, I'm going to try and sleep now.

It was a quick entry, nothing special, just her major thoughts being written down, just enough for her to feel better. She got up from the bed walking over to the kitchen grabbing a water bottle before leaning against the counter and sipping it. She crossed her bare legs over each other, looking out of the big window in her living room. Her favorite part about the apartment? It was the window that looked down on bright LA city. Y/N could sit there for hours and not notice the time pass by, she knows this because it happened before. She left the kitchen and walked towards the window, propping her body down on the small couch she had in front of the window. She laid her head on her hand, watching the few cars that sped down the street, the small yet bright red lights disappearing into the distance as her eyes followed them until they could.

Her eyes softly closed as she laid down on the couch, drifting off into another universe. The next morning she woke up at around 8 AM, doing her daily routine, except she stopped at the Cafe, picked her things up, and made her way to the park. It was an old park, there was an old playground that seemed like it hadn't been used in years. She sat down on an old bench drinking her coffee as she watched the scenery.

She didn't take her notebook out, her mind not having any thoughts, or at least no thoughts relevant enough for her to write down. She just took her time to take her surroundings in. She admired how the wind moved the trees, yet they were so strong they didn't crack. The way the birds lifted off whatever surface they were, and drifted off into the sky. She admired the rare butterflies that randomly appeared just to disappear once again. She simply admired the earth, something that she didn't do quite often; Always being too deep in her thoughts to actually study the things around her.

"They're beautiful aren't they?" Grayson's voice spoke out of nowhere, making Y/N do a slight jump in her seat as her heart raced.

She brought her hand up to her chest, a sigh falling past her lips as she glared at Grayson who was chuckling, "You fucking scared me,"

"Sorry," he sighed, sitting down next to her.

They both let out sighs. Both knowing that there was no escaping the conversation that was about to happen, a conversation that was long due.

"You could, hmm, you could go first," she spoke after a few moments of silence, throat dried making her clear it in the middle of some of her words.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. You were working, and Ummm, it wasn't the right place or time to talk about things. I'm also sorry because I never gave you an explanation as to why we should've broken up. After all, you didn't ask anyway," He softly spoke. He thought every word through, studied each meaning before letting them run past his lips.

"I didn't ask because it's what you wanted. Your decision was clearly made. I mean, I don't think breaking up with someone is a spontaneous thought is it? Your decision was made, and if you felt like I was holding you back, then I had to let you go, if I loved you, then I think I did the right thing." Her words were careful too. And quiet, so quiet feeling that if she spoke too loud the things around her would break.

"I didn't want to break up. I felt like it was the right thing to do, you know? We were always so busy, and we made time for each other, but it was exhausting. And when you were out with friends, I felt like I was annoying you or something," he sighed and she shook her head, the thought of her ever getting annoyed at Grayson's presence being absurd.

"Oh God absolutely not," she chuckled, "I thought I was annoying you. Like I wondered if you talked about me, or not. I wanted to know if I annoyed you because I felt like I did,"

It was true. In her journal, multiple pages were filled out with her question herself on whether Grayson talked about her or not. Even after the breakup, she wondered if he'll ever need her. Most pages were about him, all of her thoughts revolved around him, always.

"I did. All the time, to the point where I said your name subconsciously," he smiled, remembering the conversations he had with his friends about her, and how great she was.

"I did too, well not say but write," she sighed, leaning her back on the bench.

"You wrote about me?"

"Grayson you know I did, that's a dumb question," She shook her head, taking a sip of the coffee that was somehow still warm.

"Do you still write about me?" He asked and she stayed quiet, not knowing whether she should answer truthfully or not.

"Honestly speaking, I do. I write about everything that comes to mind, so sometimes? Yeah," she sighed, knowing that it would be easier if they just told the truth.

Maybe this was the closure that they both needed, yet never got. Maybe this was going to help her fully move on from him, and have thoughts that don't include her.

Or maybe not. Maybe this would help them reconnect. Y/N left it all up to the universe. She was a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and that you can't change your future since it's already written about. When she got home after a couple of hours she took a shower, lit on her favorite candles, and did the expected. She took out her notebook and wrote.

We spoke today. He told me the reason why we broke up. It wasn't an intentional meeting though, I was just admiring nature. I was looking at the butterflies I think. He randomly spoke. And I know it was long due and needed so I just told him to say it. It's better to just get it over with than to just keep pushing it back, I think. He told me why he wanted to break up, which right now, sounds like a valid reason. I just wonder why he didn't just say it back then. It would've saved me a lot of nights, don't you think? He now knows I write about him, and where I go to write about him. Maybe I shouldn't go there anymore. It sounds out of this world I know. But maybe, just maybe, I should just close that chapter in my life.

There are just too many memories of him at Beachwood. That's where he surprised me the first time he came to visit. And it's where I write about him the most. I could find another cafe near here, there's plenty.

I just wonder if we're ever going to see each other again. If I'll ever fall for him again, if that is even possible. Because I don't think you could fall for the same person twice, right?

That was the last page in her journal. All the pages filled with her delicate letters, her writing being eternal. Filled with on-going words until the end, where an unanswered question laid. The weight that was once on her shoulders began to fade, and for once in her life, the thought of her future no longer made her afraid.

 This is the first time I’m proud of a something I wrote, so if this flops, I will deactivate! Just kidding, sort of. Anyways, yeah, I feel like my writing has improved, and as always, if you have any tips, and/or constructive critism, please, please, please drop them in my inbox, and don’t worry, I won’t say your hurting my feelings lmfao!! 

Tag List:   @guiltydols @evergreendolan @ydolanssss @rhyrhy462 @resilientdolan @simplyxdolxstyles @simplyxdolxstyles​ {If you wanna be added to my Tag List, just let me know :) lol}

[loving-inkpressions]

Burning Up [6/?]

Summary: When she applied to be the secretary for managing partner Rosé McCorkell, Denali hadn't expected to end up working for the biggest pain in her ass, nor did she expect anything beyond a professional relationship.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: A bit of heat, a sprinkle of potential drama and a spoonful of courage. It's been a while, but I do hope you enjoy the latest development between these two. (:

Prefer reading it on AO3?

If there was one thing for certain, Denali was sure that the relationship between her and Rosé had shifted from professional to an almost completely different territory.

That morning when she had arrived to find the bouquet of roses and note on her desk, she had been completely taken by surprise at the gesture. She had stood there staring at the card while hugging the beautiful red blooms to her chest for a long while, a goofy smile on her face, until Kandy had walked up to her with a knowing look on her face.

“Are you sure the two of you aren’t-”

“No Kandy, I’m pretty sure.” Denali had then passed the card to Kandy, who let out a low whistle as she read it.

“Looks like she’s in for much more than just your ass.”

Denali laughed as she took the card back.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

And it seemed like it was true. Rosé was gentler with Denali now and somehow bolder than before, the touches between them increasing even more.

The fleeting touches were just that, fleeting. Just a swipe of her fingers on the inside of Denali’s wrists, a gentle hand on her elbow when Denali had lost her balance once, touching her forearm when they were both laughing about a funny fact in one of Rosé’s cases, random tugs to her curls or tapping her on the nose.

And then there were the ones that happened behind closed doors, when there was no one else around. Those were the ones that made Denali’s breath stutter and her heart melt.

Rosé would catch her by the hand and lace their fingers together, refusing to let go when she led her to the car to drive her home. Kisses to her knuckles were a common thing now, and then there were the ones to the cheek that she would give when Denali wasn’t paying attention and the featherlight forehead kisses when they parted.

But even then, there was still no label to what was going on between the two of them. Denali wasn’t really sure what to make of it, and yet at the same time she didn’t know how to address it. It was obvious that whatever was between them was growing exponentially, and yet she still felt a little unsure. They never met outside of work, bar the lunches they’d have together and Rosé sending Denali back home.

It made her wonder if this was just an office fling, but deep inside something told her that it wasn’t.

———

It was a little after 9pm when Denali was finally done with the final draft of the quarterly report. After printing out the thick document and walking back to her desk, she dropped into her chair, feeling exhausted. Leaning back and stretching, she swivelled around and noticed that besides herself, there was no one else on her floor, everyone else already having left.

Rubbing her eyes, she packed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Grabbing the report, still a little warm from the printer, she made her way to Rosé’s office.

The walk there was cold and the corridor empty, but Denali was used to it. After all, it wasn’t her first time staying so late.

Walking over to the door she was so familiar with, she knocked on it. After waiting a second, Denali entered the office and saw Rosé on the settee, open boxes and papers strewn all around the space with scribbled post it notes pasted on selected print outs.

Despite the late hour, Rosé still looked immaculate, her make up still close to perfect. The only things that gave away that she was stressed out was how her auburn hair was now up in a messy bun and her blazer was slung over the back of the settee, the sleeves of her white blouse pushed up to reveal the tattoos that ran up her arms.

“Hey Rosé, I have the final draft of the quarterly report ready for you.”

Rosé looked up, and smiled wearily at the blonde.

“Thank you Denali, you can put it on my desk.”

Nodding in response, Denali set it on the managing partner’s desk and noticed her empty coffee cup. Without a second thought, she quietly placed her bag at the side, grabbed the cup and left the office, returning 5 minutes later with a fresh cup of coffee. She dropped down onto the empty space next to Rosé, jolting the older woman out of her thoughts, and held the cup out to her.

“You look like you need coffee and some help.” It took Rosé a moment to register the cup of coffee before she took it from her.

“Thank you for this, angel, but you don’t have to stay.”

Denali shook her head. “No way am I leaving you to do all of this by yourself, not when you have a perfectly healthy secretary here that is more than happy to help you.” Rosé was about to argue, but Denali stopped her by pressing her finger against her lips. “I insist, and no arguing! I want to help, and nothing you say will change my mind.”

Rosé stared at the look of stubborn determination on Denali’s face, then down to the finger pressed against her lips and sighed.

She took ahold of Denali’s hand, kissing the back of it as she stroked it with her thumb.

“Fine then, I won’t argue because I know how stubborn you can get.”

Denali beamed and set about helping Rosé to sort out a box of transcripts, completely oblivious to the look of adoration that was on the other woman’s face.

The next few hours consisted of the sound of shuffling papers, notes being written and little snatches of discussion between the two of them. They were slowly able to build a solid case together, the board Rosé had in her office for such cases like this one soon filled with sticky notes and papers stuck onto it. Denali being there was the help that Rosé hadn’t thought she’d needed, with her lending a fresh pair of eyes to the case, pointing out tiny little details and inconsistencies in the court transcripts that Rosé might have otherwise missed in her quest for finding the smoking gun.

They decided to take a break to order some food while they were going through the fifth box of materials, the two of them side by side on the settee eating some Chinese takeaway that Rosé had ordered in from one of the few places that delivered at that hour.

They were pressed much closer than usual, but Denali didn’t say anything, focusing instead on her food and not on how their elbows would knock against each other every now and then, and how they were practically connected from hip to knee, flushed against each other.

They were chattering about for a bit, about how Kandy seemed to be crushing on an associate that was under Lagoona and then how Jan was now engaged to Nicky, having been proposed to not too long ago when Nicky had whisked her away to Paris and proposed to her in the middle of the Louvre.

“That is actually really romantic. Kind of cliched, but in the best possible way.” Denali commented as she finished the last bit of her stir fry. She placed the empty carton on the coffee table.

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Denali could feel the warmth that was coming from Rosé’s side, thankful that the redhead was dressed in her usual pantsuit today. She didn’t know how she’d react if the bare skin of their legs were pressed against each other since she was wearing a skirt that rode up to almost her mid thigh when she sat down.

That didn’t mean that she didn’t like being close to Rosé though.

After a moment’s hesitation, she leaned against Rosé’s side, who was sipping at her iced lemon tea.

Usually, Denali wasn’t the one who took the initiative, being more careful and shy about the way the two of them were getting along, which was why Rosé paused mid sip, surprised. She looked at Denali, who was pointedly looking away, her cheeks a dusty pink. Rosé looked down at the hand that was slowly inching towards her own and immediately hooked their pinkies together, chuckling when she saw the blush on Denali’s cheeks deepen.

The blonde looked soft and tired, and yet somehow still warm and content despite the amount of paperwork that surrounded them.

“Hey, Nali?” Denali turned to look at her. “Want a sip?” She offered the cup to Denali, straw pointed in her direction and Denali leaned forward, catching the straw between her lips and taking a sip, her cheeks hollowing just a little before she innocently looked up through her long lashes, dark eyes connecting with hazel ones.

There was a zing of electricity between them as the redhead stared, her eyes drawn to the lips wrapped around the straw then back to Denali’s large brown eyes. There were thoughts floating about in both heads, both not so different from the other, the tension between them thickening even more.

When Denali finally released the straw, Rosé cleared her throat and set the cup down on the coffee table while Denali muttered that she would clear the empty food containers. She reluctantly withdrew her hand from Rosé’s and busied herself with packing up the takeaway refuse and scurrying out of the room, leaving Rosé to stare at the straw that Denali’s lips had been on just moments before.

By the time Denali was back in Rosé’s office, it was as if nothing had happened and they continued on, though the tension was still there.

It was almost three in the morning when they were finally done. Rosé now had everything she needed to win the case. The only things left were to type everything out and to make a few calls, all of which could be done the next morning.

Rosé pinned the final note onto the board and stood back, taking one last look at everything that they had found to ensure that it was an airtight case, then turned around to find Denali asleep on the couch, curled up against the arm rest. Rosé looked fondly at her, walking over and crouching down in front of her so she was eye level, watching Denali as she slept.

She didn’t have the heart to wake her secretary, not when she looked so peaceful, but she knew it had to be done. She couldn’t leave her sleeping like that until morning. Rosé reached out a hand to lightly stroke the top of her head, chuckling when Denali wrinkled her nose cutely and shifted in her sleep.

Suppressing a yawn, Rosé shook her head and stood, checking her watch before settling next to Denali on the couch, deciding to take a quick rest of her own before she would drive them both home. Carefully, she shifted Denali so that she was now sleeping in her arms, smiling when the blonde settled in her embrace with a contented sigh.

Minutes later, the redhead too was lost in her own dreams.

———

It was hot, almost too hot.

Denali could feel the featherlight touches that were too familiar all around her, brushing against every exposed part of her body, leaving her gasping. There were low whispers in her ear, the smell of vanilla flooding her senses and then light kisses on her knuckles, the back of her hands, the middle of her palms, trailing up her arm, the point of her shoulder, collarbones, neck, her chin, her cheeks, but never her mouth.

