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danistartt · 1 year

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Gentleman- Jamie Tartt

pairings: jamie tartt x reader, richmond team warnings: language. i think i read this one too many times. about: request! secret dating because reader works for Richmond (as like pr or physio or something) but when they win a match one day Jamie is so overcome with joy he just has to kiss her

“Don’t you think someone is bound to get worried you’re coming in here every day?” you wonder, pinching away individual blades of grass stuck among the fuzzy dandelions of Jamie’s socks.

“Nah,” he says, watching your careful attention from his place on the pillow. He’s feeling bad about putting his muddy shoes over your clean lap, but you haven’t complained once, only appreciating the easy access to touch him. “They don’t know I come up here.”

You look perplexed. “Where do they think you go?”

Jamie shrugs. “The loo?”

“The one not in the locker room? Six times a day for ten minutes?”

“I keep myself hydrated,” he tells you, lifting up his water bottle to wag it at you. “Y’know, to keep up appearances.”

You chuckle, pushing the web of your thumb around his ankle and trying to touch your pointer. Your phone blinks up at you, the time precarious. Your hand slackens. “You need to get back soon.”

Jamie gets that sticky feeling he does whenever he has to leave something, gross and pleading at the pit of his stomach, his every cell calling out for him to use his time better. He wants to touch you like you’re touching him. He shifts onto his elbows and stares at you. “I can be a little late.”

You frown at the idea, your hands still and warm on his calves. “No, Jamie.”

“Yes, Jamie,” he murmurs, his arms making quick succession in tugging you to him. He’s strong, he’s always been strong, but you don’t tend to notice until he’s pulling you out from beneath his legs and hugging you in a single movement.

You don’t want to encourage him but you want even less to not make your delight shown at being pressed against his chest.

The minute changes. Your care for it begins to dwindle.

“Jamie!” you squeal, not moving.

He says your name in the same tone, as condescending as he used to be but sweetened by the kiss he presses against your hair. “C’mon, love,” he encourages, a horrid influence working.

“No,” you insist weakly. “Ted’s waiting for you. The team’s waiting for you.”

“But I’ve been waitin’ for this all day,” he complains pointedly. “Maybe I should trip o’er the ball or somethin’. Make a nice excuse to spend hours here with ya.”

“Jamie Tartt? Not believable.”

He makes a pleased noise, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You’re right.”

Another minute. Ted’s brown eyes bore into your subconscious.

Painfully, you peel yourself off of Jamie, slotting his thighs between your own. You watch his pupils dilate from above him.

“No,” you start, gently holding his face in your hands in a plea and causing the opposite effect you’d meant to. “No time. Later.”

He grasps your coat tightly.

“I promise. Just go to practice.” You spy the time and scramble off of him. “Now.”

He groans, catching your wrist when you hurry to collect the loose strands of his hair. He holds up a hand, pinky finger outstretched, and stares in question.

You roll your eyes but hook your own through his, a grin making its way to his face. “Y’know these’re binding, right?” he asks pragmatically.

You’d taught him that. The prick. “Yes,” you say exasperatedly, trying to pull him off the couch.

“‘M goin’,” he mutters, letting you. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“No you will not,” you gasp. “They’re going to think you have a bladder infection.”

“I’ll make somethin’ up,” he shrugs, looking around. He picks up your keys off your desk and wags them. “Maybe you dropped your keys when you were headin’ in.”

“Jamie,” you warn. “You can’t leave the team so much because, beside the fact that they’ll notice something is up, you actually like being with them and—”

“I like you better. A lot prettier.” He closes his fingers around the keys.

You inch closer slowly, but he’s undeterred and blows you a kiss, leaving your office with only muddy tracks left in his place before you can catch up. “Do not come by in half an hour!”

He listens to you. Kind of.

You see him a few hours later, a cocky glaze on his features, keys clicking against one another. “Hey, doc, I think ya dropped somethin’.”

You snatch them from him. “What a gentleman.”

“Right? Had to fight for it, too. Coach must really like returning keys.”

“How’d you get him to give them up?”

“I jus’ left,” he shrugs.

You gape at him. “What?”

“I told ‘im I found your keys, he said he’d give ‘em to you after practice. I said you might need ‘em now and then I just went inside ‘fore he could call Will over. I should actually be gettin’ back now, our screaming break’s probably over.” He slinks over to you and kisses your forehead, smelling like grass and sweat and lavender detergent.

“What?” you echo.

“I’ll see you later. Can you pick up some food before you get home? Kent don’t really like it when I leave the screamin’. Says it’s most effective on me.”

He smiles at you, waves, and leaves you perplexed.

You put down what he stole from you and notice vibrant pink peeking beneath metal, a green stem’s end through the ring. When you pull it out, you recognize it as one of the flowers that keep growing at the far right edge of the field. You melt into your seat, pouting at the crumpled petals.

“So, what’s the verdict, Doc?” Ted asks when you come out of your room, dipping a finger behind your right glove.

“He’ll be okay. He can play this week’s game as long as he doesn’t put too much pressure on his foot. I told him to ice it periodically for two days and then just make sure it isn’t swelling.”

“No permanent damage, then?”

You laugh. “No permanent damage.”

Sam pushes your door open, leaning on a crutch.

“How you feelin’, champ?” Ted asks.

Sam shrugs. “I’ve been better. At least Doctor Y/n gave me the all clear for this week.” He looks pointedly at you, as if Ted might need confirmation from you.

“Under what conditions?” you pry.

“Rest, ice, compress, and elevate,” he lists off his fingers.

“The most important for you, Mr. Obisanya, being…”

“Not being on it for two days,” he answers, ever the great student.

“I wish all my patients listened as well as you do,” you commend, letting him go with a smile.

Ted watches him go, turning back to you with a cheery expression. “Well, thank you, Doc.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” You toy with your gloves, listening to the team erupt in noise once Sam assumedly gets back.

“And also to bring a smile to all our faces. Not to say that’s a purpose. Just a nice bonus.”

You laugh. “Thank you, Ted. Is there anything else you need from me?”

He shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. Just wanted to ask if you were interested in goin’ out with the team and I tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, just the Crown and Anchor. We haven’t officially asked ‘em yet, but one thing that doesn’t change no matter where we are is that athletes always appreciate a good drink with good company.”

“Very true,” you murmur, contemplating. You hadn’t gone out with the boys in a while and you were beginning to miss their antics. You could sit around the house for the evening, or you could spend that same evening a little drunk with your friends. “You know what? Sure. I’d love to.”

“Alrighty then!” Ted cheers, pleasantly genuine in the way no one else is. “I’ll let ‘em know. We’ll see ya later, Doc!”

“You too, Ted!” you call after him, slumping into your chair once you’re alone. Your phone vibrates from the table, lighting up with a picture of Jamie that he’d insisted you set as his profile picture. “Hello?”

“Coach says yer coming with us tonight?”

You stare at your door. “He just left. How could he have possibly already told you that?”

“Team groupchat. He was very insistent about it an' m'honestly not that upset about it anymore.”

You laugh. “I am going. Are you?”

“Course. D’you want me to pick you up?”

“How do we explain that?”

“I’m a gentleman?”

“To this degree? Do you think they’d believe that?”

“I’ll go before. Help ya pick out your clothes, put ‘em on?”

“You’ll see me when I get there.”

“C’mon, love. I want to be the first.”

“You always are!”

“Do you really wanna risk that streak?”

“Yes.” Other voices begin to filter in, still far away but getting closer. “I’ll see you there, Jamie. I love you.”

Jamie pauses, a soft shuffling noise preceding what is clearly Jamie’s palm curving around his phone’s speaker. “I love ya, too,” he whispers. You hang up, leaning into your seat. Your phone zzpts in your hand.

send a picture. Three dots, blinking in and out. please.

Humming, you debate it before: i’ll think about it.

Jamie, of course, is the first to see you.

He looks for you in every creak of the pub door, slyly craning his neck to check for the color of your hair or the burgundy coat you tend to wear on these outings. When he finally catches sight of you, he looks away, satisfied to have been the owner of the first glance.

The others spot you quickly, raising their beers in your direction. Zoereaux puts your drink in your hand, cold bubbles splashing the curve of your thumb.

You thank him, kissing his cheek in greeting as the others crowd you. “Maybe I should be worried you all know my order.”

“Absolutely not,” Ted chimes in from your other side. “Knowledge is love.” He hugs you too. “Glad you could make it, Doc.”

You push yourself onto a seat next to Jan Maas, tipping your glass at him. “You look nice,” he says.

“Thank you,” you respond. “You too.”

“Doc?” Isaac asks.

“You can call me by my name, Isaac.”

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Nah. Feels weird now.”

“Alright. What’s up?”

“My sister says thank you for the advice. Her leg’s all better now and she told me to invite you over for dinner.”

“She doesn’t have to do that.”

“She insists.”

“You should just accept,” Colin says. “She makes a good Shepherd’s pie and won’t give up.”

Isaac nods, jutting a finger in his direction.

“Of course, then. Can’t wait.”

The conversation continues, and you indulge a glance at Jamie to find him looking back at you, an inquisitive pull to his brows. Your eyebrows jump, trying to ask a question with only your features.

You pull your phone from your pocket and begin typing out a message for him when the topic somehow heads back to you.

“Hey, d’you end up going on that date?” Bumberbatch asks suddenly.

You blink. Jamie turns to him curiously. “What?”

“With the prick. You know. Coiffed hair, All puffed up.”

“Um.” You try very hard to not look at Jamie, who’s surely staring at you with wide, amused eyes. “Yes. Yes I did.”

“How’d it go?” Isaac urges. Your mouth is open with no certain words to comfort.

“Yeah. How’d the date with the prick go?” Jamie pipes up, sliced brow up. He’s awful. Truly, truly awful and he knows it.

You force a smile at him. “Not as bad as I thought.” The team mumbles in satisfaction but Jamie doesn’t give.

“Not as bad, huh?” Jamie repeats, lips thinning in thought. “I dunno.” He does a little shake of his head and licks his lips, meeting your eyes again. “Maybe it went a little better than that?”

You clear your throat, heat rising to your face though you try desperately to keep it down.

Colin raises a brow. “Why would you say that?”

Jamie shrugs, unfairly unphased. “Just askin’.”

The attention moves off of you. You glare at him.

He smiles and, in the wake of a controversial argument between cartoons, winks at you. Your legs go weak.

You’re supposed to sit with the coaches during matches. Keeley had been upset at first and Rebecca sorry, offering a replacement medical professional for a game if you were so inclined to observe a game from the box seats, but you’d refused. Your place, although precarious with flying balls and the grandest source of stress, is kind to you.

You sit behind Ted during matches. The back of his head is surprisingly comforting in the tensest points of a match, and you find you can catch the preliminary movements of his fingers when you’re nearby.

There isn’t much contorting you have to do to sprint into the field if you’re needed, and the seat itself isn’t too bad when you’re not. Also, you have a great view.

You’re close enough to feel the strength with which the players kick the ball, you’re part of the very exclusive audience to the coaches’ hope, and when he gets close enough, Jamie can hear your cheers for him very clearly.

You’re completely sure he can hear you now, shouting at the top of your lungs up front with the coaches, fists tight enough to shake. He speeds up with renewed energy, the ball a blur between fast legs and fake passes. You grasp Roy’s arm with everything in you and let your eyes move to the timer. Less than fifteen seconds to go and a tie glares in blocky red numbers.

Your fingers spark with something hot, curling tighter around Roy’s wrist when the ball is passed to Jamie.

The time goes by too slowly and the ball flies too fast, a defender slamming to the ground with his hands up as Jamie’s kick sends the ball into the net. The clock ticks for the last time. The arena erupts in sound and a combination of red and blue.

You scream, finally letting go of Roy to drag your hands to your face. Isaac and Dani embrace on the field, most of the others running toward Jamie but Jamie is sprinting toward you.

You realize too late what’s going on, too proud of Jamie, too dizzy on adrenaline and excitement to realize what’s about to happen and why it shouldn’t.

He comes up to you beaming, picking you up easily and spinning you around. You respond immediately, palms against his warm cheeks, lips pressing repeatedly against his forehead and then finally his lips. “You did so good,” you praise, hoping he can hear you even through the overwhelming noise. “I’m so proud of you.”

He grins, finally catching your lips and lowering you to the floor. It takes only two seconds for what happened to settle in. You can see it on his face, the exhilaration contorting into recognition. He finally looks away from you and gulps.

The stadium is still loud, but most of the team is looking at you, caught in differing positions of celebration. Ted stares at the both of you, jaw dropped.

“What do we do?” he whispers to you. “Do you think they’ll believe it if we say it was an accident?”

“No,” you respond just as quietly. “No, I don’t think so.”

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hotluncheddie · 4 months

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Memories of somethin' even smoking weed does not replace.

wc: 2.9k | cw: alcohol | rated: M | part: 1/2 | tags: pre s4 au, steve harrington centric, stobin soulmates, raised catholic steve harrington

part 2 | ao3

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8:32pm January 3rd: Steve’s car

‘God stop complaining! It’s one party!’ Robin says, her exasperation at Steve finally boiling over.

Steve rolls his eyes, hard, wants to make sure she sees it. He’s stressed and uncomfortable and wants to be petty and petulant and complain because this night is going to end in him embarrassing himself somehow, he just knows it.

Robin makes just as much of a face back at him but then her eyes are full of concern. ‘You’ve just, been so mopey lately.’ she fiddles with her fingers, bites a nail even though that was her resolution. ‘and I know you say you haven’t been, but you know that I know, that you barely got out of bed on your days off over the holidays and that makes me sad.’ Robin laments, ripping his bitchiness off like a bandaid, seeing whats underneath.

Steve signs, defeated by her big beautiful brain. She is right, but. ‘Robbie. it was between Christmas and new year, there was nothing going on. What do you expect me to do? it’s literally time made for relaxing.’ Steves own exasperation falling away into something that just sounds tired. He’s so tired. And he hates it when she worries, he’s not, he’s still not used to it. Someone who cares, notices when he spends three days in bed because the thought of getting up when his parents are downstairs makes him want to puke. And, he loves her for it, but, sometimes it makes his skin crawl, makes him feel like he’s not good enough, not hiding well enough. Pitied.

‘But you don’t relax. You mope. You, like, wallow.’ She pokes his arm a couple times for emphasis, but her voice is softer, still a little sad. ‘And.’ she takes a deep breath. ‘I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I also know this time of year makes you miss Nancy.’

‘Oh God, Rob, please.’ Steve whines, desperate now. ‘Don’t start bringing up Nancy.’ He drags a hand down his face, that is the last thing he wants to talk about. Think about. Admit anything to anyone about.

She’s not, entirely wrong but Steve still hates hearing it. He does miss Nancy, or, well, misses her in theory. He doesn’t really miss her anymore. But, he misses being her boyfriend, a boyfriend. Being needed, and being held, as pathetic as that sounds.

‘I know. Just.’ Robin says, twisting in her seat to look at him looking at the road. ‘I just. I want you to have some fun dingus.’

Steve squeezes the steering wheel. He nods. Glancing at her and giving her enough of a smile that she knows not to feel bad. It’s really not her fault that this time of year makes him want to sink into a hole, makes him think about purgatory and black vines, what he wants for his future if both can exist.

‘It’ll just be some band kids there, a few stragglers, no one’s going to care that you’re there too.’ Robin explains. ‘Plus, if they say anything I’ll be there to defend you.’ And Steve can hear that care again, but its lighter, said through the joke. He lets his shoulders drop and Steve smiles for real. He can’t help it.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ he says, like she isn’t his everything. Glancing away from the road a second, Steve catches her smile. Happy she’s won but happier that he’s going to at least try and have fun.

‘And, don’t forget you promised to help me with seeing if any of the girls there are even remotely available to me.’ Robin sits back normally in her seat. Talking normally again, worry about her soulmate time over. ‘Plus, who knows, your new favourite customer might just be there too.’ She says into the window, head leaning on her palm.

‘Robin!’ Steve near shouts, scandalised that she’d bring that up.

Robin just cackles.

‘Man, you say a guys jeans fit him nice one time and then it’s all you hear about.’ He grumbles, pretending his cheeks aren’t flaming red. He really hopes any discomfort tonight has nothing to do with that. He almost prays on it. But monsters come out of walls so he stops himself.

Robin wriggles around in her seat, delighted by his suffering. ‘Hey! Hey! No, okay you ragged on me over Tammy! I can make fun of you for making goo goo eyes at Eddie Munson!’

9:00 January 3rd: Kitchen

Steve shivers as the heat from the house mixes with the cold evening air he just walked through. Robin at his side but she’s quickly swept up in a little crowd to say hellos. She looks for him but Steve just waves her on with a scrunch of his eyebrows and a gesture to the beer he wants to find a sport for.

The kitchen in strewn with bottles and cups and snacks, not a total disaster but people have definitely been helping themselves. Steve is a little laser focused on getting the cans set down so he can start on one, relax his nerves a bit, so he doesn’t even notice Eddie sitting on the counter until he nearly gets kneed in the crotch.

He takes a hasty step back and gives himself a mental shake, get out of his own head. Eddies smile looks amused, his eyes able to look so sharp. Steve swallows, grateful for Eddies silence.

‘Hey man. You want one?’ Steve offers Eddie a beer and makes a spot for them on the side.

Eddie takes it, nodding in thanks, their fingers don’t brush, Steve would know. ‘You looking for anything stronger tonight? like King Steve back in the day?’ Eddie asks, taking a drink, hair framing the long line of his neck.

The old name makes bile raise in his throat. Eddie didn’t mean it like that, probably, wouldn’t have said it if he’d known how much that name feels like a brand on Steves skin. Itchy and scarred. Like ‘Harrington’, like ‘Bullshit’, like something that makes people think they know him, like his body and self isn’t his own.

Steve looks away. ’Uh, nah, I’ll stick to the classics.’ Popping the lid and taking a long gulp, going for casual, slouching against the counter.

Eddie nods like it’s no big deal. ‘I won’t make this awkward by asking you about college. I know you know I’ve seen you at family video.’

‘Your late back on ‘Poltergeist’.’ Steve says without thinking. Winces, why is he acting like such a loser? ‘But uh, yeah. Thanks.’ He finishes lamely. No way any colleges wanted him on his concussion grades and zero extra curricular credits.

‘Shit, so you do actually do your job.’ Eddie shakes his head, like Steve had deeply wounded him, sarcastic and mocking, pretty little glint in his eye. But it still makes some ugly, desperate little part of Steve rear up and want to take it back, beg for forgiveness.

Steve drowns that thought and chugs the rest of his beer.

Someone must motion something to Eddie from one of the other rooms because he nods his head up in understanding. But before he goes he leans in closer to Steve, smirking. ‘Oh, and, don’t thank me yet. I also saw you in that sailor get up at the mall.’

Steve chokes on his spit, coughing and spluttering like an idiot.

‘Thanks for the beer.’ Eddie says, patting him once on the shoulder before hopping off the counter and into the throws of the party.

Steve watches him go, skin of his shoulder tingling through his sweater. He feels an itch, like he’s being watched and turns his head to find robin staring at him from where she’s still by the door, talking to friends. Her smile wicked.

Robins parting words from the car float back through his mind and make his stomach twist. ‘Lucky for you, Eddie makes goo good eyes right back.’ She’d said, quiet and teasing, and Steve hates her. her hates her.

It’s going to be a long night.

10:54 January 3rd: Staircase

It’s a little quieter at the front of the house.

It had been going pretty well and then someone mentioned Starcourt. A couple pairs of eyes flashed to him in recognition. Someone murmuring to another, mentioning Hop. And then Steves eyes were prickling and his wrists were tingling and he had to excuse himself. Squeezing Robins shoulder for her not to follow. Just a minute alone to breath. Sip his drink to get the copper to wash from his lips. Get his teeth back where they’re supposed to be.

Orange streetlights filter through the window of the front door. It catches the dust, makes it sparkle.

He thinks about midnight mass with his parents, their one Christmas plan that he’s not allowed to get out of. Thinks about how the light filtered through the stained glass, made patches of the floor look red. Thought about the ceiling of Starcourt, the taste of red metal on his tongue as the world spun.

