#god pls. pls can shows be less yellow

[skulandcrossbones]

PASIN & JIN-MAN — a shop for killers 1x07

#asfkedit #ashopforkillersedit #a shop for killers #pasin asfk #jeong jin man #kdramaedit #kdramasource #kdramadaily #tvedit #ME AND WHO!!! ME. AND. WHO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #originals #blood cw #gore cw #god pls. pls can shows be less yellow #this colouring is awful but it's the best i could do 😩

[luveline]

hi jade !!! i absolutely adore ur fics of eddie n r with kids they’re always so cute :((( like they fr warm my heart sm !!

if ur still taking requests could u pls write smn w r and roan coloring eddie’s tattoos? it’s totally cool if not !! much luv 🫶🫶🫶

hi yes of course tysm for ur request 🥺

You're curled up on the small couch with your head in a book when Roan runs full pelt into the living room. Eddie, sitting on the floor with his hair tickling your thigh, opens his arms to catch her.

"God, you're a bombshell," he complains as she lands, "and where have your socks gone?"

She digs her feet into him and laughs, a move that shows very much who's daughter she is.

She's not big enough to do any damage and still Eddie whines, turning his face to you to beg for some saving. "She's making ground beef out of my legs."

"You're made of beef?" you ask mildly, turning a yellowed page. "Like a cow."

"Moo," Roan says.

Eddie feels at once like he's been gravely insulted and proud of her for remembering what animal makes what sound. He settles on glaring at her until she moo's again, and then stroking her hair behind her ears with a sigh.

"Your hair is getting soooo long, mini me. Do you wanna haircut?" He pretends to snip at her hair with his fingers.

You actually close your book at that. "It's beautiful. I love how even when it's brushed the ends stay lovely and curled. And when you do the ringlets," you praise, sounding dreamy. You rake your fingers through Eddie's hair and goosebumps race down his arms. "Just like her dad's."

You kiss the top of his head and then stand. "I'm gonna heat up that soup I brought, okay?"

He reaches out to stroke your leg as you go.

Roan hums a song under his head, hands on his arm. She tickles his bicep without meaning to and he giggles like an idiot, wrapping his arms around her back to restrain her.

"You didn't answer my question," he tells her.

"Question?" she says. It's a mouthful of a word for her, he's surprised she can get through it.

"You want a haircut? It's almost to your tummy." An exaggeration. It's just below her chest. "If you cut it all your curls would come back."

"Like daddy's?"

"Kind of."

Roan hums some more and then climbs out of his lap without answering his question. He takes it as a no, anyhow, and isn't surprised. Her hair looks lovely either way, he'd just wanted to express that she has the choice.

Abandoned, Eddie closes his eyes and drops his head into the space where you'd been. He loves Sunday's like this because the cleaning's been done, Roan's clothes have been washed, and all there is to do is sit and listen to his two girls making noise. You flit back and forth in the kitchen buffeted by the sounds of cooking, the smell of soup rich and enough to make his stomach ache. How nice, to be cooked for. Roan bumps around in her bedroom.

"Do you want me to go out and get some bread?" he calls.

"There's enough!" you call back. "Grilled cheese en route."

"Oh god," he murmurs, voice quiet and thick with delight, "I'm spoiled beyond my wildest dreams here. Blessed, even, I-"

His dramatics are cut short by Roan once again catapulting into his lap. He groans at the impact, screwing his eyes closed to play dead.

A cold wetness moves over his skin. He worries she's spit on him, but then Roan presses a little harder and the nib of a pen becomes clear. He peels his eyes open and finds her colouring the puppet with her washables.

Roan couldn't care less at his condition, he finds, her small hands on his arm and turning so she can see the puppeteer and his demon. He'd worried when she was a baby that one day she'd get scared of his tattoos. They're not the most kid-friendly he could have chosen when he was nineteen.

Despite plans for a small 'R' somewhere safe, he hasn't had a tattoo since she was born. Money has either been too tight or too sacred; how could he spend it on himself? There's always dolls and houses and dresses to buy, always ice cream and days out and things she needs.

She's chosen a soft pink. His skin is just pale enough to show it.

"Whatcha doing?" he asks redundantly.

"Colouring."

"I can see that. Any reason?"

"I like pink most."

"I can see that, too," he says. Roan swaps one pink for another. She doesn't try very hard to stay in the lines and he's not bothered. When she colours the puppeteer's hand in a fiercer purple he's actually quite impressed.

"That is beautiful," he says, giving the top of her arm a squeeze.

"'Nother one?" she asks.

He bradishes his other arm. "Please, baby."

She tries to colour the bats in green and pink, almost like flowers. It doesn't really work, as they're almost solid blocks of colour, but it's a valiant effort and he thanks her for it with a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

She loves it, giving him one in return. The pen in her hand leaves a long line up his neck as she ducks in.

Roan pulls away with a beaming smile.

He takes a chance and cups her face in his hand. Or rather, his thumb, because her face is tiny. "Thank you, Roan. You're a good drawer, you know? You're really good."

She smiles some more, shy and happy and adorable. He's shocked at how lovely she is whilst looking like him. It doesn't make any sense at all.

"Roan, you want grilled cheese, princess?" you call.

Eddie caps her pen and pulls her up into his arms. She takes it for a cuddle and hugs him as he carries her to the kitchen, all heavy and sweet in the nook of his neck.

"My girl's an artist."

You melt at the sight. Table set and dinner plated, you throw the hand towel over your shoulder and stand as close to him as you can. "Nice tattoos, handsome," you say.

"She is! Yes. Maybe I can have some tattoos after dinner," you say, voice taking on the bubble affect of parentese.

"Yes!" Roan shouts.

"I think we're agreed," Eddie drawls. "Now for our feast. Thank you, my lady."

You flick his shoulder. "Yeah, you're welcome, hotshot."

-

more eddie and roan

#eddie and roan #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

[pdouwes]

Hi, I'm a big fan of your blog and your gifs in general! I was wondering if you had any tutorial on how you color? Particularly your Wicked and Hadestown gifs look incredibly gorgeous and the colors really pop, and I'm so curious as to how you achieve those effects. Amazing work overall :D

hiii, oh my god thank you so much!! 🥺❤️

i'm happy to show you how i color my gifs but pls note that i basically have no idea what i'm doing, everything i know i taught myself via trial and error and this is just something i found works for me.

that being said, here's a quick (and very messy) bootleg coloring tutorial under the cut!

okay so, when it comes to making gifs and coloring in general, good source material is key. bright and clear videos make the coloring process SO much easier.

i picked an old 2010 wicked oberhausen boot for this tutorial. it doesn't have the highest resolution but the colors translate nicely and the lighting is pretty good as well.

now, this is our base gif cropped and sharpened. i usually want my gifs to look as natural and as close to their base version as possible with just colors and contrast enhanced slightly. baby steps are important here!

first thing i do is add a brightness/contrast layer. these are my settings for this gif:

i rarely ever go above 20 with either brightness or contrast. adding too much early on will make your gif look grainy in the end. our gif now looks like this:

not much has changed but a little goes a long way, trust me. next up is a curves layer. i click the little arrow to open the drop down menu and select increase contrast (rgb). afterwards i reduce the opacity. for this gif i set it to 52%.

this will darken the gif again but it also gets rid of these white spots on elphaba's dress which is great.

next, we start playing around with colors. i usually use 3 color fill and one or two selective color layers. this really is just playing around until you find the settings that you think look good. for this gif i wanted to enhance the green and neutralise some of the yellow, so i went with two color fill layers first.

green to slightly enhance the green of elphie's skin and blue to neutralise the yellow in glinda's hair.

next we're going with a selective color layer. think of the colors you want to pop. for this gif the obvious choices are elphie's skin and glinda's dress.

i added a second layer to further adjust the greens

and ended up with this gif

i then added another color fill layer, set it to multiply and reduced the opacity to 12

followed by a color balance layer

the purpose of these layers is to slightly "cool down" the gif, meaning they decrease orange/yellow undertones while enhancing the blue and purple ones.

next up is a levels layer to add a tiny bit more brightness

followed by a vibrance layer to make existing colors pop

and another curves layer for more brightness/contrast with the opacity set to 50%

our gif now looks like this:

almost done! we're finishing up with a black and white gradient map layer for some more depth

and a cooling filter to further reduce the yellow/orange tones of glinda's face and hair

and that's it!

so, here you go. this is my coloring process most of the time. sometimes i add more layers (on top or in between), other times i use less, it all depends on the specific scene and the mood i'm in lol.

now, could you leave out some of these steps? yeah, definitely. some layers probably don't even make that much of a difference but i like adding them anyway.

you can download the psd here. feel free to play around with my settings and add or delete layers as you see fit. hope this was at least somewhat helpful!

#ask #coloring tutorial #photoshop tutorial #*psd #*tutorial #*ps help #i don't know how to explain things i'm sorry

[porfiriea]

id love to hear an essay on how much you love Eua :33 i really love her as well but i wasnt too keen on how she was handled at the end of Sotsu

DGHDHD ACTUALLY TY FOR ASKING ME THIS

So, one of the main reasons I'm in the WTC fandom rn is actually Eua! Basically, I was going through my old pinterest boards in like 2021 or smtn, and I noticed the higurashi board I made wayyy back. So, I clicked on it, and under the 'find more ideas' I saw a character that looked like Hanyuu, but not completely. I thought they changed her design, blah blah blah, went to google and found out that gousotsu is a thing. But me being my neurodivergent self, I realised that I have to **read all of the higurashi and umineko VNs before I can watch it**. And so I did.

Now, let's talk about Eua's design for a bit. The grand theatre color palette usually consists of reds, yellows, and purples; and there are plenty of them in Eua's as well.

Secondly, her design, while still managing to look(a lot) like Featherine, puts a slightly different spin on the hair.

Now, I don't think that r07 planned this(cough, man looks for design inspo in magazines) BUT Hanyuu and Featherine have a very similar hairstyle, not just color and name.

Shape language bby. Yeas.

The triangular shapes of Eua's hair make her look much more dangerous than Hanyuu, but they also make her look far less reliable than Featherine.

Also! The way her hair frames her face makes Eua look like Thalia(the muse of comedy), or 'the smiling theatre mask'

In Eua's introduction, gousotsu version, she doesn't appear until Satoko is alone(in a dark shed too hdhdh), and in meguri she strikes while Satoko is basically 'reaching out for her old life'. She appears, and forces the story onto Satokky.

Basically, while Satoko is thinking 'woah I wanna go back to when I was closer to Rikuh and my friends', she asks 'hey you wanna do exactly that', but she doesn't really mention the part where, idduno, Satoko's mental health will decline if she does it?

She reveals the loops, but only the parts she wants Satoko to see. Also??? The ohoho girl literally has no idea what she's supposed to do! Without even saying so, Eua's convinced her that she can only rely on the power she bestowed. She doesn't lie, but she does deceive, spoon feeding Satoko hand picked half-truths.

I've talked about this take before, but Eua is absolutely affection bombing/using the push and pull method on Satoko but I honestly think that it needs to be said more often! Satoko is a kid going through a really tough part of her life, and if Eua didn't decide to make herself some entertainment out of it, she would have probably solved it.

Now... Eua had the potential to be a much more interesting character, and I am honest to god praying that meguri does smtn cool with her. Pls.

No, but actually. Her role of the 'corruptor'(person who gives Satokky the looping powers) could have been fulfilled by Une or Tamurahime, as they both have a certain dislike of Hanyuu and by extension Rika as well.

But they didn't use Tamura or Une! And that means.... There's probably a reason as to why not.

It really goes to show how absolutely manipulative Eua is, because only she could play that part, and how the only thing important to her is her own entertainment and-

Wait, doesn't this sound familiar? Eua is allegory of us, the viewers.

She calls Hanyuu her double, because really, they are two sides of the same coin. We as the onlookers want to see Rika Furude escape the endless June, but we also want to be entertained by their suffering at the same time.

And that means that I can proudly say: 'shes just like me frrr' . She's the type of blorbie that I don't know if I love to hate or hate to love, but uhhhh.. Hot. Yeas.

I like it when a character is like an underdeveloped fetus so I can make shit up about them😋🥰

#silly mode on😋😋😋 #pocaposts #poca.txt #the sillies are strong with this one #THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME ABOUT MY TAKES. #higurashi #wtc #higurashi when they cry #higurashi no naku koro ni #higurashi meguri #higurashi sotsu #higurashi gou #eua #eua higurashi #higurashi eua #featherine augustus aurora #featherine #not featherine #satoko hojou #also she is the definition of wasted potential

[itoshi-s]

*inhale* hello zari😫🥹I MISSED U SOOO!!! i hope you’ve been having a lovely holidays and staying toasty warm ! i wanted to drop by and *ahem* give you some thirst over slytherin! rin to warm up your brain hehe

slytherin! rin who’s a pompous pure blood that struts the halls of hogwarts in confidence. you’d think he’d be 100x worse than draco malfoy and join in on the dreadful boy’s torture on poor neville but instead, the boy sneers at his fellow slytherin, “preying on the weak shows how incompetent you are malfoy.”

walking hastily away from the scene rin rolls his eyes in annoyance over his peers, how could they pay such wasteful attention to something lowly such as bullying as a means for entertainment and show of power he’ll never know, he’d much rather focus on his studies to prepare to take over his family’s business as an itoshi heir, and to also kick gryffindor ass since he (not to brag, but he thinks it deserves bragging rights) not only took position of seeker, much to isagi’s dismay, he’s far in too deep to take a rest now.

in the midst of his thoughts he fails to watch where he was going and bumps into a… less taller individual, hearing the small “oof” of them he skids to a halt and looks down to see you. the bright yellow of your house’s scarf showcasing your hufflepuff pride you rub your arm in attempt to soothe the slight ache from bumping into itoshi rin.

“ah i’m sorry! i should’ve moved out the way since you in such a hurry! are you o-“

“no need to apologize.” he mutters, trying to keep a straight face around you. he’s always like this! WHY? you, who he notices takes care of the flowerbed at the kindness of your heart, you, who always makes sure to have an extra quil ready for him since he always loses them, you, who always offers to be his partner during potions since no one else wanted to ask.

he should think you’re annoying. a nuisance. a pain in his neck. how dare you act like you care for him? was he weak? was he seen as someone who needed help? from no other than a hufflepuff? he should think this way— after all his slytherin pride is on the line. but he can’t. not with you.

he loves how you take care of the flowerbeds when no one else cared to do so, he makes sure the water pail is filled all the way up for you. he loves how you have an extra quil for him, he makes sure your notes are in order since he knows you can be a bit frazzled and misplace them. he loves how you always partner up with him at potions, he’ll make sure to help you with their class work, after all, he’d never partner up with no one else but you.

“rin? riinnn? are you there?” you wave a hand in front of his face, gently smiling to him as you see him break out of his trance. “you okay? didn’t know bumping into me would put you through a different universe.” you mused.

clearing his throat he fixed his posture and (horribly) tried to hide the ever growing blush on his face as he guided you through the busy hallway with a hand on your back, “nonsense, you’re much too light to have affected me physically. besides you need to be more careful.” you raise a brow but let him scold you, “if it wasn’t me who bumped into you someone else surely would’ve pushed you to the floor.”

grinning to yourself you lightly bump your hip to his, “ohhh? itoshi rin is worried about me?”

‘tch’ing’ at you he ruffles your hair and lightly pushes you forward so that you wouldn’t see how RED he was! “merlin you’re insufferable.”

oh he’s got it badddd.

KAAAAAAAAYYYLAAAAAAAAAAAAAA @_@ ohhhhh my god THIS IS GOLD ..... HE'S A SLYTHERIN HE IS !!!!!!! and he makes it look so good ong </3 THE PINING !!! THE CRUSH !!!!!!!!!! he's so cute w a hufflepuff girl too :(((((((( PLS the way this ignited this deep carnal need to reread hp again kjfhakfahk THIS IS SO SWEET i am literally just o_o giggling at work reading this !!!!!!!!!! kayla the queen of all au's i dont make the rules ! >_<

#✧.* lovelies (ﾉ´ з `) / (kayla) #kayla beloved <3 u are a blessing i am kissing u on the mouth for this mhm mhm #rin itoshi x reader #rin my love

[zero-ek]

Oh look, it's another vsinger/utaite post... again, who'd've thought.

A lot happened this week and i don't want to flood your dashboard so long post it is...

First and i think what i've been looking forward to the most was Tamu's first live concert, and quite honestly i'm still amazed by pretty much everything about it. There wasn't a live band or a big screen with visuals to serve as eye-candy, but they made up for it with what i think was one of the best visual performances from an independent i've ever seen.

Like, she had two dancers for certain songs who were absolutely stunning, like the m o v e s they were pulling, and she actually danced on a couple of songs herself. And on top of that, they actually made her newest designs into actual outfits, you see these?

(This falls under her guidelines for use of official material, and i don't see anything on Hifumi's page against the use of official illustrations for sharing and or commentary so don't come after me pls)

Yeah they're real, and not like in a "this looks like a cosplay way" no it's like the right materials and everything she actually looks like this^^, she even did the inner yellow on her hair it's crazy. I know they did the outfits for the La Prière shows but i didn't think they'd do the same for her own concert, and i think that's very cool.

(If you wanna see them, there's photos of the "Persona" one on her Twitter, and she actually did a watchalong where you can see like 20mins of the concert, it's unlisted but she keeps the links on her Twitter.)

Now visuals are cool and all but the singing is where it's at, and holy god she has no chill, like literally i think there was like one calm song, which was still quite upbeat. It never ceases to impress me how she can go immediately from her lower talking voice to the super high notes her songs have, and i love the pairing of it with the heavy instrumentation of her songs in a live setting, the first half of the concert sounded huge and she cuts straight though with her vocals.

I guess i should mention it, but while "Endgame" was the song i was looking forward to the most, i cannot get "Trade Off" out of my head ever since, particularly that "Kyou mo nemurenai de iru no wa, koko wa mou sude ni yume no naka" hook, i never thought much of the song before and now it's probably one of my favorites, goes to show how much live concerts can change your perception of certain tracks.

My only issue with the concert is that they didn't allow the crowd to mosh during the heavier songs, particularly the breakdown in Endgame.

Tangential to Tamu is that she dropped a new cover today with the LaPri gals, and there is like a billion things i could say about it but i need to mention that this makes the third time nayuta's using a inner pink short hair look so that means you can add another design to the roster:

(She's the last one to get 3D'd because they can't decide what design they should go with.)

On the Kamitsubaki side, Joucho's had her second live concert Anima II, which i'd love to say i could comment more on, but i couldn't watch it since it came exactly the same time as Tamu's. Which sucks because from what i saw from screenshots and reports not only it looked really cool, but i'm really curious about what's going on with the Sinka live series and Kamicity, i feel like the story is finally starting to make some sense but i've been having less and less opportunities to follow it. They usually do rebroadcasts a couple months after, though, so something to look forward to.