She tried to reach out and grab hold of whatever it was, but was met with nothing but air and the sound of breathy laughs and the ache between her legs that was present more often than not at nights when she was alone in her bed, thinking of familiar arms and tattooed fingers.

Denali felt arms wrap around her waist, teasing the skin there, tracing and looping mindless patterns, puffs of air against her neck and she whimpered, clenching her thighs together in an attempt to build some friction.

Tuts could be heard and the feeling of lips on her neck, collarbones, fingers dancing down to her thighs and she felt herself slowly giving in, parting her legs just a little.

“Nali…”

She spun around, letting the hands guide her.

“Baby…”

Letting the fingers trail closer to where she yearned them to touch her-

“Denali, it’s time to wake up.”

Eyes snapping open, Denali awoke to find herself back in the office, half lying in Rosé’s arms. Swallowing hard, conscious of the ache between her legs, she pulled away from Rosé, noting the smirk on the other woman’s face.

“Did you have a good dream?” Rosé asked, reaching out to tuck an errant curl back behind Denali’s ear. “Because it sounded like you were having a good time.”

Face flushing to a bright red, Denali opened her mouth to reply, but no actual words came out. Her brain was still trying to play catch up, still caught in the feelings and sensation of her dream versus the actual person she was dreaming of before her.

Rosé watched a flustered Denali trying to formulate a reply for a while before finally letting her off the hook with a quick kiss to her cheek, effectively silencing her.

Denali looked back at Rosé with wide eyes, her cheeks still tinged pink, and the ginger smiled at her.

“Come on Nali, it’s time to go home.”

Linking their hands together, Rosé scooped up both their bags and tugged Denali out of the office, down the familiar path towards her car so that she could drive them both home.

If Denali’s fingers were just a little tighter around hers than usual, Rosé didn’t say anything.

———

“Do you think it’d be weird if I asked Rosé out?”

Kandy looked up from her phone.

“What?”

Denali twiddled her thumbs, ignoring the look of utter disbelief on Kandy’s face.

It was the day after Denali had helped Rosé out with her case and they were both at the bar after work. Denali had been a lot more self conscious around Rosé than usual after having woken up from such a heated dream and in the arms of the very person she had been dreaming of. Rosé seemed to have not really noticed, having been too busy with working on the final touches of her case. By the end of the day, Denali had managed to slip out of the office after dropping a quick text to Rosé that she was leaving early and pulled a whining Kandy out to a random bar that thankfully hadn’t been too crowded.

She needed a drink badly and a friend to help sort through the mess of her thoughts, and at that point in time, Kandy had seemed like the perfect person.

“Bitch, aren’t you both already dating?”

Denali shook her head, looking up to thank the bartender when he dropped off both their drinks. “No, we’re not. We’ve just been- I don’t even know.”

Kandy continued staring at Denali, finally putting her phone away.

“So if you two haven’t been dating, or screwing each other-“

“Not this again-“

“Then what the fuck have you two been doing?”

“I don’t know!” Denali whined and Kandy rolled her eyes as she pulled her drink to her.

“Denali, the way the two of you have been acting, it’s almost as if you’re already married or something. She gives you gifts, drives you home, brings you out to lunch, heck she even fired that stupid girl the other day- Which was well deserved by the way because that bitch had it coming- So what do you think is happening between the two of you?”

Denali was silent. Kandy had a point.

“An office fl-“

“If you say office fling, I will smack you so hard-“

“Okay, maybe not an office fling-“

“You think?”

“But I still don’t know what it is,” Kandy stared incredulously at Denali. “We never actually talked about it.” She mumbled, shifting in her seat, suddenly feeling self conscious.

This time Kandy fell silent as the two of them drank from their glasses. There was a couple of seconds of thoughtful silence from Kandy before she finally asked.

“What do you want it to be?”

Denali was stunned. That was a question she hadn’t really thought of before. She had been so caught up on what was happening, on what it could be, on all the maybes, that she hadn’t stopped to think about what she actually wanted.

What she wanted them to be.

She pursed her lips in thought. Putting aside the fact that Rosé was a strong, intelligent and successful woman, she was also sweet and attentive. Sure, she could come across as proud at times, but that wasn’t without merit. She was warm and caring, and the things she said and did to Denali, the looks she gave and the words unspoken, Denali definitely didn’t hate it.

She loved it.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was true, what she had been avoiding. Maybe she really was in-

“Denali?”

Denali jumped in surprise, twisting around in her seat to find a familiar statuesque blonde woman.

“Kameron! It’s been a while.” She smiled brightly at Kameron.

“Too long, in my opinion,” Kameron smiled back charmingly, then gestured at the empty bar stool next to Denali. “May I?”

“Yes, of course.” Denali nodded profusely and Kameron sat next to her, ordering a gin and tonic from the passing bartender. Denali heard the sound of a throat clearing and remembered that Kandy was on her other side.

“Right, Kameron this is my friend Kandy. Kandy, this is Kameron.” Denali quickly introduced the two.

“Nice to meet you, Kandy.”

“Likewise, Miss Mi- Kameron.” Denali turned to look at Kandy, brows furrowed in confusion. She hadn’t mentioned Kameron’s surname, so why did it seem like Kandy knew what it was?

“So how have you been since I last saw you with Miss McCorkell at the gala?” Taking a sip of her drink once the bartender had dropped it off.

“Good, everything’s been good. Busy with cases, but then again, what’s new? What about you, Kameron? How’s your-” Denali paused, realising she didn’t know exactly what it was that Kameron did. Kameron caught on and chuckled in what seemed like a mixture of amusement and relief.

“I’ve been good too, busy. I realise that with what happened the last time, I never managed to get your number.”

“Oh.” Denali let out, surprised at Kameron’s forwardness.

“Can I have it? For business purposes, of course.”

Denali relaxed at that and agreed, keying her number into Kameron’s phone when she passed it over. Nodding, Kameron pocketed her phone and downed the rest of the drink before getting up.

“As short as our time was together, ladies, I have to go. Business calls.” Catching Denali’s hand, she dropped a kiss to the back of it with a smile. “I’ll be seeing you real soon, Denali.” Kameron winked at her, nodding at Kandy in farewell, then left.

Denali shook her head in amusement at Kameron’s antics and turned back to Kandy, only to find her friend staring at her with her mouth open.

“What?”

“What? What do you mean by what?! Denali, how is it that you managed to get the attention of both Rosé McCorkell and Kameron Michaels?”

Denali frowned. “Kameron? I just met her at the anniversary gala. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since then.”

Kandy narrowed her eyes, sceptical of Denali’s innocence.

“Do you even know who she is?”

“You mean Kameron?”

“Yes, I mean Kameron Michaels.”

Denali looked at her in confusion. “Why do you keep saying her name like that?”

“Oh god, you really don’t know, do you?” Kandy rolled her eyes. “What did I do to get a friend as clueless as you?”

Denali gasped and smacked Kandy’s arm. “Hey! I resent that. What’s the big deal about who she is anyways?”

“What’s the big deal- Girl, I’m not telling you shit. You can google her name later and find out yourself. Anyways, that’s not important. So what are you going to do about the situation between you and your hot boss?”

Denali groaned as she buried her face in her hands, her mind once again preoccupied with Rosé, the identity of Kameron now swept under the rug.

———

Denali stood in front of the lift doors with Rosé next to her, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse as they waited for the lift.

After her talk with Kandy, Denali had wanted to make the first move and ask Rosé out, but there was some hesitation on her part. As much as she wanted to ask her out, there was still a small seed of doubt in her. She was afraid that whatever she was feeling was one sided, and that there was a chance that this was all just a game to Rosé. Outside of work, she really didn’t know too much about her on a personal level.

When she had said as much to Kandy, the other girl had promptly smacked her up the back of her head and called her an overthinking idiot with a well meaning, “If you’re that unsure, then ask her!” tacked at the end.

“Denali?” She jolted and looked at Rosé. “Penny for your thoughts?” The redhead asked.

This was it, this was her moment. This was when she asked Rosé.

“I-” Denali looked into Rosé’s eyes, her heart skipping a beat.

“It’s nothing.”

She was a coward.

Rosé frowned, turning to face Denali as she reached out to catch Denali’s hand in hers.

“No baby, I can tell something is bothering you. The last time we didn’t talk, it ended with the both of us being miserable.” She tilted Denali’s chin up with her forefinger so that they were face to face. “Talk to me.”

Denali squirmed under Rosé’s watchful gaze, then finally blurted out.

“What does all of this mean?”

Rosé raised a brow.

“All of this?”

Denali nodded, the words she had been holding back now falling easily from her mouth. “Yes, everything. You know, the gifts, the jokes, driving me home almost all the time, the- The touches, all your gestures. I don’t want to mistake your kindness for anything other than that if that’s all it is.”

Rosé let out a laugh, the expression on her face falling into one of incredulity.

“Kindness? Is that really what you’ve been thinking? That I’ve only been doing all these things out of the goodness of my heart?”

The blonde blushed, suddenly feeling embarrassed for saying what she did. Maybe it was a mistake after all.

“I didn’t want to assume-” She stuttered, trying to turn away when she felt Rosé grip her chin between her thumb and index finger, forcing her to look her in the eye.

“Denali, let me make this clear to you to avoid any misunderstandings.”

Rosé took a step closer, the two of them now inches apart. Denali’s heart thudded loudly in her chest, her eyes unable to look away from Rosé’s.

“I. Want. You.”

Denali swallowed. “Is this your subtle way of saying you want to be my sugar mommy.” Denali joked weakly.

There was a pause before Rosé chuckled, the tension between them dissipating just a little. “Angel, if I wanted you as my sugar baby, I’d have just asked outright when I first saw you, and believe me when I say that you would have said yes.” She cupped Denali’s cheek. “Besides, I don’t want a sugar baby, and you wouldn’t make a very good one either.”

“That’s good, and thank you? I think.” Denali laughed nervously. Rosé’s eyes crinkled as she continued.

“I need someone who is so much more than just a pretty face. I need someone who’s smart and fights back. Someone who doesn’t just sit down and take it. What I would want is a partner. An equal.” Denali stared back at Rosé, speechless. She didn’t know what to say, not expecting Rosé to be so transparent with her.

Rosé stroked the blonde’s cheek with her thumb.

“And if it just so happens that I am able to spoil my partner, then I’d like to spoil my partner too.”

“What do you mean?” Denali asked, her heart racing.

“What do you think I’m saying?”

“I- I don’t know.”

Rosé shook her head, an amused smile stretching across her lips.

“Denali, you’re not stupid. You know exactly what I’m saying.”

Butterflies started fluttering in Denali’s stomach, her face warm and skin starting to tingle when Rosé cupped her face with both hands.

“But I have nothing that I can give you.” She whispered.

Rosé stepped closer to Denali.

“I don’t want anything from you,” She leaned in, their lips now just a hair's breadth away.

“I just want you.”

And the distance between the two of them disappeared as Rosé pulled Denali into a kiss.

She gasped and Rosé took advantage of that split second to slip in her tongue, the two of them tasting each other for the first time after months of dancing around each other. Denali dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around Rosé’s neck, letting herself drown in the sensation of being consumed by the other woman as she felt the hands on her face move, one moving down to her waist and holding her tight against the curves of Rosé’s body, and the other slid down to her ass, Denali squeaking when Rosé’s hand squeezed at it.

Rosé teased her for a few more seconds, before finally pulling away, taking in the dazed look on Denali’s face, both their lipsticks smudged and breathing heavier than before.

The blonde stared back at the other woman, before finally smiling, her eyes shining brightly.

“Rosé, will you go out with me?” She asked shyly, fingers playing with the loose curls at the nape of Rosé’s neck.

The redhead laughed, pulling her closer.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

And she pulled Denali in for another kiss.

[cuinnamonbun]

HC!! Imagine how funny it is that the brother think MC is suicidal or insane when they just speak out on their intruitive thoughts ☠️

The Brothers When GN!MC Says Their Intrusive Thoughts Out Loud

Lucifer

It was the ass-crack of dawn and he’d just finished a sizeable portion from his mountain of paperwork

He went into the kitchen for some coffee to freshen up when he saw MC there already sipping on their own cup

They seemed to be staring off into space, only giving him a nod as he muttered a good morning

It was a peaceful silence until MC decided to say some outta pocket shit

MC: Wouldn’t it be really fucked if I died in the Devildom not because of some demons but because of consuming excessive amounts melancholy coffee? That’d be pretty wild

MC....what

Lucifer only looked at them with exasperation before leaving the kitchen, mumbling that it’s too early for this shit

Mammon

For once, Mammon is calm enough that he’s not racing out of the house to go scam people or steal some valuable antiques

They were just chilling on MC’s bed side by side against the wall as he scrolled through Devilgram while MC is just daydreaming

It was all good vibes dude, Mammon even played some lofi music while they were chilling

Until MC decided to ruin it without even realising

MC: Dude....what if some random demon breaks in the House of Lamentation when I’m home alone and in the shower and he tries to kill me? Can you imagine fighting someone when you’re bare naked and completely drenched? I bet that demon’d get a great show before ending my existence, huh?

Mammon did a double take as he gaped at his human

HUMAN. FUCK KINDA DRUGS U ON???

Now he will never allow Lucifer to let them stay home alone (or leave them alone ever really)

MC has now found themselves a helicopter parent and a 24/7 bodyguard

Leviathan

He’d invited MC over to play this new video game he’d just bought from Akuzon

But MC was pretty groggy when they came by and decided to opt out lest they throw Levi off his mojo and hold him back

So now they’re just sitting next to him watching as he killed his enemies with ease, progressing through the levels with barely a sweat

The last guy that Levi had to kill before he could move on to the next stage had his spine broken by the game’s protagonist

Of course, it sparked some thoughts in MC’s brain

MC: Damn if my spine just snapped right now, would I feel it? Or would I just be immediately paralysed and die?

Levi had to pause and gape at MC for almost an hour before he went nuts

Levi: WHYYYYY IN HELL WOULD YOU THINK THAT????

Now MC has to calm this ball of crippling anxiety by ensuring him that they didn’t mean to say their intrusive thoughts out loud

poor Levi, you’d better comfort him as best you can MC

Satan

They were both watching some of the stray cats at the back of the house eating the cat food that Satan had brought

It was peaceful, neither of them were talking since it was still early in the morning and MC had just gotten out of bed

They were absentmindedly petting one of the kittens as they ate by their feet when they foolishly opened their mouth

MC: What if I just...picked this kitten up and throw it as hard as I can against the wall?

