#as soon as she's out of the room he just. keels over. holy fuck an archfey formed a cult and has regrets and needs help disbanding it
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rewatching c2 from the beginning. I missed molly soooo much also I love seeing the early dynamics as a whole it's so fun. they're all so mean and suspicious. except for jester ofc
#molly my beloved...#I think he would have cried laughing at the whole traveler situation#like. he would've been very sorry and sympathetic to jester abt how she was kinda living a lie but#as soon as she's out of the room he just. keels over. holy fuck an archfey formed a cult and has regrets and needs help disbanding it#would've been interesting bc he's a moonweaver guy too#not a cleric or anything and honestly I halfway see him as the type of guy to just go along with religion bc it's what he knows but he#would have had. reservations. about The Plan I think. maybe her showing up would end in him multiclassing as paladin like you're a casual#religious person u became urself around followers of this deity and u like her ideals so it's all good and fun and then ur deity actually#shows up and puts the fear of. well. herself. into this dick archfey? ure going to church every sunday wednesday and friday morning now bud#what was I talking about#anyway. liam mentioning that caleb panics a bit at firebolt. nott is still nott. fjord is from texas. yasha is chronically mia.#molly lies by omission way more than by flat out deception but he's leaving a trail#the other players are catching on but not so much the pcs#'I've been at the circus as long as I can remember' later followed by 'mollys been here for two years'#the face journeys of everyone at the table#travis and marisha whispering and sam visibly going Huh. tal was like :3 over there
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Don’t Say Goodbye
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Words: 2,193
Warnings: Blood, injury, panic, implied smut, friends with benefits situation, anger, heartbreak. I think that's it!
Request: For @viarogers who donated to the Australian Bushfires.
Summary: What a shit show.
A/N: I really hope you enjoy this!
(Not my GIF)
***
Well, this has gone terribly.
No.
Oh, no-no.
This was worse than terrible.
This was a disaster. And it had been from the moment it started.
The mission was a complete failure.
However, that’s not where it started.
(Seven months ago)
“Natasha?” You asked in the cold dead night, staring up at your bedroom ceiling. Eyes used to the dark of the room. The sun would be rising soon, anyway. You knew you wouldn’t be getting any sleep, so it was fruitless for you to even try.
“Hmm?” Natasha hummed, as she sat at the edge of your bed, pulling on her clothes.
You couldn’t bare to look at her. If you did, it was certain you would surely break down.
“Why do we keep doing this?”
Natasha chuckled, totally blanking the far off drawl to your voice.
“Because sex is fun,” she said, jumping up and down as she pulled on her jeans. Before turning to face you, leaning over your face, “And you’re a good lay.”
With that, Natasha pressed a hard kiss onto your lips, one that she did not notice that you had not reciprocated.
“I’ll see you later, baby,” she smiled over her shoulder, moving to leave the room, “Let’s do this again later.” With her back facing the door, Natasha shook her hips, with a teasing smirk on her face. “Maybe a quickie in the storage closet.”
“I’m a good lay?” You asked, still stuck on her words.
“Well, yeah.”
“Is that all I am to you?”
Natasha stopped fixing her hair, to turn and look at you once again.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“Answer my question,” you ordered.
“No. You’re not just a lay to me.”
“Then what am I?”
“Y/N,” Natasha said slowly, crawling onto the bed next to you, hand caressing your chest. Your body unmoving, eyes still locked upon the ceiling. “You’re my best friend.”
“That you sometimes sleep with.”
“I don’t think ‘sometimes’ is the most accurate word,” Natasha chuckled.
“Natasha,” your voice was firm but sad.
“Okay… you wanna be serious now?” Natasha asked sceptical, “Because that is so unlike you.”
“I’m allowed to be serious, Natasha.”
Folding her arms under herself, to rest her chin upon them, still looking at you. Natasha clarified, “I know you can. It’s just that you don’t, normally… you can’t even look at me.”
“That’s because it hurts.”
“It hurts to look at me?” Natasha asked sadly.
“Yes.”
“Y/N,” she tried, “Y/N?”
Kicking her leg over your waist, she leaned over you. Hands on your cheeks, face obscuring your view, but still unable to tear your eyes away from the ceiling above.
“Y/N, please look at me. Please,” Natasha begged.
“I can’t.”
“Why, Y/N? Why does it hurt you to look at me?”
“Because I’m in fucking love with you, and I can’t bring myself to look you in the eyes, when you only see me as your friend,” you admitted. Finally.
“Fine,” Natasha spat. She thought you were lying to get her to drop it faster. Because of course, why would she believe anyone could ever be in love with her, “Don’t tell me. You know what? Don’t even fucking talk to me.”
Storming to the door, she threw it open, before slamming it behind her.
You were right.
You didn’t sleep.
When you went out to grab breakfast not even an hour later, the whole team gave you pitying looks.
They knew of your and Natasha’s strange relationship. It’s not like either of you tried to hide it. All of them finding you in more than compromising positions, too many times for any of them to count.
Natasha was nowhere to be seen, presumably locked away in her room, allowing anger to consume her.
You hadn’t spoken since then.
Not once.
Not when the team had, as Tony liked to call ‘em, “Family dinners”. Let's just say the name stuck, and that’s what everyone called it now.
Not when it was just you two left at the compound.
Not during a mission, a briefing, nor the debriefing.
You didn’t even fight. There was no contact. Almost as if you were to say “hi” to the other, you would keel over.
You had gone on many missions like this with one another. It was only an amount of time before a mission like this was bound to happen.
It had been disastrous, from start to finish.
You were bombarded by HYDRA Agents as soon as you had stepped off the Quinjet. More than had been expected. Forcing you to retreat further into the surrounding forest, and rework the mission on the spot. Luckily it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You were The Avengers, you were always ready to think on your feet when you needed too.
The HYDRA Agents surrounded the jet, and your team was nowhere near it.
So the new objective was to wait for back up, and try to clear most of the enemy Agents away from the jet, to retreat back to base, and rework your plan accordingly.
A difficult mission. But easy enough to understand.
But things were only to get worse.
***
You were always level headed, making jokes, and keeping things light and happy. Never one to raise your voice -other than to gain attention, or for important reasons-, to snap at anyone. You were the embodiment of calm serene nature. Always trying to make the team calm down and spirits high.
Peter had, on more than one occasion, called you “chill”, to define the energy you radiated.
It was obvious to everyone that no one feared you, even if you were a skilled agent of SHIELD and an Avenger. And you liked it that way. Who would ever want to be feared?
You felt anger -of course, you did- you just found it pointless to show it and start an unnecessary fight.
Maybe you had some emotional issues to work through. But who out of your team didn’t?
So, it was only understandable how the rest of the Avengers would react when you finally lost it.
The mission was tough. The toughest yet in your year and a half on the superhero team.
“Can we get some medical assistance over here?!” Your voice called through the comms.
“On its way,” Maria wired through from base, “Should be there in twenty.”
“Gonna need it faster than that, Maria,” you almost chided through the comms.
“There’s nothing we can do, Y/N,” Maria chided right back at you.
“Fuck,” you hissed.
The sticky red substance oozed through your fingers and flowed over the ground below her, from the wound in her abdomen. There was so much blood. Too much. The bullet had hit something vital, that much was sure. But how long the woman below you had, was not.
Natasha gripped your wrist, making you snap your attention to her tear-filled eyes. Seeing the absolute openness within them, her walls had fallen. And it was almost like that was all she had to say.
She didn’t need to verbally say anything to you. You knew exactly what she wanted to say.
I’m scared.
Please don’t let me go.
Don’t leave me.
I’m sorry.
I wish I had more time with you.
To make things right.
And that’s when you broke.
“Maria, get the med-team down here now!” you roared down the comms, unknowingly making everyone's eyes go wide with shock, of how angry you sounded, some of your teammates stumbling in their current task because of it.
Even Natasha’s eyes, which were exponentially weaker than they were a few moments ago, grew slightly wider at your sudden outburst. Her hand, however, still gripping onto you tightly.
“Holy shit, Y/N,” Tony finally regained his composure, and was able to mutter into the comms, his voice soft with worry as he continued, “How bad is it, really?”
You didn’t reply, knowing you would break down and cry if you did, already feeling that sore burn in the back of your throat, chin wobbling as you tensed your neck.
Instead, you decided to ask, with your voice hard with worry, “Maria?”
“I’ve told them to speed things up. They should be with you in exactly six minutes.”
Sparing a glance back up to Natasha’s increasingly paling face, you knew it still wasn’t fast enough.
Natasha knew it too, if the was she smiled sadly at you was anything to go by.
“That still doesn’t work for me, Maria,” you said while pressing harder onto the still seeping bullet wound, causing the red-head you whine out in pain, “We need it faster than that.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Maria replied weakly.
“God fucking- Damnit!” Your sentence began off weak before it turned into a loud frustrated yell.
You were helpless. You literally could do nothing to help her. Everyone knew that. And you hated that.
“Y/N?”
You were pulled out of your own mind, with the whisper of your name. Thankful to have been aided in your escape from the swimming thoughts. Until that is, you saw the look on Natasha’s face.
It was pitying almost. She was so sorry. Tears streaming down her face, and a sad smile on her face.
“I’m sorry-”
“Don’t,” you interrupted her, “Please. Don’t.”
“Y/N, please just let me say this,” she begged. Which you nodded at her, giving her the go-ahead, to continue, “I’m so sorry. I should have stayed that night. I should have talked to you. I wish I did... I wish we had more time...”
“Please don’t do this,” you cried, chest shaking as you tried to hold in your sobs.
Natasha tugged lightly on your wrist, indicating that she wanted you to move closer to her.
“Just- Just hold me, please?”
“Of course.” You nodded. Removing one of your hands from her gaping wound, to slide it under her neck, causing Natasha to groan at the movement. You kissed in between her eyebrows, as you laid beside her. Whispering for her to try and hold on just a little while longer.
If only she had listened to your pleas. As her eyes fluttered closed, and you couldn't wake her when you shook her. Just as the quintet whirred above you, in its landing.
***
It had been fifty-seven hours since the mission.
And you had not left the hospital since you had gotten back to base.
Your hand clasped in the red-heads clammy one, eyes trained on either her chest to make sure she was still breathing, or her face to give you the confirmation you needed that she was, still in fact, here.
Natasha was still not awake.
The doctors said that it was normal with an induced coma. However, that didn’t stop your worry. You didn’t think that it would leave you until Natasha was fully back on her feet. But you knew that there would still be that little voice in the back of your head, reminding you of this. Keeping the knowledge of her mortality with you for the rest of your life.
As you stared at her face, that had regained most of its colour back, you kept on thinking back to when Natasha had become limp and lifeless in your arms. And the emergency blood transfusion you had given on the medical-evac, as medics swarmed Natasha, trying to stop the, somehow, still bleeding wound.
You hadn't noticed that you were staring blankly at your entwined hands until you felt yours being squeezed.
Looking up, you saw Natasha awake, abet groggy, and smiling at you.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Oh, thank God you’re okay.” The relief that you felt was next to extraordinary, the weight upon your shoulders mostly leaving you, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time since the mission.
“Thank God you’re here.”
“Like I’d be anywhere else.”
The corner of Natasha’s lip twitched up, as she weakly tugged you closer to her body. Both of you relishing in the soft kiss you shared, the one that was long overdue thanks to your shared stubbornness, and obliviousness.
“What was that for?” you whispered against her lips, moving to carefully sit next to her bandaged abdomen on the bed, still caressing her hand on your lap. Your other arm holding you up on the other side of the hospital bed, as you leaned over her, Natasha’s empty hand resting on your upper arm.
If anyone were to walk into the room right now, they would instantly know that they had interrupted something so intimate and private, that they would be quick to rush out of the room.
Which is exactly what Tony did. Deciding instead it was best to fetch a doctor to check on Natasha, while you two spoke.
“I love you, too.”
“What?” you asked shell shocked.
“You-” Natasha started anxiously, her voice uncharistically small, “You still love me, don't you?”
“Of course I do.”
Natasha let out a relieved sigh.
“If you say yes, I’d really like to try again. Have a real relationship this time? Actually, try the dating thing.”
You smiled leaning down to whisper, just before you kissed her once again, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”
#original work#original fanfiction#fics for australia#help australia#australia bushfires#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff#marvel#MCU
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Ink spills on your skin (1/?)
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings: None at the moment
Summary:
If the perfect blank canvas walked in, wouldn’t you want to paint it too? Or in which one Wei Wuxian colors the entire world of one Lan Wangji.
Inspired beautifully by @eledsart‘s Tattoo Artist WWX drawings!
[Link to AO3]
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Wen Qing is going to kill him.
Look, when you’re friends with Wei Wuxian this long you learn all his quirks and habits, including the one where he gets up barely five minutes before opening and comes barreling around corners like a bull in Spain. She’s seen him skid right into walls with how fast he’s going, tumbling over himself and popping right back up with that megawatt smile still pasted on his face. But sometimes, especially when it’s this important, you’d think he wouldn’t be late.
She’s carrying A-Yuan in her arms, bouncing him up and down as he dozes off. Wei Wuxian is lucky that she adores A-Yuan’s little toddler face but mark her words, Wei Wuxian is going to pay for making her wait. She’s waiting in front of the shop, not open yet. It never opens before noon, since the gods themselves would not be able to drag Wei Wuxian out of bed.
Last night, he had requested (begged) with his big puppy eyes for Wen Qing to take A-Yuan, just for the night because he was going to be up working and he didn’t want A-yuan to be kept awake by his paper shuffling or his bone popping. Bones don’t pop, she said, but agreed anyways. Besides, Wen Ning was begging too with his own big puppy eyes behind Wei Wuxian and she wasn’t so cruel as to say no.
But now it’s time for her to get to her own work and she taps her foot, rolling her eyes when she finally spots him sprinting down the street like he’s going for the olympic gold. Another thing she’s learned about Wei Wuxian is that he’s really good at dodging obstacles, weaving over, under and around people and their items. Someone shouts as he barely misses them. Wen Qing is starting to think maybe she can get to her appointment with her professor on time when she watches him crash straight into someone else, sending a whole flurry of papers out of their arms and into the air.
She sighs, pulls out her phone and emails her professor.
Wei Wuxian has the worst luck. He’s always managed to get into trouble, whether he was looking for it or not. He always liked to say that trouble was looking for him and Wen Qing would smack him over the head with her notebook. But man, this is probably the worst since he can see Wen Qing in her knee-length red cardigan, impatiently bouncing his ward on her hip. He knows she’s got an appointment and he’s going to be really sorry about this later. Should’ve been more careful, he thinks as papers flutter and the person he bowled over sits up. “Sorry! So sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going! Well I was but then again I was going like seventy three miles an hour and I didn’t mean to bump into you I’m so sorry again,” he’s babbling a little but he can see the exasperation in Wen Qing’s face as she pulls out her phone and he’s scrambling to pick up sheets of paper, collecting them in a haphazard pile in his arms with corners sticking in every direction. Most of the sheets aren’t even facing up probably but he’s really got to go. Once he’s acquired most of them on the ground near him and has done a quick sweep around to make sure he hasn’t missed any, he holds them out and sheepishly smiles. “Sorry again, I didn’t mea-”
So here’s the thing about Wei Wuxian. He is many things. Troublemaker, chaos creator, absolute fucking moron. Brilliant designer, inventor and artist. He is also, now, in love.
His jaw drops as does the volume of his voice, an awed whisper. “Holy shit you’re so fucking cute.” And it’s true, an angel in all their radiance has descended and blessed Wei Wuxian with an adorable fucking person.
Said person looks like they’ve swallowed a lemon with their sharp eyes and pursed lips and yet still, he is captured by the hazel gold that gleams in the sun. He could sit for hours and count the flecks in their eyes that dance as they shift to collect more papers with their long fingered hands, elegant in a way that Wei Wuxian could never be. The slope of his broad shoulders held high, the thickness of his thighs that were pressed against the formal black of his slacks. And his hair, a bit fluffy. Wei Wuxian wonders if he could run his hands through it, it looks so soft.
“Shameless.” He’s broken out of his dream by a tight voice as the person finishes collecting their papers and stands, compelling him to stand as well, still holding a pile of papers. Mouth slightly agape in how beautiful that one word sounded. Head filled with thoughts about how his name might sound, formed by those lips. The man takes the stack of papers with a small huff, glaring once more at Wei Wuxian and then he strides past. He smells like sandalwood and bergamot.
Wei Wuxian is many things and as of this moment forth, he is also a lovestruck idiot.
“Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing’s irritable voice breaks him out of his daze and his face falls. Aw, shit . A-Yuan’s big eyes brighten and he reaches his little toddler hands out, wanting his Xian-gege to pick him up even as Wen Qing bounces him. She, on the other hand, does not look as cute with a glowering frown that makes Wei Wuxian’s entire soul shrivel up a little. If looks could kill.
He sprints the last distance, apologies pouring from his mouth again. He’s said sorry seventy three times today and it hasn’t even been an hour since he woke up. That’s got to be a new record. “Wen Qing, you, light of my life, are the only thing that keeps me grounded in this world so cruel.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m so fuc- uh, so sorry I’m late! I missed my bus and then it would’ve taken forever to arrive again so I kind of sprinted across like seven blocks? And then I ran into this absolute cutie-”
“I’m aware. I saw you.” He shuts his mouth with a blush that could reach the high heavens. “Now stop being a moron and take A-Yuan or my professor really will have my head.” She holds out her arms and A-Yuan already has his arms outstretched, making little grabby hands. Wei Wuxian takes the precious gift gratefully, shifting to perch A-Yuan on his own hip. He bows to her, another quiet apology as A-Yuan starts babbling off everything they did last night, from dinner to a movie to board games and coloring and magic tricks with Wen Ning. “I’ll be late tonight, Wen Ning will bring you guys dinner later today. And do not forget that you need to get milk from the store. A-Yuan was very upset we didn’t have any this morning.”
Wei Wuxian at least has the sense to look slightly ashamed of himself but he pops up just as quick with a salute. “Yes ma’am!” A-Yuan mimics him before dissolving into giggles, pulling on Wei Wuxian’s sleeves. “Do you want anything? Maybe some tiramisu? I can also make my classic double chocolate chip cookies!” A-Yuan lights up and though Wen Qing still has a sour look on her face, she nods. Her phone buzzes and she sighs, reaching up to pat A-Yuan’s head before bustling off and vanishing in the crowd.
“Xian-gege, Xian-gege! I want to play! Can I color on you again?” Wei Wuxian chuckles as he starts to shuffle around for his keys. “Ning-gege says he made lots of these!” He has to resist a shudder when A-Yuan’s slightly clammy hands start poking around his neck where wreaths of flowers and other tattoos crawl up. “And he said that jiejie made them too! Can they make some for me?” Fishing out his keyring, Wei Wuxian just laughs again.
“Maybe when you’re a little bigger A-Yuan.” That earns him a pout but soon enough it morphs into a look of wonder as Wei Wuxian unlocks the door and opens up his store. Yiling Tattoo was well known in the area for its incredible artists who were always fair with their price. Wei Wuxian was the only one who was there all the time (as the owner) but people whispered far and wide about the delicate lines Nie Huaisang painted or the more bold and contrasted work that Jiang Cheng marked. Jiang Yanli was also a commonplace sight though she had apparently retired since her marriage to THE Jin Zixuan, multimillionaire and heir to the Jin luxury goods empire. There was also the recently hired Xiao Xingchen, who had made a name for himself using intricate dot work and wandering the globe with his tools.
Setting A-Yuan down, Wei Wuxian gets to work flicking on all the lights and starting up the thermostat. He takes all the tools and sticks them into the autoclave. They’ll be ready when the shop opens, probably. Just in case, Wei Wuxian has always kept an up-to-date stash of disposable, sterile tools tucked away in the supply room. He puts A-Yuan up on the counter of the front desk (where Mianmian works) and pecks his cheek, sending the child into peals of laughter. “Be good while I clean okay?” A-Yuan nods but as Wei Wuxian turns to get the cleaning supplies, he’s stopped by a rather firm grip on his sleeves. “Mm? What’s up bud?”
“Wanna help gege.” Wei Wuxian might keel over and die right now with how adorable A-Yuan looks, cheeks puffed out and determined eyes. “Can I? Please?” Wei Wuxian wonders how in the world he ever got this precious little bundle of joy in his life.
“Mm, are you suuuuure? It’s hard woooooork.” Even sitting on the counter, A-Yuan doesn’t quite reach eye level so he has to crouch as he speaks, pinching A-Yuan’s cheek. “You don’t want to play a little?” But even so, A-Yuan isn’t deterred and shakes his head vigorously.
“Nu-uh! Wanna help Xian-gege! Pleeeeeease?” And who’s Wei Wuxian to turn down such an honest request.So he picks out the disinfectant and the mop and all the other cleaning supplies he needs to make this place as germ free as possible. He sets A-Yuan on the floor and crouches, lowering his voice to a stage whisper, “Okay, here’s the plan…”
It takes longer than usual to finish cleaning up but they finish before the store opens. Mianmian is the first to arrive, laughing as she watched A-Yuan delicately place the design images around the walls in the waiting area. She knows the drill, already prepared with so many activities for him. Today’s activity seems to be some sort of lanyard weaving or something, if Wei Wuxian’s eyes don’t betray him when he sees the spools poking out from her “A-Yuan bag”.
Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang are right on her heels, arriving only a few minutes later. Nie Huaisang has a smirk on his face as he pulls out a coffee from behind his back. Caramel macchiato just like Wei Wuxian likes. He stows the cleaning supplies away first before taking the cup with a moan. “Nie Huaisang, love of my life!” Jiang Cheng snorts and rolls his eyes.