Went up for communion and crossed himself. Looked up at the crucifix. Thought about how the gash that opened in Joyce’s living room was red. How somethings grow in darkness, in cracks and out of sinew. A nail bat ripping through skin.

He looks at the drink Robin made him as a joke, its almost wine coloured, a murky, deep red. It makes Steves insides twist, she didn’t mean it, she didn’t. But blood of the lamb is making the back of his eyelids flash red and brown, flash lightning and ash floating through the air. His nose filled with mould.

‘Yeesh what is that Harrington?’ Steve looks up, Eddie’s blocking some of the orange light, head haloed and face in shadow.

Steve looks back into the cup, seeing it for what it is again. Remembering how her face lit up with laughter as she dumped in whatever she could find, knowing it would be awful but knowing Steve would still drink it. She made it for him, how could he not?

He looks back up at Eddie, Steve can smell his cologne. It smells good. ‘Don’t ask, Robin made it.’ He waves his hand and tries to clear his head of red and black. The spirits mix with the beer and now his hands and feet tingle, he focuses on that, it’s nice.

Eddie eyes it warily. ’You wanna trade?’ and he holds up a beer, a different brand that the ones Steve brought, he has two, for some reason.

Steve looks into his cup, ‘Its honestly not that bad.’ He swirls the contents around a little, there’s something floating in it.

‘Seriously?’ Eddie asks. Steve looks up at him and his eyebrows have disappeared behind his bangs

Steve smiles, his lips tingling. ‘No.’ and his smile grows at Eddie laugh, he has dimples.

He looks at Eddie and decides, then, to take. See what he gets given. He can confess later.

The alcohol made a couple of the awkward conversations he had tonight bearable and the couple less awkward conversations he had enjoyable. Maybe it’ll do the same for him now. Steve takes the beer and places his other drink carefully on the stair behind where he’s sitting, makes a mental note to dump it out when he moves.

He shifts, sitting in a way he hopes looks casual, like he wasn’t just thinking about divine sacrifice. The staircase it wide and the carpet is soft, a nice place to take a break. A nice place to talk to a boy. A boy who makes his heart beat in his throat. Steve can confess later.

‘You run Hellfire right?’ He asks, sipping his beer and cataloguing again how the orange light shines on eddies hair, over his shoulder.

Eddie faces him fully, bobbing his head slightly to the music, Steve doesn’t recognise the song, he doesn’t think its one they play on the radio. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. like X-men’ Steve says.

Eddie blinks at him, but then the corners of his mouth curl and his eyelids droop and Steve feels too hot suddenly. ’Okay, I’m gonna need his majesty to explain how he knows about either of those.’

Swallowing, Steve goes for honest. ’Well first off you used to put new posters up every, like, two weeks man, kinda hard to ignore.’ Steve says, lifting up a finger. he paid attention, eddies doesn't need to know yet how much. But Steve paid attention.

Eddie stays silent, looks at him, eyes roaming over his face, lip still curled. Steve feels his adams apple bob.

‘Second, I babysit some of the dweebs who are current members.’ Steve lifts a second finger, takes another sip of beer. ‘And three, X-men is like super popular. And, like, super good.’ And Steve takes another drink, just because, just to help him be.

Eddies lips curl into a full smile, all teeth and a little tongue. He sips his own beer, looking away from Steve then back at him a couple times, like he thinks he’ll vanish, change before his very eyes. He shakes his head. ‘What changed with you man? I never expected any of that to ever come out of your mouth, like, ever.’ And eddies sounds kind of delighted, voice musical and tinkling.

Steve just shrugs, feels hot, Eddies voice too close to happy, words too close to praise. ‘Grew up a little, I guess.’ He crosses his arms, looks down at his shoes.

‘Yeah? That why no more parties?’ and Eddies voice is soft, Steve can feel his body heat, his knee by eddies hip.

‘I’m just not so big on, that much attention any more. That much noise.’ Steve says, looking back into Eddies face. Finds him staring, lips quirked in a little smile, softer, then before. Leaning his chin in his hands on the banister, leaning into Steves space.

‘So, you and Buckley, what’s that about?’ Eddies whispering now, like he knows it’s precious. The orange light kisses his cheek.

Steve clears his throat, whispers back. ’Summer job. We scooped ice cream and she, uh, scooped up my heart.’ he smiles, just from talking about her, thinking about them.

‘Oh.’ Eddie says, drawing away just slightly, eyes hardening in a way Steve hates.

He almost reaches out, something drastic, desperate. But he pulls back, fiddles with the tab on his can. ‘No, um. Not that kind of oh. I mean in, like, a friend way. Totally platonic oh.’

‘Right’ Eddie comes back, but it’s not quite the same, the moment lost. Steve feels a rosary between his knuckles.

‘Seriously, platonic soulmates. It’s a thing.’ He tries to lighten, tries to make Eddie read his mind the way robin does. It takes a moment, but then Eddie lets his eyes drink in Steves face again. His smile unfurling, sweet and pretty and different than before. He nods once, taking a drink. Looking away, cheekbones flushed pink.

Steve can confess later.

Robin comes barrelling down the hall calling out for Steve. But she skids to a halt when she sees Eddie. Then her eyes find Steve and she looks at him with raised eyebrows and barely contained glee bubbling under its surface. ‘Munson.’ She greets, eyes staying on Steve. ‘You’re late back on ‘Poltergeist.’

Eddie laughs, big and delighted. ‘Hey Buckley.’ He says. ‘Looking for your boy?’ but as he said that he’s gone back to the same position, still leaning on his hands, still looking right at Steve.

Steve feels his cheeks heat.

‘Ugh, not my boy. You are definitely not getting out your late fee for that.’ And she shoves him out of the way to get to Steve and grab his hand. ‘They want me to play beer pong, you’re on my team.’ And she’s pulling him up and away.

Steve cranes his neck back to give Eddie a little wave goodbye but he’s pushing off the banister, he’s following.

He walks slow, lazy, almost sauntering. Looking right at Steve still, with that little smirk. He knows. He knows. Steve feels the eucharist on his tongue. ‘What?’ Eddie asks, innocent but his smile isn’t. ‘I wanna watch.’ And Steve just squeezes Robins hand tighter, lets her pull him into the kitchen.

11:45 January 3rd: Kitchen

People cheer as Steve neatly sinks the ping pong ball into the final cup, Robin nearly jumping onto his back she’s so exited. The first couple games with Robin and some of her random band friends really weren't great, he drank a few times, helped Robin get through her shares, they barely won. But by the third game he basically played alone and won pretty easily. The crowd seem entertained, cheering for him and random people kept patting him on the shoulder. it’s weird, a little stale on his skin to be congratulated like that, over something like this again. But he’ll be that guy again for one night, if just to make Robin smile.

He downs a cup someone offers him in celebration. Accepting a couple high fives from Robins band friends. Tries to not be weird, to not show how the praise makes him itch.

Steve lifts his wrist up to wipe at his mouth. His eyes drawn to the far side of the room. Eddie is leaning against the wall, black jacket against stark white. He claps slowly once, twice, his eyes shining with something. Like Steve is something funny, something interesting.

Steve’s hands and feet tingle, his lips a little numb. Feels warm. Doesn't think about churches or blood or monsters. Just lifts his eyebrows, sucks some of the sticky beer from the pad of his thumb, and winks.

Eddie rolls his eyes and rolls off the wall, disappearing into another room.

But Steve saw his smile.

˚♱₊✩‧₊⋆｡‧˚♱⋆₊✩‧₊

part 2 | ao3

written for Lex’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge! run by @thefreakandthehair and using the prompt: 'spiked eggnog'. ty for putting this on always!! sorry im posting on the last day again lol xoxo

title from 'stick season' by noah kahan (edited slightly to fit better)

@pearynice and @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx ty for the kind words and guidance getting me unstuck with this fic <3 its alive now

lmk if you would like a tag for part two :)

#hes a boy with a lot of thoughts #some of those are about another boy #some are about the meaning of grace in a world with monsters #and that's okay #this was very hard and then very fun to write #hotlunch #my fic #steddie #steve x eddie #catholic steve harrington #pre s4 au #platonic soulmates stobin #spicysixwinterfanworkschallenge

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cowboydisaster · 5 months

Note

I have a prompt idea if you're still looking for some! How about the reader finding and taking an itty bitty kitten that was orphaned and Arthur's real grumpy about it at first but then she finds him asleep on the couch with the kitten curled up on his chest and he's got a hand over it protectively or something. I know that's not really Christmas-y, but I thought it would be cute! Looking forward to all your writings as always 🥰

* ˚ ✦ Moonlight * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f! reader

word count: 1k

a/n: Sorry this was late, it's been a madhouse around here. Anyways, i love this prompt and it makes me want a house cat SO bad. i also love grumpy arthur and if you couldn't tell already, domesticity is my roman empire rn.

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: THREE days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

“No.” Arthur growls, voice stern, resolve set. Your eyes are as big as dinner plates as you continue pleading and begging. Your lip juts out, even, testing his patience, shaking his resolve. Arthur is notoriously bad at telling you no. When you’d asked for a second baby, he’d willingly agreed. When you’d asked for the house, and the farm, he’d made it happen for you. But this?

“Please, Arthur… Where else is he supposed to go?” You whisper so as not to wake the baby, sleeping soundly in her bassinet.

“I don’t give a damn. Not here.” Arthur grumbles, placing his tools from work on the table. You follow him around the kitchen like a shadow as he opens and closes cupboards and drawers, putting away all his items from the day.

Arthur is pointedly trying not to look at the little black ball of fur nestled in your arms. He’s afraid that if he catches a glimpse of those big, sad eyes, he’ll agree with you, and he’ll have an extra mouth to feed.

“Where’d you find it, anyways?” Arthur says, turning, sighing as you push the teeny kitten up towards his face, holding it under its little armpits.

“I found him stranded on the road back from the market. Look at him, Arthur. He’s not well. We’ll have to feed him.” You plead. Arthur’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he stops and turns around. You nearly run into his back, stopping just in time.

Arthur gets a good glimpse at the little feller then. He’s just a little cat, probably only a few months old. He’s far too skinny, and his jet black coat is ruffled and dirty from the elements. You hold the cat out to show Arthur, and then he sees the little, white, crescent-shaped mark that adorns his forehead, right between his blue eyes. Arthur releases the bridge of his nose, sighing grumpily. When his eyes crack open, and he sees your pleading face, perfectly matching the cat’s expression, he gives up.

“Goddammit, fine. Jus’ throw him in the spare room, n’ I’ll find him some fish or somethin’.” Arthur says, rather dramatically, in your opinion. You hold the kitten close to your chest, your spare arm wrapping around the man’s neck.

“Oh, thank you, Arthur!!” You smile, kissing him quickly before popping down from your tiptoes.

“Yeah, well don’t get all cheery just yet. We’re tossin’ him back out in the snow as soon as he’s good and healthy.”

— — —

The rocking chair swings back and forth quietly. Your hand gently taps your daughter’s back, and you hum quietly. She’d woken you and Arthur up in a fit, hungry, raising her little fists into the air and giving you both hell. But now, her little belly is full, and a peaceful silence has fallen over the house once more. The moonlight streaking through the windows tells you that it’s early morning, and you sigh at another night’s lack of sleep.

“Easy, baby.” You whisper, quietly and slowly standing from the rocking chair, swaying her in your arms until you reach her bassinet.

“Good night, my sweet girl.” You whisper sweetly, pressing a kiss to her little forehead, brushing some peach fuzz out of her face.

You push the nursery door open quietly, eager to find your place next to Arthur in bed again. But a few steps down the hall, you stop in your tracks, a familiar voice coming from the living room.

“Yeah, well you’re a right bastard, y’know that?” Arthur whispers, and you suppress a laugh, peeking around the corner.

Arthur is sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. Laying on his chest, nuzzled against his thick arm, is the little kitten. He purrs loudly, eyes closed, awfully content in your husband’s arms. Your heart melts in its cavern at the sight, and you watch the scene play out with bright eyes.

“The lady is puttin’ the lil’ one back to bed, I figure I might as well do somethin’. So, make no mistakes, partner. We ain’t friends.” He whispers to the kitten, but contrary to his harsh words, Arthur’s finger scratches gently behind the kitten’s ear, pulling deep rumbles and purrs from the little animal. A few moments go by with Arthur’s hand resting protectively on the little cat.

“Y’know, you are kinda cute… But don’t tell the missus I said that. I don’t want her thinkin’ I’ve gone soft.”

You suppress a chuckle.

“I reckon we should call you Moon… cause you got a little one right between them big eyes.” Arthur hums, eyelids growing heavy the longer he rests on the couch. You clear your throat gently, making him aware of your presence before stepping into the living room.

“Didn’t see you there.” Arthur says, sitting straight on the couch, cheeks tinted pink.

“She’s asleep.” You smile, “I see you’re making friends.”

Arthur exhales sharply, a huff of a laugh, “Me and the cat? Nah, he uh– he wouldn’t stop hollerin’ so I tried holdin’ him.” Arthur excuses, hand still wrapped protectively around the sleeping animal.

“Right.” You raise an eyebrow, “You comin’ back to bed, then?”

Arthur hesitates, looking up at you, then down to Moon.

“I’ll be in shortly, sweetheart. Just gonna stay out here a little longer with him so he doesn’t go wakin’ you or the kids up.”

You smirk, “Alright then, Arthur.”

A kiss is planted to his lips before you head to the bedroom, and he sinks back down on the couch with Moon tucked into his arm.

Five minutes turn to ten, and ten to thirty. And when you wake up to start breakfast, your husband is still cuddled up on the couch. Snores fall from his lips, matching the time of little content purrs coming from Moon, sleeping in a little ball right on Arthur’s chest. So much for not giving a damn. You chuckle to yourself.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445 [to be added or removed, shoot me an ask! :)]

#divider by cafekitsune #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom

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teamatsumu · 5 months

Text

was i meant to love you? (part two)

pairing: miya osamu x reader

summary: the kanji on your arm says miya atsumu’s name, but every fiber of your being is in love with his twin brother.

word count: 3314

warnings: fem!reader, soulmate au, friends to lovers, some non canon events, swearing, angst if you squint, atsumu x reader, cheating trope (you have been warned), suggestive sexual content but nothing explicit

taglist: @hadukada @utopiamiroh @angstylittleb1tch @sassycheesecake

previous part // series masterlist

The thud of volleyballs and squeaking of shoes was quickly dissipating as members of the Inarizaki Boys’ Volleyball Team slowly cleared out of the gym. Everyone had done their share of cleaning, but your captain, Kita Shinsuke, was meticulous as ever, making sure the wet mops were clean so they didn’t stink up the storage room and all the balls were accounted for. As usual, he insisted you head out, saying it was already very late and he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of you still being out of the house at this time and in this weather.

The cold air stung you when you stepped out, choosing to forego changing back into your school uniform and instead walking home in your volleyball team tracksuit. Your wool scarf did plenty to warm you up, but it couldn’t substitute for the heat of your blankets or bed, so you hurriedly trudged on.

Your phone buzzed in your jacket pocket.

Samu: where are u? walk home together?

You frowned and sighed at the message. Osamu offering to walk you home meant Atumu would be there too. And you really didn’t want to be around him, not after your newly realized feelings. Or lack thereof, actually. You weren’t in the mood to once again be confronted by the fact that your soulmate didn’t make your heart burst with love like he should.

Your phone buzzed again, shaking you from your thoughts.

Samu: ur not at the gym?? its just kita here

You scowled, slowing to a stop. Where the hell was Osamu? You tapped on the little receiver icon, lifting the phone to your ear. Once the line connected, you heard his breaths on the other end.

“Why are you at the gym? You should’ve been home twenty minutes ago.” You asked, shivering. The twins had left after practice, knowing you often stayed late to tie up loose ends.

“I sat down at the store around the corner for a bit. I came back to check if ya were done. Where are ya?”

Before you could answer, heavy footsteps sounded behind you, making you cut the line when Osamu entered your field of vision. You felt your lips tug up, waving at him as he hung up and reached you, shoulders hunched to protect his neck from the cold.

“You’re gonna get sick.” You frowned as you watched him.

“Hello to you too.” He rolled his eyes and childishly stuck out his tongue, both of you falling in step as you trekked the way back to your neighborhood.

The walk was relatively silent, with Osamu offering you a packet of jelly beans. You popped one in your mouth, trying to rid yourself of the relief you felt when you saw that Atsumu wasn’t with him. It wasn’t something you were proud of, avoiding your own soulmate, but it helped that Atsumu was so focused on volleyball most days that he didn’t really care either.

You wondered if you should tell Osamu about it, but dismissed the thought quickly. Osamu didn’t even have a soulmate. If you complained about your own soulmate problems, it would make you feel like a monster.

Maybe you were a monster. An ungrateful one at that.

“Where’s Tsumu?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek. Your guilt had spurred your question, and all it did was double the horrible feeling inside you.

Osamu shrugged. “He didn’t wanna wait at the store. Somethin’ about wanting to pee real bad.”

“Charming.” You deadpanned, before frowning at the boy next to you. “Wait, you were waiting? What for? Me to be done?”

Osamu only nodded, focused a little too much on his jelly beans. Your scowled deepened as did your confusion.

“Why?”

Osamu shrugged, still avoiding your eyes. “It’s colder than usual. And with the wind blowing like this, it might rain or storm. What if ya got stuck in it?”

Your heart skipped, mouth going dry as words failed you. You watched Osamu’s profile, the way his gray hair fell over his forehead, some strands catching his eyelids. His profile was all straight lines, the jut of his jaw prominent as he chewed.

“Samu…”

Unexpectedly, tears were pricking at your eyes. You choked out a surprised sob, your feet stopping as months worth of suppressed emotions overwhelmed you.

“What the-” Osamu’s wide eyes snapped towards you, crushing the empty snack wrapper and shoving it into his backpack before he turned to you. “Why are ya cryin’? What did I say?”

You shook your head a bit harder than necessary, trying to convey that no part of your fucked up, guilt ridden, fearful brain was caused by him. You waved your hands a bit, trying to say anything at all that wasn’t pathetic crying noises. Osamu softened a bit.

“Is this about Tsumu?” His voice was more muted now, and you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the wind whooshing in your ears. You stared at him with wide eyes. Did…. he know?

Osamu gave you a sad smile and a shrug. “It’s pretty obvious. Yer avoidin’ him. Didja guys get in a fight?”

You shook your head, looking closely at Osamu. His face was blank, but open. He stared right back, and his eyes were so calm that it stopped your own flowing tears. Something in your mind was made up.

“Samu, can I confess something to you?”

He gave you an encouraging little smile. “Always.”

That did it. Your rant started there, on the sidewalk outside a closed down bookstore, and ended at your house, on your bed, both of you out of your outdoor wear and with steaming hot cocoa mugs between the two of you. Osamu had not only listened, but he had guided you all the way home while you lost yourself in your words. And he made you a hot beverage along the way too.

Silence stretched over you both when you finished, staring down at the mug before you. Your cheeks were warm, half from how heated you got as you spilled your heart out and half from being out of the stormy weather. Osamu had been smart to return to your house instead of his, so you could talk without fear of Atsumu listening. You stared at him when you finished, but when he didn’t say anything, you tacked on one more sentence.

“I don’t know what to do.”

The cry for help was clear in your voice, and it made him look up at you.

“I…. don’t know that either.” He confessed. “I wish I could tell you.”

He shuffled a bit closer to you, directly in front of you, and gave you the softest smile. Your heart skipped again, that same funny feeling you got when he told you he waited for you. And you felt, once more, the urge to hug him tight.

“I don’t….. really know how this soulmate thing goes.” He muttered, and you listened with bated breath. For the first time ever, Osamu was talking about his own lack of soulmate. “But I do know one thing. You and Tsumu have known each other forever. Whatever this thing is, it will pass. And the universe put ya two together, of course yer meant ta be. Don’t worry yer little head about it, okay?”

You felt your heart settle as you looked into Osamu’s eyes. So calm, so unlike your muddled thoughts. But his words inspired little comfort, but in his close proximity, you ignored it entirely. Your cheeks heated up, and you felt the urge to close the gap between you two even more. So you did.

