#I’m not sure anything could placate me rn

[bigtreefest]

If you guys thought I was angry on Tuesday when I came in at 5 am for a 7 am synthesis, you should know I’m FUCKING PEEVED that today’s was at 5 am and I came in at 6 (assuming a 7am synthesis as was noted on the production calendar) and once again, NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT THE TIME CHANGE 😡🤬

[waveypedia]

Leaving the Nest

Companion piece to The Family We Make (can be read in any order)

Ao3

Granny’s posture is as immaculate as always, but her knuckles grip the pan just a little too tight. To an outsider, she would seem the perfect picture of serenity, but Webby knows the tells that give her away too well.

Of course she does. Granny is Webby’s favorite person in the entire world.

Webby’s family has grown and grown over the last few years, and she wouldn’t trade that for the world. But if it came down to it, Granny is more her family than anyone else. Even the boys. Even Dad.

“Dear, I think we should talk about… the other day,” Granny trails off, awkward and lame. It would be disorienting to see Granny, normally so put-together and articulate, struggling with words. But a couple days ago, Webby saw her chained and captured, crying and beaten, forced to spill her darkest secrets and then knocked out. Manipulated. Nothing Granny does can faze her in quite the same way.

Webby takes a deep breath. “I… I think so too,” she says. “But, honestly, I don’t have anything to say. You’re my Granny.”

Granny’s shoulders slump in relief before she catches herself, her decades of SHUSH training snapping in, and she reorients herself to her ever-present poker face. 

“I’m not, you know,” Granny says quietly, her voice full of shame. Webby stiffens, and glances away before Granny can see the tears pooling in her eyes. “I- I stole you from a SHUSH compound. The photos you have of your parents were a lie. Just another lie among many.”

“I don’t care,” Webby snaps, with more anger in her voice than she intended. But as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she realizes that she truly does feel that anger. Not towards Granny herself, but towards the notion that Granny isn’t her grandmother.

“You’re my grandmother,” Webby declares passionately. “I don’t care if you’re not related to me. I don’t care if I’m a clone of Dad. You stole me from a FOWL compound because you cared about me from the moment we met. You gave up your entire life and a career you’d been working towards for decades for me. You raised me. You locked yourself in the mansion to keep me safe. You’re my grandmother.”

“I’m happy to hear that, dear,” Granny says in the softest of whispers. “More than you could ever know.” Webby thinks she hears Granny’s voice catch, but she can’t be certain. 

“But I lied to you, even after I promised I wouldn’t,” Granny continues, her tone more subdued. She crosses her hands in her lap, making a controlled effort to smooth them out. “You have every right to be angry with me.”

Webby reaches forward and takes her grandmother’s hand in both of hers. “I do,” she agrees. Granny’s head snaps up and she stares at Webby, eyes wide. Webby shrugs nonchalantly, shoulders loose, emulating Louie’s calculated facade of easy calm without realizing it. “But that’s not the kind of person I am, Granny.”

Webby glances away, pursuing her lips. She can’t bear to watch Granny’s face twist in pain. “I… I am frustrated that you lied to me and broke your promise,” she says slowly, haltingly, choosing her words carefully. She’s walking a thin line, basically a tightrope with no net, of expressing her feelings and not upsetting her Granny. “Just don’t do it again, please.”

Granny’s face softens. “Of course, Webby dear. No more secrets.” 

She reaches out to hug Webby, and Webby obliges, but she says stiff. “That’s what you said last time,” Webby mutters into Granny’s shoulder. Her words are almost too soft to be heard, but judging by the way Granny stiffens, she does.

Granny pulls back, her hands still on Webby’s shoulders. She opens her mouth a few times, frantically searching for words, some kind of placating promise that she didn’t already break.

 “You’re right. Of course,” Granny acquiesces at last, hanging her head. Strands of grey hair drip out of her bun by the pull of gravity. Webby swallows thickly, bile pooling in her throat. Granny is reacting perfectly, yet all she does is remind Webby of when they were stuck together in a dark FOWL interrogation room, a wall of pain and deception painfully thick between them.