“Put a hand on him and you’ll lose it.” Wei Wuxian quickly jerks his hands back, feigning offense. Jiang Cheng should have a PhD in eye rolling, right up there with Wen Qing. He stalks off to go enjoy the coffee in the backroom they reserve for more private tattoos and piercings. Sighing, he sits and glances over the schedule of appointments on his phone. They have about half an hour before opening so he takes his sweet time sipping.
It’s a busy day as always. Jiang Cheng is working on a large piece that stretches across the whole back. Huaisang is doing mostly touch ups and walk-ins. And Wei Wuxian, well, he’s only got one appointment in the evening so he resolves to spend time designing and drawing up front with Mianmian and A-Yuan. She handles most of the admin work so he can sit back with his thick black notebook, bursting with all kinds of drawings. Mostly stylized though he does have a few that are more realistic.
The bell chimes and he looks up, expecting a customer or perhaps his shijie with a bowl of steaming lotus root and rib soup. Instead, his book flies out of his hand and slams into the counter and he pushes his chair back to stand and look at the face of the very angel who he had crashed into in the morning.
Accompanied by another man with similar features and a much kinder smile. Accompanied by Nie Mingjue. (“Ah, da-ge!”) Accompanied by Jin Guangyao (probably, Wei Wuxian doesn’t remember the Jins very well despite being family).
Wei Wuxian has a knack for names and faces but he swears up and down he would’ve remembered seeing these two brothers (?) before if they were friends with Nie Mingjue. He swallows, leaning so far forward over the counter that he’s inches from the tipping point. “So,” he smirks, eyes lidded, “what’s a beauty like you doing here?”
Behind him, Mianmian covers A-Yuan’s ears and snickers. Wei Wuxian is far too into his head to care though there’s no doubt that she’s going to rib him into the ether later. For his credit though, the angel just levels a cool stare and Wei Wuxian finds that he really doesn’t mind it at all. Especially when he notes that his ears are turning a gentle shade of pink.
The other handsome stranger sweeps in, saving his brother (?) the trouble of finding a real reply. His lips crest in a smile but his eyes dance with a mild threat and Wei Wuxian backs off, knowing there’s trouble to be had and for once not wanting to get into it. “We have an appointment. With Wei Wuxian.” One glance at Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao shows exactly how smitten they are with this pretty, pretty voice that floats melodically in a shop full of buzzing needles.
“Uh, that’d be me! You’re…” He glances down at the open appointment list on Mianmian’s computer. “Lan Xichen?” He receives a nod. Returning with a nod of his own, he quickly pulls up the appointment details. As a matter of fact, it’s not just Lan Xichen but apparently also Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao. They’re getting matching tattoos? Wei Wuxian had never pegged Nie Mingjue as the type but there’s a first for everything he supposes as he prints the details out and sticks the paper into his notebook. “Well, follow me I guess.” He hopes the angel follows too as he takes them to the consultation room in the back.
Wei Wuxian has a process when it comes to his art. First, accept no walk-in that isn’t well thought out. Second, never ink on the first meeting without thorough discussion of every detail, including a sketch if it’s a simple design. Third, he will not touch other people’s work just like he would hope no one touches his own. Finally, the tattoo must be completed with a customer satisfied before he lets it go. Granted, this has caused some problems in the past with people who would stumble in drunk and demand something in his style without any care or consideration. And with a few disgruntled customers who thought they were getting one thing even when he went through the whole process with them from start to finish. It was always weird when someone was upset with their finished product when they had been the ones to okay every detail (with forms!) every step of the way.
The angel does follow though a bit slower. Gold eyes seem to flick every which way, taking in the organized mess that is the Yiling tattoo parlor. With Jiang Cheng’s grimace as he intensely shades and Nie Huaisang’s tongue poking out as he finishes the last delicate line on a camellia, it’s no wonder. Still, Wei Wuxian kind of wished those eyes would be watching him. Maybe they would be when he was working later.
The backroom is much quieter, with padding in the walls to block noise going in and out. He gestures at the chairs across the table and the four of them take a seat, the angel sitting a bit further in the back. Wei Wuxian takes his own seat and sets his book on the table, flipping open to a fresh page and popping the cap off his pen to take notes. “Alright, what’re we in for today?”
There’s a moment when the three exchange looks and Wei Wuxian feels like they’re arguing about who should speak. In the end it’s Lan Xichen who does it, though he seems a bit annoyed if the slight tightness in his voice is any indicator. “We were looking for something that could connect across motifs of nature.” Okay, kinda broad. Thankfully it looks like they’ve put thought into this as each of them pulls out a sheet of paper. It’s funny to see them side by side. Lan Xichen’s is folded so neatly it doesn’t seem human. Nie Mingjue’s is kind of crumpled, like he shoved it into his pocket without thinking. And Jin Guangyao’s is neat and messy at the same time, the corners and edges having taken a beating.
Wei Wuxian collects them and scans them with bursting concentration, taking his pen and marking up the pages without restraint. He can see Nie Mingjue twitch a little out of the corner of his eye but well, what’s paper for if not for ink? It seems like their motifs are centered around osmanthus or plum blossom flowers, colorful flames, and the moon hidden behind clouds. Okay, well, nothing too unusual. But this is going to be a pretty big project and Wei Wuxian chews on his lip as he compiles a list of things to consider and ask.
Thankfully (again), it seems like they already have a basic shape idea in mind as well as style, size and coloring. Wei Wuxian is so goddamn thankful that they really did think this through. It makes his life so much easier and within the hour, he’s already got a rough sketch which he shows off with pride.
It’s a circle of flames intertwined with osmanthus and plum blossom both, circling around the hidden full moon. He’s scribbled some rough details around the edge, indicating size and colorings. This piece isn’t his usual kind (it’s more up Nie Huaisang’s alley actually) but as they pore over the drawing, he finds himself getting more and more invested. There are small tweaks and details but it seems like overall they’re satisfied with the design. Jin Guangyao requests that the flames be a little more explosive and Nie Mingjue seems entirely caught up on the positioning of the flowers. Xichen focuses specifically on the moon but by the end of a long session, they’ve settled on a final design which Wei Wuxian will draw up later and send to them in its final form, without all the scribbles in the margins.
He pulls up a few forms and has them fill out basic information as well as consenting to the tattoo design and process. They will be charged at least partially upfront due to the size and complexity of the piece. Finally, they fill out details about where they want the tattoos and any final notes they want to be taken into consideration.
All this while, the angel has sat ramrod straight, watching with a level of curiosity that doesn’t show anywhere but in the gleam of his eyes. Wei Wuxian wonders what it might take for him to stop looking like a complete sourpuss. With the forms signed and returned to him, he collects them with the three papers they brought and puts them all collectively into his notebook. He stretches and stands, letting out a sigh. “That’ll be all for today. I’ll send over the final design within the next few days. Please feel free to make any changes but do be reasonable about them. We’ll set up another appointment with Mianmian and we can start inking when everything’s in order. Sound good?”
He’s met with three identical nods. Lan Xichen’s smile is brighter than the sun. Jin Guangyao is more reserved but his lips curl and he has that happy bounce in his step. Nie Mingjue even cracks a grin and ruffles Wei Wuxian’s hair on the way out. As he takes them back out to the front, Wei Wuxian notices that the angel hasn’t spoken once, nor does he seem to intend to. He’s ringing them up for the consultation fee and maybe his staring wasn’t quite as covert as he had hoped since Lan Xichen, when handing over his card to pay, also gestures to the silent beauty. “This is my brother, Lan Wangji. He’s here for… Emotional support.” That gets a snort out of Wei Wuxian that breaks out into full laughter as Wangji looks like a strangled cat. Lan Wangji, a name pretty enough to match. How would it taste in his mouth?
“Well!” He slides the receipt across for a signature, never breaking eye contact with Lan Wangji. “It was nice to meet you both, I look forward to your future patronage and then some.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Lan Wangji’s ears flare red that seem to crawl to his cheeks. Again, he speaks just one word in that perfect, beautiful voice of his.
“Shameless.”
#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#the untamed#eledsart#tattoo artist au#wei wuxian#wei ying#lan wangji#lan zhan#lan xichen#lan huan#nie mingjue#jin guangyao#meng yao#jiang cheng#nie huaisang#mianmian#luo qingyang#wen yuan#lan sizhui#wen qing#wen ning#wen qionglin#ink spills on your skin
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Fraxus prompt : Healing after battle
It’s Freed and Laxus during the Alvarez arc babes. This one’s for @cherryxcoco who gave me prompts !!! Thanks !! (it’s my first time writing these two heck ya)
He really should stop dawdling in front of the infirmary already. Porlyusica had left a little earlier, because she needed 'a fucking nap and far away from these pests too' and if that wasn't an indication that her patients were alright, nothing would be. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath and gently opening the wooden door separating him and his team.
Creaking obnoxiously, the door sweeps (well, more like inches open) and Laxus curses softly. "Fucking door, shut up. Haven't they been through enough shit already?" His tomfoolery gets greeted by a warm laugh and of course, the worst patient ever, also known as Freed Justine, is out of his bed. Perched upon the windowsill (because why would he use a chair like a normal person?), the man in question gives him a smile. "Good afternoon", he says casually, as though he hadn't been buried underneath a cathedral a few hours earlier.
For a moment, he doesn't quite know what to respond to that. 'Yeah man, nice seeing you after I thought y'all were dead. How's it goin? Not too aight, since your siblings in all but blood are still unconscious and you are bruised all over.' Since words are currently doing a great job at failing him, he simply crosses the room and comes to a halt right in front of him.
Him. The ever so responsible captain. His best friend (they should talk about titles sometimes because 'best friend' doesn't sound like enough). Freed Justine, who looks at him with blue eyes where sadness lurks in the depths of them and who opens his mouth, probably to apologise. Before that can happen, Laxus cuts him off by cupping the back of his head with a steady hand and presses him close to his chest. "If you dare to apologise, I will go shopping for you and you'll be forced to wear only those clothes. Say goodbye to your regency-esque clothes, it'll be Hawaiian shirts and leather pants only."
"I hate leather", Freed's muffled voice protests as he reciprocates the hug somewhat, tightening one arm around Laxus' middle. "It feels awful when it's hot out and in general, it tends to get very uncomfortable around-"
"You'll get used to it", he smoothly cuts in and Freed hums. "Maybe to the leather, yeah. But Hawaiian shirts really is taking it a step too far." With a sigh, Freed detaches himself from Laxus and he refrains from chasing after the warmth of the other. Crossing his arms, he watches as Freed plucks a brush from a nearby nightstand and slowly, carefully starts treading it through his messy locks.
Had it been any other day, then he would've taken care of that a lot earlier. But that's the thing isn't it? Today isn't an ordinary day and the two of them can talk around the actual fact of the matter and pretend it is all they like, it still doesn't change the fact that Bix and Ever are laying unconscious in beds near them. Doesn't change the fact that the bags under Freed's eyes are a worrying shade of dark blue and it doesn't change the fact that the man's hands tremble as he holds onto a simply wooden brush.
"Are you alright?" Laxus asks and it's as rhetorical as a question can be. He doesn't regret asking it though, because it gives both Freed and him a chance to think this all over. For a moment, it looks like Freed is just going to give him a smile and wave his worries away. His lips already quirk up to do exactly that, but then the brush slips from his fingers, meeting the floor with a muted 'thud'.
A shaky exhale follows and before Freed can get himself off the windowsill to pick it up himself, Laxus already has the object in his hand. "Can I?" Quick as lightnening, a flash of anger appears in Freed's blue eyes and Laxus knows how prideful his captain is. He doesn't mean to insult him though, so he lays all of his cards on the table. "I've been feeling useless lately. You guys keep getting hurt and I'm never able to help. Please let me have this."
The reaction is immediate. Shoulders drooping, Freed beckons him closer with a movement of his head. As the other man shuffles a bit to the side to make place on the windowsill, Laxus sits down and tries to detangle the worst knots with his fingers first. It's a slow, arduous process, but it's worth it, he thinks, as Freed leans on him more and the tremors in his body subside a bit as his breathing pattern slows down. Neither of them says anything as Laxus trades his fingers for the brush and rids Freed's hair of any and all tangles.
"Done", he announces in a quiet tone when he's ready and when Freed turns to face him, Laxus wishes that he could whisk all the matters that are keeping his captain from happiness away just as easily. "Thank you", Freed replies, just as quietly, opens his mouth to say something and then snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head. "Talk to me", he demands as gently as he can. Biting his lip, Freed seems to question whether he should relay what's on his mind to Laxus.
His eyes move from the floor to meet Laxus' and whatever he finds in there must've convinced him, because he lets his head flop down on Laxus' shoulder with a defeated little sigh. Defeat isn't a good look on him and Laxus wishes he could help. "Me too", he says and after seeing Laxus' confused stare, he explains himself. "I too, feel useless. My team keeps getting hurt and I can't do anything about it. A fight happens and we're out within the first round. The only fight involving Fairy Tail where I actually contributed to it, was the one where we were trying to destroy it. Isn't that funny?"
His voice breaks on the 'funny' and before they can travel down his cheeks, he angrily wipes away the tears that have started to form. "Fuck", he whispers hoarsely and with that uncharacteristic curse word, the facade falls apart and all that's left is a simple man burying his face in Laxus' shirt and gripping the fabric as though it's a lifeline.
With his arms, Laxus builds a small fort around the other man, allowing him the privacy he knows the other appreciates. As muffled sobs down and Freed stops clenching his teeth in frustration, Laxus open his arms up again. "Hey there", he greets and brushes all of Freed's hair out of his face. With gentle movements of both of his thumbs, he wipes away the tear tracks and with his gaze, he demands the other to return it (it's taken him a while, but he's learned that there's no shame in feeling things. That doesn't mean that he's going to share his thoughts with everyone, but he has a soft spot for his closest friends).
"You've done well", he states and before Freed can protest, he continues. "You protected our whole city against an entire army, there's no denying that. You three actually took down a member of the Spriggan Twelve."
"We didn't." Freed's tone is flat as he looks away, ashamed and Laxus wishes he could shake the stubborn pride out of the man (he doesn't actually wish that, but he does want the captain to be a bit easier on himself. Freed should give the captain a break sometimes.) "We destroyed what was essentially, a remote controlled robot of his. A child's plaything, if you will." The sarcasm drips from his sentences like vile poison and it's right then and there that Laxus decides that Zeref can fuck off.
"I want to fight", Freed admits and Laxus doesn't doubt it for a minute. He also doesn't doubt that the other man is going to keel over as soon as he leaves that windowsill. "Later", he promises because he knows that not even God himself could keep Freed Justine in the infirmary for too long. For all that he worries about his team, he's awful at selfcare. "Take a nap for now, you need it."
Despite the dark circles underneath his eyes, it seems like Freed is going to protest and while they are having an intense staring match, Laxus hopes that it's not going to be a forced relaxation situation again (that time had been a team intervention and even then it hadn't gone all that well). Instead of choosing to be difficult, Freed just sighs and stretches out his arms. "Fine. But you'll have to carry me."
Rather unceremoniously he dumps a disgruntled Freed on the bed and hides a smile when the man kicks at him like a petulant child. "You're so childish", he has the nerve to say and rolls his eyes, before they start drooping and he lays back. His breathing evens out, but Laxus knowns his captain well enough to see that he isn't asleep just yet. Nevertheless, Laxus cards his fingers through strands of green. "Goodnight."
"It isn't even night", Freed mumbles, half asleep. Suddenly he breaks out of this state and looks at Laxus with a frantic light in his eyes. "Laxus I've got it", he whispers and briefly, he wonders if the Kardia cathedral might've hit his friend too hard. "A barrier", he continues, making absolutely zero sense.
"Rune magic, magical barrier particles, the cancellation of both of them", he rambles on, providing Laxus with enough dots to connect. "Holy shit", he breathes, "Freed Justine you're a genius and I love you."
"I'd kind of hope so, we've been friends for a long time."
"You know, that's not really what I meant." Freed gives him one of those smug smirks of his. "Oh I know, you aren't a subtle man. But now is neither the time nor place for any of that. I've taught you a barrier before, that one should suffice. Go kick ass and take back your health."
His tone softens again. "After that, let's talk about the other things. Give me something to look forward to after this whole shitshow has ended."
"I will", Laxus promises. "See ya later?"
Freed rolls his eyes. "Of course. I already told you I'd follow you anywhere, even to hell."
"You may follow me to hell after a nap."
"Duly noted."
The conversation draws a snort out of the both of them and after that, Freed collapses back unto the bed, arms raised. "Alright, I give in. Goodnight Laxus."
"Goodnight Freed", he answers but doesn't leave until he's certain that the other is sound asleep. "See ya in hell."
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Bad Trip
Summary: hii!! i was wondering if you could write about like colson and the reader, and the reader has like really bad trip on drugs or something and it makes their anxiety worse and she’s like stuck in the bad high but colson’s there with them?? :)
Warnings: I mean drugs and swearing. Nothing too intense.
A/N: Hey I hope you like this! I don’t know a lot about drugs besides what I learned in psychology back in high school, but I hope this works out. I focused more on the panic and comforting rather than the tripping.
“Kel’s I’ve never done this before. I’m scared.” I shivered to which Colson just laughs at me.
“You said you wanted to try it Y/N.” He says with a light laugh.
“Yeah, but what if--”
“Y/N stop over thinking okay? It’s going to be okay.” He says as he splits the paper squares.
“What if something bad happens? What if we get hurt or do something stupid?” He rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Do you trust me?” He asks me with his clear eyes looking into mine.
“What? Of course I do? Why would you ask such a thing?” I chuckled to which Colson held his hand out to me.
“Then here” He hands me the tiny strip of paper on his finger. “Remember I’ll be sober so I can watch you okay?” His eyes look into mine with so much sincerity. I know he would never let anything happen to me. I smiled at him weakly and I hesitantly place it on my tongue.
*****
I could feel my breathing breathing. Is that weird? I was lying on some pillows just looking around the room. I could feel my heart start to race a little, but I knew that would happen. I continued to take deep breaths until I could calm down. I looked around the room seeing Colson was nowhere to be seen. Did I fall asleep? There’s no way I could have slept. But where did he go? I feel I would have noticed him leave the room. I slowly lifted myself up as my eyes rolled around the room. I can’t really describe what I’m feeling, but I know I can feel myself starting to panic.
“C-Colson?” I said slightly above a whisper. I couldn’t feel my voice. More importantly, I couldn’t hear Colson. I could however, feel and hear my heartbeat pounding through my ear. I started to feel a little nauseous, but I held it together. “Cole!” I let out a small shout as I keel over clutching my chest. I felt the room was spinning and everything was kinda dark. I was breathing rather quickly and I could feel my body vibrating. I feel as if I had just gotten out of a pool. I was really hot and felt soaked. I gasped for air only to feel a breeze inside of me. I felt like my throat was closing or that I was drowning or something.
“Oh shit!” I heard from the kitchen and soon I felt someone’s arms squeezing me tightly. “Oh shit Y/N.” Colson says as he pushes my soppy wet hair off my forehead. “Here.” He lightly tilts my head back and I feel a nice cool bottle press against my lips as I slowly start to drink some water. “Holy fuck I just went to get some pizza rolls for the kitchen and you decide to freak the fuck out on me.” He chuckles. I can’t really feel or respond but I smile a little. Water then trickles down my chin to which Colson laughs at me. I then feel my heartbeat slowed back down and I feel better.
“I don’t know what happened, but I don’t want to do this again.” We both laughed as he dried my sweaty forehead off. “I’m sorry.” I admitted a little embarrassed.
“Yeah, that’s normal. Normally you wouldn’t freak the fuck out, but here we are.” He laughs at me again. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Here, have a pizza roll.” He says handing me the plate. “And this is why one of us typically stays sober.” He laughs while pulling me up against him with our backs leaning against the couch. He grabs the remote and turns on Netflix and then grabs the pizza rolls and places them between our laps. The rest of the night I felt safe. The movie still had me seeing trippy colors and shit, but overall I didn’t feel as terrified as I did before. Having Colson next to me made my soul feel a thousand times more at peace. His arm was wrapped around my side holding me close against him.
The movie goes on for I feel is awhile, but I don’t know until Colson presses his forehead against the side of my temple. “I didn’t mean to leave you.” He gently whispers in my ear. I let out a small breath with a smile.
“I know you didn’t. I know.” I said turning and pressing my forehead against his. “Thank you for being here with me.” I whispered to him as I leaned in and pressed my lips against his gently. I felt him kissing back with felt like a thousand sparks between our lips. He pulled away as we both smiled.
“You’ll have to let me kiss you when you’re sober sometime babe.” He says as my heart starts to freak out at him calling me babe.
“Of course.” I chuckled as I laid my head on his shoulder for the rest of the movie.
#machine gun kelly#machine gun kelly imagine#machine gun kelly x reader#machine gun kelly one shot#machine gun kelly fanfiction#mgk tommy lee#mgk imagine#mgk x reader#mgk one shot#mgk fanfic#mgk
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Questions and Answers.
*grins* It’s time.
TIME TO VALIDATE MY PARKING, HOLY SHIT!!!! I SPENT TWO WEEKS WRITING THIS FIC AND THREE DAYS EDITING IT!!! IT’S 13.6K WORDS LONG!!! I REFERENCED EVERY SINGLE OTHER FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN FOR THE CHC IN THIS FIC AT LEAST ONCE!!!
I’m gonna toot my own horn, dammit. I worked hard on this, I know it’s good, but for the LOVE OF CHEEZITS PLEASE I WANT THE COMMENTS AND INTERNET LOVE!!!
No summary, because that would literally give everything away --but I would hope the title makes everything evident.
Rating: T for language, implied sex, mentions of sex, nudity, mentions of abuse, mentions of angst, and a literal buttload of fluff.
Set after everything that’s been written for the CHC thus far.
Special thank you to @leo-writer for proofing this for me.
Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things
Your morning alarm goes off on your phone, pulling you out of your slumber and into a brand-new day.
You flail around aimlessly, eyes squeezed shut, until you manage to find the wretched device and shut the alarm off. You sigh when the bedroom you share with Piotr falls silent once more, then roll over so you can see out the balcony windows and open your eyes.
It’s a beautiful late spring morning. The sky is a flawless shade of blue. Golden light streams through the windows –Piotr must’ve opened the curtains when he got up, since he knows it helps you wake up.
Speaking of which, Piotr’s not in bed with you. Which isn’t all that unusual, admittedly. He’s a consummate morning bird, and often takes advantage of the early hours of the day to work out, draw, handle official X-Men business, or spend time grading and working on lessons. There’s been plenty of mornings where you’ve woken up to an empty bed and a text or two on your phone, reminding you to eat breakfast and letting you know where to find him if you need him.
Except there aren’t any texts on your phone this morning.
There is, however, a large white envelope on Piotr’s nightstand, addressed to you. It’s propped against the lamp, and your name is written on it in thick, bold letters –Piotr’s handwriting, from the looks of it.
And that is unusual, because both of you know that your tendency to overlook basic details of your environment makes leaving physical notes a bad idea; texts, on the other hand, are safe because you always keep your phone on you.
So, the deviation from the norm, plus the way the card has obviously been staged to get your attention, means that Piotr is definitely up to something.
You pick up the envelope and rip it open.
Inside is a handmade card with a picture of a little forest scene on it –you’ll recognize it later as the scenery outside the sunroom in the little house Piotr stays in on his art retreats—which further confirms it as Piotr’s handiwork.
You open the card and start reading it.
Myshka,
Happy Anniversary.
You blink, then check your phone’s calendar function. Shit, how’d that happen? It was last fall, like, two seconds ago.
I wanted to do something special for you today, so I hope you will not mind that I planned scavenger hunt of sorts for you. There are several envelopes like these around the house, and they will lead you to each place on journey. (I recommend you follow in order, instead of looking at random; it might be confusing otherwise.)
You smile broadly; it’s just too damn sweet.
And completely on the nose for you, because you definitely would’ve searched the mansion at random for the cards if he hadn’t told you to go in order.
Anyway.
Unfortunately, to make sure everything runs smooth, I will not be able to join you. I will see you at end of day, when you have finished your journey. (If there is emergency, you can always reach me on my cellphone.)
All of my love to you always,
Piotr
You have to take a minute to process it all; it’s so unbelievably sweet and thoughtful and Piotr that it makes your heart ache. How did I get so fucking lucky?
You take a deep breath to calm yourself, then read the line of text at the very bottom of the card.
Hint: Most important meal of day.
You grin at the card, then bound out of bed, course set straight for the kitchen.
***
There’s a plate of food waiting for you when you arrive –chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, fruit, the works.
The kitchen’s empty, but the food’s still hot. There’s no sign of anyone else around, so whoever cooked your breakfast –most likely Piotr, considering he’s not one to make others do extra work for his own ideas—must’ve started cooking at the last possible second, then booked it when they heard you coming down the stairs.
There’s also an envelope next to your plate, addressed to you in Piotr’s handwriting.
You get settled in the dining room –also conspicuously empty—with your plate, then open the envelope.
Myshka,
I think one of ways I am most blessed in our relationship is being able to eat my breakfasts with you. Whether we are talking about the future we want to have or I am taking care of you after a wild night, starting my days with you helps me put myself in proper perspective. Your positivity, resilience, and humor reminds me of what is truly important, and forces me to consider with which mindset I want to handle my day.
I have always said breakfast is most important meal of day, but I do not think that became completely true until I could spend them with you.
Love,
Piotr
You have to take a minute to collect yourself because holy shit Piotr. You feel caught off guard and overwhelmed and so unbelievably loved.
Before you can overthink it, you pick up your phone and dial your boyfriend’s number.
He answers on the second ring. “Privet.”
“You’re not allowed to make me feel soft and vulnerable like this,” you whine, making sure he can hear your smile in your voice. “You can’t just turn me into a puddle of mush with your notes and compliments, Piotr. I have a reputation of being a badass to maintain.”
He chuckles. “My sincerest apologies, moya lyubov’ –thought something tells me you are not actually complaining.”
“Not in the slightest,” you confirm with a grin. “I just… I feel bad because I don’t have anything for you. Definitely not anything like a scavenger hunt.”
“No feeling bad,” he says quickly, albeit gently. “Today is as much for me as it is for you. Trust me, I have had much enjoyment planning all of this.”
“I don’t doubt it, but it doesn’t seem fair.”
“It will be. You will see.”
You sigh. “Well, alright. You’re the world’s greatest boyfriend, you know that?”
“I do not care much for being world’s greatest boyfriend, just yours.”
“Well, you are my world.”
You hear him let out a little breath over the phone, and you know you’ve managed to touch the soft parts of his heart with your words. “Thank you, msyhka. I… I can only hope I am worthy of it.”
“You are,” you say with utter conviction. “There couldn’t be anyone worthier.”
He lets out another little breath, and you can hear his smile in his voice when he speaks again. “Thank you, myshka. Have you eaten breakfast yet?”
“Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“You should eat breakfast. It is—”
“The most important meal of the day, I know,” you finish with a grin. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“And I love you, dorogoy.”
“I’ll see you at the end of the day.”
“Khorosho.”
You hang up, then smile at your phone for a moment before setting it down so you can start in on your pancakes and consider the next hint for your scavenger hunt.
Hint: I could not hide anything from you.
This one’s a little more cryptic than the last one. You furrow your brow as you munch away at your pancakes, trying to think of what Piotr might possibly hide from you.
The trouble is, of course, that Piotr’s never hidden anything from you. Everything about him and who he is stems from his trustworthiness and honesty; his teaching, his role as a mentor, his art, his identity—
A lightbulb goes off in your head and you grin like a maniac. Of course. You chuckle to yourself, satisfied, and set the card down so you can finish eating.
You know exactly where you need to go next.
***
As soon as you finish eating, you head to the library –and sure enough, there’s an envelope addressed to you waiting for you on one of the tables.
Actually, it’s on the same exact table Piotr had been sitting at when you saw him out of defense mode for the first time.
You have to take a moment to smile and appreciate his attention to detail before you rip the envelope open.
Myshka,
At risk of sounding sappy, I think of moment we shared in here often. I had waited so long for you to know how I felt –and to know if you felt anything for me—that receiving any sort of confirmation… it was great relief, to say the least.
I hope you know how much I cherish every day I have spent with you –those we have been together and those we have not—and how precious these past years have been to me.
Love,
Piotr
You can’t help but smile at the card and take a moment to sit back in one of the chairs. I’m gonna die from a sweetness overload today, you realize. I’m gonna read one of Piotr’s notes and just keel over from how sweet and kind and thoughtful it all is.
There’s no better way to go, in your opinion.
You take a deep breath, do your best to calm down, then pick up the card again so you can read the hint.
Hint: you may want to get dressed for the day.
It says something about Piotr that he knows you well enough to know you’re still in your pajamas.
You chuckle to yourself and head back to your room.
***
Illyana’s waiting for you, sitting in Piotr’s desk chair when you walk in.
You blink, shocked. “What… how…” You stare at her, synapses short-circuiting as you try to figure out just how she’s here and why she’s not in Russia. “…Hi.”
She smiles. “Hello.” She holds up a white envelope with your name on it. “I was told to give this to you.”
Which is automatically suspicious –not because you think she’s lying, but because Piotr isn’t the type to have other people do his work for him.
And if he has his family here, that means he’s got something big planned.
“Uh, yeah,” you finally say. You gesture with the other cards –you’ve stuck them back in their envelopes for the time being—that you’ve been carrying with you. “He’s been doing that today.”
“That he has.” She stands, hugs you briefly, then hands her envelope to you. “Happy Anniversary.”
You stare after her as she leaves, then close the door before opening the envelope.
Myshka,
One of the things I appreciate most about you is your impish nature.
You stop reading and roll your eyes –while smirking, albeit—because of course he’s bringing that up, of course.
Whether it is goading me into spending more “quality time” with you when lights have gone out, playing in corn mazes, coming up with fun ideas for all to participate in, embracing your inner child, or getting back at Wade, your zest for life and good times never cease to leave me amazed. You help me appreciate the moment instead of worrying about the future (even though it gets me into trouble some times). I will forever appreciate the lessons you have taught me about living life to fullest and appreciating those around you.
Love,
Piotr
You’re misty-eyed; granted you wouldn’t call it “goading” or “getting into trouble,” but you’re genuinely touched by his reflection on your personality and what he appreciates about it –and has learned from it, which is going to take some time for you to wrap your head around.
You press the card against your heart for a moment, silently appreciating your wonderful, sweet mush of a man, before holding it out again so you can look at the next hint.
Hint: Go to the place where it all became official.
You frown. What the hell does that mean?
There’s a lot of places that have “official” meanings to them since you’ve gotten into a relationship with Piotr –hell, since you first came to the Institute.
Okay, think. This is your anniversary. It’s going to be a place where some sort of specific milestone happened.
That, admittedly, does narrow down the field of options –but not by much.
You chew on your lower lip as you mentally wade through various possibilities. Okay, this is Piotr we’re talking about. It’s going to be from his perspective. What goes into making something official, if you’re Piotr?
Your brain immediately jumps to communication. Piotr’s a stickler for good communication; he likes making sure that everyone understands what’s going on, that everyone’s had a chance to give their say in a situation, to express their feelings, to agree or disagree…
Okay, so understanding the situation, giving your say, expressing feelings, agreeing and disagreeing, in the context of our relationship “being official…”
You almost gasp out loud when it hits you.
***
After you get dressed, you head out to the property behind the mansion.
Specifically, to the tree that you and Piotr had sat under, later on the same day that you’d seen him out of defense mode for the first time; it’s the spot where he’d confessed his feelings to you, and it’s the spot where you two agreed to be in a relationship.
Official.
You step around the tree to where the bench still sits –and nearly fall flat on your ass when you see your uncle sitting there.
He grins up at you. “Hey, punk.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” You wrap your arms around him as soon as he stands, then poke him in the ribs when he laughs. “Be nice! I had no idea you were coming! Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s cool,” he says as he lets you go. “Just thought I’d drop by for a quick visit.” He pulls a white envelope with your name on it out of his pocket and hands it to you. “Your guy asked me to give this to you.”
You narrow your eyes at the envelope, then squint up at your uncle. “What the hell is going on?”
“I’m giving you an envelope.”
“No shit. I meant –why? Why are you here? Are you …in on whatever’s going on?”
“Because that’s how it works.” He smirks and ruffles your hair. “Happy Anniversary, punk.”
You stare after him as he strides off towards the house, then sit down on the bench and open the envelope.
Myshka,
I think this is one of my most favorite memories with you. Though I cherish every single memory I have with you, this is one I return to whenever I feel sad or lost. I am not sure if there is good explanation for why. I suppose, to me, knowing my feelings were reciprocated is what started this long and wonderful journey of sharing life with you.
Or, perhaps, reason why I reminisce does not matter. I know I love you, and you love me. That is enough.
Love,
Piotr
You can’t help but smile; the confession under this very tree is one of your favorite memories, too.
Hint: Go back to our bedroom.
You frown. You’ve already been to the bedroom once; it seems weird that you’d backtrack your steps –but, then, you aren’t the one in charge of setting up this scavenger hunt.
You slide the card back into the envelope, jam it into your pocket with the others, and take off across the back lawn.
***
The changes are immediately noticeable as soon as you step over the threshold to yours and Piotr’s bedroom.
First, the bed is made; you’d forgotten to do it after you’d gotten dressed.
Second, your pajamas are in the clothes hamper, instead of on the floor.
Piotr’s been here, you realize. He’s still at the house.
Something about the thought of your boyfriend sneaking around the mansion to avoid being spotted by you and watching you follow his trail of clues makes you smile.
There’s an envelope with your name on it on top of your pillow.
It’s considerably larger than the other ones, almost stuffed to the point of being unable to close.
You open the envelope –which doesn’t take much effort, considering it’s about ready to pop on its own—and withdraw several sheets of paper.
Myshka,
I like to think of our room as our little sanctuary. Sometimes, in a house full of other people, it is easy to feel that you have no privacy, or to feel overwhelmed by everyone else. However, when I step into our room, I feel at home.
You feel the same way.
We have shared so many memories in our room, yes? Your first Halloween (and you telling me you wanted to marry me), taking care of each other when ill, comforting each other from nightmares, even just moving into together; there are so many memories, it is hard to count them all.
Sometimes, when I cannot sleep, I wind up watching you rest while I contemplate our life together until I can rest as well. I do think myself blessed for every moment I get to spend with you, but remembering such nights brings me a unique sense of peace and steadiness.
Granted, not all memories we have here are… pleasant ones. I think it pointless to pretend that our relationship has not come with struggles; every relationship has difficulties, and while memories of fights we had do not bring me joy, I will confess I do not feel any particular shame about them (aside from what my own behavior and actions contributed, of course).
We have had to learn a lot about each other and how to work together –or how to work with each of our family’s… unique circumstances. I know I have –from learning about your uncle (and struggles leading up to that moment), to arguments about responsibilities, to learning to not let my fear control me as it relates to you, or even in moments when you worried nothing would change or you were caught in an internal spiral, I know for certain that my relationship with you would look entirely different if we had not faced those moments together.
Is it wrong of me to say that I do not regret having to face those struggles (aside from what my own behavior contributed)? I would never say they were pleasant, but I know you so much better and deeper from having gone through them –to say nothing of myself; you have challenged me to be better person –whether it relates to myself, my family, you, or others—countless times that I honestly feel that I am better person for having gone through all of it. If had to chose between facing those hardships or never facing them at all… I would still choose to face them, even knowing consequences they bring.
I am more grateful than words can say for knowing you and having known you. I would not be man I am today without you.
All my love,
Piotr
You’re crying –and you’re grateful that you opted to not put on makeup when you got dressed, because it all would’ve been ruined after reading that letter.
You can barely fathom that Piotr is grateful for all the hell the two of you have gone through together; you know he’s not lying to you, that if he says he feels that way, he does, but…
It’s rare enough to find people who stick with you through the good times and the bad, but to find someone who appreciates the bad times and struggles because they were able to learn about you and themselves?
You dial Piotr’s number before you really even realize what you’re doing.
“Privet.”
“You know you’re the single best human on the planet, right?”
He catches on quick to the fact that you’re crying. “Myshka, is everything alright? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just my heart’s in pieces after reading that letter,” you say with a laugh as you try to dry off your cheeks. “I just… I just wanted to let you know that I feel the same way. I wouldn’t trade the struggles we’ve had to go through, either. Some of it sucked, but… it’s worth it. And I feel like I know you a lot better for having gone through all of it, too.”
He goes quiet for a moment, then sucks in a shaky breath that tells you that he’s tearing up, too. “I love you very much, Y/N.”
You sniff and continue the –largely unsuccessful—process of trying to dry your face. “I love you too, Piotr.”
“Are you okay? Do you need me to come see you?”
“I’m alright,” you reassure him, smiling. “I just wanted to let you know how I felt. And to say thank you for sticking with me through everything.”
“You do not need to thank me,” he says, “though I am equally grateful for your staying with me.”
“Quite the impasse, huh.”
He chuckles. “Da. Very.”
You chuckle with him. “Alright, I’m gonna check the hint and figure out where I need to go next.”
“Khorosho. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. I love you, Piotr.”
“I love you, Y/N.”
You hang up after saying good-bye, then reach over to your nightstand for some tissues. You blow your nose, dry your face, then scan the bottom of the last page for the hint.
Hint: Go to the place where future finally started.
You sigh as you stare down at the line of text. What the fuck? Okay, okay, think like Piotr. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Protein bars. Four or five moments. Language, please.
You snicker to yourself, amused, then buckle down on figuring out what the hint means.
The phrase “finally started” seems to imply some sort of beginning –maybe a milestone or goal of sorts—that couldn’t –or wouldn’t—get going for some sort of reason. So, a milestone or goal in your relationship that was a frustratingly long time coming… a location attached to said milestone or goal…
You nearly smack yourself upside the head when it hits you. Of course.
***
Admittedly, you’re not as sure of your guess on this hint as you are the other ones –but this is Piotr you’re dealing with, the antithesis of “pulling a fast one” if ever there was one.
Which is how you find yourself quietly padding through the medical wing at the mansion, counting off the rooms there until you find the right spot –the room where you’d gotten your diagnosis after the whole ordeal of getting hit in the head with Mikhail’s energy burst and recovering the repressed memories.
It’s empty –which is fortunate in multiple senses—save for one very blue, very furry Doctor Hank McCoy.
He looks up at you and smiles when you knock on the doorframe. “Y/N.” He picks up a white envelope with your name on it and holds it out to you. “I’ve been told it’s yours and Colossus’s anniversary.”
“It is,” you say as you accept the envelope. You gesture with your other hand, which is holding all the other envelopes you’ve collected. “He’s been sending me on a scavenger hunt.”
“Well, good luck and happy anniversary.” He pauses at the door as he heads out. “One of the healers will let you know if we need this room.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
You sit on the edge of the bed –there’s not really anywhere else to sit—and rip the envelope open.
Myshka,
It struck me that several points of our relationship have happened in medical wing. Between injuries from missions, other incidents, and aspects of your recovery, we have spent a great deal of time here.
I will admit now that I hope we do not continue this trend in the future.
You snort.
I know diagnosis was long time coming, and that we talked much about what it meant for our future, together and as individuals. However, I hope you know that my end-goal in our relationship has always been your –and, by proxy, our—well-being. I have always truly been happy to be your partner, whatever that looks like, regardless of whether you found diagnosis or not.
You smile softly and press your hand against your heart. I’ve always known, baby.
All that said, I am very happy you were able to find diagnosis –not just for what it means for our future, but for you as well. You are happier and more confident now that you are receiving best treatment, and I love you more every day as I watch you heal and grow into best version of yourself.
I love you and all your versions. Always.
Love,
Piotr
You have to wipe a few tears away from your eyes by the time you’re done reading the card. He’s such a mush. My mush.
It’s borderline staggering to think about how far you’ve come over the past few years. You went from being a kid trapped in their room to being an adult woman in charge of her own life and future –one who kicks a lot of ass, at that. You have friends, a family, colleagues, a job, a partner…
You’ve come a long way; you’ve got a lot to be proud of.
You smile to yourself for a moment, then scan the bottom of the card for the next hint.
Hint: go to gazebo.
You smirk. Well, at least this one’s easier to figure out than the last one.
***
There’s a little white gazebo towards the far reaches of Xavier’s property. It’s a popular spot for teenaged residents to hook up at –and also a spot that you and Piotr have shared a couple picnics at. You know he likes to draw there –there’s some good views of various trees and flowers from the benches in the gazebo—so it’s not surprising that he would’ve tacked it on the list of “places to have Y/N go on during scavenger hunt.”
What is surprising, however, is that Mikhail’s sitting on one of the benches when you walk in.
He greets you with a slight smile and gestures with a white envelope. “I was told to wait here.”
“When did he tell you to wait here?” you ask with a short laugh.
“Earlier than necessary.” Mikhail hands off the card with a rueful chuckle. “I am supposed to say ‘happy anniversary’ also.”
“How many times did he remind you to say it?”
“Seven.”
You make a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Well, I mean, it worked. You didn’t forget.”
Mikhail grunts. “I think I will not forget for next fifty years.”
“Sorry.”
He shrugs. “Could be worse. Anyway, I leave you to it.” He gives you a little wave, then promptly teleports away.
You shake your head –you’re still not used to that—then sit on one of the benches and open the envelope.
Myshka,
I know we have not shared many moments here, but there were two in particular that held enough significance that I felt need to include this spot on your little journey today.
You frown at the card for a minute until the “specific moments” he’s referring to hit you. Shit.
The aftermath of your nasty encounter with Dwight and the aftermath of the incident during the end of year school trip. Not exactly easy things to forget.
I know they are not pleasant memories, but to me they are important because when I was at my lowest moment, you were there to keep me from falling. You helped me find my sense of self and resolution to whatever internal conflict I was feeling; there are no words to describe just how grateful I am for that.
I think the reasons these memories stand out so strong to me is because I know you feel… you feel like do not bring your own merit to our relationship. That all I do is take care of you.
I just want you to know that you help me as much as you say I help you. You have helped and supported me so much in these past years, even if you do not see it. I hope one day you can see yourself how I see you: strong, confident, beautiful woman, with heart whose size is only rivaled by her spirit.
Love,
Piotr
You’re back to feeling overwhelmed and soft and so loved all over again.
You’ll never understand how you got so lucky; you’ve always felt so raw and feral around most of the X-Men, all sharp and rough edges and a little wild behind the eyes. Compared them, you’re a broken heap of junk, battered and fragile from years of abuse and mistreatment.
And then the sweetest, kindest, gentlest, most decent man that ever existed came along and saw a person worth loving instead of a junk heap.
You’re not entirely sure whether that makes you a person worth loving or a junk heap, at the end of all of it. Your self-esteem has improved by miles since arriving at Xavier’s –more so since starting therapy—but there are still days where you can’t look yourself in the mirror for fear of what you might see.
But Piotr is honest, in words and actions. If he refuses to put faith in a person –or even consider putting faith in a person—then that person has to be the most despicable, unredeemable piece of shit to have ever walked the face of the earth.
And if he loves you…
You have to step back from that train of thought before you get too overwhelmed and focus instead on what the next hint says.
Hint: go to chair outside Alyssa’s office.
You frown. It’s not hard to see why he would include a location in reference to your being in therapy; it’s been integral to your recovery –to say nothing of your relationship with Piotr—but he’s always so conscientious about keeping the boundaries between therapist and patient clear. You can’t imagine that he would ask Alyssa to hold onto an envelope for you…
Well, except the hint says the chair outside her office. Not Alyssa herself.