Osamu wrapped you up in his arms when you pressed closer to him, not hesitating in hugging you tight. You felt your heart race faster, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it made your nerves quietly buzz, a soft thrumming that felt so nice you nearly cried.

You didn’t even realize when you fell asleep, too exhausted from having spilled your whole heart out. So you definitely didn’t notice the wet sheen in Osamu’s eyes, or how he rapidly blinked his tears away to make sure they didn’t fall on you, his hold on your body gently tightening.

………………

Something changed after that night. Somehow, Osamu being the only one who knew your shameful secret brought you even closer together. While you didn’t talk about it again, Osamu subtly encouraged you to get closer to Atsumu, to spend more time with him and “mend” your failing relationship. To Atsumu’s credit, you two did end up spending an awesome night out together, which could technically be classified as a date but felt more like hanging out with your best friend. You giggled and laughed with him all night, like you used to, and some of the fear in your head melted away. Maybe Osamu was right. Maybe everything would be okay.

When Atsumu kissed you goodnight at your front door, you didn’t feel anything. But you weren’t worried. This would fix itself too. Just as everything else had fixed itself.

You entered your third year of high school with your boyfriend and best friend by your side, ready to crush senior year and then move onto adult life. Atsumu went to Youth Camp again, now being seriously looked at as a candidate for the pro leagues. You were ecstatic for him, and you trusted completely that he would crush it. Osamu was looking into culinary school, and you were looking into university as well in your own preferred field.

Graduation was an emotional affair, especially with the realization that you were splitting up from the Twins soon. You had been accepted into a university in Tokyo, while Osamu was staying in Hyogo. Atsumu was already trying out for the V League, and it had him bouncing from place to place.

Your mother was vehemently against you and Atsumu not staying together, which annoyed you. The idea of staying glued to his ass was not appealing. You wanted to carve your own path. It was only when you convinced your mother that Atsumu’s endless traveling would have him in Tokyo quite often did she feel satisfied enough, and so life as an adult began filled with a promise for new adventures.

It was away at university that you first experienced just how much you depended on the Twins. Especially Osamu.

Emotionally, Osamu had been your rock. He was always the one you went to with every rant, every problem, every worry. While Atsumu was helpful at times too, he was more of a talker than a listener. But Osamu always gave you his full attention. He would sit and listen to you for hours if you asked, chiming in at all the right places and really making you feel heard. When you started life at a new place, you were hit with the nasty, all encompassing feeling of missing him down to your very bones.

You texted him, you video called, you watched as the gray dye slowly faded from his hair, leaving him with his natural dark brown. He talked to you about culinary school, excited to share what new dish or flavor he had learned or created, and you watched as his face fleshed out more, losing almost all his remaining childhood fat and leaving him looking older. You supposed you changed in the same way, but Osamu never commented on it. He always talked to you the same, like you had never left.

You missed him terribly.

Your university friends were overly in awe that your soulmate was a pro volleyball player, and often thought you were on the phone with him when it was actually Osamu. It did hit you with a pang of guilt slightly, because while you also talked to Atsumu daily, it was never very long drawn out like it was with Osamu. You knew everything going on in his life, but you weren’t invested like you were in Osamu’s life.

And that little skip of your heartbeat never went away. In fact, it became more frequent. Whenever Osamu’s voice would first ring through your phone, your heart would jump, and your smile was automatic. His laugh would make you grin, and talking to him settled your nerves in a way no other person could.

It didn’t surprise you when a certain worry started sitting in your chest. A gnawing voice, low pitched but annoying, muttering in your head about how this was wrong, you should be feeling this way for your soulmate and not his fucking twin brother. You weren’t dense. You knew what a crush was. And you knew that these feelings were definitely indicating a crush. But you dismissed it as just Osamu being Atsumu’s twin. They were identical looking. So it was natural for you to like Osamu because he was so closely reminding you of your soulmate.

You tried to ignore the fact that your actual soulmate never made you feel this way.

Atsumu visited you often, maybe one weekend every month, which he would spend in your apartment. Your roommates would wiggle their eyebrows and make lewd, suggestive comments, saying something about how they should clear out for the weekend since you two would be getting loud and rowdy. It made you flush furiously, but you couldn’t exactly tell them nothing would happen.

You and Atsumu had yet to go all the way. The most you did was a makeout session that felt cold and distant. It was worrisome, it was a huge concern, but it was something neither of you talked about. You were comfortable with Atsumu. You would pig out on junk food, talk shit about old high school folks you both knew, he would whine about his teammates and you would fill him up on your share of university gossip, and then you two would fall asleep cuddled under your blankets. It was comforting, a slice of home, and so what if the thought of sex with Atsumu made you kind of uncomfortable and grossed out? It would pass. You were still young.

But then you would feel the butterflies burst to life in your stomach when Osamu called, you would watch his eyes through your phone screen, how every passing month made him look more like a man and less like a boy. His dark eyes, just as calm as they were when you were kids, but now….. sultrier. More dreamy. Sometimes he would send you a morning selfie, still in bed, just above the neck but you could tell he was shirtless, and you would imagine waking up like that, with his shirtless body next to you. And you would wonder what his skin would feel like under your fingertips.

This was bad. This was so, so bad. But you couldn’t control it. All you could do was deny the existence of these feelings. Waking up every morning and convincing yourself that the man in your dreams was not him, but Atsumu. Though you knew. Deep down, you knew.

You didn’t go back to Hyogo after your first year. Your parents had traveled down to Tokyo and you spent a wonderful two weeks with them before the new term started, and while Osamu groaned and complained about how bad he wanted to see you, you were relieved. You couldn’t see him, not when your head was messed up with thoughts of him. Thoughts you should never, ever have. You wondered, now very often, what you would do if you saw him in your current state. How badly you would want to kiss him.

No. God. No.

Once Atsumu became a starter for the MSBY Black Jackals, he and Osamu decided to get an apartment together in Osaka, the team’s hometown. Osamu had freshly graduated, while you still had one year left. And as per her nature, your mother started hounding you to complete your final year in Osaka. She wanted you to move in with the Twins, and for the first time in a long time, you were on board with one of her wishes.

You had missed them both so much. And you yearned for the time you spent every single day with them. The thought of sharing a living space with them was extremely exciting, so when you ironed out the details of your university transfer, you were on the first train to Osaka.

Halfway through your ride, Atsumu texted that he couldn’t make it to the station (since your train had been delayed and he had an event for later that night), and you tried to digest the implication of his untimely absence.

Osamu would be picking you up.

You felt anxiety creep up on you at the thought, fiddling with your hands and biting severely at your bottom lip. Shockingly, you had not seen Osamu since graduation. Your parents had moved to Tokyo after your first term, since nothing was holding them in Hyogo anymore, so you spent your breaks with them. And between Osamu opening his own Onigiri Place and working on his uni courses, he never got the time to come down and visit you.

Fresh in your twenties, you were a different person now. Tokyo had truly changed you, given you new experiences, new friends, new opportunities. For a brief second, you worried how your reunion with Osamu would go. You two had talked nearly every day for three years, but surely seeing him in person would be different, right?

You were right.

You found him standing next to a pillar in the crowded station, trying to stay out of everybody’s way. It wasn’t hard to spot him, since he was so tall. He had grown, which was a given. You should’ve known, because Atsumu had grown too. But you didn’t expect it. And you also didn’t expect him to have…. bulked up so much.

You knew he hadn’t really played volleyball after high school, so he had decided to start going to a gym instead. Your mouth went dry as you saw the results of it now. Osamu was wearing a tight compression shirt that hugged him in all the right places, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, down to his slim waist. His hair, now dark, looked softer than ever before, and you felt the urge to feel it between your fingers. His focus was on his phone screen, so he didn’t notice your distant gawking. God, he was…. a specimen. Was he always like this? Had you never noticed?

You felt your knees wobble like a baby deer as you walked closer to him, watching as he finally looked up and his eyes met yours. Something zipped through you like hot current, and you felt your ears buzz.

“Hi.” You sounded breathless.

“Hey.” He replied, and you saw, in real time, his eyes run over you from head to toe, before quickly snapping back up to your face. You saw his ears warm at the thought of you catching him as he looked you over, and you felt something liquid hot churn in your stomach.

When you hugged him, you experienced the true change in his strength. His arms were steady, torso firm but warm, and he smelled so good. You shivered when you felt his face find home in the crook of your neck, and you feared he would feel your heart as it jumped around frantically in your chest, trying to beat out of your ribcage.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, and you were met up close with the wonderful, calm slate gray. You watched as his lips tilted up at the corners, as his cheeks twitched with that same, lazy smile.

“Missed ya.” He whispered.

“I-” Your eyes flickered, and you finally gave into your overwhelming urge, leaning forward only a few inches so your lips pressed firmly against his.

#miya osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu angst #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #haikyuu osamu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #soulmate au #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst

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lunajay33 · 11 months

Text

My Before❣️

Summary: You’ve been with Daryl since before the world ended and you were terrified to lose him, and others at the camp were confused on how you were together

•Masterlist•

Its been a few weeks since the world basically ended and now I was here at the quarry outside the city with Daryl and his brother Merle

I wouldn’t have made it with out Daryl, I’ve been by his side since we were kids and along the way we fell in love with each other, Merle never approved of me but that never stopped Daryl

I was sitting on a log outside our tent when I saw Daryl coming through the trees, I got up and ran over to him jumping into his arms, every time he left I was a ball of nerves

“You’re back! Are you okay, everything went fine?” I asked as I pulled back looking over him for any signs of a bite

“ ‘m fine sunshine, ya know I always come back to ya” he said as he sling his crossbow over his shoulder so he could hold my hand

Daryl wasn’t one for much pda which I was fine with I never wanted to push him but ever since the world went to shit he always took the opportunity to be close to me, but he still had that grumpy persona to everyone else

We walked over to where Lori and Amy were cooking and the others were scattered around talking or sharpening their weapons

He dropped off the line of squirrels he caught and we went back over to the log I was sitting on before

“Where’s Merle at?” He asked as he put his crossbow down

“Oh he went for a walk or something, said I was annoying him again” I said looking away

I knew Daryl had a complicated relationship with merle but I didn’t wanna be the reason he lost his brother

“He do somethin’ to ya?” He asked as he wrapped an arm around my waist

“No I promise he didn’t” I said as I laid my head on his shoulder

As we were talking I could see the others looking at us and whispering to themselves, I’ve caught them doing this before and quite honestly it bothered me

I looked back at Daryl and he was glaring at the others

“What do you think they’re saying about us?” I asked nervous

“Probably how a guy like me got such a beautiful girl” he smirked

“I’d say they’re probably saying the opposite, how I landed the man of everyone’s dreams” I laughed as his cheeks blushed red

“Nah sunshine yer the one everyone dreams of havin’ but it doesn’ matter anyways, yer mine forever now, ya can’t get rid of me” he said pulling me into a kiss

“You better stay with me then, never leave me, I can’t lose you Daryl, never I don’t know what I’d do if something happened” I said imagining a life without him made my lip quiver

“Hey don’t say that, I’m never leavin’ but if anythin’ ever happens ya have to promise yer gonna keep fightin’ for me” he said as he held my cheeks gently brushing away my tears with his thumbs

“I don’t know Daryl, you’re my whole world”

“Ya have to do that fer me…..please”

“Okay, I’ll try, but you know I’d thinking about you every minute of every day until I was back with you again right?”

“I know sunshine, I’ve been with ya since we were kids and I’ll stay by ya forever even if I’m not really there…I love ya”

“I love you too Daryl” I smiled as I rested my forehead against his

He’s been my constant all our lives and I’ll do anything to make sure we’re together forever

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*••*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Thanks everyone for all the support to my stories lately!! If you have any requests feel free to message me or comment

Likes and reposts are appreciated💞

#daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #twd fluff #twd rick #twd michonne #twd negan #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x you #daryl dixon x female reader

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 4 months

Text

weee another fantasy au snippet <3 a little shorter than usual cause that's what the scene is <3 shorter <3

Something is wrong with Wally.

It’s not serious, or at least Barnaby doesn’t think it is. If he didn’t pay such close attention to his buddy, he’d never know that anything was amiss at all - Wally has an excellent straight face. But not so excellent that Barnaby can’t read him.

There’s a different curve to his smile these days. It’s sort of pinched, sort of sad. It matches a look in his eyes that puts Barnaby on edge, if only because that deep, dark pensiveness is so wildly out of place on Wally’s soft face.

It scares him. Something is off.

What is it?

Barnaby taps his claws on his middle as he stares at the tent roof, thin enough that firelight from outside bleeds through. Despite the late hour, his eyelids feel magicked open. The other side of the tent yawns empty, and that is precisely the source of Barnaby’s insomnia.

Everyone is asleep except for two - and Barnaby is only awake because of one.

With a deep sigh through the nose, Barnaby sits up and clambers out of the tent. He shivers as he stands up and crosses his arms, rubbing at his fur. The night sky is clear, but the breeze cuts him through to the bone. It isn’t even winter yet, sheesh…

The campfire casts a fuzzy outline of red-orange around Wally. He doesn’t turn away from the embers as Barnaby shuffles behind him, and Barnaby doesn’t have to look to know that he’s staring directly into the low flames. He tweaks Wally’s raised hood as he passes, just to make sure Wally knows he isn’t alone anymore. He spaces out, sometimes.

“Can’t sleep?” Barnaby asks as he takes the log next to Wally’s rock of choice. Wally just hums, and Barnaby frowns.

There’s that look again.

With how Wally is perched, his legs drawn up and arms folded on his knees, his smile is hidden. It’s unsettling. Barnaby scans Wally from the corner of his eye, taking in the tension in his shoulders and the nearly invisible pinch of his nonexistent brows.

“Yeah, me neither,” Barnaby says. Another breeze, another shudder, and a quick glare at the stars.

Should he press? The obvious answer is absolutely not, but… Barnaby isn’t sure how much of this - thisness he can take. He has no idea what to call it. A mood? It’s too serious to be considered a mood. All Barnaby knows is that when Wally is like this, something itches under his skin.

Tonight would be a perfect opportunity to ask. Everyone else is fast asleep. Wally isn’t putting up the fronts he usually does. The knowledge that this Wally, the Wally all covered up and curled in on himself, is as vulnerable as anyone will never see - it makes Barnaby want to reach.

“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging his knee against Wally’s boot, “I’m starting to worry for the fire with how you’re glarin’ at the thing. What, did it emberass ya? Give ya the coal shoulder?”

Wally doesn't laugh, but his gaze softens. Barnaby curses himself.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with glarin' - I’m sure the fire deserves it,” Barnaby is quick to add. “But really… is everything alright, kid?”

“Yes,” Wally says, but it rings like an untruth. It's just something he’s saying because it’s what he always says. Everything is always fine with Wally.

“You know you don’t gotta pretend with me. There’s somethin’ bothering you, I can tell.” Too far, too much, Barnaby is sure. He shouldn’t be so pushy.

But instead of clamming up, Wally’s eyes flicker down and away, guilty. The bloodhound in Barnaby perks up its ears. It’s all he can do not to point and shout AHA!, because that would assure that Wally would put up the same masks around him that he does with everything else. Vindication wars with his concern, as if he thought he might have been imagining the funks Wally has been slipping into.

Those too-long periods of silence that no one notices because Wally isn’t much of a talker. Moments of utter stillness that no one notices because Wally is always so stationary. The way he doesn’t drink in every new thing with a hunger like he usually does, as if Wally has been starving his whole life.

Those passing glances where his pupils seem too big, the blackness of them infinitely deep as if someone could fall into them. Maybe Wally is. Barnaby doesn’t want him to.

“You don’t gotta say a word,” Barnaby says, wishing the campfire log was just a smidge closer to the rock. “I just want ya to know that I see you, and I’m here. Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head ‘a yours, I’ll be right there for whatever you need. I got your back, Walls.”

Wally’s smile peeks over his arms for a moment - he always has liked being called pretty, or handsome, you name it. Barnaby preens over being able to coax him even the slightest bit out of the pit he’s slowly spiraling into. He’s winning big at the whole ‘best friend’ thing, Barnaby thinks - a complete natural.

For a long while, Barnaby doesn’t care to keep track, they sit in companionable silence. The fire cracks and pops when Barnaby adds a chunk of wood to it, coaxing it into a flame that actually takes the bite out of the breeze. Crickets chirp in the forest around them - something howls far away.

The tension doesn’t leave Wally. In fact the longer they sit, the worse it gets. Barnaby keeps his mouth shut and eyes on the fire, the woods, the stars - anywhere except Wally. It’s the kind of tension that makes him suspect that Wally is gearing up to speak. Sometimes it feels like there’s a sinkhole of silence that opens up whenever Wally has something of his own to say.

Reviving the fire was either a smart move, or a dumb one. It depends on how quickly Wally thinks of how to share. Without the brisk chill of night keeping Barnaby fresh-faced, sleep is finally starting to sink into him with the fire’s warmth. He briefly considers sneaking into Howdy and Sally’s tent to sneak an energy potion from Howdy’s pack. Pros, he’ll certainly be awake for Wally. Cons, he’ll be awake long past Wally’s spiel, Howdy will have a fit over missing an item, and Sally will have a bigger fit over Barnaby sneaking into her tent when he inevitably comes clean. Also, the potions don’t taste great. Or maybe he should fetch his pipe-

“I think. I don’t…”

For a second, Barnaby misses that Wally spoke at all. He double-takes when the half sentence registers, casting a quick look to Wally. Okay, no, don’t do that. Focus on the fire. Be casual - give him space. Barnaby nonchalantly pokes the coals with the fire stick.

Wally sighs - such a small sound that the crickets almost drown it out. But Barnaby has big ears, and they perk up. When does Wally ever sound frustrated? Curse him, but Barnaby finds it novel. Wally shifts on the rock, curling up impossibly tighter and turning his head away. Barnaby watches the back of his hood.

“I don’t think I’m a good person,” Wally admits in the smallest, deadest voice Barnaby has ever heard.

“What?” Barnaby says, or he means to. The air in his throat doesn’t quite form sound. He turns to Wally and clenches his paws on his knees to keep from reaching, floundering for words.

How could he - why would he - who told him that he -

“What do you mean?” Barnaby says, a disbelieving chuckle slipping out. “Wally, kid - you’re the best guy I know. You’re my best guy. Out of all the ways I could describe you, a bad person isn’t one of ‘em.”

Wally whips his head around, his eyes flashing - Barnaby tenses his entire body to keep from recoiling, though he can’t keep his eyes from widening.

For a second there he thought… he thought he saw… it must have been the firelight reflecting in Wally’s dark eyes.

Wally’s intense gaze pierces straight into Barnaby’s soul. He feels flayed raw and seen in a way that makes him want to run. But there’s something else. Something scared. Wally is searching for something, and Barnaby doesn’t know what or how to give it to him. His claws splinter bark.

As soon as it appeared, the look fades. Barnaby can take deep breaths again, and he lets go of the log. Wally blinks slowly and lets his sleepy gaze slide back to the fire. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Barnaby carefully lays a paw on Wally’s back. “You’re a good person, Wally. I don’t know who told you otherwise, but don’t listen to ‘em. You’re a fantastic friend, an even better best friend, and I gotta say - you make a pretty bang-up wizard. You’re the most.”

“I’m the most?” Wally murmurs, sounding surprised. He makes a sound that might be a laugh, might be a scoff. “No… you’re the most.”

“Tell ya what- we’re both the most.”

Wally casts him a sideways look, but doesn’t protest further. He hums.

“C’mon, lil’ wizard,” Barnaby says with a pat to his back, “let’s give the fire a break and turn in for the night.”

Just as he was starting to relax, Wally shies away from his touch, curling up like one of those shelled bugs Frank likes so much. “I think I’ll stay up a little longer.”

Barnaby swallows down the hurt and pulls away. “Alrighty. Don’t stay up too late - we got a day tomorrow.”

“Ha. I know.”

With that, Barnaby stands. He gently squeezes Wally’s nape through the hood as he passes, and breathes a silent sigh of relief at how Wally leans into the touch.

All’s forgiven. Though he isn’t sure what for… whatever Barnaby said or did wrong, he’s just glad Wally doesn't mind.

