#I think that's Dilly Dilly in the corner anyway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delopsia · 5 months

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del 💐 what about grocery shopping adventures with the floytts?!

i wish they weren’t so regionally different because the idea is so domestically dreamy 😔 but let’s try anyway...

*whispers* actually, let me first say that reader is technically a blank slate existing around these two hot dogs, so any additions you’d like to make regarding them and the ideas i have yet to present is up to you 💫

rhett-ington 🌻

does he actually not mind holding onto the cart? does he ever learn to not silently walk off when robby and reader’s backs are turned? or maybe it’s second nature because he really doesn’t mean to wander off and get himself lost (often times in plain sight because sometimes he’s just very quiet and still) while reader and robby speedwalk around like a scooby-doo montage...

is he holding a hand when all they need is a basket? does he ever absentmindedly try to pull whoever’s hand he has laced with his along to see something on a shelf that catches his eye—maybe not to buy necessarily, but just because it looks wacky or interesting?

i feel like rhett is the resident *points to item on top shelf* “hey cowboy, can you get that for me please?” even if it’s robby, who is only an inch or two shorter than him, asking? and rhett just 😌 “of course, baby.” because he loves being needed...

do you headcanon him adding anything else to the grocery lists besides his usual snacks? i feel like rhett is a creature of habit when it comes to the meals he does like, especially since reader and robby have since introduced him to different and more flavorful meals, again, unless it’s on a plate that doesn’t belong to him per saaay, but to someone who knows him and then he’s like “that looks tasty...” but to me, rhett seems more like he just mindlessly goes with the flow on grocery trips...

he will, however, in my humble opinion, absolutely annihilate a farmers market. i think the cowboy is a mental math, recipe remembering, time efficient lunatic when faced with booths of fresh produce, flowers, and baked goods. he’s even better with a list, of course, and definitely won’t miss out on a chance to drown in reader and robby’s kisses and hugs when he comes home with seasonal pastries or slices of cake or pie and a fistful of sunflowers...

rob-ington 🌷

is robby the opposite? a time efficient, recipe remembering, mental math machine in a fluorescent-lit grocery store rather than a farmer’s market? i think out in that busy outdoor market he’s the one who dilly-dallies and lallygags and sometimes walks off, because he’s checking out nearly every booth that is selling ready made food 🤭

but i think robby keeps a grocery list as organized as reader keeps their pantry and kitchen? (which! i felt that so hard because SAME) but maybe it’s reusable, in a way? like they always cover all basis for their cooking lifestyle, robby has his own special homecooked recipes he got from his mama that he loves making his beloved partners, so they just check inventory and keep buying what they’re low on or out of? he does strike me as someone who bypasses the boxed / pre-made baking aisle no matter how much rhett whines that he “jus’ wants to see!” because again, his mama raised him up with a couple recipes for batches of big chewy cookies and a chocolate cake so decadent that it even knocks him on his ass for a nap after a slice and a glass of milk...

but maybe he folds around holiday times when reader and rhett plead so sweetly for those ridiculous (his words) seasonal cookies 😂

The way in which I was standing in a grocery store, checked my phone, and saw this 😭

Currently renaming the Hawthorn AU to the Hot Dog AU 💃

Rhett never learns; the problem is that he only means to step away for a second. He's standing by the cart and realizes that, "Oh! We need sugar; that's just around the corner. I'll go grab that." But then he comes back, the cart is gone, and he can't find them again. He only intends to help, but he's never fully in sync with the plan that the other two have.

Sometimes, he'll look up and see them darting past, having no clue he's standing right there, and he'll just let it go on until they finally spot him. He gets a kick out of standing there, sugar in hand, watching them struggle to find him.

If they only need a basket, then he'll sometimes curl his finger into Bob's belt loop and just follow along that way. It doubles as an excellent way of not losing each other in crowds, so long as you don't mind the soft tugging. But he does just forget he's got someone's hand in his.

"Don't you see it?"

"You're pointing our hands at about four different things, Rhett."

Bobby can fully reach that bag of chips on the top shelf and they all know it, and that just makes Rhett's content grin grow larger. Bonus points if they both struggle to get it and the Reader finds the little step ladder the employees use.

Rhett's definitely a big creature of habit when it comes to food; if it weren't for Reader and Robby, he would eat the same ten meals all the time. Sometimes, he makes a big deal out of it; if Bob says no to hot dogs, then he'll annoyingly burst into a "What, are you too good for hot dogs now? Will the cheese start a revolt? Ham can't handle another type of meat in its presence? I can't believe how you've changed🙄"

But he will just...find these odd foods that pop up from time to time. Once, he disappeared and came back with Dorito-flavored beef jerky. Another, he wound up with canned jackfruit, didn't know what it was, but it intrigued him. Nobody could find where he got them. Then there were the Froot Loops Cereal Straws, when he doesn't even eat cereal that often, and the countless odd, frozen meals that were too intriguing not to try. He doesn't like most of the things he finds, but it always makes dinner a little more interesting.

He only finds these things if he's with Bob and Reader, though. Otherwise, he's in and out within ten minutes. He isn't one for browsing unless he's glued to the cart, free to look at everything, while the other two fuss over which brand to buy.

Rhett and farmers markets! He can always spot the good stuff; he used to follow his momma to the market every Saturday as a kid and picked a lot up from just watching. How to spot the good, avoid the bad, what a scam looks like; the only time he slows down is when he winds up in the baked goods section. It's the only thing he's not familiar with; just because it looks like it has apple in it doesn't mean it's not another fruit in disguise. He learned that the hard way when he accidentally brought home apricot turnovers.

That's how he learned that he hates apricot.

Always picks out things he knows Reader and Bob like, even if he doesn't enjoy it himself because he loves the excited smiles and thankful kisses he gets wrapped up in. Of course, he will always overpay for his favorite lemon bars, even if Bobby does roll his eyes and promise he can make them at home, too.

Robby is the kind of guy who has a whole damn game plan for shopping. It's a little bit funny. Start with the non-food items, the things that won't get warm while browsing, and then straight to the back of the grocery section, slowly working back toward the front. He organizes the items on the list to come in chronological order so he never has to hunt to cross something off. The Reader falls into the habit pretty easily, but Rhett's brain just doesn't work like that, which is why he gets lost so often.

The way that Bob can look at a package and figure out the price per ounce, all in his head, deeply frightens Rhett.

The only problem with Bob in grocery stores is the overstimulation. Those bright fucking lights and the music and the people and the squealing tires and wondering where the hell Rhett got lost; it all gives him a killer migraine by the end. Farmer's markets confuse him because the layout is rarely the same; just because Mrs. Betty was here last week doesn't mean she is this one. And for once, he's quiet, letting Rhett lead the way and trying not to get lost.

There's someone who always sells fresh chicken at a hell of a deal, but they also bring live chickens with them, and something about it just makes Bob pass up on it. How can he buy meat when that chicken's best friend is looking back at him?

Nobody can convince me that Robby doesn't have a damn pantry inventory spreadsheet. While the Reader has free reign of where everything goes, Bob has an elaborate tracking of what they have, how much, and how much has been used. That being said...there's a pattern. The list looks the same, aside from a few items, always needing to get cornmeal mix for the cornbread, red beans, and long-grain rice for the...red beans and rice (who could have guessed?). Same seasonings, always needing two dozen eggs, always this, always that. It's how Rhett knows they need sugar without seeing the list.

The only reason Bobby starts allowing those damned "Easy to make" boxes into the house is because Rhett genuinely gets a little upset. He wants to help bake so bad, but he messes up the recipe every time :( The only thing he can make is in the pre-made box mixes. The breaking point is when he realizes he misunderstood Bob's instruction and put too much flour, thus forcing them to remake the entire thing. He sat in the corner of the couch, face hidden in his knees, misty-eyed as he kept apologizing for always messing it up.

"The only thing I can make is in them boxes," he chokes, squeezing his knees in a little tighter, "but you don't like those."

But Bobby does like those; he just didn't see the point in buying them when he could make a better version from scratch. So now it's a mix of both. Bobby's got his homemade recipes that have trickled down his family for generations, and Rhett gets to make those boxcakes and treats so that he doesn't feel so left out.

He still draws the line at those damn store-bought icings. He'll help Rhett make those from scratch every time because he cannot stand those damn things. It's an easy compromise; Rhett always gets food coloring on him and spends the rest of his day elaborately colored.

He absolutely does fold for those seasonal cookies; it's the one recipe he can't fully nail; for every attempt, there is a box and a cowboy on standby, snacking on the chocolate chips that he was supposed to stay out of. The assistance tax, he calls it 🍪

#rhett abbott #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #hawthorn au #milesmillergf #💐#robert bob floyd

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insane4fandoms · 2 years

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Not Your Captain | Iswm x reader Pt. 2

Summary: Conflicted, Mack must make a decision of choosing between power or his Captain, with the help of the crew. Wilford takes notice, and decides to make the decision for him.

Length: 1,900 words

Warning: Violence, Jealous crew, Unhinged Wilford

Ready to go, @crazy-obsessed-enby!

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Mack froze, finger hovering over the screen, not believing what Wil said.

“What?” He quietly said, looking at him with a shocked expression.

“I already sent a request to the mothership a long time ago, and they accepted to replace your Captain with another,” Wil replied with a simple wave of his hand.

“I didn’t come to this… ‘ship’ just to visit them,” Wil let out a laugh, as if Mack said the funniest joke ever. Mack had so many thoughts in his head. Did you know? Even if you did, would you leave so easily?

“You didn’t confide with our Captain, they would’ve said something to us about this. What makes you think they’ll go with you?” The amount of venom he had in his voice surprised even himself, but Wil didn’t acknowledge it and continued on.

“They’ll come with me. They’re always desperate to please their Captain,” He shrugged.

“Without them, who will be our captain?” Mack pushed on, wanting to tru and figure out the reason he’s taking his Captain.

“You of course! You have everything under control, you don’t need them!” Wil smiled widely at Mack, taking a step closer to him, which Mack took a step back.

“They’ll only get in the way. They’ve been here for, what? 1 year? And you’ve been on this ship since forever. Let’s face it Mat-” Wil continued with his speech.

“Mack,” Mack cut him off, which made Wil paused for a second, but continued.

“You wanted to get rid of them the moment they got on board,” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“This is your chance,” Mack never felt so cold. How did Wil know about that? Did you tell him? Why would you do that? You said it was just between you and him. Guess you really would do anything for Wil.

“Well then! No time to dilly dally! I’ll be leaving in a day or two, with my sugarplum,” Wil straightened up and fixed his bowtie. He turned to leave, but raised his finger.

“Oh! And worry about your ‘Captain’, after all,” Wil gave Mack a look that made Mack uneasy. There were very few things that scared him, but the way Wil looked at Captain… It worried him.

“They weren’t yours to begin with,”

Mack said nothing as he watched Wil walk away, thinking about what Wil said. He could officially be Captain? Mack felt something in his stomach, but it wasn’t his usual pride, but something else.

“Mack?” He went back to reality once he realized a hand was waving in front of his face. It was Mark, giving him a concerned look. He turned to face him, and noticed that the crew were here.

“You didn’t acknowledge us when we got here, you blanked out. Are you okay?” Celci hugged her arms and gave a worried look. Mack opened his mouth to say anything, but felt like his voice disappeared.

Say something, he thought. But the dark side of him is saying don’t. You always wanted to be Captain, this is your chance! Why bother with them anyways? Because… because…

“Wilford is taking our captain away,”

Then chaos erupted.

Everyone started talking over each other. Gunther angrily shouting, Burt all saddened, Celci arguing, and Mark basically bawling his eyes out. Mack stayed quiet again, not able to say anything.

“Okay, everyone quiet!” Celci finally shouted and calmed everyone down, except for Mark, who was crying on her shoulder.

“It’s clear that Captain doesn’t know about this, they tell Mark about everything and because of his reaction,” She motioned to the sulking Mark.

“They’re unknown to this, so we have time to stop this entire thing,” Celci continued, which made the others nod.

“Mark and Mack, you two find Captain and tell them about what Wilford wants. Now!” She ushered the two head engineers off, which they did and snuck around the ship, wanting to avoid Wil.

Eventually, Mack peered over a corner, and spotted a familiar uniform. He finally saw you in the lunchroom, sipping your coffee with a happy look on your face. Just as Mack was about to speak, Mark was right behind him and shouted, hurting the other engineer’s ear.

“Captain!!” Mark called out for you, which made you turn around and smiled at the two.

“Hey you two, you’re just in time. I was going to show Captain Wil the Reactor, so I need both of you to help,” You beamed at them, setting the cup down and waving them over. The two looked at each other and Mark cleared his throat.

“Captain, about Wil. There’s something you need to know about-” He started, but you gave him a pat on the head.

“There’s nothing I don’t know about my Captain, and I’m finally going to show him how much I’ve grown!” You smiled at him.

“And that’s the problem, you can’t trust him, Captain!” Mark pushed further, but you just waved a hand.

“You trust me as much as I trust Captain Wil. There’s nothing to worry about,” Mack was getting more anxious, see you leaving. What if Wil ambushes you? What if he just takes you by force? Is he going to kidnap you? Like hell he will.

“Captain please-” Mark was going to please more, but Mack pushed him aside and grabbed your arm harshly. You jumped at the sudden pain and turn to him, and he immediately loosened his grip at the sight of your sudden scared expression.

“Captain Wil is transferring you back to his ship!” Mack suddenly shouted, which made you freeze in your steps. You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was lying or not. You turned to Mark, who gave a sad nod, feeling like he was going to cry again.

That’s when you slowly sat down, not wanting to believe that your old Captain would do that to you. To take you away from your crew, your ship, your little family. The two engineers sat beside you, Mark comforting you with a hand on your leg.

“We didn't know if he told you about it or not, or if he was going to forcibly take you, but we couldn’t let that happen!” He said, sniffing at the thought of you gone.

“He explained all about it to Mack, thinking Mack will take the role as captain, but he warned us about it,” Mark explained, motioning to the other head engineer.

“Mack…?” You looked at him, head tilted, which caused Mack to suddenly feel embarrassed.

“Captain… I don’t want you to go,” That made you stare at him with a surprised look. Mack was avoiding eye contact with you, face turning a little red.

“You’re the best thing to ever happen on the Invincible II. You are so amazing,” Mark piped in, leaning his head against your shoulder. You looked at your head engineers, and at your hands, where the former warp crystal once laid.

“I thought that Wilford changed… but he never does,” You confessed to him, rubbing your face tiredly.

“What he said warped my head, thinking that my memories were wrong. But I remembered what he did…” You remembered what he finally did. At the interview, at the manor, shooting you and… being stuck in that god forsaken mirror.

You felt a hand on your cheek, and turned to see Mark gently wiping tears away from your face. That also made you realize you were crying.

“Captain, it’s okay. We won’t let him hurt you. We’ll do anything for you,” Mark gave a reassured smile. Mack slowly, and hesitantly placed a hand on your shoulder, and gave you a tiny smile.

“We’re here for you,” He mumbled quietly, and you knew he genuinely meant it. You fully wiped the tears away and smiled at him.

You looked outside into the wide open void of space. You were used to seeing all of those corpses floating in space, the corpses of your failed attempts to make things right. And you finally had a loop that you could no longer see them, why should you give that up for one man?

“I’ve spent an eternity in hell, trying to have a perfect reality…” You mumbled, causing Mark and Mack to look at you. You slowly stood up and turned to them.

“And I’m not going let Wilford throw everything away, just for his games,” You gave them a determined look and you cracked your knuckles turning to the door.

“Captain, where are you going?” Mark asked as you fixed your uniform and gave them thumbs up.

“Distract Wilford, make sure he doesn’t get to me at the main controls,” You simply said and turned to run down the hall. Mack called after you, but you were gone.

“Come on, Mack, we need the others,” Mark interrupted him, tilting his head over the end of the hall. Mack gave one more look over to where you ran off to, and sighed.

“Let’s go,”

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“Just distract him, and Captain will do the rest,” Mack explained to the crew, who were in the former warped core room.

“They said that he likes interviewing people and talks about insane things. He also likes to talk about what he does and who he is a lot,” Mark piped in, looking around to make sure Wil wasn't around them.

“So, he’s as egotistical as Mack?” Celci raised an eyebrow, which made Gunther snort. Burt shook his head as Mack glared at Celci.

“I don't think anyone can reach his ego levels,” Mark nonchalantly said, and Mack elbowed him at the side.

“Anyways, let’s go right now before Wil gets to the Captain again,” Mack cleared his throat and motioned his hand to the crew, who got ready to get into action, but a voice was heard across the hall.

“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” Everyone froze, turning around to face Wil, who was standing down the hall, eyes glowing and head tilted as if he was curious.

“We heard your plan to take Captain away from us, and like hell we’ll let you take them away,” Celci accusingly stated, glaring at the man.

“Captain doesn’t want to go with you, they said so themselves,” Gunther took his sunglasses and growled.

“What Captain wants and needs is on this ship. Never on yours to be used for bad deeds,” Burt firmly said, crossing his arms.

“You need to leave now, Captain doesn’t approve of your surprise,” Mack lowly mumbled, clenching his fist.

“I’m not leaving this ship until part 3, because this story is getting longer than expected!” Wil stomped his foot, pouting and took a step closer to them, but Gunther readied his hand at his gun holster, warning him.

“You are leaving, without our Captain,” Mark lowly sneered, glaring at Wil. The man paused for a moment, then gave a dramatic sigh.

“Well then, my dear extras,” Wil mocked a sad look, and took out a gun from his hidden holster. That made Gunther take his own gun out immediately and aimed it at Wil. Burt instinctively pushed Celci, Mark, and Mack back while gripping his wrench.

“Your time of being characters in this story has ended,” Wil giggled loudly and waved his gun towards Mack’s direction.

“Don’t worry, you just have a bug on your face,” Wil grinned, and cocked his gun.

“Now, don’t. Move. A muscle,”

BANG

#in space with markiplier #iswm mack #iswm mark #iswm celci #iswm #iswm burt #iswm gunther #wilford warfstache #iswm x reader

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134340am · 2 years

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omgomg !! your vibe is def a comfort café ! you know,, toasty pastries, iced coffees, warm teas, a beautiful garden outside!! aaa soothing songs, fluffy chairs, all of it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

my sweet dilly! i'm sorry for the late reply, i wanted to really think about this ask and pull together some pretty pictures :*)

this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me... ; ; because it's a little dream of mine to be able to own a space like a comfort cafe!!! aside from serving delicious drinks and food, all homemade, i want it to be a space where people can come together and chat, work, study, listen to music, watch the sky go by, etc etc... there won't be a limited dining time or minimum spend because i want people to spend as much time there as possible, living life at 0.5x speed and healing in this little corner of the world far away from the outside.

i want it to be a biiiig space too (because there's nothing worse than showing up to your comfort cafe only to be turned away), maybe two floors or more? i want to have one floor dedicated to crowds and social activities—for friends and families to reconnect and chill. i'd put a foosball table there and a cute little jukebox in the corner, and a bunch of squishy couches for lounging or even napping.

the second floor would be a quieter space for solo patrons. it'd be smaller, a lot more intimate. here, you can read, crochet, draw, write, take pictures, zone out... just heal from the stress of being surrounded by people, yknow? there's something very liberating about sharing a quiet space with hundreds of other strangers.

overall, i want the place to be filled with lots of natural light and clean colours!!! and i'd put some pretty windchimes here and there too—the japanese glass ones that make a quiet tinkling sound. i think those are lovely. 🎐 if i had a rooftop i'll make it a simple space where people could sit and breathe in the fresh air. and it'd be nice if i could have my cafe near the sea because i love water :*)

anyways... i'm sorry i rambled! ^^; this is definitely just a humble dream for when i'm a lot older and more capable... for now i'm content with looking at pictures and sharing them with you :-) being told my vibe is a comfort cafe is a MASSIVE compliment and um i hope i can keep it up!!! i'll do my best (╯▽╰ )

#thank you for this dilly and sorry for rambling > <#beloved dilly #ask yuna #love letters for yuna

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freetheworms · 2 years

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3 and 9 for the writer asks! ~d-andilion

thanks so much lexi !!!