In other news, Harusaruhi got moefied!

(She's now legally required to cover Yoidore Shirazu, it's just the way it is)

Not even surprised, considering pretty much every single official material of her has been done by Isshiki, i mean the moment i saw HARU's official illustration was done by them i knew a redesign was coming. I cannot remember when was the last time i saw something done by her old illustrator, but to be honest i cannot remember things in general.

(I'm aware of the less than official reasons too, which i don't give much credit to but find it hard to completely disregard)

I like it? But i feel like at this point the original is evergreen to me, like it's what i think about when i picture Harusaruhi. I'm sure it'll grow on me but i'm not super crazy in love with it as of now. MAJOR point of contention on the headphones tho, the old ones were super cool with the chain and the spikes.

The song that came with it tho is super cool and i can't believe it's not Takayan, it really stays true to the sound of her latest stuff, which i really like. Though i can't lie i miss the more hip-hop-y vibe from the older songs hopefully the "2005 edgy teenager" look means more of that for the future.

On the Sinsekai, VALIS had a freebie live recently, which was cool. Though it's not a group i'm excited about, i've been listening to them a lot ever since i've picked up their coming, so i got some newfound appreciation for them.

Anyways here's Myu because i like her:

(Go listen to Katsuairon now it's finally on streaming it's the best one of the solo singles plus look at her it's Myu)

I'll do a separate post for the birthday girl because obviously.

#it has been [0] days since the last crash #tumblr why #utaite #vsinger #natsume itsuki #nayuta #kamitsubaki studio #sinsekai studio

[golden-barnes]

Plum tarts and red carnations

Pairing: Florist! Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

Summary: Bucky is enamored with one of the employees of the bakery in front of his store.

Category: Fluff

Warning:s some self-doubting thoughts and cursing .

Word count: 2.5k

Author’s note: I have been thinking about this since that one anon and thank you @buckycuddlebuddy because you helped to inspire me further with this. Also think of Bucky as Beefy because I'm a softy for a gentle giant. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

“Damn Jerry. You’ve been growing nicely. A little bit more, and you will be ready to find a new home, bud.” Bucky whispered to the little sprout he was watering. Bucky loved his morning routine.

Before opening up his shop, he would check on his nursery. Water the plants in his greenhouse, checking them to see how they have grown. He liked talking to them; they never judged him or ignored him. He even named them. Sam would help, too, though he treated it more as a joke.

After checking on the nursery, he would focus on making bouquets and arrangements for the store. Nobody knew he was the one who made those beautiful arrangements, and he liked it.

It was like therapy for him. Matching the flowers and creating bouquets with meaning was a talent Bucky didn’t know he had. By this point, the shop was opened and ready for business.

While preparing a rose bouquet, he saw a woman in an apron running out of the new coffee shop from the table next to the cash register. Oh shit, she’s pretty. He thought. He kept staring at her and forgot the fresh roses next to him, grabbed one carelessly.

“Fuck.” He accidentally pricked his finger with a thorn. He applied pressure to his wounded finger.

“Oh, are you okay, sir?” The pretty woman from the bakery asked. Bucky didn’t notice her entering the shop, and now she was here. Looking disheveled but incredibly beautiful.

“Yeah, happens all the time. What can I help you with?” He said, trying to sound as composed as possible. He could hear Sam’s voice in his head. “Play it cool, Buck.”The woman let out a sigh.

“I’m co-owner of the coffee shop, and it’s our opening day. I was encharged of the decorations, and I ordered some flowers from this other place, but when they got here, they were horrible. Like really bad. And oh god, I’m rambling, but I need a brand new arrangement.” She said all in one breath. Bucky had to fight a smile from appearing. Adorable.

“It’s okay. What colors did you want?” Bucky asked. The woman smiled at him.

“We wanted white and purples. Something simple. But honestly, I know nothing of flowers. I don’t understand why Wanda put me up with this? Now we are late, and I still have to finish decorating the cupcakes.” She explained while Bucky started to search for the flowers in his shop.

“Lilacs, with white peonies and lavender roses, would make a nice bouquet. How does that sound?” Bucky showed her the flowers he was referring to. The woman gasped.

“Oh, they are so pretty! You, sir, are a genius.” She gushed, still looking at the flowers. Bucky felt his cheeks getting red from receiving praise.

“I can bring it to you,” Buckywhispered, afraid that she might not like that idea. “You know, because you still have some stuff to finish, so you can do it, and I’ll bring it to you in less than 10 minutes.” She looked at him and went to hug him. Bucky tensed, not expecting the hug, but soon relaxed.

“You are literally my hero. Just ask for Y/N,” She said, walking towards the exit. “Wait, what’s your name?” She added, opening the door to leave.

“Bucky.” Y/N smiled at him. “See you later, Bucky.”

Bucky has never worked on an arrangement as hard as this one. He was already meticulous, but he really wanted to impress Y/N. Can you blame him? The pretty girl needed his help, and he wanted her to be happy. He even added some baby’s breath and this new white ribbon that had come in for weddings. He was very proud of it but also very nervous.

With a deep breath, Bucky entered the coffee shop. A brunette was at the door, cleaning the tables.

“Sorry, Sir. We are still aren’t open.” She said. Bucky gulped.

“Uhm. I’m looking for Y/N.” He told her; she looked at the flowers in his hands and understood. She yelled for Y/N, who came out of the kitchen with icing on her check, giving him the brightest smile.

“Hey, Bucky! That’s beautiful! How did you make such a pretty arrangement in less than 20 minutes?” She grabbed the vase out of his hands and set it on the counter. Bucky blushed and scratched his neck, shying away.

“It’s nothing.. I’m just happy you liked it.”

“How much do I owe you?” She asked. Bucky put his hands up.

“Oh, it’s on the house. Don’t worry. Call it a welcome gift.” He explained; Y/N jumped and gave him another hug. This time Bucky wrapped his arms around her.

“You are the nicest person on this fucking planet. I have to make it up to you. What’s your favorite fruit?” She pulled away from him and looked at Bucky in the eye. Bucky felt his breath hitch, and his palms get sweaty.

“I-I like plums.” He stuttered. She gave him a big smile and handed him a cookie.

“Hmm, I can make something with that.” She winked at him.

-

“I still haven’t named you, but honestly, I don’t know. You look like a Janelle, but also, I feel like that doesn’t fit.” Bucky said to the new cactus that arrived yesterday, in the afternoon.

“I think she looks like a Lucille.” Bucky turned around and saw Y/N with a box in hand.

“Oh, hi.” He felt embarrassed. She had heard him talk to his plants. Not even Steve had seen that. It was his private thing.

“She’s cute. What type of cactus is it?” She looked at it, not looking weirded out or anything.

“It’s called a Bishop’s cap. They grow to be very pretty and sprout a yellow flower. Not very popular in the shop, but there’s this new cactus crazy going on, and I thought to stock up.” Bucky explained, putting the cactus down next to the others.

“Do you name all your plants?” Bucky gulped and turned around to face her.

“Yeah, and talk to them too.” Bucky fought the urge to punch himself. Why would he say that? Fuck, now she is gonna think he is a fucking weirdo.

Much to his surprise, she smiled at him. She suddenly remembered the box she brought and opened it.

“For saving me yesterday, I made you a plum tart.” She opened it and pulled out the tart. Bucky felt his heart beating faster, and his hands get clammy.

“You didn’t have to.” “Ah! I beg to differ. Everyone that walked into our shop loved the flowers. They were really something. Like I couldn’t stop looking at them. So I had to show you my gratitude the only way I know how. With treats.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat that all alone. Want to share?” Bucky asked, giving her puppy eyes so she wouldn’t say no.

“You drive a hard bargain, Bucky. Has anyone ever told you can get away with murder with those eyes?” Y/N joked.

“I think my grandma’ probably said it. I have some silverware in the shop’s kitchen. When you have to be at your shop?” Bucky said, signaling her to follow him.

“I’m on break—perks of being the boss.” She explained while Bucky grabbed a few paper plates, forks, and a knife. She grabbed the knife and cut a big piece, and gave it to Bucky. Then she cut a piece for herself.

Bucky took a bite and accidentally let out a moan.

“I take it; you like it.” She winked at Bucky. He diverted his gaze from her. Why the fuck did I do that? Bucky screamed internally.

“It’s delicious. I can see why your shop has been packed since yesterday. Reminds me of my ma’s.” Bucky admitted.

“I’m glad, but I can’t take all the credit. You should see the coffee mixes Wanda came up with. They are the real star.” Bucky smiled at her. Nice and pretty… She let out a cough.

“How did you get really good with plants? Like sorry for the personal question, but you have a talent.” She inquired.

“Well, uhm. After getting discharged, my friend Sam suggested that I take classes to handle stress and PTSD. One of the classes was gardening, and I just found it so calming. So I started taking more courses and learning ‘till I decided to start my own business. I don’t think I could ever work anywhere else.” Bucky noticed her staring at him. “What?” He said, smiling awkwardly at her.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how you are the nicest man I’ve ever meet.” She said nonchalantly. Bucky chuckled.

“It’s nothing major. I just found my calling.” Bucky stated.

“I feel the same. I baked a lot in college, and then suddenly I was like fuck, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.” She recalled. Her eyes glowed under the light of the kitchen.

“I felt the same way when I started this shop.” Bucky admitted, she bit back a smile.

“By the way, I like the name—Howling’s flowers. Oh, and how pretty this store is, it looks like I walked in a magical forest.” She complimented.

“I- thanks. I named my store after my squad and the decor well; that’s kind of an embarrassing story.” Bucky chuckled nervously. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. I own a coffee shop named Magic café, and all of our items are named after magical things. I am the last person to judge.” Bucky bit his lip nervously while listening to her.

“I based it on The Hobbit. It was my favorite book when I was younger, and I just couldn’t imagine decoring this store anyway else.” Y/N looked at him with an open mouth.

“Okay, are you government android? Because you are friendly, great with plants and well-read. You are too good to be true.” She laughed. Bucky needs to find a way to blush less in her presence because this is like the fourth or fifth time it has happened.

They finished eating their pieces of tart and talking for a while. Y/N decided to go back to the shop, not realizing how much time she spent there. Before leaving, Bucky gave her some more lavender roses.

“Oh, Bucky, you don’t have to.” She protested.

“It’s just to add to the arrangement. I feel like it was missing a few more roses. You’ll be doing me a favor.” He assured. She grabbed the flowers and smelt them before smiling and giving him a small thanks.

Little did she know that lavender Roses mean love at first sight.

They played that little game for weeks, almost 2 months. Y/N would take her lunch break at Bucky’s shop. Feed him some food and pastries that she was experimenting with, and he would give her flowers.

“To put on the counter. Your store deserves fresh flowers every day.” Bucky claimed. But in actuality, all the flowers meant something. The white camellias? He was telling her that he admired her. The amaryllis? That he found you beautiful. The white and purple stocks? A silent plea for bonds of affection from your part. But he couldn’t bring himself to say these things out loud.

Speaking to Y/N in flowers was much easier. Maybe because she didn’t know and couldn’t reject him.

“Bucky, you gotta tell her, man.” Steve would try to reason with him. “She likes you; you like her. Just tell her that you like her or ask her out on a date.”

“You don’t get it, Steve.” Bucky would argue, which led to an entire discussion on how Bucky is being a coward that ended with him telling Steve and Sam to fuck off.

But they were right; it was simple. She has been an absolute doll with him. She doesn’t mind hearing his rants about the new book he read and helped him water his plants. She even bought waterproof labels to put their names on their planters. She even asked (more like demanded) Bucky to send her the pictures of every bouquet and arrangement he made. She loved seen his creations.

And he loved being her test subject. She would bring him new pastries to try. He was her official taste tester. Anything new in the store, Bucky had already tried it in every one of its variations. Y/N would speak to him of all of her special interests and all of her new hobbies. He had even met all her friends, and they loved him.

So why was this so difficult? Bucky groaned while arranging the flowers at the front of the shop.

“What’s got you all groaning and gloomy, Bucky-bear?” Y/N asked him. She looked radiant in her work clothes. Ugh, Bucky had it bad.

“Nothing, j-just thinking.” He nervously replied.

“Don’t overthink. You might over-heat your brain, bubs.” She joked, entering Bucky’s shop. And like the hopeless romantic he is, he followed.

“Soooooooo I have been trying out this new pasta recipe, and you are the only one I trust to give me the truth.” She said, opening the Tupperware she brought. Bucky’s heart fluttered at her words. He felt light-headed; maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth.

“I like you.” He blurted out. He slapped his hand over his mouth. Y/N turned to him, widen eyes, and mouth gaped.

“Bucky, do you mean that? Because if you are playing with me, I will fight you with this.” She warned Bucky, threatening with a spoon.

“I like you a lot. Actually love you. I- that’s what those flowers meant.” Bucky explained. Y/N put down the spoon.

“What flowers?” She asked, in the softest tone he has ever heard her speak in. Bucky turned his gaze to the floor, embarrassed that this was his confession.

“All of them. They all meant love in one form or the other.” He admitted. Y/N stood in front of him and put her hand on his cheek. He felt his heart do backflips.

“What flower means I’m in love with you, Bucky?” She asked, caressing his cheek.

“Maybe red carnations.” He joked, leaning into her touch.

“I’ll ask this handsome florist with a heart of gold to make me a bouquet to give you.” Bucky chuckled while she let out a little giggle.

“I would love a bouquet, but I would much rather have a plum tart from the sexy baker on the store out front.” Y/N hummed.

“I think I can make that happen.” She said, pulling him closer. “Can I kiss you, Bucky?” She asked; Bucky could only nod.

She grabbed his face and pressed her lips against his. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, molding her body against him. Their lips gliding over each other smoothly, as if they were made for each other.

They pulled away to take a breath, and they both had the same dopey smile. Tarts and carnations. Who knew they mixed so well?

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

[tsukishumai]

Do I make you nervous? - Atsumu, Tsukishima, Sakusa

a/n: inspired by a tik tok (surprise surprise) but I can’t find the link pls ): it’s been forever since I’ve done some HCs, hope u enjoy <3

Atsumu doesn’t know how he got roped into an all-out prank war with you.

It’s a heated debate every time the two of you try to trace back its origins.

You said it was when he dropped a lizard on your head during lunch in your first year, but Atsumu claims he only did that because you spilled glitter in his gym bag. Although you swore up and down that was an accident, you would mention that the ‘glitter’ mishap happened after he told your crush that you still wet the bed. (Atsumu smiles at that memory fondly)

“He never talked to me again after you did that,” you grumbled while arranging your books in your locker.

Atsumu laughed from his spot next to you, leaning against the wall with one shoulder, hands shoved in his pockets. “Yeah, that was kind of the point.”

You scoffed, smirking to yourself before slamming your locker shut and facing Atsumu. “There are other ways to get a girls attention, you know. Bullying girls stopped being cool after grade school.”

Atsumu sputtered out, “Well, yer not exactly the easiest girl to approach, are ya?”

“Why?” You asked, suddenly taking a step – closing the distance between you two, “Do I make you nervous?”

Atsumu gulped, trying to ignore the fact that he can suddenly smell your shampoo, “Are ya dumb? Of course not.”

“Oh?” You reach out, and place a palm on his chest, “Then why is your heart beating so fast?”

Atsumu stopped breathing, cursing the fact that he could feel his pulse all the way up to his ears, and trying not to melt under your intense gaze.

Suddenly, you gave him a smack on the chest, bursting out laugh, as you turned to walk away.

“Get a grip, Tsumu!”

Atsumu clenched his fist, staying rooted in his spot as he tried to regain his composure.

“I’ll get ya back for that,” he called out, and you simply waved a hand.

He doesn’t know how he got roped into this prank war with you, but he’ll never admit the countless nights he’s spent plotting on just how he could grab your attention next.

“Let’s get this over with,” Tsukishima grumbled, marching his way over to the library. You struggled to keep up with him, his long legs giving him a much wider stride than you.

“Come on, Tsukki –“ “Don’t call me that.”

You rolled your eyes at his prickly attitude. Tsukishima was the last person on earth you’d want to be partnered with for this project – the resident grumpy cat of your class who has never so much as smiled in your direction no matter how hard you tried — yet the gods of fate had other plans for you.

But you were never one to dwell on your misfortunes, so you resolved to make this as pleasant as you possibly could.

“Can’t we at least get our work done at the café?” You asked, finally falling into step with him, “The library is so boring… so quiet.”

Tsukishima just rolled his eyes at you. “That’s exactly why the library is better. Less pressure to...” But Tsukishima stopped himself.

Your ears perked up at his choice of words, seeking an opportunity to give him a hard time.

“Less pressure?” You asked, fighting the smirk trying to make its way onto your lips, “Pressure for what?”

Tsukishima ignored you as he kept walking forward, but you’ve already sunk your claws into his words.

“Come on, Tsukishima, why won’t you go to the café with me,” You pouted, cutting off his path by standing directly in front of him, “Do I make you nervous?”

The way Tsukishima froze in front of you makes you think you’ve struck a nerve, but that thought was cut off when he closed the distance between you, your chest practically pressed against his.

“Do I make YOU nervous?”

Your tongue felt so dry in your mouth, you nearly choked. You didn’t back down, but you could practically see yourself shrinking with every second you spent under his intense scrutiny.

Tsukishima scoffed, stepping around you to continue his trek to the library, leaving you with your mouth hung open, and heart beating a thousand times per minute.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Tsukishima called out, hoping desperately you didn’t notice the blush that crept onto his face.

It’s been a long time since Itachiyama has had a manager, so you made sure to fulfill your duties correctly.

You showed up before everybody else, your notes were immaculate; you always had things done before anyone could even think to ask for it.

It was almost like you were made to be a volleyball team manager (Not really, you just wanted your college apps to look good)

So as much as possible, you tried to stay out of the way of one of the top three aces in the country. You gave him his water bottles, handed him his towels, but you never really tried to look him in the eye.

You weren’t sure why – you got along with the rest of the team just fine, but when Sakusa entered the room, the atmosphere always changed drastically. He had an air of dignity and refinement about him that you were absolutely sure you would just taint if you tried to approach him.

You didn’t think he’d notice, but actually it was you who didn’t notice – the way his eyes always followed you around the room, how he seems to try to give you a smile, but you always looked down at your feet, or how he used to always bring his own water bottles to practice, yet stopped so he could use the one you hand to him.

He’s tried to brush his fingers with yours as you hand him a towel, but you’d always just scurry off to another corner, where you’d laugh at a joke his captain said, while he stood to the side and wondered why you were ignoring him.

It was when the team went out to celebrate winning the Tokyo Qualifier match, and you sat down next to his cousin and actively looked at anywhere but him that Sakusa decided he’s had enough.

“Do you hate me?” He cornered you after practice once, and you nearly dropped the volleyballs you were trying to collect into the cart.

“What?” you asked, shocked and confused at the Sakusa’s sudden inquiry, “Why… why would you think that?”