Barnaby clambers into the tent and another shiver ripples through his fur. All the darn heat leeched out of it... He wraps himself in his thin, too-small blanket and shivers as hard as he can manage to generate some kind of warmth. It’ll heat up soon, he just has to wait. Wally usually casts a little sun spell on cold nights, but Barnaby can do without. Even if the tent gets comfortably warm, Barnaby isn’t sure if he’ll sleep.

Wally didn’t believe him.

And Barnaby doesn’t know how to make him believe.

How could he think that he isn’t a good person? Barnaby meant what he said - Wally is the best person he knows. Wally is kind, patient, and just - just - him. There isn’t a single bad thing about him. Barnaby is so proud to call him his best friend.

There has to be something that started this. A moment that made Wally doubt himself. Did someone say something? Not anyone in the Neighborhood, they all love Wally to pieces. He’s their wizard! He’s saved their lives and countless others, and their group simply wouldn’t be complete without him. He rounds them off with an artsy flourish.

So. There’s no reason that Wally should be feeling like this. But that look in his eyes… the guilt… there’s something else going on. Something deeper than just ‘I’m scared I’m a bad person.’

Something is wrong.

Firelight flickers outside the tent, and Barnaby watches it until it goes dark.

#just a lil nighttime conversation...#in my mind wally let the fire die and then Immediately ran off into the forest for home time™️#this au is so fun bc i really get to have fun with giving wally Extreme Guilt For Existing #and also to play around with him being Unintentionally Sinister on occasion #i hope its obvious that this is pre everyone-knows-about-home era <3 #snippets from the bog #wh fantasy au #one of these days ill write a snippet centered on someone else...#i do have one in mind for frank & julie...#well. Multiple in mind for frank & julie #them <3<3<3<3

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otomehoneyybearr · 5 months

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Act 12

Episode 3: Reassuring Companions

Working w/ Maybelle Lace

Note: As you read, you will see that some sentences highlighted in a different color, this is what they indicate.

Pink: Flashback

Blue: Characters are acting

𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍

Syu: You’re being quite thorough, making us come to a restaurant during afterhours. We could’ve just met in your office you know?

Reni: The office has been busy lately with discussions about plays and other things. Troupe members and writers often come in as well, so it’s not secure.

Syu: That’s pretty impressive.

Reni: Anyway, let’s organize all the information we’ve gathered.

Zen: Before that, you should fill your stomachs first.

Syu: Isn’t it past the orders cut-off time?

Zen: Today’s an exception.

….

Syu: Phew… Thanks for the food.

Reni: Sorry to make you do this so late.

Zen: I’ll just add it to the service charge.

Yuzo: Yo

Kasumi: Good work today.

Hiro: The heck? Only they get to eat?

Reni: Why are you all…

Syu: I called them.

Reni: What?

Kasumi: I was recording my show earlier today and Hiro came on as a guest.

Hiro: And as if the timing couldn’t be more perfect, I got a call from Yuzo.

Yuzo: Since you guys were going out to drink anyway, I thought I’d join in.

Syu: And I guess that’s when I had called. Anyway, it’s good that we all gathered here so quickly.

Yuzo: You guys were already here. Are we just extras or somethin’?

Reni: It’s a bit of an important discussion. I was going to tell you all when I got everything together.

Syu: Might as well talk about it to all of us at once, that way it’s less complicated, right?

Reni: Haa… I guess there’s no way around it.

Hiro: Is this important conversation about bringing Yukio back to Japan?

Reni: Yes. Given the nature of the other party, I had no choice but to move with caution.

Reni: During the second act-off between the God Troupe and Mankai Company, someone sent a copy of Tsuzuru Minagi’s script to Kusumi Ikaruga and encouraged him to plagiarize it.

Reni: Furthermore, that person had sent people to attack the members of Mankai Company as they headed to the God Theater the day of the act-off.

Zen: Those must’ve been the guys Banri and I fought against.

Reni: When I questioned Kusumi, he denied involvement with the latter incident, but confessed the name of the former’s perpetrator.

Reni: Moreover, it’s not the first time this person’s done something like this, as they’ve also had someone plagiarized Hakkaku Ikaruga, once before.

Hiro: No way, THAT plagiarism…?

Reni: Kashima knows about this.

Yuzo: It was his son, Kusumi, who plagiarized Hakkaku’s script.

Yuzo: Yukio decided to protect the theater company on the condition that he’d take full responsibility for the plagiarism and leave the theater world.

Yuzo: Its thanks to him that Mankai Company still exists and is eligible for the Fleur Award.

Hiro: I see… So, he did it to protect the company…

Yuzo: Yukio must have thought about Hakkaku's feelings of wanting to protect his son, Kusumi, so the truth of the plagiarism was never made public.

Zen: So who was the person who urged Kusumi to plagiarize on both occasions?

Yuzo: I’m not sure. Yukio didn’t elaborate on it.

Reni: … Keiju Amadate. He’s the head of the Hyakka Troupe, to which Kusumi was once a scriptwriter for.

Kasumi: The Hyakka Troupe?!

Yuzo: Isn’t he also a member of the Board of Directors?

Zen: So he would have the money and power to do something so bold…

Reni: At the time of the first plagiarism scandal, apparently it was Amadate who suggest Yukio to leave the theater world for the sake of Hakkaku and the theater company.

Reni: He promised that if Yukio did so, the truth about the plagiarism would never be exposed.

Hiro: It was more of a threat to stay silent and withdraw from the theater world than a promise.

Zen: Even though he’s the one who tempted Kusumi into doing this.

Kasumi: Kusumi was working for the Hyakka troupe, so why put the blame on Mankai Company…?

Reni: It was Amadate’s plan.

Reni: Mankai Company would’ve been put at a disadvantage had it been brought to light.

Yuzo: If we made one wrong move, it would’ve been Hakkaku being blamed for plagiarism instead of Kusumi.

Syu: Even if they were to go to court, it’d just cause tension between the parent and child, and Hakkaku would’ve had a rough time with that.

Zen: Did Hakkaku know about this?

Reni: Yes, but he didn’t know the details. The only thing he was aware of was that Kusumi had plagiarized.

Reni: Though, there’s a chance he vaguely knew that Tachibana took the blame for all of it.

Reni: Anyway, for some reason Amadate harbors strong animosity and hatred towards Yukio and the Mankai Company.

Hiro: So, they tried setting up this new scandal after the success of the first one.

Zen: However, this attempt is different than the first's.

Zen: If we weren’t careful, there's a chance that both Kusumi and the God Troupe would have been denounced.

Reni: I thought so too. If the God Theater was targeted, it would have been a hindrance as a Fleur Award nominated theater company.

Kasumi: But, the Hyakka Troupe doesn't have to resort to such tricks, they're good enough to win the Fleur Award on their own merit.

Hiro: Even so, at the end of the day, it's all up to the consensus of the Board of Directors that decides. It isn’t surprising that they’d try to nip any sort of competition in the bud.

Zen: Even if they’re only able to take down Mankai Company instead of the God Troupe, it’d still be more than enough for them.

Yuzo: Are the other members of the Board are unaware of this?

Reni: It’s no exaggeration to say that Amadate has almost complete control over the Board of Directors, even though he holds a mid-level position.

Syu: All the members of the Board of Directors have become watered down.

Yuzo: They ain't bad people, though.

Reni: That's how good Keiju Amadate is at gaining control over people's hearts. And there’s no doubt that he’s a man who will go through any means to an end.

Reni: Because of such a situation, I decided it was necessary to get inside the Board of Directors that Amadate was in control of.

Yuzo: Hey, it's not that easy to get inside...

Reni: Of course not.

Reni: But when I talked with the Chairman through a personal connection, it seems that he had been feeling uneasy about Amadate's movements for a long time.

Reni: After promising to side with the Chairman, I was added to the Board of Directors as a candidate on the Chairman's recommendation.

Reni: I need to grab Amadate by the tail and expose everything he's done up until now before he completely rots the Board of Directors council.

Kasumi: But if you become a board member, wouldn’t it be difficult for the God Troupe to be nominated?

Kasumi: The Hyakka Troupe is top class in Japan both in name and recognition, so if they don't get nominated, it'd be suspicious...

Hiro: Board members would be suspected of collusion if the nominated theater companies were related to them.

Syu: It's funny how the president of the Hyakka Theater is so sincere in this aspect, even though he’s so sinister.

Yuzo: You gonna be alright Reni?

Reni: What a foolish question. Just like Hyakka, my theater is recognized well enough that the public would think it strange if it wasn’t nominated.

Kasumi: So true~ .

Hiro: If you're prepared to do all of this, then I'll do my best to help.

Kasumi: I also have to pay back Yukio.

Zen: And we should also send Amadate our regards for all that he did to us.

Yuzo: So, what's your next move?

Syu: I'm trying to contact people within Hyakka Theater Company without being noticed by Amadate.

Syu: I’ll just be giving a progress report today.

Kasumi: How are things going Syu?!

Syu: Well… The more I investigated, the more I realized how tightly Amadate controls all the members in the theater.

Syu: But just when I thought I was out of luck, I received an anonymous email. –Look.

Syu: “Man was born for love and revolution. – K”

Kasumi: K reminds of Natsume Soseki’s novel, Kokoro.

Zen: The quote’s by Dazai Osamu though.

Syu: Based on the address, it looks like they from the Hyakka Troupe.

Syu: However, it’s possible that this is a trap set up by Amadate, so I’ve held off on replying.

Syu: But, sitting around doing nothing won’t help us. I can try reaching out to them if you want, Reiji.

Reni: Do as you’d like.

Yuzo: Syu, you called us over today to tell us something. Is there something else going on?

Syu: Right. I'm running out of information I can gather on my own through my contacts, so I’d like to ask you all for your help.

Hiro: In that case, I'll try to find for information in the entertainment industry from people that seem to have a close connection to Keiju Amadate.

Kasumi: Once we get enough material to corner Amadate, I can collaborate with Nadeshiko Publishing to get it published in their weekly magazine.

Zen: There’s a performer here at Gentiana who came from Hyakka, although he goes by a different stage now.

Zen: He doesn't talk about his past much, but I'll try to ask him about his time at Hyakka and get as much information as I can.

Yuzo: What should I do then?

Kasumi: You can come babysit my daughters. They like you because you play a good monster.

Yuzo: That has nothing to do with Yukio's case!

Syu: Then I’ll get props for Yuzo’s wonderful performance

Hiro: You could be my bodyguard with that face—

Yuzo: Again, that has nothing to do with Yukio!

Reni: (How reassuring it is, to have companions like this...)

Reni: (We need to get Yukio back as soon as possible. Everyone’s waiting for him.)

𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍

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#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! translation #a3! act 12 translation #sakuya sakuma #a3! act 12

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tragic-shadows · 1 year

Note

Can I get a fic using 7. " She had a way of making you see things differently" and 39. "You tell me how it’s your fault and I’ll tell you how you’re wrong"

Title: Mourning Period

Word Count: 1471

Warnings: Thoughts of suicide/drinking (!!! also major spoilers for anyone who hasn't watched judgement day part 1/2 !!!)

Pairings: GibbsxReader, (past GibbsxJenny)

A/N: for purposes of causing the most pain possible, let's just pretend diane and macy were dead before all of this.

He didn't know what to do, his brain was spinning in circles as he stepped around the room. He didn't dare touch anything, didn't dare breathe too hard for fear of his own scent overpowering hers. Her jacket was still draped over the bak of her chair, the fabric was soft between his fingers as he ran his hands over them. It had been a week. 7 days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds. Vance was moving in his stuff tomorrow. He hadn't let him sit in the chair, or at the desk, just at the conference table.

He also couldn't sit. At least not on the furniture. He found a corner beside the liquor cabinet that seemed suitable enough. Liquor and guns never mixed, and yet at the moment he had both. One in one hand and one in the other. Both of them were targeted for his head. He chose the drink first, keeping the gun close, just in case the alcohol didn't work. He drowned himself in the memories and the feelings and the touches. All the stolen glances and conversations that went on longer than they should have. All the knowing smiles and unknowing ones too. He never really loved any of his wives after Shannon. But he loved Jenny Shepard. He had always loved her, and he always would.

"Gibbs, breathe." You handed him a glass of water. You had come back to the office late to drop off a small box of Jenny's things that she had left at your apartment. Her house had had to be fumigated about a year ago and she had never gotten around to picking them up. The funeral was today and you figured it was time. While you were in the office, you spotted your boss sitting in the corner on the floor, a bottle and a half of scotch completely gone. "It's ok, it's gonna be ok." Now you were sitting next to him, the alcohol far out of reach, instead a glass of water and two aspirin took its place. You had also noticed his service weapon tucked in his lap, unloaded, the magazine sitting on the table in front of you. You didn't want to think about why he had it, so instead you focused your attention on him.

"I miss 'er," he slurred, head against the wall. "Loved 'er."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Mhm. She was erey' thing. Franks told me she still had feelin's. Shoulda been there. Shoulda saved 'er. Not Tony or Ziver's fault. My fault."

You sighed, reaching over to take his hand to stop him shaking. "You tell me how it's your fault and I'll tell you how you're wrong."

"My fault cause I shoulda told 'er I felt the same. Never stopped lovin' Jenny."

"I know. She was my best friend, I know."

"She ever talk 'bout me? Did ya' know?"

You gulped. She had, quite a lot actually, but you weren't sure if that was going to help the situation or make it worse. You tapped your glass a few times, thinking, before you answered. "She did. Sometimes she complained about how you never listened, but then she would tell some story and you were always the part she smiled at."

"Shoulda' told her."

"She knew."

"Then why the hell didn't she do somethin' 'bout it?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't."

You watched the way he stared at her desk. You had seen that look often, when he stared at Ziva's desk. Even though she was a great addition to the team, he missed Kate. It was also the same look he got on a single day of the year, the day Shannon and Kelly had been killed. He had loved and lost so many times you weren't sure if there was any love left for him to give.

"What was she like?" You asked. "Before I met her, before I met you. Paris."

"She had a way of making ya' see things different. We could be lookin' at a case file, I got one idea and she always had the right one. Not even that, jus' any situation she could turn 'round. I's half empty, she'd always be half full."

"What happened between you two?"

"She left." He stated plainly. The drinks had certainly gone to his head and part of you felt like asking him questions that he wouldn't like sober was wrong, but you needed him to talk. He needed to talk. He wanted to talk. "Didn't fit into her picture perfect plan. Too many loose ends, a liability." He finally knocked back the pain medicine you had set down for him.

"Is that what you think you are? A liability?"

"Why ya' ask that?"

You shrug. "I figure a self respecting, half-decent, Marine doesn't drink himself silly with a gun sitting three feet away unless he plans do to something to himself."

"Not gonna do anythin'."

"You know, for someone who's a great interrogator, you're not very good at lying." You gently laid your head on his shoulder. "Why do you think you're not good enough? I see it in your eyes all the time. When you're bossing us around, you seem like the biggest guy out there; when you sit at your desk and just look at us all, being silent Gibbs, you look like you're thinking. Like you're afraid to say the wrong thing. You don't believe in yourself."

"Everyone I love dies, Y/N. Everyone that loves me is dead."

"And why do you think that?"

"Shannon, Kelly, Kate, Diane, Macy, now Jenny?"

"You think those are the only people that love you? What about our team? Abby, Ziva? Me?"

"Don't love me like they did. Not like Jen. Miss 'er."

"I miss her too."

"Why didn't ya' save her?"

You had momentarily forgotten the fact that he was drunk and probably suicidal but the question made you realize just how much he was hurting right now. It was true, it was your fault. Well- not really your fault, you had agreed with Ziva but Tony had insisted that everything was fine and the Director could take care of herself. You shook yourself out of your head and went back to Gibbs. "You need to get home, or at least off the floor." You put his arm over your shoulder, doing your best to lift him off the ground. You made it a few steps over to the couch and helped him down. "I'll stay if you want me to. If you'd rather be alone.." You bit your lip, not really liking the idea of leaving him alone in this state. Before you could stay, a single word slipped from his lips.

"Stay."

"Ok.." You grabbed a blanket from the bottom drawer in Jenny's desk, draping it over the both of you. You wanted tea but that would mean leaving the room, and Gibbs. You counted the seconds as the clocked ticked and ticked and ticked.

The next time you looked over, his eyes were closed and his breathing had steadied. You were sore for sitting for so long and you decided getting yourself a cup of coffee would be helpful. You stood up and took a few steps but before you could get past him, he snagged the hem of your shirt.

"Huh?" You turned around.

"Wanna talk."

You nodded, understanding. "I'm going to use the restroom and get some water. You want water or a coffee?"

"Coffee. Black."

"Ok. I'll be back." You patted your hip to make sure his gun was still there next to your own.

The office was dark. Even the janitors had gone home and there was no flashlight of any of the night officers to be seen. The only light was that from the vending machines. You filled up his cup with coffee and yours with water and grabbed you each a chocolate bar. You took your time walking back upstairs, just trying to give your boss some space. You missed Jenny like hell but you had a different way of dealing with it. Instead of crying about it, you blocked it out. You clicked open the door, expecting to see Gibbs in the chair. Instead, he was curled up on the couch reading a magazine.

"You look better," you say.

"Just because I look better doesn't mean I am."

"Here." You hand him the coffee and situated yourself on the couch next to him. "I'm gonna get some sleep if you don't mind. Jenny always let me sleep on her couch when I didn't want to go home. You can stay if you want."

"Yeah."

You stayed like that for a minute or two in awkward silence when you felt tears welling at your eyes. You hadn't cried when Jenny was shot, you hadn't cried at the funeral earlier today, you couldn't remember the last time you cried, and yet here you were. About to cry. Crying. "Gibbs." you whisper. Nothing else needed to be said.

He pulled you down on the couch next to him and let you lay down, your head on his chest and his arm around you. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. If you didn't have each other, you weren't really sure what either of you would do. "Thank you, Y/N. Need you right now."

"I think…" you trail off, "I think I need you too."

TAGS:

@aleck-cross @ah-blossom @ilovemark1951 @marennnx @originalsoulcollector @hotchmeeeeeuppppp @kittenlittle24 @twilightlover2007 @whoreforhondo @pinkcrystal44 @marvelslut16multistangirl07 @alexxavicryry @leroyjethrogibbsgirlrl @hobbsy27-blog

#ncis x reader #ncis #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #jibbs #grief/mourning

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unicornsaures · 23 days

Text

yapping about the outsiders x amrev

Okay so first off, not replacing any characters, obviously. Im thinking the aides are their own seperate little group that just hang around one another. Not an actual gang like the shepard gang but more how the main characters run; just a group thats independent, but willing to stick up for one another. Ive decided that if i ever do something with this god forsaken AU its genuinely just gonna be mostly seperate from the main plot because none of the aides themselves would be socs and so the plot wouldnt even be relevant until the very end.(I have been thinking of making Lafayette a soc or something. Just for the fuck of it to test some limits to hamilton, laurens, and laf's friendship with the whole bob thing ehe!)

But for the sake of this AU, theyre all aged into their 20s except for Washington. Its just easier than having 60 year olds street fighting.

Right, so characters! I havent thought much on other aides BUT i have thought VERY heavily on Laurens and Hamilton, obviously. So, starting with Laurens. Hes literally the same. Hes just as impulsive as he is during his time period if not worse. Hes given more opportunities to fight and he takes every. single. one. I would say hes similar to Dally but really he isnt. He'll get in a fistfight every week or so but nothing serious enough he ends up in jail. His relationship with HL is kind if rocky, too. They moved from SC to fucking oklahoma and John is not too happy about the move, for one, and his father isnt happy that Laurens turned into a 'hood.' Mainly, he just wont sleep at his own house. He'll crash at Meade's place or maybe Hamilton's run down, abandoned little house if he has to. HL isnt abusive or anything he just doesnt like living with so many siblings while his father goes on and on about how hes a bad influence. Not helping that he has a new bruise or cut every time he vists but i digress, John is basically a 'watered down' dally.