You get up off the bench with a grunt and head towards the house.
***
There’s no envelope propped in the chair when you reach the area where the handful of counselors’ offices are housed.
For a moment, you panic that someone’s taken it –but Piotr’s more careful than that. He would’ve considered that this area of the mansion is open to multiple residents, and that placing a random envelope on the chair would leave it liable to be taken or get lost.
You slide your hands between the frame of the chair and the cushion, then underneath the cushion itself.
Nothing.
You frown. Where the hell is it? Did someone pick it up for me? Or throw it away?
You’re half-tempted to call him and ask him where he put it, but the stubborn part of you wants to figure this out all by yourself.
Okay, Y/N, think. If I were Piotr, and I was trying to leave a note where only one person would find it in an open space, where would I put it?
There’s not an obvious answer. Piotr is the antithesis of being secretive; even when he’s trying to surprise you, it’s still pretty easy to get at what he’s doing most of the time.
Okay, you tell yourself. His mom is in the mafia, formerly an assassin. Some of that has to have rubbed off on him –least of all knowing how to hide something.
But that doesn’t yield any fruitful answers either. The inner workings of an assassin are ultimately a mystery to you –intriguing, but not something you can identify with.
You almost give up before it hits you. I’m thinking about this the wrong way.
Today is about your relationship with him. If Piotr’s hiding something for you to find, then he’ll have hidden it in a place he knows you’ll look.
Okay. If I was going to hide a letter on a chair, where would I put it?
That’s an easy answer: you’d tape it to the underside of the chair.
You crouch down on all fours and peer under the chair –and, sure enough, there’s a white envelope with your name on it taped to the underside of the seat.
You pry it free, then retreat down the hall from the counseling offices until you feel like you’re a respectable enough distance from the space to read the next note.
Myshka,
I did not want to make it through today without mentioning your journey with therapy. I know it was scary for you at first, and watching you grow more comfortable with it and face down your problems leaves me so proud and inspired every day.
I also appreciate when you bring the knowledge you learn from your sessions into our relationship. I enjoy learning from you, and being able to grow with you is greatest privilege.
Love,
Piotr
You smile and sigh happily, feeling warm and loved from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You text Piotr a slew of heart emojis –and grin when he texts several back to you—before moving on to the next hint.
Hint: we got busted here.
Why can’t they all be “go to this place?” you ponder as you puzzle over the cryptic line of text. Why do I keep having to work for everything?
Truly, life’s greatest mystery.
Well, fortunately, there’s some strict limits to what “busted” could be. Piotr’s pretty strict about following the rules, and since it says “we,” that means you both crossed some sort of line.
You flip through your mental rolodex of times you managed to convince Piotr to break some sort of rule. What could it be?
You outright guffaw when it hits you, then take off for the jet hangar.
***
It takes a couple tries –the X-Men have more than one jet, because apparently Charles has untold troves of wealth—but eventually you find an envelope addressed to you in one of the cockpit seats.
You smirk and take a moment to savor the memory –the one time you’d managed to convince Piotr to fuck you on a flight back from a mission—before opening the envelope.
Myshka,
I admit I still do not understand your desire to have sex in public spaces –though it does keep you quiet, so perhaps there is some benefit after all.
Your jaw drops. You have to reread the first line twice to be sure of what you’ve just read, then let out a shocked laugh as you dig your phone out of your pocket. “You little shit,” you say when Piotr picks up. “I’m sitting in the X-Jet –Piotr, you’re such a little shit—”
He bursts out laughing on the other end of the line, evidently immensely pleased with himself. “I mean, I am not wrong.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re so fucking clever,” you continue, grinning broadly. “I am gonna get you back so hard. You have no idea. You’re in for it, buster.”
He chuckles. “Have you read rest of note yet?”
“No. I was too shocked by your opening. I had to call you.”
“Evidently.”
You can practically hear the smug smile in his voice; you roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Vengeance is coming, Piotr. I will find a way to get you back.”
“Of that, I am certain.” He chuckles again. “I love you, myshka.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“I do not doubt it.”
You say good-bye, then hang up and finish reading the note.
Obviously, there is more to our relationship than intimacy –nor do I think intimacy as most important thing. However, I do appreciate intimacy I have with you. Aside from obvious payoffs, I appreciate the trust you place in me. I believe there is something inherently vulnerable in sex, and the fact that you are willing to share that vulnerability with me says I am doing something right, in my mind.
Even if you want to be vulnerable in… strange places.
Love,
Piotr
You can’t help but roll your eyes, but it is sweet. You do feel touched. “Honestly, it’s not that weird, Piotr. You’re the weird one.”
Whatever. He’s the weird one. Not you.
Hint: We celebrated an anniversary and Valentine’s Day here, and planned our first date here.
You grin, then dart out of the jet and in the direction of Piotr’s art studio.
***
It’s not something you say often, but you love Piotr’s art studio. It’s quiet, it’s calm, and it’s so full of color and light and life that it’s impossible to not love.
But it’s more than that. Anyone who knows Piotr would know that his art studio is almost a direct look inside his brain. The way he organizes his pencils by hardness, color family, and purpose in little jars on the bookshelf next to his easel. The way he keeps his paints similarly stored, but in a drawer so they don’t get overexposed to heat. The way he keeps a few miscellaneous pencils and pens in a jar directly next to his easel, always within reach if he needs to start a new project.
Attention to detail. Making sure the space is functional, both for him and for the needs of his equipment.
It’s how he keeps his favorite, final pieces hung on the walls in perfect rows, right next to the pictures his students have drawn for him. How his regular desk is veritably stained with different colors and nearly overflows with supplies –they’re all organized, it’s more of a quantity thing—because he uses an angled desk for all his serious drawing so he doesn’t strain his back or arm.
He’s meticulous, yes, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that he’s truly passionate about his art.
It’s the fact that he has three wastebaskets for the room –one right next to his drawing desk, for pencil shavings or scrapped concepts, one next to the regular desk for random trash, and a larger one tucked in the corner for paint rags and drop cloths that need to be washed.
He’s practical –and a little anal at times, if you’re being honest.
You love him so much.
Ellie, Russell, and Yukio are all waiting for you in the art studio when you walk in. Ellie has a white envelope, Yukio has your purse, and Russell’s playing some sort of game on his phone for the two girls to watch while they wait for you.
Yukio beams as soon as you walk through the door. “Happy Anniversary!”
“Thanks.” You nod at your purse with a grin. “I take it I’m gonna be needing that?”
“Yup,” Russell confirms, popping the ‘p’ as he stows his phone away. “It’s already got everything you need.”
“Thanks, guys. I don’t suppose you know what’s going on at the end of the scavenger hunt?”
The three of them exchange a look, then all attempt to smother smiles with varying degrees of success –or lack thereof.
Ellie does the best job at it, unsurprisingly. She just stands and hands you the note. “Obviously.”
“Figured as much. I guess you’re not gonna tell me.”
“Nope.” She latches onto Yukio’s hand once her bubbly counterpart passes off your purse and heads out the door. “Happy Anniversary.”
“Happy Anniversary,” Russell chimes in, closing the door behind him.
You huff out a little laugh and shake your head, then sit down in the armchair Piotr keeps in his studio before tearing the envelope open.
Myshka,
This studio has seen many important memories; I think among my favorites are celebrating our anniversary here (the effort you went to still amazes me to this day), making costumes for your first Halloween, and planning our first date here.
It is not something I ever mentioned, but I was deeply excited to take you on our first date. I had known by then that I loved you deeply, so much so that it was difficult to take things slow –not that it was any hardship to me. I knew even before we got together that you would need time to heal and come into your own, and every single minute it has taken has been worth it to know you are happier and healthier.
What I mean to say is that I knew from beginning that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I knew from that date that there would never be anyone who compared to you or made me feel the way you did. Every single day with you is precious to me, more than you could ever know.
Happy Anniversary, my love. May we have many more.
Love,
Piotr
You sigh deeply and smile at the note, then dig your phone out of your pocket.
You: Every day with you is precious to me, too. I hope we have many more anniversaries in the years to come.
Babe: <3
You pocket your phone again, then flop back in the chair.
You wish that he would spend the day with you. This is your anniversary after all, and it only seems fitting that any activities or celebrations should include the two of you.
But he did say that he’d see you at the end of the day. And you know he’s still at the mansion –or that he’s been popping out for stuff and coming back.
You check your purse on a whim.
Your sunglasses are tucked inside, as is your wallet, chapstick, a little pack of tissues… and your car keys.
You check the bottom of the card for the next hint.
Hint: go to car.
You’re leaving the house, then, which implies that he needs you out and very distracted for a while; he’s definitely planning something big.
He brought his family and my uncle in, you think, chewing on your lower lip. He’s getting me out of the house. It’s our anniversary. Is he…
You tamp down the hope brewing in your chest before it can manifest into a full thought. You don’t want to start obsessing over anything, especially if it turns out your guessed wrong.
But it could…
You tuck the thought away before it can go anywhere, instead focusing on tucking all the envelopes into your purse. You extract your car keys and sunglasses –in hindsight, you should’ve done that before you put the envelopes in there—then head out to the garage.
***
Sure enough, there’s an envelope waiting for you in the driver’s seat of your car –you almost sit on it by accident, but that’s neither here nor there.
Myshka,
I know we have not had many opportunities to travel together, but you are my favorite co-pilot.
Unless you drink Red Bull.
You really should not drink Red Bull. It is not healthy. It does not even taste good.
Love,
Piotr
Hint: Last stop on our first date.
Well, that’s plenty easy to figure out.
You make to the put the card and envelope in the purse with the others, but stop when you notice a tiny note on the other side of the envelope.
First date, car.
You blink. What the… oh.
It’s a reminder, a little note to help him remember what the hint was about and where the card needed to be placed.
It’s definitely very Piotr, because you would’ve forgotten to do anything like that if you’d been in charge of all this.
You snort and shake your head, then stick your key in the car’s ignition. Alright, I’ll need to fuel up—
Except your gas tank is already full –and your oil’s been changed, which you’ve been meaning to do for… well, you’ve been meaning to do it.
You: Did you fill up my tank?
You: And change my oil?
Babe: Oil light was on for seven months. It needed to be done.
You grin; he’s just the sweetest.
You: <3 Aw thanks
Babe: Of course. <3
You: Wait did I really forget for that long?
Babe: Yes.
You wince. You could’ve sworn the oil light only came on… maybe a few weeks ago?
You: Shit.
You consider leaving it there, but you can’t resist the opportunity to rib him a little bit.
You: Also, vegetables don’t taste good either.
You: Just saying.
You grin when he sends back a laughing-face emoji, then put your phone back in your purse and drive out of the garage.
***
The little spot –technically it’s just the historical part of a larger city, renovated and restored to be a tourist spot—that Piotr took you to for your first date has been a frequent fixture of your dates since then. It’s quiet, it’s beautiful, and there’s plenty do to there regardless of the time of year.
You stroll through the park that leads into the area with all the shops, admiring the greening trees and scads of flowers. It’s still the bare beginning of summer, meaning that everything’s still growing and coming back to life –and that it isn’t unbearably hot, which is always a win.
You do make a beeline towards the chocolate shop Piotr had taken you to at the end of your first date once you reach the street, though. It’s almost noon, you’re hungry, and chocolate strawberries sound like the perfect pick-me-up. You’re a woman on a mission, and nothing is going to stop you—
Except Neena is waiting for you outside the shop, eating chocolate covered cherries out of a paper bag and looking cooler than everyone else in a two-mile radius.
Which, admittedly, is worth at least pausing for.
She grins when you walk up to her and pulls you into a hug. “Hey! Happy Anniversary!”
“Thank you! And hey yourself!” You raise an eyebrow at her when you step back. “I’m guessing you have an envelope for me?”
“Yup!” She pulls an envelope out of her purse and hands it to you. “Have you been enjoying the scavenger hunt so far?”
“I have!” You smile softly as you run your fingers along the top edge of the envelope. “It’s kind of like taking a walk down our relationship’s memory lane.”
“That’s awesome.” She pops another chocolate covered cherry into her mouth, then straightens up and stretches. “Well, I need to get on the road. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Alright.” You exchange hugs once more, then watch her go, replaying her words over in your head.
“I’ll see you later, okay?”
Which seems to imply that Neena might be around at the end of the scavenger hunt, whatever that is. And that, combined with the fact that your uncle and his family is here…
Your stomach growls, jolting you from your reverie. Right. Food. Specifically chocolate covered strawberries.
Piotr texts you after you’ve made your purchase and are on your way out of the shop.
Babe: Do not just eat chocolate for meal.
You snort –but you can’t pretend to be offended, considering that had been your whole plan.
You: Fine.
You: But only for you.
Babe: <3
You swing by the sandwich shop that he’d taken you to for your first date; you get a sandwich and a drink to go, then walk back through the park.
And then you see the bench the two of you had sat on after stopping at the chocolate shop, and –well—it just seems too perfect.
You send a picture of your sandwich to Piotr.
You: Proof that I got real food.
You: Also I’m sitting on the bench we sat on at the end of our first date. :)
You: I just wish you were here with me.
Babe: I am very happy you have real food.
Babe: I wish I was with you also.
Babe: We will see each other later. I promise.
You tuck your phone back in your purse, then tuck into your sandwich.
It’s a little weird being out of the house without Piotr –or someone else, at least. Given your track record for getting kidnapped –not that it was your prerogative to get kidnapped—or into general trouble, you rarely leave Xavier’s; if you do, it’s always with someone, if only to make sure you aren’t being stalked or aren’t in danger.
But this is an area Piotr knows well; it’s as safe a place for you to be as anywhere else, all things considered.
That, and he probably figured you would’ve been pissed off if he’d assigned you a babysitter for the day.
Which, admittedly, you would’ve been.
Besides, there isn’t even a modicum of suspicious activity in the park today. Kids are playing on the playground, parents are watching from nearby, the odd jogger or dog walker are strolling along the walking paths. It’s completely normal.
You’re also sitting at a highly visible point that isn’t easy to sneak up on, and have the ferocity of the average badger. That, and I can just stomp anyone who tries to mess with me. No way in hell I’m getting kidnapped on my anniversary. No way, no how, no doing.
You take a deep breath and focus on your environment for a moment to bring yourself back to the present. You’re safe, and you’ve done everything you need to do to stay safe. No need to obsess on it to the point of freaking yourself out.
You tie into the strawberries once you finish your sandwich –Piotr’s habit of “saving treats for later” still hasn’t rubbed off on you—then wipe your hands on a napkin when you’re all said and done before opening the envelope.
Myshka,
It goes without saying, but I truly enjoy our date time. Whether we are going out to for day or staying in to watch movies, any time I can spend with you is wonderful.
I truly value your companionship. You make my days brighter, regardless of what happens. I am looking forward to spending many bright days with you in years to come.
Love,
Piotr
You smile down at the card –despite the fact that the passersby probably think you look a little nuts—and sigh happily.
You love him. You love him so much it hurts.
Hint: You were impressed when I took you here for dinner.
You chuckle to yourself and toss your lunch trash in a nearby trashcan before heading to your car. Yes, darling, I was very impressed.
***
The drive out to Grant’s restaurant takes a decent chunk of time; it’s mid-afternoon by the time you arrive, and you haven’t managed to figure out who you’re supposed to meet between leaving the place where you’d gone on your first ever date and arriving at the restaurant.
You know Grant is an old friend of Piotr’s, and it makes sense that he might want his friend involved in today in some way, shape, or form; you, however, don’t know Grant all that well. Everyone that you’ve gotten envelopes from today have been people you’ve known for a long time or Piotr’s direct family.
That, and you can’t see Piotr asking Grant to help while the restaurant was open. Your boyfriend’s courteous to a fault at times, and you know he wouldn’t want to throw a wrench into Grant’s workday –especially if something went wrong or you got caught in traffic.
You suppose it might be possible that Piotr would leave the envelope with a hostess, but that seems to contradict the whole “using people we both know” things—
And then Nikolai and Alexandra get out of their car the same time you get out of yours, which completely answers any questions about what the fuck you’re supposed to be doing right now.
“Hi!” You exchange hugs with Alex, then Nikolai. “I didn’t realize you two were in town as well!”
“Surprise visit,” Nikolai says with a smile. “We were told to keep secret.”
You raise an eyebrow; that only confirms that your boyfriend is up to something, and that he’s got some sort of surprise waiting for you when you finally head back home, whenever that is. “Do you two know what’s going on?”
“Of course,” Alex says with a grin. “Medvezhonok sent us here for lunch date.”
You can’t help but smile. Sweet and thoughtful in everything he does.
“Oh.” She withdraws an envelope from her purse. “And to give you this.”
“Yeah.” You open your own purse and show off your growing collection. “I’ve been getting several of those today. Am I close to the end of the hunt?”
Alexandra smirks and shrugs, while Nikolai makes a bigger show of not knowing the answer.
“Alright. I get it. That’s for you to know and for me to find out.”
Alexandra chuckles. “Basically.”
“Well, I hope you have a good lunch date. The food here is amazing –oh, and Piotr did the artwork here for his friend. You’ll be able to see it in the dining room.”
Both of the Rasputin parents express their delight over the new knowledge before exchanging hugs and goodbyes with you and heading inside.
You opt to head back to your car and open the envelope as you plop down into the driver’s seat.
Myshka,
I admit that it took me time to adjust to your not liking being spoiled –at least, not with overly grand gestures. Perhaps I am dated, but I do believe that it is man’s duty to spoil woman he loves. Which, of course, is not to say that women cannot spoil their partners, or that gestures of affection should not be mutual effort. However, after watching my father love and take care of my mother growing up, I knew that his behavior –generosity, romantic, unabashed kindness—was something I wanted to emulate; I like to think it has not led me wrong.
And though I am sensible –as you so often call me—I do like charm and romance of grand gestures. I enjoy planning and anticipation that goes into such things. I enjoy watching your face light up when you realize what I’ve done. I am happy to tailor my ideas to your comfort and preferences, but I do appreciate when you let me “pull out all stops,” as it were.
At any rate, I hope you will not spend today worrying over whether you have done enough for me. My pleasure today truly comes from watching you be happy… and possibly later, if I know you as well as I think I do.
Love,
Piotr
You snort and pull your phone out of your purse.
You: You’re definitely right about later. ;)
Piotr: I will keep that in mind. ;)
You chuckle and shake your head as you put your phone away, then sit back in the driver’s seat to think for a minute.
He’s right that you’re not one for grand gestures. There’s something about over-the-top dates or lavish gesture that just… make you feel like collapsing in on yourself until you disappear from view.
Well, that’s not completely right. You don’t mind doting on Piotr. It’s being doted on that makes you feel uneasy.
If you were to guess, you would say that a lifetime of feeling like you weren’t worth anything and always feeling subpar in the eyes of everyone probably damaged your self-esteem to the point where any sort of gesture –romantic or otherwise—made you feel uneasy and unworthy, and that the grander the gesture, the more you feel convinced that the person doing it will realize that you’re not worth it and abandon you, and… ah, shit.
You take a deep breath and make a note on your phone to talk to Alyssa about it in your session, then do some meditation to calm yourself down. Existential revelations can wait, dammit; today is your day to be happy.
You open your eyes once you’re feeling calm and positive again, then check the card for the next hint.
Hint: Not best day we had, but I still appreciated my time with you here.
You frown and start racking your brain. Does he mean personal? Did we go on a date that ended badly?
That’s what makes the most sense, considering that the scavenger hunt clues have all tied into your relationship or locations that feature heavily in your relationship –but you and Piotr haven’t really had any bad dates. The only one that stands out is…
Is the movie date where you were both kidnapped and taken to Dwight’s lair.
It’s possible, but something doesn’t feel right about it. You know that event was deeply, deeply scarring for Piotr. You seriously doubt that he’d take you back to the theatre where you were both taken; that, and the card said “day,” which implies that the bad event was limited to a single day. The two of you had been in Dwight’s clutches longer than that, which would further rule it out.
You spend several minutes racking for your brain, but the movie-date-turned-kidnapping is the only bad date you can think of. You can’t even remember a date where the two of you had a fight or an argument; you tend to keep things contained to the mansion, specifically your shared bedroom so you don’t upset any of the other residents. Any time the two of you get to spend alone together is sacrosanct, and you’re both careful to keep it that way.
When you don’t come up with something after a few more minutes of fruitless pondering, you give in and call Piotr.
“Privet.”
“Babe, I can’t figure out the most recent clue. I’m trying to think of any bad dates we’ve had, but all I can think of is the movie date where we got kidnapped by Dwight’s goons?” you explain. “Am I forgetting another really bad date we went on, or is that what you meant?”
“Nyet, nyet, nyet,” Piotr exclaims quickly –which was the response you expected. “Absolutely not. No, I meant beach. Where we took kids, and residents disliked my being Russian.”
“Oh! Duh.” You can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
“I think it was hint. I worded it poorly. I was considering making it ‘you dropped me in water here,’ but I was not sure if you knew what I meant…”
“No, I would’ve guessed that right away,” you say when his voice trails off, grinning impishly. “I can remember all the times I punked you, big guy.”
“Impressive, considering you do it so often.”
You cackle. “Hey! I’m not that bad!
“Konechno net. You are model resident.”
“Exactly. I never break the rules.”
“…”
“I don’t hear you agreeing, baby.”
“Lying is unethical, myshka.”
You laugh along with him. “Very funny.”
“I try.”
“And you succeed.” You stretch your back, then jam the envelope and card in your purse along with the others. “Alright, I’m gonna get going. I love you, Piotr.”
“And I love you, Y/N.”
You hang up, then start your car and pull out of the parking lot outside Grant’s restaurant.
You’ve got a lot of driving ahead of you.