“You talk to everybody but me,” he commented, noting the way you fidgeted in your spot and clutched to the volleyballs in your arms, “Do I make you nervous?”

You bit your lip, and looked down at your feet. “Honestly… you kind of do.”

Sakusa nodded, mulling over your words before taking the yellow and blue mikasa ball from your hands. “Don’t be.”

You weren’t exactly sure how to respond when he dropped the balls into the cart, and walked out of the gym without another word

“Komori,” you whisper-yelled to the libero that was watching from the corner, “What the hell was that??”

Komori snickered, staring at the spot that used to be occupied by his cousin. “I… think that means he likes you?”

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima drabbles #tsukishima kei headcanon #tsukishima fluff #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu drabbles #atsumu drabble #atsumu fluff #atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu headcanons #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi drabbles #sakusa drabbles #sakusa headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq hc #haikyuu!! headcanons

[tinyyoungblood]

don’t be shy,

post sum of those drafts

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

a/n: you asked and you shall receive. here are very random scraps that i pieced together and somehow it worked lol enjoy x

            ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the avengers on long bus rides

long bus rides are the only times where the world is balanced and at peace (forced smile from steve)

it’s also the only times when everyone will chime in on those sea shanties that steve loves so much, so that’s a plus

the team knows that their captain is a sea shanty WHORE so they always go all out for him and do harmonies and quite impressive choreos

once they’ve run out of sea shanties, they switch to musicals and it’s kind of like football jocks meet theatre kids

everyone has their troy bolten moment at some point, but it’s loki who really shines

he gets really passionate and ends up singing all parts and no one can blame him because mans got the voice of an angel and he knows it

nat is super supportive and cheers him on while recording everything. no one questions why she has a folder on her phone that is called “blackmail material”

tony likes to show his support by throwing money at loki

the others reenact that scene from harry potter where harry tries to catch hogwarts letters falling from the ceiling although there are loads of them perfectly lying on the floor

they fight tooth and nail to catch the money with a ferocity that puts the gods in shame

peter shoots his webs to pin the dollar bills to the wall like he suddenly got a lifelong supply of them and clint acts like his arrows are made of harmless rubber

rhodey joins in, puts on his suit, and almost blasts happy ✨to death✨while trying to catch a one-dollar bill

happy swerve the bus off a cliff and someone screams

(it was loki)

wanda has to save them and proceeds to bench them all for an hour

bucky, friend to no vehicles, is grumpy the entire time but y/n has made it her temporary calling to cheer him up

“i don’t like vehicles and this is why” *y/n whips out a duffel bag and slaps it* “yea, well, but what are your thoughts on sudokus”

bucky curls up in the back like the senior citizen that he is, sandwiched between y/n and bruce with a lifelong supply of sudokus scattered around him

they quietly help each other out and it’s very wholesome

tony and peter can fall asleep anywhere on the bus with their necks and limbs turned at all kinds of unnatural angles and sam winces before tearing his eyes from them

he makes a mental note to buy them neck pillows

nat suggests playing ‘i spy’ because it seems less lethal than the yellow car game but clint, sam, and thor get way too enthusiastic about it

they have their faces pressed against the window, eyes wide and unblinking, unaware that they’re frightening half of the people sitting in the passing cars

at some point, they lose all sense and just randomly name everything

“i spy with my little eye something that is red” “that car” “no” “that car” “no” “clint’s sweater” “it’s not—” “bucky’s pen, the flowERS, MY SHOES, THE SKY”

rhodey and nat are surprisingly good at that game and their calm demeanour drives the others insane

“fine. i spy with my stupid little eye something that is amber—” “bottom left button on the inside of loki’s overcoat, try again”

wanda and vision are in charge of lunch and handing out lunch boxes to everyone is a delight to them and a very. scary experience for the rest of the team

“here you go, buck. a turkey sandwich with cut off crust and extra tomatoes” “oh you didn’t have to cut off—” “😠but you like it. don’t you😠” “...yes”

peter and y/n are sharing a seat and y/n shows him her online purchases on her phone. peter is really sweet the entire time and comments on everything with genuine interest until rhodey pipes up from behind them

“you ordered new shoes? y/n, you don’t even go outside enough to justify wearing shoes”

they shush him and proceed to share headphones to listen to peter’s current favourite songs

at some point, tony announces, “alright ladies and gentlegerms, cap is making us stop the bus so we can get out and go for a two-mile jog through the woods *unenthusiastic jazz hands* if anyone wants to fling us off a cliff again, now is the time, i repeat—”

they still end up running and it’s insufferable. it’s hot and musty and just ~unpleasant~

somehow the avengers have evolved into a chaotic Debate Team and now they’re discussing who gets to be carried by thor and bucky

at an intersection, the two of them stop to catch their breath and they’re both just staring at each other, sweaty and covered in avengers hanging off their limbs

thor, prying loki off his back: “i’m sorry but we’re gonna have to do something different here”

y/n is hopping off bucky’s back when there’s suddenly a loud, ugly sound reverberating through the forest, followed by many footsteps that seem to come closer by the second

they run

branches keep tearing at their skin as they bolt through the woods but they’re not stopping because it’s clear what is happening right now

they’re being chased by wild boars

at this point they’re just embracing death and if they survive it’s a bonus

a boar comes running towards bucky and wanda but bucky “i have been falling for 90 years and i’m sick of it” barnes stares it straight in the eye, daring it to knock them over and the boar just squirms and make a u-turn

another wild boar seems to have decided that clint is not part of the herd because it sends clint FLYING in a quite impressive and beautiful arc

steve tries to ditch clint and train the boar

clint wasn’t hurt by the fall, but he stares at steve as if he might as well have broken a rib

they’re back on the bus and happy cocks a brow when he sees that everyone is exhausted and covered in dirt. he chooses to say nothing when nat climbs in with loki half-leaning on her for support and glaring broodily at the floor

everyone just wants to sleep and forget that the avengers were almost defeated by boars but bruce and sam keep bickering in the front row

“it’s too bright in here” “it’s the sun” “the lights get too noisy” “…what” “make it stop” “what do you want me to do?? turn off the sun???”

peter and y/n are huddled in a seat again, sharing headphones to drone out the noise and the moment he hits play, y/n looks at him blankly

peter, shrugging: “what? my 7 songs still go hard”

* * *

what are your seven songs that still go hard? pls tell me bc i desperately need new music <3 stay hydrated pals

hc masterlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x avenger!reader #avengers crack #avengers x reader #avengers headcanon #peter parker headcanon #peter parker fluff #avengers #peter parker #steve rogers headcanon #tony stark headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon #sam wilson headcanon #thor headcanon #loki headcanon #mcu #mcu x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #avenger!reader

[atsukashii]

heyyyyy im miley :) can you please do

MILEY X KUROO + SHE/HER + ☀️ + BLACK

thank you! i hope you have a nice day

( i loved the other kuroo one you did. it was so cute ^-^)

looking only directly at you so you don't go away

✘ you're absolutely the kind of person who loves spontaneous adventures, even more when your boyfriend is by your side. But when it comes knocking at 1am - you love them a whole lot less.

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: none

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.4k

When you had heard your phone vibrating next to your bed when the sky was still dark out, you had not expected to see twenty six missed texts from your boyfriend. Expecting the worst, you immediately sit up in bed with a thundering heart, unlocking the screen.

[1:33am] FROM: KUROO Sleeping beauty, wake up please

[1:33am] FROM: KUROO Seriously, we’ve got places to be gorgeous

[1:34am] FROM: KUROO I’m about to start tossing rocks at your window.

A small thunk noise echoes through your room, and your head whips towards the window. You wait a moment, brows furrowed in somewhat confusion and disbelief. Surely he isn’t… Only a few seconds later there’s another noise and you slip from your warm bed and move to the window, yanking it open and glaring at the person outside.

“I know that romance movies make being woken up by your hot boyfriend in the middle of the night as super romantic, but I can tell you right now; it’s not.” You whisper in a hiss, leaning your forearms on your windowsill.

“Maybe it’s romantic for me,” Kuroo’s hazel eyes flash in the dimmed lighting coming from the lamps on the street. His teasing grin has butterflies fluttering gently in your stomach, and as much as you think that the gesture is adorable coming from him. “And you think I'm hot?” That smile also makes you want to throttle him.

“You’re standing in Mr Sato’s vegetable garden.” You point out, only smiling once Kuroo looks down at his feet, muttering a brief curse under his breath, knowing full well just how protective your elderly downstairs neighbour is of his garden.

“Well if you hurry up and climb out your window to join me on our adventure, I can stop standing on carrots.” He replies back, wagging his brows at you in encouragement. The thought of climbing out your window and dropping a storey to the ground makes you laugh and instead you grip the window and shoot your boyfriend a look.

“I’ll take the stairs thanks.” Is all you say before closing the window and locking it. Not giving Kuroo a second glance, you quickly scurry around the room, changing into some jeans, grabbing a thick jacket. Quietly sneaking down the internal staircase of your complex, you almost run out of the entrance to not wake up your neighbours. It’s not until you see Kuroo leaning up against the fence of your building do you finally relax.

“I hate you.” You sigh, breathing into your hands, trying to bring heat into them, but the October chill has them getting colder by the second.

“You love me.” Kuroo corrects, reaching out and grabbing one of your hands, entwining his fingers with yours before shoving them both into his jacket pocket. The gesture makes you smile, and he sees it before you can try to hide it and smirks at you, but you honestly don’t care.

“Alright Casanova, pray tell, why the hell are you dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night?” You finally ask, following your boyfriend to god knows where as he starts you both down the footpath.

“Can’t tell you, it’s a secret.” He shoots you a wink with his reply, causing you to roll your eyes. Whoever once said if you roll your eyes too much they’ll fall out of your head was a liar, considering it was a constant gesture of love between you both, and your face was still intact. It’s only after walking in comfortable silence down the main street of your town, smothering a yawn in your shoulder that you finally recognise where you're going. Your idea is cemented when Kuroo rocks to a stop outside the train station.

“I didn’t bring my wallet.” You realise, cursing at your stupidity.

“I know, don’t worry sweetheart.” Shaking his wallet in the sky for good measure, you both get into the station and board an awaiting train, the whole time, you give up trying to figure out where you’re going as sleep once again tugs at your consciousness.

When you finally sit down on the cushioned bench seats, you immediately lean your weight into your boyfriend.

“Was I supposed to bring clothes?” You ask, slightly concerned to be unprepared for something like this. Although, since dating Kuroo, doing sporadic spontaneous things such as this became a common occurrence, but you always had a somewhat plan on where you were going. This was the first time you’d been left out of the loop until the last minute.

“Nope.” He responds with a smile as you lay your head on his shoulder. You eye his backpack sitting on his lap that you hadn’t noticed before, and he gently flicks your cheek.

“Stop stressing about it and just sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.” He whispers, pressing his face to the top of your head and kissing your crown.

“Okay,” you get out before closing your eyes and letting Kuroo’s warmth bleed into you, keeping out the cold and helping sleep tug at your subconscious.

You’re not sure how long you sleep for, as when your boyfriend finally shakes you awake, it’s still dark out. Blindly, you take the backpack that Kuroo offers you before slipping it onto your shoulders.

“Up you go,” Kuroo says, his back facing you and a grin tossed over his shoulder.

You have absolutely no idea where you are either. As you walk through a small coastal town, your head resting on his shoulder, all you can make out is weathered old styled homes and storefronts, with stone streets and the smell of salt in the air.

If you weren’t half asleep, you might have picked it up earlier, but it takes you literally staring at the beach to realise Kuroo has brought you to the ocean. With furrowed brows, you get off your boyfriend’s back and step around him, letting the gentle ocean breeze hit you at full force. Why had he done this? You loved the ocean, and the fact that you didn’t live near it was a downer, but you had both made time to holiday to any beachfront town you could find when you had time. So why now?

He must see the question in your gaze, because Kuroo simply grabs your hand and pulls you onto the sand. “Come on,” he smiles, and you’re so confused, shocked and overwhelmed that you just follow him onto the beach. Dragging you down towards the shoreline, he suddenly sits on the sand and reaches up, gripping your hips and bringing you down with him.

“Kuroo-”

“Wait, just watch.” His voice gently brushes against your ear as you both stare at the ocean. His chest flush against your back, with his arms comfortably wrapped around your stomach, keeping you close and warm, you both sit in silence waiting for what you're not sure.

But then you see it. At first it's an odd light that you think as a trick of your eyes, but then as seconds slip by and dark blue sky bleeds to orange and yellows do you inhale sharply. You want to glance at the time, but you already know it's morning, and you’re witnessing the sunrise. Something throbs gently in your chest, as if someone is tugging on a rib, and you lean back into your boyfriend for support. Kuroo squeezes you for a moment before withdrawing an arm to fiddle with his backpack. Your eyes don’t move from the light show in front of you until you feel both of Kuroo’s arms back around your stomach.

“I’ll be the first person you see every time.” He whispers the words he’d said when you were just kids, and you finally look down to his hands to see a small cupcake. Your heart lurches into your throat as you take in the single candle and although it's unlit, the sentiment doesn’t go past you. Turning your head slightly, so overwhelmed that you can’t stop the stray tear from slipping by. There’s so much love radiating between you both and you press your hand to his chest, not knowing how to say just how happy he makes you. Not knowing how to emphasise how much you love him, and there will never be a way to properly articulate it either. But Kuroo knows, because he nods, his own eyes blinking rapidly as they well, then places a chaste kiss on your lips. One that has enough love in the small action alone, you feel it in the depths of your bones and soul.

“Happy birthday gorgeous.”

a/n: i'm living for these hq asks tbh! and even tho this is a self ship post, i still want kuroo to do this with me pls

✘ EVENT STATUS : CLOSED  ✘

#special event 🧚‍♀️✨ #lols writes #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu kuroo tetsuro

[snail-watch]

Haha I made a new AU.. Send help

Ok ok so like, this au is called the Stardrop AU bcuz Luz is like a lil' fallen star in this au and brrrrr

Ok ok onto explaing the AU!!

____

Luz is a light spirit, and somewhat like a minor goddess. She takes care of the stars in the sky and can create light. She mainly comes out at night, but she can show herself in the daytime if she chooses to. She's usually seen as a glowing figure, the embodiment of pure light. She can also appear human as well, though she does so less often.

Amity is a normal human girl, and lives in a manor close to the woods with her parents and siblings. She ends up meeting Luz after she gets lost in said woods. The young goddess was curious, and ended up accidentally being seen by Amity. After an initial fright Amity let's Luz help her find her way home.

Amity didn't go back into the woods for a few days, maybe even a few weeks. Right after she got home she texted her friends(Willow and Gus) like 'GUYS HOLY S-'

After the shock had worn off and she was able to semi wrap her head around the fact she met someone made completely of light(though somehow physical), she ended up heading back into the woods and found Luz again. The two of them ended up becoming friends and decided to meet with each other as often as they could.

I like the idea that Luz originally didn't have a name for herself, so Amity helped her come up with a name! Amity thought the name Luz was fitting so it just stuck(Amity's also a language nerd so of course she knows luz means light in spanish; she silently cackles at that cuz it's funny)

The first time Amity saw Luz in her human form was a few weeks after they became friends. It was midday and Luz wanted to say hi, so she transformed into her human form and came to Amity's house.

Luckily Amity was the one to answer, becuase Luz has very bright illuminating yellow eyes and unusual golden freckles in her human form. Amity rushes the goddess upstairs and puts concealer on her to hide the freckles and gives her some spare brown-eyed contacts from a cosplay Amity never ended up using. Amity let Luz keep the concealer and contacts so she could come over whenever she wanted.

At some point Amity introduces Luz to Willow and Gus, and it's just endless chaos, but the good kinda chaos,, Gus and Luz are bouncing questions off each other at lightning speed n like,, Willow is staring at Amity like 'Ohmygod I thought you were jokingggg'

In this AU Camila is the goddess of the moon and healing, she's Luz's mom(obviously). Eda is the goddess of mischief and strength, she's like another mother figure to Luz. King is a minor god of loyalty, he looks relatively the same in this AU.

Before Amity gave Luz a nickname, Camila and Eda referred to Luz as 'Little Light' and 'Star Drop' or something along those lines. In this AU gods usually only refer to each other as their titles, or nicknames if they are close.

Luz constantly talks about her new friends and stuff to Eda and Camila, and they're both just really happy that their daughter is happy

Imma cut my info dumping off right here, but I'll totally post more ideas soon!

____

There we gooooo! I totally plan to write a fic about this AU at,,, Some point! I keep coming up with AUs I need to stop. But like,, AUs are amazing shfhfh hdgwsk

BUT YES! If you have any questions or ideas for this AU, pls don't hesitate to send me an ask! I'm always all ears!!

#stardrop au #toh #the owl house #toh au #the owl house au #art #ref #design #digitalart #digital #doodle #drawing #digital art #character #au #luz #luz noceda #gods #godess #minor goddess #amity blight #willow park #gus porter #edalyn clawthorne #camila noceda

[basilhearsanoise]

Guardian Angels - Chapter 1

A Memory Formed, Then All but Wiped Away

Dean Winchester was born on a cold January morning in 1979, when the sun had not yet risen. He wouldn’t hear his name for a few years after that, though. You see, when Mary, Dean’s mother, found out she was pregnant, her husband John said, “We should name the kid after your folks. Always talk about how you miss ‘em. Be a good way to keep ‘em alive,” and Mary liked that idea very much.

So when the doctors told them they were going to have a baby girl - because doctors like to play god in these situations almost as much as God does - Mary knew that she would name the child after her mother. Deanna was a beautiful name, after all. It was only a few hours after they got home from that visit, however, that their two sons burst in from over 30 years in the future, and brought the preamble to the apocalypse with them. One of whom, they’ve seen before - as a hunter on a case, as a car enthusiast. As a man. Who says to her, “It’s kind of hard to believe. I’m your son.”

Mary doesn’t get to remember her son’s face for very long, because angels are meddlesome creatures and time travel doesn’t usually rest easy on the human psyche. But she finds herself thinking of the strange hunter who was there that night with the yellow-eyed demon. He’d really been trouble, but he’d tried so hard to help. Her memory of him became more sentimental, somehow, without her even really noticing the change. She wonders if that hunter was some kind of spirit, a ghost sent to warn her about that night. The night she tries to not ever think about, but yet, always comes crawling back to the front of her mind. It all seems to have so much - so much meaning, something more that she can’t quite put her finger on. Suddenly, she feels a cosmic presence in her life, and she knows, deep down, it’s because of her baby.

“I’m tellin’ you, this kid is gonna be somebody,” she says to John as she dotes over their newborn. “Isn’t that right?” She coos. “That’s right! You’ve got angels watching over you!”

—

“No. Dean,” Dean corrects his mother, chocolate melting in his tiny three-year-old hands. It’s all over his face. Some of it’s in his hair, too, like tar stuck to a bail of hay. His voice is garbled, a toddler unable to properly enunciate to save his life, but still, alarmingly clear and concise.