If Satan wasn’t awake then, he was awake now

He pulled the kitten away from MC before turning to them in a fit of rage

....which (just barely) sizzled out when he noticed just how sluggish they look

Ah, then it clicked in him. He’s read about this; they were having intrusive thoughts

He understands of course, he has had some of his own too but...as a precaution, he will no longer allow them anywhere near his cats

Asmodeus

They were having their bi-weekly spa night together in his room

Usually MC would be pretty amped up during this time but given how much RAD assigns them homeworks, projects, assignments and tests, they were pretty burned out by the time Asmo was pampering them

Asmo didn’t mind the quiet, he already has his playlist out and he knew how tired MC was so just relax, darling and let him take care of you ;)

He was applying the clay mask on MC’s face when they suddenly opened their eyes to look into Asmo’s

MC: I wonder what clay mask tastes like. Do you think I’ll die if I just...eat a dollop of it

Are you really MC or has Beelzebub somehow taken hold of your body?

Asmo would be so concerned

Asmo: Darling! Don’t do that, if you’re hungry we can go and grab some snacks from the kitchen, but don’t go around and eat skincare!

It would be an hour-long lecture about how skincare is expensive and how you shouldn’t eat it no matter how much the company advertises it like it’s food before he drags them downstairs to get some snacks before resuming their spa-night

Beelzebub

They were down the kitchen doing their midnight snack run

It’s not something that they planned to do together, but sometimes when Beel is down in the kitchen hunting for food in the middle of the night, MC would join him

Beel was scrounging for food in the pantry while MC was eating some ice cream on the countertop, leisurely kicking their feet back and forth

Of course he emerged with a whole roasted duck

He was cutting into the duck as he ate it because he is a well-mannered boy even as Gluttony :)

The way he cut into the meat with ease and then devoured the whole thing in minutes somehow sparked something in MC’s mind

MC: Can you imagine if I get kidnapped by a Hannibal-like demon and instead of devouring me like how you’d expect an animal to, they just elegantly eat me like I’m some five-course meal at a Michelin-grade restaurant. That’d be pretty funny

Beel had to stop eating to gawk at MC

This poor man’s brain was processing what the fuck they just said before he went full blown concern

Beel: MC!! Don’t make me think that!!!

Now MC has another (unofficial) bodyguard tailing them wherever they go and ensuring that they’re never alone whenever they go out

Belphegor

The two of them were in the attic, taking a well-deserved nap after a tiring day at RAD

Or well, MC is attempting to at least

They were just so tired to the point where they just couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard they tried to

The constant tossing and turning by MC really irked Belphie so he just wrapped his arms, legs and tail around them to keep them from moving

This just forces MC to lie still and stare up at the ceiling as their fatigued yet overly hyper mind started thinking all sorts of things

MC: We are literally pieces of meat on a rock floating through space, and our lives are ruled by little pieces of paper, so technically....I could throw myself off the side of the cliff and life would still continue on as we know it

Okay, now Belphie is wide awake (or...half awake?)

Is this human just too fatigued or are they just insanely suicidal

He would grumble and hold onto them tighter as if to prevent them from running off and actually yeeting themselves off of a cliff

Belphie: For the love of Hell, please just go to sleep you insane human

[chalkrevelations]

OK, Word of Honor, Episode 9, and I know last time I got deep in the weeds about symbolism, but this week, I’m getting back to basics and rambling on (and on) about what this show is really about: Zhou Zishou and Wen Kexing and their relationship.

First, though, the usual warning: SPOILERS. Not just for this episode, but potentially for the entire show, so drive past and circle back around later if you want to watch all 36.5 eps unspoiled.

Bear with me on this one, because this ep spends a LOT of time on ZZS and WKX, and I think a lot of that time is ZZS making some Monumental Life Decisions, including how he’s going to proceed in this relationship and how he’s going to approach his life moving forward. But I’m finding myself needing to work through it chronologically, and it’s. A Lot. Also, let’s face it, ZZS has been my ride-or-die at least since he dropped to his knees and started disrobing in the middle of the throne room in Ep 1, so a chance to wallow in his emotional journey is a chance I’m gonna take.

So, we do have a brief opener when we find out Dead Guy who the Yueyang disciple was shrieking about at the end of the last ep is Fang Buzhi, AKA the Nine Clawed Fox, the guy who lifted WKX’s (Danyang) Glazed Armor (along with some replicas). He got got by mysterious somebodies in the previous episode, and we find out now that he has three tiny needles in his neck, which ZZS recognizes as a Tian Chuang technique. This leads ZZS to 1) assume it must have been Han Ying who did it, so the (Danyang) Glazed Armor is now in the hands of Tian Chuang, and 2) realize that maybe this is not the best place for the former leader of Tian Chuang to be hanging out right now, so he makes their excuses, because he knows that Gao Chong must be VERY BUSY now that he’s got this corpse on his hands, so they’ll just BE GOING, thanks so much. Gao Chong hopes to see them at the Hero’s Conference, and WKX responds in a Significant Tone that of course he’ll be at the Hero’s Conference, and now ZZS has his Thinky Face on again, because WKX is not nearly as subtle as he seems to think he is when he’s making Pronouncements.

The ZZS/WKX Show really starts kicking into gear that night, at the Getting Lucky Good Luck Inn, where we open on ZZS wandering contemplatively around his room, looking beautiful in the soft light of evening (your FACE, Zhang Zhehan) and ruminating on Prince Jin’s motives for wanting the Glazed Armor, like he’s never met this power-hungry asshole before. Also, he thinks to himself, wtf was that, with Gao Chong keeping anybody from seeing Chengling in the last ep? There’s a knock on the door, which momentarily confuses him - understandably, because as we’ll see, WKX doesn’t generally get the concept of announcing yourself and waiting to be invited in by knocking first, preferring to dramatically bust open doors (at least to ZZS’s bedroom) and grace you with his presence, whatever your thoughts on the matter are. He’s accompanied by waiters and dinner, and ZZS realizes his senses are going, presumably because he can’t smell this spread that WKX has procured in an attempt to prove what a good provider he is (what did I say about food and bonding? ZZS fed him in the market, and now it’s his turn to feed ZZS). WKX tells us that life is just three hots and a cot - which gives away more about your life than you would likely be comfortable with us knowing, Lao Wen, given how close to the vest you’re holding your cards – and that everything else can wait if you can have a meal with someone you like. :coff: (Also, remember this, it will come around again.)

Cut to dinner by flickering candlelight, the better for soft lighting to caress ZZH’s exquisite face, but ZZS isn’t into it at all, staring into space instead of eating WKX’s proffered Courtship Delicacies. This earns what’s possibly WKX’s most hypocritical and amusing comment yet, which is to ask ZZS, “What is it that you can’t tell me?” ZZS - apparently - is still feeling soft about WKX’s help against Tian Chuang’s Chengling-kidnapping attempt - or maybe he’s thinking that a little bit of opening up on his part will soften up WKX - because he hardly has to have a spoon dug into his ribs at all to admit that he’s wondering if it was a mistake to bring Chengling to Five Lakes Alliance. My dude, just steal him back, then. WKX laughs at him and tells him he’s got such a handsome face (true) along with a kind and innocent heart (false, he’s a former government spook and assassin, a part-time ill-tempered gremlin, and a whole-ass troll), and therefore girls will clearly go crazy for him (true, just ask me). ANYWAY, A-Xu, (WKX continues) now that the requisite random no-homo boilerplate is out of the way, are you really thinking of taking on Chengling as a disciple, because now is apparently not too soon to have the adoption conversation about Our Son. I almost expect him to pull out the adoption papers then and there. Instead, he pulls out a story - which is awkwardly placed and kind of clunky, actually, despite being thematically important - of a dog he had once, given to him by Someone Very Important, although of course he’s not going to say who that was (:facepalm:), and his mother warning him that he’d have to take care of it for life, and then he betrayed it.

So, there’s a lot going on here. We’ll eventually find out that ZZS gave Zhen Yan a puppy, so will this story of a gift dog jog ZZS’s memory into realizing that WKX is Zhen Yan without WKX actually telling him, so that WKX can tell his Bundle of Neuroses that it’s not reeeaaallly WKX’s fault ZZS figured it out? Also, WKX sees ZZS being like this about Chengling, and in the Chengling = Zhen Yan equation we’ve already established, is it possible this will prime ZZS to remember another disciple/young boy he took responsibility for, at one point? Of course, on ZZS’s side of things, it’s possible that hearing about this dog that WKX failed is likely to remind him of the way he failed his own responsibility to all the other disciples of Siji Manor, so, excellent way to take a stab at his heart, WKX! However, ZZS breaks the miserable tone we’ve become mired in by smacking WKX, chiding him for comparing their son to a dog, and getting them drinking. See, here, Chengling is the dog. Earlier, the two sisters A-Xiang rescued were the dog. Later, A-Xiang will be the dog. Unfortunately, WKX is going to have a blind spot and never quite realize that, in the Ghost Valley schema he’s set up, the Department of the Unfaithful is also the dog, but we’ll get to that in later eps. For now, cut to later that night: After dinner and a washup, ZZS sits on his bed, and we get some special effects to indicate that his hearing is also giving him problems, so he deploys his special Nightly Nails Torment meditation pose, and then we get the second instance of WKX playing the xiao to help him meditate and rest. (Junjun, your hands on that xiao …) ANYWAY, we get a gorgeous little bit of physical acting from ZZH here that could easily have been overplayed but is nicely restrained and subtle, with just the slightest smile when ZZS realizes WKX is playing, and then his whole body visibly relaxing as he allows himself to sink into WKX’s now-familiar musical embrace the meditation. It is :chef’s kiss:

Cut to next AM, when ZZS is now a very cranky boy, and I get this, because I also am exceedingly irritated when people bust into the room where I’m sleeping with an abundance of cheerfulness and try to get me to interact and do things without at least half an hour to creep my way out of bed, two cups of coffee, and an hour of silence before any attempts to converse like a reasonable human being (I’m looking at YOU, mom), and I don’t even have the excuse of seven Nails pinning me. Also, when WKX whips off the blankets, we learn that ZZH dresses to the right. :hands: I’m just making an observation. So, WKX wants to go to Yuefan Tower like some kind of wide-eyed tourist, and despite some smacking and scowling and death threats, we then smash-cut to the Tower, where ZZS has apparently come to the conclusion that the only way to deal with the ADHD gremlin crawling into his bed is to humor him about this daytrip. I think you could have come up with some more creative ideas that didn’t involve leaving bed, but I guess you’re not the fast one in this relationship, Zhou-ge. Srsly, though, I’m sure WKX would have been happy to do all the work, my dude. (I don’t always have strong top-bottom preferences, but you probably aren’t going to have much luck convincing me that ZZS is not a pillow princess who wants to just lay back and be spoiled. “Aren’t you a very capable man?” indeed. WKX has to do ALL THE WORK, god. I don’t know if I’m swimming against the current here – god knows I was in Inception fandom, where I felt the same way about Eames - but here we are.) Also, I can’t believe WKX didn’t just sit in the bedroom and creep on A-Xu’s beautiful sleeping profile for at least the amount of time it would have taken to drink a pot of tea, another viable option if it was me in this scenario. Tch. What kind of stalker are you, Lao Wen?

ANYWAY, at Yuefang Tower, ZZS tells us about the Four Sages of Anji, a senior-citizen polycule of soulmates who are, conveniently, at this very moment, on a boat in the lake beside the tower, playing music and sword-dancing. This is the first time they’ve been seen in 10+ years, after they put down their various swords and ran off together to live like hippies off-the-grid in the woods, probably skipping around naked, drinking “tea,” and having lots of sex. ZZS sighs wistfully while recounting this tale and calls them “a breath of fresh air.” There’s some discussion and poetry quoting and literary references to soulmates, and somewhere in here we get a shot of ZZS and WKX from behind which makes it super-obvious how hard they’re working the costumes to make Gong Jun look as broad as possible. He’s got the power shoulders on this set of robes, compared to Laopo ZZS’s soft, unstructured, flowing robes, and with those shoulders tapering down to the belted waist, they’ve got Junjun seriously working the Chris Evans Dorito silhouette. Meanwhile, focus back on their conversation: ZZS thinks that “the world is not important, finding a soulmate is,” giving some MAJOR FORESHADOWING for the end of the show (which we are accepting as “Ep” 37 because WE ARE), when we get that icy separation from the rest of the world but they have each other. WKX gives him a yearning look. ZZS looks back … there’s really no other way to put this … coyly, not meeting WKX’s gaze directly. This offers WKX and us a chance to admire his profile once again, thank you, Laopo. ZZS waits until WKX looks back out at the lake before looking at him directly, and his face journey, y’all. He’s thinking that it might not be bad to spend his remaining time with this soulmate, I think he’s starting to re-think the slow suicide, and he’s also thisclose to just letting WKX have him. Y’all, he seriously wants WKX so bad, here. It may be the first time we’ve seen this level of interest from him - it may be the first time, in all that we’ve seen of him, that he allows himself to even have that kind of interest. I think this is the next big step from Ep 6, when he allowed himself to enjoy being desired - now he’s allowing himself to desire, to want something again, other than a chance to drink himself to death in the gutter. This, right here, is a crucial point when he makes the decision to spend whatever time he’s got left living rather than just dying, and I’m flailing on the couch. This is the face of a man who’s ready to Make Some Declarations while getting railed within an inch of his life. SOMEONE IS GETTING SOME TONIGHT. Or he would if he wasn’t going to turn out to be such a fuckup. FFS, WKX.

But first, we cut to a scene of them back at the marketplace, wandering through as WKX mocks various sects in town for the conference – including the Mount Hua boys, who apparently look like virgins make their first trip to a brothel – and ZZS supplies background info on them. WKX asks if ZZS can tell what sect WKX is from, and ZZS calls him a messy bitch before asking if WKX can please stop making him play guessing games about everything and just tell him what WKX so clearly wants ZZS to know. (I know, right? But no, because then WKX might get what he wants, and he’s way too terrified for that, so you have to guess. That way, it’s not his fault when you figure out who he is and reject him, as anyone clearly will do because he’s unlovable and unforgiveable and not even really human, A-Xu.) WKX immediately changes the subject to ramble about the Hero’s Conference and how laughable all the sects are for wanting to be seen as heroes, blah blah blah, rinse and repeat. ZZS comments that only inexperienced people want to be heroes, that experienced people know “every character of the word hero is written in blood,” and yes, the character they’re using for hero, “ying,” is still the same character used in Han Ying’s name (which is not, by the way, the “ying” used in Wei Ying’s name, to cross streams for a moment). ZZS says he’s too old to be a hero (I and my knees feel you, my dude), now he’s just a wanderer, and he asks if WKX wants to be a hero or a wanderer, and WKX says that as a wanderer, all he needs is ZZS, and I’m telling you, someone absolutely would be getting some tonight if only he wasn’t such a fuckup, Lao Wen.