***
You reach the beach a couple hours later –you have to stop and refuel along the way, which adds a little time to your trip.
You inhale deeply as you step out of the car. The smell of salt in the air is strong, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore is deeply soothing.
You take a minute to lean against the hood of your car, enjoying the breeze and the scenery. So far, everyone you’ve need to meet up with has found you or been in plain sight. You can afford to take a minute to relax and stretch your legs.
And sure, enough, you don’t have to wait long to figure out who you need to talk to next. Before you can start to wonder if you should get up and look around, you spot Wade and Nate strolling along the beach, hand in hand.
You grin, hop of the hood of your car, and traipse across the sand so you can greet them. “Hey, guys!”
Wade pulls you into a massive hug. “‘Hey’ yourself, crackerjack!”
Nate hugs you from the side once Wade sets you down. “How’re you doing, kid?”
“Really good. It’s been a fun day.”
Wade waggles his nonexistent eyebrows at you. “And it’ll be more fun once you and Metallica are finally alone together.”
“Yeah, well, that’s for me and me alone to know, dorkus.”
“Gasp!” Wade presses his hand against his chest, feigning offense. “See if I give you the next step in your scavenger hunt now!”
You laugh and roll your eyes. “You do realize I could just take it from you, right? I’ve won nearly every fight we’ve ever gotten in.”
“Prepare to get your ass kicked, little sis.” He pulls a white envelope out of his hoodie pocket and holds it above your head. “Boom! Whatcha gonna do now!”
You give him a flat look, then hover up until you’re at eye level with his hand and pluck the envelope from his fingers.
“Dammit! Forgot about that!”
Nathan just chuckles. “It was a good try, handsome.”
“Define ‘good,’” you tease as you drop lightly onto the sand.
“Fine! See if I share my Gushers with you from now on!”
“I take everything back.”
Nathan shakes his head and smirks. “You’re both insane.”
“And?” You and Wade ask simultaneously.
“You’re dating me,” Wade adds. “And you basically adopted her.”
“Pretty sure that makes you the crazy one,” you agree with a nod.
“Whatever.” Nate latches onto Wade’s hand and squeezes gently. “We ought to head out.”
“Yup,” Wade concurs, popping the ‘p.’ “We’ll let you read your little love note in private; we’ll see you back at the mansion.”
“See you there.” You make your good-byes, then watch them walk towards the parking lot next to the beach, contemplating where to read your latest note at.
You could always sit in your car again, like you did at Grant’s restaurant, but… it is a really gorgeous day out…
You spy a picnic bench a few yards away and decide to sit there so you can better enjoy the sun, sand, and surf. Once you’re comfortably seated, you open the envelope and start reading the card inside.
Myshka,
During years I have known you, I have come to appreciate you in many ways –especially your ferocious love for those you care deeply for.
Perhaps it is because I am more passive, but your tenacity and protectiveness astounds me. I so often worry over offending others or taking wrong steps in confrontation that I forgo it altogether –which, as you have seen, does not always result well. You are so unbelievably brave and bold, and I admire you so much for it.
I hope that, as we go through life together, I can learn from you how to be braver and bolder myself.
Love,
Piotr
You can’t help but smile –part soft and part shocked—and lower the card so you can process everything you’re feeling.
It’s difficult to wrap your head around, to say the least. You’ve never felt particularly brave –bold, yes, but that doesn’t always put things in your favor. At any rate, there’s a lot that still scares you. You still have regular nightmares about your childhood, and while your anxiety is better, it’s still a daily struggle you have to work through. “Brave” is far from the first word you would use to describe yourself.
But, then, you’d probably default to words like “dumbass,” or “dork,” so maybe your opinion isn’t the end all, be all in this situation.
And, just maybe, there’s some truth in that. The perception and opinion of self is important, sure, but maybe there are times where you aren’t the best authority on your defining features. After all, how long have you called yourself “worthless,” and yet Piotr can see so many amazing qualities in you?
Piotr, whose honesty is one of his most defining qualities. Piotr, who invests in everyone around him and works to help them find the best in themselves. Piotr, who loves you and adores you despite your flaws.
Maybe… maybe you’re not as bad or “worthless” or “monstrous” as you think you are –as you’ve been told you are.
You sigh as you reflect on how far you’ve come and how hard you’ve worked to improve. I don’t know about brave… but I’ve made it through a lot. You smile to yourself. I guess I’m pretty tough, at least.
Tough’s good. Tough means endurance, and you’ve definitely got that in spades.
You let out a quiet, giddy laugh, then lift the card so you can read the hint.
Hint: Come back home.
Excitement sparks in your gut, and you tap out a quick message to Piotr letting him know you’re coming home before springing up and running to your car (well, as much as you can run on sand).
It’s time to see what your darling boyfriend’s been up to.
***
It’s mid-evening when you pull into the gravel drive outside the mansion –and you’re immediately greeted by all the students, Ellie, Russell, and Yukio included.
You park your car a couple yards away from them. “Hey, guys,” you say as you step out. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Colossus said to take you to the back yard,” Timothy says, grinning excitedly.
“You have to close your eyes though,” Kitty adds, lips stretched into a similarly enthralled grin.
You raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And you all are gonna help me get to the back?” You chuckle when you get a chorus of “yeahs,” then close your eyes and hold out your hands. “Okay. Just don’t run me into anything.”
Several little hands latch onto your arms, and then you’re being half-guided, half-led away from the driveway and –presumably—towards the back of the Institute. Most of the kids are shorter than you and don’t understand anything about “walking calmly,” so it’s a little jerky and stuttered, but eventually you come to a stop.
“Can I open my eyes now?” you ask.
“Yup,” Ellie says. “Go ahead.”
You open your eyes –and immediately gasp out loud. “Oh my gosh!”
The backyard directly behind the house has been completely transformed –you almost don’t recognize it.
There are tables draped with soft white tablecloths, lined with white folding chairs –the nice kind that you’ve seen at expensive, catered events—and decorated with vases of small, pink flowers off to the side.
Twinkling fairy lights are strung everywhere; someone –several people, actually, there’s no way one person could’ve done all this—has put up delicate metal trellises and draped the lights over them, thus casting the space in a soft, almost aethereal glow.
Everyone’s here, too. The students, the teachers and staff, your uncle and found family, Piotr’s family, the other residents. There’ll all standing or sitting at the edges of the lit space, smiling at you as you take in all the changes.
And, at the other end of the space –a little further back so it doesn’t pick up glare from the fairy lights—is a projection screen.
“Here.” Ellie takes you by the elbow and moves you so you can see the screen better. “Stand here.”
“What on Earth is going on?” you ask, whipping your head around as a few people chuckle. “Where’s Piotr?”
Ellie just nods at the screen. “Watch.”
You turn your head back to the screen as it lights up. Soft guitar music players from speakers set up somewhere, not that you can find them—
And then a picture of you and Piotr flits onto the screen –specifically, one of the two you dressed as Persephone and Hades for Halloween.
Your face splits into a giant grin.
A slide show starts, slowly flipping from picture to picture, charting the course of your relationship.
There’s one from the first time you’d ever carved pumpkins; someone had managed to get a shot of Piotr watching you with an adorable, lovestruck expression on his face.
Another from your first Christmas season away from home –it’s of the two of you making snowmen together.
You grin when one of the pictures Wade had taken of the two of you kissing under mistletoe pops up; it’s still one of your favorite pictures of all time.
There’s a selfie Piotr had taken of the two of you early in the morning where you’re kissing his cheek –and one at the end of your first stay with him at his art retreat house where you can see a hickey peeking over the collar of your shirt, and oops that’s kind of scandalous.
The slideshow is as much of a walk down memory lane as the scavenger hunt; each picture brings crystal clear, golden-hued memories to your mind’s eye, dragging you further and further into a sea of lovestruck nostalgia.
You’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
The slideshow also shows the extent of Piotr’s picture taking prerogative –obsession, whatever. There’s at least a hundred pictures, from the incredibly mundane –the two of you in your pajama, eating bowls of cereal—to the more elaborate –a more staged ‘end of the year’ picture that you’d both dressed up and posed for.
You cackle with everyone else when the picture Wade had taken of the two of you “doing” Seven Minutes in Heaven shows on the screen. Oh, no way in hell Piotr put that in there. Holy shit.
The slideshow ends with the last picture Aiden had taken of you and Piotr kissing –the one where he’d been completely armored down and had cupped your face with his hands.
You smile happily as you wipe away a few tears from the corners of your eyes. You’re beyond speechless, even as the screen goes dark; you can’t remember the last time anyone did anything this nice or elaborate for you, even for something as important as an anniversary.
A large hand settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Privet, myshka.”
You whirl around and immediately pull your boyfriend down into a passionate kiss.
His hand comes up the back of your head, while his arm wraps around your back –he’s got something in his other hand, not that you can be bothered to care right now—effectively holding you to him.
You can’t remember the last time a kiss has felt this good –which isn’t to say that all the other kisses you’ve had with him have been bad. But between the anticipation of wanting to see him all day, the excitement of not knowing what’s going on, and the emotional journey of the scavenger hunt and the slideshow… you’re in a state, to say the least.
Piotr, fortunately, picks up on your extra emotional –and hormonal—state and breaks the kiss before you can start wholesale undressing him in front of everyone. He strokes the swell of your cheeks with his thumb, smiling broadly, then pulls his arm away from your back. “These are for you.”
You gasp at the sight of the massive –and it really is, holy shit how much did he spend on these—bouquet of roses he’s holding out to you. You have to sling your purse strap over your shoulder so you can hold all of them properly. “Piotr –what—”
“Happy Anniversary, moya lyubov’.” He helps you get the flowers settled in the crook of your right arm, then kisses your temple gently. “Have you had good day?”
“Yes. Oh my goodness, it’s been amazing. How did you do all of this?”
“Much planning.” He smiles, clearly pleased with himself and the situation. “Did you enjoy scavenger hunt?”
“I loved it, Piotr. It –this is all so amazing. I don’t deserve all of this –I don’t even have a present for you—”
He shushes you gently, wiping a stray tear off your cheek. “Tische, myshka. I told you today was about you. That I would get my joy later.”
“Okay, but—” Your brain starts processing again, and you finally realize that he’s dressed up in a suit.
A nice suit. Crisp, perfectly tailored (which isn’t easy, considering that he is Large), and black, with a white button-down shirt and a blue and purple tie that makes his eyes pop.
You sputter –your brain’s working, but your mouth isn’t, evidently. “W -why are you wearing—” you gesture haphazardly at him with your free hand “—why are you wearing a suit? Why does the backyard look like this? What’s even going on?”
He grins, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Happy Anniversary, myshka.”
And then he pulls a black velvet box out of an inner jacket pocket and gets down on one knee.
You gasp and clap your free hand over your mouth.
“Y/N L/N,” Piotr says, voice shaking a little but undeniably overjoyed and excited. “I have waited for so long to have opportunity to do this –and it has been worth every single minute. You are beautiful, intelligent, funny, kind, and you own my whole heart. I knew from moment that I told you I loved you that I wanted to spend my life with you. I knew that this journey would be difficult, and we might never reach this point—” he stops to take a breath and lets out an excited giggle “—but here we are. I love you. Will you please be my wife?”
You’re crying. You never thought you’d cry when Piotr proposed –several years ago you never even thought you’d be getting proposed to—but you’re definitely crying now.
You love him. You love him so much. He’s the universe’s gift to you, a reparation for everything you’ve had to suffer through to get to this point.
There couldn’t have possibly been a better gift, which is why there’s only one possible answer to his question.
“Yes,” you eke out amidst a steady trickle of tears and nervous-energy laughter. “Yes!”
Piotr’s eyes light up while everyone else cheers. He stands, pulling you into a hug and kissing you like you’ve given him the most precious thing in the world.
Which, you suppose makes sense, considering he’s just done the same for you.
He breaks the kiss again –though it takes him longer than before, which you count as a win—then delicately plucks the ring out of the box and slides it down your left ring finger, and—
It’s gorgeous. A sparkling solitaire diamond on a gold band. Big enough to look nice, but not so big that you won’t be able to get your flight gloves over it. It’s clear he put a lot of thought in making sure it would integrate well into your life and mesh with your tastes.
You kiss him again. And again. And again. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
This is your forever.
***
There’s a party afterwards with everyone at the mansion –catered by Grant, no less.
“My second-in-command’s got it,” he says when you ask him about his restaurant. “We do catering gigs all the time, we’ve got it figured out. Besides—” he nudges Piotr in the side “—I couldn’t say no to this one.”
Aiden and his team are present as well; apparently, they were taking pictures of you during the slideshow, then of you and Piotr during the actual proposal. Not that you noticed –though you did have a good reason to be distracted, in your defense.
They keep taking pictures throughout the evening –between rounds of helping themselves to the food at Piotr’s instruction, since “it is dinnertime; not good to skip meals.”
You get hugs and-slash-or congratulations from everyone –including Scott, which is proof positive that he can, in fact, act like a decent fucking human being every now and then.
Wade hugs you so hard that your ribs hurt. “Oh my Francis! This is even better than three mini-lion robots coming together to former a super lion robot.”
You laugh as he sets you back down. “Damn. That’s a pretty high standard to meet.”
Nate’s far more gentle. “Congratulations, kid. You two are great together.”
“Well, I certainly hope so.” You raise an eyebrow about him. “How long did you know about this for?”
Nathan smiles and shrugs. “A while. He asked for my permission, so I had a pretty decent head’s up.”
Something warm and tender settles in your chest, and you have to clear your throat a couple times before you speak again. “Does that mean you’re walking me down the aisle?”
His smile softens further and he nods. “I’d be honored.”
Piotr’s family is similarly excited. They flock around the two of you, overjoyed and more than a bit emotional—
Well, three out of four of them are overjoyed and more than a bit emotional. Mikhail’s default setting in any emotional setting seems to be “snark.”
Then again, Mikhail’s default setting in general seems to be “snark.”
“Well, that was disgustingly wholesome,” he says with a smirk –which earns him a pinch in the side from Illyana (which is definitely a punishment, considering how strong her hands are from playing violin).
You can already tell that the comment’s ruffling Piotr’s feathers in the absolute wrong way, but you can also see where Mikhail was trying to be funny and fell flat.
You decide to respond with humor before your boyfriend –no, he’s your fiancé now—gets too prickly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back to the regularly scheduled debauchery as of nine tomorrow morning.”
Mikhail laughs, then seems to finally notice Piotr’s icy expression –or, more likely, Illyana gave him a psychic tip off that he done hecked up—and switches course immediately. He clasps his younger brother’s shoulder –and actually has to reach up to do so, which is a little amusing to you—and gives Piotr a genuine smile. “I am proud of you. Happy for you. You picked good one.”
That seems to soothe Piotr, at least a little. He smiles down at you and squeezes your hand in his. “Best one there is.”
Your uncle comes up last, once the crowd has thinned a little –though it’s worth noting that Aiden an his team don’t try to get any pictures with him in it (when you ask Piotr later, he explains that he forewarned Aiden that your uncle didn’t like having his picture taken and made sure that Aiden and his coworkers would be able to work with that).
His eyes are noticeably misty –heck, yours are too—when he pulls you in for a hug. “Proud of you, punk. So fucking proud.”
“I’m proud of you, too,” you say as you hold him tight. “We’ve both come a long way, huh?”
“Yeah,” he concedes, swiping at his eyes once he lets you go. “We have.”
Eventually, the party comes to an end. Grant and his team pack up their equipment, Aiden’s and his coworkers put away their cameras, and the youngest students are sent to bed while the other residents head off to do their own things.
As for you and Piotr, the two of you head off to your shared room for some well-deserved one-on-one time. You wind up snuggling in bed –though, admittedly, that’s not the first thing the two of you do.
Because neither of you had been kidding about finding pleasure at the end of the night.
You admire your ring and the way it sits on your finger for the umpteenth time as Piotr traces gentle, slow circles up and down your bare back. You wiggle your fingers back and forth, then giggle, giddy and overjoyed.
Piotr’s lips press against your forehead. “Happy?”
“Very.” You tilt your head back to kiss him properly, passionately. “I love you, Piotr.”
“And I love you, Y/N.”
You wriggle a little in his arms so you can see his face better. “How long did you plan all this for? And how did you keep me from finding out?”
“I knew how I wanted to propose… since our first anniversary,” he says after a moment of thought. “I did not start making cards until your diagnosis, though. I did not want to run risk of you finding them and panicking that I would leave you if we could never get married.”
You smooth your hand over his shoulder. “Yeah, there was probably some prudence there.”
“As for keeping everything secret, I just kept it all in my art studio,” he explains with a smile. “I figured you would not look there.”
“Yeah, well, you were right. Not that I would’ve gone snooping through your stuff, but yeah. I would’ve never looked there.”
He kisses the top of your head. “Did you like everything today? I was worried it would be too taxing or obnoxious—”
“It was perfect,” you reassure him, and his responding smile makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over. “I loved it. I just feel bad that I didn’t have anything for you. Honestly… I kinda forgot that today was our anniversary until I read the first card this morning.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No worries. I enjoyed today immensely.” He smirks, then kneads the flesh of your hip with his hand. “Besides, I knew I would get mine later.”
“Well, yeah.” You sling your arms around his neck and smile excitedly. “We’re gonna get married.”
His responding smile is equally excited. “Da. I know.”
You kiss him and let out a happy sigh. “I love you.”
His arms wind around you. “And I love you.”
“Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”
He kisses your cheek sweetly. “Happy Anniversary, myshka.”
#sass writes#piotr rasputin x reader#colossus x reader#HOLY SHIT I WORKED SO HARD ON THIS#I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF#also there is so much fluff in this#i have it on good authority that y'all are gonna melt#and i am so excited to watch that happen :D#nathan summers x wade wilson#cablepool#negasonic x yukio#alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin#x men fanfiction#deadpool fanfiction
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(chapter four • read from the start on ao3)
If the greatest mistake of his life lay in unknowingly offering up his service to Uk'otoa, second on the list is letting Avantika beat him to floor of the basin, letting her kick free of his grip instead of drowning her before she could do any further damage. He considers himself a special kind of lucky that she'd taken his assurance that his hold on her was an accident, but Fjord knows better than to bank on that good fortune holding out. Though it's not like there's much time to think on it further with the temple walls filling up around them, water rushing up to their shins as they make for the stairs. They crest the landing not long after the tide reaches high enough to set the hydra and yuan-ti bodies adrift; funny how fast the water turns muddy from the blood.
They're all still beat from the fight—Fjord can hear it in Yasha's double-time breathing, can see it in the way Beau leans against the nearest wall for support—but the water is still rushing upwards, and of the things they can tally up in their favor, time isn't on the list. Fjord swallows as he looks up towards the ceiling above the blood-watered orchard, focuses on thinking about the yuan-ti still waiting there and pointedly ignores the crowded village sitting at the base of the temple. That's still a lot of mess for them to wade through before they're home free on the ships and, somehow, he doesn't think the yuan-ti would fall for his manticore trick a second time.
It's a desperate scramble back to the upper level: the site of Cad turned fourteen-feet tall would warrant more attention were it not for the water still rising fast around them. Avantika's wrapped a strip of fabric around her palm, but Fjord can see a dark stain already leaking through the center of it, a reminder of another problem that will have to wait for the future. Something to revisit when they're not still knee-deep in the shit, water cresting up the stairwell and him dodging strikes from the fucked-up yuan-ti with snakes sprouting from its shoulders. Soon enough the flow is up to his chest, and then the bottom of his chin, filling up the corners of the upper level faster than he expected. A lifetime at sea gives him a sense of ease on how long he can hold his own breath, but what about the others? How long will Caleb's lungs hold out, or Nott's? He takes a deep breath as the tide rises over his head, the water leveling out where it meets the ceiling, bumping up against the still-locked trap door. Fucking hell. If it's not one thing, it's another.
In the midst of trying keep his breath even in his chest and sending eldritch shots at the snake-eyed brood guards, Fjord loses focus of the details around him, only picks up pieces of the fight lit up funny from the glow around Caduceus. A bubble bursting from Yasha's mouth after she takes a nasty-looking hit to the ribs. Red filling the water around Beau after a claw takes a chunk of skin out of her forearm. The three yuan-ti bodies listing in the water, and a fourth floating nearby, blue hair drifting out like seaweed—
Oh, no. No, no, gods—please no.
Fjord's moving through the water before he gives himself time to think about it, hasn't even come up with a shape of an idea until he grabs hold of Jester, her skin turned clammy and too cold from the water. He's almost out of air himself, but whatever he has left he gives to her, presses her mouth to his own and exhales, slow, until he feels her coming to life beneath his hands. Thinks, as he feels himself going unconscious, that's not how I wanted to do that for the first time.
—
Later, when he's pressed between Avantika's sheets, the muscled curve of her leg against his and her bandaged hand resting on his chest, he'll lie. Tell her he saw the key in Jester's hand, a spark of magic glinting gold off the metal, and he'd saved her to save them all. The lie will taste as harsh as iron on his teeth, but he'll swallow around the taste of it, focus on the steady beating of Avantika's heart's under his palm, the certainty of the power she now holds in her Uk'otoa-blessed hand. He'll tell the lie even as he relives the truth underneath: the sense memory of Jester's half-open mouth, the warmth of her skin like kissing sunlight through the water's cold around them. He'll lie, give Avantika another bruising kiss as she digs her hands into his hip, tugging him closer.
But after he's snuck from the room, feeling the marks of Avantika's teeth and fingers and tongue on him like a brand, like something tattooed clear enough for the rest of the Nein to see, it's Jester he remembers, that moment in the temple that he relives. The ocean-crushing terror he'd felt at seeing her so still, the utter relief of her coming back to life in his hands.
Sleep well with your bad decisions, Clay had said as Fjord eased the door closed behind him. Fuck—as if he couldn't see it. As if he didn't know the gamble he was taking. As if any of this was his choice, and not that of a cursed god somewhere far below the waves.