Mary, exhausted, at her wit’s end, holds the dress out to him for the millionth time. “Deanna, pl—“

“No!” Dean is more hurt, now, and the tantrum is well on its way. “I won’t! I don’ like it!” The rest is mostly unintelligible screaming. Smearing his chocolate all over the dress, he turns and runs, crying.

John tries to pick him up and cradle him but he kicks and yells and punches. They have to have a talk about violence after that, that it’s not nice to hit and scream. It’s the first and last conversation on the topic Dean will ever get from his parents.

Not long after that, the preschool calls, says Dean has “caused a scene in class.” They tried to separate the boys and girls for a game, and he went with the boys. When they tried to stop him, he threw a fit and had to be excused for the rest of the day. And then the next day, and the next, and the next.

Mary and John are at a loss. Their son is insisting he is their son, but like any parent, they are having trouble believing it. Mary thinks about the hunter from that night more and more now. What did he say his name was again? There was something so familiar about all of this, almost like Mary was back on an old hunting case. But no, she gave that up…she couldn’t call any of her contacts and see if they know anything about her kid…could she?

…Ring, ring.

“Hello Mary,” Missouri answers, the grin already apparent in her voice.

No matter how many times she did that, it always freaked Mary out, just a little. But at least you knew she was the real deal as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Hi Missouri, it’s good to speak to you.”

“Mm. I don’t think it is. At least, the subject matter doesn’t seem like it will be good.” Missouri twiddles the phone cable around her finger. “John’s not going to like it. You’ll warm up to it though. I’ll be over soon.”

Click.

Laughing, but mostly out of shock, Mary puts down the receiver. After all this time, you’d think she’d stop being surprised by how good Missouri is. But that level of psychic ability is uncanny enough to throw anyone through a loop. Better make sure John would be gone that afternoon. She was not ready to explain this to him.

When Missouri walks in, she throws her arms around Mary warmly. “Now,” she asks, looking around. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you Mary, I haven’t even met your boy. Go and fetch him, I want to meet him before we get down to whatever nasty business you called about.”

Mary pulls the sides of her mouth back in a gesture that could only be interpreted as: yikes.

“Missouri, I…I don’t quite know how to say this, but our…” The words feel strange in her mouth, but what’s really strange is that…she thought they’d feel stranger. “….my son…is what I called about.”

Missouri raises an eyebrow.

“Is there something wrong with him? I haven’t sensed any evil presences in the house.”

Mary still doesn’t quite know what to say, stutters a little.

Perplexed, but intrigued, Missouri says, “Well go and get him. I’ll see for myself.”

With a shrug, Mary goes to the kitchen. “Honey…put down your toys, Mommy wants you to meet a friend.”

Dean waddles into the living room, still clutching his favorite toy car. He clings to his mother’s skirt, but waves at Missouri, who looks him up and down from his dirty shoes to the top of his baggy overalls.

“What have you got there?” She asks.

“Vroom!” Dean answers, showing her how the car shoots forward when you wind the wheels back on the floor.

Missouri laughs heartily in agreement. “Yes, sweetheart. What a lovely toy. It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

His little eyes shimmer up at her, his face slowly peeling into a wide, wide grin. He giggles and keeps playing with his car.

Mary stares at Missouri in disbelief, opens her mouth to speak, but can’t find words. She slowly sits down on the couch. Dean follows his car back into the kitchen and can be heard vrooming about the house. For a moment that’s all the noise there is, until Mary can finally gather herself enough to say, “Missouri, I…I don’t understand.”

Missouri walks over and sits next to her, gently takes her hand. “Mary, you know that there are things in this world that are not easy to understand at first, but that doesn’t make them any less real.”

“Well, yes,” Mary replies, flustered, afraid. “Ghosts, ghouls…but you’re not saying he’s a monster, are you?”

Missouri’s expression darkens a little. “The world will surely tell you he is one. But nothing could be further from the truth. People like Dean have always existed, just like people like me have always existed. It’s perfectly natural. Most people just don’t believe we’re real.”

Mary is still completely at a loss. Missouri squeezes her hand. “Your son is transgender, Mary,” she continues gently. “I can see into his soul and see that he’s a little boy, just like any other, except he’s in a world that can’t see him the way I can.”

It’s as if someone took a needle and jabbed it into Mary’s brain. Flashes of Dean’s adult face begin to swim through her mind.

“I’m your son.”

Could these memories be real or was she going mad? It was all so overwhelming. She throws her arms around Missouri and begins to sob. Missouri can sense that something in her mind has opened up, that had been locked tight, and it unnerves her to think what could have turned the key. She holds her dear friend close until she can recover enough to catch her breath.

“What do I do?” Mary whimpers, looking towards the kitchen, towards Dean.

“You love him,” Missouri replies. “You respect him.”

“H-…how?”

“Well…” Missouri tries her best to be matter-of-fact. “First you have to talk to John and get him on board.” Mary’s eyes roll a little. Getting John to change his mind about anything was going to be a hassle. “Then…you call the school. Tell them to call him by the right name. Tell your friends to call him by the right name…not much else to it, darling.”

“But…what happens when…he grows up? How will…”

“I have some friends who might be able to help you,” Missouri says warmly. “But you can cross that bridge when you come to it. It’s all about doing what’s necessary now, and simply listening is the most important thing when children are young. Follow his lead, honey. He knows what he needs.”

Dean runs into the living room again. “Mommy, sammich?” He beams.

Mary can’t help but laugh as she wipes away her tears. Dean notices and instantly hugs her knees. “Don’t cry, mommy,” he pleads. “I love you.”

“I love you too…Dean,” Mary shakily replies, rustling his hair the way she always does.

Dean looks up, his face somehow happier than before. He reaches up to her in the way all toddlers do when they want to be held, and she scoops him up into her arms. Missouri smiles at the sight.

“You want a sandwich?” Mary asks her, still processing, but trying to inject some humor into the situation now.

“That sounds lovely,” Missouri answers. “I think I’ll have mine with the crusts cut off, too. That’s your favorite, isn’t it, Dean?”

“Yes!” Dean gurgles happily as Mary places him at the kitchen table.

“Alright, three sandwiches, hold the crust, comin’ right up,” Mary laughs. Later, she knew things were going to get messy. But for now, they could all sit down and enjoy a nice snack.

#i'm in the process of getting an ao3 account idk how that shit works #i've basically never written fanfiction before but this story has been 10 years coming #so like. here we go #supernatural #dean winchester #spn #hellers #trans dean #trans dean winchester #guardian angels #fanfic #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #ao3 #me #my stuff #writing #prose #trans #transgender #queer #queer writers #trans bi bastard time

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (4/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,057

Summary: Jamie  just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian  Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught  up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

IV:

—

“I owe you a favour?” Rebecca said, and her voice sounded amused. “Is that how we’re remembering it?”

“Yup. After that fiasco you put me through in that club on Nar Shaddaa.”

The sound of an incredulous huff of laughter came through the cracked speakers of the transceiver in a staticky burst. “What is it this time?”

“Nothing special,” said Jamie. “In fact, it’s even a little boring.”

“You? Boring?” 

“I like boring.”

“Pull the other one.”

“More boring than last time, then.” 

“Last time you had me move three hundred freed Twi’lek slaves from Hutt space and back to their home planets.”

“And they’ve been singing your praises ever since. I know that for a fact, because one family sent me a holo-card which showed that party you went to where they made you godmother of their newborn child.” 

“Oh! That reminds me,” Rebecca said, sounding suddenly excited. “Do you want to see the latest pictures of the kid? He’s four and adorable.” 

“That had better be a rhetorical question,” Jamie drawled.

“So, that’s a no?”

“Shut up and send me the pictures to my personal transceiver when I see you.” 

Rebecca’s laugh was infectious. Always had been. A smile pulled at the corner of Jamie’s mouth in spite of herself. The Jawas had crowded off to the other end of the tiny room, talking amongst themselves while Jamie used their transceiver. On the other hand Dani drifted closer, hovering just out of range of the transceiver’s camera, which — along with the microphone and speakers — seemed to be the only thing about it that actually functioned properly. 

“It’s been too long,” Rebecca was saying. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

“So, you’ll do me the favour?” 

“You know I hate moving people,” Rebecca sighed. “Pressurising the cargo hold is so expensive.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“Always is with you.”

"It's not like that."

"Sure it isn't." Rebecca said, then groaned. "Why can't you ever ask me to run something normal? Like food? Or weapons?"

"I asked you to run those emergency rations to Taris that one time."

"The planet was being blockaded by the Empire!"

"And you snuck through like a ghost," Jamie said. "I've never seen anything like it in all my years."

"Flatterer."

"Fuckin' right I am. Is it working?"

A sigh down the other line. "All right. How many people is it this time?"

Jamie opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak Dani came into frame and sat beside Jamie with a wave towards the camera.

"Hi," she said with as much false cheer as she could muster. "Just me. Dani Clayton. Nice to meet you."

Silence on the other end. Jamie really wished this piece of crap transceiver had a working screen of its own so she could gauge Rebecca's reaction. As it was: the silence didn't seem like a good start.

“I see,” Rebecca said slowly. “Jamie, you always did have a soft spot for a pretty face.”

Heat flushed all the way up to Jamie’s hairline. “That’s not -!” she said, then turned to Dani and insisted, “It’s not.”

Dani did not answer. Her own cheeks were pink and she was studiously avoiding Jamie’s gaze, watching the broken monitor instead where Rebecca’s face should have been displayed. 

Rebecca — damn her — was the one who spoke next. "And where are you from, Dani?"

"Alderaan," Dani said at the same time Jamie hissed, "Don't answer that."

Dani shot Jamie a puzzled look and lowered her voice, “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are, but -” 

“No whispering,” said Rebecca through the crackling speakers in a sing-song voice. “If you’re talking about me, at least let me hear the juicy gossip.”

Rather than continue down that vein, Jamie corrected course. “We need to get to Tython. We’re on a transport through the Hydian Way to Coruscant, but we’ve got some undesirables on our tail. Think you can help?”

Rebecca gave a thoughtful hum. “You know I’m not a Core World girl. Not my speciality.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate.” 

“Next time,” Rebecca said in a dry tone, “just call me for drinks and a laugh.” 

“First round’s on me,” Jamie promised with a grin. 

The sound of tapping down the line and a series of beeps as Rebecca did something with her ship’s computer. “I’m picking up your signal from hyperspace just past Bandomeer. I won’t be able to meet up with your transport until you come out of hyperspace for a stop over at Corsin tomorrow afternoon. Think you can survive that long?” 

Leaning back, Jamie exhaled a long relieved breath, her shoulders slumping. “It’ll have to do. Thanks, Becs. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.”

And just like that, the call ended. No fanfare. No goodbyes. That’s how it always was with her — touch and go. Probably why the two of them got along so well, Jamie thought. Not many people could go without exchanging a single word for four years and then pick up where they’d left off as if no time had passed at all. 

Jamie pushed the transceiver away. Dani was watching her with a curious tilt of her head so that a lock of her hair was curled along the column of her neck in a way that made Jamie want to reach out and card her fingers through her hair. 

“She seems nice,” Dani said.

“It’s complicated.”

Understanding lit up in Dani’s mismatched eyes. “Ah.” 

“Not like that,” Jamie said quickly. “We never - I just meant that she’s complicated. For a smuggler like Rebecca, trust is its own currency. And now I owe her a very big favour.” 

Dani nodded but didn’t comment further. She had turned her attention back to the huddle of Jawas, listening to them quibble and murmur together. “As much as I like them,” she said, “I don’t think we can hide here for a full day without imposing.”

That and Jamie could not imagine trying to sleep in a pile with a bunch of Jawas. She made a face at the very thought. It was cramped with two people in one of these rooms. Let alone eleven. Even if the other nine were less than a meter in height and smelled of damp womprat. 

“Please tell me the alternative doesn’t involve the garbage chute,” Dani said. 

 --

The alternative only partially involved the garbage chute. And even then, they only had to use it once to ferry their way up to the mid decks when their transport dropped out of hyperspace and docked at Corsin. Jamie kept checking over her shoulder for sign of the Jedi and the Troopers as she and Dani snuck off the transport with a crowd of others. She did not relax even as they stepped free of the transport and into the hangar bays of Corsin.

The arched transparisteel ceiling was a void of star-speckled ink viewing out into space, and far below the planet was a marble of blue oceans and green islands, white tufts of cloud drifting across its surface. 

“It looks beautiful,” said Dani, pausing to wistfully admire the planet below. 

“It looks unaffordable,” Jamie replied, not sparing it a glance and instead standing up on her toes, craning her neck to get a better look around the hangar. 

“Reminds me of Alderaan.” 

It was said almost softly enough that Jamie couldn’t hear it. Jamie stopped her search and turned back to Dani, who was still staring longingly out the windows. Hesitating for a second, Jamie curled her fingers around Dani’s hand. Startled, Dani blinked at her.

Jamie offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “C’mon,” she said, and gave Dani’s hand a tug. 

Dani did not pull her hand away as Jamie pulled her along further into the hangar in search of their ticket out of this mess. She linked their fingers together and held on tight, her hand cold; Dani was always cold. Jamie needed to think about buying her a set of thermals. 

Pushing through the crowd, they made their way from various bay to various bay. Other passengers who knew their destinations went straight to the cruiser that would ferry them down to the planet below. Most of them wore enough Ottegan silk to last Jamie a year if she sold it on the black market, no questions asked. This was not a planet for people like them, and a few security droids around the place had started to take notice of that fact. Jamie was constructing an elaborate lie in her head about how they were janitorial staff, when she finally saw her. 

Rebecca was standing before a side bay with her hand resting easily on the holster of her blaster pistol. She looked just as Jamie remembered. All in smart and durable beige and black, the cut of her clothes fashionable in a rakish sort of way but unafraid of hard labour. Her dark hair was longer and was bound in a long plait over one shoulder. And her dark skin was slightly darker, too — she must have been visiting a sunny planet lately. Letting go of Dani’s hand and striding forward with a broad smile, Jamie caught her in a fierce warm hug.

“God, but it’s good to see you again,” Jamie said. 

Only one of Rebecca’s hands came up to rest against Jamie’s back to return the hug. When she pulled back slightly her smile had an oddly sad slant, and she murmured, “I really am sorry for this, Jamie.” 

Jamie blinked, her face falling. “What -?” 

Before she could move, Rebecca’s other hand came up and pressed something to Jamie’s flank. A flash of something like fire rippled through Jamie’s body, and then she slumped forwards into Rebecca’s arms, the world spinning and going dark. 

 --

When Jamie came to, she had a splitting headache and her side felt like it had been kicked by a very large very angry animal. She winced and slowly sat up with a groan. Blinking muzzily, she took inventory of her surroundings. Just a small room sheathed in dark metal panels from floor to ceiling, complete with the only door blocked by yellow plasma beam bars, and a Czerka logo stamped into one of the panels on the hallway outside. 

And worst of all: no Dani in sight.

Great. Alone in the brig of a Czerka ship. And given her shit luck, Jamie had an inkling of exactly whose ship this belonged to as well. 

“Fuck,” she said, lingering emphatically over every aspect of the word. 

She had been placed along a bench in the cell, and now she dragged her sorry carcass into the corner so that she could prop her legs atop the bench and lean her head back against the wall. When the world finally stopped trying to tilt with every sluggish beat of her heart, Jamie patted herself down. 

No mining laser, of course. That would’ve been the first thing they stripped off of her. No credit chits in her pocket. No multitools that she always kept on her person in case she ever needed to disassemble some machinery at work. The dogtags were still around her neck at least. At least if she died, whoever found her would be able to identify her body and return it to Tython or wherever the fuck nobodies like her in The Order went after death. Small miracles. 

Nothing for it, then. She staggered upright and went to use the loo. When she’d finished, she returned to her place on the bench and thought about how fucked she was. 

She’d been in plenty of bad scrapes in her time, but this was taking the coveted position of ‘Worst Hole Ever Dug by Jamie Taylor — May the Force Be With Her.’

A door opened in the near distance, then another, followed by quick footsteps. Jamie frowned at the hallway, waiting for some Czerka pillock to come take her away and shove her out an airlock. Instead Rebecca came into swift view.

"Here," she said, sliding Jamie's handheld mining laser along the floor through the bars, then began trying to pry a section of the wall away from the hallway in order to reveal a nest of wires leading to the control panel. "I've disabled the alarms and cameras for the brig, but we don't have much time. There's a cruiser docked in bay three. It has a hyperdrive and enough rations to get you to wherever you need to go. The Czerka fleet won't fire upon it so long as you're quick and you don't let them figure out it's you."

Jamie did not move. Teeth clenched, she crossed her arms and glowered at the opposite wall. 

"Jamie -"

"Nope," Jamie said, jaw taut, refusing to even look in her direction.

"Listen to me," Rebecca gave up on hacking the control panel. She tried to move into Jamie's line of sight but Jamie kept turning her head aside. "There is more to this than what it appears. I know about the infiltration of House Thul. I know about the -"

"I don't care about what you know,” Jamie cut her off.  "If you think I'll listen to another word out of your mouth, then you've got another thing coming."

"I'm trying to make sure I can get you out of here alive, you thick-headed Rim-Rat!" Rebecca snapped.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

With a bitter laugh, Rebecca leaned against the frame of the cell, careful to not touch the plasma beam bars. “That’s rich, knowing your history. I’ve never met a person who gets into more trouble than you.”

Jamie put on her best sneer and asked, "What's Quint got over you this time, then? Eh?"

Rebecca shook her head and looked away with an incredulous noise, hands on her hips. "It's not like that."

"Like hell it's not," Jamie growled. "All that time you spent outwitting the Empire, and now this? He is Imperial through and through."

"I know exactly what Peter is."

"Yeah. A piece of shit, who'd sell his mother if it means saving his own sorry hide." 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rebecca said and her voice was low. She darted her eyes down the hall, as if watching for any potential eavesdroppers. “And you are in far deeper shit than you could possibly understand. That woman you’re with -”

Sitting up straighter, Jamie swung her legs over the side of the bench and onto the ground, suddenly alert. “Where is she?” 

Rebecca fixed her with a serious expression. Rather than answer, she said, “She’s dangerous.” 

“She’s scared,” Jamie corrected. 

“Which is quite possibly the worst thing for her to be.”

Rising to her feet, Jamie glowered through the plasma bars. Her voice was pure venom. “If you had just helped me get her to Tython, then I could’ve gotten her proper training.”

“The Order won’t take her.”

Jamie had to stop herself from striking out at the bars, even knowing they would give her burns all across her skin. “You know fuck all about The Order!” she snarled, pointing at Rebecca’s infuriatingly calm face through the bars. 

In the distance a door opened with a hiss of pressurized air. Both Jamie and Rebecca tensed and looked over in that direction. Or, well, Jamie tried to look but the view from the cell was pretty limited, all things considered. She'd had better views from the brigs of far less fancy ships than this.