I’m’a try to wrap this up soon, because it’s gotten v. long, but we then cut to that night at the Getting Lucky Inn, ZZS drinking in his room, WKX busting in with his usual dramatic flair, with wine, inviting ZZS up to the roof to drink and look at the moon. He clearly has ulterior motives, but unfortunately for everyone, we’re going to discover they’re not the ulterior motives ZZS is expecting. As they lean back on the roof together, hands almost-but-not-quite touching, a romantic tune playing, WKX tells ZZS that he’s like, really happy! Just super happy! So happy! Ask me why I’m so happy, A-Xu! Spoiler alert: It is, unfortunately, not because he’s getting ready to get some from his laopo. This is particularly unfortunate, because ZZS chooses this moment to take another big step in this relationship, telling WKX that he’s not going to ask about things WKX doesn’t want to tell him, that he’ll wait for whatever WKX wants to tell him. On the surface, this comes off a little bit like, I’m done with asking when you’re not going to answer anyway, but in context – particularly on the back of the earlier scene when ZZS watched WKX turn on a dime and immediately change the subject to avoid exposing anything when ZZS asked WKX to stop making him guess everything – this is as good as a declaration of going all-in. ZZS is committing to this relationship on faith, without having all – or even most – of the answers about WKX, and his approach is going to be to wait until WKX is ready to reveal whatever information he feels safe and comfortable revealing. In practice, he’s going to end up being better or worse at this, depending on the day, but what it reminds me of, already, is that moment in the 20s (Ep 21? 22?) when A-Xiang and Cao Weining are arguing about her killing the beggar guy, he approaches her, she yells at him and points to the ground to indicate exactly how close he’s allowed to get to her, and his respect of that boundary she lays down is instantaneous and absolute. That’s what ZZS is saying he’s going to at least try to do, here. It also reminds me of the way he’s going to respect WKX’s decision on whether or not WKX is going to claim his place as a disciple of Siji Manor, without it affecting their relationship, so we really are starting as ZZS means to go on, here.

Unfortunately, we then find out that what WKX is actually so happy about is that his plan to burn down the jianghu is starting its next big step, and their romantic evening is interrupted by a bunch of dudes fighting and killing each other over a bunch of fake Glazed Armor. WKX mentions that he’s so happy the show’s started; he’s alternately amused, satisfied, and smug as they watch various fights; he seems to be expecting ZZS to also be amused; and I feel like the implication is that this was his real motive for inviting ZZS out onto the roof, to be able to watch this show with him. ZZS – who’s spent enough time standing ankle-deep in blood for six lifetimes and was working hard just a few weeks ago at drinking himself to death to try to forget what that feels like - is displeased and horrified, rather than very proud of what WKX has accomplished; he pushes WKX away from him when WKX approaches him to ask if he doesn’t think it’s all so very amusing; and he calls WKX crazy, then turns his back on him and walks away. To make things worse, the next morning, after WKX brings breakfast to ZZS’s room and actually knocks, only to find that ZZS has left in the middle of the night, WKX will witness an angry mob gathered outside the house in the woods where the Four Sages of Anji are staying for the Hero’s Conference, demanding a piece of the Glazed Armor the Sages are supposedly holding for Gao Chong, and eventually leading to the deaths of all four of these peaceful aging hippies whose commune in the woods was ZZS’s ultimate dream, leaving WKX horrified by the fact that his actions have consequences, including some that are going to make his boyfriend even more pissed off at him.

SO. All that happened. There were some other people in the episode, too:

We see A-Xiang and Cao Weining having lunch. She asks him why he’s not eating, calls him fat and cute, then proceeds to tell him about Ghoul, who likes to eat the faces of pretty boys. Her conversation skills could still use some work. Cao Weining vows to kill the ghosts of Ghost Valley who would do such awful things. A-Xiang actually ignores this slander about the evil of the residents of the Ghost Valley in a way that she doesn’t usually – usually she looks kind of unhappy when the Evilness of the Evil Inhabitants of the Evil Ghost Valley comes up, going all the way back to ZZS’s comments in Ep 2. Right now, she’s too busy pumping Pooh Bear for information, asking about why the Ghost Valley would have left a pile of heads on Yueyang’s doorstep if the Five Lakes Alliance is so great, so what is Five Lakes going to maybe, perhaps, do about this? Cao-dage is suspicious … that A-Xiang might be scared, but don’t worry, he’ll protect her. Oh, sweetheart. I could eat you up with a spoon, right along with Ghoul. Also, it finally registers that A-Xiang called him cute, but she has to step away for a quick confab with a henchwoman.

We also have to watch Chengling get bullied some more by a Yueyang shixiong who I think is Gao Shan, who we’ll later see bullying some prisoners in the Yueyang dungeon as he admits that he’s doing it to relieve his own frustrations and make himself feel better -  fantastic disciples you’ve got there, Gao Chong, I’m super-impressed by the morality and ethics you’re instilling as a sect. Once again, I have to consider WKX’s position on the jianghu as a hive of scum and villainy. Anyway, once Bullying Hour is over, Chengling runs into A-Xiang, and he can’t manage to prevent the waterworks as he confesses that he thought he’d never see any of them again and that ZZS didn’t want him. UGH. Zhou Zishu, come and get your child back. He’s at least somewhat mollified by Xiang-jie telling him she’s been sent to take care of him, and god knows she’s managed to keep WKX fed and clothed this long, so she has some experience as a minder, as counterintuitive as that seems.

We get a quick shot of Han Ying (My Beloved) with two identical pieces of Glazed Armor, apparently realizing that there are fakes out there.

Deng Kuan shows up, beaten and stumbling, and nearly gets turned away at the front gates of his own sect as a beggar – have I mentioned how unimpressed I am by the Yueyang disciples? Deng Kuan appears to be the only one of them worth anything – before they realize who he is. He is put to bed and tenderly nursed by Gao Xiaolian, who cries over him as he won’t wake up.

Finally, Gao Chong, Shen Shen and Zhao Jing (uh-huh) are horrified to discover that there’s fake Glazed Armor fk’n everywhere in town, making Five Lakes Alliance look ridiculous, which is just fabulous as the Hero’s Conference is coming up, guys. Shen Shen, because everything is a nail, vows to kill anyone who makes problems. Later, Hei Zi, who plays Gao Chong, has an utterly fantastic moment after the deaths of the Four Sages (wow, I did not remember that we wrapped up their entire storyline within a single ep), when he’s haranguing Beggar Gang Chief and is literally all, “You want the Glazed Armor? :pulls a piece out of his robe: HERE. You want some more? :pulls another piece out of his robe: TAKE IT.” It’s a great acting moment, his delivery is perfection.

[buckysgoldenheart]

Safe House: August Walker x Reader

Summary: Someone threatens you and so your boyfriend, August, must take you to his safe house.

Words: 3463

Following part: Part 2 (One Year Later)

Note: Not AU really, but doesn’t follow Mission Impossible at all. This is just how I picture a fluffy August who loves his woman.

P.S. This was not edited phenomenally. I have no excuses to feed you. I was just tired ;)

(There are not enough August Walker gifs in this world)

Safe House:

On the days he told you he would hopefully be coming home to you, you stayed up all night, always, until sunrise. And if he didn’t come home that night, then you worried until the next night. Night after night after night until he walked through that door and you could finally breathe again.

It was an entire week this time, that August left you wondering. More days had gone by past the day he promised you than ever before. He had sent no note delivered by a random man with a riddle only you and August knew the answer to. And that was only in the most extreme of cases. More often there was a phone call, quick but reassuring. Not this time, and images of him being tortured or dying flashed through your mind, consuming you, as your fingers trembled around your coffee mug.

Just as the tears began to stream down your paling cheeks, the multiple locks August demanded you have on your door turned and opened one by one until he could freely walk inside. The weight on your chest lifted and you let out a tiny cry of relief, but August, your boyfriend you went a month and a half without seeing, stormed right passed you into the bedroom.

You sat up sharply and put the mug on the table, following him into the bedroom you shared. He hadn’t bothered to turn on one of the lamps, so all you could really see was his form grab a suitcase from the closet, throw it on the bed, wide open, and begin to shove as much clothing inside it as he could.

You stood in the doorway, your eyes adjusting to the darkness and pushing through the tears clouding them. “August,” you spoke softly, thankful he was alive, but heartbroken he had ignored you on his way in. “August,” you tried a little louder. “What is happening? Are you leaving again?”

“Not me,” he said, pausing for a moment to meet your stare. “We.” Then he turned back to his task of throwing things into a suitcase. “Are ten shirts, seven pairs of pants, two dresses, and four pairs of shoes enough for you?”

“Enough for what?” You asked. “August, you’re scaring me.” You walked in the room and touched his arm, stilling his movements so he would look at you. “What is happening?” His eyes, sadder than you had seen them before, roamed over every inch of your face as if he would never get to see it again. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. “August—”

“Do you love me?”

“W-What?”

“You do, don’t you?” He lightly pleaded.

“Of course, I love you, August, but I still do not understand what is going on.”

He sighed in relief, but you didn’t miss the uneasy look on his face. “I’m…fuck…I’m a bit more…higher up than I told you.”

“In…what? Work?”

“Yes.”

You crossed your arms over your middle and swallowed. “What does that mean?”

“I kill more important people than I told you: prime ministers, presidents, royalty, people with families; all of them bad people, but important. I place bombs, I dismantle bombs, both that could and have destroyed half a city.”

“So…was last month in Istanbul—"

“Yes.” He walked over to your dresser and shoved it aside with ease, unlocked the small vault behind it with the pass-code only the two of you knew, and pulled out three guns before placing them between piles of folded clothes in the suitcase. “I have a safe house,” He said. “One even Hunt doesn’t know about.”

“Dad?”

Your eyes widened and he hummed in acknowledgement.

“Dad is with Ilsa, isn’t he? Something about Morocco. That’s all he could say.”

“Yea, he’s been assigned there for a bit. That’s where I am supposed to be, too; right now interrogating the head of the Crown Prince of Morocco’s security because of—” He met your eyes and paused, then shook his head slightly, always unsure of what information could put you in danger, “…certain reasons.”

“I thought you were in London.”

“Yea, I was. Morocco was next. I was going to call you as soon as I could, but…things got complicated.” August quickly walked to the kitchen and returned with a plastic sandwich bag and paper towel, then went to your jewelry box and pulled out two necklaces: one that was your mother’s, and one that he had bought for you when he told you he loved you for the first time. ‘Just in case you were on the fence about me, I thought this might sway you,’ he had said. You laughed, he clasped the necklace around your neck, and you made love over and over, exchanging ‘I love yous” the entire night. Since then, you wore the one he had given you when he moved into your place with the promise that he would never leave you.

You watched as he carefully wrapped up the jewelry in the paper towel, put them in the baggie and zip them safely into a side pocket of the case. “August, please, please tell me that ‘things got complicated’ does not mean that something got fucked up and now my father is supposed to kill you…again.”

“What?” August stopped in his tracks, noticing how every inch of you tensed with stress. “No, baby. No.” He glanced around the room for anything he might have missed. “Anything else you want to take with us?”

You looked around too, not seeing a thing, but then ran into the hallway and took a photo of the both of you off the wall: you and him kissing at your friend’s wedding, both of you completely unaware of the camera man behind you. It clearly showed your love for him and his for you, and so it became, and remained, your favorite.

Back in the room, you placed it on top of everything else in the suitcase, keeping it in the frame to protect it. August smiled at seeing the picture, grabbed your waist, and pulled you close. “I love you,” He whispered, his lips brushing over yours. You smiled slightly and fully placed your mouth to his. All it took was a moment before his hand began to slide around your waist to cup your ass. Then, you reached your arms up and began to twine your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, knowing fully well how that turned him on. You had missed his touch so bad, and he yours, so it took no time to feel him hard, pressed against you.

He pulled back fast, huffing out breaths as you chuckled. “We can’t do this now. We really need to get going.”

Your smile fell. “You still haven’t explained.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” He said, closing the suitcase.

“Give me the short version.”

“Short version,” He mumbled to himself as he pulled the bag off the bed, a small smile on his face at your persistence. “Ok, short version: a guy that I really would rather not know about you, now knows about you.”

“What? Like, a bad guy?”

“Not a super bad one, but…yea.” He cringed as he said the last word. This whole thing was one giant nightmare; his worst, actually. How you weren’t panicking he didn’t know. Maybe it was because you were Hunt’s daughter, but August seemed to feel much more stressed about this than you.

“How? Dad changed me in the system. No one knows my real name but you, him, and the team.”

“I know. We don’t know how. But this guy had your picture and your name, and that was enough for Hunt…and me. Hunt has the guy, but you never know what could happen. He might have people to get him out, he might not, but he made some serious threats and we aren’t risking it, so Hunt and I agreed. I come home, get you and take you somewhere safe that no one else knows about and stay there until further notice.”

You crossed your arms. “And dad is just fine with a man he practically cannot stand coming and taking his daughter away to some random location he can’t track down?”

“Right,” August walked towards you, bag in hand, and motioned you out the door. “Well, he kind of knows about the two of us and figured out of anyone, I’d do the best at protecting you.”

You turned fast with a death glare in your eye and placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “What do you mean he knows about us?”

August sighed knowing now was not the time to do this, but well aware that fighting your stubbornness was a losing game. He ran his free hand through his dark curls. “You said he can’t stand me, right?”

“Yes.”

“He ever tell you why?”

“Not specifically.”

“Well, this is why. He does not like that I assassinate by day and sleep with his daughter by night.”

“Oh my God, August!” Both of your hands shoved at his chest, but the brick wall that was your boyfriend did not move an inch.

“Hey, it’s not all me, ok? After we met, he noticed that I asked about you all the time, but apparently you asked about me all the time, too, so you were no sneakier than I was.” He raised a hand in an ‘oh well’ gesture and stepped around you back into the kitchen.

“Oh God,” You groaned and your head fell back. “…Fine.”

“Peanut butter?” He called.