Webby reaches out a small hand to touch Granny’s shoulder. “Granny, please,” she whispers. She’s not sure if Granny understands the true meaning behind her plea in its entirety, but she pulls herself back together nonetheless. For a few minutes, silence hangs between them. It’s not a comfortable silence, but it’s not stifling, either. It’s just… anticipatory.

“I can’t simply promise that I won’t lie to you anymore,” Granny says at last. Her voice is quiet and subdued, but honest and vulnerable. It’s open in a way Granny rarely is. “But I will do better from now on. I’ll prove my sentiments through actions, not empty promises.”

Webby smiles gratefully. It’s not her usual wide, face-splitting grin, but it’s soft and vulnerable, with layers and meaning behind it. “Thanks. I… I want to know things. About SHUSH. Classified things. The parts of my past you could never tell me, and new information, too.”

Granny’s gaze shoots away. “I-I can’t,” she replies immediately, and Webby’s heart drops. It must show in her face, because Granny’s own twists with guilt. 

“I- Well- I suppose I did just promise to, didn’t I,” Granny says, half to herself, with a small chuckle. There’s little humor behind it, but it’s fond. “I will do my best, Webbigail. But please understand that there is some SHUSH information that is simply beyond my classification to give you.”

“I understand,” Webby says simply. “But the information you can give me… I want to know, Granny.”

Granny’s fists clench and unclench in her lap. Webby knows how uncomfortable and out of her depth she must feel. She protected Webby with her life for years by hiding these secrets, and it takes time to undo such habits. But she’s trying, and that’s all that Webby cares about. 

“Do you remember the day I met the boys?” Webby asks, her voice lighter and more casual than she feels. There’s a pit of fear steadily growing in her stomach, but her voice is blessedly steady. 

Granny’s smile is small but fond. “You snuck out,” she replies, a hint of reproach in her voice, but no malice. It’s a wound long since healed, leaving only a soft scar as a reminder that it existed at all. “You ignored my number one rule and left the mansion for the very first time.”

“Yeah, and it was new and scary,” Webby replies lightly, ignoring the jab. “But you let me go, because you knew it was for the best. Because I was growing up.”

“Because Mr. McDuck could keep you safe,” Granny adds pointedly, but she’s smiling, if a bit pained.

“Yeah, and he did! I’m fine, Granny. Besides, I can keep myself safe.”

“Tell that to the you that landed yourself in FOWL headquarters with all your allies captured and no real clue what was in store for you,” Granny quips. “My worst nightmare, come alive right in front of my eyes.”

“I’m sorry,” Webby mutters, dropping her gaze to her feet. “But hey, if you’d told me the truth, maybe I wouldn’t have been so misinformed.”

Granny dips her head. “You make a good point. I concede that one.”

“Anyway, that’s just what this is like,” Webby continues. “It’s a big change. But it’s a necessary one. I’m ready for this, Granny.  You are too. And in time, this’ll feel completely normal, and we’ll have forgotten what it was like to live like we are.”

Granny is silent for a few moments. Webby glances up, nervous, only to find Granny smiling proudly, and wiping a small tear away under her glasses.

“Webby, dear, you are so wise,” she says, her voice thick. Webby’s heart clenches. “Aren’t I the one supposed to give you the deep, heartfelt talks and inspire you, and not the other way around?”

Webby gives her a small smile. “You’ve done it before, Granny. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Granny sniffles rather uncharacteristically. Without warning, she lunges forward and scoops Webby up in a tight hug. “Oh, my dear,” Granny says, her voice choked with tears. “You are just lovely, you know that? How did I ever get so lucky to have you for a granddaughter?”

“Well, it’s partly because of you,” Webby says, smiling into her grandmother’s back. “You raised me.”

Granny nods into Webby’s shoulder. “And it was lovely.”

When Granny finally pulls back, she tugs Webby back to face her, her hands on Webby’s shoulders. “You’re growing up,” she says thickly. “Oh, Webbigail, I am so proud of you.”

Webby beams at her grandmother. “I’m proud of you, too.”

“Oh,” Granny says thickly, and hugs her again.