Footsteps approached. Turning back, Rebecca lowered her voice and said in a rush, "Jamie, listen to me for once in your life. You are my friend, and I am going to get you out of this, but you have to do what I say."

Jamie shook her head. "No. Not without her."

Swearing fluently under her breath, Rebecca slammed the section of wall back into place to hide her attempted tampering. She’d only just managed to get everything in place and turn around, when no less than four Czerka guards in green and gold livery marched into sight. All of them were holding blaster rifles and were armoured to boot. They weren’t walking military-grade arsenals like the Republic Troopers from the transport, but they still weren’t people Jamie wanted to fuck with unless she had some serious firepower at her back. Hastily Jamie hid her mining laser in one of her bulky pockets, praying they wouldn’t pat her down. 

“You shouldn’t be down here,” one of them said to Rebecca. 

Rebecca pointed to a corner of the ceiling. “I noticed the cameras were down and came to investigate in case the prisoner managed to escape.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, then stomped past her to key in a code into the control panel leading to Jamie’s cell. “Next time, alert one of us instead.” 

The plasma bars fizzed out of existence. The leader of this particular pillock squad made a sharp motion to the others, and two of them marched forward, grabbed Jamie by the shoulders, and hauled her upright. 

“Easy does it, lads,” Jamie grumbled. “Could’ve just asked.”

One of them clipped her on the back of the head with his gauntleted fist. “Quiet.” 

After they yanked her hands behind her back and clipped a set of handcuffs around her wrists, they marched her out of the cell. Jamie gave Rebecca the dirtiest glare she possibly could, and Rebecca just rolled her eyes in response, trailing after the group. Two sets of hands remained firm around Jamie’s upper arms as they walked, guiding her further into the depths of the ship. 

When they all crowded into an elevator together, doors sliding shut behind them, a cheerful cantina tune began to play. 

“So,” Jamie ventured. “Don’t suppose anyone’s got a light?” 

No answer. From the corner of her vision, Jamie could just make out Rebecca biting back an ill-timed smile in the back of the elevator. Or maybe she was trying to stop herself from screaming in frustration. Difficult to tell from this angle. 

“Just trying to be neighbourly,” Jamie grumbled.

“Shut up,” said one of the guards whose fingers dug into her arm. 

A light dinged, the music stopped, and the elevator doors opened with a hiss. Jamie couldn’t see beyond the massive frame of the two guards standing in front of her, but soon the four of them were flanking her as they all moved forward, leading her onto the bridge of what appeared to be Peter Quint’s flagship. 

Or at least, that was what Jamie assumed. And given that Peter Quint was standing at the head of the bridge, she reckoned she wasn’t too far off the mark. 

His hands were clasped behind his back and he faced away, looking out through the transparisteel windows at the sleek fore of the ship pointing into space, surrounded by a veritable fleet of other vessels that looked like they were on direct loan from the Empire. The long hems of Peter’s dark coat brushed his ankles, but he did not turn around or indeed take any notice of the new arrivals. In fact, he seemed engaged in deep conversation with someone whom Jamie could not see. The light glinted off one of his hands, the metal dark of his cybernetic limb dark. If Jamie hadn’t been looking for it, she might have mistaken it for a glove of some sort. 

The bridge split into three segments, the centre being command ending in a . Two of the guards veered off to the left, while another marched straight forward to address Peter. The last kept a firm hold of Jamie’s arm and hauled her off to the right, circling around while Rebecca trailed behind them, silent. As they went, Jamie got a better view of exactly who Peter was talking to, and she started.

“Dani -” 

The guard yanked at Jamie’s arm to keep her on course, and the three of them stopped at the head of the right wing, separated from command by a pit sunk into the floor, where engineers and pilots and God only knows who else toiled away pressing buttons or something. Jamie had no idea what was required to run a ship this size. Armed men, apparently, for that constituted the majority of people on the bridge. Guards at the doors. Guards at the helm. Guards along the walls.

Dani’s wrists weren’t bound with handcuffs, but she was kneeling on the ground as if she’d fallen there, and her cheek bore a bruise that was already starting to go purple. Her shoulders were hunched around her ears, and she was leaning away from Peter. When Jamie had spoken, Dani’s eyes flicked in her direction then widened. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but snapped it shut once more, wringing her hands together in her lap. She was not wearing the lightsabre anywhere on her person. 

Peter had tilted his head to listen to whatever report the guard was delivering to him. He nodded and the guard went away with a sharp salute. And then he turned to look at Jamie. 

“Jamie,” he said, “It’s been a minute.”

“Yeah, not nearly enough,” Jamie muttered. 

The guard cuffed her again. Not enough to bruise, but enough to sting. On the other side of her, Jamie saw Rebecca’s hand tighten into a fist. 

If Peter seemed at all troubled by this exchange, he did not show it. “You’ve led us on a bit of a merry chase, you know. Could’ve saved me the trouble and just let me have her back on Telos IV.” 

Nodding towards Dani, Jamie said, "Since when do you care about dead Jedi? Or bounties for that matter? You’re rolling in credits."

Peter let out a bark of laughter. "About - what?" He looked down at Dani, saw the stricken expression on her face, and then he smiled that sickly sweet smile of his. "Oh, I see."

Dani did not move. She did not speak.

When Peter continued speaking, it was not to Jamie. “No, it’s not credits I’m after. Or Jedi. But you know that. Don’t you, darling?” He crouched down before Dani, who shrank back from him. His voice was soft when he said, "You know what I want. Just give it back, love, and you can be on your way. I'll even give you your own personal escort back to Alderaan with enough credits to drown yourself in. How does that sound?"

Dani blinked up at him in surprise. Then her eyes darted in Jamie's direction.

Peter followed her gaze, and Jamie wanted to burn the smirk off his smug fucking face. "Ah, no," he said, turning back to Dani. "I'm afraid that one stays with me."

Dani licked at her lips and straightened her shoulders. "You let her go, or I won’t give it to you."

From this angle Jamie couldn't see the expression on Peter's face. His broad shoulders held a barely restrained tension, as though on the cusp of explosive movement. And when he spoke, even the gentle softness of his voice was a lie, "Very well. You have my word."

Don't, Jamie wanted to shout in warning. Don't do it.

Slowly, Dani reached into her cloak and unpicked a section of the lining, revealing a makeshift hidden pocket. She rummaged around then pulled something out and set it on the floor. Jamie strained to get a better look. Her captor kneed her roughly in the back for her trouble, and she would've gone face first into the ground if not for the hand in her hair yanking her back so that she remained upright.

It didn't stop her from catching a glimpse of what was being exchanged, however. Shards of metal, black gold. All in pieces, like a disassembled puzzle.

Peter was silent. He stared down at the pieces Dani had placed at his feet. Then in a smooth motion he stood, pushing himself upright to loom over her. 

"Do you think this is funny?" he asked in that too quiet, too dangerous tone.

Eyes wide, Dani shook her head. "No, I -"

Peter kicked the pieces away with a vicious swipe of his foot, and Dani flinched back with a startled cry. He darted forward and seized a handful of her cloak.

"Where is it?" he snarled.

"That's - That's all I have! The box fell apart after I touched it, I swear!"

Peter's hand tightened around the fabric, pulling up so that Dani was held slightly off the ground by the scruff of her neck, her feet scrambling for purchase on the metal flooring. "Box?" he repeated. "I'm not asking about a fucking toy box! Where is the holocron?"

"The -? The what?"

With a vicious curse, he threw her back onto the ground. Dani caught herself on her hands with a hiss of pain, and she flinched back when Peter began to circle her. 

"Don't play dumb," he said. "You know what I'm after."

"I don't -"

"You think I'm fucking blind? You think a piece of shit nobody from a backwater in Alderaan can kill a Jedi? You think you just woke up one day with powers?" He stalked around her, his expression a mask of fury. "You are nothing. You are nobody. You're not Force sensitive. You're a puppet. Just a piece of meat to house something greater, and you don't even fucking know it!"

The deck fell silent but for the beep of electronics, the rustle of fabric as pilots kept the ship on course. Jamie darted a look towards Rebecca, but her face was carefully blank and guarded, her thumb hooked through the belt of her blaster pistol in a way that Jamie knew meant she was actually nervous about something. None of which boded well.

“I was so close,” Peter was saying, and he didn’t even seem to be talking to Dani anymore. His words were a ranting mutter, wrathful and desperate. The metal of his robotic arm clicked in a menacing fashion every time he clenched his hand into a rhythmic fist. “This was it. This was my last run. The last deed I’d ever have to do for those evil cocksuckers on Dromund Kaas. Plant a holocron and be done with it. Be free of the Empire forever. Until you -”

His voice trailed off and his steps slowed to a halt. In the muddy light of the bridge, he was a faceless silhouette. He clenched his metal fist so tightly that it creaked and sparked. Dani shivered on the ground at his feet, her shoulders hunched, as though she were trying to make herself small enough to disappear. 

“You went snooping. You took something that didn’t belong to you. And I need it back. No matter the price.” In a swift movement, Peter crouched down on his haunches again. Dani flinched back, but Peter merely watched her for a long and uncomfortable moment before he continued, “So, what’s it going to be?”

From where she stood, Jamie could just make out the defiant set of Dani’s jaw. 

Sighing, Peter reached out and tucked a stray curl of hair behind Dani’s ear, while Dani sat, frozen in place. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like hurting people,” he said. “Always the worst way of going about it. And, you know, it just doesn’t work as well as you’d think. So, tell me. What’s your price? Hmm? What do I have to do to get you to talk?” 

When again Dani did not answer, Peter withdrew his hand. “Normally I’m a patient man, but as we live and breathe, there’s a Dark Lord of the Sith coming our way. If you don’t deal with me, then you’ll be dealing with him. And I assure you: you want to be dealing with me instead.” 

Licking her lips, Dani said, “I already told you everything I know.” 

“Well, that is disappointing.”

Jamie tried to shift her feet slightly so she could get a better angle on the rest of the bridge, but the guard behind her kicked her in the back of the knee. When she went down with a grunt of pain, her knee slamming into the ground, the guard then yanked her back up by the handcuffs behind her with enough force she felt her arm sockets complain. 

“Get up,” the guard growled, and Jamie shot him a look that should have dropped him on the spot. 

The brief commotion drew Peter and Dani’s attention back in this direction. Peter pushed himself upright and turned, while Dani’s panicked gaze moved from him to Jamie and back again. 

“Or maybe I’m going about this the wrong way,” Peter murmured. He walked slowly across the bridge towards Jamie.  

“Even if I did know something, you and I both know I’d rather cut out my own tongue than tell you,” Jamie spat. The guard tightened his hold on her handcuffs, but she pinned him in place with a fierce glare and said, “Touch me again, and I’ll end you, mate.” 

Peter held up his hand before the guard could react. When Jamie faced him once more, Peter was close enough that she could see the thin scar on his cheek. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been the one to give it to him. She didn’t know where in his sordid past he’d gotten it. 

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile that never touched his eyes. “Oh, Jamie. I never thought you actually knew something. You’re much too simple to get sensible answers before leaping to a lost cause.” 

In spite of herself, Jamie’s gaze darted to Dani who was watching their interaction with naked dread. 

Peter followed her gaze and grinned. “Aye,” he said. “That’s the one.” 

And without further ado, he drew his blaster pistol, pointed it at Jamie, and shot her. The smell of burnt flesh was an afterthought to the blinding pain that sent her vision white. Jamie staggered, keeling slowly over the charred wound low in her abdomen just above her hip. Something cold was pressed against her face, and it was with a blurred realisation that Jamie found herself lying on the floor. She blinked through the muzzy borders of her vision, trying to move and only managing to gurgle weakly. 

Right. Bad idea, that. 

At least blaster fire didn’t allow for my bleeding. Mass internal burn trauma, yes, but she wasn’t about to bleed out on the floor. Every breath was a sharp lance through Jamie’s stomach. She pushed herself into a crouch on all fours, registering the commotion around her as if experiencing it through water. 

“ - Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare -!” 

“Peter, killing her gets you nothing. You should -”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Becs! I won’t be taking orders ever again! Not from you, and especially not from the Empire!”

“Then get what you need, but Jamie doesn’t have it. And neither, it seems, does she.” 

Three sets of boots surrounded her. The guard beside her, and Rebecca standing between her and Peter. As Jamie tilted her head up, Peter started to stalk away. His footsteps were loud against the metal grating of the floor, and he dropped heavily into the captain’s chair at the head of the bridge. He had holstered his pistol and now he reached down to pick up something that had been propped up against the base of the chair. 

He pressed a button, and the lightsabre leapt to life. The blue light scattered across his face. “The holocron isn’t on Alderaan,” Peter said. “We did a very thorough check. Which means you -” he pointed the lightsabre at Dani, who was now standing at the centre of the bridge facing him, “- must have left it somewhere between there and Telos IV.” 

Dani’s expression was dark, her hands were trembling fists at her side. 

With a sigh, Peter sheathed the lightsabre and set it on the arm of his chair. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs so that his ankle was propped on his opposite knee. Addressing the guard beside Jamie, he said, “Rebecca’s right Jamie doesn’t know anything of use. Take her to the lower decks and throw her out the airlock.” 

The guard did not even say an affirmative. He simply hauled Jamie to her feet, and began dragging her back towards the exit despite Rebecca’s protests. 

“Leave her alone.” 

There was something wrong with Dani’s voice. An odd burr, a hard quality that did not suit her. She still had her gaze fixed upon Peter, but something in the way she spoke made every person in the room tense. The guard shoving Jamie along froze, looking back towards Peter for further instruction. 

There was an internal pressure building in Jamie’s chest, something like desperation, like the acrid aftertaste of gunmetal and blasterfire. All around them, the wall panels groaned. A few crumpled beneath the strain. Rupture of pipe and control panels, and with a screech of metal on metal all the lights on the bridge went out. Steam from the burst pipes billowed along the floor. Every guard in the room — even Jamie’s — raised their weapon towards Dani, glancing nervously around. Moments later, the emergency lighting flickered to life, illuminating the deck with a faint glow. 

Quint’s face was cast from below. Unlike the others, he had not moved, remaining slouched on his captain’s chair like a low-slung throne. He smiled at Dani. “Was that supposed to impress anyone?” 

Dani reached out her hand and the sabre that had been resting on the arm of Peter’s chair was in Dani’s grasp before Jamie could even blink, as though it had leapt into place there. With a press of her thumb, the blade extended, slicing a blue line through the gloom. The air was cold, so cold that Jamie could see her own breath misting in a cloud, and the icy fear that had twisted in her chest was a thing now slicked with darkness. A treachery of black ice beneath every step. 

She watched, handcuffed and helpless, as Dani gripped the sabre so tightly that her hands shook. One of Dani’s eyes gleamed gold and bright, unblinking, fixed upon Peter, and from the hilt a crimson light peeled down the length of the blade, a slow and burning bleed of kyber, until the sabre was completely engulfed in a light as red as a dying star. 

“Open fire,” Peter said, voice trembling, face pale, staring at her with wide eyes. He jabbed his finger in Dani’s direction and repeated in a shout to the room at large, “Open fucking fire!”

Over a dozen guardsmen sighted down their blaster rifles and began shooting. The lightsabre was a living thing in Dani’s hands. It moved in ways Jamie had only ever seen in training manuals, in the hands of Knights and Masters. No motion wasted. Every angle of the blade made with surety of purpose. 

Four guards were dead by their own reflected blaster fire before they could even manage to pull the trigger a second time. Dani reached out, and four others had their rifles ripped from their hands, the weapons warping into useless hunks of metal and cast aside. One of the guards stationed at the exit raced forward, pulling out a long knife that had been strapped to his thigh. Dani did not even pause in deflecting incoming blaster fire; she swept the lightsabre behind her, passing the hilt between her hands and bringing it back around. Half of the guard’s severed body went careening into the control pit, where the pilots and engineers cowered with hands over their heads. The other half skidded to a halt on the floor, dead weight. 

Jamie’s mouth hung open. Blaster fire continued to fly through the air in streaks of red. The guard who had been assigned to her was torn between trying to shoot Dani and trying to keep a hand on his charge. Then Rebecca stepped forward, pressed the muzzle of her pistol to the side of his head, and pulled the trigger. He crumpled into a heap on the ground, and Jamie swore loudly. 

Crouching down, Rebecca grabbed something off the guard’s body and used it to unlock Jamie’s handcuffs. “Don’t just stand there!” Rebecca yelled over the din, and she circled an arm around Jamie’s waist to help her along. “Let’s go!”

The two of them lurched towards the exit. A deflected shot struck the ground beside them, and they ducked down. Smoke and steam filled the air. The smell of blaster fire and burnt flesh was thick enough to make Jamie gag. Cursing under her breath all the while, Rebecca pulled Jamie to the exit, where a guardsman was sprawled, dead on the floor with a hole the size of a fist burnt through his chest. Rebecca had to let go of Jamie for a second to haul the guard closer so she could use his hand to unlock the biosecurity lock on the exit. The panel flashed green, and Rebecca dropped the guard in favour of Jamie again. 

The elevator was eleven floors down and slowly started to ascend. 

“Come on,” Rebecca was muttering under her breath to herself. “Come on, come on, come on -”

Behind them, the blaster fire dwindled to a halt. There was the sound of something heavy and wet falling to the ground. With a thrill of sickening fear gripping her stomach, Jamie turned and felt Rebecca do the same.

The walls were scarred and pitted. A shower of sparks fell from the ceiling where a wall panel had been shot loose. Through the haze of smoke, Jamie could make out the shape of bodies scattered across the floor, and at the very centre of it all Dani stood. 

Her back was to them. She faced the captain’s chair, the lightsabre burning red through the acrid smoke. For a moment it seemed Peter was standing to his feet, but then Jamie realised he was being lifted up. He grasped at his throat with both hands, heels lashing out at the air, making wordless strangled noises, gasping. Then his head snapped to one side with a sickening crack, and he went still. Dani looked up at him and with an almost lazy gesture, tossed him aside. His body slammed into a far wall and fell to the ground in a heap.

Jamie’s pulse skyrocketed when Dani turned around and looked at them. And when Dani started to stalk in their direction, adrenaline coursed through Jamie; every nerve in her body was screaming for her to flee, to hide in some small dark place until this danger had passed over the land like the shadow of night. 

Dani’s cold gaze fell upon Rebecca, and she raised the lightsabre once more. 

“Woah!” Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was the pain doing funny things to her head, but Jamie leapt in front of Rebecca, hands trembling and lifted as though in surrender. “No, no! I mean, yeah, I’m also mad at her, but I don’t want her to die!” 

“Thanks,” muttered Rebecca behind her. 

“Shut up,” Jamie muttered back. 

Dani had gone still, but the weapon was still a gleaming line of bloody crimson held overhead.

“She can get us a cruiser with a hyperdrive,” Jamie said. “We can get out of here. Just - put down the lightsabre? Please?” 