Righttt, Hamilton! Yeah, born in NYC, mom died, got too expensive, so he moved to good ol Oklahoma without his dad. I may just say he works at DX with Soda and whatnot because while the aides arent needed for the plot, i want them to feel a lil somethin somethin when everything goes down in the book and having a relation to both Soda and Steve would at least make Hamilton feel a bit bad and maybe even convince him to fight in the rumble at the end. Laurens and him arent really officially dating either. Theyre technically exclusive, but they never really talked about it and kind of just say theyre there to keep each other in check. Neither of them really want to confront any of their emotions towards anything so they settle for hamilton lovingly scolding laurens every time he gets in a fight and sharing 'no homo' kisses. Yeah and he lives in this run down house that he doesnt pay for and he has to drop by Meade's place whenever cops come searching for anyone living in there because i need him to be a little bit pathetic.

The rest of the aides are primarily undecided, if im being honest. Meade's parents are still alive from what I know and the other aides either stay at their own house or crash at Meade's, but Laurens is usually taking up the couch on most nights as does Hamilton. Most of the other aides arent big fighters really, theyre just trying to make it through college/day to day jobs. Washington kind of watches over all of them, like an unofficial father to their lil gang. They just hang around him and he frequently scolds them all for misbehaving. Hes like darry but older i guess. (Hes like, in his late 40's in this AU.)

Oh, and kinloch is there because i said so! If anything, he gives me major soc vibes and i primarily think he is why Laurens has such a knack for starting fights with socs for no reason. They were some weird ass situationship and they had an unofficial breakup that Laurens is still extremely salty over. Francis totally went for his neck during the rumble btw and they hate each other and laurens still tries to start fights with him whenever he sees him.

Though, Lafayette is also pretty undecided. I want him to be a greaser but at the same time i think him being a soc would test the limits of him and laurens' friendship while also he and hamilton's friendship. Laurens because obviously, francis. Hamilton because he saw how the socs affected soda, steve, etc and he feels bad for them, but also Lafayette would be dead set that Johnny is a murderer because he needs to stick up for the socs to stay loyal.

Now lets talk about the rumble! I think only some of the aides would get involved, really. Hamilton would because he saw how johnny affected steve and soda, Laurens because he just wants to fight, and the two dragged along Tilghman and Harrison because theyre strong enough to do some genuine damage. The rest of them just dont want to be involved in all of that and think its easier to just not get hurt.(Meade tags along but stands off to the side just to make sure no one gets seriously injured. He has change ready for a pay phone in case he needs to call up washington.)

Now, what i think would be interesting is their reaction to Dally's death. Im saying Laurens wouldve heard his name, as would all of the greasers, really. So their entire gang would know his name, but im mainly thinking about Laurens for this one because id like to think that he kind of looked up to him in some fucked up way? Not really looked up to, but more so respected. I feel like with Ham telling him about how Soda and Steve reacted and how they act at the DX afterwards would really fuck with him too and id like to think hed drop by the curtis house or some shit to say that he thought dally was a cool guy or something.

Yeah, anyway this is all pretty rough in terms of what the fuck im yapping about i just spat out every word that came to mind.

#alexander hamilton #john laurens #amrev #the outsiders #amrev x the outsiders #dolirants #oh i am MAD yapping #aide de camps #tw long post

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maple-the-awesome · 11 months

Text

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 27

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 4,779

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: GOODNIGHT AND GOOD MOURNING

Bucky counts two rings of the doorbell and six knocks. Second ring in case the first wasn't heard, six heavy knocks in case the doorbell might be broken, and yet despite this extra work, he never actually had any real expectations for the door to open on its own. Unfortunately, he gave up hope on that a few weeks ago.

Setting some bags down by his feet and cursing when they immediately tip over, he uses his new free hand to fish through his pocket, succeeding in not only finding his keys, but the correct one to unlock this blasted barrier before him.

Per usual, he's greeted with an eerily dark hallway that seems fitting for the start of a horror movie. Shuffling through the door with another curse as the same pesky bags get caught on the handle, he kicks it shut behind himself then calls out into the darkness as if it would reply, "Hey...It's me!"

Unfazed by the greeting of silence, he leaves his boots and coat there before making a b-line for the kitchen, pleased to leave all his grocery bags there to officially free himself of their incontinent weight. He goes to the fridge first, not to put anything away, but rather to grimace at the barren sight inside. Some condiments, a little bit of milk, veggies that look past their expiration date, and a half rack of beer…Good thing he went shopping.

Walking around the bar and into the living room, Bucky almost makes the mistake of going further which would've taken him right past the couch and, more importantly, the motionless lump lying there. When he does spot it in the corner of his eyes, he sighs - for some reason he still has a reason to sigh despite this having become a despairing routine as of lately.

Slowly, he steps over the few empty beer bottles on the floor and squats next to the couch where his frown only grows deeper as he pokes the lump, "It's past noon...You should get up and eat something - You need to get up and eat something."

He only gets a groan in response, but at least that's better than continued silence.

"I bought groceries. I can make something if you want?" Nothing, "...Or I can even order some take-out. Anything particular in mind?"

"...I don't want anything..."

Bucky inhales, although he tries not to make it sound so sharp. Standing upright and grabbing the empty bottles, he heads back into the kitchen, “...You’ll make yourself sick living off of beer alone, you know?”

"For your information, I had ramen yesterday."

"I'm proud of you," He's truly sincere, not that you'd believe that, "That means today, we can have something other than beer or ramen. Now, what do you feel like? I was thinking we could just do a simple, early dinner. I got some frozen pizza. Maybe we can have that and do a movie night or somethin' - just enjoy an easy going, lazy day. What do you say? I wouldn't mind another marathon of Lord of the Rings. You still keep the extended cuts under the TV stand, yeah?”

He’s rambling and normally, you find it enduring, however today - and for the last few weeks - his voice has been a distant echo in your head; nothing but a dull mumble against the terrible thoughts that overtake your care and concern. It makes you feel shitty in every way possible. Bucky visits every day without fail, armed with unlimited patience and kindness that he somehow manages to smother you in without actually smothering you (it’s been painfully obvious that he’s desperately trying to give you some space while still being present).

"Oh yeah, and I also got your favorite. They had it next to check-out. 'thought you'd like some," Even when a candy bar is waved in front of your face, your eyes barely shift to it before disappearing from sight when you curl further into your blanket sanctuary.

"...No thank you.”

Although his smile does wobble a bit into a frown, Bucky forces himself not to break; not here, not in front of you. He’d be an absolute hypocrite to complain, after all, it was him who spent several years moping which (unintentionally) dragged you into quite a lot of trouble. You pulled him from that hole, giving him the support he needed to move on from his past as hard as that had been. Now it’s his turn to return the favor.

Still - and he’s afraid he might be thinking selfishly with this, but there are days where he just wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and force you to go outside for once because the worry is eating away at him right now. It’s been weeks since the Snap - Well, five years for everyone else, but only a few measly weeks since the two of you had been thrown into this whirlwind of events that have left you both shaken.

It’s strange to think you can close your eyes and find out five years have passed. It’s even stranger to be thrown into a war for the universe immediately after, receiving no chance to process everything going on until you’re left with nothing. Natasha, Tony, Steve…The people who you cared for are gone and you never got to say goodbye - not in the way you wanted.

You were so damn happy, too. At long last, you had fixed your life, surrounded by people who were close to Hollie or at least understood that you were once her. No more pretending nor biting your tongue; you were free to just be you, both as Hollie and (Y/n). To think, you were actually excited for your future for the first time in, well, years - decades, even…then it all came tumbling down within mere minutes…Now you’re left with the shattered remains yet again and can’t help but ask yourself: how many more times? When will you have suffered enough?

"...(Y/n)...” Bucky breathes your name and you notice the crack behind his voice as he kneels down beside you, gently moving a strand of hair away from your face, “I’m not asking for you to be okay or to move on. I’m just asking that you take care of yourself a little better. You’re not eating, you haven’t left the apartment in days - I don’t even think you’re really sleeping either. I -...I’m getting really worried about you, darling…”

He has a point. You know he has a point because this isn’t the first time you’ve been here. If anything, you should be an expert on grief and recovery, having learned from experience that wallowing doesn’t bring anyone back…so why do you still feel like utter shit then? You should be a productive member of society, counting your blessings and moving on because you’re lucky enough to even be here. So many people have it worse than you. Bucky, for example. He lost Steve, too. He tries to brush it off, but you see the pain in his eyes. Steve didn’t die or anything. He just…left. He left both of you willingly despite the suffering you’ve already been cursed with…He abandoned you both with it and while you want to be happy for him and happy that he got to be with Peggy in the end as they both deserved…you can’t help feeling pissed…betrayed even…

Bucky has a right to be mad, too. He should have his own time to grieve for himself instead of being stuck in this dark apartment babying you. Even if he has already moved on (not that you’d believe it), that would be all the more reason for him to go live his life. Why does he keep fussing over you when he should be taking care of himself?

“I’m getting really worried about you, darling…”

…You wish you could make Bucky happy. You want him to be happy, having moved on from all those awful things HYDRA had done to the quiet, simple life he desires, yet selfishly at the same time, you don’t actually want to let him go. You’re stuck in this awful limbo where you want to throw in the towel and give up on everything you’ve worked so hard on throughout the years, after all, it sure didn’t take long to crumble around you, but at the same time, you’re so tired of feeling alone…You don’t want to go back to that life even if it means desperately grasping at strings and dragging poor Bucky down with you…

At long last you peek out from behind your blanket, lazily gazing up at the man in question. There was once a time when you would shamelessly swoon at the thought of having his affection and admittedly, you’re heart still flutters at hearing his concern for you, however after the Snap, you can’t help feeling numb inside as if your heart is covered in frozen ice that even Bucky can’t chip away…at least, that's what you had begun to believe until finally getting a good look at him.

Your heart speeds up so suddenly it makes a wave of nausea run over your entire body, making you feel a bit more awake than you had been before. For once you find energy for something and that's to wiggle your arm out from under the blankets, reaching until your fingers manage to touch the top of his head.

"...You cut your hair," You observe so stupidly, avoiding his eyes as you focus only on his new haircut which is quite the change. Yesterday he had his hair pulled back into a bun while complaining of the heat, however today, his long locks are gone, leaving a rather short yet soft fluff behind.

"Yeah...'got it done this morning," He slightly bows his head down towards you more, burning through all his willpower not to fully lean into your touch. He’s as cautious with his movements as he is in watching your expression and asking the question, “Do you like it…?”

You finally allow yourself to look at his face, your fingers just barely running along his cheek on their way to falling limb against the couch again. For a brief second anyone could miss, your lip quivers, but you do good to press it back the same way you blink away any tears threatening to make an appearance. Maybe Bucky notices, maybe he doesn’t.

"...It’s a good look on you,” You inhale, eyes drifting over his facial features to catch every detail because at this point you’ve abandoned all caution. You’ll accept in this moment that you’re being selfish and you’ll also decide not to care, “...You clean up nicely, Barnes. Who would’ve guessed?”

Bucky beams - quite literally, he beams with a boyish grin and glitter to his eyes after hearing you say something more akin to your usual self. Oh, how he’s missed your teasing. Sure, your voice is cracked and barely more than a whisper, but it’s progress he won’t object to. He also doesn’t object to you slowly sitting up while running a hand through your own messy air and sighing at your headache.

“So, um…A movie marathon, you said?”

“Unless you have anything else in mind?”

You press your lips, never letting the hand fall from your head. There’s a voice inside who tries to argue, reminding you that it’ll only end in more heartbreak if you try yet again to pick up the pieces of Hollie’s life, but God, it’s so damn difficult with Bucky’s adorable, hopeful smile. He’s attached to you even without understanding the truth. He cares for (Y/n), he worries about you…That’s supposed to be a good thing, right? You wanted that - wanted to know that he could love you as you, not as just Hollie, however there’s a side of you that doesn’t feel quite right about it for some reason…some reason you’ll ignore.

“...No. A movie night sounds fun…”

Baby steps - that’s what it took for you to start functioning again after Bucky’s supposed death seventy eight years ago; lots and lots of baby steps. Misery doesn’t disappear overnight which is a cruel truth that hasn’t changed between then and the modern era, although misery does fade overtime if you can successfully focus on the things you like and the things you still have.

You might not have your family to pull you out of this funk like last time, but at least you have Bucky (a bittersweet switch, if anything). He’s kept you distracted with different movies he wants to watch and recipes he’d like to bake. He’s always around, in fact you’ve already told him he can keep that spare key to your apartment because honestly, neither of you can remember that last time he’s actually stayed at his own.

Once you stopped stubbornly pushing him away, Bucky was allowed to bear witness to some of the demons that have been haunting your mind since the Snap. It’s safe to say you’ve done your fair share of crying in front of him, letting your frustrations slip as you curse Thanos and the universe and anyone who can possibly be linked to causing your current pain. You’ve expressed your anger with Steve, your sorrow over Natasha, and mourning for Tony.

You’re thankful that, no matter what sobs or curses have escaped you, Bucky has never filled the gap with unrealistic promises that everything will ‘be okay’. You’ve grown tired of hearing that from others, so it’s been refreshing to have someone instead hold you during your moments of vulnerability while promising that they’ll always be there for you when life gets rough.

Thanks largely to Bucky’s encouragement and support, you’ve gotten better. Not ‘better’ as in fully fixed, but ‘better’ as in you can find the strength to go on errands into town and ensure you’re maintaining a healthy diet again.

Life seems to have returned to a small sense of normal again, strongly reminding you of your stay in Romania which you had treasured so much. Coffee together in the mornings, afternoons discussing each other’s day, movie nights, and take-out dinner…It’s no wonder that your parents have inquired about your ‘boyfriend’. Your relationship sure seems to be leaning that way from the outside looking in (more than it ever has before) and, despite how desperately you try to ignore it, sometimes you find yourself drifting too far into the domestic bliss the same way you had in Romania, dangerously letting your guard down until you’re ripped back into reality by an unwanted and awful reminder…First it had been Steve appearing in your apartment those seven years ago, now this…

“You know…” Bucky’s voice easily gains your attention, earning a pleasant hum as you curl your head closer to his chest in acknowledgment.

It’s hot out today meaning the air conditioning’s been blasting with a box fan rumbling mere feet away, yet you’ve still filed no complaint towards cuddling close to his side on the couch while binging an entire season of The Office.

Despite your patience waiting for a response, it doesn’t come too promptly. Instead he awkwardly adjusts his arm around you and swallows before speaking, “...We should go out to dinner tomorrow night.”

You’re both blind and deaf to his shyness, merely perking an eyebrow without taking your eyes off the screen, “Why tomorrow? Are you on a diet that says you can’t eat dinner on Tuesday nights?”

Usually he’d chuckle at such a comment, and he nearly does, a short sound making it past his lips which he quickly bites back, “N-No, I mean, we’ll still eat dinner tonight obviously, I was just trying - I’d like to go somewhere nice together. Sit down dining, type deal.”

Finally understanding the hint, you become a bit nervous yourself, “How ‘nice’ are we exactly talking? Red Robins kinda nice or um…make a reservation nice?”

“Nicer than Red Robins…” He rubs the back of his neck with a shrug, although you don’t get a chance to voice your concerns because he skillfully spots them first, “Don’t worry about money or anything like that. I’ve been saving. I was thinking I’d treat ya’ - take you out to dinner someplace special for the evening…I promised after all.”

Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise when you push away from him so quickly that you almost fall off the couch. It would be one thing for you to just turn and look at him, however your movements are desperate as if his touch had suddenly burned you. The way you’re actually looking at him doesn’t help, either. You appear as if you’ve seen a ghost, face pale and eyes wild as you stare.

“W-When?”

“Huh -?”

“When did you promise that?” You whisper rather cautiously, only further confusing the poor man.

“In Wakanda? A week or so before you came there I promised that when we see each other again, I’d take you out to dinner - as a thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Bucky frowns, visibly concerned about your behavior, enough so that he hesitates to reach out to you, “Are you alright -?”

“- I…I don’t know if that’s a good idea…‘sounds kinda like a date, don’t you think?” You try to calm your heartbeat through deep yet casual breaths, even attempting a poor laugh at the end of your sentence, however it’s clear such struggling is useless; that damage has already been done.

Bucky bows his head in shame while slowly retracing his hand, “...Would a date be so bad?”

You open your mouth only to close it, fearing the nausea that bubbles within your stomach. This isn’t how you expected your reaction to be. You’ve been dreaming of this moment, desperately hoping for the day Bucky asks you out so that you can finally rekindle that relationship you once had and miss dearly. It would have to be by his own terms, you decided long ago, not wanting to push him by making the move yourself, however secretly, there has been another reason for waiting - a certain anxiety that has interested in relevance over these last nine years.

"The second I get back, I'm taking you out to dinner - a nice place, too, I've been saving.”

“Let me do this for you, Hollie. Eight o'clock sharp. Houghton's. I'd say wear something nice, but you look dazzling in anything."

It isn’t easy having lived two lives. It isn’t easy having the memories of a different person - although still you - who remains in pieces only inside your mind and personality. You’re Hollie. You’ve maintained certain traits of hers and you continue to love all that she had…but you’re also (Y/n). You don’t look the same and you endured a new childhood, in a new world, with a new family…While in your own eyes, you’d argue that this change is minimum, equivalent to the way a child changes into a teen and a teen into an adult, there’s has always been a fear hidden within your heart that others might not see the same.

What if someone who knew you then doesn’t like who you are now?

You were able to set that question aside for the others. Steve knew Hollie as a friend. You were close, although your interactions were limited and rarely were you alone. Frankly, you became closer during your time as (Y/n) when each other's support was needed more than ever. Tony knew Hollie as an aunt when he was very young. His image of you was built upon four years of vague memories with your care and support being at the forefront; that’s all he expected from (Y/n)...Neither of them truly compared to Bucky, a man who loved Hollie in more ways than one and got to know her best despite your short time together.

What if he doesn’t like who you are now?

Bucky loved Hollie - he still loves her. You saw her picture in his wallet once when he brought groceries over. You’re okay with that part alone, however you worried that if you immediately told him from the very beginning that you’re the same person as that girl in the photo - from that first day you found him in DC - would he have only loved you because of Hollie? Because the concept of being with you was his only chance of being with her again?

It’s ridiculous and foolish. You act jealous of yourself, although you honestly believed it to be in the best interest for both of you. You don’t want to exist solely as a living memory, not an individual, and you don’t think it would’ve been healthy for Bucky, either. He needed to love you for who you are now. He needed to move on in some way.

He has moved on. Hollie’s still kept close to his heart, yet he’s sitting here now asking for you. He’s spent months - no, years probably - loving you and looking to you as a means to finally be happy. This is exactly what you wanted…so why do you still feel so shitty inside?

"(Y/n)!”

You turn your head. You can tell by his eyes that Bucky didn’t mean to raise his voice, but at least it gained your attention at last. Cautiously, he reaches for you again, this time committing to the action. It’s only when the cold metal of his thumb runs along your cheek that you realize you’re crying.

“...It doesn’t have to be a date. We don’t even have to go. Don’t -...Don’t worry about it, alright? It’s not that big of a deal?” Oh, but it is. Bucky’s such a terrible liar. If it truly wasn’t a big deal, then why did his voice crack with a dejected undertone?

“I-I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I’m just…being emotional for no reason at all,” You huff mostly to yourself, miserably attempting to rub the tears away with the edges of your sleeves. Bucky has much better luck at it, carefully using his thumbs and palms to catch your tears. All the while, he searches your eyes for any sign of harm which almost makes you forget your sadness…almost…

Meeting his gaze, you move a hand of your own to his cheek, smiling softly, “I’d love to go on a date with you, James.”

“But -”

“- I’m afraid.”

His mouth snaps shut after your whisper and it takes him a second to meet it, equally as silent, “...Why?”

You don’t answer too promptly yourself. A keen eye would notice your hesitation as you heavily debate your next action, although you hide it well behind the admiration you seem almost drunk on while running your hand back into Bucky’s much shorter hair. For years you’ve bit your tongue and danced around your inner thoughts which has been a tiring endeavor for sure, enough so that in a moment like this, you’ve lost the willpower to keep the act up, choosing to instead speak directly from your heart regardless of the risk.