—
They've got nothing but time on the trip to Darktow, and so Fjord spends most of his days thinking—his nights, Avantika still holds sway over—weighing his futures and not liking much of what he finds. As clear as the sun-touched water below them, Fjord knows Uk'otoa won't rest until he's been let loose, and so what does that mean for the rest of them? He lays in the dark with Avantika pressed against his back and measures the balance of his own life against opening the floodgates for Uk'otoa to roam free around the oceans. Since their arrival on Urukaxl, Uk'otoa has left his dreams alone, but Fjord understands he's only being given a temporary reprieve; Uk'otoa doesn't need to hold a fire to Fjord's heels when Avantika's already pushing forward like there's an inferno raging inside of her.
If left to her own devices, Avantika would see Uk'otoa freed before the end of the year, and Fjord has no doubt that it would only be a few weeks more before the seas rose under Uk'otoa's stead and split the cities of the Menagerie Coast asunder. He thinks of the falchion, when Avantika sleeps beside him, ready and wicked-edged and waiting to be called forth. Would she even stir before he had the blade in his hand and her throat opened wide? As far as deaths go, it would be a fast one, and relatively painless, too. Were there any chance of the rest of them making it off the ship alive after, he might consider it more seriously, but he won't gamble with the lives of the Nein as the price for his poor judgments. If it were only his own safety at stake, then perhaps he could find the courage to act decisively and cut short Avantika's crusade, but with the rest of the Nein aboard, he has permission to play the coward a little longer.
So instead, he thinks, playing out the possible outcomes and not finding one that doesn't end up some measure of bloody—either of Avantika's, or his own. It becomes habit to keep the falchion free at his side or strapped to his belt, even when he's not doing anything more dangerous than playing cards with Beau or drinking with Nott. Partly because he doesn't trust Avantika's crew not to turn mean on them, but mostly because he likes reminding himself of the stakes of the situation, and the sun catching yellow off the crystal's edge is difficult to ignore.
And, partly, because he likes reminding Avantika of where he stands, too. Sure, she's got Uk'otoa's magic running through her now—plays the part of the priestess every morning when she shifts the waves under the keel, speeding their progress onwards—but it's him who's got the next key waiting, who holds some measure of promised power between them. Call it a small victory, but he also likes for Avantika to see him pulling the falchion from whatever water-soaked pocket realm where it lives; even if she took it from his hand with the edge of her own blade, he'd be able to call it back with the other. She could kill him, he supposes, but—for all their sakes—he hopes he still has her convinced of his allegiance to the cause. That, or perhaps she's just yet to grow bored of him.
Whatever the next move is to be, though, it won't happen yet with the lot of them fenced in by the beams of the Squalleater. And so Fjord waits, and he thinks, wondering how the dice will fall when they make berth at Darktow.
—
"You got a minute, Fjord?"
"Bet I could even find three or four. What do you need?"
Beau closes the cabin door behind her and takes a seat on the hammock opposite where he'd been pulling on his boots. She's fidgety—or, fidgety for Beau, at least. Hands tangling idly in the fabric and eyes shifting around the room; it takes him a moment to realize they keep moving back towards where the falchion is laying near his right hand.
"Doesn't that ever freak you out?" she asks, tilting her head at where the amber stone is embedded in the hilt. "The eye, I mean. Don't you wonder if Uk'otoa's watching you through it?"
"Not sure it works like that," Fjord says, running his thumb over the sideways break in the crystal. "I think it's more...symbolic, than anything else. Like Jester's token of the Traveler—only, less holy."
Beau snorts. "The Traveler may be a god, but knowing the way Jester worships, I'm not sure he's necessarily a holy one."
Fjord laughs. "Fair."
Beau's eyes shift away from the falchion's hilt, but her hands are no less restless. You don't need to worry about that anyway, Fjord thinks, watching her. Uk'otoa's been living on my shoulder for almost two decades. He's never needed a crystal to know what I'm up to.
"Is that what you were wantin' to talk about?" he asks. "The sword?"
"No—or, yes? Fuck." Beau massages her temple. "Fuck, this is so fucking awkward. You know, we took a vote on who was going to have this chat with you. Consensus was that it should be me or Jester, since we've known you the longest, but it's not like I was going to ask her to do this, so—" she breaks off, fingers drumming an absent pattern against her knee. "Fuck me, I hate having to talk about emotions."
"Beau—?"
"The fuck are you doing with her, Fjord?"
Oh. "You mean Avantika?"
"What—has someone else been fucking you into the mattress every night? Yeah, Avantika. I mean—okay, sure, I get that she's hot, and, yeah, she's really working the whole pirate-queen vibe, but you have to know that this is a bad idea, right?"
"Look, it ain't like that. I'm not—"
"You're not getting fucked into the mattress every night?"
"—with her. Not really. Not in any other sense but the, uh—" he waves a hand, feeling a flush stealing up the back of his neck, "—you know, physical." The cabin feels about ten degrees too warm. He'd like to borrow Nott's neverending flask and drink enough whiskey to drown in.
Beau frowns, arms folded over her chest. "So, what? You're playing her?"
"I guess? I—" Fjord sighs, scrubs a hand over his face. "Fuck, this is awkward. You sure you wanna have this chat?"
"Yeah, no, this sucks. But come on—let's power through."
"Great. Fuck."
"Is that how you'd describe Avantika?"
Fjord snorts. "Yes, and no—she's mostly just terrifyin'. And all about control, which probably ain't much of a surprise."
Beau laughs a little, but doesn't say anything else. Not yet. She's still waiting on a better answer from him, but Fjord doesn't know how to explain this to her without telling her about Uk'otoa's role in it, too: that everytime he touches Avantika, he feels the shift of scales at his neck and wrists, like Uk'otoa is there in the bed with them, twining the two of them closer together. "Look, it's not like I planned on it happening or nothin'. The first time was the night after Urukaxl and she was all, you know—and then, I—"
"Got fucked into the mattress, yeah, we've covered that part."
He shakes his head. "Not how I was gonna phrase it, but, yeah, more or less. But then the times after...Look, sayin' yes felt safer than telling her no, get me? Especially when it's the seven of us against her whole gods-damned crew and she's got Uk'otoa's magic on her side. Makin' sure she trusted me seemed like the easiest way to guarantee we all got to Darktow alive. Keep your enemies closer, and all that."
"Keep your enemies close doesn't usually mean six inches inside of her, but, sure, I get what you're saying." She still sounds skeptical, like Fjord just told her he's decided to take up lion taming—which, in a sense, he is—but maybe less skeptical than she had to start with, so. That's something. He'll take whatever small victories he can get. "Just—try to be smart about this. Or, as smart as anyone can be when they're dealing with someone as batshit zealous as Avantika. If Uk'otoa told her to, she'd pull your heart out while you slept and wouldn't think twice about it. You know that, right?"
"Yeah," Fjord says, thinking back to the nights he'd considered doing the same to her. "I know. It's because she's so dangerous that I'm tryin' to stay in her favor as long as I can."
"Then I guess let's hope that your dick holds out until we get to Darktow and we'll figure out a new plan of attack there."
Fjord laughs. "Deal. We done, now? 'Cause I would really love to be done with this chat."
"Trust me, this is also more conversation about your sex life than I ever wanted to have, but, yeah, I think we're done."
"Great. You wanna get a drink? I could definitely use one, or two, or ten."
"Double it, and I'm in."
Beau gets to her feet and leads the two of them out of the room, her words sitting heavy on Fjord like the weight of the falchion at his hip. He hadn't been giving much consideration to what the others must've thought of his actions, but what he'd seen behind Beau's pulled-back curtain wasn't overly flattering—that he's a selfish or short-sighted motherfucker who's making decisions with his dick and little else. Not that he blames them, though—the past few weeks haven't given them much reason to believe much better of him. It's easy for Fjord to tell himself that the mask he's wearing is just a temporary thing—that he can play the part of Avantika's lover and Uk'otoa's acolyte for now, that he can shed the persona once he's done—but talking to Beau makes him wonder whether it's really so simple. Maybe if he's not careful, he'll get to the point where he's taken the pretending so far as to make it permanent. That, instead of painted scales he can wash off with water, he'll end up covered head-to-toe in tattoos.
#fjord#fjord x jester#critical role#critterfic#critter fic#my fic#lmao would be good to actually add the link
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Mr. Brown Eyes (Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader)
This ended up being way longer than it was supposed to and I had to split it into two maybe three parts oops I’m sorry
Masterlist
Request Queue
Free Requests
Warnings: head trauma, anger, teen pregnancy, and the 90s
Request- “SO SINCE YOU DO BASICALLY ANYTHING can u write one with teenage lin and numbers 14 and 55?? thanks, i love your imagines”
14- “You did WHAT?”
55- “That’s it. End of discussion.”
A/N -(The first time I got this I misread the prompt with something about pregnancy but then I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here you go
This is only my like fourth time writing Lin I need to write him more)
Song- I Like It -- We The Kings Spotify/Youtube
Words- 3,408
The way you’d met Lin had been perfectly imperfect.
You were laying out on the sidewalk outside your school’s front door. It felt nice to just soak up the sun’s rays for a few minutes. Freshman year was stressful, and you needed a moment away from people. No one was bullying you, yet, but it was hard to talk to new people without constantly feeling like you were making a damn fool of yourself.
You just wanted to think for a bit, but then a sharp pain shot through your brain, rendering you incapable of thinking of anything. You ears started to ring, and you sat up groggily.
“Oh...oh my god!” You heard a voice. “Holy shit, I mean-fuck. Are-are you okay? Oh my god, I killed you.”
You squinted your eyes open. Suddenly, the sun wasn’t comforting and warm anymore. It was too bright and made you nauseous. A blurry face appeared in front of you. You saw one hand-like shape reaching toward you.
Your vision started to clear, and you saw a pair of concerned brown eyes staring at you. You blinked, and the face attached to them came in focus. “I’m so fucking sorry.” The stranger's hands were fluttering around your head lightly. He was a lanky guy with a head full of bushy dark brown hair.
“What happened?” you asked. Your voice didn’t sound like your own.
“I didn’t see you laying in front of the door, so when I opened it, it hit your head pretty hard.” The man pulled his hand away and winced. “Shit. I think you’re bleeding. Can you stand?”
The nausea in your stomach said no, but you were tougher than that. “Yeah, I think so.” Mr. Soft Brown Eyes nodded and grabbed one of your hands. He braced his other arm against your back and pulled you up. The second you were up, you keeled over and vomited. To your surprise, Mr. Brown Eyes didn’t back away disgusted. He held onto you and made sure you didn’t fall over. Your knees gave out so your hero tightened his grip on you.
“Okay. Okay, you’re alright.” You grabbed onto his bicep trying to balance yourself. “Here. It’s clean I promise.” He handed you a tissue that he pulled from his pocket. You quickly wiped your mouth with it. Part of you was embarrassed that you had just thrown up in front of a cute boy, but you were so queasy you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Mr. Brown Eyes looked down at his watch. “My friend has a car and an off period right now. We’ll take you to the hospital.” He pulled a phone with a long antenna out and started dialing. You couldn’t say anything, so you leaned into him for support and closed your eyes.
You heard the man say something about meeting him by the car and then he hung up. “Hey,” he said gently, “Try to keep your eyes open.” You slowly pulled your eyes open. It felt like there were weights hanging off your eyelashes, and the sun was so bright. Mr. Brown Eyes pulled another tissue out of his pocket, and you wondered how many this guy kept around. He must have seen your confusion because he gave you a lopsided smile and said,” It always good to be prepared.”
You nodded, but then motion made you feel dizzy so you quickly leaned against him again.
“Is it alright if I carry you?” your stranger asked.
“Yeah,” you replied simply.
“Okay.” He pressed the tissue against your head. “Hold that there if you can,” he commanded. You placed your palm over his hand which stalled for a moment before slipping out from underneath you. He bent slightly, picking you up princess-style. You felt sick at the motion, but once you were safe in his arms, your stomach settled a bit.
“I’m gonna ask you questions like they do in the movies, alright?” He started to walk forward.
You laughed ever-so-slightly. “Okay.”
“What’s your full name?”
“Y/N Y/L/N,” you replied.
“Cool. I’m Lin,” he added. “What year is it?”
“1995.”
“Where are we right now?”
“Manhattan.”
“Who’s the president?”
“Bill Clinton,” you said in a fake Southern accent.
Lin laughed and nodded, “Congrats, you passed. Alright, I’m gonna set you down now. You can lean against the car if you need. Steve should be here soon.” Lin set you gently on your feet. He checked your wound before meeting your eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Nauseous, dizzy, like I want to take a fucking nap.” Laughter bubbled out of Lin, and you found yourself smiling too. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Swear all you want; I don’t fucking care.”
Another teenage boy came jogging up to you and Lin. “Hi,” he said, slightly out of breath. He was about as tall as Lin but not quite as thin. His hair and skin were both much lighter than Lin’s. “I’m assuming this is for you.” He handed you an ice pack. You smiled gratefully and pressed it against your head.
“Okay let’s go, Steve,” Lin said nervously. You were absolutely certain that he was more nervous about your state than you were. Steve ran around to the driver side and unlocked his car. Once he could, Lin opened the backseat door and helped you sit in the middle. He climbed in next to you.
“Seat belts?” Steve asked from the front seat.
“Oh my god, will you just drive?” Lin said impatiently.
Steve paused for a moment before clearing his throat. “Seat belts?” he said again. Lin groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes, but you were giggling quietly. Lin helped you buckle in and then did the same to himself. “Thank you, sir.” Steve smiled at you two through the rear view mirror and started his car.
“Here let me.” Lin grabbed the ice pack from you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and bent his elbow so he could press the cool bag against your head. You laid your head on his chest and closed your eyes. “Just make sure you don’t fall asleep,” he whispered.
“Mhm,” you answered half-heartedly. Lin chuckled, and you felt it vibrate through his chest. Maybe it was the head trauma, or the blood loss even, but you felt very calm in Lin’s arms.
Steve and Lin’s hilarious banter kept you distracted in the waiting room of the Urgent Care section, and before you knew it, your name was being called by the attendant. Lin stood up with you. “Can I go with her?” he asked her.
“Are you family or a guardian?” Lin shook his head no. “Then I’m sorry, dear, but you can’t.”
“I don’t mind,” you interjected quickly.
The nurse gave you a sad look. “Sorry, dear. If you’re not eighteen, it’s not your call to make.”
You looked down. “Oh, okay.”
“I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done,” Lin said with a comforting smile.
“Okay.” You grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze before turning away. The nurse, whose name you learned was Jackie, put her hand around your shoulder and guided you into a room where she started to take your temperature and blood pressure.
“Have you called your parents yet?”
“No...” you said sheepishly. That probably should have been the first thing you did.
Jackie slid a paper and pen to you while the arm cuff loosened. “How about you write their number down while I enter all this into the database, and then you can tell me how this happened.” You grabbed the pen and scribbled the number down.
You explained what had happened and Nurse Jackie chuckled. “Aw, what a sweet boy,” she commented.
“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling slightly.
“Well Y/N, looking at your cut, you’ll probably need stitches. We should also check for a concussion after that, but for now, we can move you into a room to make a little more comfortable.”
“I’d like that.”
Jackie had you follow her through a few hallways to an empty hospital room. “I can give you some nausea pills now, or if we wait for your parents, I can give it to you through an IV.”
Your stomach lurched at the thought of ingesting anything. “I think I’ll just wait for my parents.”
Jackie nodded and told you that a doctor would come in soon so look at your cut. You were alone in the room for almost ten minutes, bored out of your cracked skull, before there was a knock on the door. Lin stepped into the room.
Your face brightened at the sight of him. “Hi!”
“Hey, they said I could come back here now. Steve’s back at school. How are you?” He walked to one side of the bed you were relaxing on.
“Fine. I need stitches, and I probably have a concussion, according to the nurse. Once my parents get here, I’ll have some nausea medication.”
“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said seriously.
“Don’t worry about it! It’s not your fault I decided to lay down in front of a door like an idiot.” You grabbed his forearm to reassure him. Lin met your eyes a smiled.
There was knock on the door, and you quickly pulled your hand away. “Guess who’s here, Y/N?” Jackie walked into the room, followed closely by your parents. Your mom came to your side and put a hand on your shoulder gently.
“I’m so sorry,” Lin started right away, “This is totally my fault.”
“No. You shut up.” You pointed at him before turning toward your parents. “It’s not his fault. This is Lin. He’s the one who got me to the hospital so quickly.”
“Thank you for that.” Your dad stuck his hand out and shook Lin’s
Jackie explained the situation to your parents while your dad filled out some insurance paperwork. Lin stood next to you the whole time, listening intently to the nurse. You watched him without his knowledge. His oversized T-shirt made him look thin, but he’d carried you across half the campus so you knew he must have some muscle under there. Those brown eyes were so soft and kind, and when they flickered to you he smiled.
The six stitches weren’t terribly painful, and the medication settled your stomach, but you did have a very serious concussion. That meant two weeks of brain rest, maybe more if your condition wasn’t improving. Lin felt terrible because that meant you’d miss homecoming, your first homecoming. You kept insisting that it wasn’t his fault, but he still felt guilty.
Brain rest was awful. No TV or computer, no reading, no writing, no homework. Your entertainment options were watching paint dry or watching grass grow, except you weren’t even allowed to go outside if the sun was too bright.
Your days were incredibly boring, except for when Lin came over after school. Sometimes Steve would show up too, but most of the time it was just you and Lin. He would tell you stories about what you missed at school, and when he ran out of fresh drama, he would make stories up just to keep you entertained.
You got to know Lin extremely well during that time, well enough to develop a crush. You’d never admit that to him at the time, though. It was nice to know that you’d have at least one friend when you went back to school, even if you knew he’d only ever be a friend.
You were pondering these thoughts late one Saturday night. It was the day of homecoming, and you needed anything to distract you from the thought of Lin dancing with other girls. He hadn’t mentioned anyone else in your past two weeks of friendship, but you were convinced you’d go back to school to find out that every freshman girl had danced on him and he’d found a girlfriend.
You groaned angrily and shoved your pillow against your face. Having a crush was bad enough on its own, but having a crush a not being allowed to distract yourself with anything? Outright torture. You were kicking yourself for letting Lin and his soft brown eyes work their way into your heart.
There was a knock on the door, but you didn’t move to answer it. You were too busy wallowing in self-pity.
“Y/N!” your mother called to your from the front door. “Someone’s here for you!” You rolled your eyes and got out of bed. As you approached the door, a familiar gangly figure came into focus.
“Lin? What are you doing here?” It was dark outside so the light from your house seemed to make his skin glow.
Lin swung an arm out behind him silently. You brow creased, and you stepped outside. Gathered on your front lawn was a small group of students from your school. There were about ten or twelve, some you didn’t even recognize. All of them were wearing suits or dresses.
“I felt so bad that you had to miss homecoming because of me,” You rolled your eyes, but Lin just barreled forward with his speech,”So I decided to bring you your own homecoming. No bright flashing lights, no loud music, just Steve’s mixtape and some calm dancing. A concussion friendly homecoming in your front yard.”
Steve stepped forward and smiled at you, clapping Lin on the back. “Lin here could barely keep his mouth shut because he was so excited, but I told him it had to be a surprise.”
You looked at Lin again. He had a goofy grin on his face, and you noticed his suit was just slightly too big for him. It was adorable.
“I’m not really dressed for this.” You gestured to your flannel pants and faded summer camp T-shirt. “I’ll just go change quick.”
“Wait!” Lin said quickly. He grabbed your wrist and turned you back around to face him. “Sorry!” He loosened his grip quickly. “I just...” Lin looked down sheepishly as he spoke,”I’ve waited almost two weeks for this. Please, don’t make me wait any longer.”
You bit your lip and nodded. Lin clapped excitedly and, to your surprise, ran away from you. He disappeared around the corner of your house. Within seconds, you were flooded with soft yellow light, tame enough that it didn’t give you a headache. Lin came back into your view with a huge grin. All the other students were gazing up at the house and few trees that were covered in fairy lights.
“When did you do all this? I’ve been home this whole week!”
“Your mom helped me make sure you were distracted.”
She was still standing in the doorway. You turned to her with a look of shock. “Don’t stay out too late,” was all she said before she winked and closed the door. Steve walked over to a stool in your driveway and popped a cassette into the boom box that sat on top of it.
Lin was at your side again. He took both of your hands in his and pulled you slightly closer. “Do you like it?”
You gasped, “Do I like it? Lin, this is amazing! It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I love it.”
Lin bit his lip and stared at you with his big brown eyes, making it hard for your lungs to do their job. “I’m glad. Shall we dance?”
“Definitely.” Lin held his arm out and you hooked yours through it so he could escort you the few steps to where everyone had formed a dance circle.
“Now remember,” Steve said in a “fatherly” voice, “No strenuous activities. I made sure to put plenty of slow dance songs on here. You’ll be in good hands,” he said with a wink. Part of you didn’t want to think about the implications of what he said, but then Lin blushed and your heart exploded into schoolgirl crush mush. It was disgusting how much Lin affected you, you thought.
You danced for a bit, with Lin and Steve checking on your state every few minutes, making sure you didn’t have a headache and whatnot. You met a lot of kids from school who’d heard of you even though you’d never met them. Apparently, the story of Lin and your concussion had spread pretty quickly.
Eventually, one of Steve’s slow songs flooded your ears. You panicked and searched around. Steve had already locked around his girlfriend Abby. Everyone was already dancing with someone. Your heart sunk, but then you felt hands around your waist.
Lin turned you around to face him. Despite yourself, your jaw dropped slightly.
“Surprised to see me?” he joked.
“I thought for sure you would have a date or someone else to dance with.”