The elevator made a bright ding behind them and the doors slid open. Dani leveled the lightsabre and for a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cut it straight through her from shoulder to hip. The blade stopped, pointing at Rebecca just over Jamie’s shoulder, and she made a sharp little gesture with the tip that Jamie could hear burning up the air right next to her ear. 

"Move," Dani ordered softly, and her voice sounded odd. As though there was more than one person speaking in unison.

Rebecca moved, backing slowly into the elevator. Lowering her hands, Jamie followed. Dani watched them with the fixedness of a predator, the air around her cold enough that Jamie shivered when Dani stepped into the small enclosed space with them. The lightsabre still seared in Dani’s fist, pointed towards the ground. Rebecca hit a button for hangar bay three, and the doors of the elevator shut with a hiss. 

The elevator started its descent. If this had been any other time, Jamie might have been tempted to reach out, gently grasp Dani’s wrist and urge her to put the lightsabre away. But this was not any other time, and there was nothing of the woman Jamie had grown to know over the last week in Dani’s face now. She stared blankly at the shut elevator doors, never blinking.

They arrived at hangar bay three and Rebecca immediately rushed over to the console that controlled access to the ship docked just beyond the hangar doors. She hooked something into the base of the console, making the screen flicker before giving her full admin privileges. As she started keying in the right commands, Jamie walked up beside her. 

Dani drifted behind her, blade in hand, completely silent. It felt like being followed by a mute ghost. 

Whatever Rebecca did worked. The hangar doors unlatched, turned, then slowly opened to reveal the sleek polished interior of a luxury cruiser yacht. Jamie stepped into the yacht’s entryway and looked around at the gleaming walls. Finally, Dani hit the button to sheathe the lightsabre and brushed past Jamie without a glance in her direction, vanishing around a corner of the cruiser. The brief contact made Jamie shiver. 

“Right. Okay,” said Jamie, hand pressing on the wound at her abdomen, still jittery from that feeling of being prey in the sights of something with very big teeth. She turned to Rebecca. “Fuck you, I guess?” 

From behind the console, Rebecca smiled weakly at her. “I suppose I deserve that. Does this mean I owe you a favour?”

“The biggest favour,” Jamie said gravely. “Like - seriously huge.”

“Until next time, then. Oh, and Jamie?” Rebecca said, and Jamie paused to glance back at her. “Don’t die.” 

Swallowing thickly, Jamie nodded, then Rebecca hit the button to shut the doors.  

Easier said than done.

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #roman writes #no great revelation #damie #dani clayton/jamie

[secret-time-is-here]

An Error’s Journey

Chapter 5

Previous - First - Next 

TW: Talk of death, killing, and cannibalism.

Waking up, he stared at the ceiling for a moment, heavily confused.

What was that dream? Why did he remember all of it? Why was Hearts going by Lust? Why did everything feel so familiar? Were they memories?

Far too many questions, far too early.

Slowly he sat up, reaching for the glasses he knew he had nearby. Looking down he fell asleep in his day clothes, half-heartedly he misses when he could easily wear the same clothes every day, but that’s a price you have to pay for sanity.

He could’ve sworn he was knitting before he fell asleep, and was definitely not tucked in or laid down. Nightmare must’ve come in to check on him at some point.

He pulled the strings from his eyes as he carefully got off his hanging bed. Being mindful to not have it swing too much or else it’ll whack him in the back, and let his magic open up the curtains and grab a change of clothes as he started a shower. Also setting the clothes and his glasses on the counter.

Those dreams were far too detailed. He nearly never had dreams in the first place, let alone that vivid and so many back to back. Hearts doesn’t go by Lust anymore, not after he joined Nightmare.

Hearts had always said that Lust was a name he used to use, one a beloved ex of his repurposed and he was always so hesitant to let go of it, but when he left the Star Council and started a new life apart of Nightmare’s gang, he decided it was time to let go.

Why would he dream of dating Hearts in the first place? He was with Blue, and while they are on opposing sides, they still love each other. Both agree Hearts is safer and happier with Nightmare, and Blue safer and happier with Dream.

He’s happily single thank you very much. Far too many mental instabilities to even think of a relationship at the moment, that wasn’t changing no matter how much Reaper flirted with him.

So what were those dreams? Why did they give him such emotion?

He shook off the thought, for now, changing into his clothes before giving himself a once-over in the mirror.

The reflection of a skeleton with coal bones stared back at him, mismatched eye lights sitting in his sockets and bright blue tear tracks under his eyes. One of his eyelights was plain white, like most Sans’ have, the other was deep blue ringed with a murky yellow.

His neck was bright red for no other reason than to show how much of an error he was inside and out, but he had a dark blue scarf around his neck to hide most of it. His dark red shirt fit him for the first time in centuries, much like his black patchy jacket. Looking down his pants were baggy and long, but overtime staying in Nightmare’s mansion, he grew into them, since he’s no longer staying in a place where time is paused infinitely. Looking at his feet, his toes wiggled on top of his black flip-flops.

He was missing something… looking back at the counter, he grabbed his glasses, then back in the mirror, he saw that handsome bastard he knew so well.

Smirking he grabbed his phone before heading down to the kitchen, most everyone already gathered there, most sitting at the kitchen island, a few at the couches decorating the walls.

“MORning.” He called, voice glitching.

“Good morning, Error.” Nightmare called, “Get some coffee before Killer drinks it all.”

Nightmare was one of the eldest in the Multiverse and had collected a gang of so-called bad sans’ to wreak havoc upon the multiverse, a sort of payback for being outcasted. While Nightmare refused to talk about his past, the gang knew that his goop was not natural, as the dark guardian had confessed once upon a time he didn’t look like a perpetually dripping blob of a skeleton with a single cyan eye.

The odd goop that surrounds Nightmare thankfully doesn’t soak into everything, so he can still wear most clothing without a problem. Even though he doesn’t change from the black hoodie, shorts, and slippers he wears every day.

“I’m not drinking all of it!”

“You’ve had three cups already. You got in the kitchen six minutes ago.”

Killer was one of the several Sans’ Nightmare had collected for his crew and was from a genocide gone horribly wrong, Frisk convincing him to kill everyone. Frisk did this over and over through many resets, and it slowly tore Killer apart. By the time Nightmare found him, he was very much insane, desperate to get rid of the guilt that was eating at him. He had so much negativity, that he had black tears running from his sockets, and his eyelights gone.

Nightmare offered to let him in and help him, and unknowingly, Killer had accepted. Today, Killer’s wearing a long-sleeved black turtleneck and basketball shorts with sneakers and socks, his old tattered hoodie resting around his shoulders. For once, he even has a single eye lit up, a sign that he’s happy.

“Morning, Ru!” Hearts called patting the seat next to him, “How’d ya sleep?”

Hearts was wearing a comfortable knitted sweater that Error had made for him last Giftmas. Since he was no longer plagued by that unbearable heat, he can wear it without discomfort. Alongside that, he’s wearing comfy but thin black sweats along with fluffy socks.

“WEiRd.” Error shrugged, sitting down next to Hearts after stealing some coffee from Killer, “Just sOmE Odd dREams thOugh, hOpEfully, tOnight I wOn’t havE thEm again.”

“Night terrors?” Nightmare questioned

“No… I think thEy might bE mEmORiEs, but it’s hard to say. ThEy wERE cOnfusing thOugh, sO I’m trying nOt tO think tOO much abOut it.”

“Sounds like the multiverse in a nutshell,” Cross spoke up from the doorway, having just woken up. Horror let out a gruff chuckle at that.

Cross and Horror were also skeletons that Nightmare had found. Dust being the other one he had found, although the stupidly tall skeleton loves to sleep in. Dust came from a genocide gone wrong as well, except he killed out of desperation, how would Frisk be able to kill everyone if he did it himself? Although after Dust killed his brother he snapped. His eyes seem to forever shake and are mismatched like Error’s. Both red, but one with an inner ring of blue.

 Nightmare found Dust talking to himself, or seemingly so, his mind so gone that he imagined his brother as a ghost that follows him, telling him to kill more. If Dust was awake and downstairs, he’d probably be wearing his brother's scarf and his hoodie paired with long trek pants as well as slippers.

Horror didn’t come from a genocide but did come from a very dark AU that had a famine, and after so much time without food, to survive many turned to eat each other. The first time Nightmare and Horror met, Horror had tried to cut Nightmare up and eat him. At the moment, Horror’s not trying to eat everything and anything but is cooking breakfast for everyone. 

Wearing his apron, a fluffy hoodie he stole from Cross, and his normal faded t-shirt, he smiles wide. Although, much like Killer and Dust, he also wears basketball shorts and slippers. Yet, unlike everyone else, his AUs story left him with a jagged hole in the side of his head and only one bright red working eye.

Finally Cross, the one that changed the gang. The only one that hasn’t gone insane. After Cross joined, Nightmare started helping everyone else with their insanity, and eventually helped himself as well. Cross doesn’t wear the uniform his AU had forced him into anymore but does still keep some elements of his old outfit. He has his fluffy hoodie that he kept, that Horror enjoys stealing far too much, but he also kept his black turtleneck. Aside from that, he got rid of everything else, relaxing with black athletic pants and dark sneakers.

He’s the only one that looks the most like a sans appearance-wise, his eyes both white, with no scar insight. The gang says that one of his eyes used to be red, with a red scar under it. Nightmare has confirmed this but says that the reason behind that was he was sharing a soul with a human, and that now that the human has been taken care of, the red eyelight and scar are gone.

“Any… um... Pa-...pl-” Horror struggled for a moment, his injury messed with his head a lot, making it harder to speak and get sentences out. Everyone waited patiently, “Plans! Any plans?”

“Hmm… PlannEd On hanging Out with REapER, LifE, and MERcy fOR lunch. SpEnd sOmE timE with thE Charas, makE suRE IntEnt is kEEping thEm all undER cOntROl. ThEn dROp by CcinO’s, why?”

“We were thinking about a movie night later.” Dust popped his head through the door, twitching a little less than usual, a good sign. That means his brother hadn’t been keeping him up all night.

“I’ll have tO gEt gOing sO I can makE it back sOOnER thEn, dOn’t I?” Error spoke with a smirk, and Horror’s smile widened.

-----

A few portals later, to hide his trail to Nightmare’s base, he arrived in Reapertale. He passed many Gods on his way to Life’s realm, and he waved to each of them, everyone knowing him well, a long-time friend of the Gods.

“There you are, Error, I was beginning to think you forgot.” Life spoke, sitting on the deck of her cottage. Reaper a few feet away from her, floating as he sat.

Life was the Toriel of ReaperTale, but also as the nickname suggests the Goddess of life and nature. She is a goat monster with fluffy white fur, red eyes, and a flowing green silk dress with golden accents.

“Heya, Ru,” Reaper cooed, Error rolled his eyes. “Mercy couldn’t make it this time, few more souls than usual. You know how it is.”

Reaper is the God of death, his younger brother, Mercy, the God of merciful death. Both of them wearing dark cloaks tied with a rope, both having their own tokens. Reaper a small gaster blaster skull holding together the hood of his cape, and Mercy a long wisping red scarf.

“Alright, make sure to tell him ‘Hi’ for me some time then,” Error sat on the deck with them, and pulled out his knitting, “How have you two been?”

“Same old Same old,” Life sighed, “Not much to do for me, although Reaper has a little something~”

“Tor, come on, thought you agreed you’d keep that a secret.”

“Awww, yOu lEft mE Out Of a sEcREt?” Error faked betrayal, “HOw cOuld yOu?!”

“You watch too much UnderNovela...” Error gave pouty eyes, “Fine Glitch. Ink and I have been cuddling a bit outside of work. Just Queerplantonic cuddling, nothing more… right now.”

“YOu bEttER nOt lEt DREam or NightmarE knOw yOu caught fEElings DEath,” Error chuckled, Reaper scoffed.

“What about you, Error?” Life asked, setting a cup of tea down in front of Error.

“Had some weird dreams… but nothing much more than that. The war is still going on, but I complain about that nearly daily.” Life and Death gave confused looks, as if asking him to elaborate, “I think they might be memories, but it’s hard to say. They weren’t really about me… they could be, but I doubt it.”

“What do you mean by that?” Reaper rested on his stomach, head cradled in his hands, still floating in the air.

“Well, the dreams were about some Classic timeline, a skeleguy named Sci who’s dated Hearts back when he was Lust.” Error stopped his knitting and picked up the tea, “I know it has to be Hearts, he’s the only UnderLust timeline with a human named Ace and a brother named Pink.”

“Well, it might not be far-fetched that you’re from a classic timeline, and we all know that you haven’t always been an error and that you do get the occasional flash of something with the right prompting.” Error hummed, “Did this Sci guy act a lot like you?”

“...Admittedly, yeah. We even have the same glasses.” Error tapped the rim of his glasses, the same he saw in the first dream.

“Maybe you’re going to be slowly dreaming through your past life for a bit?”

“I know we’re literally Universe travelers and Gods, but that’s a little crazy, don’t ya think?”

“Well, you don’t remember anything before the AntiVoid, so it’d be a fair theory to say the AntiVoid is the reason you can’t remember anything… and you moved out of there some years ago.” Life reasoned, “Maybe without its influence your memories are starting to come back.”

“Maybe...” Error’s phone buzzed, and he looked at the new text.

Intent was losing control of the Charas, they ran out of chocolate. The destroyer chuckled. “Sorry guys gotta get going, Intent needs me. Thanks for listening to my weird bullshit though.”

“Anytime, Glitchy.”

His mind flashed and he was in the dark world of the save screen, Reaper cuddling close, his chest hurting from a long red slash across it.

-----

Sneaking into the Omega Timeline was absolutely terrible the first time he had done it, but now it had become routine. Alongside his glitching, he learned that he could manipulate his code to look like any Sans he wanted, and even match their voice, although it put a slight strain on his soul if done too long.

Looking like a Classic Sans, he got a secret identity in the Omega Timeline, a small workshop under his false name that he uses to sell his crafts giving him some G to use to buy gifts for the gang, the Gods, and the Charas.

Pulling a pouch out of his pocket, he walked to the grocery store, buying several fun-sized snack packs of chocolate for his idiot humans, before heading out to the pocket space that all the Chara’s lived in.

By accident, he discovered the space and all the Chara’s living there years ago, and regrettably, grew close to all of them. Intent acted as the main parent of the house like pocket space, and Error was the punny uncle that saved them with his copious amounts of chocolate.

He arrived and before he could even knock on the door, he was jumped on by many Charas. Intent was quick to pull them all off before he crashed.

“Sorry, Error, they’re all a little cranky and are coming down from a sugar high. Brats found where I’ve been keeping the chocolate and ate all of it at once.” Intent explained, red eyes glaring at the younger ones.

Intent was one of the eldest of the Chara’s and the only one willing to take an active role as caretaker. Their Frisk long since paused and seeming to not be returning to the underground. When he had first found all of them, the eldest of the Chara’s, not so cleverly nicknamed Dest, had pulled him aside and explained things. 

The pocket space they live in is the in-between of the in-between. The space that separates the Void from the AntiVoid. Time is slow, but not at a complete stop. It’s connected to everywhere, and nowhere at once. From the pocket space, the Chara’s can live and go check on their Frisk’s as they please. Although with so many new AUs recently, a lot of them are young.

Intent’s timeline is the first Genocide timeline, long since abandoned by everyone, all the characters dead except Frisk. Dest’s timeline is the original timeline, and they keep a very close eye on their Frisk, who’s been on the surface for years now.

Thanks to Error, things had been more liveable and far less confusing. With his knitting and newfound hobby of sewing, he made them all new clothes and bought necklaces from the OmegaTimeline that have their nicknames on them.

Now not everyone’s wearing the same green and yellow striped sweater and brown pants, and a lot of them have their own styles and tastes. Plus, with how slow all of them age, it’s not often that he has to refit them or make new clothes.

“It’s alright IntEnt, thanks fOR gEtting thEm Off mE.”

“Least I could do, now come on punny.”

His mind flashed, showing the image of a young Chara and Asriel, both clambering around his body, and enjoying themselves, laughing happily.

He shook his skull, and Intent gave a concerned look, “Ya good, E?”

“Y-yEah...” Shakily, he followed the other inside.

-----

Error sighed as he sat down at a barstool of his favorite Cafe.

“Hey, Error, bad day?”

“COnfusing day...”

“Strong coffee or extreme hot chocolate?”

“ExtREmE cOcOa,” He reached into his pocket and passed a few G for the drink, “I dOn’t gEt what’s gOing On with mE. FiRst thEsE wEiRd dREams slash mEmORiEs thEn I’m gEtting flashEs Of mEmORiEs I dOn’t REmEmbER-?”

“Woah there, let’s slow down a bit.” Error stopped, hanging on Ccino’s every word, “Deep breath in,” He breathed in deeply, “and let it out slowly.” He exhaled for a long minute. “There? Is the world a little less overwhelming?”

Ccino is from a surface AU, simply owning a cat Cafe and living above it. He has grey eyes and pale bones, usually wearing earthy colors and an apron, although on occasion outside of work he wears a blue hoodie with bunny ears attached to the hood.

Error nodded soundlessly, closing his eyes, “Why don’t you start from the beginning, then I can try and help, but before you start, take a drink, alright? God or not, it’s good to stay hydrated. Even with hot cocoa.” His eyes half opened at the sound of a cup softly landing on the counter. He took a big sip and then began to speak.

“StaRtEd with thE dREams I guEss… thEy wEREn’t abOut mE thOugh, but thEy might bE? At lEast LifE and REapER think sO. ThEy think I might bE REmEmbERing my past nOw that I’m nOt living in thE AntiVOid...”

“And what do you think about the dreams?” Ccino spoke slowly and softly, petting a cat that had jumped up into his arms.

“I dOn’t knOw what tO think.”

“That’s okay. You’re allowed to not have an opinion on things. What do you want to do about the dreams?”

“NOthing Right nOw.”

“Then you don’t have to do anything.”

“I’vE bEEn gEtting flashEs Of mEmORiEs tOO, but I dOn’t REmEmbER thEm. I knOw thEy’RE minE bEcausE it’s in my pERspEctivE, thEy fEEl familiaR. I can REcOgnizE pEOplE in thEm.”

“What do you want to do about the flashes?”

“SEE what happEns with thEm I guEss...”

“Then you can wait and see.” Ccino pulled out his phone for a moment, “Before you leave to Night’s, can you stay a bit longer? Night had put in an order for some sweets and drinks for your movie night.”

Error nodded, and Ccino walked away, going into the kitchen area to work on the order.

“Hello, Error.” A young voice suddenly called, and he froze. The voice was one from his dreams… and one he still knew to this day. He didn’t bother looking over.

“...Hi, CORE.”

“Don’t avoid sleep.” Error slowly turned his head towards Core, “Your dreams will help. I can’t promise all of them will be happy. I can promise that they will help. You need to go through them. Otherwise, the multiverse is destined for peril.” He just gave confusedly.