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

oh boy. well, i guess if i had to call something a "writing ritual" it would be making myself insane amounts of coffee, and then putting on a show to watch while i write, which. you guessed it, doesn't work at all, so i end up intermittently pausing the show AND my writing every 5 minutes. do i even need to explain why this is cursed?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

OKAY LISTEN. i didn't used to, okay? like, i wanted to but i was like hmmm probably not. and then. and THEN. let me paint you a picture of the events of 6 years ago, and apologies because this is going to get a bit long:

i was staying at my friend's house, which was built by her dead dad, right? right. so, there's 5 of us there, having a campfire out back: me, my friend, our two other guy friends, and my friend's ex boyfriend from before her dad died. i need you to know that he's a funny guy, but he was NOT a good boyfriend back in high school, and her dad knew this. he was not a fan of ex-bf.

anyway, so it's late, and it's time to come inside from the campfire. i come in first because i'm cold and they're taking forever and i don't want to help them fold up all the chairs. i was an asshole like that i guess, what can i say?

right, okay, so i'm sitting on the couch that lives in her kitchen for reasons i still don't quite understand. the couch has a clear view of the kitchen island AND the back door area though, which is blocked off from the kitchen on the right by a wall that creates a little open mudroom type situation. this is important because you have to understand that the setup means that my friends, who are filing in the back door, can't see the kitchen island past the wall. it also means that wind does not make it around the corner of the mudroom wall and into the kitchen.

well. all my friends make it inside, except ex bf. they're chatting amongst themselves in the mudroom area or whatever, when ex bf finally opens the door. AS he steps inside and before he closes the door, i watch a large pile of mail FLY off the end of the kitchen island furthest from the mudroom, and slam against the cupboards in front of it with an audible "thunk," before falling to the floor.

i'm the only one who's seen this though right, because my friends are useless and are still dilly-dallying in the mudroom. and so i'm just sat there like. okay. OKAY??? but i don't believe in ghosts at this point so i'm thinking naaaaah, nah. physics just broke for a sec and the non-existent wind did a thing. it's so fine. i forget about it.

cut to later, ex-bf is getting picked up by his older sister to go home. she takes a pic of the house to send to him to say "i'm here!"

he looks at the pic. "hahaha wow, there's a weird orb going on outside the house that my sister's freaking out about," he says, jokingly. i'm fine. i'm chillin. orbs happen, its cool. coincidence is super real and is what's happening here.

ex-bf leaves.

eventually, it's time for bed. friend and i are sharing her double bed, guy friends are sleeping haphazardly on her floor, no one is dead, it's fine. we sleep.

then 3:30 am comes around. i wake up for literally no discernible reason, which, whatever. that happens sometimes. i'm about to roll over and go back to sleep when my friend whispers something to me. oh, weird, okay. she's awake too. funny coincidence.

and then guy friends say something from down on the floor. okay.... so we're all awake at the same time for no reason. less normal, but fine. whatever. that could happen.

and then friend's bedroom door, previously all-the-way closed, creaks open. we have no windows open in the house, her cat isn't anywhere to be seen, and y'know. the door had been FULLY CLOSED???

we all look over. no one says anything.

then, just as quickly as it had opened, the door SLAMS itself shut, as if someone had opened it to check on us, seen who was in the room, and then closed it in a huff.

we did not sleep much the rest of the night.

anyway, i'm not saying my friend's ghost dad threw a little tantrum about her shitty ex-bf coming over to the house that he built, but i'm not NOT saying that.

so yeah, i guess i believe in ghosts now.

#as always i'm sorry this got so long i just. i just had to explain this one because i'm still not sure wtf happened #gracie answers

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unboundtravels · 6 months

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This fucking sound from tiktok just gave me so much visual stimulation regarding multi-doctor interactions. With November right around the corner, too, we're about to get a ton of anniversary multi-doctor stories, or at least... I assume so (looks at the big finish) so allow me to indulge in some One/Sixby/Bond/Scarf Four Doctor RAMBLES. If ever I wrote a fic about these four going on an adventure together, I would absolutely indulge my inner fan and use my incarnations as stand-ins for Hartnell/Troughton/Pertwee/Baker for that 1 - 4 multidoctor story we were denied. Although! Giving it my own spin is certainly a fun idea. I resist the urge to tag my players in this headcanon, because after this weekend's session— the idea of One needing to be put on a leash lives rent-free in my head. Watching her three future incarnations struggle to keep up with her is such a funny idea to me.

Additional rambles under the cut. Use this audio if you run out of claim, because honestly same vibes.

Just for reference. It's these four idiots.

Just imagine the idea of the exact order of Sixby meeting Bond, then Bond meeting Scarf. The absolute whirlwind of designs from cosmic Hobo Rat into Suave Secret Agent and then finally rounding it with insane Sherlock Holmes is probably why One is thankful that no one gets to remember multidoctor stories. Whether or not The Three Doctors happened in my timeline is also something I have to deal with. Do Bond and Sixby remember each other? And if so, is this a Sixby and Bond from before that meeting? Even though I like Two/Three being friends in canon, I'd probably leave it as a first meeting for everyone. If we take T3D's into account then I'd have everyone sort of... hounding Scarf the whole time, since he's the "latest model" relative to them. And I don't like when Multi-Doc stories dwell on the future too much. It's supposed to be a fun look at the past! Or at least, a subdued one, anyway. I'm always there for the character interactions.

One: Unhand me this instant!! Explain who you are!! All of you! Scarf: Please, just relax— One: Don't you patronize me! I know what you are! All those BLUE BOXES! I recognize a time capsule when I see one!! <She points towards Sixby, who suddenly shrinks in fear.> You. Explain. Sixby: Erm, ah. Well. It's like... this... you see, all of these people— well, not all of them— or— well, we're all you... Do y'see? Bond: Oh good lord, what the little troll is trying to say is that all three of us are your future regenerations. We've been pulled out from our time zones. Whatever the reason's yet to be determined. One: ... No. Scarf: Yes :)

It's extremely hard to imagine how a story between these four would even ultimately play out. I have trouble thinking up a plot, but perhaps some kind of pseudo-sequel to The Three Doctors, or something involving The Timelords sending the four on a mission together is the only likely scenario. This can easily explain how Sixby and Bond are collected, as the two have extenuating circumstances in which they are imprisoned by Timelords, while One and Scarf would have to be acquired remotely by either The Director of The CIA or by The President of Gallifrey. However, it absolutely does happen, meaning that the four have to try (very difficult) to work together in order to get back to their normal times.

One: Now, enough dilly-dallying! Let's get a move on! So I can be rid of you three! Bond: Good lord, woman's got fire. Sixby: Is this how they [the first team] felt? Scarf: We should really be asking if this is how people still feel.

Around the early to mid-70s, The Doctor started using The Sonic Screwdriver more. It becomes multipurpose, and while One and Sixby did acquire one during their era in this timeline— the idea of their reactions to how frequently Bond and Scarf use theirs is just.

Scarf: We should take some readings. Bond: Quite right. After you, then. <They pull out their sonic screwdrivers.> One: Heh! Heheheh!? You mean! You're going to take environmental scans with a lockpick!? So we're delusional now? Are we? Hm? Sixby, who started the trend: I'm not quite sure where they picked that habit up from.....

Also, introductions are always funny in a multidoctor story.

"Which of you is The Doctor?"

All together: I am! Bond: [Frustrated over how much it's happened today.] We really must find a way around this! Sixby: Well— [Exasperated laugh] I don't suppose we can use name tags? Scarf: [Teasing] A wonderful idea! We can call you tiny. One: Oh for heaven's sake!!! Will you all be quiet!? We're being held at gunpoint! Scarf: It's not like that's an irregular occurrence. Bond: You're really not helping. Scarf: Oh, and you'd know what helping is?

AND GOD. BEING STUCK IN A PRISON CELL.

Sixby: <Pulls out his recorder and starts to play it.> Scarf: They said incarceration! Not torture. Sixby: I was just trying to provide a bit of ambiance to our current situation. Bond: That's what we're calling it now? Sixby: It helps me concentrate! One: Well it breaks my focus! <Snatches it.> Now. Let's really focus! And figure out a way out of this cell!

I have more, but that's all I'll torment you with for now, dash. :>

#???. {out of character | ooc}#i. {the first doctor}#ii. {the sixby doctor}#iii. {the bond doctor}#iv. {the scarf doctor}#555. {character studies}

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goldenkirstein · 3 years

Text

She lives in daydreams with me

or alternatively, when jean and you visit Ikea

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 1.5k+

tags: fluff, modern! au, female reader, language, mentions of food.

a/n: I was inspired by this post, also I just like Ikea, I think Jean would to tbh. am i living out my own daydreams with Jean by writing this? potentially. i love him lol. Feedback and any criticism encouraged lmao.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Your head tilted as you stared dead-on at the boy in front of you.

“Jean, what is that?”

“What are you talking about baby, this is a-” He squinted, looking at the tag, of what you assumed to be a night light?

“An-garna.” Jean looked back up at you, grinning widely.

You had come earlier to Ikea, needing to buy some storage baskets for your room, and yet here you were standing in a miniature model of a child’s room, staring at the six-foot three-man holding a children’s night light, that had...Was that panda face design on it?

“Jean, my love, my dear, we don’t have kids; why on Earth would I need a children’s night light?” The toothy grin quickly disappeared from his face, quickly replaced with a stern expression.

“Just because something is marketed towards children doesn’t mean adults can’t buy it, and anyways I was merely suggesting it, knowing how you can’t sleep after watching horror movies.” It’s more like when he can’t sleep after watching, but his ego would never let him admit that.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, “put it in the cart, Kirstein.” He flashed you a smile, coming over and placing a kiss on your cheek before mumbling a small thank you.

As much as you would act annoyed or unamused when it came to Jean’s antics, it was more or less a front. You loved it when he would let his guard down in public with you. He wasn’t always like this; the Jean you met years prior would be caught dead before expressing his affections in public. He would get easily flustered, blush to sport his face if anyone he knew saw him admiring and doting on his girlfriend. It wasn’t something that deeply upset you; in a way, you were able to keep a tiny part of Jean to yourself, the goofy, tender side of him that he only let out when he was with you. However, watching him become more confident in himself and expressing his love for you outranked any desires that you had to keep Jean bottled up for your gratification.

He walked in front, long legs carrying him practically miles in front of you until he turned a corner and found himself situated in a living-room model. You followed shortly after and saw that he was making himself comfortable on a charcoal-grey couch.

“Mm, come sit,” he patted gently on the cushion next to him, gesturing to you to join him on the sofa. You raised your eyebrows and let out a giggle, situating the cart near a side table before accompanying him.

“What do you wanna watch babe,” Jean tilted his head, signalling to the fake flat-screen in front of you. You thought about tormenting the boy; however, you opted to play along with him this time.

“Oooh, I don’t know, check if the new Grey’s episode is out.” He smiled at you, appreciating your willingness to get lost in this daydream with him. His smile quickly shifted into a mischievous grin as he poked your side.

“Heyyy, what the fuck was that for!” You recoiled, shrinking away from him, but before you could get far enough away from him, he pulled you back into his side. You tried squirming away from him, only for his grip on you to get stronger, and you were met with a chuckle—the noise reverberating around the tiny living room.

“Really? Greys? On a night like this?” You shifted your body, turning your head to look at the “window” covered with sheer beige curtains, overlaid with opaque maroon ones. Outside, or rather you should say the wall was painted white, so you began drumming up a scenario in your mind. That was tonight, a spring evening, stars visible in the night sky? Or a cold and snowy winter’s night? The purple tinge of the atmosphere apparent through the translucent curtains. Jean stared at you intently, wondering what you will come up with, his gaze shifting as the corners of your lips upturned; you had settled on an idea.

“Oooh yeah, it’s practically pitch black outside; I can only see the streetlights in the distance. We should really do something about that pesky tree, though. Its branches keep tapping on the window; it’s frankly quite annoying.” A rosy tinge was present on his cheeks, hazel eyes twinkling at you.

You placed a hand on his chest, your focus entirely on the love-struck boy in front of you, “You know what? We should totally watch a horror movie!” Just as you began to immerse yourself in the daydream, Jean shot up from the couch, leaving an indent where he was sitting behind.

“Alright, enough dilly-dallying, we should go home now.” He clapped his hands together, moving to grab the cart to leave the store display.

Dilly-dallying? Did he really just say dilly-dallying?

“What’s wrong, Jean-boy? This is our home! Oooh, don’t tell me you don’t wanna watch because you’re scared.” You fell back on the couch, beaming, elbows propping you up as you teased him.

“Am not. I just decided that I’m in the mood for cinnamon rolls and fro-yo.” He placed his elbow on the handles of the cart, head resting in the palm of his hand. He gave you an unimpressed look.

“Oh really? Who’s that night-light for again? I seem to have forgotten.” This time it was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Without saying anything, he placed his hands back on the cart’s handle and began to leave the “living room.”

You swung your legs over, a giggle leaving your mouth as you walked over to your boyfriend. You wrapped your arms around his middle, resting your cheek on him. “Babe, I was just joking; I didn’t mean to upset you,” you mumbled into him.

He let out a sigh and stopped in the middle of the aisle. You watched as he brought one of his hands down to grasp one of yours that had taken hold of his waist. Jean turned to face you, head tilting as a slight smirk overtook his face. “That’s what I was waiting to hear.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning around to continue rolling the cart forward to his destination.

His arm extended behind him, motioning to you to hold his hand. You obliged, your palm sliding in his, fingers curling around your knuckles as his. “Whatever,” you grumbled, choosing to turn your head to observe the variety of rugs that were hanging on display. He tugged at your hand, an amused expression painting his face.

“You want those cinnamon buns or not, pretty girl?” The pet name almost made you choke. He knew what it would do to you. He would use it sparsely, only to coax a reaction out of you, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know the hold he had over you.

You whipped your head back to face him, confident to quip back at him, but it all melted when you saw the way he was looking at you; a lop-sided smirk, his tongue peeked out to wet his bottom lip before capturing it between his teeth. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for what you had to say.

“Yeah, I do.” You managed to slip a few words out. He had won this one, using his charms to debilitate any assuredness you had. He brought your linked hands up to his lips, tenderly kissing the back of your hand, humming in delight.

“You know, we should come here more often, live out our domestic daydreams together.” The smells of cinnamon buns were getting stronger as you walked on.

“Sure, but you could also just move in with me.”

The tips of his ears went red, and you paused, realizing what you just said, the weight of what you just said. You had thought about asking him to move in with you, but you didn’t mean for it to slip out in the middle of a random conversation; in Ikea nonetheless. “I- You don’t have to. I was just joking. I don’t know why I said that.”

Your voice dwindled to merely a whisper as you completed your sentence. Jean stopped the cart once more. “Yes. Yes, I’ll move in with you.” His expression was earnest as he looked at you, eyes glittering with adoration as he waited for your response.

“Whoa, whoa, hold your horses cowboy. We can talk about this after you get me those cinnamon buns you promised.” you wiped any sense of embarrassment from your face as you tried to suppress your laughter, which was caused by the zealousness your boyfriend had just shown.

However, there was no doubt that your heart did grow in fondness for Jean, and you were relieved that he wasn’t off-put by your haphazard confession. He was absolutely whipped for you, and you couldn’t deny that you were head over heels in love with him either. You desired to continue to share your life with him, and moving in together would be the next step in your relationship.

“Yes, Ma’am” His voice broke you out of your thoughts as he placed his hand to his forehead to salute you. You giggled at his actions.

“Lead the way, Kirstein.”

a/n: lol, this was practically for my own self-indulgence. and i feel like this was a tad bit ooc idk. Anywayssss, I would like to mention that I'm working on a navigation page with taglists and such and thinking about requests. I wanna branch out write for more aot characters as well as jjk and hq. Again, I'm very new to this so it's gonna take some time. I would love to know ur thoughts on all of this lol.

As always, please leave a like/reblog (i love reading tags makes me happy heh) if you enjoyed this, I appreciate lots <33

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babbushka · 3 years

Note

please can i have 9 from the nsfw prompts with pale please;)

2.2k, NSFW (rough sex at the dinner table, naked woman clothed man spanking, PIV, fingering, dirty talk)

The first time you sigh, Pale doesn’t think anything of it. You sighed sometimes, for lots of different reasons. Not everything had to fuckin’ mean something. It was a lovely evening, Pale was home early from work, you had the day off so he gave you some money so you could pamper yourself from head to toe, he cooked up a big delicious dinner -- if he says so himself, which he does -- and he even turned on the stereo set to play some soft music while you both ate.

The second time you sigh, Pale debates bringing it up. But then he figures nah, you’re the type of woman that says what’s on her mind. You don’t dilly dally around your opinions like some of these other broads do, trying to get their men to guess at what’s botherin’ them. No, that isn’t your style, not usually anyway.

“Alright,” He levels you a look, setting his fork down on the third time that you sigh, eventually giving into the bait and asking, “What’s the fuckin’ matter with you?”

Your eyes widen at the sharpness of his voice, and it’s then that Pale realizes maybe you didn’t know you were makin’ all them huffing puffing sounds as you pushed your dinner around your plate.

“Nothin’!” You frown, shruggin’ with one of your shoulders in that way of yours that meant something was definitely wrong. “Nothin’s the matter. It’s just...”

“Just what, c’mon, spit it out sweetheart you know I can handle it whatever it is.” Pale steels himself for something disastrous, holds his breath.

“You didn’t fuck me this morning.” You announce, sounding halfway between sad and annoyed, and if Pale had been chewing anything, he’d be choking.

“What?” He stares at you with a frown, and you shrug again, waving your hand around, sounding too much like your feelings are hurt when you explain;

“This morning. You left, without wakin’ me up, you know. Without givin’ me a good morning.”

Pale wracks his brain, because that didn’t sound right. That didn’t sound like Pale, not fuckin’ you or at the very least makin’ out with your cunt before he had to go to work. But then, oh right, he remembers that he had to leave too early, and wanted to be sweet to you for once, wanted to let you get your rest. Especially because,

“The last time I woke you up on your day off, you threatened to scratch my eyes out with your nails.” He reminds you, pointing the fork in your direction, belatedly noticing, “Which look real good by the way, I like that color.”

“Thank you I got them done before lunch, I thought I’d try somethin’ new out.” You brighten up for a moment, holding your hand out properly for him to take a good look at, before sighing again, “But you didn’t fuck me, and I’ve been thinkin’ about it all day.”

Raising your brows at him from across the table, he catches the desperation in your voice. That was the edge he had heard: you were hungry, but not for dinner.

“Oh, I see.” He pushes himself back from the table then, real slow-like.

It’s an invitation, one that you take immediately. Standing up from your chair, your hand trails along the table-cloth as you round the corner and settle yourself between his spread legs. From here, Pale can appreciate the tight, short dress you’ve got on, the gold chain around your throat, the diamonds in your ears. You look like a million’ fuckin’ bucks, and he’s hard in his pleated trousers because you’re all his.

“Do you?” You whisper, your voice gone all sultry as you bite at your lip. “Do you really? Because it’s real mean to make a girl wait all day long, especially when she looks like this.”

Tantalizingly slowly, you reach behind yourself and grasp at the little zipper that holds your dress up, tugging it down down down, the dress loosenin’ around your body and fallin’ to the floor as it goes.

“Are you asking me to fuck you stupid right here?” Pale’s gaze immediately goes to your breasts, his hands rushin’ up to give them a firm squeeze, thumbs rubbin’ circles over your nipples as they stiffen against the cool night air, “Is that it?”

“I’m not askin’.” Your eyes glint.

With one quick movement, Pale’s surging up to kiss you, hot and heavy right on your mouth, messing up your pretty lipstick, smudging and smearing it all around. And then as quickly as he’s there, he’s pulling away, turning you around and bending you over the table at a nice clean spot that doesn’t have any dishes, kickin’ your feet apart.

He doesn’t waste time shoving one of his hands between your legs, because of course you ain’t wearin’ any panties, of course not -- why would you when it’s just the two of you here in his apartment?

“Christ look at how wet you are baby, been wet for me all fuckin’ day huh? Did you touch yourself and think of me? Think of how I can do it so much better for you?” He drapes his body over you, relishes in the way your ass is already pressing against the hard line of his cock in his trousers.

Pushing his pointer and middle finger all the way up into your pussy, it’s all you can do to gasp out a moan and clutch at the tablecloth. He wishes he could watch the way his fingers disappear into you, but he’s glued to your back and biting sucking licking at your exposed shoulder, drinking in the sound of your moans and that’s good enough for now.

“Yes!” You push your hips back back back against his hand, grinding down as they crook and curl up inside you, searching for that special spot that has stars dancing behind your eyelids, “Fuck I love your fingers, you make me feel so good Pale.”

“My little slut can’t go one day without somethin’ up her cunt, ain’t that right. I’m sorry sweetheart, I shoulda known better, shoulda given you somethin’ to hold you over ‘til I came back. But I’m here now, I’ll take care of this pussy just the way you need.” With his other hand, Pale fumbles around with his belt buckle, wrenching it open so that he can yank down his zipper and fish out his cock.

“Please! It’s no fun comin’ when you ain’t here.” You moan as he slips in his ring finger too, the stretch of all three making your knees turn in, your thighs shake.

“That’s what I like to hear baby, spread your fuckin’ legs for me.” Pale grunts, and you do as he says, knowing you’ll get the best fucking of your life for it -- because that’s what every time you have sex with Pale feels like.