Lin chuckled quietly and pulled you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and started to sway with him. “Why would I bring a date to a dance I made for you?”
You shrugged and look at Lin’s feet. “I don’t know.”
“Besides, no one can pull off the PJ look like you.”
You laughed and hit him in the chest playfully. “Shut up.”
Lin pressed his forehead against yours smiling. “I’m really glad I met you, Y/N,” he whispered.
“I’m glad I met you too,” you whispered back. Your heart was beating so hard that you were sure he could feel it considering how close your bodies were. Lin took his right hand off your waist and cupped your cheek. It sent shivers down your spine. Twinkling lights were reflecting in his brown eyes which were flickering between both of yours.
“Would you be mad if I kissed you right now?”
Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden question. As your brain raced to catch up to your mouth, you rambled out a response. “Probably not.” You felt your entire body heat up and weight pressing into your chest.
Lin cracked a charming smile. “Is that a no?”
You shrugged and tilted your head upward so your lips were just a hair away from touching. No longer waiting for an answer, Lin kissed you gently, like he was still nervous about your reaction. You pushed back, taking his bottom lip between yours.
Lin pulled away and looked at you. You held your fingers up to your lips and giggled. “Mad?” he asked.
You shook your head. “Nope,” you managed to say before he pulled you in again.
Despite how nervous and awkward he was normally, Lin was surprisingly confident when it came to kissing. At least it seemed that way when he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. Lin’s kiss left you breathless, and when he pulled away again, you kept your eyes closed for a moment to savor the phantom feeling of his lips on yours.
“Y/N,” You looked into the deep brown eyes you’d grown so fond of over the last two weeks. “Will you be my girlfriend?” Lin asked.
Your initial reaction was to laugh out of sheer excitement and nerves. Lin’s face fell, but you quickly corrected yourself, “Yes! Yes, I will be your girlfriend! Of course!”
Lin grinned bigger than you’d ever seen and pulled you into a tight hug. All the student you had come from school started clapping.
You never thought you’d get your first boyfriend wearing pajamas in your front yard after he’d given you stitches and a concussion, but there were a lot of things that you’d never thought would happen with Lin.
Things like sitting in an empty bathtub almost two years later clutching a positive pregnancy test while Lin sat on your bathroom floor with his head in his hands.
Highschool, right?
#hamilton#hamilton imagine#imagines blog#lin manuel miranda#lin manuel miranda fanfiction#lin manuel miranda imagine#lin manuel miranda x reader#lin manuel imagine#lin x reader#hamilcast x reader#hamilcast imagine#hamilcast fanfiction
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“Is that my shirt?” I'm okay with any pairing you choose :)
If you expected fluff you dunno me at all buddy
Title: Make Mistakes
Pairing: Michael/Geoff
Universe: Office Shenanigans
Rating: T for language and sexual themes. Implied fuckin. Internalized homophobia.
Word count: 1404
Geoff had made a very big mistake.
It was a mistake to wake up in a usually empty bed with some guy you work no more than fifteen feet away from. It was a mistake to stare at him while he slept and think about how you’ve never seen a living creature so at peace, or maybe you’ve never seen this living creature so at peace. No, seriously, he’s usually frothing at the mouth for the cameras or he’s bouncing off the walls in excitement, he’s never calm. Geoff would never see him this calm. And he would never see him this calm ever again, because this was most certainly never happening again. He was too old for a gay scare, at this point in his life, he didn’t need whatever feelings this was giving him.
He needed to get Michael out of his fucking bed. That was exactly what he needed, for sure. He shook Michael’s shoulder lightly before sliding out of bed and grabbing the nearest pair of boxers to him. Need to get those on. “Uh. Get up, please.” He muttered at the bleary Michael.
“...Oh yeah. Good fucking morning to you, too, then.” Michael rubbed his face and heaved out a deep breath. “Dear god, do you always wake up this early? Holy shit.”
Geoff was hiding his major panic attack over how soft Michael looked right now by grabbing a shirt off the floor and tossing it at Michael’s face. He wore a black shirt last night, right? That must have been it. That’ll work. “I got a… fuckin, uh, doctor’s appointment.” What an A plus lie. Great fuckin job, Geoff, he totally bought that one. Idiot. “You gotta go, dude…”
Michael didn’t like this all that much. He could cut the tension in this bedroom with a knife, it was was tangible. Geoff wasn’t helping at all, pacing around the room and picking through the alarming amount of laundry that Michael swore he didn’t even notice last night. It didn’t register to him in the heat of the moment that he was fucking a damn slob. Did Geoff really live like this? Horrible. “So like, do you own a washer and dryer or do you just buy new shit when it gets too gross? I wish I was worth three million dollars.” A joke would lighten the mood! Yeah!
It was just now sinking in that maybe it was weird right now because he fucked his kinda-boss last night and maybe, just maybe, that was a big no-no. Geoff was wound up tighter than a clock. He like he was going to keel over and have a stroke at any given second.
...Was the sex really that bad?
“Uh, hey boss? You good? You seem a little-”
“This can’t happen! At all! Ever again! Nobody can hear about it, don’t even text a word to Gavin. This was a one-time thing and it’s over and done now. We don’t speak of it once we leave this house. Ever.” Geoff took a deep breath and shoved his leg into a pair of wrinkled pants. “Say anything at all and I don’t care how many goddamn viewers you bring in, you’re fuckin fired.”
Well, that stung. Michael glanced away from Geoff, slowly sliding out from under the covers and throwing on the shirt. “Geez, alright. Like I was gonna say anything anyway… chill the fuck out.” He mumbled. He joined Geoff in the search for clothes and didn’t say another word. Was this really the guy he looked up to all these years? Michael knew he was always kind of an asshole, but this really took the cake in ‘dick moves’ as far as he was concerned. He found his jacket and zipped it up, ignoring the ache in his chest. Because it meant nothing. He just had his ego bruised, it was nothing. He was fucking fine, alright, he was great. This was great. Quietly trying to find your left sock while biting your tongue so you don’t curse out the colleague you slept with last night was always a fun and enjoyable time for all! Fuck.
Later that day, it was another day of recording in the office. Geoff showed up late due to his ‘doctor appointment’ and Michael ignored him completely and kept his eyes glued to his screen. He begged Trevor for some busy work before they started recording. He had a hard time ignoring the fact that Trevor kept looking at him funny. After a while, he had to call it out.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” He asked, after the fourth eyebrow twitch and side glance Trevor threw his way.
“Um… nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Trevor looked away and shook his head, waving it off. “Yeah, there’s some shorter videos you can edit, if you really want. All in the cloud, go knock yourself out.”
“Great. Thanks.” Michael rolled his eyes and sulked back over to his desk. He caught Ryan glancing his way and quickly averting his gaze as soon at Michael caught him. Did he have something on his face or something? Earlier that day, Gavin took one look at him as soon as he took his jacket off, then his entire face turned a shade of red and he stopped talking to Michael altogether. Even Lindsay was snickering at him today, what was everyone’s deal? He sighed and tried his best to ignore the nagging feeling that, somehow, they all figured out what happened last night. It probably didn’t help Michael was wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday. They had to know something was up.
Michael was gonna get fucking fired…
When Geoff walked into the office, he was just as good at ignoring Michael as Michael was at ignoring him. Neither of them acknowledged the other’s existence and it was great. Perfect. What everyone involved in the situation wanted. Geoff rushed to his desk, made minimal pleasantries with Jack, and called everyone up to record an AHWU.
Michael huffed, wanting desperately to ignore that request. Fuck Geoff, man, he was piece of shit. Who truly cared so much about a one-night-stand, he threatened someone’s job because of it? What kind of asshole did that? Michael wasn’t the nicest of people, but he’d never do that, did Geoff even know how much that hurt? And now he wants an AHWU, well, he could record his own damn AHWU. Fuck him.
Michael was still going to get up, though. He was still going to do it.
Stupid. Idiot. He was the last to get out of his seat and once again, everyone’s stupid eyes were on him. And now, after twenty whole minutes of ignoring his existence, even Geoff was staring at him! Great! Geoff looked horrified!
Geoff looked horrified.
Michael didn’t like that.
Lindsay started laughing again, the first to break the silence. She was laughing so hard, she excused herself from the room. Everyone else was silent and unblinking, mostly looking just confused. Gavin had his eyes narrowed and his nose crinkled in almost… disappointment. Michael hated that. What the hell was going on. He lifted his arms up as the frustration boiled over. “Alright, hi! Guy having a bad day here, why the hell is everyone acting freaky? Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on!?”
“Is that my shirt?” Geoff asked, panic seeping into his voice.
“Is what your shirt? What the fuck do you mean is that your-” Michael looked down. His blood ran cold.
The black shirt Geoff threw at him this morning. That was not the shirt he wore last night. That was not a shirt he just happened to also own, there was no explaining himself out of this one at all. Everyone and their mother recognized this shirt. How he didn’t even notice this until now, he didn’t know. If only he did notice it earlier, maybe he could have avoided this very terrifying moment where all he heard for a few seconds was a ringing in his ears
As he kept looking down at the shirt he wore, Michael kept reading over the same two words on it as if to confirm that they were really printed on there and not some hallucination. Over and over again, his eyes scanned over the words. Make mistakes. Make mistakes. Make mistakes.
He definitely made a mistake right now. This was one fatal error.
#micheoff#angst#I might continue this solely because I don't want my boy fired#this is the second asshole geoff fic in a week#whoops#Anonymous
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four down
Summary: In which Nico gets his wisdom teeth removed (as well as a couple inhibitions) and Will’s just trying to get them both home without crashing the car.
By the time Will walks into the operating room, Nico’s already upright, sitting straight-backed in the dentist’s chair and tapping his hands on his knees in a sharply quick rhythm. Will suppresses a smile at the way Nico’s looking at the nurse as she gently opens his mouth to put gauze in, like he’s not sure whether all this is fight-or-flight worthy or absolutely hilarious.
Will taps the doorframe as he walks in, and the nurse looks up and nods at him. “The receptionist sent me in,” he says, nearing the chair and giving Nico a gentle nudge on the shoulder. “How’d you do, Nico? Anything hurting?”
Nico’s just blinking at him, eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging open a little, so Will laughs and looks to the nurse. She walks him through recovery details, hands him a pamphlet of instructions and a prescription for painkillers, and then helps him guide Nico up and out of the chair.
Nico giggles, swaying a little on his feet, so Will snags him around the waist. Nico immediately goes quiet, shooting Will a startled little look out of the side of his eyes, and Will just winks at him and squeezes once before they take off towards the parking lot.
They’re in Will’s car, waving the nurse off as she retreats back into the building, when Nico whips around and points a finger in Will’s face. His face is already a little swollen, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Who are you?” he demands, voice thick through the gauze in his mouth, and Will snorts.
“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Don’t remember me?”
“Do I know you?” Nico asks, in that same tone of astonished disbelief.
Will smiles at Nico and brushes his bangs out of his eyes. Nico’s eyes go even rounder at his touch. “You do. I’m Will. And you’re Nico. Those names ringing any bells?”
“I’m not an idiot. I know my own name, obviously,” Nico says, attempting to push out his lower lip with little to no success. The nurse said he’d be numb along his jaw for at least the rest of the day.
“Not mine?” Will teases, as he turns the car on and begins to pull out of the parking lot.
“I don’t know you. If I knew you, I’d remember,” Nico says confidently. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Will has to stop himself from slamming on the breaks. He can feel the tips of his ears go hot, wishes desperately modern medicine had developed a cure for the common blush.
They’ve come a long way since Nico stumbled out of the Camp Half-Blood shadows with a Roman praetor and a mythic statue in tow, but Nico’s always been reserved with his affection: careful, hesitant, even-keeled. Will’s used to Nico allowing their hands to twine together, used to Nico instigating the occasional kiss or, if he’s feeling bold, tracing his hands up beneath the hem of Will’s shirt to drag along his skin.
He’s not used to this, though, to the way Nico’s looking at him warm and amazed and incautious, like he’s never seen anything more radiant than Will in his life and he can’t bring himself to look away.
You’re fucking gorgeous.
“Am I?” Will finally manages, in a tone of forced neutrality, and Nico makes a sound like, duh.
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Nico says, confident, like when he’s talking to Hazel or helping Will with his swordfighting technique or telling someone the best way to give a treat to Mrs. O’Leary. “Did you ever play Mythomagic? You look like the Apollo card. Wait, I think I don’t usually talk about that. Do I usually talk about that?”
Will gives a surprised laugh - the Apollo card, seriously, his dad would have a field day with this - and says, “Yikes,” but Nico’s still going.
“I don’t know. Fuck. You look like a... like a sunrise, or something. Your hair looks like sunlight. You’re gorgeous. Did I already say that?”
“Yes, you did mention it.”
“Are you single?” Nico asks, leaning back in his seat, and Will has to fight the urge to stop the car and kiss him on the mouth right then, swollen cheeks and all.
“No,” he says, instead, “I am not.”
Nico shakes his head. “Dude, whoever’s dating you should try the lottery or something. God. Look at you.”
“Sounds like you’re a pretty lucky man, then, Nico di Angelo,” Will laughs, and he laughs even harder at the dumbfounded expression on Nico’s face.
“I’m dating you?” he gasps. “Me?”
“You,” Will confirms, and Nico bursts out into giggles again.
“Oh, man,” he says, “holy shit. What the fuck did I do to deserve you?”
“I mean, you did save the world a couple times,” Will says, and he reaches over and grabs Nico’s hand, brushes a kiss to the knuckles. “And you’re not too bad-looking yourself, you know.”
Nico gives him another dazed, slow blink, the twists of gold in his eyes catching the sun, eyelashes fanning black-black-black against the warm brown of his cheeks.
“I’m dating you,” he repeats, in a tone of extreme wonder. And then he darts over, faster than Will’s eyes can track - Chiron’s combat training paying off, thank you, Chiron - and presses a clumsy kiss to the place where Will’s neck meets his shoulder. Will goes still, feels Nico’s breathing on his skin, tries to keep his eyes trained on the road.
“That hurt my mouth,” Nico whimpers when he pulls back, and Will snorts.
“Let’s get you home, then,” he says, and Nico beams at him, unreserved, the way he had when they were kids and he’d just arrived at camp, all big-eyes and inky curls and unreserved wonder.
“Will,” he says, and Will lifts an eyebrow at him. “I think I might love you.”
And if Will speeds the rest of the way home and swings into a parking space at maximum overdrive; if he leans over as soon as they’re in park to pepper petal-light kisses across Nico’s face, his eyelids, his nose, his throat; if he runs his nose slow and steady along Nico’s jaw, careful to avoid the swollen parts of his cheek, well.
That’s between him and Nico, he thinks.
#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#solangelo#nico di angelo#will solace#my writing#teeny tiny drabble based on my day yesterday rip#yeah i just got super inspired by getting my teeth yanked out of my head... SAID NO ONE EVER#and yet#here ya go#also forgive any inaccuracies they gave me anesthesia instead of laughing gas
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Is there any way you can do a Clarke POV for "No One Can Lift the Damn Thing" please? (I was going through your fics and was listing all the ones I would want an Alt-POV for, and they all involved Bellamy as James Potter, wow I have A Type.)
I feel kinda bad calling this a Clarke POV but whatev I had fun I like social media AUs
Original fic and alt POV on AO3!!
Raven: Just got my invite to Finn and Ontari's weddingYou?
Me: NopeDo you think they flipped a coin?Or she just gave him an ultimatum?LikeYou can invite one of your awkward exesBut only oneChoose wisely
Raven: Honestly, I'm guessing he never actually told his mom why we broke upAnd given the choice between telling her he cheated on me and I dumped his assAnd just inviting me to his weddingHe invited me to his wedding
Me: Yeah, that's definitely what happenedAre you going to go?
Raven: YupGot a hot girlfriendI like his parentsAnd I want him to feel awkward about shitToo bad he didn't invite you
Me: I really don't mindI feel like I dodged a bullet
Raven: You could have brought BellamyFinn was jealous of him BEFORE he was famous for being hotImagine how much he'd hate seeing you guys together now
Me: You know, I was going to say Bellamy has better things to do than go to a wedding just to piss off FinnBut then I remembered this is Bellamy we're talking aboutSo he'd probably do it
Raven: Yeah, I doubt fame changed him that muchSucks that you're not coming, thoughWe should get together soon
Me: Maybe I'll just come hang out in townCoincidentally
Raven: I know you're joking, but you shouldI bet Monty and Miller are going
Me: I'll think about it
*
supreme-girl-wonder posted: do you ever get amazed that people you went to college with are now getting married and have lives and seem to know what they're doing?? I think I might have the most competent group of college friends ever, it's really intimidating
but congrats to my cheating ex-boyfriend on his engagement and thanks for not inviting me to the wedding
Tagged: #no seriously #thanks #I really did not want to go #it would be awkward af but if he invited me I'd feel like I had to go #or else they were winning #glad I don't have to worry about that #I can just get drunk in the comfort of my own home instead
*
Bellamy: Did you book your hotel for Finn's wedding yet?What days are you going to be there?
Me: Hahaha that's cuteYou think Finn invited me to his wedding
Bellamy: He didn't?He invited me
Me: You're rich and famous
Bellamy: So are you, princessAre we calling you that again? Did we reclaim it from Finn?
Me: I prefer Supreme Leader nowI'm rich, but I'm not featured in tumblr gif setsPeople commission me to do fanart of you
Bellamy: And you haven't sent it to me?I thought we were friends, Clarke
Me: Is James/Sirius a pairing you're into?
Bellamy: Obviously
Me: Then I'll send you some links
Bellamy: AwesomeFinn really didn't invite you to the wedding?
Me: He used to hit on me in front of the woman he's now marryingWhile they were datingShe hated meOf course they didn't invite meThey'd probably keel over and die if I showed upRelated: Did you get a plus one?
Bellamy: YeahI was planning to get them really excited thinking I was bringing some famous actress or something and then I show up with Octavia
Me: Or you could show up with me
Bellamy: Yeah, that's a way better ideaSo, what nights do you want me to book the hotel?
*
Anonymous asked: do u know if bellamy blake has a gf????
supreme-girl-wonder answered: why would you ask me, a fanart blog, this
*
Bellamy: Is it weird that I feel bad flying first class?
Me: DefinitelyBut you're famous nowI assume you can afford a therapist to talk you through these issues
Bellamy: Why would I pay someone when you took that one psych course sophomore year?
Me: Good pointBad how?
Bellamy: Guilty, mostlyIt feels like such a waste of moneyBut holy shit it's so much nicerI feel bad for everyone who isn't in first class
Me: I'm flying coach soFuck you
Bellamy: I don't feel bad for you
Me: Wow, you're curedI'm better at this therapy thing than I thought
Bellamy: Ha ha.I hope the tone came across thereAnyway, I don't feel bad for you because you're richI assume you flew first class when you were a kidAlso I have to switch to airplane modeYou're boarding soon?
Me: Pretty soon, yeah
Bellamy: CoolSee you in Ohio
Me: Can't wait
*
siriusly-jily: omgkarakaradid u see the new bellamy pics????
supreme-girl-wonder: probably notI'm out of town for the weekendand pretty drunkwhat happened?
siriusly-jily: he's at some airport in ohioidk why, there aren't any cons or anythingwhat's in ohio????
supreme-girl-wonder: maybe he has a lifein ohiofor some reason
siriusly-jily: no wayactors exist only for our benefit :Panyway, he's got a gf :(people are saying it's clarke griffinthe vp's daughter
supreme-girl-wonder: wowam I just drunk or is that a lot of conclusions to jump to
siriusly-jily: check it outhttp://remus-lupin-lady.tumblr.com/post/138742714390/omg-omg-omgthere's more of him with fans but lbrthat's A LOT of huggingand I googled, it does look like the VP's daughter
supreme-girl-wonder: if they were dating they probably wouldn't be having their reunion in an airport in ohiojust saying
siriusly-jily: truuuuuuuuuuuuuuokay I gotta go to bedhave fun with whatever thing you're doing
supreme-girl-wonder: will dokeep me posted on Bellamy pics
*
Jasper: did you really bring FAMOUS ACTOR AND KNOWN DREAM BOAT BELLAMY BLAKE to this wedding???
Me: NopeHe brought me
Jasper: ohwellthat was my second guessgrats on landing a celebritybut I guess you're a celebrity too???so it makes sense
Me: You must be this famous to ride Are you coming over for video games?
Jasper: yes obvomw
*
Anonymous asked: omg kara do you follow m&m media??? they posted pix of them w bellamy and the vp's daughter??? apparently they're engaged??? im so heartbroken rn plz help
supreme-girl-wonder answered: Don't panic, anon! M&M have said they went to college with him like ten billion times. Quick google search says VP's daughter did too. So they're probably at a reunion or something. And let's be real, if you were posing for a picture with him, you'd want to be as close as possible too.
*
Raven: SooooooYou took off early last night
Me: Not THAT earlyWe danced a bunchI think Bellamy made a lot of dreams come true
Raven: Including yours?Seriously, I can't believe you never fucked him
Me: I was going to, but his mom diedBetter late than never, right?
Raven: [confetti emoji]Seriously I'm happy for you guysOne-time thing or?
Me: NoDefinitely notWe're going to try to dateIf we can make it workAnd if nothing elseNon-stop sex for the rest of the weekend
Raven: Well, we're doing breakfast in an hourSo make sure you come up for air so we can make fun of you
Me: You make it sound so funGetting breakfastInstead of having sex with my TV star boyfriend
Raven: One hourIf you're not there I'm going to break into your hotel room and post pics on tumblr
Me: OkaySee you in an hour
Raven: [kiss emoji]
*
natsukashii-na asked: Random question but do you have a gf now?? You've been reblogging some couple-y stuff and I was just wondering haha sorry if that's weird
supreme-girl-wonder answered: Boyfriend, actually! Bisexuality: it's awesome. But yeah, we've been together for about a month and it's going really well. Long distance right now but I'm moving in with him in a couple weeks. I'm really excited.