Core stared back at him, “Why the confused look? I’ve already told you before that I’m the watcher of the Multiverse.” 

-

Everyone belongs to their respected creators

#Undertale #Fanfic #An Error's journey #AEJ chapter 5 #Chapter 5 #Error sans #Error #Nightmare sans #Nightmare #Underlust sans #Lust #Hearts #Underswap sans #Blue #Killer sans #Killer #Horror sans #Horror #Cross sans #Cross #Dust sans #Dust #Reaper sans #Reaper #Reapertale Toriel #Life #Reapertale Papyrus #Mercy #Intent Chara #Dest Chara

[re1d]

there comes a time to say goodbye | spencer reid

→ summary: pt.2 of different lifetime // “but i have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. it is a lovely and unique thing in the universe.” - john steinbeck, east of eden → warnings: mentions of maeve’s death, mentions of murder, ptsd, and anxiety, some solid angst, but also fluff (DEF NOT proofread lmaO) → word count: 6.8k [overall, this is the longest fic i’ve ever written n the whole thing (+pt.1 is over 11k)] → a/n: based on prompt no. 40 from the list ; “it’s true. i’ve loved you ever since i got to know you - and even if you don’t feel the same, i’m willing to accept it.” // can u guys tell me if my writing’s showing up in the tags?? // istg if this doesn’t show up in the tags eye—pls be sure to rb pls n thanks!! // loosely based on ‘in the blood’ 9x06

Battery powered candles flicker on a loop in the corner of Spencer’s bedroom. Although he’s come to terms with his puerile fear of the dark, his mind still doesn’t trust his body enough to fall asleep without some presence of light. Some nights—nights like these—he needs more than one. Warm candlelight kisses his tear stained cheeks, and his thoughts wander to you, sleeping in his guest room on a mattress that he never bought a frame for. Of course, he imagines that you’re already tucked away in the land of dreams, but he can’t help but hope that if he called out to you in his head, you’d answer.

The faint glow of his alarm clock is the only thing that he looks at for a while. Red numbers begin to fade into blurry mixtures marred by exhaustion, but his body, no matter how tired, won’t let him submit. Spencer’s eyes land on the texture that coats his ceiling next. Oh, how easy would it be for him to just reach up and slice his finger open. Humans are so fragile, so delicate—it makes him wonder if he is even human, himself. Every day, having to smile, to converse with his team as if nothing five months ago had even happened kills him on the inside, but he doesn’t find himself trying to stop it. Part of him wants to integrate back into normal life, but another part begs him to stay, to wallow a little longer.

“[Y/N],” Spencer calls into his dimly lit room while placing his mismatched sock-clad feet on the wood of his floor. His legs lead him into where you are sleeping, and he takes a moment to soak in the sight of you. Blankets are strewn across the memory foam, drool is dripping out of the side of your mouth, and your arms twitch every so often. He thinks you look calm; it makes him feel like he’s in the place he needs to be.

A strained whimper leaves your lips, suddenly making the erratic movements of your arms much less adorable. Spencer recognizes the sound. It’s that of fear—fear that cannot be extinguished by merely waking from the nightmare, but by destroying it completely. He watches you for a few seconds, debating whether or not he should shake you awake, but you seem to beat him to the punch. Your misty eyes shoot open only to see a dark figure in the corner of Spencer’s guest room. The locked drawer next to you is unlatched almost instantly as you point your gun at the shadow.

Spencer sputters whilst raising his hands high into the air, “[Y/N]! I-It’s me, it’s Spencer!” He comes closer and reaches out to tug on the lamp’s pull chain. The yellow gleam of the light illuminates the highest points of his features while simultaneously casting darkness onto the lowest. Squinting at him, you’re able to see his mouth quirked into a slight smile, and it makes you snort while lowering your weapon.

“Jesus Christ, Spencer. I thought someone was here to kill both of us.” Your breathing is labored as you place a clammy hand over your heart, trying to calm its incessant beating. “But, now that we’re both awake—you have to tell me what you’re thinking about. Remember our deal?”

Yes. He does remember it—just like he remembers every other small occurrence that’s ever happened to him. Your words come back to him in the small room; they resonate within him, and push him to tell you how he’s been feeling ever since you had helped him fix up his apartment five months, three days, and 43 minutes ago. After he had confided in you about his guilt and asked you to stay with him, you made a pact: if he was ever to feel restless or wake up from a nightmare, he had to talk to you about it. At this point, you’ve practically moved into his guest bedroom, wanting to be there for him whenever he needed.

Spencer nods as you pat the spot in front of you on the mattress. While bringing your legs together to sit crisscross, you shoot him an encouraging grin. “C’mon, Spence,” you say, “tell me what’s on your mind. Did you have another nightmare?”

“No. I just ... couldn’t sleep.” Spencer’s voice is soft, almost like it would disintegrate if it were to be touched, “You know, [Y/N]? It’s been five months—five months, and you’re still here for me. Watching, waiting, comforting ... I guess I was thinking about how I’m never really there for you.” He can feel your gaze perforating his nonchalant exterior, trying to pick him apart, to locate the loose stitches in his heart. Before you can make up a response, he opens his mouth to speak once more, “[Y/N]. When I, uh, agreed to the deal—I know it wasn’t obvious in the moment—but, I want you to know that it goes both ways. So, please, let me listen. Just this once. Please.”

As you hesitate, he catches you retreating back into yourself. Your posture shrinks even further, and his body surges forward, taking your hands in his much larger ones. His eyes plead with you silently, begging you to surrender. With a sigh, you slip out of his grasp and stand from your place on the bed. “Spencer. I really don’t think I should tell you. It’s pretty—.”

“God, [Y/N]—it can’t be anything worse than what we see on a daily basis.” His statement is exasperated; it comes out much harsher than he meant, and he waits for you to snap back at him. However, nothing happens. Your silence is deafening as you turn back to face him. There’s no malice, no agitation, present in your stare—only a slight edge of panic. “I—[Y/N], I’m—.”

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you pause before continuing, “I just ... I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. The dream—it’s, uh, it’s pretty dark. But, I guess I could fix up a bowl of cereal and talk to you about it.” 

Quickly, he scrambles up, his long legs causing him to tower you. However, you have total control over the situation. He follows behind you to his kitchen and twiddles his thumbs as you try to decide between Honey Nut Cheerios and Frosted Flakes. Eventually, you’re sitting across from each other, a cup of coffee in his hands and Honey Nut Cheerios in front of you. Glancing up, he meets your eyes, but immediately ducks away from your gaze. Shaking your head with a weak chuckle, you push the cereal box towards him, urging him to snack while you tell him your story.

Inky blackness surrounds the two of you as you crunch down on your early morning snack. Quietude hovers above the island, ready to be shattered to pieces. Once you finish chewing, you offer him a smile, but he can see your bottom lip quivering before it disappears between your teeth. An unsteady breath tumbles from your nose as you place your spoon in Spencer’s ceramic bowl.

“So,” you begin, “I’m sure you know that before I transferred to the BAU, I worked in the Crimes Against Children with Katie and Amanda. I was young, the newest member of the team, and headstrong about going into the field. Of course, I had field experience, but I just wanted to show Katie what I was made of, how much I could handle, you know?” He nods along with a furrowed brow. “Well, a few weeks after I got settled, she called me to her office and asked if I would consult on an investigation into this boy named Jaime ...”

Scribbling in your day planner, you glanced longingly up at Katie’s office. Her forehead was creased with concentration and her eyes were clouded with something that looked like doubt. She fumbled around her desk for her glasses, diving right back into the file she was working on. However, it seemed that as soon as you went back to the paperwork on your desk, the floor was bustling with a new case. Katie’s voice sounded from behind you, and everyone’s heads snapped up to stare at the woman.

“I need to see Agents [Y/L/N] and Gilroy, please,” she paused, inhaling deeply while pushing up the plastic resting on the bridge of her nose, “it’s urgent.” All of the air in the room had ceased its movement. Amanda’s eyes met yours, both excitement and a hint of fright evident in them. You two bolted out of your chairs, heading side by side up the stairs and through the door to Katie’s office.

Once inside, Katie gestured for both of you to have a seat. Her smile was weak as she looked at the her two newest recruits. It was the kind of smile that burned itself into your memory—one you would never forget. Opening to a picture, your boss pushed a file in your direction. In the photo, a little boy grinned back at you. His front two teeth were missing, but the brilliance that emanated from his beam was undeniably bright. “[Y/N], Amanda—you are my freshest eyes and some of my sharpest minds. I know you’ve only been here for a month and a half, and we’re swamped with chatroom cases—but, I want both of you to go up a floor and consult on a BAU case.” With raised eyebrows, you pointed an incredulous stare at the woman in front of you. Being that she was one of the first members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, she noticed your apprehension. “Listen, you both have the knowledge, the talent, and fairly empty schedules—which is something I wasn’t awarded the luxury of. It’s a big proposal, but I need to know as soon as possible whether you’re up for it or not.”

“Katie,” you began, tip-toeing on the tight rope of the subject, “you’re talking about, like, the BAU—like, the unit you worked with before you transferred here?”

“Yes, [Y/N]. The BAU,” she replied, “but agents, I need an answer. Now rather than later would be ideal. Their team needs you up there ASAP.” Her inquiry was met with ferociously nodding head and determined gazes. “Excellent. Grab your go bags and get into the elevator ... Agent Hotchner is expecting you.”

Warm tears are already rolling down your cheeks, but Spencer does nothing in the midst of his confusion. You had consulted with the BAU, but he can’t remember meeting you before you officially transferred. It had been around the time he turned 30, and they went to San Francisco to investigate a Zodiac copycat. You had shown up an hour and a half early to your interview, having already ingested four cups of coffee. Spencer had been so nervous around you, considering that you were going to be a new addition to his team. He didn’t like change—he still doesn’t. But, the moment your jittery hands slipped away from your empty mug, effectively causing it to shatter, you had laughed and said, ‘oh well.’ Right then was when he felt a certain tug in his heart, but he chose to ignore it.

“Spencer, I—I need to take a break. It’s too much. I don’t know if I can tell you about it,” you choked out a sigh, trying to fight back more tears, “Jaime ... when, we found him ... he-he was scattered. Everywhere.” The man across from you snaps from his memory induced haze while rushing over to you and wrapping his arms around your trembling frame. Against his chest, you feel extraordinarily fragile, almost as if he squeezes too hard, you’ll crumble into dust.

Oh, how ironic role reversal truly is.

Spencer never would’ve pictured himself giving solace to someone in his apartment at the wee hours of the morning. However, he finds it much more rewarding than he previously imagined it to be. As he cradles your body in his hold, Spencer’s insides churn in the same way they had when he first laid his eyes on you. Maybe—just maybe—there was a small part of him that had fallen in love with you first. “[Y/N],” he murmurs, “it’s okay. We can be done for tonight.”

Sniffling, you move to get out of your chair, but to Spencer’s surprise, you never let go of his forearm. He walks next to you, leading you past his guest bedroom and to his personal room. Halting just before the threshold of his door, you tighten your grasp, pulling him to stop alongside you. “Spencer,” you start, a wave of uncertainty welling in your voice, “what are you doing?”

“I-I want you to sleep with me tonight. You know—just in case one of us has another nightmare.” A sheepish look defines his features as he scratches the back of his neck. Waiting for your response feels like wading through a pool made of peanut butter. The silence is thick as you think about the meaning of his gesture. It seems simple—merely a warm sentiment shared between two friends who agreed to stay with each other in their separate times of need. Nothing less, nothing more. 

However, your heart’s unabating pounding tells a different story. It pleads with every nerve ending in your body to let go, but your brain won’t allow it. Glancing up at Spencer, your shoulders tense and you take a hesitant step away from him. Terror floods your veins, sending cold blood coursing through you. Chills travel endlessly down your spine as you back into a wall. Thoughts of Maeve, thoughts of Jaime, thoughts of Spencer—the cloud your vision, distorting it. You feel as though you’re staring out of a fish-eyed lens. Trying to take deep breaths is no longer working because your throat has closed in on itself. Putting your hands out to keep him at a distance, you watch them shake like they’ve been dipped in ice water. Spencer’s voice echoes in your ears and makes you want to vomit.

“I ca-can’t. No,” you mumble through choppy breathing, “it’s no-not fair.” Truthfully, you have no idea what you’re saying. Words slip from your lips carelessly as you fumble with the doorknob, shutting the plank of wood in Spencer’s face. When you reach the sanctuary that is his guest room, you allow yourself to sink to the floor, a steady flow of tears cascading down your cheeks.

The trajectory of your night had plummeted. Never in your life had you expected to be sobbing in your coworker—who you just so happen to be in love with’s—apartment. However, the reality of the situation you had created sets in quicker than you hope. The soft gleam of the lamp next to the mattress in enough to put you to sleep in your position, and you feel as though you’ve been transported. You’ve gone back in time only to be sitting on the outside once again, but this time, you had done it to yourself. Spencer hadn’t shied away from you, instead, he opened up to you—offered you comfort, and you pushed him away. Just like he’d done to you five months ago.

Being alone is much different than feeling lonely. Being alone is more intense, more daunting. Currently, you’re a heavy mixture of both. A puddle of heartache and misery that—with one sliver of sunlight—could evaporate into thin air. As you ponder the contrast between the two ideas, you unknowingly plunge into a land of darkness and horror. Dreamscapes don’t treat you well tonight, and despite your earlier apprehension, you unconsciously wonder if Spencer’s arms around your nightmare-battered frame would ease the pain.

────

A knock to the tune of ‘Shave and a Haircut’ jerks you from your slumber with an unceremonious snort. Throbbing pain shoots through each part of your body as you stretch your cramped limbs. Sleeping curled into a ball while leaning back on a door was evidently not going to aid in keeping you young and limber. Stand up, you hear your bones crack and pop, and you register the drool that had pooled onto your bare knee. With a grimace, you wipe it off and open the door.

Spencer stares down at you, concern clear in his gaze. His chestnut orbs rake over you, and his mind doesn’t attempt to compare you to the woman he was once in love with. It’s at this moment, at 7:29AM on a Thursday morning in October, where he realizes that you are you and only you. Spencer drinks in the sight of your plush lips, your vibrant eyes, and the beauty held within your brain with a newfound fire in the pit of his stomach. 

“Uh, Garcia asked us to help her unload her groceries for her Day of the Dead party this weekend.” Spencer coughs, casting his gaze to the wall behind you, “She said she should be home from the market in an hour.” Your coworker seems to be acting like last night never happened, his normal demeanor appearing like a rabbit being plucked from a hat. While gently tucking your previous panic attack away in your mind, you glance at him with a reluctant smile. Deciding to follow suit, you choose to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach for the time being.

With a scoff, you shake you head, “What? Morgan was out of commission this fine morning?” He laughs at your remark, retreating further into his hallway. “Let me take a shower, and I’ll be ready to go, okay?”

Spencer nods and waits for you to close the bedroom door before making his way to his living room. The sun peeks through his sheer curtains, warming his feet as they sit in its gentle rays. While sitting on his couch, he runs his fingers over the violet afghan that Garcia had knit him over two years ago. His thoughts meander through memory after memory—none of them are lucid enough to elicit any type of reaction, but each and every one is the slightest bit painful.

First, he thinks of you. Although he doesn’t remember you consulting on a child murder case, he does recall the events that came after you had dropped your coffee mug. He had stared at you for a long while, just watching as you cleaned up the mess whilst humming along to a song he didn’t recognize. His heart rampaged in his chest, the constant thrumming becoming too much for him to handle. Spencer had stood up quickly, almost knocking over his chair in the process, and he does the same now—without the added mess of toppling his couch over.

As he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, he spots various pictures of Maeve that his mind captured unintentionally. She smiles at him, and it seems encouraging—like she’s telling him personally to move on. Clawing at his cheekbones, he drags his fingers along the expanse of his skin, creating vicious red lines. He’s done so well for the past five months, being that his once daily nightmares have lessened to be sporadic and intermittent. However now, Spencer can’t seem to get the though of her out of his head. Over and over again, he rubs at his cheeks, causing them to burn, itch, sting—.

“Spencer, I’m ready if—are you okay?” Your voice sounds from around the corner, stopping his hands in their tracks. Furrowing your brow, you walk over to him, and gesture for him to take a seat on the plush cushions. His face still tingles from the torture it was subjected to, and the feeling intensifies when he realizes that your gaze isn’t going to go away any time soon.

Sighing, Spencer replies, “I’m fine, but we should go, [Y/N]. Garcia’s probably waiting for us.”

“Right.”

Following him out of his apartment and into the cool, Virginia air, you sniff as the wind nips at your nose. Spencer’s Volvo chirps as it’s brought to life for the first time in about a week. Noticing his reproachful stare, you register the dense sheets of ice coating the previously vibrant sky blue paint with a laugh. He pouts while jiggling his handle, not enjoying your blatant amusement. Ignoring his glare, you crack open his car door whilst blowing another cloud into the sky.

“I didn’t think it would be this cold,” he mumbled, rubbing his arms, “it’s only October and it’s freezing outside.” 

Humming an acknowledgement, you shift your eyes to analyze the intricate ice patterns that had formed on his windows. The car rumbles as it starts, similar to a cat’s purr. It’s a comforting sound—something to fill the somewhat awkward silence. As soon as Spencer turns the key in the ignition, you’re searching for a radio station to perforate the quietude, and much to your chagrin, the only music that plays from his speakers is Chopin. The composer brings back the bitter memory of what you had said to him so long ago.

You had meant what you said. You truly would wait for him until time itself no longer existed. However, listening Nocturne in E Flat Major Op. 9 No. 2 now ... it makes you feel sick. Your stomach froths against your insides like an angry ocean beating against the base of a lighthouse. Staring out at the expanse of the highway, you attempt to distract yourself by counting deserted construction sites on the side of the road. By the time Spencer parked in front of Penelope’s building, you had reached 26.

Different hues of orange and purple virtually punch you in the face as the woman you two have come all this way to help stands outside her door with countless bags at her feet. Her smile sends hot waves of cheer surging through your veins. As she calls you over, you find yourself becoming less focused on Spencer and more on the plastic skeleton hanging from her window by a single hand. Laughter spills from your body when Penelope sulks at your amusement.

“So, uh, does that gentleman have a name, Pen?” Your tone is lighthearted, but a scowl is still etched into her usually jolly appearance. Glancing from her Halloween decorations to her guests, Penelope’es sour look eventually dissipates. 

With a harrumph, she answers, “I like to call him Fabio. I think it works nicely with Sergio.” Holding back an outburst, you slap a hand over your mouth. Garcia’s presence proves to be just the thing you need to forget about Spencer, even if he’s right behind you. “Okay, okay—ha ha, very funny, [Y/N]—but at least laugh while you’re taking as many grocery bags as you can upstairs. You, too, Boy Wonder—this is a team effort.”