Barely the tip is in before you’re already having to take deep breaths, having to steady yourself and open up your hips, because of how fucking huge his cock is. You’d been together for damn near two years, and it still always came as a surprise. He rubs the head of his cock through your soaked folds, and even though he fingered you open, it’s still an effort to thrust himself in, his cock so big that if you didn’t know you could take it, you might panic.

“Shit you’re tight, damn, relax for me, one day without my dick ain’t an eternity, your pussy remembers, just relax.” He’s right there, draped over your back again, his mouth right on your ear as he coaxes you and soothes you, and he’s right, even though it doesn’t feel like it.

“It feels like an eternity! Oh fuck, yes Pale, keep goin’ please, please I want more.” You moan when your body listens, when you let your hips widen, your legs spreading even further, thighs already shaking and toes already curling as he manages to push in deep deep deep -- bottoming out with only a few more thrusts.

And then, once it’s in, Pale’s pulling out -- thrusting back into you so hard that the sound of your moan is swallowed by the scrape of the table against the floor, as he builds up a brutal rhythm that has you holding on for dear life, your mouth dropped open from pleasure.

“Got you trained for my cock don’t I? Ruined you for everythin’ else, just my girl. Goddamn you’re beautiful. You know I don’t get to see your back all that fuckin’ often?” With his fingers pulled out of your pussy, Pale keeps one hand on your hip to steady you, and slaps your ass hard with the other one, the sound of sweaty skin smacking together going straight to his cock.

“Yeah ‘cause I’m always layin’ on it.” You laugh brightly, the tail end of it dissolving into a throaty moan that has Pale sweating in his fuckin’ dress shirt, has him biting down against your shoulder, marking you up.

“When’s the last time I told you you’re perfect?” He grunts as he thrusts into you hard hard hard, fast and steady, his cock pulling out and then slamming right back in, slapping your ass again so hard that you’re keening, that you’re shouting out his name.

“Pale! Tell me again anyway -- oh! Oh right there, fuck, oh my god!” Your shoulders jolt and shiver, because he’s found the spot his fingers had missed, and he’s got to press you back down onto the table when you try and snap up from the surprise of it.

“That’s it baby feel how deep I am inside of you, I’ll treat you right, make you come so hard.” Pale pets back your hair as he grinds his cock into your pussy, his dick hard and throbbing inside the tight clutch of your velvety walls.

You’re getting fucked so hard that your feet are barely on the floor anymore, legs kicking up from the sheer overwhelming sensation of being so full.

“Yes!” You moan, clenching and squeezing around him, wanting to give as good as you get, “Yesyesyes, more Pale, harder I can take it.”

“That’s fuckin’ right you can, my best girl, fuck, fuck you’re so good on my cock, I could live here, right inside this pretty pussy that’s all for me, feelin’ you come again and again. You want that? Want to be my little cockwarmin’ slut forever?” He grunts, punctuating his sentences with slaps to your ass, licking up your cheeks where tears have spilled over, your chest heaving against the table, begging for more.

“Yes!” You keep pushing back against him, chasing the feeling, hot pleasure coiling up inside your stomach, rising on the edge of tipping over, you’re so close, just a little more, that’s all you’ll need -- and Pale knows it.

“Gonna come all over me?” He asks, but it’s more of a plea, and he kisses at your throat as he fucks you through your tears.

“Y-yes!” Your body is pinching up then, and you’re hiccuping around a moan, and your pussy throbs and pulses around him as you shout, “Oh fuckfuckfuck -- !”

“Attagirl.” Pale doesn’t let up even as you come, even as the slick drips down your thighs, soaks into his trousers. The hand that’s resting on your hip reaches around and toys with your swollen clit, making you whine out his name, “That’s okay baby keep sayin’ my name, let the neighbors know who’s treatin’ you right.”

“Pale...! Pale oh -- oh I’m --!” You shudder again, whole body goin’ through it, as pleasure crashes through you hard, hard enough to pull Pale over the edge too, and he presses you against the table a little more forcefully under the weight of his own body going limp on top of you.

After a moment, when you’ve both had the chance to catch your breath, he blindly reaches behind him until his hand manages to grasp his chair, and then he’s sitting back down onto it, taking you with him.

You look like a fucking mess, completely glassy-eyed and smiling like the cat that got the damn cream, and Pale doesn’t want you anywhere or anyway else all night, saying as much, “You better just sit here for the rest of the night.”

“Oh yeah?” You giggle, love drunk in the best way, your bones like jello.

“Yeah, it’s safer here.” He kisses your cheek, wishes he had a cigarette to light up. He could go get one from his jacket pocket, but then he’d have to get up, and there’s no fucking way he’s doing that.

“Okay. But my dinner’s over there.” You protest, settling firmly on his cock that’s still hard, still pumping you full of his load.

“Yeah well, shoulda fuckin’ thought about that before you decided to go and be a brat.” Pale sighs, making you lightly swat at his chest. “Alright alright alright, you can have some of mine.”

Brightening up at that, you reach for his fork that had gotten all jostled in the meanwhile, and reach out to pluck something off his plate, being nice enough to let him have the first bite, before eating the rest.

“And then when we’re done eatin’, I’ll fuck you again. Ya know, for good measure.” Pale licks across his teeth, making you grin, because as far as you’re concerned, he’s got a whole day to make up for.

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

Tagging some Pale loving friends!

#adam driver fanfic #adcu #pale burn this #burn this broadway #adam driver burn this #pale smut #pale imagine #jimmy pale #my writing

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daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

Flowers Have Feelings

summary: it's valentines and you're making some gifts for your good pal douxie,,, also confessing

warnings: swearing probably, no proofread cause tired

word count: 2659

a/n: i've been struggling with writers block. i guess. i've returned to this only to write like, a paragraph so many times. which is bad cause like cheese designed the bouqeut and this should have been done ages ago. idk idk bon appetit

tags: @yagirlcheesely, is for you

image below: sketch of the bouquet

You jumped out of bed and slammed your alarm. Today was the day. You had to get everything ready today. Tonight would be the presentation. The night you finally do it. The night you confessed to your closest friend and crush, Douxie. Also happened to be Valentine’s day.

Your friends may have told you: “Just be patient. Drop hints. If he likes you, he’ll let you know.” But you weren’t about that passive love life. You liked to grab that strawberry cow by the horns. Subtly was boring and took far too long. You were in love with your friend and you were gonna let him know frankly if it killed you. It probably would, to be honest.

As confident as this makes you sound, you were aware of the possibility of him not liking you back, and that was okay. Sure, your heart would be shattered and you might not be very peachy for, say, a month or six, but you accepted that. At first, you had resigned yourself to just adoring him secretly. But you quickly grew impatient with that. What were you afraid of, really? Him letting you down gently, and ushering you two into an era of awkwardness? Okay so maybe that was worth considering. But not really. You wouldn’t let it come to that. Even if he did turn you down, you weren’t about to let that fact taint your friendship like that. You two were very close, and Douxie wasn’t the kind of guy to suddenly treat you differently after such a thing. Just a few weeks of awkwardness at most before all was forgotten (on his end at least). Only a problem for you. But, boy, it would be really, really nice, and not awkward, if he reciprocated.

You and Douxie were thick as thieves. There wasn’t a thing you hadn’t told each other. Not a secret between a pair of buddies as close as you. Oh, one thing, you know. The fact that you had caught feelings, that was definitely something you had kept secret from him. As eager as you were to do so, you couldn’t just drop a bombshell like that at any old time. That’s why you chose today of all days to confess; a little extra luck from St. Valentine. A little magic to give you a boost, placebo or not. This was going to happen. This was going to work.

You strapped on your helmet, safety first, before heading out on your bike. You cleared your schedule for the day cause you weren’t really sure if everything would work out or not. You could have everything done and ended wrapped up neatly in a few hours, or you could have a complete disaster on your hands, which could take up all your time. Time you would happily give, since you were determined for everything to be perfect. It was also nice to know you didn’t have to come in to work later,, lest you spend the whole night, crying your eyes out. You shuddered at the possibility. You were gonna stop thinking about that now. Yeah, only confidence now.

You may be a teensy bit sleep deprived. Only a teensy bit. You chugged a monster this morning, you’ll be fine. It wasn’t your fault you were up all night researching flower language. There were so many flowers, and those flowers had so many feelings. Eventually though, you managed to settle on a bouquet of roses, daisies, and dandelions. Fern leaves for greenery too. Greenery was important for flower arrangements. It tied the whole thing together. While it wouldn’t be the most on theme color scheme, the yellows, whites, reds, and greens, would mix together prettily. You definitely didn’t have to go as far as this, and you were banking on the fact that Douxie even knew flower language, but it was sweet, it was romantic. And you were going to be romantic about this, dammit.

Daisies, for friendship. It was really important that you communicate just how much you valued Douxie’s friendship and how nothing would change between you two if he were to not return your feelings. Red, red roses, classic romance. There was a reason the blooms were so strongly associated with the valentines holiday itself; no one sees a red rose and thinks of anything other than love and romance. A clear message to your beloved. And well, the dandelions? Cheery, beautiful, resilient, common weeds, never to be approved of, finding the strength to bloom despite assholes like Merlin’s best efforts. Dandelions were Douxie’s favorite flower.

Too bad the florist didn’t even consider them to be anything but said common weed. You had included them in your order when you called it in and you could hear the florist laugh, but muffled as if he put his hand over the receiver, before returning to the phone to inform you that you would have to add them yourself. Pretty rude, if you say so. No matter, hand-picked dandelions would be romantic, anyways. Even if no one else knew about it but you.

You placed the bouquet neatly into the basket of your bike. You’d pick the dandelions to complete it later, right before the big confession, in order to keep them fresh. But as of now, the bouquet peaked out of your basket, the floral fragrance wafting up to your face as you made your way to the next store.

Last week, you had seen such an adorable little box of chocolates. It had chocolates shaped like little skulls, flowers, and ghost cats, and the box had a silly pun about death. Goth chocolate, def. It would have been perfect for the edgy wizard in your life, but alas, it was way too fucking expensive. Like obscenely expensive. But no matter, you’d just steal the idea. How hard could making chocolate be anyway?

You left the grocery store with your haul safe in your skull-patterned reusable shopping bag. Wizard-chic and eco-friendly, it was your favorite bag. The contents of the much-loved bag? Melting chocolates, a jar of marmalade, a jar of raspberry jam, a jar of strawberry jam, and a new roll of wax paper, since you were out. Now you weren’t as ambitious as to make your own jam here. This was a failsafe. There are only so many ways to ruin chocolates if you did not make the chocolate nor the filling yourself. Now just a quick run in the stationary shop on your way home for a cute box, and you were all ready to start your chocolatier career.

* * *

Douxie was getting antsy. Not many patrons had paid a visit to his bookstore this afternoon. Which was strange for valentine’s. and it left him with nothing but his thoughts to entertain his anxious mind. Doux had a lot to worry about. His band had a gig in a new town, so he wasn’t sure how they would be received. He was waiting on a shipment of books that was supposed to show up days ago. It may have gotten lost. That Lake kid was getting himself into more and more trouble these days and it was starting to become hard to help out without overstepping his vaguely imposed bounds. But most of all, at the very moment, he was worried about you.

You had asked him to meet up for dinner tonight. Okay, pretty normal for a Sunday night. Not that the weekend meant anything to either of you, but you normally set aside Sunday for dinner hangout. So nothing to abnormal. But then. Then, you said, something… Douxie actually can’t recall what you said, per se, just that it was along the lines of “we need to talk.” And that your tone sounded nervous. He did not like that one bit, nope nope. He had spent a great part of the day just revisiting every interaction the two of you had had in the last month or so, desperate to figure out if he did something wrong. But he was coming up blank, for all his efforts. Across the room, the clock ticked on. It would be closing time soon enough, and then he’d no longer have to wonder just what he did wrong, as you would be there to tell him directly. Fuzzbuckets, he couldn’t wait.

* * *

You wiped the goopy chocolate off of your cheek with the back of your hand. So far this wasn’t a total disaster. You had at least seven chocolate skulls filled and drying in the molds. The white chocolate seemed to have melted smoother than the regular chocolate? The regular chocolate ones looked kind of lumpy. You hoped they came out of the molds okay. Not to mention the ones you already messed up. A little mountain of chocolate pieces and jam had started rising from your table top corner.

It had been lots of fun at the start. melting the chocolates with a double boil, planning out which molds would be which flavors. But actually filling those molds? A messy, messy ordeal. You had chocolate and jam all over your kitchen, up to your exposed elbows, and even a little in your hair. But that was okay. You’d clean the kitchen later. With the molds in the freezer to set, your priority now was cleaning yourself up rather than the kitchen.

And you cleaned up nice, if you did say so yourself. You got the chocolate out of your hair, and had on a fresh outfit, taking a little time to put effort into your style. You looked snazzy, but not too fancy. You needed to stay casual. Something that you hoped would make Douxie be like ‘wow they look pretty okay’ but not freak him out with formality. Yeah. This was good.

Your watch beeped. Okay, you needed to get out of here, no more dilly dallying. You pulled the candies you made out of the freezer. Moment of truth. Thank the stars, all of the chocolates came out of the molds smoothly without breaking. You arranged them in the cute circular box you set up earlier and folded the tissue paper over them. They all fit in perfectly. The cheesy valentine card, the most important part, didn’t quite fit on top of the candies, you’d have to put it with the bouquet. You slid the lid onto the box and fastened a bow around it with a blue ribbon. Maybe this was a bit overkill, but Douxie knew how to appreciate the dramatic. He’d love it, you were sure.

Last but not least, you headed to the greenspace across the street from your apartment for the final ingredient in your Douxie wooing, dandelions. You were lucky that the empty lot had recently bloomed an entire garden’s worth of the yellow things. The chilly breeze mussed up your newly-fixed hair as you danced about gathering the tiny flowers, adding to the bouquet until you felt like it was enough. Which took longer than you had hoped. You definitely could have kept adding in more dandelions but your watch beeped once again and you had no choice but to make peace with the level of yellow and book it to the bookstore where you and Douxie were supposed to meet before heading out for the night.

* * *

Hearing the ding of the door chime, Douxie turned around to kindly inform the customer who came in that he wasn’t open, but the words caught in his throat when he was met with your smile. There you were, standing in the shop with a box in one hand and flowers in the other. You looked cute. Really cute. But Douxie chased that thought away. He fumbled with the book he had been re-shelving. It fell out of his hand unceremoniously, landing with a thud.

“Hey,” Doux managed to get out. “What’s all-”

“These are for you!” you shoved the presents into his now empty hands. That courage you had earlier? Gone. Your resolve? Dissolving as we speak. You had to get this over with before you chickened out. He was just so good, okay. And why did you think this was a good idea. Douxie looked down at the gifts in his hands confused, before blushing. If he could have reached a hand behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck he would have.

“I didn’t know we were doing Valentine’s, uh. I feel bad I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh! Don’t be. I just,, felt like doing something nice for you and uh, special,” Douxie tilted his head. You took the box, freeing up his hand. “These are chocolates I made, like, like you’re supposed to do.” You waltzed over to the counter to place them out of the way. “The bouquet is the real star here, uh, I picked them out very carefully.” You tucked your arms behind your back. “I, uh- I brushed up on flower language, and I hope I got it right.”

Now Douxie may have been a Victorian once upon a time but he had barely any surviving memory of the frilly flower language people socialized through in those days. But thankfully, the blooms in the bouquet in front of him were straight forward enough that he did in fact get the message without taking too much gear turning in that noggin of his. Although, the friendly daisies with the red roses were kind of sending him some mixed signals. He knew what he wanted them to mean, but he could just be misinterpreting. You seemed to notice his hesitation.

“Um, there’s a card too. In the flowers somewhere. That. Probably explains what I’m trying to say a little clearer.” You carded your fingers through your hair. You had anticipated not being able to really speak with your voice, as you barely could now, so you’d written it all out on the card as backup. But damn, that card had everything on it. You maybe got a little carried away. There wasn’t going to be any going back from this.

Douxie dug out the card from amidst the blooms. It was handmade, with a cheesy little drawing on the front complete with a pun. And then he opened it. It was almost solid black with ink. Yeah, you had written that much in there. Both sides. And a little on the back. Wow. Doux tried his best to keep up a poker face while reading it but failed quickly as the first few lines alone left him flushed. It was true, everything was on it. From how much you adored Douxie as a person, to how much you valued his friendship, to how pretty you thought he was, to how you longed for something more, with him? Douxie felt like his hands were getting the card all sweaty.

It was nerve wracking watching him read that card. It seemed like he was finished, since his eyes stopped raking through it, but now he was staring intensely at the words written on the pages, in a trance. He broke focus, looking to the bouquet, back to the card, and then finally settled on you.

“Wow.”

“… is that a good wow?”

Douxie caught you by surprise. He pulled into a hug. “Yeah, a good wow.”

You and Douxie’s first non-platonic hug? Yes please. You didn’t even mind the flowers pressing into your back. Okay so a few rose thorns were poking you but that was fine. Douxie smelled like something you couldn’t name, but it was spicy, and cozy. He let you go sooner than you were ready to, but he grinned at you as he left to rummage through his things in the back for a vase. He turned to you as he proudly displayed them on the store’s counter, right where he could look at them all workday,

“So, where are we going tonight? For our first date?” Doux chuckled, “and, technically, our first Valentine’s day too.”

#valentines💘#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie casperan imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #my writing

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harringrovetrashrat · 4 years

Text

“I’m telling you, Maxine, this guy is a total bitch! His hair smelled all flowery and he was in the dumbest windbreaker all day—“

“Who?”

“Keep up, Maxine,” Billy sneered. “Harrington! Steve Harrington!” He smacked the wheel, rings clinking as he did. “Former King of Hawkins High. He definitely carries himself like he thinks he shits gold,” Billy mumbled. Max stared at him, eyes half lidded and unimpressed.

“So? Like you ever let that kind of thing stop you before.” Billy smirked, tongue poking out between his teeth. His smirk faded, switching to another scowl as they turned onto Cherry Lane.

“I’m definitely gonna be King,” Billy said. “But I’m sure as hell gonna make him notice.” Max raised a brow, but Billy didn’t even look at her, staring out the windshield, one hand pressed to his lips in thought.

Looking back, that was the beginning of it. Max really should have seen it coming.

—

“—and then I knocked him down, ‘cause he has no idea how to plant himself,” Billy rambled. Max was glaring at her fists, tired of the Party and their stupid rules. Billy’s rambling about Steve Harrington was a welcome distraction. “God,” Billy smacked the wheel. “I fucking hate that guy! I swear, he just bats his lashes and gets what he wants!”

“I doubt that,” Max said, just to be contrary. Billy scoffed.

“You got no idea, shrimp,” he said. “Boy could get outta burpees with a well placed blink.” Max looked at Billy from the corner of her eye.

She wondered if he even noticed.

—

Max eyed Billy, quiet in the driver’s seat. He stared out the windshield, face carefully blank, not bothering her. His music played, loud, and Max stared at the volume knob. Sure, he was an asshole, had deserved the wake up call, but Max missed his bitching. Missed him complaining about dumb shit.

She just kinda missed Billy.

Max reached out and turned down the music. Billy glared at her, furrowing his brow.

“Uh, you know the rules, Maxine.” She just rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I just wanted to ask you something.” Billy rolled his eyes, but didn’t say no. “So like, now that I know Steve, I totally get that whole yuppie prep thing you mentioned. Did you know he has all of Madonna’s tapes?” Billy’s face morphed in pain and he let out a groan.

“Seriously? Harrington’s more of a girl than you!” Max glared, slapping at his bicep. Billy just snickered, eyes narrowing slightly in worry and distrust. But he let it slide, so Max took what she could get. “And he listens of his own free will? Not to impress the princess?”

“Nancy doesn’t really care about Madonna. Doesn’t dislike her, but doesn’t love her the way Steve does,” she said. Billy let out an annoyed squawk, finally breaking the silence and going on a tirade about why Harrington sucked because of his taste in music.

Max smiled to herself.

“So,” Max said, wiggling her eyebrows at Billy, who just shoved at her shoulder lightly, frowning. “Saw you and Steve chatting before we came out.” She didn’t miss the light flush in Billy’s cheeks.

“No one else even remotely cool to talk to. I had to make do,” he replied, not convincing her one bit.

“Oh yeah, sure,” she agreed, over the top. Billy just scowled at her. “It’s just, you know, you always say you hate his guts.” Billy gave a one shoulder shrug.

“Maybe I spoke to soon. He’s still the worst, still a prep with horrible taste in music, but yanno. He at least doesn’t needle me with annoying questions.” Max scoffed at his tone.