“...You’ve always been so good to me, James. ‘a real knight in shining armor…You know, I was so alone before I met you, not thinkin’ I’d ever find someone who could keep up with my nonsense. Others figured me to be crazy, that or they were intimidated by me being too ‘unique’, as my family put it. Whether I tried to change or not, it didn’t matter because if I wasn’t different to the world, I was different to myself. There was no winning and my displacement only seemed to grow with age. ‘started to believe the universe cursed me for some reason - that I must’ve done something terrible in my past or perhaps I was simply too happy at some point, leaving an overdrawn balance now…I didn’t want to do it anymore, but then you came around again. You gave me hope - meaning, even.

“I feel happy with you - very happy, as if I can breathe easy and just be myself without ever worrying about judgment again because as long as you like me, that’s all I need to know that I’m not crazy,” Bucky opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get a chance when you gently place a finger to his lips, “You mean sooo much to me, James, in fact I don’t think you’ll ever be able to truly understand the full extent of my love for you…and that’s what scares me. There’s…Well, there’s something I need to tell you, but I’m afraid that whenever I do, you’ll push me away. Whether it’s because you don’t believe me or you get mad at me -”

“- I could never get mad at you, darling -”

“- You say that now and I'm sure you believe it, but once you hear what I have to say, you might change your mind -”

“- I don’t think that’s possible -”

“- James -”

“- You said that I might not understand the extent of your love, but I don’t think you understand mine,” He interrupts more sternly, slowly grasping your wrist and lowering your hand over his heart. He holds it there and doesn’t let go, a hint of shyness in his eyes, “You mean a lot to me - you have meant a lot to me for a while now. Around you, I feel relaxed a-as if all those things HYDRA had done never happened. I start to think that I might actually deserve a happy life by your side and even if I don’t, then fuck it, I don’t find myself caring. I want to be with you anyways because every second that I’m not, I’m restless like a piece of me is gone…Being here with you, I…It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time…There’s nothing you could say to make it suddenly go away.”

You chuckle apprehensively with a shake of your head, letting your gaze finally fall from his, “...I bet I could…”

“I highly doubt it,” He rolls his eyes, leaning close enough for his own quiet laughter to be felt. You steal a glance at his lips, nearly giving into your own temptation to touch them, although you hesitate there instead.

“You don’t know -”

“- I don’t need to then -”

“- This is serious, James!” You plead weakly, trying to pull your hand from his and move off his lap where you just now notice he’s brought you, yet it should be of no surprise that he’s stronger than you and won’t let this matter drop so easily without resolve.

Your actions cause his concern to return and he becomes serious once again, his stormy eyes watching you so very carefully with his bottom lip puffed out in a pout, “...What’s really wrong, (Y/n)? I don't get it. You just said that you love me too and that must be true - I believe that it's true because, I mean, why else would you have stuck by my side after all the shit I’ve dragged you into? I-If I have to do more to prove my love for you, I will, if that’s what has you so worried - Or if you’re not ready for a relationship yet, that’s fine, too. Just…tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it. No more beatin’ around the bush…Please, darling…”

Suddenly, your eyes feel so stern watching him despite the tears that fill them as you slightly bow your head in what you would deem as shame, although he might mistake it for anger given how persistent and strange you’re behaving. He’s all ears, though. Maybe slightly taken aback by your vulnerable speech, but this isn’t the first time you’ve expressed your inner thoughts with him since the Snap and he’s here to listen without judgment as he’s always been. He just hopes he didn’t make you uncomfortable by overstepping.

Usually you're the one to make him flustered. He thought all of your prior flirting meant he was safe to ask you out, however he’s now starting to second guess all of that. He hasn’t dated since Hollie, after all. He’s been out of the game for so long, it’s completely possible that he read the situation wrong. Then again, you just admitted to loving him, so what’s stopping you? You had assured long ago that you have no actual fiancé, he's certain you aren't dating anyone else at the moment, and you've both gone in public countless times together, so surely you aren't ashamed to be seen with him even despite his muddy past. Is it too soon after the Snap? Are you just not ready for commitment? Why are you suddenly acting so hesitant as if you haven't spent the last several years longing for each other?

"...Bucky," He shallows somewhat nervously when you whisper his name, meeting eyes once again, "...I'm Holiday Stark..."

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

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errielovesu · 1 month

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Too sweet

chapter 1 of my first oc fanfiction, please be nice to be I cringe too don't worry, be sure to read the prologue for some extra context or something and yeah enjoy :3 (not proof read im too lazy)

cw/tw: none as of now

Besides beer himeno is a sucker for strawberry milk and maybe banana milk, usually one or the other is in stock but this time had to be my lucky day when none of them are in stock and now i'm not sure what i'm going to fill the fridge with now since we can't just only have beer in there, frustrated I head to the checkout counter and pay for the pain au chocolat that i've always had since I was a child, casually I walk myself back to me and himeno’s apartment, it's around 10 am and she's probably still asleep.

Yesterday everyone in division 4 went out for drinks, rare thing now a days but himeno wanted an excuse to not drink alone or with me since apparently, lately i've just been quiet maybe that's why himeno took me out to drink, it was nothing out the ordinary just so light drinking for me and just having mindless conversation with the other members. As I approach the elevator to get up to my floor I spot a familiar face. “Val-len-tine!!!” Power’s voice echoes through the lobby as she runs at full speed towards my direction she quickly gets ahold of my arm and squeezes me, clear that someone did not want to cook breakfast for the hungry girl, Denji approaches with caution since Power dislikes him talking to me, “Hey valentine, the evil man over there told us no breakfast from him because me and power stayed up playing cards and he couldn’t get his beauty sleep” denji exclaims, looking into powers eye she nods and points at the tall “evil” man that did not cook them a breakfast, I walk towards him as he looks anywhere but my direction.

“Hey aki..” I poke him on the shoulder, “did you not get your beauty sleeep?” I continue the joke, still not even a look from the man, power snarks at him, “Lets just go up to your apartment and you can make me a delicious breakfast, i'm starving hereeeeeeeee” power squeals, I sigh and nod in agreement, “You're welcome to join too by the way aki…ill let you use the balcony, yeah?” usually I wouldn’t dare let him near the balcony or himeno, I told them if they needed to smoke to do it somewhere else because I couldn’t stand my plants dying, aki looks back, making eye contact with me then power, he slowly starts walking towards the elevator, “I think I just convinced him to stop being evil power” I chuckle.

Opening the door to the apartment, denji and power scurry like rats into the couch and bean bag in the living room, I set my bag down at the kitchen and head to wake up the sleeping himeno herself, knocking softly on the door I call out her name and after a few russels and groans she's up, “You better wear something to cover yourself or no food for you” knowing she will not obey my instruction she walks out in whatever she passed out with. The tv is on, the apartment is loud and warm. “Powers plate is on the left, the rest of you can sit wherever you want” I slightly demand with my voice, everyone surrounds the table and aki is nowhere to be found but of course one glance to the right and he is right on the balcony just admiring the totally interesting sky, I get up from my seat and walk over to the sliding doors that enclose the balcony, sliding them gently and stepping over and sliding the door shut behind me. “I did your job, could you finish now and have something to eat?” He glances my direction, I can barely look at him because its so bright outside, squinting my eyes I ask him to come in, he throws the cigarette out the window, “before you sit down though, can you wash your hands? I can barely stand the smell on himeno when we eat I don't need you to add on to her please” I ask with a bit of sarcasm on my face, Aki never gives me any reactions when I speak, sometimes I hate speaking to him, it feels like i'm speaking to a wall that thinks im stupid or something. “I got it.” Finally a response comes out of his mouth, I motion towards the table and slide the door open again.

Today is rather quiet, it's about noon now and everyone is doing their own thing around the apartment, himeno and aki are talking, and i'm over here babysitting power and denji. “You know she doesnt like boys, stop trying to talk to her” power sticks her tongue out at denji, “why is this always a discussion with you two? Denji doesnt even talk to me because you scare him away power, look at where he's sitting right now power” I laugh as denji is a good 2 feet away from me, powers attachment to me makes me happy, she's sweet and funny when she isn't doing anything for personal gain and her cat likes me so she automatically likes me more because of meowy.

“Val, we need to start heading out soon, please kick them out I don't want to do it myself” Himeno says walking towards her room, I stand up and sigh, “well you heard her, you guys also have things to do so please make her happy” I start walking the duo towards the door, aki follows behind me as I open the door for power and denji to walk out, I move to the side to give aki a chance to leave as well, as hes walking out he looks at me, weird, he's just staring me down like he wants to say something, “Thanks.” That's it? It took him that long to utter the word thanks? I dislike non aggressive aki…it's hard to speak to him when he's giving me auto generated response, “anytime, but don’t think ill let you smoke near my plants again” I smile at him, he starts walking towards the elevator where denji is waving goodbye to me and power is just intensely looking at him, waving back I close the door and head to change myself.

Himeno and I headout the house and embark on whatever Ms.Makima has planned for us and it'll always end with himeno complaining, either way it's the job we have to do so she’ll shut up eventually. Himeno opens the door for me to enter Makimas office, “Hello, valentine.” makima said to me, greeting himeno next. “I've been alerted about a demon with a piece of the gun devil is roaming around Shinjuku station, it's unknown what type of demon it is, if you could go and patrol that area to give everyone peace of mind it would be appreciated.” Quickly me and himeno leave to head to our destination, and soon the complaining will start. “Shinjuku? Really the most populated place we could go to, I hate her stupid assignments, its always some low level slime sucking devil!” I just let her take it out, we shortly started heading towards a train to take us.

Arriving at Shinjuku station I'm quickly distracted by the thousands of stores I could be exploring but sadly I'll have to focus on finding the devil disturbing, me and himeno walk the streets up and down just patrolling with nothing to be found. Me and himeno stop for some lunch, i'm not really interested in eating anything so I just had a drink while with fascination I watch her eat the burger she bought, wondering what this day is gonna lead us to.

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fluffyfranny · 2 years

Text

Birthday Gone Bonkers

Summary: It's June 9th, which means it's our favorite dog-loving biker's birthday! And his kyoudai has early morning plans for him in the form of greeting him bright and early on his special day!

However, someone else has early morning plans as well-

Inspiration for this story comes from @mickules (hope the mention is okay :'3) and their parent trap AU featuring Taka and Ishida as brothers! To summarize, chaos ensues with both of them in the same room >:3

6:09 AM.

Of all times to be woken up from one of the best sleeps so far this early into summer break, it was this early.

However, the time served its purpose.

As Mondo reached one sleep-numb arm to the nightstand to nab his phone off the charger, the time and date were in sync. His eyes squinted at the screen, the room still being dark and him being just roused from deep slumber, and did a miniature double-take upon realization:

June 9th at 6:09 AM.

His birthday.

A humored huff left his lips and blew a few strands of bleached orange hair from his vision as he held the phone up to his ear, sleepy grin intact until a voice as loud as a freight train yanked him from his daze, causing him to almost chuck the phone against the wall.

"Happy birthday, little bro!"

Daiya, you scumbag...

"Heh, thanks Dai..." he nearly whispered, voice still deep and raspy from sleep. "But I gotta ask, was this on purpose?"

"Whaddya mean, my guy?" His older brother questioned, the smile apparent in his voice on the other line. "OH, the time! Yeahhh, that was intentional."

"What on Earth gave ya the idea to wake me up this early?" Mondo questioned, bringing his free fist to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Oh, it was Michi's idea!" Daiya confessed. Just as he stated this, another voice came over the line, further rousing Mondo from sleep.

"Yo, s'that Mondo?" Takemichi's voice came through muffled, as if he were trying to shove Daiya out of the way so he could get to the phone. "HEY BIG GUY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Mondo squeezed his eyes shut at this second ear-blasting birthday wish, but responded the same as he did to Daiya; he ;et out a sleep-laced chuckle. "Thanks, lil dude."

"Hard to believe you're still younger than me even though you're a giant!" Daiya teased from beside Michi.

"HEY," Mondo fussed, mentally making a fist as he wanted nothing more to put Daiya in a headlock after that. "Ya don't gotta bring that up all the time, dude!"

A few belly-shaking laughs came from the older biker, and Michi, on the other line, was hunched over, wheezing himself as he slapped a hand over his knee.

"Nah, I'm just messin' with ya, big guy," Daiya reassured. "Jus' figured we'd give ya a call before you get swept up in the day. We're gonna try and stop by later if my bike comes outta the shop in time."

"Ahh, no worries if ya can't," Mondo admitted, sweeping his hair out of his face. "We can always go out an' celebrate late if that's what we gotta do."

"Whatever floats your boat, broski," Michi chimed in again.

"Pssh, love ya too, lil guy."

"What was that, you big ol-"

"Enough, Michi, let the boss man go," Daiya scolded playfully. "Besides, his kyoudai is probably already up by how loud we've been screamin'."

Mondo snorted. This wouldn't be the first time that he'd woken Taka up during an early morning call, or morning in general. Sometimes it was the snoring, other times he may or may not have rolled him off the bed...

He did a double-take towards the door when he thought he picked out the sound of the floorboards creaking from outside his bedroom, followed by the sound of footsteps getting louder and shuffling across the wood before descending downstairs. He slapped a hand to his forehead and rubbed it as he groaned internally:

Ah shit, did I actually wake him up?

"Mon, hey, you there?" Michi was trying to get his attention from the other line, and he shook his head to clear it as he sputtered.

"Y-yeah, sorry man, just..." He glanced back at the door. "Thought I heard somethin'. It's still early, ya know?"

"Yeah, we gotcha," the shorter blonde assured. "We're gonna let ya go now in case ye wanna catch another few winks."

Daiya took the phone. "What lil man said, we'll talk to ya later. I'll let ya know if we're gonna make it."

Mondo nodded. "Yeah, sure thing. Talk later, bro."

"Bye-bye, birthday boy~" The two jeered teasingly, hanging up quickly so Mondo wouldn't have enough time to bite back.

"HEY, why I oughta-!" He sighed as the line went dead, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to put his phone back on the charger and slip on a white sleeveless top before shuffling towards the door.

Might as well get a head start today...

Upon closing the door to his bedroom, Mondo swore he could hear whispers coming from the hallways. He checked behind him towards the door that housed Taka's room, but it was shut and nobody was there.

Then, it hit him: he had heard something earlier...

Downstairs...

Having not bothered to out his hair up even into a low ponytail, Mondo swept the mop of strands that hung over his face to one side, raking his hand through it to smooth it down before descending the stairwell to the adjoined living room and kitchen. As he did, the whispers seemed to cease, having taken notice of the biker's presence.

Upon entering the living room, he could make out Taka through blurry eyes.

"Happy birthday, kyoudai!"

The third wish of the day wasn't as loud as those of his brothers, for he was a distance away from him, so he shot a wink and a still-sleepy grin in his directions.

"Thanks, bro, but don't ya think it's a bit too-"

Mondo paused mid-sentence as he was, quite literally, seeing double. There were two outlines of his bro standing in front of him, and he tried rubbing his eyes to rid of the double vision.

Nope, still two of him. And his eyes weren't even blurry...

Wait wait wait-

"What's the matter, bro?" The two of him said in sync, tilting their heads to the side while sparing each other a sideways glance, red eyes glimmering even this early in the morning.

"Don't you pull this kinda shit with me today..." He snarled lowly.

"What? Whatever do you mean?" The Taka on the left spoke, rather confused.

"I haven't the slightest clue what you mean, kyoudai..." The right Taka admitted, eyes keeping their gaze on Mondo.

"Kiyo, you fucker..." Mondo sneered, eyes flicking between the two forms of his bro, trying to discern which one of the two was his real kyoudai.

Kiyo, nickname for Taka's twin brother, Ishida, had the tendency to disguise himself as his older sibling with makeup and hair dye, as well as spot-on voice mimicry. The only difference between the two was an ever so slight difference in their eye color, but Mondo was both too enraged and sleepy still to put effort into glaring deep into their eyes to make the real one out.

So alternate measures had to be taken... he'd figure out which one was the real Taka through means of recalling their knowledge of each other.

"Alright, this is how it's gonna go..." Mondo clarified with a clearing of his throat. "I'm gonna quiz ya both and break down the details. I'm gonna figure out which one of ya is fuckin' around with me."

Both Taka's eyes widened before collectively nodding, lips pursed together.

"Aight, uh, first off," Mondo's brain chugged to life as he tried to think of what to ask first. "What color are my eyes?"

"Purple," both of the Takas said in unison, with the one on the left perking up. "You do know that that's super obvious, right?"

Mondo huffed and wiped the corner of his lip with his thumb. "Yeah yeah, right, just startin' off easy! Now uh... what breed of dog is Chuck back at home?"

"A maltese," both Takas replied.

"You introduced him and his breed the day we met!" The Taka on the right piped up with a smile.

Mondo was getting frustrated now, even after two simple questions that had obvious answers. He pondered over the current situation and what information he had gathered.

Both had responded after answering at least once, one questioning him about how obvious and straightforward his questions and answers were, while the other followed up with gleefully recalling the reason behind the answer.

The real Taka wouldn't question him asking stupid questions, even thought he was a bit of a numbnut...

He could try one last thing...

"Alrighty then," Mondo perked up with this last proposition, a smirk creeping up onto his face. "One last thing...who wants their good morning kiss?"

At this, both Takas let out little gasps. The one on the right's cheeks went extremely pink, while the one on the left had a drop of sweat leak down his forehead and then his temple...

Leaving a trail of black without him seeming to notice...

Aha!

After analyzing their brief reactions, Mondo chuckled before approaching the Taka on the right, the one on the left watching from a sideways glance as he brought up a knuckle to wipe away the "sweat," only for his skin to come away black.

"Gotcha," Mondo rasped before pressing a brief smooch to the real Taka's lips, earning a squeak from him and hearing the other go:

"Awe, rats!"

After their brief embrace, Mondo and Taka turned to their left and saw the other Taka's eyes ignite, the black fading from his hair and revealing snowy white fluff as the dye leaked down his undershirt and his arms.

"Almost had ya, punk!" Ishida grumbled, ruffling his hair in defeat, almost having stolen a kiss from his lovesick brother on his kyoudai's birthday, of all days.

"Oh, don't think yer getting off the hook so easily," Mondo growled, a bony finger coming to point directly at him. "When my bros get here, so help me God, yer screwed..."

"Also, Kiyo..." Taka chimed in, a finger of his own pointing at his brother. "You're about to get hair dye all over the carpet."

Ishida glanced down his arms and the black trails of dye, looking like an eyeliner pen had exploded on him. He shrugged and slipped his white tank top off to mop at his skin, much to the dismay of Taka and Mondo.

"What? I'll just put er in the wash and it'll be spick and span!" He had missed a few spots, the inky dye leaving stained streaks down his arms and chest like zebra stripes.

"Yer gonna need a shower after we're done with ya..."

Unbeknownst to them, Daiya and Takemichi had arrived at their shared home and snuck the door open as the three had their confrontation, with the brothers holding back snickers as Michi had snuck a photo of the moment Mondo gave Taka a kiss.

Everyone whipped their heads towards the front door, and eyes instantly widened as Michi made his way towards Ishida, a pair of cupcakes in hand.

"H-hey little dude, wh- what're ya doing with those?" Ishida stammered, scooting towards the stairs.

"Oh, nothin'..." The blonde sneered, an evil smile pasted across his face. "Jus' wanna offer ya a little taste of...brotherly love."

He lunged at the white-haired twin, and Ishida yelped and made a beeline up the stairs, Michi right on his heels.

As the remaining three watched the early morning commotion, Daiya nonchalantly shut the door before pacing over to Mondo. "Wonder what the neighbors are gonna think of that one," he chimed right before putting his younger brother in a miniature headlock and mussing his already unkempt hair. "Happy birthday again, lil man!"

"I already told ya, I'm not LITTLE!" Mondo snapped, arms grasping at his older brother's in an attempt to get his own around his neck. The two had a miniature wrestling match before Taka intervened.

"Gentlemen, PLEASE!" He shouted the last word, causing them both to freeze where they stood, one of Mondo's hands deep into messing up Daiya's pompadour, while the older one's left arm was still around Mondo's shoulders. "It's still too early for this kind of horseplay!"

"Oh, like yer one to talk," Mondo spat teasingly as he winked in Taka's direction, making his cheeks flare up slightly. "YOU'RE the early riser around these parts that likes to rouse me outta hibernation!"