You and Spencer collect paper bag after paper bag until both of your arms are full of various party foods. Garcia grins at the two of you with a clap of her empty hands. Cocking a brow, you shoot an accusatory glare at your closest colleague. However, before you’re able to get a word out, she begins to usher the two of you up to her apartment.

“If this is a team effort, then why aren’t you doing any work?” Spencer grunts, coming very close to letting the bag with the eggs slip from his grasp.

“I am working,” Garcia chides as she walks up the last few steps, “someone had to be in charge of opening the door, and that someone just so happened to be me. So, don’t drop the eggs, Genius.” You start to laugh, but the sound is caught in your throat as you marvel at the sight of her altar.

Pinks and oranges and light blues explode in your face as you gape in awe. Countless pictures already stood on different tiers of the shrine. Recognizing them, your bottom lip quivers at the photographs she had placed. Each face that stares back at you is a victim of a case that had been previously closed. Feeling a gentle pressure on your shoulders, you reach up to grab Garcia’s newly manicured hand. She squeezes and a sniffle can be heard from behind you. Spencer joins the two of you, standing on your right. The atmosphere, although containing a heavy layer of sorrow, is strangely peaceful.

Turning, you meet Garcia’s gaze with a smile. “Pen,” you murmur, “it’s gorgeous.”

“You think so?” Her voice trembles a bit.

“Absolutely.”

Wiping the tears that had inevitably fallen from her eyes, Penelope lets a small giggle escape her. “God—I wasn’t planning on crying today. I wanted to go scary this Halloween, and since we’re officially off for two weeks, I thought I would have plenty of time to make everything super terrifying. But, I told JJ and she laughed at me and said I didn’t have a scary bone in my body.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Spencer interjects while shoving food into the fridge, “you probably do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The building blocks of the human personality are complex, varied, and multi-faceted. It's essential to one's mental health to want to express these hidden personalities, and it's a fact of nature that everybody has one—even me.” You chortle at Garcia’s intrigue as she fawns over the doctor for a few moments. He cocks a brow while turning his gaze back to you. “What’s so funny, [Y/N]?”

With a chuckle, you reply, “I’m not sure you should be talking up your dark side when it’s really just a bad Clint Eastwood impression.” The interaction is still the slightest bit uncomfortable as Spencer’s deadpan stare bores into your face. Garcia’s gaze flits between the two of you, worry painted across her features.

“So ...” she begins warily, attempting to navigate the residual tension left from last night, “Clint Eastwood, huh?”

────

Night befalls the both of you once more as you sit in silence in Spencer’s living room. His eyes are racing down one of the last pages of East of Eden, and you recognize it from the first time you were invited into his apartment. As he curls further into himself, you feel a sharp pain and look back down to be met with blood pouring from your finger. The tomatoes you had been chopping are going to have to wait. Rushing to the sink, you begin to rinse your wound, cleaning it with cool water whilst muttering various profanities under your breath.

Spencer forces himself to ignore your winces and harsh intakes of breath and continues to read. Truthfully, he’s jumped so far over the hurdle that was last night that by now, it’s merely a distant memory. His therapist—one that you recommended—had been educating him on how to move on from the past and forgive himself. He’s been trying to give you space to do the same. Spencer aches to help you clean up, to chop vegetables, and to do mundane things with you, but he thinks it’s more important that you know that he’s willing and able to give you the room you need to heal. Everyone needs time for themselves. At least, that’s what his therapist said.

“Spencer?” Your voice echoes in the quietude that his apartment provides. Waves of relief crash into him, and it feels as though he’s the embodiment of a shipwreck. After a few moments of still air, you speak again. “Can you ... can you come help me, please?”

Those are the words he needed so desperately to hear. Sure, they didn’t mean anything in this context, but his imagination urges him to go further with the interaction. It pushes him forward, pleading with him to act. He yearns to talk to you; he wants to acknowledge the amount of time you’ve been pining him. He’s beyond ready to move ahead to a new horizon made especially for you two.

When he reaches the counter top, he glances down at the viscid liquid still turning the water an unnerving shade of dark pink. Without thinking, he digs in a cabinet that you thought held wine glasses, but apparently held an extremely large first aid kit. You bite your tongue, having to resist the impulse to tease him about it. Yes, it would’ve been acceptable a week ago, but now, you’re not entirely certain how to act around him. Your panic attack, although lasting for only a few minutes, had felt like a lifetime. And, no matter how hard you had tried throughout the day to forget—you came to the conclusion that not even Penelope’s sunny disposition could break up the storm that clouded your mind.

As Spencer wraps yet another strip of gauze around your cut, you find him to be unexpectedly dexterous. Staring at his furrowed brow, you’re able to see a little part of his tongue that sticks out from between his lips. Shattering the sheet of silence that had settled over the two of you, you murmur, “You’re surprisingly good at this.”

“Bandaging people up or being quiet?” He asked, a slight air of humor in his tone, “Because, I’ve pretty much mastered both.”

Soft laughter sounds, and Spencer allows his eyes to graze over your features. When your gazes meet, you don’t make any attempts to break the contact. It’s refreshing—the feeling of falling in love with someone all over again. His pupils are practically as big as saucers as he stares back at you with an unfamiliar intensity. Although this is what you’ve always wanted, the idea of getting choked up and having another panic attack terrifies you. With a cough, you look down at your mismatched sock-clad feet, and the man crouched in front of you turns his attention back to your injury.

“So,” you start after a long period of quietude, “I heard Garcia’s making that altar come one, come all, and she told everyone to bring a picture to put on it.” Your words, albeit sounding like an ordinary statement, are more of a question. Spencer glances back up at you, his eyes glazed over with caution. “Are you gonna bring Maeve?”

Spencer doesn’t detect anything other than sadness in your voice. However, it’s not the type of sadness he expects. The emotion makes his heart wrench in his chest because it reminds him of himself from five months ago. So in love, yet in such, unimaginable pain. He nods, not finding it in himself to look up at you. Placing the last piece of gauze tape on the dressing, Spencer stands from his spot on the floor. In that moment, everything feels a little too real.

Taking a step back, he seems as though he’s about to head back to the living room, but he stop to say, “We should probably leave in about thirty minutes ... Garcia said she wanted everyone there by ten.” You acknowledge him with a tight lipped smile, turning back to dicing your tomatoes and green onions, being careful to work around your damaged finger. However, his presence still looms behind you; you can almost hear his desire to flip your question around. Without looking at him, you nod while placing your vegetable mixture into Spencer’s blender.

Before activating the blades, you pause, giving him an opportunity to shatter you. “[Y/N] ...” he trails off, uncertain as to whether he should ask the question or not, “are you—are you bringing Jaime.”

“Yeah,” you say, “Jaime and my mom.”

Finally, a comfortable silence engulfs the space between you both. Spencer retreats back to the couch, discarding East of Eden and replacing it with a Russian classic that you couldn’t make out. The only sound is that of the mechanical whirring of the blender as you finish up your salsa for Garcia’s party. In the midst of the quiet, your mind wanders from topic to topic and it makes your heart pound—granted, half of the thoughts are of Spencer. Homemade movies play on a loop in front of you as you pour over your concoction. 

It’s a few Halloweens in the future. You and Spencer are living together. You’re hanging up fake cobwebs while he does a bad job at trying to scare you with his Frankenstein’s monster mask. Joking, you mention that you hated reading Frankenstein in high school, and he retorts with a quip about your taste in books. The night is still fairly young, but the stars are clear in the sky. He gives up attempting to frighten you and comes over to the window where you’re staring up at the cloudless infinity. Spencer rambles on about different constellations and their histories, but all you can think about is him. The way his eyes mirror the mystery of the darkness above you, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips after a particularly interesting tidbit, the way he looks at you with nothing but pure adoration in his gaze. You’re in love with him. You’ve been in love with him.

“I’ll grab my coat, and you can grab the keys and get the car started. Okay, [Y/N]?” Snapping you from your daydream, is his voice. It’s evident that he’s been talking for quite some time. It’s also evident that you haven’t been paying attention. “Have you listened to anything I’ve said? We’re already late!” The frantic, flustered doctor scurries around his apartment, cleaning things to calm his nerves. Even before Maeve’s death, you had known that Spencer was a stress cleaner. Whenever a phone call came about his mother, he would dutifully straighten every open desk he could before Hotch called for him to stop.

“Yes, Doc. Grab keys. Get car started. I’m on my way, right now.” You pause, almost forgetting about your hard work, “Also, Spencer—my salsa’s on the second shelf in the fridge!” You hear him mutter an exasperated, “salsa?” before closing the door.

Unlocking his car and diving into the driver’s seat, you immediately turn off the radio to sit in complete silence. For once, it is a comforting feeling. As you mull over certain ideas, one jumps out at you in particular. Both the devil and the angel on your shoulders urge you to mention your panic attack, and you’re forced to make an executive decision—confront Spencer or sweep the incident under the rug. 

The sound of ice clattering against the concrete alerts you to the man’s presence. Glancing over at him, you turn the key in the ignition, allowing the cold fingers of fall to slither up your back once more. With a shiver, Spencer sends you a confused glare, making an effort to start the car by himself, but you smack his hand away. An unknown source of power compels you to push forward, to keep going.

“[Y/N], what’s going—?”

“I know that you already know, but I have to say it. Out loud and in person.”

“[Y/N]—.”

“Spencer,” you collect both breath and courage before barging ahead, “I’m in love with you. I fell for you three months after I joined the team. I didn’t know if-if it was just a stupid crush or not, so I decided to ignore it the best I could.” Tears muddle your vision, and you reach up to wipe them away even though they haven’t fallen yet. Just barely, you see Spencer restrain himself from touching you. A sob is wrenched from the deepest part of your body, but you choose to continue. “And then—and then, you found Maeve and you were so happy. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be ... to be happy. But, God—,” a wail escapes your throat as it threatens to close in on itself, “I’m so selfish. I wanted you to be happy with me!”

Spencer feels numb as he takes in the severity of your confession. Watching your body fold and crumple in front of him freezes him like liquid nitrogen. With a single puff of air, he would fragment into millions of pieces. As you try to hide your face, he sees your hands tremble. He wants to help you, but he doesn’t know how. Should he cry with you, should he hug you, should he stay silent? Too many thoughts race through his brain. The big cogs steam and smoke as they are overworked, attempting to come up with too many solutions at once. He manages to choke out one word. Two syllables. But, it’s the question that needed to be answered.

“Really?”

With a strangled cry, you nod, “It-it’s true. I’ve lo-loved you ever since I got—got to know you.” Another sob is ripped from your chest as it heaves with exhaustion. You feel like vomiting. At this point, everything is nauseating. Your fingers dance over lips as you’re debating whether or not to press on. “And ... and even if you don’t feel the same—I’m willing to accept it. Because, I love you, and I want you to be happy. With me or without.”

He hums. It is neutral, neither bad nor good. Spencer Reid—teenage college graduate, human encyclopedia, objectively the smartest man in the FBI—is at a loss for words. You love him. He knew that. He knows that. But now, everything is real. Colors burst at the edges of his eyes, and his view of you is flooded with light. His heart pounds wildly against his sternum; it’s powerful enough to feel in his stomach. Spencer does what comes naturally to him. For once, he follows his heart instead of his head.

His head shrieks that this—what he’s about to do—is a terrible, no good, very bad idea. But, his heart screams the opposite. His heart shoves him forward and tells him to cup your face in his hands. Brushing over your tear stained cheeks, he thinks back to yesterday morning, when he woke you and asked about your nightmare. Staring into your eyes, he begs you to let go, just as you had begged him so long ago. Leaning forward, he tells you that he will always be here for you. Kissing you, he lets you know that he has moved on.

It takes a moment for you two respond, but once you do, the atmosphere surrounding you two is on fire. Spencer’s touch is gentle and rough simultaneously as your lips move together with a shared fervor. His fingers move to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss while you tangle your hands into his hair and tug. A mixture of tears make him taste salty, but the water is seemingly burned away by the heat that radiates between the two of you. Although you two have found each other, nothing disappears. Nightmares will not go away, memories will still invade supposedly healthy headspaces, discovery will not change the past.

However, in this moment, everything is the right amount of real.

The desperate need to breathe tears you apart, but neither of you move far. Spencer’s forehead rests on yours, and he leans in to touch his your noses together. In his mind, nothing is moving; it is still, and it is exactly what he needs. Your fingers smooth different patterns into his scalp as you try to catch up to your own heart.

“We’re so late,” your hoarse whisper slices through the quiet. Glancing at the clock, cerulean numbers blink back at you. 10:53PM—almost an hour late. Knowing Garcia, she’s waiting to put pictures on the altar until you two arrive. Her kindness sometimes goes unrecognized, but she doesn’t do it because it’s what looks good—she does it because it’s what’s right.

The picture of Jaime in your pocket suddenly feels like it’s searing through the fabric, and remorse courses through you as you close your eyes. Spencer holds back laughter, but when he backs away and notices the regret painted over your features, he grows solemn. Grabbing your hands that are still placed on the back of his head, he pulls them off and cradles them to his chest.

“Look at me, [Y/N],” his voice cracks, but the authority is undeniable. You shift your gaze to him, and you are captivated by the way his eyes resemble the inky blackness that lay millions of miles above your heads. Constellations shimmer in his hazel orbs. “Tonight, we say goodbye. No more compartmentalization, no more fear, no more guilt. Are you ready?”

With a quivering smile, you murmur, “More than.” 

The Volvo purrs to life—a symbol of not only the past but new beginnings as well. You’re positive that both you and Spencer look like complete disasters, but not even that fact is able distract you from the feeling of his warm hand atop yours on the gearshift. A dull throb replaces the burning sensation Jaime had ignited earlier. It dissipates the longer you drive until it’s merely a tingle. A goodbye will be shared between two people and two memories because waiting for those who will never come back doesn’t serve as a surrogate for real love.

It is difficult to say goodbye, but it is necessary.

It is difficult, but it is love. And, you have waited long enough.

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[kunoichihatake]

Drive Me Crazy (Minato x reader)

A/n: thanks for the request! my requests are currently open so feel free to send me prompts or other requests 🤩

Prompt: “can i pls have prompt #5 “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.” with Minato & a Tsundere reader? thanks so much♡︎ ily”

Pairing: Minato Namikaze x reader

Words: 1k+

Warnings: none

Masterlist

“Here’s your check, sir,” the waiter came by, handing Minato a small black booklet. Minato thanked him politely, and the waiter gave a small bow and walked away. The two of you had just finished dinner and dessert at the nicest steakhouse in town -- “My treat,” Minato said, “for agreeing to a third date with me.” You toyed with your napkin as Minato pulled out his wallet to pay, not meeting his eyes when he looked up questioningly.

“Are you alright, y/n?” You met his gaze, his blue eyes sparkling with concern, and immediately snapped your eyes away, cheeks burning.

“I’m fine.” Those damn eyes. The soft, loving looks Minato gave you always made you blush like a schoolgirl, and god, did you hate it. I’m not some weak pansy, I’m a full-fledged jonin, damn it!

Minato looked concerned, but merely gave a soft smile as he closed the booklet -- leaving no less than a 20 percent tip, you were sure. He’s so generous...damn it, I’m blushing again.

“Are you ready to go?” Minato asked politely, and you nodded, still not meeting his gaze. It was only 8 pm, and you didn’t particularly want to go home yet, but you weren’t about to say that. Minato stood up from the table and you followed his lead, walking out of the restaurant. You wanted to reach for his hand, but held back, clenching and unclenching your hands into fists to get rid of the sappy feeling. You always hated the trope of the feeble woman swooning over the strong, sexy man, and refused to fall into it. He is strong and sexy though… you felt yourself grow flustered again, and pushed the thoughts out of your head.

Once you were just outside the restaurant, Minato paused, and turned to you. “I actually had something in mind for after dinner, but if you want to go home I understand.” You stared down at the ground, not trusting yourself to look into his gorgeous face without betraying your feelings.

“No, it’s fine, we can go wherever,” you said, trying to will your heart to stop pounding in your chest. Minato looked concerned, but nodded anyway. He reached gently for your hand, sweaty and balled up in a fist.

“Do you mind if I hold your hand?” You nodded and gulped, not trusting yourself to speak, and he gently took your hand in his, seeming not to notice how sweaty and clenched it was. His hands are so soft...wow. And of course mine are sweaty and gross. You fought the urge to pull your hand away and wipe it furiously on your clothes, and instead let him continue to hold your hand lightly as you walked.

“It’s nothing too special, but I thought I’d show you one of my favorite spots,” he said, gently guiding you down the streets of Konoha, not walking too fast or too slow. “I go here a lot when I want to think or just be by myself.” You felt your heartbeat begin to pick up again. The two of you walked a few more minutes until you found yourself at a dock overlooking a large body of water in which the reflection of the moon shone brightly. The dock was small, only a few feet wide and just long enough to project a few feet out into the still, clear water. Minato let go of your hand and sat down cross-legged on the dock. He patted the spot next to him, looking up at you with a bright smile. For anyone else, you would have refused to sit on the ground like an animal, but for Minato...you sat down gently next to him, and he reached out to take your hand once more. Shit, I haven’t even wiped the sweat off yet...he must think I’m gross.

Minato sighed, looking out at the water, and you dared to sneak a glimpse at his face. He was beautiful, his bright yellow hair complementing his blue eyes perfectly, and his skin was flawless. I bet his face is as soft as his hands.

“You know, I really wonder sometimes why Kushina set us up,” Minato said, still staring out at the water. “She said you were really into me, but sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.” You snapped your head up to look at his face, and Minato turned his head back to you, your eyes meeting his deep blue ones. You felt your face grow almost unbearably warm, and your hands shook.

“I-I don’t hate you, Minato,” you managed, unable to pull your eyes away from his own despite the pounding it caused in your chest.

“Then why do you never look at me?” he said, almost whispering, and you saw a touch of pain in his eyes. I’m hurting him. What is wrong with me?

“It’s just...you make me too damn nervous, okay?” you said, starting quietly but working your voice almost up to a shout. Minato looked taken aback, but his eyes sparkled. “You’re just so cute and sweet and perfect and it drives me nuts! I can’t even look at you without feeling like my heart is gonna explode!” You turned your head away, feeling shaky. I can’t believe I just said that. Holy shit.

You felt Minato let go of your hand, but before you had time to panic, he placed his hand under your chin and gently pulled your face to meet his in a gentle kiss. He’s kissing me. It was as magical as you’d dreamed, and you shut your eyes to savor the moment. He tasted sweet, and his lips melted against yours softly, without being demanding -- though you felt him holding back, staying gentle with you. After a moment, he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead softly against yours.

“I’m glad you feel the same way I do,” he breathed, and you opened your eyes to stare into his. “You’re so damn cute it drives me insane.” You smiled widely, ignoring how the pounding in your chest resonated through your whole body and leaning in to kiss him again.

#hehe i hope u enjoyed it! #minato is so soft im love him 🥺 #minato x reader #minato namikaze #minato namikaze x reader #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto fanfic #my fics