“Whatever.” Billy gave her the side eye, lips pursing.

“Why?” He asked, tone lightly accusing. “What’re you getting at?”

“Just wondering when I can expect you to start playing Wham.” Billy made a retching noise.

“Don’t speak that name in my car! Not my sanctuary!” Max cackled, tossing her head back. It came deep from her gut, deep down, and she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed this hard with Billy. Judging by the small smile on his face, and the light in his eyes, he was thinking the same thing.

It was quiet in the car, tension oozing off of Billy as he drove, cutting corners too close and too fast. Max gripped the seat, eyes darting over to Billy occasionally. He was staring out the windshield, jaw clenched so tightly a nerve was jumping clearly against his skin. Max bit her lip.

“How was I supposed--”

“I’m not mad at you, Max,” Billy grit out. Which was a lie, but Max understood what he meant. He was mad at both of them. The car was quiet again and Max had never, in her life, wanted to hear Billy yelling. Wanted to feel the brunt of his anger instead of the building, seething energy that was radiating off of him.

“They all had to sign something,” Max said, keeping her voice as even as she could. Billy didn’t reply, just took a sharp turn and exhaled sharply through his nose. “The government made them, Billy. He wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t,” Billy replied. And, oh, that wasn’t just anger. It was barely anger. Max looked at him again, mind racing as Billy’s nostrils flared again. His posture was all anger, all rage, but his voice was pure betrayal. Pure sadness.

Max had no idea what to say. She picked at a loose thread on the ripped knee of her jeans.

“They thought it was done,” she tried. “That night--”

“Max,” Billy rasped, cutting her off. “Just. Shut up.”

“But--”

“I trusted him, okay?” Billy finally snapped. Max leaned back, well and truly shocked. “I trusted him, and I really thought--” Billy cut himself off, giving Max a fearful glance. She tried to convey everything she was feeling into one look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Billy sniffed, feigning nonchalance, but Max could see his eyes watering. “Whatever. It doesn’t fucking matter, ‘cause obviously he doesn’t trust me.”

Max had no idea how she could convince Billy he was wrong.

“Are you ever gonna talk to Steve again?” Max stirred her sundae, mixing the remaining hot fudge in with the vanilla ice cream. Billy shrugged, biting into his Dilly Bar with more aggression than was strictly necessary.

“Dunno,” he replied curtly.

“Are you ever gonna stop being mad at him?” She stirred more, swallowing thickly. Billy just shrugged again.

“Dunno.” Max felt her heart beat a little faster, felt her eyes and cheeks get hot in the way she hated because she hated crying.

“Are you ever gonna stop being mad at me?” She wanted it to come out stronger, but her voice could barely manage a whisper without cracking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Billy pause. Heard him shuffle a little.

“Listen, Max,” he said, voice low and serious. “I don’t like being lied to. You know that. I get why you did it. I do. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He was quiet a moment, cracking off some of the cherry shell to eat. “It’s different with Steve.” Max sniffed, rubbing harshly at her eyes. Billy sighed, leaning across the console to pull her into his side. She leaned, tucking her head into his armpit, leather jacket warm and comforting.

“So you don’t hate me?” She asked weakly.

“Could never hate you, shitbird.” Max snorted. “Get annoyed by? Oh, for sure.” He laughed as Max shoved at him, scowling, but she wasn’t crying anymore. “But hate you? Nah, you’re too cool for that.” Billy shot her narrowed eyes and pointed at her, taking another bite of Dilly Bar. “Tell anyone that and your ass is grass. I got a reputation to keep.” He spoke with his mouth full and it was disgusting, but still, Max smiled.

“You’re so gross, I don’t know why Steve even misses you.” She meant to be teasing, but Billy shut down, face closing off. She looked away, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Sorry.”

“He misses me?” His voice was carefully blank, everything about him screaming indifference, so Max knew he cared a lot about her answer.

“Keeps asking me to tell you he’s sorry and wants to talk since you keep avoiding him,” she replied, voice just as carefully neutral. Billy was a fight risk, a flight one too, and she wasn’t going to fuck things up for him. Not after California. Not after they had to move. Billy didn’t say anything, just shoved the remainder of his ice cream in his mouth and tossed the stick out the window. “That’s littering,” Max said, on reflex. Billy rolled his eyes, but opened the car door and picked up the stick. He turned around, glancing from her unfinished sundae and back to her. She held it out and he took it, tossing both items in the trashcan outside the Dairy Queen. He got back in and closed the door, but didn’t start the car up.

“You know if he’s gonna be home tonight, or has the geek squad taken up all his time now that he’s got no one cool to hang with?” He was playing for normal, but Max knew he needed to talk to Steve now, or it wouldn’t happen. She’d have to walkie Dustin and get him to drop his Star Wars Marathon, which would be a fucking nightmare, but it was worth it for the way Billy relaxed when she answered,

“He’ll be home. We’re all busy anyway.”

“You can’t say anything.” Billy’s voice was shaky, breath short and shallow. “You can’t.”

“I won’t, Billy, I swear,” Max promised. He was staring out the windshield, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. His nostrils flared and he bit his lip.

“Max--”

“I fucked up last time,” Max said. Billy’s breath was sharp and he pressed his palm to his eye quickly, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t-- I didn’t get it,” she said, voice getting quieter. She looked at Billy, who was still staring out the window. He was trying so hard, but she could see his chin wobble and the tension around his eyes.

It made her breath hitch.

“And now?” Billy asked, voice barely above a harsh whisper. Max wasn’t sure what to say.

“He doesn’t need to know anything about either of our lives that doesn’t comply with his ideals.” Billy licked his lips slowly mouth a tight line. He gave a sharp jerky nod and let out a laugh that seemed more like releasing a noise so he didn’t scream.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah.” Things were quiet again. Billy seemed to be calming down, but Max needed to say it. It was the time.

“I’m sorry, Billy, for that. I really am.” The car jerked to a stop as Billy pulled to the side of the road. Someone behind him honked and he gave them the finger. Things were quiet in the car, so Max pressed on, nervous in the silence. “You’re an asshole like, all the time, but you--” She let out a shaky breath. “You never deserved that. You don’t deserve what Neil--”

“Max.” Billy’s voice broke and Max snapped her head up, shocked when she saw he was crying. He had an arm pressed to his eyes as he took a gasping breath, trying to calm himself down. Max swallowed with difficulty, taking a deep breath. Finally, Billy’s breath slowly evened out, though it went through him in deep shudders, controlled and cautious.

“Just. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose. It’s-- It’s not your fault.” Max felt tears welling up in her eyes and she hated it. It was ridiculous. Both of them, in the car, trying to not cry while talking about their feelings.

She couldn’t say that even a month ago she could have imagined this happening. Maybe in California, someday, if things hadn’t happened the way they did, but after the move? She didn’t think she’d ever be close to Billy again.

“But--”

“I put a lot of my shit on you, Max,” Billy said. “I put almost all of my shit on you, and you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve what I did. Neither did Steve, or Lucas.” Max stared at him, hot tears falling down her cheeks because she just couldn’t stop them. Her emotions were swirling around inside her, and she could feel them trying to bubble out in any possible way.

“Thank you,” she mumbled after a moment, sniffling. Billy shrugged, wiping aggressively at his eyes.

“What’s up with you and him anyway?” Billy asked, changing the subject. It was an olive branch, telling her he couldn’t talk feelings anymore, but that they were okay.

“He’s being a total dorkus maximus again, so I had to break up with him.”

“Yeah, right, of course.”

“Shut up!”

Max had her feet up on the seat as she sat across the backseat. Her seat belt cut into her weird, but it felt good having her back pressed against the side as the wind ruffled her hair. It came in through Billy’s open window, cool in the summer morning breeze. Billy had picked her up, promising to take her to the mall today, and when he had arrived, Steve was in the passenger’s seat.

“My car won’t start, so Billy’s giving me a ride since you guys are going this way anyway!” Max had chatted with him a bit, but it had quickly died down. She knocked her knees together anytime there was a significant bump in the road, occasionally looking up and out at the boring cornfields, that weren’t too boring, maybe, when they were all green like this.

Movement drew her eyes forward, and she watched as Steve slowly reached out, resting his hand on top of Billy’s on the gear shift. He pulled Billy’s hand away, turning it over to thread their fingers together and rest them on his thigh. When Max looked up, she saw a glimpse of the smile on his face as he turned to look out the window. Max’s eyes darted over and caught Billy’s in the rear view mirror. He looked scared, nervous, but also so happy and carefree. She hadn’t seen him this happy in such a long time.

Max smirked, making mocking kissy faces at him. Billy’s eyes widened before they rolled. He stuck his tongue out at her before looking back at the road.

#Billy Hargrove #max mayfield #billy and max #mentions of harringrove #like it's a big part but also this is a max and billy exploration #i just.... wish we had gotten to see more of their relationship is all #but hey #at least i get to make it gay lolololololololol #flangst #angst #it gets kinda emotional between them #but also they're sarcastic bbies yanno #there's cute and sad and happy and conflicted and a happy end

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saiilorstars · 3 years

Text

Planning is Everything

***One-Shot*** // Masterlist to other stories

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer x OFC

Summary: With the holidays around the corner, everyone starts making their plans to celebrate with their loved ones. Spencer has trouble making those plans when the one person he wants to plan with doesn't really know about his feelings. Maybe things can change when Penelope unexpectedly brings him to Aitana's house for a full day of Christmas decorations.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @maaaaarveeeeel @anotherunreadblog @stareyedplanet

[If you would like to be added to this OC’s taglist please let me know!]

Pronunciation of the OC’s name sounds like “eye-ta-na”

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The holidays were thought to be the best time of the year. Spencer supposed it was true if you had everybody around for the period. He heard countless plans that everyone at work were making. JJ of course was planning everything around her boys—she and Will were taking them out God knew where but it would be amazing. Emily and Luke had a few of those holiday-themed dates around the city. Matt was the same as JJ: it was all about the kids. Rossi differed in that he only had his wife to worry about. Tara and Penelope seemed to love the Christmas events in the city, they were out together whenever they could.

He...he couldn't find the energy to partake in any of those plans. He would like to but he had other places he would rather be, places he would really rather be.

No one was surprised when it one day slipped from him. They knew exactly who he wanted to spend all these Christmas days with. She was the only one who hadn't figured it out.

Aitana Serrano could be one of their best profilers but when it came to their own Dr. Spencer Reid, she was quite clueless. She really couldn't see it. And it wasn't like Spencer was a master at hiding it either. His skills at hiding his expressions and watching his body language took a dive when she was around. The good thing is that she was always around him anyways. She liked being around him and the reason for that wasn't that hard to figure out. Thankfully, the two had a very good set of friends watching out for them. They were always looking for ways to nudge them a little closer to each other.

And what better time than the holidays?

"Hey," Penelope tapped the back of Spencer's head, startling him out of his thoughts. He had paperwork set in front of him and he thought he would be able to finish them before going home. "I'm stopping by Aitana's tomorrow morning. She's getting her Christmas tree tomorrow and we're going to decorate it."

"Sounds like fun," Spencer smiled at her.

Penelope almost snorted at the little sad puppy smile that it was. "Don't be dumb, Wonder Boy, and come with me."

"What? No, no, Aitana invited you and..." He didn't want to just invite himself over if Aitana didn't even want him there. "It's your plans."

"Please, I doubt she would mind my plus one if it's little ole you," Penelope winked. "We leave by 10!" She wiggled her fingers goodbye as she headed out. Knowing him, he would need the whole night to get into the idea.

Maybe he did.

Spencer knew that Aitana wouldn't be angry, per say, if he dropped by with Penelope but comiing unannounced wasn't his favorite way to do things. In a perfect world, he would've had enough courage, enough creativity, to plan something out for just the two of them. She was a huge Christmas lover and would give anything to be the one who surprised her with the best Christmas-themed date. But those were just wishes. Reality was a whole other thing and he would have to stick with what he had.

And what he had with Aitana was only friendship.

~0~

Aitana was pulling out the branches of her Christmas tree when she heard the expected knocks on her door. "Come in!" she yelled, rather strained as she pulled apart two branches. She was working on the last part of the tree, the very top, and for some reason it was the hardest.

"We're here, we're here!" Penelope bustled into the living room with Spencer, both carrying bags in their hands. "Sorry, bit the snow makes everything and everyone go slower! And I brought a plus one, hope that's okay!" She cast a smirk at Spencer. Even with that confidence she boasted that it would really be alright with Aitana, Spencer still held his breath until Aitana gave the confirmation.

Aitana was standing on a step stool when they met her in the living room. Spencer couldn't think of a better way to start his day when he spotted her. She was entirely focused on a pesky branch. The snowy day outside hadn't interrupted her one bit. Her short curly hair was braided with a green ribbon to adorn it. Her blouse was a bit disheveled from her work but Spencer could still see the adorable little reindeer print it had. He was sure that her pants were only black because she couldn't find a matching set. She always pulled the best things out of her closet. She had good taste for everything.

Aitana beamed when she saw the pair but Penelope thought she was a very smart cookie who knew that said beam was mostly because of her plus one.

"Spencer!" she exclaimed. "Of course it's alright!"

Penelope's smirk on Spencer turned smug in record time. "Thought so."

He flushed. "R-really?"

Aitana was grinning ear to ear. "Yeah! I would have called you but I wasn't sure if you want to come over and decorate a tree...I didn't know if you thought it would be kind of boring."

"No," he said quickly. "Definitely not."

"Perfect! Oh, and I brought the stuff," Penelope gestured to the bags in their hands.

"Oh thanks," Aitana hopped off the steps and came to take them. "I would have gotten them myself but I had to wait for the Christmas tree to be delivered."

"No problem," Penelope said as she handed the bags over. Spencer did the same but it ultimately was too much and they had to bring the bags to the couch instead. Afterwards, both Penelope and Spencer were able to get rid of their heavy jackets. Aitana had her living room as warm and comfy as possible.

"So I set up the branches already," Aitana pulled back a few steps to motion towards the tree. "What do you guys think? I went with an artificial one. It's just easier and saves me a lot of money for years to come." She'd gotten a decent sized frosted tree with pine-cones and berries. "I mean, I know it's still fake but it looks real, doesn't it? The branches and all...?" She stuck the tip of her index nail between her teeth while she waited for the verdict.

"You know back when artificial trees were developed, they were made out of goose feathers dyed green?" Spencer said, figuring it would help her see that her tree looked much better.

On his other side, Penelope was looking at him like he'd lost it. Why would he say that?

Fortunately, Aitana just laughed. "Really?"

He nodded. "And then when they were made in America, the company actually used the same machinery they used to make toilet brushes but they were dyed green too."

Penelope wanted to smack her forehead. He just kept going and going...

Aitana's fingernail came back to her teeth in her nervous antic. "So...is my tree better then?"

Spencer smiled at her. "It's beautiful."

She beamed and clapped her hands together. "Great! So we can start!" She grabbed one of the bags and headed for the tree. She set the bag down on the floor and took a seat in front of it. "I went with the nude colors this year. I thought it would look nice with the whole frost thing I got going on here."

"It'll look wonderful, darling!" Penelope exclaimed then shoved another bag to Spencer, motioning with her head (in a manner that Spencer wondered if it pained her bones) to go to Aitana. She was already busy pulling out all the ornament boxes and mesh ribbons on the floor. When he finally took the bag and went to where Aitana was, Penelope dilly-dallied by the remaining bag. "Oh shoot!"

Aitana looked up from a box she'd been about to open. "What's wrong?"

Penelope was looking at her phone. "Plumbing problem in the apartment. I have to...I have to go, I'm so sorry."

Spencer raised an eyebrow at her. "It was fine when I picked you up..."

Penelope's smile was tight, almost snapping at him not to go poking holes into her fabulous explanation. "I can't plan these sort of things, can I?" Spencer's expression said she definitely could and would. "Aitana, I'm sorry—"

"No, no, it's alright," Aitana stood up from the floor. "Do you want us to take you back—"

"No! I'm good. I would rather see your marvelous tree picture when it's all done! I'm sure Spencer wouldn't mind helping you, right?"

Spencer wouldn't even bother getting upset for this trick. It was on him for not seeing it coming sooner. "Of course not..." But he would definitely have a talk with her for this later.

Penelope was pretty happy when she left, barely making it seem like she had that plumbing problem.

"Just you and me," Aitana said to Spencer when they heard the door close. "You sure you want to spend your day with me?"

"Yeah," Spencer said wholeheartedly. "Unless...unless you don't want to...?"

Aitana cocked her head to the side, her expression incredulous. "Of course I do! Let's do the ribbons, yeah?" She picked up a shiny dark brown mesh ribbon. "I was thinking I'd put it on the tree and sort of twist them around the branches. Makes it really nice afterwards."

"Yeah, of course," Spencer motioned her to start so he could see exactly how she wanted it.

She had to come up the step stool to show him how to start from the top. They carefully wrapped the ribbon around the tree until Aitana felt like it was secured properly. She then surprised Spencer with another mesh ribbon. It was cream colored with white sparkles. She giggled with his reaction. "It's just two of them, I promise."

Shortly afterwards, they opened up the boxes of ornaments. There were glittery dark browns, cream colors, and dazzling whites inside. Some baubles were larger than others, some seemed a little excessive. Spencer shyly pointed that out but Aitana assured him that it would all come together on the tree.

"I like things to show," she said as started putting some of the baubles on the bottom. "I don't mean excessive but, you know, I want it to be seen. What do you usually do for your tree?"

Spencer had started on the other side of the tree but still stood where he was able to see her. He was being as gentle as he could with her glass baubles. They had little things inside like autumn leaves and stems. It was something truly Aitana. "I don't really put one up."

"What!?" Aitana sounded as if she'd heard blasphemy. "What do you mean!?"

Spencer shrugged. "I live alone and...I don't really have a lot of room for one. Especially one this big," he made a gesture at hers.

Aitana chuckled for a moment. "Yeah, okay, your bookshelves do take up a lot of space...but not even one mini tree? You know they make small ones but not like the 3ft ones."

"I don't know..." Spencer didn't know how to put 'I don't know what to be festive about' in a sentence that didn't make him sound gloomy.

"Don't go Grinch on me, Spencer Reid," Aitana came up to his side. "Maybe after this, we can look for a small tree for you."

The idea of them spending yet another moment together left him with a warm face, especially when he realized it would a moment together where it was about him. Aitana smiled at his pensive face—at least that's what she thought it was—and wondered what type of tree he would like. She would do her best to find one that matched his apartment's style. They spent the rest of the time putting the ornaments around the tree and discussing what type of tree he would like.

"And you can pick out the color scheme for your baubles!" Aitana exclaimed. "It's my favorite part of the whole process: choosing what colors you want for the baubles. There's just so many, you know?"

"Mhm," Spencer nodded. "Did you know that the first baubles are thought to have originated from the idea of blown egg shells?"

Aitana's eyes widened. "Don't kid with me..."

"I'm not," Spencer raised his hands in front of him.

She shook her head with a laugh. "Do not stand there and tell me that my baubles came from egg shells!"

"Well, it's thought to be!"

Aitana set her hands on her hips, raising her head to meet his gaze. "Egg shells?"

"Yes."

"Blown egg shells?"

"Aha."

Aitana wanted to stay serious but her lips were quirking into a smile and before she knew it, she lost against another laugh. "Spencer, I just can't believe half the things you say sometimes!"

"I wouldn't lie to you," Spencer said, meaning it entirely.

Aitana went for one of the last baubles, a large one, and came up beside him. "Yeah?" She looked at him while her fingers tried leaving the hook of her bauble hanging on a branch. "So you would tell me if my decorations were bad?" She meant it as a joke but Spencer still nodded with his most serious face.

"But I wouldn't have to because you always have a good eye for decorating. You'd never decorate something badly."

She smiled at his kind words. Doing so and getting lost with his own smile, her fingers slipped over the bauble's hook. "Oh no!" She dove to catch it at the same time that Spencer did. They ended up grabbing it with their hands over each other's. "Nice catch!" Aitana exclaimed when they straightened up on their feet.

"Yeah, uh, I never had those..." Spencer flushed with the realization their hands hadn't moved apart. He was never a handsy person but right now he couldn't find anything better than this. Her hands were like soft feathers cushioning his skin. Aitana was smiling at him, albeit shyly if he'd paid a little more attention. In his defense, he was trying to make sure his hands weren't as clammy as he thought they were.

"Should we, uh, put the bauble on the tree?" Aitana timidly asked him. She knew he wasn't that thrilled with closeness so, as reluctant as she was, she pulled her hands from the bauble.

"Where did you, uh...?" Spencer looked back at the three.