Annoyed, you said, “Yea.”

Arms crossed again, you rounded the corner and watched the muscles of his shoulders shift a little under his shirt as he took a knife full of peanut butter and slathered it on the bread. “We have an eight-hour drive to the helicopter, three hours flying to the boat, and then it’s just an hour on the boat to the house. How many do you want?”

“Eight. Six for me, two for you.”

August whipped around with a pained expression “Cold.”

“Fine. Five for me, three for you.”

“Better, but still chilly.”

You walked up wrapped your arms around his waist. “You keep it up, I’ll make it seven for me, one for you.”

“You do not know where my safe house is, I do. Choose your words wisely, miss,” he said, then dabbed a bit of the peanut-y goodness on the tip of your nose. “Are you going to eat that, or do I need to lick it off?”

You pretended to think for a moment. “Lick it off.”

He did, and your eyes and nose scrunched as you giggled. “Fuck, I’m just going to bring the jar.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out later.” He smiled seductively and finished spreading the peanut butter on the bread. “Jam for some, honey for the others?”

“Yea.” He knew you too well.

“You have everything you want?”

You took one last look at the house you and August had secretly—or thought, secretly—shared, not knowing when, or if, you would be back. “I think so.”

When you turned back to him, he was shoving the last of the sandwiches in a paper bag. With his free hand he touched your cheek lovingly. “Baby, I’m so sorry about this. I never wanted to have to take you away from our home.”

“It’s ok.” You placed your hand on his. “You are home.”

August smiled sadly, still feeling guilty, but leaned down to kiss you. “You are home,” He sighed as he touched his forehead to yours. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

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

With a guiding hand on your back, August led you through the front door of the house no one else had seen before. “Sorry, it’s probably dusty.”

Once inside, he set the suitcase down and flipped a switch that had the lights above flickering before settling into a soft glow. You looked around the small place that was fully and completely him. It was not a perfect place; shabbier and creakier like an old cabin, which it basically was, but it was your boyfriend. His things were scattered around the place, left over from when he probably had to leave quick. It smelled like him. A manly, piney, citrus scent still lingered even though he had mentioned the last time he stepped foot in the place was three years ago, nine months before he met you. You could practically see ghosts of him from the many times he had been there before. You pictured him making the cans of soup you could see in the cupboard from the wide open doors; or reading the book on the small table by a large chair, the spine cracked from where it split to the page he left off on.

“I don’t care.” You smiled. “I like it.”

Though you couldn’t see it, August smiled too and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind to pull your body against his. He placed a long kiss on your shoulder, then your neck, then your cheek, then his fingers slowly tilted your head to the side so he could kiss your lips.

“I’m glad you like it. You’ll be safe here, Y/N. I promise.”

You chuckled. “If you’re the one watching me, I’m pretty sure I’d be safe anywhere.”

“You know it,” He said, placing another kiss on your neck before releasing you and giving your ass a gentle swat. He picked up the bag and took it to what you could only assume was the bedroom.

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

One Month Later

You woke up to the sunlight streaming through a window and turned to find your boyfriend absent from his side of the bed. It was five thirty in the morning when you glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand; way too early to be awake, and you certainly felt the exhaustion from the three rounds you went with August the night before.

You stood and groaned. Your bones seemed to creak along with the bed, but your mood instantly perked up when you heard August’s voice just outside the bedroom door. It was open just a crack and with an attentive ear you could make out his words as he stood tall in the living room.

“He’s permanently locked up then?” He asked the person on the other end of the phone he had in his hand. He listened and nodded a few times, before saying “She is good, I promise.”

…

“No, she’s still asleep,”

August ran fingers through his hair and pressed a button on the phone he had made sure was untraceable. He set the phone down on the counter so he could start a pot of coffee. Then your fathers deep tone came through clear.

“Look, Walker, I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but thank you…for protecting her,” He said, and you smiled at the rare kindness he directed towards your boyfriend.

August poured a few cups of water into the pot and pressed ‘start.’ “You don’t have to thank me, Hunt. You know I love her.” He cleared his throat and ran fingers through his hair again; an action you knew he usually made when his anxiety spiked. “Hunt, about what I asked you before Morocco…”

“I know what I said,” Your father interrupted. “But after all of this…I honestly think you’re the only man for the job.”

And audible sigh of relief slipped passed August’s full lips. “You changed your mind?”

“After I thought about what you said you’re willing to give up, I realized you are serious about this.”

“I am,” August said, a certain determination in his voice.

“You would have to…” Your father paused, ensuring August understood. He had used that tone on you many times as a child. “…you know…give it up.”

August poured a cup of coffee for himself and turned to lean against the counter. You quickly ducked away from the door for fear he could see your eyes spying on him through the small crack, but when you chanced a look back, he seemed to be staring into space, shuffling through his thoughts. “It would be worth it. More than worth it.” August gave a close-lipped smile. “I never really enjoyed this anyway.

You father sighed through the speaker. “None of us really do.”

“That is true.” August’s chest puffed for a second in a silent laugh and took another sip of coffee. “I have to go. Your daughter is spying on me.”

Fuck, you thought. Completely busted. You inched the door open with a guilty look as your boyfriend eyed you and ended the call with a click. After setting the coffee cup on the counter, he crossed his arms and rose an eyebrow at you.

“Not the stealthiest, huh?” You chuckled nervously.

“You might have been had you not been spying on a man in the CIA.”

“Sorry, baby.” August snickered as he reached out a hand. You walked to him and he pulled you in close with a kiss to your forehead. “What were you talking about? It was very cryptic.”

He hummed. “Maybe it’s too dangerous for you to know.”

You looked up and met bright blue eyes. “Is it?”

“…No.”

“Well,” You began, drawing out the word with an innocent smile. “If it wasn’t about a mission, why can’t I know? A civil conversation with my dad is a little suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No, babe. We are the best of pals when we are on assignment.”

August’s eyes lit up as you let out a loud laugh. “Bullshit. Stop delaying and spill it, Mister.”

He swayed you back and forth in his arms, taking some time to think about how to say what you were demanding he tell you. “I plan to take a demotion…of sorts,” He said, way too casually for you.

You pulled out of his arms and your eyebrows knitted together. “What? August—”

“I want to do it.”

“Why? What does it mean for you if you do?” Slowly, he stepped to you and led you to the couch in the room. When you sat, he lifted your legs, laid them across his thick thighs, and placed a hand on your knee. “August…” You said, pulling his attention away from your legs.

His lips quirked up at the ends. “It means that I will be home more. Much more. It means that I won’t be putting myself in as dangerous of situations. It means you’ll be safer.” He raised a calloused hand to cup your cheek and stroked the corner of your lips with his thumb. Your eyes closed as you settled into his touch. “It means I can marry you.”

Immediately, your eyelids shot back open and as your lips parted, August took the opportunity to run that thumb once over your bottom lip before his fingers left your face. “What?”

“When Hunt tells me we are good to leave here, which should be in about a week, it means it’s over. I’m done. I won’t have to go back in the game if I don’t put myself there.”

“Can you do that? Sloane—”

He shook his head. “Won’t be a problem.”

“How?”

“I made a deal with Sloane a few years ago, when you and I started dating. When the time is right, if I take a step down, I’ll do what she asks, train five new recruits to be even better than I am, and…” He paused, “I won’t reveal certain information about her husband.”

Your hand covered your smile of awe for a moment. “You’re actually doing all of this just so you can marry me?”

“Of course, I am. Marriage doesn’t exactly work well when people do what I do. Hunt had to go through losing Julia for the job, but I don’t want to. Especially not with you.” A tear trailed down your cheek that August immediately swiped away. “Don’t cry.”

You moved to straddle him on the couch. Your arms linked behind his neck, and his hands fell to your waist, rubbing up and down your sides until he wrapped them around to settle on your ass. “I love you,” You sobbed. “I can’t believe you are willing to blackmail your boss for me.”

August beamed up at you and brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t blackmail her for anyone but you.” Then he reached a hand to the back of your neck and pulled down until your lips connected with his.

[itsmoonphobic]

📚𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜✏️

(ᴀ sʙɪ+ᴛᴏᴍᴍʏ & ᴄᴏ ʜɪɢʜsᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴀᴜ) ☟︎︎︎ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴇxᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ☟︎︎︎

ʷᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʷᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ᵇᵘⁿᶜʰ ᵒᶠ ᵏⁱᵈˢ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵘⁿ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ

❣︎ ᴛᴇᴄʜɴᴏ ɴ. ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ (Second year):

ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴛ | ʟᴏʏᴀʟ | ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴛ | ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇᴛᴇᴛɪᴠᴇ | ᴅᴇᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴇᴅ | ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ | sᴀʀᴄᴀsᴛɪᴄ | ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛᴇᴅ | ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ | ᴄᴏʟᴅ

-The fucking brain of the whole school.Gets all the top grades and is every teacher's favorite.

-English is his main thing,he knows so many complex words and phrases that he uses to sound smarter and confuse other poeple.

-Spends most of his free time and breaks in the library reading a book or studying.

-Doesn't like getting involved in conflicts or fights but he will step in and tell them back off if they are making fun of someone or bullying them :(

-His sleeping schedule is messed up.So after staying up all night playing videogames he buys atleast seven cups of coffee in the cafeteria to keep him awake.

-Finds sticky notes his three best friends left behind on his locker.It's either daily reminders or just some dumb shit like an insult or a crappy drawing.He pretends to throw them away but he secretly keeps them all in his room :)

-Gives his friends after school lessons and guides if they are stuck on homework or have a big exam coming up so they don't fail and get a good mark :D

-Doesn't like going to football games or any school games at all,but he will go when it's one of Tommy's basketball games (He even went with him to his tryouts for moral support-)

-Will give both Tommy and Wilbur cheet sheets and answers for bigger and more harder exams or tests :P (But they have to pay him lmfaooo-)

-Agrees to do risky (but fun-) shit with Tommy and Wilbur (They have broken into the school multiple times at night-)

-Sometimes Techno gets these horrible head aches so Phil,Wilbur and Tommy created a little sleeping spot on an old couch in the library where they can all lay down and relax together :D (This shit is so wholesome)

-Drags his friends and talks so much shit about them but in reality he cares for them.He will call them names like loser or idiot but he never truly means it :) (He loves them but he would never admit it out loud- cringee)

-Is in two clubs.He plays the violin in the school band and performs in the theater. (He played a king once and till this day it's by far his favorite performance) :D

-Completely oblivious to the fact that these random two dudes (Squid and Dream) are competing against him for the reputation of the smartest student.

❣︎ ᴘʜɪʟ ᴡᴀᴛsᴏɴ(Third year):

ᴄᴀʀɪɴɢ | ᴋɪɴᴅ | ʜᴇʟᴘғᴜʟ | ʜᴀʀᴅᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ | ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴏᴜs | ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ | ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ | sᴇʟғʟᴇss | ᴘᴏʟɪᴛᴇ | ᴇᴍᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ

-The parent of the school.He helps out wherever he can so his hands are always full and occupied.It gets hard to catch him sometimes since he's always running around.

-The teachers love him.He will help them with papers and he also volunteers to stay longer and clean up the classroom after everyone leaves.

-Keeps the chaos trio out of trouble and makes sure they don't end up in detention,though he doubts Techno ever will.He can't say the same for the other two though :)

-Helps out the nurses and lunch ladies if they have too much work- (He gets free chocolate milk in the cafeteria as a little thank you :D)

-He basically steals the teachers work.They don't get any more complaints from the students or any type of fight they need to solve since Phil's got it all under control.

-He stops by the bakery and brings breakfast for Tommy and Wilbur,and a coffee for Techno with him.Techno said he doesn't like to eat early so Phil kept that in mind :)

-They think he doesn't know but Phil indeed does recall all the shenanigans the three of his best friends have done. (Yes even the school break ins-)

-Attends ALL of Techno's and Wilbur's shows and performances.And he doesn't forget about Tommy's basketball games :3 (He's probably the loudest in the crowd and hypes them up like a proud father-)

-Gets way too worried over his friends.One time Tommy twisted his ankle during a game and Phil freaked out. Tommy reassured him that it's just a bruise but turns out he broke his ankle so- Yeah trust Phil and get it checked if he says to get it checked :)

-Student council president?- That's Phil for you.

-The students (and teachers) were both very happy that Phil got to be council president since he has proven himself worthy of that title.

-Constantly has to apologize for Tommy's and Wilbur's antics.He can't argue against Techno but these two brainless children get into way too much trouble :(

-Phil keeps the school under control- At first the teacher's were kinda pissed off but now they get to spend more free time and still get payed for doing less work.They always make sure to thank Phil though don't worry :)

-There have been way less fights and stressful situations in school since Phil takes care of them and makes sure everything runs smoothly,the way it's supposed to :D

❣︎ ᴡɪʟʙᴜʀ sᴏᴏᴛ(First year):

ᴄʜᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ | ғʟɪʀᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ | ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ | sᴜᴀᴠᴇ | ᴄʜᴀʀɪsᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ | ᴇɴᴛʜʀᴀʟʟɪɴɢ | ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ

-The heartthrob of the school.Cliche definition of Mr.popular.The whole school is either in love with him, jealous of him or they admire him.

-Has the most sick parties over the year.Halloween?Birthdays?Home alone parties? With Wilbur it's like prom every month :D

-Flirts with all the girls,he's never been in a relationship before but he can't help the fact that he's handsome :) He's a huge ass romantic.The reason behind that may be the fact that his favorite movie genre is romance lmao-

-Is in the school band and theater club with Techno.He plays the guitar and sings(Bonus points for the girls) His favorite type of performances have to be musicals :D (Hamilton reference let's go-)

-Fights with Tommy all the time.You could catch the two of them throwing insults at eachother and from time to time even a middle finger (or in Tommy's case both)

-People continously ask him if he's dating Niki but they are just good friends who bond over music :( He would sing and play guitar for her,Niki has so many polaroids of their cute moments together in her room- (Wilbur may or may not have stolen one while he was hanging out with her-)

-Knows everyones dirty secrets and will blackmail others if they fuck with him or his friends.