"Because the morning is important! You have to start your day the right way there and then!" The flush in his cheeks got deeper with this next bit. "E-especially today, cause it's your birthday!"

The brothers gave each other seething stares before they released each other, both going to smooth down their messed up hair. Mondo stepped forward to give Taka's own hair a rustle, the prefect's hands grasping at his wrists in protest, which earned laughs from both the Owadas.

A few seconds passed before someone could be heard stomping down the stairs. Ishida was back, only this time, with frosting matted in his locks and Michi's legs hooked around his abdomen as he kept himself latched on while rubbing the remains of the cupcakes through his hair. Both looked across at the trio, Ishida's eyes sagging with defeat but still glimmering with unseen rage, while Michi still had a smug grin across his face.

"What are y'all waiting for?" The blonde shouted gleefully. "Time to start the day!"

"Stop, lil dude, yer startin' to sound like Ishi," Mondo teased, earning a mock gasp and a playful smack to his chest from the back of the prefect's hand.

"How dare-!"

"I'm playin', dude, I'm playin' with ya, I promise!"

After a few more little laughs at the state everybody was in, they all collectively stared at Mondo, to which he responded with a classic rubbing of the back of his neck and a stammering response.

"Th-thank you guys, really. You make my birthday worthwhile."

He reached his arms out and dragged everyone into a big group hug, a few 'oof's escaping from Michi and Taka before they returned the gesture.

"Happy birthday to me, indeed..."

#danganronpa #dr1 #drthh #trigger happy havoc #mondo owada #kiyotaka ishimaru #ishimondo #kiyondo ishida #daiya owada #takemichi yukimaru

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tokkias · 1 year

Note

"a sky full of stars, and i'd still watch you." FOR NALU PLEASE

dialogue prompts. or something like that. || open

so these dialogue prompts were supposed to be. well. dialogue. and they were also meant to be quick >1k snippets, and this ended up being neither of those things! whoops! nonetheless i think this is quite cute and captures the essence of the prompt, so i hope you enjoy :)

By the time his head hits the pillow, Natsu is out like a light. The bed at this inn isn’t quite as comfy as Lucy’s back home, but the way his body sinks into the mattress, combined with the wave of exhaustion following the first day of their job, makes him feel like he’s about to have the best night’s sleep of his life. Sleep takes him quickly, and he welcomes it with open arms.

He feels like he’s been out for a good few hours before he feels himself being shaken, and he hears a distant voice calling out to him.

"…atsu? He…y …ake …p."

The sound is familiar, but in his drowsy state, he just can’t quite put his finger on who it belongs to.

"Natsu? Natsu, wake up."

It becomes clearer as he begins to realise that he’s not dreaming and his body pulls his brain back to reality.

It takes a few seconds, but eventually his eyes adjust to the darkness and he sees Lucy standing over him. He had assumed that maybe he’d slept in late, but by the looks of things, it’s still dark outside, and Happy is still peacefully snoozing beside him. If he had to guess, he’d say it was two, maybe three in the morning, but at his bedside, Lucy is fully dressed, jacket and all, looking like she’s about to leave somewhere. There had been no discussion of leaving the inn before morning, so the sight before him leaves him mildly confused.

"Lucy?" He manages to croak out, his voice still hoarse with sleep, "somethin’ wrong?"

"No, no, nothing’s wrong," she assures him, "I was just going out stargazing and... I thought I’d see if you wanted to come."

He blinks at her, quiet as he tries to process what’s going on. Maybe it’s the sleep still maintaining its grasp on him, or maybe it’s the way the moonlight streams in through the curtains behind her, but he can’t help but think she looks almost angelic standing over him, and he wonders if he still might be dreaming.

She shrinks under his gaze a little, almost embarrassed that she bothered to ask considering the blank stare that he’s giving her.

"You don’t have to come, I just thought I should ask," she murmurs, her hands fidgeting slightly, feeling completely awkward for suggesting it in the first place. "Sorry for waking you."

She’s already walking towards the door by the time his brain catches up to him and he realises that this isn’t a dream, and he bolts up so quickly that it startles her.

"No, I’ll come," he says, already pulling himself out of bed, careful not to wake Happy as he scrambles to find some clothes, figuring that maybe his half-dressed state might not be appropriate to join her.

Considering his initial reaction, she’s a tad bewildered watching him stumble over himself to pull on a pair of pants as fast as humanly possible, but that feeling quickly fades into amusement as she watches him hop on one leg, trying to pull his foot through the other, clearly still not fully free from the clutches of rest.

Once he’s done making a slight fool of himself, Natsu joins her at the door where she’s been waiting for him. She pauses as she reaches for the door handle, glancing back at the snoozing exceed at the head of the bed. "Should we wake up Happy?"

"Nah, he’ll be fine," Natsu shrugs, "we’ll be back before he wakes up."

The village they’re staying in is a small, quaint place, so it comes as no surprise when they’re the only ones out at this time of night. There are no streetlamps to light their path, but the cloudless night allows the moonlight to wash over the streets, so they’re not completely engulfed in darkness.

Even in the dark, Lucy seems to know where she’s going, so he doesn’t ask questions and simply follows alongside her, glancing at her from time to time as he wonders what she must be thinking right now. She’s not impulsive like he is; she doesn’t have the taste for risk or spontaneity like he does, so it sort of comes as a surprise to him that just a few minutes ago he was asleep in bed, and now the two of them were walking through a strange town they had never been to in the middle of the night at her request. Lucy is the level-headed one of the two, the one who always thinks before she acts. It's something that he loves about her, something that he would never change for the world, but he can admit that this is a nice change of pace.

Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, he notices that Lucy has stopped, and they’re standing in a small clearing just outside of the village. Out of her small bag she pulls a blanket he recognises from her apartment back home, and she rests it out on the grass before beckoning him over. She’s sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and her gaze to the sky, and he joins her, laying on his back at her side, his arms resting behind him to cushion his head.

They’re so far out from any major city that the galaxy shines brilliantly, uninhibited by the light pollution that prevents it from sharing its beauty with the world.

"Gemini and Taurus are out tonight," she says, her chin resting on her knees as she looks up at the night sky. "See those two bright stars up there?" Her finger grazes over the sky, pointing up at the stars: "That’s Pollux and Castor, the heads of the twins."

His eyes scan the vast sky before them, but there’s so much to look at that he doesn’t even know where to begin to look for what she’s referring to.

"I can’t see it," he says, brows furrowed as he tries to follow her finger but comes up empty-handed.

"Here, maybe this will help." She lays down beside him, resting the side of her head against his to try and see what he’s seeing, before placing her hand over his to guide his finger towards the stars she wants him to see. "It might be easier for you to find it from Orion," she tells him, moving their hands together to point out the constellation to him. "That bright star over here is Rigel, the sixth brightest star in the night sky, and that’s Orion’s left foot. If you look up, you can see the three stars that make up Orion’s belt, and then if you go even further, you can see Betelgeuse, which is his right shoulder.”

Natsu squints his eyes, as if that might help him try to figure out what she’s talking about. He thinks he can vaguely make out the belt she’s talking about, but his attention is focused more on how soft the palm of her hand feels against the back of his.

"You can use Betelgeuse to find Gemini and the belt to find Taurus."

She takes his hand from Orion and moves it up to Pollux and Castor, where he finally thinks he can make out what she’s talking about.

"It looks like they’re holding hands," he murmurs.

"Yeah, that’s them," she confirms, flashing him a soft smile before her attention turns back to the skies. "Now, if you go back down to Orion’s belt and follow it up northwest, you can see the body of Taurus."

He tries his best to follow along, but there are so many stars that he finds himself lost again. Rather than following along, he turns his attention to Lucy and her enraptured rambling about the stars. She looks cute like this, he thinks, completely consumed by her fervour.

"Taurus is one of the oldest named constellations, you know. He was used to mark the location of the sun during the spring equinox." She explains. "Because of his horns, lots of cultures independently surmised that he must represent the bull."

She seems to know what she’s talking about, but it all goes over his head, because all he can really see is a bunch of dots on a black background that he can’t possibly imagine being interpreted as anything more than that. It doesn’t really matter what he thinks, though, because in her voice, he can hear all the love and passion she holds for the skies, the stars, and her spirits in which they represent. He hums along to acknowledge each fact that she sends his way, her eyes never leaving the stars and his never leaving her.

Her hand still rests atop his, and she doesn’t make any complaint when he adjusts so their fingers are intertwined.

When she runs out of things to tell him, they lie together in a comfortable silence, and everything about this moment just seems right.

"Hey Lucy?"

His words capture her attention, and her gaze moves from the sky to him.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

She tilts her head slightly, confused by his sudden thanks after minutes of uncharacteristic silence.

"For what?"

"For bringing me out here," he replies.

"O-oh. Yeah, no worries." Even in the darkness, he can see the light flush that spreads across her cheeks as she replies. "Thank you for joining me. This is just… something I wanted to share with you."

As much as he values his sleep, Natsu doesn’t mind being woken up if it’s for her. Lucy is his best friend. She’s his rock, his light, his guiding star. She’s kind, and smart, and caring, and full of love. Lucy is everything that is good in the world, and really, he doesn’t know where he’d be without her (but he doesn’t want to find out either).

He doesn’t know if he believes in soulmates, but he is almost certain that she is his and he is hers.

When a cool breeze passes them by, Lucy instinctively moves closer to him, seeking out his warmth, which he is more than happy to provide. He tosses an arm over her, before pulling her closer, and he laughs at the surprised squeak she lets out in response. She adjusts herself slightly in his arms, but eventually nestles her head comfortably in his collarbone before letting out a long yawn. The sound of it elicits a yawn from Natsu as well, and suddenly all the tiredness from waking up in the dead of night hits him all at once. Before he succumbs to rest, he catches one last glimpse of the galaxy watching over them.

He has no need for the skies, because in her eyes he sees the stars, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#mya writes things #nalu #fairy tail #fanfiction #fan fiction

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greensagephase · 4 months

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I WAS HAVING A RANDOM THOUGHT AND i stumbled upon that song, namely somethin' stupid by Frank Sinatra and OH MY GOD how I immediately thought of nonviolent communication.

Just mainly the lyrics of picking out a quiet place to hang out, even struggling to find a common time together but when they do its perfect. A quiet simple moment with the other person together and it feels like there's nothing else that matters than being with that said person. IT JUST STRUCK ME so much so like Miguel in nonviolent communication because he'd love putting so much effort and thought into the little times spent together. Especially this line ''I practice every day to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true, But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late, and I'm alone with you'' meaning that even if its just spending dinner at each other's or watching something together even the little things he tries to make sure that it goes well.

THE PART where it says ''I can see it in your eyes, that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before'' STRIKES me so much as the part of trying to get over peter's death but no one knows the real grief of having to deal with it and the pressure of moving on and the number of times people have said that it would get easier with time but it doesn't ever feel that way for the person grieving.

Of course the main line being ''And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you" '' just makes me SOB because it feels so much like what miguel would think when hes 'runining' a peaceful perfect moment but in reality hes not but hes a sad angsty man and he'd regret saying it out loud at first but hopefully things end up happy :)

First of all, this is one of my favorite songs by Sinatra!! Second, I love all your points and agree with you, THIS SONG IS SO FITTING on so many aspects for Nonviolent Communication😭😭 the line of waiting "until the evening gets late" and that they're alone - so Miguel!! Thinking about how Miguel and reader are interrupted sometimes when they're at his lab and him finding this annoying (because he really enjoys spending time with reader), and so sometimes he feels like he needs to wait until later or until they're in the comfort of their homes to share things with reader, or to make sure the moment can be fully theirs with no interruptions!!

Omg, the line - ''I can see it in your eyes, that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before" - and connecting it to losing Peter and being told it will get easier!! You have me crying over here!!! 😭😭 I love this so much, you have no idea!!! I'm imagining the early days of losing Peter, when she still had her friends from her universe and being told this over and over again by friends and acquaintances, and continuing to happen upon her joining the Spider Society and just feeling lied to because it's still not easy.

But the last one, omg!! Miguel would definitely think he "ruined" a perfect moment by saying "I love you" 🥺 no, this is one is breaking my heart so much because imagine how much it took Miguel to say it (he has also probably been thinking about it for days, debating on whether or not to say it) and then feeling like he shouldn't had !!!! SOBBING JUST IMAGINGING THIS RIGHT NOW!!! I just want to give Miguel a tight hug and comfort him, and tell him I love him, too 🥹 but in Nonviolent Communication, everything would turn out happy and it would be a sweet and tender moment between Miguel and reader :) and he wouldn't feel like he "ruined" the moment afterwards.

Now that you've made me think of this song and connected it to NC, I'm thinking of another line from the song that's so Miguel but I don't want to give spoilers. It might be discussed in part 12 or part 13, so I'll mention it once it's brought up, and tell you what line I was thinking about!!

This was so sweet and angsty to think about and now I'm not gonna be able to hear this song without thinking of NC Miguel and reader 😭 but that's a good thing because I love thinking about them!! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts!!! I hope you're doing well and that things are going smoothly for you, my friend!!! ❤️

#nonviolent communication #asked and answered

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typingatlightspeed · 28 days

Text

TF2 Fanfic - Someone Else's Song Chapter 2

A whole week of cracking away at N.G.'s mystery letter yields no leads, so Spy creeps out of his smoking room to put boots to pavement and do some more hands-on espionage. Meanwhile, Engie has some meaningful conversations about his chances.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Ao3 Link!

Really want a grilled cheese after writing this chapter tho. :/

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Spy awoke with a snort, lifting his head from the surface of his desk, a small piece of notepaper stuck to his chin by a patch of dried drool. He swatted it away and tugged the handkerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe his face. He checked his watch. Eight A.M. He sighed. He had fallen asleep sometime before late night had transitioned to early morning, it seemed. His eyes scanned the desk in front of him.

The surface was scattered with papers. Laying at its centre was original letter itself, which had been tested with every solution to reveal invisible ink that Spy could think of. Sitting around were several copies penned by Spy with different notes and marks calling out different letters, words, and turns of phrase, no definitive patterns to be found. Keys for every major cipher in common and uncommon use decorated the periphery. Several examples of the other mercenaries' handwriting were stacked up to be analyzed versus the two letters that N.G. had written, to try and eke out anything from the deeply opaque clue. Spy leaned back in his chair and stretched, having been hunched over for hours. With a weary groan, he took out and lit a cigarette. He puffed a long drag and looked dimly at his fruitless work.

It had been days of this, hammering away at a diamond with a chisel made of tin, no closer to an answer than when he'd picked the letter up in the first place. Staring bleary-eyed at his work wasn't about to spontaneously spawn epiphany. He needed to stretch his legs. And get a coffee. And a shower.

Engineer's work stool had been squeaking near-constantly for the past hour. He wasn't even aware of it, but it was doing it, and constantly. The heel of his boot rested hooked on the bar that circumnavigated the stool's legs, forming a footrest for the man perched atop it, and the toe of that boot was bouncing, making the stool squeal with each jerky movement. Engineer did not notice this. He was too engrossed in the project on his drafting table. Or more accurately, with what was churning away inside his brain while he pretended to be able to get any work done at said drafting table.

The slam of gloved hands on his workbench startled him out of his reverie, and he looked over to see Pyro glowering at him, an oxyacetylene torch clamped to the bench and lit, a small pile of cinders beside it. Engineer reeled back in spite of the good ten feet that separated them. "Somethin' wrong?"

"I'm trying to burn things over here, but bouncing your leg is making that chair sound like we've got upstairs neighbours that just learned what sex was! If you don't stop that racket I'm going to burn down this entire base, starting with myself."

A sheepish smile crossed Engineer's face, and he stilled his leg. "Sorry, Py. I'm just awful wound up."

"I couldn't tell," Pyro shot back, hands settling on his hips. "Spy, huh?"

"It's been a doggone week and he's been playin' it so close to the chest he may as well start coughin' up cards." He shook his head, setting his pencil down and pulling off his hardhat to scratch at his stubbly scalp.

Pyro took a moment to turn off the oxyacetylene torch and flopped onto a rolling stool, gliding over to his friend. "You think he's figured it out?"

"If he has, he ain't said a word about it." Engineer sighed, shaking his head. "Which feels about as good as just bein' shot down, if I'm honest. Maybe I should just be glad he was tactful enough to not just turn me down in front of everyone, or make fun of me for it."

"That's an awful thing to think about the guy you've got a crush on," Pyro chastised.

"It ain't a crush!" Engineer barked. "It's just...interest. Attraction."

"Attraction you expressed by writing him a love letter."

"It was your idea!"

"It's a crush."

"You make me sound like a damn teenager findin' out what love means for the first time."

Pyro tilted his head to the side. "Is that how Spy makes you feel?"

Engineer went silent, considering that for a moment. He sighed. "Fair enough."

A giggle bubbled its way out of Pyro's mask, and he gently clapped his hands in delight. "But here's the thing: Spy, for all of his class and charisma, is pretty forthright. He wouldn't just let things lie. If he wanted to reject you, he'd communicate it somehow , regardless of what level of cruelty he chose to use, right?"

"I s'pose."

"So that means somehow he still hasn't figured the damn thing out a whole week later. I think you covered your tracks too well somehow."

Engineer couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Spy's the kind o' fella who reads so far past the surface he drowns in the details. He'd cut a tree in half to count the rings without even realizin' he's in a damn forest. If I know him half as well as I hope I do, he's probably been burnin' the midnight oil when the answer's plain as day in front o' him."

"Is Spy really that dumb?"

"He ain't dumb at all," Engineer said warmly, a laugh threatening to edge into his voice, "he's too smart's the problem.

"I tell you this," Heavy said, setting down his bottle of oil and picking up a rag. "After you use mayonnaise, you will not use butter again. It is life-changer."

Sniper frowned, shaking his head. "I dunno, mate. Mayo for a grilled cheese?"

"I did not believe at first either. But it brown more even, make flavour more...," the giant searched for the right word, "rich? I think is how to say?"

"Yeh," Sniper confirmed with a nod, finishing laying out the pieces of his rifle on the worktable of the armory. "Right, next time you're fixin' one, throw one on for me. I'll try it. If I like it, I'll teach you my special grilled cheese recipe."

"Special grilled cheese?" Heavy asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"The secret is ham, apples, and a runny fried egg," Sniper said with a conspiratorial grin. "But you gotta poach the apples in cinnamon and sugar first, so it's almost like applesauce or pie fillin' without the corn starch."

"Is sandvich really still grilled cheese at this point?"

"Dunno, but what I can tell you is that it's delicious."

"Will keep this in mind," Heavy agreed with a nod. If making Sniper a normal sandwich got Sniper to make him a fancy sandwich, he wasn't about to turn it down. Especially if ham was involved.

Spy suppressed a sigh. He stood, cloaked, leaning against the door to the armory as his teammates chatted sporadically as they maintenanced their guns. Everyone made time to clean and work on their weapons at some point every few days, though Heavy was a fixture, pampering his darling Sascha as a daily ritual and making him easy to find for anyone seeking him out. It was one of the rare times one could catch the giant for a casual conversation.

Apparently this time, Sniper had seen fit to use his time with Heavy to talk about food. It was one of the universal languages, Spy supposed.

It didn't help him at all in his effort to eavesdrop on the team for clues, though. At least, not until...

Sniper looked back over his shoulder, and Spy froze, invisible and silent and far enough away that any lingering scent of smoke on him wouldn't be detected. "So, you think Spy's cracked the code yet?"

Heavy chuckled. "Don't know. There are many common ciphers used. He has lot of work to do to eliminate them all."

"Probably spent the whole week neck-deep in cryptography for nothin'."

Heavy shook his head. "It is funny. Spy is too smart to be so stupid sometimes."

Spy frowned at the insult, trying not to let it bother him too much. Heavy didn't know enough English to speak delicately.

"Look how his kid turned out. Apple don't fall too far from the tree."

"You are mean to Scout. Thought you are Scout's friend."

Sniper shrugged with a laugh. "Mate, if anyone's qualified to rib the little gremlin it's 'is mates. I'd expect no less from 'im in turn."