"Right there," she pointed to the branch she'd been working on. She watched him fondly as he set the bauble right where she wanted it and on the first try. "You're pretty good at this," she said afterwards. "Might ask you to do this with me every year." Wouldn't that be nice? It would be very nice. She had luck this year that Penelope had taken him with her this year because she would've never had the courage to ask Spencer herself. She was afraid she'd bore him to death with this nonsense of hers.

"I'd like that," Spencer surprised her with his words. He was very aware of what he'd said for that he found it hard to look at her for a few seconds.

"You wouldn't get bored?" she asked, pretending to work with a bauble that most certainly did not need work on. "Because I know my decorations take a long time. I take it very serious, as you can see. My brothers always did the tree really quickly when we were younger. Thought they were the fastest decorators too."

"The world record for the fastest tree decorating was 36.89 seconds," Spencer said, "Sharon Juantuah in Essex, UK had a 100 lights, 2 lengths of tinsel and 15 baubles when she was done."

"Really?" Aitana raised an eyebrow. "Only 15 baubles?"

Spencer nodded. "Yup."

"Mm, I like having more..."

"And it looks wonderful."

Aitana brought her fingernail to her teeth, cheeks once again threatening to turn pink. "You're too sweet, you know that?"

It was Spencer's turn to blush. She thought he was sweet. He was actually saying the right things to her. It gave him a sense of hope that maybe one day he might actually say the right thing to get a date with her.

When all the baubles were set accordingly and after Aitana did a quick check to make sure that no two colors were right next to each other, she went back to the bags. She soon realized that Penelope had left her own additions in the bag. She should've known with that woman. "Penelope left me a couple things," she pulled out a box of pine sticks. "It may be an artificial tree but it's going to smell like a real one. You want to put those in?"

"Yeah," Spencer came to take the box and returned to the tree.

"Oh my God, Pen," he heard her say afterwards with a soft laugh to follow. He looked back to see Aitana taking out a mistletoe from the bag. She was shaking her head. "What does she think I'm going to be doing these days?"

Spencer preferred not to voice those thoughts. He cleared his throat and offered her an awkward shrug before he put all of his focus on the pine cone sticks.

"If I don't put this up, I won't hear the end of it," Aitana decided it was best to just go with it. She found the first spot to hang it from which turned out to be the living room's threshold. "I'm going to laugh when she has to give Luke a kiss."

At that, Spencer freely laughed. Aitana looked back to see him having to pause with the pine sticks in order to laugh. It was rare to see him like that. Aitana wished it wasn't like that but given their line of work, it was typical.

Before she returned to the bags, she decided to start up a some music for the background. "Do you mind?" she asked when Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy started from her phone.

"Course not." Spencer watched her sway back to the bags on the couch. He was smiling at her but when Aitana happened to look his way and caught him, he was immediately flustered.

She laughed when he dove his gaze to the branches in front of him. "I'm a whole show, huh?" She may have been embarrassed, her cheeks were a pink tinge. Anyone else would've said she was crazy but that would never leave Spencer Reid's mouth. He wasn't like that.

"It's okay," Spencer said quietly while he waited for his face to calm down with the heat.

Eventually, she returned to dig through the bags. There weren't many things left anymore besides the little ornaments that would go around the house and the tree topper. She started pulling out the tree topper when she noticed something different amongst the remaining ornaments. It was a small box with an adorable little red ribbon over it. She left the tree topper to take the box up instead.

"What's this?" she pulled the lid off and found one more ornament tucked inside. It was wooden crafted with 'A. D. T.' carved in the middle. There was a smaller carving of what seemed like a wrapped candy on the bottom right. A red and white plaid ribbon was attached to its top. "Oh, now this is nice!" She turned around to Spencer and showed him the ornament. "Did Penelope get this?"

Spencer was shifting on his feet for some reason. "Um, no, not...not really. I did." Aitana froze for a second. He now had undivided attention. "I was going to...to give it to you at work but then Penelope invited me here so I thought...I thought it would be—be better here."

Aitana looked at the ornament again with a new sentiment. "This is beautiful, Spencer. Is it hand-carved?" That was a stupid question to ask when she could see it plain as day but right now, her vocabulary wasn't at its strongest. Her heart speedy heartbeats were certainly a sign of that.

"Y-yeah," Spencer nodded. "Your initials. Aitana Dulce Serrano."

"And the piece of candy on the bottom..." Aitana chuckled at the carving. "Dulce means..."

"Candy," Spencer finished, though a better translation for him was 'sweet' because that's exactly what she was. "It's like a signature for your tree, cos...cos it's all made by you."

Aitana felt her entire face warm up. She had no idea what to do with herself at that moment. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She did have an idea of what she wanted to do but she didn't want to invade Spencer's personal space. "You are..." She couldn't even that sentence.

Spencer smiled in what he was sure was awkwardly. He didn't have anything better than that. "Do you like it?" His entire happiness may be depending on it.

Aitana almost laughed incredulously. "Spencer, I love it! The only reason I'm not over there hugging you to death is because I'm not sure if you'd want me up in your personal space!"

Spencer straightened up with a clearing of his throat. "I wouldn't...mind..." He was actually proud of himself for being able to say that in one go, even more when Aitana ran up to him to give him that hug. She was so warm and, ironically, smelled sweet. He had no idea how long the hug would last so he would soak up every second he had.

"I have to find something amazing to give you now," Aitana said, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck. "I don't know what it is but rest assured that it will be amazing!"

Spencer laughed. "You don't have to. I just know that you love your decorations so I figured having a personalized one would fit perfectly with your themes."

Aitana felt a rush of butterflies thinking about the fact he thought of her and her decorating nonsense. She was really lucky to have him in her life. She may have snugged to him without even noticing.

Spencer noticed. He noticed straightaway. He swallowed hard and had to put every last bit of his focus on making sure he didn't make this awkward. He didn't really know what to do but he was sure the main thing was not to make it uncomfortable. This was the closest he'd ever been to Aitana and he wanted to do it right. "

"I'm going to put this right up front," Aitana eventually pulled away but her eager smile was enough to ward off any of Spencer's doubts. She was enthralled with his gift. "Can you get the tree topper for me?"

"Yeah," he nodded and went for the bag on the couch. By the time he had the tree topper, Aitana had already placed the ornament right at the center. It was one of the first things anyone would notice. He couldn't help his swell of pride seeing it there. Maybe some part of him hoped that Aitana would think of him every time she saw the ornament.

"Looks perfect!" She stepped back beside him.

"Tree topper?" He held it for her. She gingerly took it into her hands and pulled out part of the ribbon. It was a huge ribbon bow in a dark brown and cream color, just like the rest of her tree.

"I want to put it," she said with a giggle. "At home, I always got to put the star. It was easy to do that when you're the only girl in your family."

"You were sneaky, then," Spencer smirked.

"Yup!" She headed for the step stool with Spencer right behind her. "You tell me if it's crooked, alright?"

Spencer stepped back to instruct her what side she needed to tilt the topper should it need to be. It was bemusing to watch her strain to pull it after he asked her if she wanted him to do it. She wasn't as tall but she was going to get the job done one way or another. To her credit, ten minutes later she did it.

"It looks good?" Aitana called. She was giggling as Spencer held his hands out in a frame motion. "What's the doctor's verdict?"

"Perfect!" He dropped his arms to his sides.

Aitana clapped happily. "Then I think we are done!" Spencer agreed and walked over to her. "With the tree because my house still needs a little Christmas upgrade!"

"I know for a fact that Penelope brought a whole lot of stuff for that," Spencer said.

"Yeah, but we can take a break," Aitana shrugged. She went down the step stool only to trip on the last one.

"Woah!" Spencer's reflexes were shockingly good because he caught her on time. "Did you get a little too excited there?"

"M-maybe..." Aitana was flat-out embarrassed and it showed in her cut-up laugh. Her hands rested on his shoulders, gripping them from the fall. "I just really love Christmas, if you haven't noticed." She raised her head and found they were incredibly close this time.

"I noticed," Spencer smiled softly at her. "And I think it's nice that our work hasn't tainted your holidays."

Aitana's eyebrows knitted together. "Is that why you don't put up a Christmas tree? Because of everything that we see?"

Spencer didn't immediately answer but his expression was doing it for him. There were images that just didn't fade so quickly. "It's not the entire reason but...kind of..."

"Oh, and me trying to force you into buying a tree and decorations doesn't help."

"No!" Spencer was quick to say and at the same time pulled his hands off her body. "You being in the holiday spirit is so nice to see! It makes me so happy knowing that your happiness hasn't been spoiled by work. And I would definitely like to put up a tree in my house, if it's with you. I like spending time with you. You make everything better, you make everything...sweet."

Aitana fiddled with her fingers in front of her. "You really think that?"

Spencer panicked for a moment when he realized that he had said all that. His first reaction—his instinctive reaction—was to make up something to downplay his words but Aitana seemed hopeful. She was hopeful for something and that something had to be about his words. He didn't want to be the reason her hope dwindled.

"Well yeah," he shrugged. "You're fun to be around with. Everyone always has plans for this time of the year and...it makes me wish I could plan things with you."

Aitana felt the air leave her for a second there. Her fingers pulled apart from each other and her right hand seemed to want to point at herself but her nerves were too much to do it. She glanced over her shoulder to her Christmas tree then back to Spencer. "So...you'd want to...keep doing this?"

By this point, Spencer saw no more reason to hide. He already said what he wanted to. "Yeah, and-and maybe go out to see, uh, the Christmas festivals. Get some hot chocolate maybe? I-I know there's a mini-concert happening this weekend. All the classics will be sang..."

Aitana chuckled while Spencer slowly trailed off. "Last Christmas?"

"Yeah, I-I'm sure that'd be one of them..."

Aitana folded her arms over her chest and stayed quiet for a few seconds (which seemed agonizingly long for Spencer). Panicking came easy to him thinking she was deciding how to reject him. "Could you...could you take like 10 steps back?"

"What?" Spencer looked down at the floor as if he'd find something there.

"Scratch that, 12 steps." Aitana motioned him to do it.

Though he was completely lost, he went ahead and took the 12 steps back. "...nine...ten...eleven...twelve." He looked around to figure out what was so special about the spot. When he met Aitana's gaze, she was biting her index fingernail again. What was she nervous about? "I'm not sure what to do now..."

"That's a first." She dropped her hand to her side then rushed up to him.

He caught her in his arms just as she threw hers around his neck and kissed him. Once more, the instinct came back and this time it was telling Spencer to hold Aitana tightly and kiss her back. He pressed her body against him and followed her sweet lips in whatever way they went. He knew it was impossible but he was sure that she tasted like actual sugar. He would've laughed if it didn't threaten to end their moment. He didn't want anything to ruin it. Aitana's hands were at the nape of his neck toying with his hair. Her touch was soft like he knew it would be. They'd touched before but nothing like this which meant everything he felt was new and better.

When they pulled apart, only slightly though, Aitana smiled up at him. "That was better than I thought it'd be," she admitted. She giggled with the clear blush on Spencer's face. She pointed a finger up and when Spencer followed it he found the mistletoe that she'd hung earlier.

"Ooh..." That's why he'd taken the steps backwards. "Clever girl."

Aitana shrugged proudly. "First kiss under a mistletoe...how could I let the opportunity pass us by?"

"About what I said..." Spencer stopped when she placed a finger over his lips.

"I'd love to go wherever you want. Anywhere. A walk, a festival, putting up a tree at your place..." She pulled her finger from his lips and fixed his cardigan. "Just tell me when."

"Tomorrow?" Spencer tried his luck. "Uh, there's a live reading for Christmas books. You said you like—"

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" Aitana practically bounced on her feet. She was an utter child for these things and yet he still wanted to give her more events like those? She was really lucky. "Oh Spencer, you have no idea what you started."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," he said, smiling softly at her. "I promise I won't be a Grinch."

Aitana laughed. "You could never be," she cupped his face. "I'm just over-the-top for the holidays."

"I love it. I really do. I want to make those plans that everyone always makes. But, just with you."

"Well, we can take a break here and make some hot chocolate in the kitchen...I have marshmallows. And the sugar."

"Dulce," he enunciated her middle name in a way that left her puddy in his arms.

She leaned on him with the biggest grin on her face. "Hot chocolate?"

"Absolutely," he nodded.

"And then we can start making those plans," she promised him.

Spencer already had at least a dozen plans lined up in his head. His arms wrapped around her again. He could finally do that and more. "I love the sound of that." They met for another kiss that delayed their hot chocolate for at least another five minutes.

#ocappreciation #criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #fd: criminal minds #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fics #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fics #cm fics #cm imagines #oc: aitana serrano

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mando-abs · 3 years

Text

Dream Time with Abs

On this episode: First Dream with a young modern rebel Din Djarin

Context: I recently added the Session series by @mandocrasis on my TBR list and my brain said “Alright, bet.” and ran with the idea of it. So, I guess this dream is inspired by the series???? I don’t know. I haven’t read it yet. But, this dream was too good not to share.

Also 18+ warning - some sexual themes are mentioned in this dream but never actually put into motion.

The Story:

No idea why my dreams have been involving schools with varying age ranges lately but HERE WE GO.

It all started out with me in a gym class. I was talking to a group of chatty girls, and they started gossiping about the rebel Din Djarin. One girl, we’ll call her Stacy, mentioned how she wanted to quote “get in his pants.” I rolled my eyes at Stacy, and she got really defensive over it. To appease the Stacy, the girls decided that they would pass a note onto Din about which girl, me or Stacy, he would rather hook up with. (It’s so teenage lunchroom-esque. I love it)

I wasn’t too worried about it since I’m practically a nobody, but it still bothered me that they would send such a crude letter to him. But also, my brain really wanted to see this plot through, so I allowed it. The girls came back by the end of the day with huge grins on their faces. As it turns out, Din was more interested in me than Stacy. In fact, he had his eye set out for me anyways.

Now, I start panicking internally. Like, what? All I’ve heard are whispers about the guy and how popular he was (or unpopular, it’s never really discussed why he was the talk of the school). Why would he agree to hook up with a nerd like me? (Spoiler alert: that isn’t explained in this dream either, sorry)

Regardless, the girls were really excited for me and decided to help a girl out. They scouted the perfect classroom for me to stakeout in. It was currently being held by a class full of children (what kind of a school is this???), but, eventually, it would be empty, giving me the best opportunity to get my freak on. They even tried giving me pointers (in shushed voices of course) on how to, for lack of better terms, stick it in there in a classroom setting. Then, they just leave me there.

So there I was, sitting in this classroom full of children, waiting for Din to come do whatever with me. I was so incredibly nervous, constantly shifting in my seat. What was I even doing? But in my mind, to keep the dream going, I was like…

After waiting for a few minutes, Mr. Din Djarin finally walked into the classroom.

And when I tell you that this boy was so fine, that this boy was so scrum-dilly-icous… Let me paint you a picture of him. Din was much younger than he is typically. He was not like the man he is rn, he was a boy (still my age of course, but not aged like the fine wine he is in Mandalorian).

The best way to describe him is Pedro Pascal as he looked in Hermanas, but with a white t-shirt and leather jacket over it.

Wooooooo. Okay. Well, now I was trying to play it off cool to match his sick rebel vibes while simultaneously going into meltdown mode on the inside. He pulled up a seat next to me, placed his bag on the floor, and sat down.

“Hey,” he said all nonchalantly.

“Hey,” I said not so collected back at him.

“Looks like we’re going to be here a while.”

“Yeah… Got any homework you need to do?” 🤦🏻Nice one, nerd. God.

Din laughed, but not condescendingly so. It’s almost like he was actually relieved I was more concerned about his grades than having sex with him.

“Yeah, actually. I’ve got a quiz coming up.”

“Well, good then.”

So he got out his binder and started studying for some unknown quiz.

Now…this was the part I remembered the most because it felt so real. While we were sitting there as he was studying (and I nosily looking over his shoulder to see what he was studying), I got brave enough and held his hand. I physically felt his hand. I will not be able to forget his touch for a while. And all of you writers out there like to write Din and Pedro characters alike with large calloused hands (and respectfully so, most of his characters are hard workers). His hand was soft. It easily enveloped mine still, but they were gentle. I think he smiled out of the corner of his mouth, but I didn’t look at him as hard out of nervousness.

So we sat and sat, and sat some more with our hands locked like this. All the kids left, but the teacher still hung around. By that point, I was frustrated and really wanted the teacher to get lost. But, knowing Ms. Goody Two-Shoes me, I wouldn’t do that. I was more concerned about my parents not knowing where the hell I was.

I got to thinking. I whispered to Din. “You know, we don’t have to do this here. Maybe we can go somewhere away from here, away from student hangouts?”

“Well, I’ve got a truck. You wanna head out?” (Btw, I imagined rebel Din’s truck as Bella Swan’s old red Chevy truck…if that’s any interest to you…)

“Sure. Lemme just…” I got out my phone and texted one of my parents.

Hey! Going to get a bite with a buddy. Be home soon.

We headed out, hands still interlocked, with Din leading the way.

Now, this is the part we’re things get interesting. On our way out, I stopped dead in my tracks in front of one classroom door and made Din flip around due to the suddenness of it.

He looked confused at me. “What?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I heard there was a baby in art room class.”

Din raised his hands up like he was saying, “And?”

“Well, this is the art room.” I shuffled my feet. “And, I kinda want to see it.” I flashed a smile at him. But I didn’t even wait for his response, I just went in the classroom.

Din stood at the doorway confused for a moment. He straightened his jacket and acted like this was all a part of his plan. “I know my way around this place.” He didn’t.

When we both were in the room, we looked around to find the baby with a small cluster of students ogling at and playing with. And, to no surprise, it was Grogu. Grogu did not change his appearance in the dream AT ALL. We just all accepted the green skinned, bug eyed, pointy eared baby.

After Din and I spent a few moments cooing and making wiggly fingers at the baby, we went to go talk to the teacher about how cute the kid is and how proud he must be.

But the teacher was like, “Oh no. That’s not my baby. I’m just babysitting for a few days. That baby is on it’s way to back to be reunited with his cult.”

Din and I looked at the man like he was crazy. We then looked at each other a bit uneasy over it. This didn’t sit well with the two of us.

So instead of heading out to his truck, we went to go research more about this mysterious cult (I’m guessing at the library??? idk) As it turns out, this cult is notorious for stealing family’s’ babies, and adopts them into their own weird cult stuff.

Din and I looked up from the book we were reading in and stared at each other. We didn’t speak a single word to one another, but I knew we had one goal in common -

We were going to steal back a baby that night.

__________________________________________

And that’s it! That’s the dream! I hoped you enjoyed it. Uh, I wouldn’t expect an update dream as my dreams are very unpredictable and highly unstable. Hopefully I’ll get to see rebel Din again, and we go steal babies to bring back to their families. Maybe hold hands again, maybe have sex? Who knows! Cause I don’t 😀

#din djarin #the mandalorian #mandalorian #mando #mandalorian au #the mandalorian au #dream #inspired dream #pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #this took way too long to write but I wanted it on record #this dream was way too elaborate not to write down

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nights-legacy · 4 years

Text

Childhood -Raph

Requested by @nesting-dreams

Raph 2012

+ Raph and Y/N have only been dating for about a month but have been friends for longer. After a successful patrol one night, Y/N comes to the lair to find Raph irritated. He rants and old feelings resurface in Y/N’s head. Raph notices and grows concerns. She tells about her past and childhood to not only him but a few eavesdroppers too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

I was out for a run when I heard yelling and the sounds of fighting. I came to a stop trying to pinpoint where the noises were coming from. They were coming from an ally across the street. I jogged across the street, avoiding passing cars. The ally went straight and right into a dead end. I peeked around the corner and saw the turtles fighting some Purple dragon thugs.

“Well, well, well.” I leant against the wall and watched as they fought. Once beaten and they realized they were done for, the thugs ran for the exit of the ally.

“Bye you suckers!” I heard Raph yell. They ran by me without a second glance. I watched as they exited the main ally, scurrying in different directions. I heard the guys cheering.

“They’re gone.” I called walking down towards them. “Tails between their legs all the way.”

“Babe! Did you see that? We kicked some major shell.” Raph strutted over and set his arm on my shoulder. I set mine on his shell and nodded.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Leo came walked up while placing his swords in their sheaths.

“I was out for a run when I heard commotion. Thought I would check it out.”

“Always walking to the danger. Why ya’ gotta do that babe.” Raph looked at me. I shrugged.

“I can handle myself. Remember? I held my own against you.” I smirked and poked his plastron.

“That’s not saying much though.” Leo joked. I chuckled and I saw Raph rolled his eyes. Mikey burst out laughing and I saw Donnie with an amused smiled.

“Oh whatever. Let’s get home, I worked up an appetite.” The others shouted in agreement. “You coming, Y/N?”

“I’m gonna finish my run but I’ll come by after.” I said. I pecked him on the lips before backing up. They nodded and climbed up the buildings. “See you guys later!”