-Also hates Dream,doesn't know if it's becouse he competes with Techno all the time or that he's a huge wheezing jerk >:(

-He loves sitting next to Techno in the library while he comes up with new song ideas.He would ask Techno for his opinion to <3

-The whole school is behind his back.You start shit with Wilbur and not only are his friends there to back him but every student (Even the janitor lmao)

❣︎ ᴛᴏᴍᴍʏ sɪᴍᴏɴs(First year):

ᴇɴᴇʀɢᴇᴛɪᴄ | ʟᴏᴜᴅ & ғᴜɴɴʏ | ᴄᴜʀɪᴏᴜs | ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴠᴇ | ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ | ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴɪɴɢ | ʀᴇᴄᴋʟᴇss | ʀᴇʙᴇʟʟɪᴏᴜs | ʜʏᴘᴇʀ | ᴏᴘᴇɴᴍɪᴍᴅᴇᴅ

-Seen as a heathen by the whole school.Got himself the nickname troublemaker from pretty much everyone.

-Shit you not he goes around the school and starts fights with people who are way stronger than him but still manages to beat them up like?

-Road his skateboard through the school hallways once and made Tubbo record it while he pulled off some stupid stunt down the stairs- He ended up breaking his leg lmao.

-Legit always goes after the popular kids-(That's how he met Phil,Wilbur and Techno)now he has people who can beat ass with him (except for Phil)

-Calls teachers out on their bullshit.He will literally say they are wrong and what they're saying his complete bullshit

-May or may not have got suspended a few times

-Gets into so many detentions.The teachers are pretty much used to him coming and even have a special seat reserved for him in the back.

-Plays basketball and gets super excited when the Blade comes and picks him up from practice.Feels extremely cool that he's walking away with him while his teammates stare in shock.

-Once spread a rumor about Wilbur to pay him back for pranking him and let's just say Tommy and he had a pretty deep conversation lmao-

-That kid who always couldn't contain his luaghter in class and threw paper balls across the room.Yeah that's Tommy

-Has a gang he hangs out with (Tubbo is his favorite but he loves to annoy Deo lmao)They also have a groupchat,tbh it's mostly just Tommy asking if he can copy homework from one of them

-Tried to hack into the school system with Techno's help atleast five times but after Phil cought them the two of them stopped

-Brings nerf guns into school and jumpscares people with them.He shot the principal once and that was the most terrifying moment of his life (Apart that conversation with Wilbur lmaoooo)

-Loves breaking rules with Wilbur and Techno lol.It was his idea to break into the school the first time so they kinda stuck to doing that (especially during summer break)

AHHHHH- It's finished! This time I tried something different and made it a bunch of short headcanons!This is probably my favorite type of au so I'm really happy with how it turned out! Love y'all <3

[professorbcampbell]

A Bid for Power || Bea & Ben

Location: Illusions of Grandeur

Timing: July 13th, 2021

Tagging: @beatrice-blaze​ & @professorbcampbell​

Description: Ben takes a trip to check out Bea’s venue. A very normal conversation occurs.

Warnings: None!

Shutting off the engine of his car, Ben straightened his neatly pressed shirt as he took in the venue. Illusions of Grandeur. Ever since his rather intriguing run in with the woman-- Bea Vural, as he’d found out later-- at Coffee Plus, he’d found himself thinking more and more about her. There was something about her that had struck a chord. It wasn’t just the interest in Ovid nor was it her perspective on antiquity, though neither of those hurt. No, it was the analytical eye. The guarded nature. The way they seemed to be going through the same, practiced movements of waiting, watching, and responding. His dive into her personal page on the White Crest message boards hadn’t yielded much, other than the fact she was owner and performer at Illusions of Grandeur and that she curated a very… eye-catching Instagram. She clearly took care of herself, and her appearances. But, there had to be more to this woman than just carnival magic tricks.

Walking around the building, he glanced at the hours. Closed. Which made sense. It was a venue, it wouldn’t be open until later. But, there were other cars around which meant-- “Hey there. Can I help you?” Ben looked up and saw a rather unassuming man peeking out from the front doors, a curious expression on his face.

“Ah! Sorry to intrude, I was hoping to speak to Beatrice Vural, the proprietor?” He said with a nod. The man blinked for a moment before nodding. 

“Yeah, Bea’s in the back. Is she expecting you?” The man asked.

Ben let out a laugh, tinged with faux-awkwardness and self-conscious airs. “No, I don’t think she is. I met her the other day and was hoping to speak with her again.”

“Uh huh.” The man said, unimpressed before glancing at his watch. “We have a few hours before show time, so hey. No worries. Come on in.” And with that, Ben followed the man inside, his intrigue growing with every step he took.

A week of not paying attention to the paperwork was coming to bite Bea in the ass. It was worth not stressing over it, but now the math in front of her was swimming across the page and her brain was twenty seconds away from exploding. She closed the books and leant back in her chair, she’d have to ask John to look over all the numbers for her. He had basically run the place for a year and to hand the reins back to him after only a month felt like failing. John didn’t care, she knew that, he didn’t want to be the owner and was happy with where he was, it still felt like she hadn’t planned the right way. 

Bea stood from her desk, determined to make herself a coffee and debating if it was too early to add whiskey. She swung open her office door and made her way to the kitchen. A glorious god (most likely John) had cleaned the espresso maker and she made quick work of making herself a drink. Leaving the kitchen, she nearly knocked into someone with her drink. A small, half laugh left her, “That’s the second time I’ve almost poured coffee on you.” Why was Ben here? “What brought you to my theater?”

Following after John, Ben took in the back of house trappings that filled the space before he was led into the business section of the venue. It was a very run of the mill office set up, with the smell of hot coffee floating in the air and-- Ben hopped back out of the way when he noticed the woman in his periphery. He glanced down at his shirt, relieved to see nothing had spilled on it, before letting out a laugh of his own, “Second time lucky, I’d say. In that I haven’t gotten splashed either time.” He said with a nod and a smile. At her question, Ben reached for the answer that he had been prepared ahead of time. “I was curious about the theater after you mentioned it the first time we met, so I thought I’d look into it. Magic acts have always intrigued me and I must say, I was surprised to hear that you were the one running the show.”

“We have perfect reflexes between the two of us,” Bea teased. “Otherwise, we’d both be covered in coffee every time we saw each other.” Honestly, though it was surprising to see him, she wasn’t upset at all. He was interesting, like a puzzle, and she wanted to figure him out. “You were surprised?” She asked amused, “I must have not been dramatic enough the first time we met.” She took a sip of her coffee, “Would you like to join me in a coffee and a tour? The coffee can be Irish, if you’re up for it,” She said lightly, a mischievous look in her eye. 

“So it would seem,” Ben agreed with an obligating chuckle. At her question, he offered a shrug. “You didn’t strike me as an entertainer-- though, perhaps I’m just out of touch with the rest of society. I don’t often interact with people who aren’t either colleagues or students.” He replied. The real reason he was surprised was because he had heard things about Illusions of Grandeur too. About how the acts here had been so intricate, so incredible, so show stopping. And then, the shows had stopped. He’d read as much in the archives of the White Crest Press website. Smiling at her joke, he shook his head, “I must have been projecting. You deal with enough academics and suddenly you forget that not everyone is involved in education.” At her offer, Ben nodded. “I’d be delighted for both, but I think I’ll pass on the extra shot. I’m not much of a drinker.” He said with a sheepish expression on his face. 

“I really must have been off my game when we first met,” Bea replied with fake modesty. She hadn’t been. There just happened to be places and times for being as extroverted as a performer and Coffee Plus was not one of them. She smiled at him  warmly as she went back into the kitchen to make him a coffee, “I suppose the book I was reading didn’t help you with your assumption. We do educational events here, but I fear that doesn’t make me an educator.” Nor did she want to be an educator, she didn’t have enough patience for that. She didn’t like the sheepish expression on him, as convincing as it was, she had an eye for acting and something about it didn’t sit right with her. “I usually only have wine with dinner, but after the week I had,” She shrugged with a practiced smile. “Did John show you anything as he brought you up?”

Following the woman into the small break room, Ben glanced around at the space. Nothing out of the ordinary, just what he would expect from a small business’ break room. “That it did not. And the conversation we had, though quite refreshing, didn’t do much to change the assumption either. But, I ought to leave my preconceived notions at the door. Something to work on.” He said as he leaned against the wall, watching her fix him a mug. Raising an eyebrow at her words, he gave an apologetic wince. “That bad, huh? Well, I can’t begrudge you a little something extra to take the edge off in that case.” Ben said with an understanding nod. “No, he didn’t actually. I think I may have caught him in the middle of something?” He shrugged. He didn’t care about the random man, he wasn’t the reason why Ben was here. 

“I’m quite flattered that you thought highly of our conversation then. It’s always good to have a self reflective goal to work towards.” It certainly was something to work on, Bea thought. There were too many people in this world who thought that value and intelligence came from a stupid piece of paper. Her and her sisters were just as smart as anyone else and they certainly had not gone to school to find that out. She handed him his coffee and took a sip of her own, busying herself instead of replying to his empathy. She waved a dismissive hand, “If you had caught John in the middle of something important he would have ignored you. Which points to your luck again, that you didn’t.” John was the one Bea tended to send out when too many questions were asked, he was not afraid of confrontation, if it had a good cause. “I see two path ahead of us, Ben, we can enjoy our coffee and conversation or we can get the show on the road and I can start the tour.”

With a nod, Ben accepted the cup with a nod and took a sip, watching her over the rim of the mug. It seemed as though there was something she wasn’t saying, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. “What is life if not the opportunity to grow and change?” He asked with a smile before holding his cup in front of him. His lips curled slightly at the wave she cast in his direction, amused by her confidence. She was certainly a woman who knew herself and the people around her, it seemed. “Well, seems like I’m quite fortunate indeed.” He said before nodding. And she liked to take charge. A trait that made sense for a woman in her position, a business owner, a performer. And one that Ben would entertain, for now. “Yes, the tour-- please, lead the way.” He smiled.

Bea kept her face straight, though she struggled with the question. Life was complex, harsh, and beautiful. It was too many things all at once. Pain had forced growth in her, but she knew others who dug in their heels and never changed. “Life is what we make of it,” She finally decided. “There are plenty of people who don’t want to life to be that.” She thought of her mother, a woman she had seen as someone with infinite wisdom as a child, and how as an adult that illusion had shattered. She thought of herself, just a year ago, and how steadfast she had been in the way she handled things. “Welcome to Illusions of Grandeur. Here we have our state of the art kitchen,” She said with a soft tease. “On this floor, it’s mainly offices, mine and John’s, and a place for our performers to relax. Downstairs you’ll find the dressing rooms and props area.”

Ben kept a watchful eye on the woman’s expression, privately amused. She was mulling over the question far longer than most would, but didn’t appear to be troubled by it. Was she? Had he struck a nerve? He had no way of knowing, which delighted him. What a fascinating woman, this Beatrice Vural. “True. Life is a series of choices and we, blessed with free will, can do with it what we will. I’m of the opinion that we owe it to ourselves to grow and better ourselves. But,” He said with a laugh and wave of his hand, “I’m philosophizing. You can put the professor on summer break, but his heart remains in the classroom.” He said. Nodding, he smiled at her joke. “Oh, top of the line.” He said. “I must admit-- I’ve always been intrigued by stage magic. Would I be able to see the prop room? Or are those trade secrets?”

“I suppose you can look at it that way,” Bea replied, “But I’m not sure we owe anyone, even ourselves, anything at the start. We can certainly live to owe people, and ourselves. You don’t owe anything until you ask for something.” She let out a soft laugh, “Though that could just stem from my distaste for organized religion. Maybe I’m getting lost in the details.” She had never really understood original sin, it seemed wildly unfair to give babies sins. She knew that wasn’t at all what Ben had meant, but that certainly didn’t stop her from voicing her thoughts. “Not a bad thing to be focused on learning, I’m not the type to do well in the classroom, but I enjoy our discussions.” She eyed him for a moment, a practiced smirk taking over her face. She had had plenty of people curious about the elements that they had seen on stage. “I’ll show you some of my performer’s secrets, but none of my own. That you have to earn.”

Her answer posed more questions than it answered, Ben thought to himself. What a curious woman. “The idea of owing something to another and indebtedness is certainly prevalent in most religions.” He agreed, “But-- you said we don’t owe something until we ask for it. What’s life without the asking, the wanting? We all have our own desires, those things we want more than anything else. Isn’t that part of the human experience?” Ben asked. Oh, how he knew about the wanting. The hunger. The desire for more. And he knew all about the owing too. “Well, I’m glad to hear I’m not a total bore.” He said before meeting her confident gaze. The smirk at the corner of her lips amused him. A strong willed woman. “And how might I earn those?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“Everyone ends up owing someone something,” Bea shrugged. She supposed she had many people she owed, but it hadn’t come inherently, she had put herself in that position. Many people had put themselves in that position with her. “I suppose what really matters is how we react to owing or being owed. Even more so, how much we have to go through with a person until the scales are tipped the other direction.” She had owed her mother so much, but finally, the scales were tipping. Beatrice and Nisa were getting closer to balance, slowly. Soon, Bea wouldn’t owe her. Maybe, one day, Nisa would look to her eldest for something. She started to lead him to the props area, “Well, what has the same value as a secret, Ben? If you can give me that, then you’ve earned something in return.”

Everyone ends up owing someone something. Now, if Bea only knew how true that statement was. Ben had seen his father carry the burdens of his grandfather, carry his debt and forge a path of blood and sacrifice to a brighter future. The future he had dreamed of. And Ben, he didn’t owe, not yet. But he needed to prove himself worthy of His Lord before that which he craved could be his. And then, then he would owe much. And he’d have the power to pay it back in full. “I’ve always been far more comfortable owing than being owed.” Ben said, though it couldn’t be farther from the truth. The leverage, the power, the ability to apply just the slightest amount of pressure on someone because they were indebted to him… he relished the feeling. But no one would admit to such a thing. “That said, I don’t make a habit of owing people things. Level playing fields are my preferred territory.” He sad. Another lie, but she had no reason to know that. Looking around at the props, the gaudy costumes, the sparkling, glittering decor that served to distract the audience, Ben smiled, “Depends on the secret, I’d suppose.” He sipped the last of his coffee contemplatively before replying, “For the price of a secret that your livelihood rests on… I’d say that might be a bit steep for me.”

Bea didn’t believe that for a moment, no one liked that. How could anyone be comfortable in that sort of situation? Perhaps if the person owed was a trusted someone, it wouldn’t be as terrible. She wouldn’t pick it for herself though. “I’m not,” She said nonchalantly. It was an honest answer. This truth might not be comfortable, but she didn’t think it was horrible. “I have owed people in the past and the scramble to bring it back to center is not an experience I’d like to have all that often after. I’d rather hold the power, though that sounds terribly selfish,” She let out a soft laugh. She wore her selfishness as a shield, knowing that her fatal flaw was the loyalty she held for those she loved. Better people think she would pick herself over others than knowing what it would truly move her. “Well, not all of my secrets here will ruin my show in the wrong hands,” She said amused. “Maybe start with one of those.”