Heavy shook his head, realizing that perhaps he'd spent so long only socializing with his family that the urge to banter had grown rusty. Certainly, he remembered teasing his friends in college mercilessly, and laughing when they did the same in kind. "This is fair."

"Either way, I hope all of this gets figured out soon, else N.G.'s gonna 'ave a heart attack from waitin' on tenterhooks." Sniper took up the barrel of his rifle in one hand. "Pass that brush?"

Heavy handed his teammate a brush with a nod and a grunt, and silence fell as they worked.

Spy lingered a little longer, but soon slunk away with a silent sigh. It seemed like Heavy and Sniper had an idea of who this mysterious N.G. was, that it was neither of them, and from the way they spoke, it was an obvious thing to them. He didn't know whether he should be insulted or not, stymied in the search as he was. The way they talked, it was clear that he was looking too hard , which only frustrated him more. Had he wasted all of his time on a line of thought that lead nowhere?

Fine.

If cryptography would get him nowhere, he would do things the old-fashioned way: pure surveillance. Already, skulking him in the shadows had gotten him that much, a half-step closer and Sniper crossed off the list, so perhaps it was time for a bit of the human touch.

Coffee. Medic needed coffee. Those chupacrabra kidneys weren't going to be used to filter irradiated echidna blood on their own, and Medic just knew his hands weren't going to be steady enough for the suture work he'd need to do after an all-nighter unless he had at least a little more caffiene to keep him going. Once he had the data he needed he could finally crash out and sleep. Just a little longer.

With a yawn, he pushed open the door to mess, a little surprised to find Spy there, leaning against the counter on which the communal industrial-sized coffee maker sat, an overlarge mug in his hand. He looked almost as tired as Medic felt, and judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he, too, had been neglecting sleep in the pursuit of knowledge. Medic smiled fondly and waved as he approached.

"Spy! It is nice to see you outside of the battlefield for the first time this week," he teased, snagging a mug and dumping an unconscionable amount of sugar into it before filling it with coffee. "You've spent so much of your liberty time working in your office, I was worried you'd turned into me!" He tittered, then added milk enough that the beverage began to match his skin tone, and snatched a spoon to stir it with.

Spy tried and failed to not make a face as he watched Medic mangle his coffee. "It is a smoking room, but you're not incorrect. I have been working, though the way I currently feel, I can no longer say it is tirelessly."

Medic grinned at that, a soft, "hoo," of a laugh puffing out of him. "So how does the search for your secret admirer go?"

"Secret admirer; you make it sound like we're children."

"You received a love note from someone with a crush on you."

Spy pouted in reply.

Medic tittered. "It's sweet, really. Romance is childish, isn't it? At it's root?"

"Your idea of romance is very different from mine, then."

"Think about it: Naked emotion making your heart race, your palms sweat, your brain positively swim with oxytocin, manifesting as giddy delight? Your body's reaction is as brazen and free of guile as children speaking plainly, 'I like you,' wouldn't you say?"

Spy eyed Medic for a long moment, waiting for some unhinged or dismissive follow-up. When none came, he shrugged a shoulder. "Fair enough, I suppose." He sipped his coffee, sneaking a sidelong glance at his companion, a bit disarmed by the fanciful soft side he had revealed.

Was he wrong in discounting Medic so swiftly? What if it was him? Would it be so bad, to be loved by a man who could heal your every wound, every ailment, make you stronger, faster, better, more healthy and hale than nature could ever offer of its own accord?

In sickness and in health indeed.

But Medic was married to science. It was his husband, his work his wife. His greatest passion could never be devoted to a mere man, no matter how extraordinary. A lover would have to be satisfied always being the runner-up in Medic's heart and life.

Spy couldn't imagine being satisfied with that. Even he had tried to put his work aside once, his love of a woman far stronger than the love of his life's calling. Sadly, that calling was not about to be so quickly turned aside.

But he couldn't blame Medic, either. Brilliance often brought with it a certain single-mindedness. Medic and his experiments. Heavy and his guns. Only Engineer seemed able to pull himself away from his hyperfocus, powerful and self-destructive as it was, still taking time for playing guitar and cookouts and nights sitting under the stars, enjoying the quiet beauty of nature when he thought the rest of the team had gone to bed and he'd been left alone to his own devices, unaware that Spy would often rest against the wall beside the door to the porch, cloaked and sharing in the moment of peace. Each man contained multitudes, but only Engineer could pull himself away from his work with enough regularity to place that fact on display. And rustic though he may be, Spy couldn't deny that there was a bucolic charm to his non-work interests.

Spy looked back to Medic, who was smiling at him over the rim of his mug. He realized that he'd been caught spacing out for a moment as his brain churned away. Medic tittered as their eyes met.

"I almost forgot: there is also the telltale rush of blood to the capillaries of the face, causing erubescene," he teased, "or blushing , as you might know it." He gestured gently to Spy, who realized to his own dismay that his cheeks had grown hot as his mind had drifted.

Spy cleared his throat, straightening his posture like it would hide the pink peeking above his mask from the taller man. "Yes, well, thank you, Docteur. But I should be getting back to it. Mysteries do not solve themselves."

Medic took another sip to contain his giggles. "Of course! Good luck, Spy, and I hope the real thing turns out as lovely as your fantasies!"

Spy grumbled out a vague thanks as he set down his empty mug and slunk out of the room in a small huff.

N.G. definitely wasn't Medic. He got far more enjoyment out of needling him, both literally and metaphorically, than any romance would offer.

Scout sat back from his drawing, pen tapping against his lip as he regarded the shape of the car he was sketching out. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't place what. Then again, he also wasn't used to drawing at a forty-five degree angle. "Draftin' tables are weird," he said, looking past said drafting table to where Engineer was seated on a rolling shop stool, hunched behind a dispenser, its wires spilling out as he went at something inside with a pair of pliers.

"Takes some gettin' used to, I'll admit," Engineer replied absently.

"Yeah."

Silence fell for a long moment as Scout scratched down a few more lines onto his notebook. "So, you bend Spy over the workbench yet?"

Engineer dropped his pliers, sputtering in surprise, his face going red in an instant. "What the hell is wrong with you askin' somethin' like that?"

"Seriously? No? Don't tell me 'e still ain't figured it out! Shit, man, you might as well just tell 'im at this point, if 'e's too dumb to pick up on it after a whole-ass week."

"He ain't dumb."

"Yeah okay," Scout snorted.

"It also ain't your business."

"Why not? Man, if two 'a my coworkers're gonna be all kissyface an' shit all the time an' bangin' in the off hours in the base where we all live which ain't got soundproofin' , that's gonna turn into my business at some point. What if Spy's a screamer? Especially with what you're packin'!"

"...what I'm packin?" "We all shower together; ain't nobody not noticed you swing pipe, Engie."

"You little pecker checker."

"I was scopin' out the competition."

"Competition for what?"

"I dunno; not Spy though, I'll tell you that. He's your problem. Least, he will be once you just go nut up an' tell 'im."

Engineer set down his pliers and stared hard at Scout. "Like how you told Miss Paulin'?"

Scout stammered a bit before crossing his arms across his chest. "This ain't about me."

"First time you've ever said that about anythin'," Engineer shot with a smirk.

"Look, I don't get why you're into 'im, but you are. A guy don't write another guy a freakin' love letter if 'e ain't down bad for 'im."

"The letter was Pyro's idea. Said 'e was sick of watchin' me pinin' away in silence. And now I'm in this mess."

Scout smiled a little at that. It explained a lot. A love letter didn't really seem Engineer's style, which probably wasn't helping Spy solve things. "What, were you just never gonna say nothin'?"

"Spy's a refined fella. He wouldn't go for a country boy like me if I just up and said somethin' to 'im."

"You kiddin' me? You've got more PhDs than there are guys on base! You can play guitar! Chicks dig smart artsy guys."

"Scout, Spy's a man."

"Do guys who like guys dig smart, artsy guys?" Scout asked, rolling his hand like he was waiting for Engineer to catch up with him.

Engineer stared for a long moment, unable to argue. "S'pose so."

"See? Look just 'cause you're all yee-haw an' axle grease don't mean that ain't what 'e's into, Eng. Like yeah, I bet he'd totally wanna bang a dude just like 'imself, but maybe that ain't all, yeah? Maybe he likes a guy who's stronger an' more manly than 'im, yanno? Hold 'im in 'is big arms, make 'im feel safe..."

Engineer lifted an eyebrow.

"I mean girls like that, so maybe guys who like guys do?" Scout recovered, gesturing broadly with his arms.

"Maybe they do," Engineer huffed out with a laugh. Scout was right. It was entirely possible that Spy would be interested in what he had to offer. He was aloof, but that didn't mean he didn't find anything attractive in any of them The man maintained a standoffish facade with the whole team, buts it was his own brand of professionalism, likely to make up for what an immature little shit he could be on the field when he thought nobody was looking.

Engineer was looking, and what he saw made him laugh. It was endearing, really, to see the cool, aloof cat of a man doing voices and chucking insults the same as the rest of them. He wasn't really above it all, in spite of how he tried to play.

"Look, I ain't got a dog in the race, Eng. So I can tell ya square: anyone with eyes can see you're a catch, man. You're built, you're handy, you play guitar an' sing an' know how to cook. Plus, you're rich. Like crazy rich. Like not just built yourself up rich but Daddy's Money rich on top 'a that. Fuck around money rich. If you were into girls they'd be tearin' each other's hair out tryin' to get to you! An' I bet Spy sees that too. Guy sees everythin', yanno?"

Engineer chuckled at that. Scout wasn't exactly great at navigating it, but the spirit was there, and he appreciated being hyped up a bit. "Thank ya kindly," he said demurely, laying a hand over his heart. "But him seein' everythin's why I ain't piped up yet. I want 'im to figure it out, act on 'is own initiative. Ain't the same if I confront 'im with it, feels like. Plus, the man loves his ego stroked. Bein' able to solve the puzzle'll go toward that, I reckon."

"I don't get it. Figured with guys you could just circumvent all that pussy-footin' around shit. 'Hey, gorgeous. We both got dicks; wanna do it?'"

"And that's why you ain't had a date of any gender long as I known you."

"Man, I ain't had a date 'cause we're stuck livin' in a base in the middle 'a fuckall nowhere!" Scout barked, indignant. His expression turned to a pout as the only reply he received was Engineer's signature wheezy chuckle.

"We're bloody terrible at this game," Demoman huffed, watching his horseshoe land a full foot away from the stake.

"You have no depth perception, of course you're terrible!" Soldier barked, lining up his shot. He let his horseshoe fly, only for it to overshoot the stake by at least two feet. "Too much mustard on that one."

"And ye can barely see out from under the brim o' that helmet," Demoman huffed. "I'll have ye ken me aim's close enough. Can hit a runnin' Scout with a pipe at twenty paces nae danger!"

"I thought close enough was supposed to work for horseshoes and hand grenades! You're one for two, maggot!" "Shut it!" Demoman's lip curled up into a snarl as he lined up his next shot. He swung his arm and released the horseshoe, which fell limply to the dirt just barely inside of the pit, two and a half feet from the stake. "Crud!"

Soldier hacked out a laugh, doubling over to brace himself on his thighs to keep standing.

Demoman stood there pouting at him, arms crossed over his chest. 'I'm too sober's the problem. Nae had a drink in almost an hour. The double vision's the trick, ye ken."

Spy watched from the porch, posted against one of the supports holding up its bockety, sun-rotted roof. He was getting fidgety from spending a while without cigarettes, trying not to get made by scent, but he kept his shaking hands hidden in the pockets of his trousers. The last thing he wanted was to jitter so much that the motion of his cloak could be seen.

As expected, there wasn't much to eavesdrop on with Demoman and Soldier, the two of them spending most of their words to roast one another with the sort of viciousness only close friendship could elicit. It did warm Spy's heart a bit, in spite of it all. At least that whole business with the BLU Soldier hadn't dulled this friendship or made things awkward. Though he suspected neither man had the emotional intelligence to realize why it could get weird. Ignorance may truly be bliss after all.

Either way, while it was certainly entertaining to watch, it wasn't really getting him anywhere. He suspected as much, but due diligence made it just seem right to see if two of the most loose-lipped men on the team would let anything slip. Given Demoman's known interest in men, it could make him more prone to gossiping about the base's newest potential homosexual romance.

Assuming Spy was right and he hadn't written the letter himself.

With a sigh, Spy pushed off of the support, deciding to cut his losses and go try to see if he could talk Pyro in enough circles to spill something. The arsonist clearly knew something, or at least liked the drama enough to be working on figuring it out as well. Either way, it was likely to be more fruitful than watching the most tragic lawn game he'd ever witnessed.

A creak sounded from the old, dry-rotted wood. Then the roof groaned . Spy's head snapped back to look up a moment before a rotten chunk of the structure fell. He leapt, rolling across the concrete paddock of the porch, and narrowly missed the rain of wood and shingles as the whole corner of the roof gave way and collapsed with a clatter and crunch. His cloak sputtered and dropped, leaving him on one hand and his knees, staring wide-eyed at the wreckage.

"Oi! Spy! Ye alright?" Demoman called, jogging over.

"Y-yes, thank you," Spy replied, climbing to his feet and dusting off his trousers.

"Knew that thing's days were numbered, but I didnae realize just how close tae the end it was," the bomber mused, looking over the damage.

"Why didn't Engie fix it?" Soldier asked, ambling over, utterly calm.

"'Cause he fixes everythin' else on this bloody base, and he cannae be everywhere all the time," Demoman reasoned, a bit shamefully.

"He's reliable and capable, but even he is but one man," Spy mused, taking out a cigarette and lighting it with relief. If his hands weren't already shaking, they definitely would be now.

"We need two of him," Soldier concluded, slapping his fist down into his open palm.

"How're ye gonnae do that?" Demoman replied with a smirk, egging Soldier on.

"He could make a clone of himself! I bet he could reprogram Respawn to do it!" Soldier grinned broadly, proud of his idea.

"Aye, that's definitely how that works." Demoman rested his hands on his hips and had a chuckle. "So Spy, ye out here eavesdroppin', or was that," he gestured to the wreckage that was the corner of the porch, "just a wee coincidence."

Spy sighed. Demoman was too canny for his own good sometimes. "If you're accusing me of dropping eaves, I assure you, that ," he, too, gestured to the destroyed porch roof, "was not my intention."

Demoman whooped out a laugh at that. "Ye should banter more, Spy. Ye got the touch!"

A soft, self-satisfied chuckle left Spy, and he took another long drag. "I've spent the majority of my liberty this week slaving away at that love letter. Some fresh air would do me good. At least, I thought so, until the porch tried to crush me."

"Ach, what's a bit o' mortal danger? It's good for the blood," Demoman dismissed with a laugh. He hopped up on the edge of the porch next to where Spy stood and patted the concrete paddock, inviting him to sit. Soldier climbed up on his other side, kicking his legs in the air.

With a moment's consideration, Spy shrugged and settled in beside Demoman, half-facing him with one leg up on the porch, the other hanging. "I assume you'd like to chat."

"Aye, aye. Surprised you're of a mind."

"Like I said, I've spent the entire week with no human interaction outside of combat, slamming my head against a puzzle." Spy took a drag and exhaled, looking off to the side. "Don't get used to this."

That made Demoman snort. Spy was ridiculous, preening like a cat and pretending to be above it all. It would be infuriating if it weren't so transparent. "Sure, aye, nae danger."

"So, have you figured out who it is, yet?" Soldier asked.

Spy sighed, thinking it obvious. If he had, why would he be here, sneaking around and almost dying to faulty construction? "No, I have not."

Soldier replied with a soft, "Hm."

"Dinnae let it get ye down," Demoman offered, clapping Spy on the shoulder then swiftly removing his hand after clocking the look of utter disdain that it elicited. "Honestly? A whole week o' radio silence after a note with barely a hint? It's strange, it is."

"Perhaps, but when presented with a mystery like this, what am I to do?"

"I ken ye've nae conclusion, but any theories?"

Spy took a long drag. "A few. Some more attractive than others."

Demoman chuckled at that. Fair enough. "Which ones're more attractive?"

"Fishing for compliments?" Spy teased with a smirk.

"If I'm still in competition I'd be more concerned about yer qualifications for wearin' that balaclava, mate. Ye ken me style, and sneakin' love notes isnae it."

"Didn't you and the BLU Soldier get together at a gun show?" Soldier asked.

"It's where we met and struck up a friendship," Demoman explained. "Wasn't 'til after we hit the bars, got good 'n liquored up, fought the cops, and laid low at a motel outside town that I kissed him. Was ready tae write it off as adrenaline until he kissed me back, and started slidin' his hand down me trews." He sighed fondly, as painful as the nostalgia was.

"Wait, you fucked on the first date?" Soldier asked.

"Did we have time tae consider there'd be another one?" Demoman reasoned. "I'm nae some blushin' flower, mate. I've got a braw lad askin' me tae blow his back out, I aim tae do it."

"You can't aim for shit," Soldier snorted, then fell into laughs as Demoman pushed him off the porch.

"Yes, well, I suppose the speed at which you move isn't quite compatible with writing notes," Spy said, rolling his eyes and trying to expel the mental image of Demoman fucking the BLU Soldier from his mind, even if it did answer the idle curiousity he had as to which of the bombastic, competitive men had been the bottom.

"Aye, aye, but still's tae the point: any o' those theoretical authors actually have a chance, mate? I imagine yer nae gonnae throw yerself at a lad just 'cause he's wrote ye a love note. So what's the best case scenario? Who'd actually have a shot? Who d'ye hope it is?"

Spy sat with that question for a long moment, taking a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. The pause was so pregnant Demoman fancied its water was about to break.

He hadn't really considered that. Not in earnest. Sure, he thought about the pros and cons of who it might be, whether it was preferable. But what would he really do once he discovered the answer? And what if it was an answer he didn't like? What if it was an answer he did? What was an answer he did? Who was he kidding? He hadn't gathered the thoughts in a cohesive manner, but in his gut, he already knew who he wanted it to be. His own wandering mind had taught him as much.

"Engineer," Spy sighed, looking away so as not to meet Demoman's eye. Out of the corner of his own vision, he caught a smile crossing the bomber's lips anyway.

"Good, you can get him to fix the porch," Soldier announced.

"Engie, aye?" Demoman said appraisingly, giving a little nod. "Ye've good taste, lad. Broad, braw bloke like that? Muscles for days and a bit soft? That voice? "

"Do I have competition?" Spy teased with a soft laugh, grateful that he hadn't been teased immediately for a rare moment of candidness.

"Ach, nae. I'd nae dare stand in yer way."

"In my way?" Spy asked, eyebrow lifted.

"Look, lad. It's clear ye want him tae be the answer. Which means yer sweet on him. Which means nae matter who this secret admirer o' yours is, what does matter is ye've yer eye on someone already. The matter's been breached, in so many words. Why nae just make a move?"

"And if he's not the author?"

"Then yer nae interested in the author anyway," Demoman reasoned. "Right?"

Spy nodded slowly, admitting it to himself. Any other candidate just didn't capture him the same way, didn't set his heart to racing and his mind to distraction like thoughts of the short Texan with his warm voice and strong hands and eleven hard-science PhDs. "Which leaves the question of whether Engineer would be interested," Spy pointed out, gesturing vaguely with his cigarette.

"You will not know the answer to that if you do not ask," Soldier said plainly. "If he did write it, then he is interested. If he did not, you can not know if he is interested unless you ask."

"Hate tae say it, but the lad's right," Demoman agreed, jerking a thumb at Soldier. "And say he's nae the author, and someone else's feelings get hurt: lad wrote ye a note so opaque even you o' all people couldn't crack it, and never followed up, dropped any other breadcrumbs, just sat back and let it lie. Can he really blame ye for followin' yer heart?"

"He snoozed, he lost!"

"Aye, exactly!"

Spy chewed on that thought for a moment and took another long drag to finish his cigarette, stubbing it out on the concrete porch as he exhaled. "Fair enough, I suppose."

"I ken the direct approach isnae yer wheelhouse, but sometimes, the only way out is through!"

"Yeah, go get 'im, Frenchie!"

Spy snorted out a soft laugh and shook his head. This was where he was getting his romantic advice? Still, he supposed, they weren't wrong.

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