“See ya babe!” I heard Raph yell over the rooftops. I shook my head chuckling and jogged back to the street to finish my run. After another 20 minutes, I went back to my apartment and took a shower. Grabbing a snack, I made my way down to the lair.

“lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue. When I am king dilly dilly, you shall be queen.” I sang quietly as I walked up to the turn-styles. I jumped over them and walked into an unusually quiet lair. “Guys?” I called out. “Anybody home?”

“Yeah.” Leo stepped out of the kitchen with his arms crossed. I saw a stern look on his face and sighed.

“Let me guess��you and Raph got into a fight.” I looked at him as he nodded. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “What was it this time?”

“Oh the normal. Recklessness, bull headed, rude…”

“Over reacting. Over authoritative. Both of you being jerks?” I gave him a hard stare. He looked at me in shock before his face dropped. He dropped his arms and his shoulders drooped.

“He’s in his room.” He said softly. I could hear relent in his voice and smiled. I walked by patting his shoulder as I passed. I jogged to Raph’s room. I knocked and heard a few crashes before the door whipped open. Raph stood there seething.

“Babe.” He looked surprised and calmed down a bit. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish before standing aside. I walked in and sat down on the bed. He closed the door softly or at least tried too. “I guess you ran into Leo.”

“Yep. And I talked to him, saying a few, calm things of my own.” I kicked off my shoes and crossed my legs. Raph was standing in the middle of the room, trying to hold himself together. “Go ahead. Vent.”

“I just can’t with him. He always think he’s the boss of me in every situation. Even in stuff that has nothing to do with our ninja and fighting lives. Even my personal life!” He started to pace the floor. “I mean growing up with the prodigy Leo was hard enough but I also had the genius Donnie and charismatic Mikey. What does that leave me?”

“The daring Hunk?” I tried to lighten his mood.

“Yeah, right. Only to you babe. I mean my childhood was good and all. Good family, good home, and such. But my god they can be the most overbearing, idiotic, and nerdy bunch of brothers.” Childhood. That word struck a nerve. I looked down at my hands. “I sometimes wish I was an only child. It would make somethings so much easier.”

“I know how you feel.” I whispered. I saw his shadow freeze. The movement let me know he was turning toward me.

“What?” He said. I looked up at him. He blanched and surged forward. He placed a hand on my face and wiped his thumb across my cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“I know how you feel.” I said louder. I gave him a small smile. “I wish I was an only child to sometimes but my childhood wasn’t as good.”

“You have siblings? What do you mean not good?” He asked. I gulped and took a big breath.

“I grew up in a bad neighborhood. Gangs, drunks, pimps and hookers on every corner, you name it, they were there. My brother, he’s quite a few years older than me. Like he was in his teens when I was born.” I thought back. “He was a part of one of the worst gangs at the time. He and his friends. So by the time I got older he was into his adult life and basically was in charge. So the gang was around a lot.”

“What about your parents?” Raph sat next to me. He placed a hand over mine.

“My mom left after I was born. Something about not being able to raise another delinquent. My dad, well he was sick and couldn’t do much to stop my brother. He died after I turned 5.” I bit my lip. “I grew up on the streets.”

“How did you get where you are?” Raph asked. “You were living next door to April when we met you?”

“My brother got arrested and Child services came and picked me up when I was 10. The Wilsons are my foster family.” I shrugged. “They took me in and treated me like one of their own even if they aren’t home a lot. I wish I had the overbearing, idiotic, and nerdy bunch of brothers instead of the one I had. My life may have been different.”

“But you do.” I looked up at Raph confused. He smiled and wrapped an arm around me. “Leo, Donnie, and Mikey think of you as a sister. You may not have had them then but you have them now.” He reached up and wiped the tears away. I smiled. “And I’m glad I have them too.”

“I glad you understand. Even if it’s different situations.” I wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me back.

“I never knew that about you.” He whispered.

“Not even April knows. She just knows I had a difficult past.” I said before pulling away.

“I’m glad you told me.” He nuzzled my hair. He moved me around and set sideways in his lap before lazily placing his arms on my waist. “So that’s how my girl knows how to beat down.”

“Yep. One thing my brother did right. Taught me how to protect myself. I kept up with it even after moving away.” I said while getting comfortable and laying my head on his shoulder. I could feel my body relax. Raph set his head on top of mine and sighed.

“I’m bushed. Care for a nap?”

“Sure. I’m too comfortable to move anyway.” He chuckled but just held me tighter. I closed my eyes and relaxed into him.

Leo’s POV

The three of us stood at Raph’s door listening. I knew eavesdropping was wrong but we wanted to make sure they were alright. We had heard Raph start venting and wanted to make sure he didn’t take it out on Y/N, which we knew he would never do.

“Wow.” Donnie whispered.

“She’s one tough cookie.” Mikey said. We looked down at him on the floor. I nodded and quietly opened the door. Inside, Raph and Y/N sat sleeping.

“That would be an understatement my son.” We jumped and saw Master Splinter standing behind us. He smiled and looked beyond us. “They are a wondrous couple, aren’t they?”

“Yes they are sensei. She balances him out.” I said.

“Excuse me, my sons.” Master Splinter walked in and grabbed a blanket, draping it over the two. He quietly walked back and in the doorway. “Let us not disturb them and let them sleep. As for you three, to the dojo. You mustn’t eavesdrop on your brother and his girlfriend my sons.” We all groaned.

“We’re sorry Sensei.” I said before ushering Donnie and Mikey towards the dojo.

Y/N’s POV

I peeked as Master Splinter walked to the door. I quietly giggled as they groaned and left for the dojo. I lifted my head and looked at Sensei. He glanced over his shoulder at me. He smiled.

“Rest my dear.” He said. He grabbed the door knob. “Thank you for listening to Raph. He needed someone like you in his life. I’m glad you two can found and confine in each other.”

“You’re welcome Sensei. I’m glad I found him.” He nodded and went to leave but paused.

“How long did it take you to realize my sons were outside the door?”

“As soon as Mikey laid on the floor.” He chuckled.

“Goodnight my dear.”

“Goodnight Sensei.” I said as he turned off the light and closed the door. I laid my head back down, letting myself relax into sleep.

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

Text

Anonymous asked: I love your blog it’s definitely one of the most smartest and cultured ones around. Since you are a super chilled out military vet (flying combat helicopters, how cool is that?!) and also a very thoughtful and devout Christian (I think you talked about being an Anglican) I know this is a cheeky question but I’ll ask it anyway. Would you rather live in a military dictatorship or a theocratic dictatorship?

Now this is an interesting question you play at 2am and the wine is dangerously low.

I have to correct you on a couple of things. Yes, it was ‘cool’ to fly combat helicopters especially in a battlefield setting but it was just a job, like any other. And it’s never about the pilot it’s about the rest of the team behind you, especially your ground crew who make sure you go up and come back in one piece. As for being super chilled you clearly have never seen how sweaty one gets flying in high stress situations. Oh and the stink! A skunk wouldn’t last 5 minutes in my cockpit.

As for my Christian beliefs, I’ll settle for being a believing one. My faith, such as it is, is about living - and failing - by grace day by day than being fervently devout. Faith is a struggle to not rely upon one’s own strength but on divine mercy and grace.

Anyway....

Would I rather live in a military dictatorship or a theocratic dictatorship?

History has shown there's not a lot of difference between the two...

No, wait. On second thoughts maybe I would rather live in a military dictatorship as the lesser evil.

As an ex-officer in her HM armed forces, I know things will be run pretty efficiently with no dilly-dallying. So there’s that.

I suppose even if one does say it’s preferable to live under military rule rather than a theocratic one there is still the question of what kind of military rule? Every nation that has been under military rule came to power and sustained their hold under different dynamics. And of course it also depends on how mature civil society and the rule of law as well as the democratic culture really was in the first place. A lot is tied up with the brutal nature of the personality of the regime leader too. There are simply too many variables.

So one is forced to generalise. So l can’t get too serious in answering this question.

Rather than focus on the negative side let’s look on the bright side.

Just off the top of my head I can think of these reasons why I would choose to ‘live’ under military rule than a theocratic one. There are in no real order:

Beds will be made properly subject to inspection.

Families will be run like military units with the man at the head of the table.

Family meals will be taken at set times.

Public civility will make a return (e.g. no public spitting, drunken, or loutish behaviour).

Freedom of speech will more likely be censored than abolished (better than nothing I suppose)

Elections would be rigged rather than banned (but who really votes anyway these days?) 

They will most likely make the trains run on time (unless you’re British or Italian).

Military leaders often enjoy genuine popularity - albeit after eliminating plausible rivals - that is based on “performance legitimacy,” a perceived competence at securing prosperity and defending the nation against external or internal threats. The new autocrats of today are more surgical: they aim only to convince citizens of their competence to govern.

Maintaining power, for military dictators and their court, is less a matter of terrorising and persecuting victims than of manipulating beliefs about the world. But of course they can do both if backed into a corner to survive.

State propaganda aims not to re-engineer human souls but to boost the military regime leader’s ratings.

The military tend to stay out of personal lives. They have a political police but not necessarily a moral police.

Economic growth is more likely to be stable than under a theocratic state.

Military dictatorships are more likely to build vast bureaucracies to run the state - more jobs for everyone

The military put on great events. Their parades are more colourful and spectacular.

Having a sense of humour is more likely to get you imprisoned than executed for telling an anti-regime joke. It’s no joke to say that people develop a more refinery subversive sense of humour when oppressed. Take for example a famous comedian in Myanmar, Zarganar, for whom comedy is a shield and a weapon. During the time of the military dictatorship (1962-2010) he would make jokes like, “The American says, 'We have a one-legged guy who climbed Mount Everest.' The Brit says, 'We recently had a guy with no arms who swam the Atlantic Ocean. But the Burmese guy says, 'That's nothing! We had a leader who ruled for 18 years without a brain!" It was for jokes like this that Zarganar received a prison sentence in 2008 - for up to 59 years.

Military dictatorships don’t last long. They are more unstable. They tend to fall from the weight of their own contradictions.

One of the problems of living in a theocracy is how absolutist it would be in looking at life in terms of clear cut black and white according to those who rule over you. I strongly suspect in a theocratic state the morality secret police will be all over you looking for any social or moral infraction. In a Christian Theocracy, you'll never be Christian enough - the same would be for states that were Islamic, Judaic or Hindu etc. There's always going to be some pious asshole there with another version of Christianity that is more Christian than you and you're going to lose the freedom to make your own choices.

Under theocracies, unlike other authoritarian regimes, the rulers are the moral authorities that legitimises and fuels their political legitimacy to govern. It assumes its own moral correctness married to its political destiny to rule over others. As C.S Lewis memorably puts it, “Theocracy is the worst of all governments. If we must have a tyrant, a robber baron is far better than an inquisitor. The baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity at some point be sated; and since he dimly knows he is doing wrong he may possibly repent. But the inquisitor who mistakes his own cruelty and lust of power and fear for the voice of Heaven will torment us infinitely because he torments us with the approval of his own conscience and his better impulses appear to him as temptations.”

Finally, I’ll go with the military dictatorship with the hope that there might be some way of bringing the system down with a bit of logic and rationality. Hell knows that wouldn't be possible in a theocratic system!

I agree with Margaret Atwood when she said, “If you disagree with your government, that's political. If you disagree with your government that is approaching theocracy, then you're evil.” There’s more wriggle room with fighting against a military dictatorship because it’s usually against an asshole tyrant - or a ruling oligarchy of a military junta - and not a pernicious idea soaked in theological bullshit or an entire ideology divinely santificated by God himself.

A more interesting question is not to ask is why many people are so readily drawn to be ruled under a military rule or a theocratic one and especially a benevolent dictatorship (like Lee Kwan Yew in Singapore or Paul Kagame in Rwanda) but why increasingly more people in the Western world look to authoritarian figures to rule and shape their lives?

Why do Silicon Valley titans like Peter Thiel and others like him think fondly of ditching democracy in the name of some utopian hyper-capitalist vision of ‘freedom’?

I hear murmurs of the same talk when I interact with corporate colleagues and high net worth individuals I hear it around dinner tables about how democracy is bad for business and profit. Often it’s accompanied by praise for China's ability to "get things done." I just roll my eyes and smile politely.

I think - outside of the legitimate concern of the decay of civil discourse, the corruption of politicians, and corrosiveness of crony capitalism - it’s because democratic politics is hard. Damn hard.

Moreover democratic politics does not have a "right" answer. There never is.

In our Western societies it is the playing field (or market place?) where our values compete. Surely, you say, there is a right way to get the job done: to fill in the potholes, build the roads, keep our streets safe, get our kids to learn reading and math. Ah, but look how quickly those issues get contentious.

Whose potholes should get filled first? Do we try to keep our streets safe through community policing or long prison sentences? Should teachers be given merit pay, are small classrooms better, or should we lengthen the school day? These issues engender deep political fights, all - even in the few debates where research provides clear, technocratic answers. That is because the area of politics is an area for values disputes, not technical solutions.

One person's "right" is not another's because people prioritise different values: equity versus excellence, efficiency versus voice and participation, security versus social justice, short-term versus long-term gains.

Democratic politics allows many ideas of "right" to flourish. It is less efficient than dictatorship. It also makes fewer tremendous mistakes.

The longing for a leader who knows what is in her people's best interests, who rules with care and guides the nation on a wise path, was Plato's idea of a philosopher-king. It's a tempting picture, but it's asking the wrong question.

In political history, philosophers moved from a preference for such benevolent dictators to the ugly realities of democracy when they switched the question from "who could best rule?" to "what system prevents the worst rule?"

But clearly democracy is buckling under pressure in our torrid times. Populism - the logical end consequence of a purer democracy - is chipping away at the edifice of democratic norms and conventions. Increasingly inward looking nativism and nationalism fuel passions beyond the control of reason.

Perhaps it is time we went back to the tried and tested example of a monarchy, a constitutional one that is.

A revitalised monarchy in Britain needs a Head of State that can provide a personal identity to an impersonal State, and a collective sense of itself. A Head of State who does not owe his or her position to either patronage or a vote can more properly represent all the people. Consider that a President who has been elected, often by a minority of a minority of the electorate, cannot adequately speak for the people who did not vote for him or her. It is even worse if the President has been appointed, because then he owes his position to a small clique.So, the accident of birth is the best means of appointing a Head of State. Someone who has no party political axe to grind, or special favours to repay to a vested interest. Someone whose allegiance is to the people. Not just allegiance to the people who voted for him or his political party, but allegiance to all the people of the country equally. Far from being "incompatible" with democracy, a Monarchy can thereby enhance the government of the land.

The Monarch is a national icon. An icon which cannot be replaced adequately by any other politician or personality. This is because the British Monarchy embodies British history and identity in all its aspects, both good and bad.

When you see the Queen you not only see history since 1952, when she took the throne, but you see a person who provides a living sense of historical continuity with the past. Someone who embodies in her person a history which extends back through time, back through the Victorian era, back into the Stuart era and beyond. You see the national history of all parts of our islands, together, going right back in time.

As Edmund Burke, Roger Scruton and Michael Oakeshott would say, the monarchy is a living continuity between the past, the present and the future.

With its traditions, its history, its ceremonial, and with its standing and respect throughout the world, the British Monarchy represents a unique national treasure, without which the United Kingdom would be sorely impoverished.

If you value national distinctiveness, you should be a Monarchist.

If you are anti-globalist you should be a Monarchist because Monarchies represent the different national traditions and distinctions among the nations.

The desire to secure, strengthen and promote your own distinct national icons, whether your Monarch, or your own unique national identity, should be your concern, whether you live here in St Andrews, or whether you live in St Petersburg, or whether you live in St Paulo.

As the global financial system rushes us all towards a world intended to eradicate all local and national distinctions, the Monarchy stands out as different, distinct and valuable. Constitutionally, practically, spiritually and symbolically the Monarchy is a national treasure, the continued erosion of which would change the character of Britain, and not in a good way!

I’m speaking as a High Tory now, sorry. And so of course I only see it working for the United Kingdom....and the Commonwealth (slip that discreetly in there for you India, Australia, Canada, and Africa).

Still, if you want egalitarianism then look at Norway and the Netherlands - both highly "egalitarian" societies, and both monarchies.

Everyone else will just have to jolly well do without or ask us politely to come back (I’m looking at you my dear American colonial cousins, all will be forgiven).

The best of all worlds? Time will tell.

At your service, Ma’am....

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #military dictatorship #government #rule #democracy #culture #society #theocracy #army #christianity #religion #nd high net worth individuals

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mimikametamorphosis · 4 years

Text

Friend

My friend, he thought. He knew she was more than that. She was a hero worthy of legends and sonnets; the Goddess incarnate herself. She was his professor, his Teach. She was the stars the in the sky looking at him and guiding him every step of the way. She was the dawn that he had been waiting for all his life, the light that would lead him to where he wanted to be. She was Byleth.

He thought that time would ease what he felt but it did not. In fact, it was the same as before -- or so he'd like to tell himself. This wasn't the first time he's felt this: a buzzing in his brain that refused to go away; a twitch at the corner of his mouth; and an involuntary curving of his hand into a fist. Their paths had crossed frequently as of late and he could not help but feel a twinge of annoyance well up in his chest. He hoped it never showed on his face because he wanted to keep as many useful people as his allies considering their circumstances. Most importantly, any sign of weakness was an unwelcome dent in his armor.

He found it odd, he admitted to himself. They had gotten along amicably over the last five years, working together towards their shared goal but once they had achieved it, something in their dynamic had changed. He had pondered on what had changed between them but seeing her pale green eyes look at him everyday made him realize that it was in front of him the whole time. Loath to admit that it was something so trivial, Claude shook his head.

It was morning yet he felt as though he'd already gone through the day with all the mental gymnastics he's done. He pushed off his blanket and dressed himself. There was a war council that day and he was scheduled to train with the professot after. He chuckled at the thought of training with their professor after five years. He thought it was silly the first time Byleth had suggested it. They had not seen each other for five years and she insisted that they continue with their training as though only a day had passed since they last saw her.

Training with Teach, he mused as he laced his undershirt. Glad that some things don't have to change.

He took out a long-sleeved doublet from his closet. It was made of gold silk, with maroon trimmings and lapels. It was his one of the simpler ones his late grandfather owned and it was easier to discard this once he began training. He wore it over his undershirt and buttoned it. He slipped on his trousers and went on his way.

“Everyone here?”

Claude heard Byleth from outside the war room. He could've entered as soon as he arrived but he wanted to have a bit of fun to shake off all the annoyance felt this morning. He stood with his back against the door and listened.

He knew that Byleth inspected each one of them and that she noticed that her tactician had not yet arrived.

"Where are Claude and Yuri?"

The corners of his lips twitched.

“I'm sure they're on their way, Professor," Hilda yawned. “Maybe they just couldn't shake off the sleepies right away.”

“Surely Claude understands that he should not keep the rest of us waiting,” Lorenz huffed. “It is absolutely unbecoming of a noble, much less the head of the Alliance!"

And there was his source of fun.

“It's too early for that, Lorenz,” Leonie chided. “Lighten up will you? Besides, we all came here early. The war council isn't meant to start until after five minutes.”

“If he can keep dilly-dallying, then maybe he can also relieve himself of his headship and give it to someone who can— ”

Maybe it was time to make his entrance.

"Easy, Lorenz," Claude said as he entered the room, his hands up in mock surrender. "Relax, I'm here. No need to get your breeches in a knot because you missed me so much."

“To mock instead of apologizing for his indescretion; how unbecoming,” Lorenz spat as he glared at Claude.

Claude simply replied with a lopsided smile and patted Byleth's shoulder as he sat down on her right.

"Well, my frie—"

"Looks like I'm the last to arrive, friend."

And so it starts: the buzzing in his head had begun.

Yuri entered the room and sat on Byleth's left, placing himself directly in front of Claude.

“Alright, everyone, let's begin.”

Byleth turned to Yuri.

"Do you have any information for us, Yuri? I heard that your channels have come by some useful information."

"Naturally," Yuri said as he bowed his head.

"I also have useful information regarding our next battle," Claude began. He felt Hilda bristle at his side. It made him adjust his tone to a more amicable one.

"It seems Lord Gwendal of House Rowe will be riding to meet us at Ailell. He'll be coming with an army to stop us from meeting with House Daphnel. We're still checking our ranks to see who leaked the information. We have a number of former Kingdom soldiers that have joined our ranks once the heads of Houses Gautier, Galatea, and Fraldarius joined our army. No offense to the three of you."

He nodded in the direction of Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix.

"None taken," Sylvain replied nonchalantly. "This is war, afterall. Nothing, not even loyalty, is certain."