Ben raised his eyebrows in an expression of casual surprise, but he couldn’t help but be startled by how open she was about that. People tended to play the humble card, to downplay how uncomfortable they were in situations that tested them. Or, at the very least, they would take the easy route and present themselves as some kind of magnanimous person who didn’t mind owing others because debts could be so easily repaid. How intriguing. What had this woman owed? And to who? “I don’t think that’s selfish. I think it’s quite honest.” He said earnestly. “And even if it was, there’s something to be said about being selfish. So few people are these days. It’s refreshing.” He said, folding his arms across his chest to think for a moment. “Let’s see… I’ve always wanted to know how to pull a rabbit from a hat. What might that run me?”

The cool mask Bea kept on hid the pleasure she had at his approval. It would be a lie to say that some of her self worth didn’t come from the opinions other’s held about her. Nisa had taught her the power of other people’s thoughts and Bea was in no rush to challenge that. That piece of growth could wait until she was better fitted to deal with the pain it would bring. She tilted her head at his words, a shy smile sent his way. “I’m glad you think so. Not many people are open to ugly honesty, it scares them.” Ugliness ran deeply through each of them, it was just a game of seeing who could hide it the best. Or mold it into the sharpest weapon. She made a show of pondering, biting her lip and furrowing her brow quite threatically. “For something like that, I suppose I could take a piece of information you would share in an icebreaker exercise. Nothing terribly personal, but interesting enough to make me remember you,” She teased. 

This woman was full of all kinds of unexpected truths. Ugly honesty indeed. He was no stranger to that, not at all. But, Ben hid the truth well, covered it in velvety words and smoothed it away until it seemed harmless. Until he seemed harmless. “I think it’s less the honesty that scares people and more the act of being honest. Because if someone else has the courage to voice their unpleasant truths then, well… what are they hiding for, hm?” He mused. “The crowd has never liked those who are braver or stronger than them. Admired, feared, but never liked.” As Bea mulled over his question, Ben leaned against the wall, his stance relaxed and casual. Something from an icebreaker. If that was the price of a simple illusion, what might admitting he served a demonic lord might gain him? Nothing of value-- or at least, nothing more valuable than His Lord. “That seems a small enough price. Hi. I’m Ben Campbell. When I was fourteen, I broke my arm jumping off the roof onto the trampoline at a friend’s house.” He said, providing the work friendly lie of how he had broken his arm. In reality, he’d broken it in a scuffle with his brother’s sacrifice at the time, an overgrown sophomore at the White Crest High. 

Bea smiled, knowing all too well why people hid their own truths. For as honest as she came off, she had enough secrets that she kept close to her chest. Her honesty was an old trick, showing a false depth in the hopes no one dug deeper. Those who did were often surprised with what they found, that, at least, was satisfying. A bit like the rabbit trick itself. “Which brings up the age-old question, do we strive to be liked or admired?” Or feared? She believed herself closer to admired, feared when people saw the abilities she possessed. It hadn’t done her too bad at this point, though being liked had its own set of pluses. She smiled at his icebreaker answer, “The perfect thing to say. Now everyone who goes after you will think of their own injuries and have something to relate to you with.” There was a part of her that almost told him about her ankle, the allure of being relatable ringing loudly in her ears. That wasn’t the deal however, it was a secret for a secret, but it wasn’t her own she would be sharing. She pulled over a hat and a scarf, “For the purposes of the demonstration, the scarf will be the rabbit.” She showed him the false bottom and then delivered the trick with flair. 

“Now that is indeed an age-old question. I should watch out, otherwise there might be a new ancient philosophy and ethics professor at UMWC.” Ben teased. The answer was clear to him, as it always had been. Liked, admired… even feared-- the combination of the three was how one conquered the world. False compassion to ensure the tide of public opinion was on your side, benevolent actions with ulterior motives for admiration, and the violent, deadly truth for fear. They were the three cards that he played, one after the other, to unsurprising success. But no one liked to think about that. No one liked to think how easily they could be manipulated. “I suppose it varies from person to person, and from time to time-- goodness knows I don’t want to be admired the same way I did when I was in high school. I find myself wanting to be admired in an inspirational fashion. If I can help guide my students towards their callings and I’m admired for that, I consider that worthwhile.” He nodded. A safe answer. An expected answer.

“I suppose you’re right about that.” Ben laughed, a sheepish sound. “I never thought of it that way.” Lies. Of course he had. He crafted every aspect of his life at the university to be approachable, to be relatable. Ben focused on the trick watching intently as she demonstrated how it worked. Simple deception and trickery, a trick of the light. An illusion. “Ah… That’s far more simple than I thought it would be. But, if it works, it works.”

Bea let out a soft, surprised laugh. She hadn’t expected that sort of praise, no matter how interested he seemed in her conversation. She had always thought of herself as intelligent, though she didn’t think many people shared that opinion. Her vanity often changed the way she was perceived by others, intelligence overlooked for appearance. She didn’t necessarily mind it, it gave her something to use as a tool, but to be seen in this manner by a near stranger felt good. “I think I’d need to go to college before I truly became a threat to your livelihood.” She had never truly seen the appeal to that institution, her worth was nothing something that could be evaluated through a numeric system created by old white men. Her sisters and her were doing quite fine without that in their lives. “And where does the fear fit into that equation?” She asked. She under understood it in some manner though. Her performers were meant to look to her as a source of inspiration, a mentor when they needed one. The fear she held was not to intimidate her performers, but rather those who look too closely at them. It was a method of protection, for her and them. 

“When I first did workshops, I always tried to find an answer that made people relate to me. It made it easier to pull those with more connections than me. Maybe you’re doing that subconsciously.” Or maybe he was like her and planned his answers to these things, even if he claimed not to. She nodded, “It’s so simple that it’s almost disappointing. I try to avoid tricks like that now, if it takes someone longer to figure it out, the longer they think of my show.” The challenge of finding a trick like that was great fun for her too.

At the news that Bea had never been to college, Ben resisted the impulse to stare at her in shock. She’d never been to college? Never even taken a college course? How could that possibly be? She was an entertainer, yes, but her interests and the insights she held-- they were beyond that of what he’d expect from someone with just a high school diploma. Or, Lord forbid, a GED. Incredible. Unbelievable. But, he kept his expression calm and smiled instead. “Well, I suppose that means my job is safe for the time being.” He joked before shrugging at her question. “Fear seems a bit too Machiavellian for me, personally.”

“That could be it.” Ben agreed though her answer, once again, only made him wonder more. She actively tried to make connections, actively tried to be relatable. He could understand why she would do such things, but it still intrigued him. What else lay below the surface of this woman, who seemed just as observant and calculating as himself? “Really? Well. Could you show me one that interests you a bit more?” He asked, eyes bright as a small grin slid across his face. To her it would seem he was eager at the prospect of seeing another trick-- in reality, it was nothing more than a ploy to stoke her ego.

“Maybe I’ll have to look into it now, just for the pleasure of that,” Bea teased. Classrooms were not where she learnt best. She had always been a tactical learner, someone who had to do to get the best experience. Her interest in reading had developed later in life, after high school, when she felt free to explore her interests. The push to learn chemistry, math, and history had been bland while she was a student. Her grades had reflected her feelings on school very well. It was the one place she was allowed to do poorly. “A bit of Machiavellianism isn’t always a bad thing. Being able to use the tools one has to their advantage shouldn’t be considered deceitful or wrong. If fear is a method of keeping the playing field even, why not use it.” The Vurals, Bea found, could be considered ruthless at times, but maybe that’s what had kept them where they were.

The showman in Bea egged her on and with a small smirk, she nodded. “I won’t show you anything I’m using in my current show, but I can show you one of my old favorites.” There was temptation to pull out all the stops, awe him in a manner he had yet to be awe. She held back. This was a trick that required none of her own magic, but wonderful sleight of hand and a bit of trick fire. “Why don’t I show you first and then you can try to figure it out?” That was always a fun game and it would show her how his mind worked. What details he picked up on and what were lost in the end. She was quite excited to see how his observant eye would do. 

“Well, I’ll be able to provide recommendations of classes if you ever decide to pursue a degree.” Ben said with an easy nod. If she ever did do such a thing, and Ben got the distinct impression that she had no such interest. No matter. “Spoken like the diplomat himself. I must say, I don’t entirely disagree that one must use all tools at their disposal. But, I try my best to leave fear as a last resort. And never with students. It’s just not good practice to strike fear in the people you’re teaching.” He replied.

“By all means.” Ben said with a smile and a wave of his hand. He had an eye for detail, but prestidigitation was hardly his strong suit. No matter, he was curious to see what she had in store.

“I’m far too busy right now to consider it, I fear,” Bea said easily. She had never considered, not even as her friends were searching for colleges. Perhaps there would be skills that she could obtain from some instruction, but she was fine with her books for most subjects. “Maybe I’ll sit in on one of your classes one day,” She teased. That was an interesting idea at least, then she could see how he taught his students. How different would he be in the classroom? When she felt a lesson needed to be taught, to anyone, she had a firm hand, though she did attempt to be kind. “Students are different, aren’t they? There’s a power imbalance there already, fear doesn’t need to be added. With adults, though, we have to remind them of the power.” Remind them of who they were dealing with. 

It took a few moments to set up, but once she was ready, she held a deck of cards in her hand. She pulled out a sharpie, “Sign a few random cards for me.” A few fancy shuffling passes and the trick began in earnest. With a flash of fire, her deck vanished, her sleeveless dress giving no indication that it could have slipped somewhere that other people used. It was a simple trick by design, but no less fun to watch. “I wonder where the deck went,” She smiled. 

“I suppose I have that to look forward to.” Ben said, matching her lightly teasing tone. At Bea’s words, Ben resisted the urge to smile-- not the saccharine smile of the doting professor or the wry grin bashful intellectual. He held back the smile of one who understood the power of fear and the joy of that came with using that particular tactic. It was a smile he rarely used outside of those nights in the wood, when he was offering sacrifice to his Lord. “Perhaps, perhaps.” He said, shrugging with a nonchalant air. “The iron hand in a velvet glove technique has its place. But, I prefer to avoid such things, when at all possible.”

He signed the cards as asked and watched as Bea flashed the cards in front of him, intrigued. Ben blinked as a sudden burst of flame illuminated both their faces. Flash paper, to draw attention away from the real trick. He’d seen her hands move, watched her closely, and yet… “Don’t tell me the cards are in my pocket.”  Ben joked, patting his hands against his jeans.

There was something about Ben that tickled Bea, he pulled at her curiosity. He was magnetic to her, but, she imagined, not in the way he was to others. She wanted to take him apart until she found out what his goal was, why he was like her. She wanted to see if he truly believed some of the things he said. “I suppose that would make you the good cop and me the bad cop then,” She smiled. Did he have the potential to be as ruthless as she was? Maybe he could be worse. He was interesting enough for her to want him as a friend, but she couldn’t allow that title to go to anyone she didn’t understand. 

“No, it’s not.” She smirked at him, “If I was going to put my hand in your pocket, I’d want you to know about it.” Her smirk widened as she snapped her fingers and cards began to rain around them. His signature seen as the cards fluttered down around them. 

Ben couldn’t help but grin at her words. He wasn’t surprised by them-- he honestly couldn’t keep track of all the people who made a pass at him. But, this presented an interesting opportunity, one where he could pick Bea’s mind without needing ulterior motives. Watching as the cards fell from the sky, he spotted the cards he’d signed. Ben grabbed it from the air and glanced at it. The Queen of Spades. “That’s quite the trick, I can see why you used it in shows. I wonder how your new ones compare. ” He said, flipping the card between his fingers before handing it back to Bea. “Would dinner and drinks this weekend be payment enough to find out how you managed that?” Ben asked, his eyes bright. The mystery of the woman that was Beatrice Vural was one that intended to crack. One way or another. 

At his grin, Bea smiled back, that wasn’t a smile she had gotten out of him yet. To be able to pull something like that from him pleased her. “You’ll have to see the show to know.” She never passed up the opportunity to get someone into her doors, even after hitting on them. She was a business woman at the end of the day. “Yes, I say it would, but I’ll need to check in with my partner to make sure he’s comfortable with it first.” Her relationship with Felix was based on trust and honesty, and while she was sure he would tell her to go off and have fun, confirming with him was important. “We’ll see how many secrets we can collect over drinks, hm?”

[hyperfixrat]

“COLD SEASON” inspired by @too-many-umbrellas

PROMPT: “Do you think the Hargreeves’ powers go off when they sneeze?”

*sorry it’s so late <3

———

It's the evening of November 30th, and the academy has just settled down after a long day out in the cold. Vanya insisted that they go together to see the lights—something about 'finally spending time as a family'.

It took a little extra convincing to get Diego onboard, as the holidays just weren't his thing, however, he reluctantly agreed after Klaus practically begged him to join— after he’d been informed that there'd be eggnog and stuffed animals.

And of course Allison was onboard, as she had hoped to find a gift for Claire for when she sees her again. Luther barely gave it a thought before agreeing to go, not having experienced anything majorly relating to Christmas since.....ever.

Five joined the bunch without a word, not really feeling the Christmas spirit but wanting to see his siblings happy together.

They spent the evening at the park, drinking hot chocolate, sampling pastries and enjoying the festive atmosphere.

It got late and the temperature dropped, so they all made their way back to the academy. As they drop their coats at the door, Five jumps to the fireplace, placing an armful of firewood onto the rack.

He grabs a matchbox off the mantle, stealing a quick glance at the painting on the wall above before swiping the match along the side of the box and tossing it onto the wood.

Five turns to his family with a smile, watching Allison pass out blankets while Klaus delivers warm cups of cocoa to his siblings before snuggling into the corner of the couch.

Klaus subconsciously leaves space for Ben, before remembering that he'd moved on. Nonetheless, he pulls the edge of the blanket closer in order to pat the couch to invite Five to sit next to him.

Accepting Klaus's offer, Five makes his way to the couch. He stops in his tracks as his nose begins to burn—achoo!

Five disappears, the mug of cocoa shattering as it hits the floor. The sound startles the siblings, immediately waking them from their exhaustion.

Klaus jumps up from the couch, searching the room to make sure Five hadn't just teleported behind him by accident.