Tagged: #I know that sounds fast but #trust me #it definitely took us long enough
*
Anonymous asked: doesn't your bf mind that you're really into bellamy blake :/
supreme-girl-wonder answered: He'll live.
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interlude iv: belle of the ball
absent: Kate’s player, Vekar’s player
prev | start | next
The party returns to the Apricity after a short shore leave. Shenanigans ensue, but the break doesn’t last long; Fawkes has been hard at work and has found something that the party needs to see.
summary
After the barcrawl, the party spent the other twenty-four hours of their shore leave doing their own thing before returning to the Apricity. Vasir poked around the Citadel a bit:
“They didn’t do much, like me when I have a day off,” their player says with a laugh.
Phos nursed a hangover and then took Kilo out to chill at the lake. She also tried to learn more about Leti Avonius; she managed to figure out that Leti is head of C-Sec in the Zakera ward.
I process this for a bit before saying, “So you’re saying that Phos is - stalking, basically - “
“Just a little bit,” Phos’s player says. “Just to make sure she won’t fuck up as royally as she did last time.”
“Oh, god.”
Beetle was hungover and spent most of the day with Holosmea and Sihhum, wherein she whined endlessly. After she had recovered, though, she said her goodbyes and left the apartment.
“She probably notices Phos trying to learn more about Leti, so she just follows her around with her tactical cloak on,” Beetle’s player says.
“She just follows me and Kilo around?” Phos’s player asks, incredulous.
“Yeah,” Beetle’s player says, laughing. “She’s just like, ‘hm, interesting.’“
Once the party reconvenes on the Apricity, they are immediately greeted by Aster requesting that they retrieve a star chart that Isolde had hidden somewhere on the ship. Phos elects to stay on the first deck with Aster and Isolde as Vasir and Beetle go down to second deck, where Beetle is called into Annos’s office to receive a Roomba. She immediately places a plastic knife on it (but doesn’t otherwise secure it, having no access to tape of any kind) before continuing down to Engineering.
Phos, after trying one last time to convince Isolde to tell her where the charts are, goes instead to look around crew’s quarters, though she doesn’t find anything. Vasir checks out first the medbay and then the galley, where they find the star charts after a suggestion from Kara to check in the cupboards. They bring it back to Aster soon after.
Beetle tries to eavesdrop on a conversation Fausius is having on his omni-tool using her Tactical Cloak, but fails to do so. Instead, he finishes up his conversation and she shoulder-checks him on her way out.
Once the party has completed the tasks set out for them, Annos calls them into his office, where he and Fawkes are waiting.
notable lines + interactions
Phos, OOC: But yeah, I think all of us are ready?
DM: Mmkay.
Beetle, OOC: Are we ready?
DM: Ready freddy?
Beetle, OOC: We are not.
Phos, OOC: My body is not. It wants to sleep. But my mind is stronger.
Phos, OOC: The ultimate power move: deny your body what it needs.
Vasir, OOC: Wow.
DM: So die.
Beetle, OOC: Power move.
Vasir, OOC: Wow.
Beetle: Hey, guys, I had the best vacation: I got trashed!
DM: Aster just gives you a thumbs-up.
Beetle, OOC: Beetle dabs.
Phos: What the hell do you need a star chart for?
DM: Isolde shrugs.
Beetle: That’s nerd shit.
Vasir, OOC: [posts this]
Aster: Oh, god, you didn’t put it on the Citadel, did you?
Isolde: What? No, no, god, no, I wouldn’t do that, you actually need it, right?
Aster: I do need it! Please give it back.
Isolde: No.
Beetle: Is it in space?
Isolde: No, it’s -
Beetle: Please, god, tell me it’s in space.
Isolde: It’s on the ship.
DM: Roll for it.
Phos, OOC: Oh, dear.
Phos, OOC: And it’s not very impressive.
DM: Yeah. Isolde’s like -
Isolde: Mm, let me consider that. Hm. Uh, I’ve considered it. No.
Beetle, OOC: Beetle’s not gonna fuck around talking about this. [rolls] Oh, mama. Vasir, please.
Vasir, OOC and laughing: [rolls an 18]
Beetle, OOC: Thank you, Vasir.
DM: You find some scraps of paper and you get really excited for a bit, but they aren’t star charts.
Beetle: Fuck, free paper!
DM: Do you take the paper?
Beetle, OOC: Absolutely.
Phos, OOC: I think I’m just gonna chill up here, because it’s kind of both Aster and Isolde’s fault for losing it, like, Aster could’ve kept a better eye on it, and Isolde is just being a little shit -
DM: You misunderstand. Aster was looking at it and Isolde just straight up took it and hid it.
Beetle, OOC: You think we’re good at finding things?
Beetle, OOC: Could you maybe give us a list of the decks? I’m bad at thinking.
DM: Oh, god, someone’s looking through the door. [distressed hum]
Beetle, OOC: Beat them!
DM: It’s fine, everything’s fine.
Phos, OOC: Snooped.
DM, quietly: It’s fine.
Beetle, OOC: Hello? Anybody there?
DM, hushed: God, okay, that’s another person. I bet I, like, took their room by accident? This is fine.
Tris: Hey, you. Annos wants to see you.
Beetle: Which one?
Tris, after a pause: Assman wants to see you in his office.
Beetle: Us?
Tris: Just do it.
Beetle: Assman? Us? [pause] Assman? [longer pause] Okay. Let me get into a vent real quick.
DM: Oh my god.
Vasir: Beetle!
Tris: The door is right there, holy shit.
Annos: Where’s Beetle?
Vasir: She’s crawling through a vent right now because she doesn’t like doors.
DM: He doesn’t look surprised by this.
Annos: Put the cover back on the vent and then take the door out, okay?
Beetle: I’ll do it.
in discord
Vasir: "take the door out"
Phos: on a date?
Vasir: so...annos wants........beetle to.......take the doors off his office
Vasir: okay.
Phos: with candles?
Phos: and nice food?
Vasir: keels over on my desk and puts my face in a pillow and tries not to screamlaugh
Annos: Good. I need you to do it.
Beetle: Is this a favor you’re calling in?
Annos: No, this is an order as your commander.
Beetle: That’s your first mistake, Assman.
Annos: [sighs]
Beetle: Well, I’m out. With my child.
Annos: Excellent.
Beetle, OOC: She, like, puts [the Roomba] down and opens the door and says, “Be free!”
DM: Did you turn it on?
Beetle, decisively and OOC: No.
DM: The Roomba doesn’t move.
Beetle, aghast: It’s dead.
DM: Kara glances over, and then she and Tris exchange glances, and then she just goes back to work.
DM, to Beetle: So you’re like, “It’s dead!” and you put your hands on it, like, “No, my child!” and, like, the button is there, but as you’re moving your hands over it, you just keep skimming over it, so this Roomba stays off.
Beetle: Give me a shroud so I can bury this like it deserves.
DM: Annos closes his office door
Beetle, OOC: Yeah, Beetle’s just outside his office, kneeling on the ground and screaming, “It’s dead!”
DM: Advika is there, and she glances over to see you prostrating in front of this machine.
Advika: Have you turned it on?
Beetle: What the fuck do you mean?
DM: She comes over to you.
Advika: Have you turned it on?
Beetle: Why would I turn on my own child. That’s disgusting.
Advika: Let me just -
DM: - and she leans over and presses the button -
Advika: Okay! Uh, I’ll just - I’ll - yeah. Okay. Gonna back away now. Slowly.
Beetle: You better.
DM: It makes a soft whirring sound, as if greeting you.
Beetle, yelling: IT’S ALIVE.
Beetle, OOC: Beetle takes out some lint and sprinkles it in front of the Roomba.
DM: ... Okay. Are you feeding it -
Beetle: Eat, my child.
Advika: Actually, while you’re here, could you maybe go find Fausius? He’s been missing for a while and I don’t know where he went.
Party: [dead silence for 6 seconds]
Advika: Okay, I see - okay, I’ll just - alright, sorry, I guess I’ll just do it on my own. Bye!
Beetle: Are you sure that Isolde didn’t stuff him in a locker?
Advika: Yes, because she’s tried, and he doesn’t fit.
Vasir, OOC and quietly aghast: My god.
Beetle: You know what? That’s true. Okay.
Advika: Yeah, so.
Beetle: Well, you know what? I can do two things, I can multi-task. I can look for some star charts, I can look for another person, it’s cool. This is good.
Advika: Glad - to hear it? Good - luck?
Beetle: Won’t need it.
Chen: Hey, Beetle! What are you doing here? I heard you have a Roomba? Please tell me you didn’t bring it here.
Beetle: I have the Roomba! - I left it upstairs.
Chen, instantly: Oh, thank god.
Beetle: It’s alive.
Chen: What are you doing here?
Beetle: I’m looking for some papers and a person.
Chen: Well, you found some people. What kind of paper are you looking for?
Beetle: Um, some nerd shit? Like, uh, stars - charts? Starts, if you will.
Chen: Well, if you’re looking for nerd shit, you are in Engineering, so that does fit the bill. But start charts? Uh. I have no idea why they’d be down here.
Vasir: Did either of you see Isolde do something suspicious around here?
Tris: You’ll have to be way more specific.
Vasir: Aster, I found a star chart in the kitchen. Was there only the one, or were there more?
Aster: I hope to god there are not.
DM: And there’s a slight pause.
Aster: Okay, Isolde said she just took one, so we’re good.
Phos, OOC: Vasir solved your star chart puzzle, Isolde.
DM, extremely pained: This isn’t the Adventure Zone.
Vasir, OOC: Roll a dex saving throw to avoid being run over by a turian.
DM, laughing: I don’t know if that would be necessary.
Beetle, OOC and laughing: Beetle shoulder-checks him.
DM: Okay. As you do this, you manage to startle him, so he, like, yelps or something, and then he says -
Fausius: Okay, who the fuck was that -
DM: - and starts swinging his arms around in front of him, trying to find you.
Beetle, OOC and in hysterics: Beetle leaves.
DM: Fausius sees the door to the hangar open, and he yells -
Fausius: Fuck you!
Vasir, OOC: Oh my god. I feel so bad for Fausius.
Beetle, OOC, still laughing a little: Yeah. I’m really sorry. All of this is in-character for Beetle, but I feel really bad.
Vasir, OOC: What do you see, cotton-eyed joe?
DM: I was going to say ‘with your special salarian eyes,’ but that works too.
Vasir, OOC: It rhymes with ‘where did you go.’
Beetle, OOC: What do you see with your special salarian eyes... my brand!
DM: The only room none of you have been in yet is maintenance.
Vasir, OOC: I mean, Advika is a maintenance person, so, you know.
[pause]
Beetle, OOC: Okay. Wow. Damn. - I’ll go there.
Advika: Oh, hey! Did you find Fausius?
Beetle: Yes.
Advika: Did you tell him to come up? I need his help with something right now.
[pause]
Beetle: Oh! You wanted that?
Advika: I thought that would be implied by ‘find Fausius,’ but yes! I did want that.
Beetle: I’m gonna, uh, I’m gonna... Fausius is on his way right now, probably. Just finishing up a call -
Advika: A call?
Beetle: - let me, uh, make sure he didn’t get lost.
Kara: Okay, I’ll just - let me just - I’ll get back to this later, Tris.
DM: And she gets up and walks down the stairs to third deck.
Vasir, OOC: Time to scram.
DM: Yep.
DM: Beetle, do you want to do anything before things happen?
Beetle, OOC: Um... let me think.
Vasir, OOC: “Who do I menace now?” Beetle thinks.
Beetle, OOC: Beetle pokes her head through Annos’s door.
Beetle: Yo. Stabby McWarhammer? [pause] Good choice.
DM: Are you - are you asking, or -
Beetle: Good call.
DM: Okay, got it.
Annos: I’m glad you think so.
Beetle: I’m congratulating you on making a good call with Stabby McWarhammer.
Annos: Thank you. I think.
Beetle, OOC: And then she just like, leaves.
DM: The door’s only open a little bit, just enough to poke her head in -
Beetle, OOC: Yeah, yeah, just to make him angry. And she doesn’t close it behind her.
Annos: Actually, Beetle, get back in here. Things are happening.
Beetle: Oh, damn, things?
Annos: And get your friends, too.
Beetle: Who?
Annos: Get your fellow freelance coworkers.
Beetle, OOC: Beetle pings all of them on their omni-tools.
Phos, OOC: Am I going to be able to read it? [short pause] Nope!
DM, laughing: Tragic.
DM: You have like perfect timing, dude.
Vekar, OOC: Awesome. Who do I get to freeze?
Beetle, OOC: Jetpack.
Vasir, OOC: Meanwhile, I have two shield upgrades, and I’m the only one. Still.
DM: Vasir is now your tank. Embrace it.
Vasir, OOC: God.
Beetle, OOC: Beetle is your tank now.
Vekar, OOC: No, Beetle is our jet.
Beetle, OOC: Beetle just jets up like an avenging god. Does a triple-flip snipe.
Vasir, OOC(?): Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.
Beetle, OOC: You know what? Fair.
DM: Holy shit, I can listen to music.
Vasir, OOC: I linked some stuff further up.
DM: No. I’m gonna listen to my music, thank you.
Vasir, OOC: But this is so good.
DM: No.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Vekar, OOC, muttering: It’s probably elevatorstuck.
DM: No.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
DM: No.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
DM: No.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
DM: No.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
DM: No.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Beetle, OOC: No.
DM: No.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Beetle, OOC: Weh.
DM: Yes.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Beetle, OOC: [unintelligible noise]
DM: No.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Beetle, OOC: Hm.
DM: Yes.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Beetle, OOC: No.
DM: No.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Beetle, OOC: Yes.
DM: Maybe.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Beetle, OOC: No.
DM: Je ne sais quoi.
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Beetle, OOC: Maybe.
DM: Quoi?
Vasir, OOC: Yes.
Beetle, OOC: No.
Phos, OOC: No.
Beetle, OOC: Maybe.
DM: Français?
Beetle, OOC: Possibly?
DM: Cowèurde.
Beetle, OOC: Hmm?
Phos, OOC: [starts speaking Danish]
DM: What if I just translated the Bee Movie script into French?
Beetle, OOC: Yes.
Vasir, OOC: Why would you do that?
DM: Do you remember when I did that?
Vasir, OOC: No, I remember you doing parts of it, but why would you do that again?
Vekar, OOC: [buys 4 shield upgrades]
Party: [various oohs and ahhs]
Beetle, OOC: Just a fun fact about me, I completely missed the shield upgrades.
DM: You got a jump jet, though.
Beetle, OOC: I diiiiid. A way to ruin things.
Vekar, OOC: [essentially gains 39 hit points in one go]
Phos, OOC: I’m just gonna stay behind and talk to people instead.
DM: Wow, so no different, basically.
Phos, OOC and laughing: Basically. Except before, I stayed in the front. Now, I’ll stay behind the tall-ass turian.
DM: You got a shield upgrade?
Beetle, OOC: No.
DM: Oh. [quieter] Oh.
Vasir, OOC: She sounds so disappointed.
DM, laughing: It’s no skin off my back, let’s just put it that way.
Phos: But, um. Yeah, Tris, I need to know - I guess I wouldn’t, like, say to tell me your whole life story because that would be fucking weird, especially considering I have no business nosing around in that, but I need to know what - what are you planning to do with Kilo? Considering you’ve taken them under your wing, I need to know if you have any ideas about how to take care of them.
Tris: I know how to take care of kids.
Phos: ... And can I know the reason why you suddenly decided to pick up Kilo?
Tris: No.
Phos, echoing: No. Okay, but, Tris, I fished them out of there. I have a lot - I care a lot for the id, and I really need to know this to, like, let you keep them.
Tris: What I do is not up to you.
Phos: No, maybe not, but what’s happening to Kilo is my business. First priority. And I need to know if you’re reliable to take care of them.
DM: You can tell that she’s kind of like - she doesn’t want to give it to you, but eventually she sighs.
Tris: Okay, I guess I am being a little hypocritical. Fine. What do you want to know?
Phos: What is your experience taking care of kids.
Tris: [pause] Well, I was an orphan and I was adopted, and I was pretty close to other kids in the orphanage. Is that good enough for you?
Phos: Mm. It’s really - Sienan said something similar and I noticed later on that she’d been abusive and I tried to fix it, and apparently it wasn’t fixed, and... [sighs] Do you -
Tris: Anyone who hurts kids deserves to die.
Phos: Yeah. Fair point. The only reason we kept Sienan because of information. Otherwise I would’ve taken her out, but. Would Kilo around on the Apricity, they’re gonna be dragged into danger. Do you what to do to keep them safe? If they’re pulled into something, are you ready to take responsibility for their life?
Tris: Yes?
DM: She’s tilting her head at you, like, obviously, why are you even questioning her on this.
Phos: Yeah. Sorry. I haven’t experienced anyone else taking an interest in them, and I’ve tried my best taking care of Kilo, and it’s a bit difficult to my lifestyle and Phara and Abel have been taking care of them, but - if something happens, I’m just gonna make the kid hide. But I know if Kilo hides, they’re gonna get into the mess anyway, you saw that happen on Nepts. If somebody else had landed and had asked Kilo about the paper, they would’ve just given it to them. And that could’ve ended badly.
Tris: So what’s your point? You’re exploring hypothetical timelines now?
Phos: I’m saying, just in case, what would you do?
Tris: Depends on the situation.
Phos: If we’re attacked on the Apricity, or on the ground, and Kilo is -
Tris: Those are two very different situations. Pick one.
Phos: If we’re on the ground, like, we’ve landed for some reason or another, and the ship is being attacked, what are you gonna do?
Tris: Protect them or die trying.
Phos: Okay, valid. I respect them. Do you need to know anything about Kilo? Since it seems like you know your stuff.
Tris: No. They’ve told me enough.
Phos: Okay, good. I’m glad.
Tris: Look, if you’re really curious. Why don’t you just ask them what they think?
Phos: You’re right. Do you know where they would be? I looked around earlier but I didn’t find them.
Tris: In my office. I just let them sleep there. I’ll give you the passcode, I guess.
Phos: Thanks. See you around, I guess.
Tris: Sure.
technical notes
Phos persuades Isolde to tell her where she hid the star chart.
Persuasion roll. 1d20 + knowledge modifier + bonuses → 8 + 2 → 10
Phos fails to convince Isolde.
Vasir and Beetle check out the first deck to find the star chart.
Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.
Vasir → 18 + 0 → 18
Beetle → 12 + 1 → 13
Vasir determines that the star chart is not on the CIC.
Beetle crawls into a vent.
Dexterity roll. 1d20 + dexterity modifier → 16 + 1 → 17
“Beetle looks pointedly at the door, back at Tris, and then just goes into a vent,” Beetle’s player says, daring me to argue. “You think I take doors like a fool?”
“I’m just gonna knock on the door like a regular person,” Vasir’s player says.
Beetle tries to turn Stabby McWarhammer on.
Mechanical roll. 1d20 + mechanical modifier → 8 + 0 → 8
Beetle fails to locate the power button on Stabby.
Phos persuades Isolde to tell her where she hid the star chart, again.
Persuasion roll with disadvantage. 1d20 + knowledge modifier + bonuses → 3 + 2 → 5
Phos fails to convince Isolde. (Again.)
Beetle and two of the Chens check out Engineering.
Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.
Beetle → 12 + 1 → 13
Ann → 8 + 0 → 8
Bea → 8 + 0 → 8
Beetle finds more loose scraps of paper. She pockets it.
“Oh, fuck,” her player says, “At the end of this, I’m gonna make the sickest papier-mâché project.”
“Make a piñata,” Phos’s player suggests.
“And what, fill it with dirt for the Roomba?” Vasir’s player says.
“Yeah,” Beetle’s player says.
Phos checks out Crew’s Quarters.
Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier → 17 + 1 → 18
Phos does not manage to find the star charts.
Phos tiptoes around Crew’s Quarters.
Dexterity saving throw. 1d20 + dexterity modifier → 12 + 2 → 14
She manages not to take anyone up.
Vasir and Suella check out the medbay.
Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.
Vasir → 7 + 0 → 7
Suella → 3 + 4 → 7
Vasir and Suella do not find the star chart, as Suella had predicted.
Vasir, Tris, and Kara check out the galley.
Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.
Kara → 16 + 4 → 20
Tris → 2 + 3 → 5
Vasir → 1 + 0 → 1
Vasir opens the cupboards and a bunch of plastic bottles hits them in head.
“It’s a rain of pain,” I tell their player. She doesn’t laugh.
Fausius notices Beetle.
Perception modifier. 1d20 + perception modifier → 15 + 2 → 17
Fausius can’t see Beetle, but he knows something’s up.
Phos persuades Tris to tell her why she is so fiercely protective of Kilo.
Persuasion roll. 1d20 + persuasion modifier + bonuses → 14 + 2 → 16
She does so.
Phos opens her omni-tool.
Technical roll. 1d20 + technical modifier → 16 - 2 → 14
Phos tries to get access to the passcode Tris sends her.
Phos reads the message from Beetle on her omni-tool.
Technical roll. 1d20 + technical modifier → 2 - 2 → 0
She absolutely does not do that.
The party levels up.
Beetle gains 1d20 → 20 HP and adds +1 to her... I actually have no recollection or record of what stat her player added to, so that’s a problem. Oh well, into the summary it goes.
Vasir gains 1d20 → 13 HP and adds +1 to their knowledge stat (9, +0 modifier).
Phos gains 1d20 → 17 HP and adds +1 to her strength stat (18, +4 modifier).
Vekar gains 1d20 → 19 HP and adds +1 to his... okay, make that two players where I have no recollection or record of what stat his player added to.
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