"Thanks for that. Moving on, so far, we've narrowed it down to three possible candidates and two are from the Kingdom. We'll be probing them once we—"

"There is no need," Yuri said coolly. "My men have sniffed out the rat."

"You have?"

Byleth looked at him and he smiled at her.

Claude felt a small prick at his temple.

"Excellent work, Yuri," Claude managed to say through a stiff smile. He rested his elbows on the table and laced his hands in front of him. "You could have said so sooner."

"You were talking and you had valuable information I could work on," Yuri said simply.

"Good, I'll leave the matter of the rat to both of you since you're both our spymasters anyway," Byleth said with finality. "We must move on to our formations. Please open the map at the center of the table."

Byletyh took a small, open chest of wooden figures amd started placing them on the map. Claude watched as each labelled piece found itself atop the rocky fields of Ailell. He would question some of her decisions once she had laid them all out which was how she had always preferred it.

"Hey," Yuri said, "I think you might want to put your battalion a little far off than there, friend."

"Yuri," Byleth said, looking at him pointedly, "please let me finish."

This earned a smug smile from Claude which he hid behind his laced fingers. He could feel someone looking at him and true enough, he saw Hilda looking at him with a bewildered expression. He leaned in to whisper into her ear.

"I know strategy's not your strongesr suit," Claude began, "what's on your mind?"

"This looks simple enough, Claude," Hilda retorted. "I'm just wondering what's up with you and him." She shifted her eyes to Yuri's direction. He was now helping Byleth lay out the rest of the figures as she instructed him.

"Nothing's up," Claude said simply.

"Sure, and I want to go on the frontlines," Hilda said as she rolled her eyes. "You're acting funny."

"Well, I don't see you laughing," he countered with a lopsided smile.

Hilda huffed and leaned back into her seat, clearly turned off by his dismissal of the topic. He decided to scan the figures and their respective positions on the map. While he knew his professor was good at tactics, he found some questionable decisions sprawled across the field. He will point it out later once they had started but something else else caught his eye.

He saw Byleth reach out for the small chest at the same time Yuri did. Their hands touched, Yuri's hand over Byleth's. Claude found that their hands stayed that way a little too long for his liking. Yuri kept his hand over Byleth's until she moved hers away.

“Oh. I'm sorry, Yuri,” Byleth said with a hint of surprise in her voice.

"There you go being cute again," Yuri said with a cheeky grin as he returned the chest to its original place.

"Shall we start?" Yuri sat down and rested his cheek on one of his hands, looking slyly at Byleth.

Claude couldn't help but be disinterested for most of the council but he didn't forget to question her formations. Still, his mind couldn't help but wander throughout the rest of the war council after that distraction.

He listened intently to each of them — even Yuri — as they gave their suggestions but his mind was split between formulating his schemes for the upcoming battle and understanding the annoyance brewing slowly in his chest.

"Claude," Byleth began. He was shook out of his thoughts and, in that split second, he managed to recall the general gist of what they were talking about. "Do you agree with what we've planned? You are our master tactician afterall. Do you need more time to think this through?"

He looked at the clock behind Yuri's head. It was a little past one o'clock. He didn't have enough energy to do a sweeping review of their batteplan as of the moment and decided to distract himself.

"I think," he began, "its time for some lunch. I'll get back to you on that, my friend. For now, I'm starving."

"You're distracted," Byleth said as she disarmed Claude for the third time in their training session. His sword flew to the floor with a loud clang.

"Again," she said, going into position. She pointed her rapier at him while her other hand was tucked behind her. "Pick up your sword, Claude."

Claude ran his hand threw his hair, shaking out small beads of sweat. He had already shed his doublet and tossed it near the weapons rack. He picked up his sword, piqued at himself for not performing well.

He swung his blade side to side, trying to shake off his ill feelings. He bended his knees and pointed his broadsword towards Byleth, looking her straight in the eye. Yes, those pale green eyes. They were a darker color before but it was what it was now.

Byleth charged at him swiftly, her nimble steps barely making any sound as she rushed towards him. He parried her strike with his sword while she let her blade slide along the length of his, creating sparks in its wake.

Strong as always, he thought to himself, a small smirk forming in his lips.

Her eyes stayed focused on his. He could see fire, determination. She never liked losing no matter what cool, blank facade she wore. It was there in her eyes, like glowing embers being stoked in a fire. He wished to reflect the same towards her. He hated losing which was why he always had contingencies. So long as they never have his head, he has not lost. He doesn't want to lose, he admits, not here, or in any other area that mattered to him and that included her.

He placed his forearm against the flat of his blade and pushed hard against her. She backed away a few paces but she charged at him again, ready to swing her sword. He ducked and aimed to slash her abdomen. She jumped to the side and turned on her heels, slashing a part of his arm in the process.

Claude winced in pain as his torn sleeve began to soak in some of his blood. The cut was shallow and it stung when his sweat dripped on it. He holds up his hand to signal a short reprieve as he tears the rest of his sleeve. Byleth however continued to charge towards him. She swung her blade at his abdomen and he narrowly evaded it.

“Teach,” he gasped, “go easy now. This isn't the battlefield yet.”

“It isn't,” Byleth said matter-of-factly. “If it were you'd be dead. You're not a child, Claude. Brave through your wound and fight.”

He smiled to himself and charged at her. She stepped to the side but he sent a sweeping kick into her direction. She barely dodged it and quickly leapt away from Claude to steady herself.

“Better,” she said, a small smile gracing her face. “Fight with your body. Your sword is just an extension.”

Fight like a mercenary, you mean, Claude thought fondly.

It was one of the first things she taught them when she became their professor. It was a memorable day when she went through six Knights of Seiros, all of them fighting nobly, relying only on their weapons. All of them beaten down with dents in their armor. She served to prove a point that fighting with what you have was not any less noble than relying on your weapon. After all, chivalry and decorum were forgotten philosophies on the battlefield.

He was caught off guard for a moment and had the wind knocked out of him with a strong hit to his chest. He didn't notice Byleth while he was reminiscing. His breathless state was just a reminder of how he always was when she'd come crashing through his defenses.

Breathless, he thought, you always leave me like that.

“Focus, Claude!”

He wondered if it was mean of him to relish when she would display irritation towards him. It was a rare delight to see her frustrated. He had done so many things when he was younger to rile her up and ruffle her feathers but she never reacted the way she did now. After five years, she seemed different, as though life was breathed into her that she started to show different sides of her, even if it was only with him.

He stood up from his crouched position and charged towards her, matching her nimble movements as she dodged out his way.

Turn

He turned to his side and parried away her blade. Her grip was strong, he knew, and it would take much more force for her to let go. He could feel a surge in his body and he knew his crest had activated. Not one to waste an oppurtunity, he slashed away in her direction with increasing force. She barely had time to dodge him and was nicked in the arm. His wound felt hot and he could see that it started to close. He charged at her once again and repeatedly slashed at her until he backed her into one of the pillars in the training grounds; his sword's edge lightly pressed against her throat.

“You'd be dead if this wasn't training, my friend,” he said in between ragged breaths. He gave her a cheeky smile and she gave him a bigger smile in turn.

There you go being cute again, he thought, smiling to himself. Realizing this, he shook his head and frowned.

“Are you alright?”

Byleth asked, the slightest hint of worry showing on her brows. He pressed his forehead against hers for an instant and pulled back.

“I'm sorry,” he said, his breathing slowly stabilizing. “I just have a lot of things on my mind.”

“We can talk about the plan later if you like,” Byleth offered. “Just the two of us this time since we'll be leading them”

He wondered if she had gotten better at reading people but he knew better. She was talking simply and practically.

“I'll get back to you on that, Teach,” he said as he fished his doublet off the floor.

Byleth returned their used weapons to their racks and walked towards Claude. She was combing the tangles out of her hair and trying to clean some grime of her face with the palm of her hand.

Claude chuckeld. She was adorable, indeed.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, my friend, here,” Claude took out his handkerchief and gave it to her. "Keep it. I have a lot of those anyway."

"Hey, my friend," Claude said as he patted Byleth's shoulder.

“Oh, Claude,” Byleth was surprised, her green eyes widening a bit at the sight of him. "I thought you were Yuri."

He laughed it off. Frustration was brewing inside of him but he pushed it deep within himself and hoped it wouldn't surface again.

“I'm offended, Teach,” Claude said with what he hoped was mock annoyance. “I think I look more dashing than he does.”

Byleth let out a small chuckle. Whether she agreed at the thought of it or laughed at him was moot. He loved any display of emotion she offered.

“So, is this seat taken?”

“No,” Byleth gestured for him to sit down. "Go on and sit."

“Are you expecting, Yuri?”

Claude said before spooning a bit of food in his mouth to stop him from saying something he didn't want.

“No,” she said. “It's just that he often calls me ‘friend’.”

“I call you ‘my friend’,” Claude pointed out. “Do they sound so similar to you?”

“No,” Byleth looked at him, at his eyes. He was right to think that she had gotten better at reading people, him in particular. She was searching for something. “I suppose not.”

“See, Teach? I am one of a kind afterall. The one and only, Claude von Reigan. I don't think anyone can top that."

Byleth let out a small laugh. It tickled his ears. He wanted more of it

“On second thought,” Byleth began, “it is similar. You and Yuri are similar in your own ways but different.”

His heart sank. Was he really no different to her? All those times they had steeled away, just the two of them, planning their next move in an upcoming battle and sleeping against each other when they were tired out. All those times she would drape a blanket over his shoulders when she thought he had fallen asleep in the war room. Or when she would bring him a breakfast tray the next day and chat with him when he woke up. Were they all so commonplace to her?

They might be Claude taught, his shoulders slumping in defeat. A sad smile spread across his face. She was kind, afterall. She would always check up on everyone after each battle; even being a shoulder to cry on. She understood very little of emotion but she tried her best to be there for everyone. He figured maybe he had read into their interactions far too deeply. Whether it was wishful thinking or a frivolous distraction, he didn't know. It may be best to stop it now before he suffers further.

“Different good, right?” He offered her.

“Yes,” she said with a small smile.

“Well, Teach” he said as he stood up from his seat, “I'd better head off and sleep. You really gave me a beating today.”

“False humility,” she muttered before taking a sip of water. “You beat me fair and square, Claude. I think I might go to you for training sessions instead.”

“Yeah? I'll look forward to them.”

He excused himself and disposed of his tray in the kitchens. He pushed past the big wooden doors of the Dining Hall and savored the evening air. He saw the moon glimmering over the lake.

He sat on the edge of the fishing platform outside of the Dining Hall, dangling his legs over the barely stirring waters of the lake. Most of the fish were probably resting, he thought, and so should he. Still, his mind was abuzz with the events today.

He knew Byleth had joined Yuri in the sauna after their training session so he decided it was best to leave them be instead of worming his way into their plans. Yuri wasn't someone he wanted to openly antogonize since he had no reason to. He had not done anything to deserve that, he thought. He stretched his hands above his head and leaned back on the platform. He felt at peace looking at the sky.

It was night now, the stars shined against a deep, dark canvas overhead. He loved to look at the stars. It reminded him of how small his troubles were. There was a bigger world out there, bigger than the ones he'd always known. Anticipation and excitement were building in him. Each battle was a step closer to that world. Soon, they'll wake up to a new dawn just as they did when she returned to them, to him.

Friend, he thought ruefully. Friend, alright. Your friend who's being cute. Who's strong enough to beat six knights in single combat.

He sat up and rested his forearms on his thighs. He let out a sad chuckle.

Your friend who always leaves you breathless.

True. She always did. It took her disappearance for him to understand that. There was not a day when he would stop looking for her, teaming up with Yuri to find out where she had gone. Five years of non-stop searches only to have her appear at the Goddess Tower on the day of the would-be Millenium Festival. Auspicious, some would call it — Divine Intervention, even. The Goddess herself has returned and promised a new dawn for all in the land.

He understood that she mattered to him more than as a means for him to achieve his goals; she had not been that to him for so long. He doesn't rememebr when but it came so gradually it was hard to trace. It mattered not to him. What mattered was that he wanted to see that new dawn with her by his side.

His heart began to beat faster. He knew what it meant. If only he had pondered the lingering thoughts and feelings he had buried in the recesses of his heart maybe things would be clearer for him. Who had that luxury in war? One had to survive and that was a privilege and not a right. To think of his feelings right now was a luxury stolen from others that's why he never bothered understanding his own heart. It never sat well for him to consider his own feelings when those around him barely had the chance to do so or had lost theirs when he trampled on their corpses on the battlefield. How many of those men and women had their own feelings that were now lost to memory?

Maybe, he can indulge in this selfishness for once so that he can focus on what needed to be done; get it out of the way before it becomes something he cannot handle in the future. He always stamped down any trivial feelings he had, they were nothing but flights of fancy. And maybe, what he felt for her was too.

She was Byleth: his Teach, his stars, and his dawn. Most of all, she was the most important to him in the world right now.

“My love,” he said quietly. Yes, his love. My friend was always my love.

He looked at the lake somberly with his realization. He would do anything for her smile, her laugh. Anything to see her happy. This new dawn was more for her than it is for him. For her to live a new life away from all the tragedies that befell her. A new life where maybe she can love an outsider if she knew how or even one where she'd let him. He had enough love for the both of them.

He wondered if Yuri meant the same when he calls her friend. Were his feelings as strong as his? Did he view Byleth the same way he did?

He remembered he asked her out on a date when they were still students. Claude listened in on their conversation. He realized that his irritation started then. How brazen was he to ask her out? He was a student and she was a professor. He knew however that Byleth understood what it was, though not fully, at the time. He understood too despite himself.

Trivial, he thought. Nevertheless, a distraction.

He tucked his hands beneath his head and lied down on the platform again.

It's time to say goodbye to this for now. We need to concentrate on the war.

Claude wondered if his feelings would die down like he'd hoped despite his proximity to her. She was always by his side that it seemed natural; their dynamics had shifted greatly after five years.

“Well, goodbye for now,” he said softly, his eyes looking at the stars above. “Maybe when the war is over, we could sort it all out."

“Sort what out?”

He bolted upright and turned behind him to see Byleth walking towards him. She sat next to him, her legs dangling over the lake. She looked at him questioningly.

“I know better than to ask what's on your mind,” Byleth started. “I know there are many things.”

“True,” Claude agreed with a soft chuckle.

“You're too distracted lately, Claude,” Byleth said as she leaned closer to him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It's not really something you can help me with, Teach,” Claude said, wistfully looking at the lake. “Not now, at least. Maybe after the war if you're still interested.”

“I don't understand you in many ways, Claude,” Byleth began as she looked to the lake as well. “You always seem to be hiding something. It's not something I understand.”

It's true. She cannot understand. She was an open-book after all. She had no secrets that she willingly kept unlike him. He had many.

Silence fell between them. The sound of cicadas filled their ears.

What was he to say?

Speechless, he thought. Breathless and speechless in so many ways.

“I don't care about your secrets, Claude,” she said, finally. “If there are things you refuse to tell me, then I cannot do anything about them. What matters is you and that you're okay.”

He looked at her. She was staring at the moon now. Her face glowed beneath the moonlight and her eyes reflected the sparkling stars. Unpretentious and unassuming, that's what she was. He never saw her as pretty but she was indeed beautiful in all her innocence and purity. Despite all the blood in her hands over years of battle, she was clean. There was nothing tainted within her. She was as transparent as the waters beneath them yet just as deep. She knew not the intricacies of his life and maybe that's better that way.

“Thanks, Teach,” Claude said after a pause. That was all he could think of saying.

“We'll sort out your problems if you want,” she offered. “Or if I can't help you the least I could do is stay by your side.”

He sat closer to her but they avoided looking at each other.

“Is that a promise, Teach?”

It was different to want that of her and to hear her say it. It felt exhilarating, in fact. It may mean different things to them but he took delight in hearing it. A small consolation for an otheewise trying day.

Byleth turned to him and smiled with squinted eyes. He had never seen her smile like that before. His heart beat faster. He wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms and never let her go. He wanted her to be his but only time will tell if that were possible.

“Yes. Always.”

“Thank you, Teach,” he said as he brought her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “You don't know how much that means to me.”

He felt her hand bristle under his lips but she didn't slip away from his grip. She held on tighter. He looked at her through his fringe as he looked up slightly. She was looking at him with a warm smile and what appeared to be a dust of blush on her cheeks.

He smiled. His heart felt warm and full at the sight of her. He barely understood this feeling but he liked it. He felt that wherever his ambitions might take him, he'll always long to feel this again with her. An outsider like him couldn't understand what this was but maybe one day, he will. One day, he'll have a name for it too but for now, her name will suffice. Wherever in the world Claude was, he'll always search for this feeling with Byleth.

“Teach, I think it's a bit late now,” Claude said as he turned back to see the that Dining Hall lights were now extinguished. “Maybe we should head back to our rooms.”

“Maybe we can stay a while,” Byleth said looking at the moon with soft smile. Her smile seemed almost private and that he was intruding into whatever she was feeling but he felt privileged that she let her guard down around him.

“Alright, my friend,” he began, noticing that she hadn't let go of his hand since he kissed it. “Anything for you.”

Byleth held on to his hand the entire time they looked at the moon. He'll never forget the way it felt to hold her hand in his. He wanted this feeling to last a lifetime and he'll spend the rest of life making sure it happens.

#claude von riegan #byleth #fe3h claude #fe3h byleth #claude x byleth #byleth x claude #fe3h #Fire Emblem: Three Houses

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choerrypuffs · 5 years

Text

the element of substance.

pairing: earthbender!jeno x avatar!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 5.2k

author’s note: jeno’s chapter to my 00 line x avatar series! also this is important - i wanted to clear some things up since i noticed a few of you were confused with jaemin’s chapter. this series is formatted like a dating game. you pick a route with a character (00 line) and then once you finish that route (the fic), you go back and pick another one. the stories have nothing to do with each other, like wiping clean the slate! (this message has also been posted on the masterlist to avoid further confusion)

additional: check out the art that the lovely and EXTREMELY talented steph ( @aqiaquas ) did for this fic here!

Your journey to the Earth Kingdom has not been kind to you.

Everything is so dry, and for lack of a better word, so earthy. No matter how much water you drink, your throat still feels like sandpaper. The food you eat somehow always has the slight aftertaste of dirt. Plus, the weather is horrendous. Most people would enjoy it, since it’s a pleasant springtime warmth, but you’re from the North Pole. Winters are harsh, and summers are practically nonexistent there, which means any rise in temperature is absolute misery for you (you are dreading your eventual trip to the Fire Nation).

You’re about a couple of hours away (by foot) from the Earth Kingdom’s capital, Ba Sing Se, where you will have to consult with the Earth King to find yourself an earthbending master. You don’t really know if marching into the most populated city out of all of the four nations, demanding a conference with the Earth King and asking for an earthbending master immediately is the best approach, but it’s not like you have any other idea or someone else to tell you otherwise.

You’d never realized how awful it is to travel alone. Not having a person to just interact normally with is something you didn’t know you would miss so sorely.

Currently, you’re in a neighboring harbor town to restock your supplies. The goal is to get to Ba Sing Se before the sun sets, which means you don’t have time to dilly-dally. Just as you hand over some coins to pay for your food, you feel a sharp shoulder crash into your own, making you stumble a few steps to the side. The coins are knocked out of your hand and fall onto the dock, some probably rolling off the dock and into the water. Clutching your throbbing shoulder, you turn around to glare at your perpetrators.

“Hey!”

It’s a group of four brutish-looking thugs. Their stares are murderous as they hone in on you, like a pack of rabid wolves. However, you don’t back down. “Watch where you’re going, assholes. And if you won’t, then at least have the decency to apologize when you run into someone.”

The tallest one, bald and sporting a beer belly, takes a step toward you. As he snarls at you, he reveals two rows of rotting teeth. “What did you just say, bitch?”

“I said, apologize,” you hiss back.

You can barely get the last word out before he seizes you by the collar and nearly crushes his nose against yours. His breath smells exactly how you expected it to smell―like a decomposing animal. Your eyes water at the stench, but you still manage to glare up at him.

“You wanna fuckin’ die?” he screams in your face, spittle flying everywhere.

Right when you’re about to create a giant wave and wash all four of them away, there’s suddenly a pale hand wrapped around the wrist of the thug. Taken aback, you can only gawk at the handsome stranger coming to your aid. The stranger’s hair is as black as midnight, just like his eyes. His expression is calm, but there’s something about his naturally piercing gaze that makes you feel slightly intimidated.

The stranger forcibly removes the thug’s hand from your collar and throws him with such force that he flies toward his other three lackeys and hits them like a projectile. The four thugs are knocked out in a heap, like a pile of smelly dung.

You feel your jaw drop at the stranger’s almost inhuman strength as he dusts his hands off like nothing happened. “That...that was amazing.”