"Fuck!" Five's distant voice echoes from the third floor. Diego's attention turns to the source of the sound, along with the others.

It falls quiet for a moment before a low rumble shakes the room, the mugs on the table practically vibrate with the sound.

Diego looks to Vanya, who looks just as perplexed as him. The lights flicker violently as a gust of wind rips through the room scattering papers and whipping through the drapes.

In a split second Five re-appears, landing back-first on the coffee table. Cocoa is spilled on the floor and blankets are soaked, but not one of them bat an eye at it.

Vanya is the first to check on Five, helping him off the table and making sure he's unscathed. Five pinches the bridge of his nose as he feels another sneeze emerging, praying that he could hold it off so that his powers don't spaz again.

Allison makes her way over, placing the back of her hand on his forehead. He's definitely got a fever. She sighs and walks away to grab the thermometer from the bathroom.

Vanya guides Five to the couch, having him sit in her previous spot before covering him with a dry blanket. "I told you to wear a damn jacket, Five." Diego speaks from where he's knelt on the floor, picking up the scattered papers from Five's portal.

"It was 28 degrees outside and you still went out in those shorts." Luther shakes his head at the irony, Five may be the smartest among the bunch at most times—but he can also be stubborn as hell.

"So what? It's better than those stiff ass slacks that dad made us wear every winter." They nod in agreement, Reginald often thought 'punctuality over comfort' was a suitable reason to not let them wear sweatpants in winter.

Allison returns with the thermometer, handing it to Vanya so that she could check Five’s temperature. A moment of silence passes before the thermometer beeps with the confirmation that Five indeed had a fever.

Shit. Diego cursed internally as he came to a concerning realization. When they were younger Reginald would quarantine the siblings to their rooms; as every time one of them spiked a fever or had shown any signs of sickness—a chain reaction occurred to where they all immediately became ill.

Of course, that hadn't happened in years—achoo! Klaus sneezes, sending a couple bottles from Reggie's liquor cabinet crashing into the far wall. He sniffles, scratching the side of his nose with his pinky. 

"Damn," He sighs. "What a waste of perfectly good alcohol."

———

Over the course of the next 48 hours, all six of the Hargreeves children had fallen ill.

Klaus had been the first to succumb due to his compromised immune system—from years worth of drugs and alcohol—at first he would be mildly startled when he'd sneeze or cough and a random ghost would appear in the corner of his room, but now he barely flinches.

Vanya caught the worst of it from Five, having to board up all of the windows in the house after she blew her nose once and all the glassware in the living room shattered. Allison suggested that she keep her breakable items in her room down the hall, as it was far enough to be out of the 'danger zone' as Diego liked to call it.

Next was Diego. Who was in the middle of training when he coughed and accidentally sent his knives hurdling towards Pogo as he watched from a distance. Thankfully, Pogo stepped out of the way before he was injured.

Five encountered the most issues as he continued to jump from one end of the house to the other with each cough and sneeze. At one point he found himself in Vanya's isolation chamber and decided to just lay down for a while, as he lacked the energy to jump back to his room.

Allison and Luther waited in the kitchen silently. Their powers accumulated less damaging issues, leaving them able to assist Grace and Pogo in caring for their siblings. Ultimately, Allison found Five asleep in Vanya's chamber after searching the entire academy for him when Grace stated that he wasn't in his room and didn't show up for supper.

Presently, Luther and Allison sit at the kitchen table--a cup of coffee in Luther's hands as he watched Allison's expressions as she sat in deep thought. The two had significantly less problems when they got sick, since their powers were easier to maintain. So, they volunteered to help Pogo and Grace with the others until they were all better.

Allison usually helps Pogo with checking vitals and temperatures while Luther helped Grace with meals in the kitchen. Luther decided the previous evening to help Pogo and let Allison take some time with Grace, knowing that Allison had a greater chance of getting sick from being around their siblings for more than a few minutes.

"Quit staring at me, Lu. I'm fine." Allison's voice catches Luther off guard and he's brought into focus. "I've been helping Pogo for three days now. If I were going to get sick, I already would have." 

Luther sighs, raking a hand through his hair. He hadn't taken time to stop and think since the night everyone got sick. He'd been on his feet and endlessly worrying about his siblings and their powers--not that he'd ever admit it.

"Sorry. It's just a lot right now." Luther sips his coffee. "This hasn't happened since we were eight, and even then it was a lot to handle." Allison nods, understanding where her brother was coming from. Reginald would make them all train until they were too sick to continue.

And once the others were bed-ridden, Allison and Luther were forced to take up their training time by themselves—stopping only if they too became sick, or were injured to the point where training was no longer an option.

Both heads turn to the doorway, where a tired-eyed and groggy Klaus stands. He yawns, pulling his stuffed llama close to his chest and making his way over to the coffee pot.

Now, they may all be similar in age, but Klaus always had a child-like nature growing up. He always had a thing for stuffed animals or anything remotely soft when he wasn't feeling good.

There was one instance when he was grounded on their tenth birthday after calling Reginald an 'asshole' for yelling at Vanya for practicing her violin. He was forced to stay in his room while Grace took the other siblings to the fair.

Diego felt bad and brought Klaus the stuffed llama from the fair, saying the rainbow swirls and sparkles reminded him of him. Ever since then, 'Fruit' has been Klaus' comfort whenever he was down.

Klaus pours himself a cup of coffee and sits at the table next to Allison, proceeding to lean his head on her shoulder. "Al?" He whispers, earning a hummed response from his sister. "When do you think we're gonna be better?" Allison sighs, gently placing her hand on the top of Klaus' head to pet him lightly. 

"Soon, I'm sure." Klaus hums, taking a long sip of his coffee. A few moments later, Five and Vanya stroll into the kitchen, shoulders covered in thick blankets to keep them warm in their pajamas. Vanya sits next to Luther, tugging the blanket closer with a sniffle. 

Five attempts to jump to the coffee pot, only to fade from solid to translucent. He sighs and walks over to pour the remainder of coffee into his 'number five brother' mug. Vanya had scratched out the one and scribbled the five over as a joke when they were younger, but it easily became five's favorite mug.

"I guess we're all here, then" Klaus states as he sits up, holding Fruit in his lap. Five joins the siblings at the table, clutching his coffee like a lifeline. They sit in silence for a few moments before Grace and Pogo walk in, mildly shocked. It had been almost two weeks since the siblings were all in the same room together.

Grace takes it upon herself to prepare a brunch for the family, hoping none of their powers spaz while she has the knives out. Pogo sits at the head seat, looking over the siblings to make sure they were well enough to sit together. "I presume you are all feeling better?" He questions. All six siblings nod in response.

"Scrambled or Over Easy?" Grace asks from the stove, having just placed a carton of eggs on the counter before buttering the pan. She already knows the sibling's preferences, but she always asks to make sure. After receiving answers, she proceeds with cooking.

The siblings begin to converse, talking about their week in isolation or dreams they had. Pogo listens in silently, occasionally adding to the conversation but mainly enjoying seeing the siblings together and happy.

They spend a couple hours just talking and laughing and being a family. After brunch, the siblings go up to the living room to watch a movie. And by three in the afternoon, they're all feeling better. Pogo still suggests that they stay inside one more day so that he can be sure that the sickness has passed.

That evening, they gather in the living room once again to decorate for the holiday season. After a couple of bottles of wine and so many cookies the siblings crash on the couch and floor in front of the fireplace and twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. Pogo and Grace stand in the foyer, overlooking the siblings sleeping in the living room.

"I suppose we'll leave them be." He suggests. Grace nods her head and accompanies Pogo upstairs so that they, too can go to sleep. After all, they'll have a long day tomorrow.

“Achoo!”

[loser-writings]

Oh my god! Its a omegafest! Can you add one of Omega Hizashi too?

Here you go! It really is an Omegafest, but I ain’t complaining!

Hizashi Yamada is one of the most well known and successful Omegas of all time. With him being one of the first openly Omega Pro heros, His radio show, and almost contagious personality, he quickly gained fans and became a favorite among many. He takes lots of pride for Inspiring lots of Omegas to follow their dreams.

That being said, he was also very aware of every Alpha that looked at him hungrily when he passed by them. Always hearing their words about “Getting the wild one to submit” and “Reminding him of where he should be” It never failed to make him anxious to the point where he would plan his paths to try to avoid as many people as possible.

Today was all miscalculations though. He took multiple wrong turns on his way to the address written on the palm of his hand, and he could feel every Alpha staring at him. He swore softly under his breath since he realized what he had forgotten. His suppressants were just left on the counter, and he knew that his scent was thriving.

Hell even he could smell the intensity of his scent. Tangy, yet sweet like his personality. It overpowered any negative scent caused by his anxiety. He bit the inside of his cheek as he heard it. Footsteps behind him. As he passed by some reflective glass, he looked over to see a larger Alpha staring straight at his ass. Before he could even do anything, His omega let out a panicked chirp. 

He felt his throat tighten as a deep chuckle came from behind him. “What? Pro-Hero not liklin’ The hunt?” the man asked which only made him panic. “I-I Just wanted to get to where I nee-” He was cut off by a loud hello, only to see another Alpha running towards him, but this one instantly seemed much safer to be with. “Shit I knew you were taking a long time, so I decided to come find you!” You wrapped an arm around the Omegas’ waist and watched as the other Alpha only chuckled. “What kind of shit is th-” 

You let out one of the most intense growls that Hizashi ever heard, and he would be lying if he said his Omega wasn’t both scared and intrigued by you. “It’s me telling some knotlicker to fuck off.” The mans eyes widened and he took a step towards you to protest, but you instantly had a knife against his neck and his back against the ground. 

Nobody even batted an eye since many were aware of the Alpha that had been following Hizashi, yet were too scared to react. Omegas smiled seeing an Alpha intervene and other Alphas snickered under their breath. When you finally pulled away, the alpha started running. You quickly put the knife back in your pocket before smiling at Hizashi. “Would you let me walk you to where you need to go?

That’s how he met you, the Alpha who would go out of your way to walk with Hizashi whenever he was worried about getting looked at or stalked again. You explained that seeing other Alphas thirst over an Omega just trying to mind their own business pissed you off, and you were tired of people not helping. That was 5 years ago.

Now you sat beside him as he worked on grading papers, huffing softly as some music played in the background. “If I ever teach my students how to swear in English, please attack me.” He sat down an essay and ran his fingers through his long hair, huffing to himself. 

You only chuckled and moved to slip behind him in the nest, hands moving to tangle themselves in the blond locks. “Well, You better hope I don’t ever show up to UA then. I will instantly swear in front of them.” Hizashi almost purred when your fingers started massaging his scalp. “I will cry. That’s a promise and not a threat.” he said as he leaned into your hands more.

Over the years, Hizashis’ Omega claimed you as his own. He wasn’t exactly sure when, but you were his, even if neither of you had acted on any feelings. You had managed to help him through some of his heats, which only made the bond between you more intense, but neither of you ever labeled your feelings out loud. 

He finally let out a loud purr when you brushed his hair to the side and kissed his neck, scenting him some more while you were there. “You are going to make me stink.” He teased and pecked your cheek, a soft chuckle coming from you as you moved to start braiding his hair. “I don’t think that’s a genuine complaint, ‘Zashi” 

He hummed and shut his eyes while your fingers did their work. His scent got stronger by the second. “Hey love?” He simply hummed. “Have I ever told you that you smell like lemon drops?” He only smiled, knowing where it was going. “Yes, and as we have discovered many times, no my lips do not taste like lemon drops. Right now my guess is that they taste like really fuckin’ strong coffee, and the fried chicken you brought for dinner.” He heard that laugh that made his omega purr a little louder as your hand slipped from the back of his neck up into his hair before grasping and tugging. He instantly let out a soft groan before smiling at you innocently.

“Goddamn it. Will you stop being so fuckin’ cute” You huffed before letting go of his head to grab his cheeks and kiss him. He smiled into the kiss before wrapping his arms around you, omega purring up a storm. When he pulled away, he pecked your jaw. “Well?” “Oh I can taste the coffee.” He laughed and sat back up again. “Told ya.”

You just sat admiring the blond for a moment before sighing. “You do know that you’re handsome as all hell, right Zashi?” The random compliment made his cheeks burn, but he nodded. “Yeah, You tell me all of the time.” He said as he moved to grab his coffee cup. “You do know you’re just as attractive?” He asked before taking a sip, watching you nod. “Yeah, You remind me at least five times a day.” He hummed and sat down the cup.

This was the Hizashi you grew to adore. Not the loud as hell radio personality, or the Hero act he put on in front of the cameras, but this Hizashi. Sure, the others were amazing too, but this was your Omega. Surprisingly quiet since he uses a lot of his energy in his work, never really talking about his issues, and the one who was quick to text you when he was getting in his head. 

You moved close to him again and smiled when you saw the edge of his tattoo poking out from his sleeve. “I still love your tattoos too.” The blond simply grinned and looked at his arm. “I can thank you for that one too. That artist would never have let me get them if it wasn’t for you saying you were my Alpha and doing that fake mark makeup you learned.” “That was such bullshit, but don’t thank me. I just wanted to help you.” He shrugged and moved to start looking at his others. “I’m just glad I got them. I’ve wanted tattoos since I was in middle school.” You hummed and moved to trace the three black bands around his bicep, knowing they represented his 3 main friends. “I love them all.”

He smiled and moved to kiss your forehead softly before sighing. “Question.” “Bet I have an answer” He smiled at you before taking your hand “Why aren’t we together? Like...I know neither of us have really thought of it, but like...Why not?” Your eyes widened but you only smiled. “Idiot, I thought we’ve been courting for like a year now at least.” 

He stopped and looked down at your hands. “Oh...Oh fuck.” He blushed dark which only made you erupt in laughter before hugging him tight. “I never mated you because I wasn’t sure if you wanted that! If you do, then we will next time your heat rolls around!” He let out a soft whine and hid his red face in your neck, too embarrassed to do anything but nod.

“Zashi, You’re a busy guy. You’re a teacher, a radio host, and a pro-hero, so I don’t blame you for missing the things I took for courting dates. Hell sometimes it was just you sleeping on me while I played with your hair.” He pulled away before sighing. “I just feel like an ass. I just went with it, like I didn’t even question why you were being extra awesome-” You pecked his nose to cut him off. “You’re fine. Now that you know, I assume you want to still be my Omega?” He instantly nodded. “Only if you’re willing to deal with karaoke night.” You laughed and nodded. “Don’t worry. Karaoke night will be dealt with.”