There’s annoyance on his face as he turns to look at you. “It was getting in the way of business. Also, next time you cause a scene, could you do it in front of another stand?”

You feel your temper spike again. “Does everyone in this town just have terrible manners?”

The stranger opens his mouth to respond, but the elderly woman who had been working the food stand you were at comes up from behind him and smacks him hard across the head. “Jeno, stop being rude. This young lady has already been through enough today.”

The stranger, Jeno, pouts like a child as he rubs the back of his head. The elderly woman smiles apologetically at you and hands you the bag of food you were planning on purchasing. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you say shyly, ducking your head in gratitude. “The money―”

“Don’t worry about that. Think of it as an apology for my tactless grandson.” She waves you off.

Jeno rolls his eyes but doesn’t try to defend himself. However, you’re already on the ground, picking up the scattered coins. Once you count them, you realize one is missing. That was the last of your funds so you have no way of fully paying her back now. Frowning, you hand the elderly woman the coins that are left and walk over to the edge of the dock.

“Give me just a second.”

You’re not sure how deep the water is, but luckily, there’s no current. Since the water is calm, the chances of the coin not being swept away into the ocean forever is still plausible. Taking a deep breath, you hope what you’re about to do works.

You hold your palms out and slowly lift them. The water surrounding the dock rises with your hands, creating three walls of water around you. You lower your hands, but the water continues to ascend as you search for your coin. Despite your efforts, all you find are pebbles, weeds, and fish.

Just as you’re about to give up, there’s a glint in the corner of your eye. When you turn, you see the missing coin drifting about, entangled with a weed. You plunge your arm into the water without hesitation and extract the coin out. You wipe it dry with the hem of your shirt, not at all bothered that your entire sleeve is dripping wet. Lifting your arms again, you gently bring the water back down, not even making a splash. Satisfied, you smile and walk back over to Jeno and his grandmother.

“There you go,” you say cheerily, holding out the last coin.

The two are both staring at you with absolute astonishment. Jeno is a little more subtle about it, but his grandmother is gaping at you. And it’s not only them, everyone on the dock is staring at you. You suddenly wonder if it was such a good idea to bring so much attention to yourself because they will definitely have questions now. Even though you’re not trying to hide the fact that you’re the Avatar, you don’t exactly want to announce it to every place you go.

“So you’re a waterbender,” Jeno states flatly.

“How’d you know?” you ask sarcastically.

“It’s rare that we see a waterbender around here, and such a powerful one at that,” Jeno’s grandmother marvels.

“Why are you here anyway?” Jeno asks, crossing his arms. “The Water Tribe isn’t exactly known for their sociability and penchant for traveling.”

“I’m going to Ba Sing Se,” you answer vaguely.

“For what?”

“Why is this any of your business?” you shoot back, mirroring him and crossing your arms as well.

“Because I’m also going to Ba Sing Se,” he responds.

“What?” Your eyes widen.

“I’m going to pick up a new shipment of fruit,” he explains. “See how easy it is to tell someone your business when you have nothing to hide? You, on the other hand, haven’t even told us your name.”

You glare at him. “It’s Y/N. Sorry, I don’t like to tell assholes the story of my life.”

Jeno’s grandmother watches you two go back and forth, a scheming smile on her lips. She places her hands on both of your arms, making you turn to look at her. “Perfect! You guys can go together.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Gram,” Jeno chides.

“I think I’d rather go with those thugs from before,” you grumble.

“Ba Sing Se is much more dangerous than you think. You’ll want someone to watch your back,” Gram insists.

“I think she can handle herself,” Jeno snorts.

“I assure you that I can handle myself,” you correct.

“Oh, won’t you put this old woman’s anxious heart to rest?” Gram bats her eyelashes. “Even if you don’t need any help, my Jeno needs someone to look after him. Something bad always happens when he goes to Ba Sing Se.”

“Gram,” Jeno says sharply, a warning flashing in his eyes. “that’s enough.”

She immediately quiets down, shrinking back a little. You scowl at Jeno, even though he’s already starting to look guilty. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“This has nothing to do with you―”

“Actually, it does. Because you just found your new traveling buddy.”

You know for a fact that Jeno isn’t normally this quick of a walker. He’s just doing this to annoy you, and it’s working, but you’re too busy trying to keep up with his pace to really give him an earful for it. You’re actually working up a sweat trying to match his long strides with your somewhat shorter legs.

“Can you please―slow down?” you wheeze, finally able to muster enough breath to speak.

Jeno doesn’t even have time to answer when your foot catches on a pesky rock and you come crashing down onto the dirt road. You land hard and it knocks the air (the little that’s left) out of you. Groaning, you can only mumble a soft ow as you sit up.

For the first time since you two left, Jeno turns around. He walks over to you and lowers himself onto one knee, taking your arm and putting it around his shoulders as he helps you get up. “Are you okay?”

“No thanks to you,” you mutter, wincing when you put weight onto your legs. The skin on your left knee has been completely scraped off and you’re bleeding through the material of your pants.

“I’m sorry,” he says genuinely, looking remorseful. “I’ve been...on edge today and it was wrong of me to take it out on you.”

“Well, I haven’t been exactly helpful in calming you down, now have I?” you snort.

“No, I was rude to you first. I deserve it.” He shakes his head.

The two of you fall quiet. Your arm is still around his shoulder and one of his hands has naturally found itself on your waist. Clearing your throat, you awkwardly step away from him and let your arm fall limply to your side. “Um, thanks.”

“Can you walk?” Jeno asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he eyes your knee.

“I’ll manage,” you reply, bouncing around to gauge the pain. It hurts way more than you expect it to, but you try to play it off like it doesn’t. Your pride as the Avatar has slightly been hurt at the fact that a mere knee scrape has managed to take you down.

However, Jeno is extremely unconvinced. He frowns as he watches the blood seep through your pants every time you put weight on that leg. Turning, he squats down and puts his arms out from behind him. “Get on.”

“What?” you ask, still not understanding.

“I’ll carry you.”

“You’re going to carry me for the entirety of the walk to Ba Sing Se?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he answers simply.

“You’re not very good at making jokes,” you snort. “Let’s just go before it gets too late.”

“I’m not joking though.” His head swivels around to give you a puzzled look.

“You’ll die of exhaustion! Even if you’re freakishly strong,” you exclaim.

“I appreciate the concern,” he chuckles, “but I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think I could do it.”

“Jeno, it’s really not that serious. I can walk,” you sigh.

“We’re going to argue pointlessly, only to have get on my back anyway, so can we just get to that part?” He mimics your sigh.

It’s clear he won’t have it any other way. The stubborn part of you wants to resist until the very end, but you’re losing daylight fast and yielding is your only option. Grumbling, you reluctantly climb onto his back. You’re surprised by the broad expanse of it and how secure you feel when he carries you. Jeno’s slim fingers grip your thighs firmly as he adjusts you before beginning to walk again.

You wrap you arms around his neck and press your cheek against the space between his shoulder blades. When you breathe in, you can only smell him. Jeno’s scent is dizzying mix of sandalwood and soap, dulling your senses like some sort of drug. For a guy that works at a stand that sells fish, he smells way too good.

“So, what’s up with you and Ba Sing Se?” you blurt, trying to distract yourself.

“Why is this any of your business?” he asks, copying your words.

“You can’t expect me not to ask. Your grandma was super worried about you going and you just said you’ve been on edge all day. Do you owe people there money or something?”

“I thought we had an understanding that we weren’t going to ask each other questions,” he answers curtly.

“What, you don’t trust me? I thought we had a bonding moment back there! You’re literally carrying me on your back,” you whine.

“So tell me why you’re going then.”

You hesitate, not sure if you should reveal the truth to him or not. If push comes to shove, you are extremely confident in your ability to kick his ass so it’s not like your safety is compromised. Jeno doesn’t really seem like the type of person to constantly run his mouth either, so you doubt that he’ll instantly tell everyone. Shrugging, you decide to just go for it.

“I’m the Avatar,” you say casually, “and I’m going to Ba Sing Se because I need an earthbending teacher. See how easy it is to tell someone your business when you have nothing to hide?”

Jeno stops in his tracks. His arms slightly fall slack, and you think he’s about to drop you, but they regain their strength quickly. His head turns to the side so he can look at you with bewilderment. “What did you just say?”

“I am the Avatar,” you repeat slowly, watching the cogs turn in his head.

There’s a beat of silence before your declaration registers.

“You―wait―why would you just tell me that?” he splutters.

“You asked!”

“So you just answered? What if I tried to kill you right now or something?” he demands. “How could you be so reckless? Try to lie at least!”

“First of all, you must be out of your mind if you think you can kill me. Second, I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t think you were trustworthy. Can’t say you feel the same towards me though.” You roll your eyes.

“I am actually speechless right now.” Jeno shakes his head.

“That’s right. You’re carrying the Avatar. Relish in it,” you say proudly.

“I’ve never seen an Avatar as rash as you,” he mumbles.

“Hey! Put some respect on my name,” you protest.

He snickers and you slap his shoulder. “So, now am I worthy enough for you to tell me what your deal with Ba Sing Se is?”

“I just don’t have good memories associated with Ba Sing Se. It’s not as mysterious as you think. It pales in comparison to what you just told me,” he sighs.

“Are you an earthbender?”

Since he worked at food stand in a small harbor town, you assumed he wasn’t but you weren’t so sure about that now. Considering the fact that his expression grows stormy even at the mention of Ba Sing Se, it’s clear that he was―at one point or another―deeply linked to it.

“No,” Jeno answers a little too quickly.

Such an obvious lie, but you decide not to push it further. He probably won’t tell you much more anyway. In the end, you two are just strangers.

Somehow along the way, you fall asleep.

You don’t really remember when or how, because the two of you had a constant stream of conversation (mainly facilitated by you) going. All you know is that you’re currently being shaken awake. Jeno is bouncing you against his back like a baby, trying to jar you from your slumber.

“Y/N, we’re here.”

Rubbing your eyes, you blearily try to grasp what is going on. Jeno is walking down a busy road and from the way he is confidently striding, he has a clear destination in mind. The two of you get stares from the locals, but he pays no attention.

“Where are we going?” you ask, yawning.

“To pick up my shipment of fruit and get your wound treated.”

“But that still doesn’t answer my question. Where are we going?” You’re a little more alert now, knowing that you’ll have to meet with the Earth King soon.

“My supplier’s house. He’s a friend of mine,” he explains, “his name is Doyoung.”

“Is he going to be okay with me barging in?” You raise an eyebrow.

“As long as we’re in and out of there quickly. He doesn’t like people dirtying his place.”

“Well, he just sounds like a bundle of joy,” you say wryly.

“Doyoung is a nice guy. He’s just a little...prissy,” Jeno chuckles.

The two of you walk for just a little longer before he stops in front of a cozy and humble-looking mudbrick house. He sets you down at the doorstep so he can knock. You’re a little wobbly since it’s the first time you’ve been on your feet in hours, and you realize just how long Jeno has been carrying you. To your utter shock, he’s barely broken a sweat.

The door opens shortly after Jeno knocks and the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life appears. Pale, luminous skin with delicate features and dark hair that fans his face perfectly. His angelic expression is quickly ruined when he sees you. “I didn’t realize you were picking up strays now, Jeno.”

You sigh. Why do all of the handsome men you meet lack manners?

“She’s not a stray, Doyoung. She was, er, at the stand and told Gram that she was going to Ba Sing Se, so Gram made me escort her here,” Jeno explains. “Her knee is all scraped up, so can you treat it?”

You bite back a tiny smile, noting that he didn’t reveal your identity.

“I really don’t want to, but I know you’re not going to leave me alone until I do. Come on in, I guess,” Doyoung grumbles, stepping aside to let you in.

Jeno grabs your arm and helps you hobble over to one of the chairs in Doyoung’s living room. As he does, Doyoung begins rummaging around in a different room. He comes back with some sort of salve and a roll of gauze in hand.

“Jeno, your fruit is in the storage in the back. Go get it while I take care of this situation and don’t forget to organize everything back to the way it was,” Doyoung orders.

You really don’t want Jeno to leave you alone with Doyoung because he kind of scares you, but Jeno doesn’t get your signal and leaves. Doyoung squats down in front of you, examining the scrape on your knee. Most of the blood has crusted over, but it’s still extremely tender and raw. He squeezes the salve onto his fingertips and applies it onto the scrape in slow circles. The salve must have some sort of numbing effect because it stings way less than you expect it to.

“So what was the actual reason Gram sent you with Jeno to Ba Sing Se?” Doyoung asks nonchalantly.

“Pardon?” You blink.

“Did Gram really tell Jeno to escort you here?”

“Well, uh, it was kind of the opposite. She wanted me to escort him,” you admit. “I guess to protect him, since he’s not an earthbender.”

He snorts. “And who told you that?”

“Jeno did.”

“And you believed him?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No, but what choice do I have?”

“Good. Because Lee Jeno is the strongest earthbender in the Earth Kingdom,” Doyoung states. “And probably the worst liar, so you’d be a fool to believe him.”

Even though this revelation should shock you to your core, you’re not that surprised for some reason. You’re mostly just confused. “But why did he lie?”

“Because he doesn’t bend anymore.”

“And why are you telling me this?” you ask warily.

Doyoung looks you in your eyes.

“Because Gram wouldn’t have sent you here if she didn’t think you could help him.”

It takes Jeno a very long time to come back from the storage. When he does, he’s carrying a large crate and his chest is heaving. He looks more exhausted than he did when you were on his back. Doyoung is not fazed at his state.

“Everything better be in the exact same spot like it was before,” he warns.

“Why would you put the crate in the very back when you knew I was coming to get it today?” Jeno whines.

“The workers put it there, and who am I to stop them?” Doyoung shrugs. “Anyways, get out of my house.”

You get up with your freshly bandaged leg and walk over to Jeno. “We need to talk.”

“Not in here, you don’t,” Doyoung interrupts.

Jeno nods toward the door. “Let’s get out of here first.��

Clenching your jaw, you yank open the door for him and follow him out. Once you’re a good distance from Doyoung’s house, Jeno turns and faces you. “What did you want to talk about?”

You look around. Doyoung lives in a rather secluded area, and there’s not much around except for the rocky terrain that surrounds it. You make sure Doyoung’s house isn’t in the line of fire before walking up to Jeno. You take the crate out of his arms and set it on the ground, about five feet away from him, before climbing on top of it and sitting cross-legged.

“Be my earthbending teacher.”

Judging by the look on his face, he’s been expecting it. His arms hang limply by his sides, like he’s already accepted defeat. “What did Doyoung tell you?”

“Lee Jeno. You joined the Dai Li, Ba Sing Se’s most elite secret police force, at the age of thirteen. Your abilities were so exceptional that you became their leader on your eighteenth birthday. You were at the forefront of countless successful operations and cemented yourself as the Earth Kingdom’s strongest soldier. However, you abruptly resigned after leading the Dai Li for two years and left Ba Sing Se to live with your grandmother in a small harbor town. You swore to never bend again and live the rest of your life in obscurity.”

Jeno laughs harshly. “So he told you everything. Figures.”

“Why did you stop bending?” you ask softly.

“Because I was nothing more than a weapon to them. Because I was losing my humanity. Because I didn’t want to be a pawn anymore,” he whispers. He sounds so broken, so angry, so hurt. “Nothing good ever happens when I earthbend, so I stopped.”

“Do you hate earthbending?”

“Gods, I wish I did,” he says bitterly.

“Then stop denying what is natural to you. Earthbending is in your blood.” You grasp his arms.

“No.” Jeno steps away from you, like your touch is hurting him. “Doyoung may think that you can be my savior or some shit, but you can’t. I won’t ever bend again, okay? So, please. Let’s just leave.”

You straighten your back. “Alright. We can leave. But only if you can get this crate out from under me.”

He sighs. “Y/N―”

“It’s a simple task, really. If we’re going by brute strength only, you’ve got me beat by a landslide. You could just pick me up and throw me off,” you point out.

Jeno looks at you like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum, but nonetheless starts walking toward you. He almost gets to you before suddenly coming to a skidding halt. When he looks down, he sees that his legs are covered in ice. You had pulled the moisture from the ground and frozen it.

“But we’re not going by brute strength only, now are we?” you tease in a sing-song voice.

“Y/N, this isn’t funny,” he says seriously. “Neither of us have the time to be doing this right now.”

“I know. It’s just strong enough that you can’t punch your way through it, but it could be shattered instantly if, let’s say, it were hit by a relatively large rock?” You tap your chin, pretending to ponder.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m selfish and I want you to teach me earthbending,” you reply.

Jeno says nothing, clenching his fists. You can tell he’s starting to get irritated.

“I can do this all day,” you say breezily, examining your nails. You try your best to look as flippant as possible, doing everything in your power to rile him up.

“Y/N, this is the last warning.” His voice is low.

“What, are you actually going to do something?” you taunt.

The pebbles around Jeno slowly begin to levitate. You can literally feel the ground tremble as he gets angrier. He forms the pebbles into one big rock and uses it to destroy the ice. Once he’s free, he stomps his foot on the ground and tosses a perfectly round boulder in the air before kicking it directly towards you―or rather, directly towards the crate so he can knock it out from under you.

You quickly pull a tendril of water out of your canteen and use it as a whip to destroy the boulder before it can reach the crate. It makes a loud crack noise when it hits and the boulder shatters into tiny pebbles again. You suppress a yelp when the ground suddenly begins to move. The crate is sliding forward, picking up acceleration as it (and you) speeds toward Jeno.

You suck out as much water from the ground as possible and manage to create a small tidal wave, pushing it at him. The force of the water knocks him back and onto the ground. You quickly freeze the crate in place, stopping it in its tracks. When Jeno sits up, you can see the joy in his face. That mischievous, almost child-like sparkle in his eyes when you two spar head-to-head. The love for earthbending that he tried so desperately to hide.

He begins gearing up for his next attack, but you don’t do anything to retaliate. Instead, you unfreeze the crate and take the hit. You get thrown onto the ground, but Jeno makes sure your fall is cushioned. You scrunch your nose up when you realize you’re covered in mud.

“Why didn’t you avoid it?” Jeno asks, helping you get back up.

“Because my job here is done,” you shrug, trying to wipe the mud off (but you end up smearing it into your clothes).

“What do you mean?”

“I just wanted you to remember what it feels like to bend,” you smile sadly. “I wish you could see the look on your face when you earthbend, Jeno.”

“I―”

“I have to go, but remember this. You are an earthbender, not a weapon.”

After the fight with Jeno, you go straight to the palace to request an audience with the Earth King. Luckily, they were already expecting you so you don’t have to convince people that you’re the Avatar. Since it was pretty late, the king insists you spend the night and that he will speak to you about an earthbending master the next day.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re whisked away by the maids. They give you Earth Kingdom robes since your old clothes are still drying and braid your hair before taking you to the throne room. There, the king informs you that your earthbending master is currently in Omashu, the second largest city in the Earth Kingdom, and will be there for some time so it would be best for you to go to him. The king tells you that transportation to Omashu will be provided by his army and that you embark later this afternoon, which means you have about three hours to kill.

You laze around in your guest bedroom, unable to really focus on anything. Your mind constantly goes back to Jeno, no matter how much you try to distract yourself.

I hope he made it back to the harbor town safely.

Shaking your head furiously, you chide yourself for worrying about him. You did what you could, and now he isn’t your problem anymore. You’re the Avatar; you don’t have time to be thinking about some boy.

Yet...

“Avatar Y/N?”

You jolt up when you hear the maid’s voice. “Yes?”

“Your carriage has arrived.”

Cringing, you want to tell her that it’s a little bit of an overkill to travel by carriage, but you don’t want to make her life more difficult than it is. You get out of bed with a sigh and open the door. The maid bows politely, but you’re not looking at her. Instead, you’re looking at who’s behind her. Unable to control your surprised squeak, you cover your hand with your mouth.

“Why are you here?” you ask, muffling yourself.

Jeno awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. His cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat beading on his forehead. He looks frazzled and out of breath, like he’s been sprinting. “I, uh, talked to the king. He granted me permission to go to Omashu with you and teach you alongside the other earthbending master.”

“But―you―” You can’t even form words.

“You were right.” He talks for you. “I love earthbending. When we sparred, I felt like the void in my chest was filled. Something just...clicked. It was natural. You can’t fight something that naturally comes to you.” Jeno smiles at you. A warm and radiant smile that makes you feel tingly. He holds his hand out. “Thank you, Y/N.”

When you place your hand in his, you feel the same way you did when he was carrying you. Secure. The tension in your body instantly melts away and you subconsciously step closer to him, grinning.

“Guess you just found your new traveling buddy.”

“Oh, by the way, Doyoung got this letter in the mail from Gram today. It’s addressed to you and she specifically told us not to open it.”

take care of my grandson, avatar y/n

- gram

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