~

HEY REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I WOULD WRITE THE CONVERSATION WITH WEBBY AND BEAKLEY WELL HERE IT IS :D (rip my poor math homework i’ll be up all night finishing that ugh)

i wrote this in like,, 45 minutes because i had to get the few sentences i was thinking about down before i forgot them and just,, kept going lmao. rip the webby & lena convo story i’ve been chipping away at that is going absolutely nowhere rn. i’ll get to it

webby and beakley’s relationship is SO important to me. beakley literally gave up everything for webby. it’s so obvious how much beakley cares about her, but also,,, they had this entire episode about trusting each other and then beakley promises not to keep any more secrets from webby and she has absolutely zero intention of keeping it. that always gets me. especially since webby is one of the most trusting characters of all time and would never doubt her grandmother of all people after they made up. i’m not salting on beakley or anything, but it’s very interesting to think about going forward since beakley will obviously try to do better, especially once the major factor keeping her quiet is gone, but she really doesn’t have a leg to stand on since she broke her promise. definitely an interesting concept we should talk about more

we talk a lot about how scrooge never apologized to webby after telling her she wasn’t family in last crash of the sunchaser and she immediately forgave him. scrooge def should’ve apologized but it’s interesting to note that webby basically can’t and won’t hold a grudge for the life of her, at least when it comes to the people she cares about (she definitely can with goldie DJDFKLSLDF). it’s sweet. i imagine beakley feels incredibly guilty after the finale but webby’s just ready to move on and to enter a new chapter of their lives where they’re completely honest and open with each other. i don’t imagine she’s not upset at the deception, but she’s not mad.

also man that interrogation scene? that probably traumatized webby. man. what a shitty situation to be in i can’t even imagine.

beakley and webby’s relationship will always mean the world to me, especially with the added context of their backstory. beakley literally saw one (1) baby and was like i’m about to end this man’s (me) whole career LMAO. it’s incredible.

[theelvenhaven]

Keep your hands to yourself

Caranthir x Reader

2.4k words

Wrote this in January and wanted to share now as a bonus since things are going so slow rn with requests.

Celegorm and Curufin know JUST how to get under their brothers skin! This time they decide to do it through you, but Caranthir has little to no tolerance when their little game involves you.

                                                  ❊❊⚜❊❊

Caranthir kept his hand on your lower back standing close to you. A goblet of wine in both of your hands and both dressed exquisitely for tonight's event in Thargelion. His long black hair draped down his black clad back of his velvet robes. Rich silver embroidery on the hems of his robes, with a beautiful burgundy sateen tunic that framed his neck and jaw line beautifully.

His gray eyes intense but relaxed... gazing down at you. Admiring your beauty. Your long hair intricately put up in a bun, pins with gems of starlight on them were strew in your beautiful hair. A gown of crushed burgundy velvet hugged your figure alluringly... A v - cut neckline tastefully exposing your delicate collarbones and the starlight gem necklace resting there.

If Caranthir trailed his finger tips a little higher and over the beaded work he'd get a small taste of your perfect bare back exposed in the cut out. And Eru how he admired the way the gown he embroidered and beaded for you looked on you. He was hardly paying attention to the councilman before you both.

He hardly even heard a word he spoke, though he suspected what it was about. Though the councilman wasn't foolish enough to repeat what he said. Not wanting to sour the Lord's seemingly quiet mood. With Caranthir as your husband, you knew this was his pleasant mood. And in private, a slightly more cuddly Caranthir would come out.

Even if others thought him to be prickly. When it came to you, he was wrapped around your finger. Especially when it came to your affections. You said something in return to the Councilman who meekly and politely smiled to you, dismissing himself. After a moment you looked up at your handsome husband, a small smile pulling at your lips.

"Yes, mírë?" He asked softly in his deep velvety voice, using his affectionate name for you. It meant jewel, treasure or precious thing. And while you were by no means a physical object to obtain, he viewed you as the most precious thing to him even if he rarely voiced it. It was hard not to know how he felt about you, as Caranthir showed it in many different ways.

"Were you even paying attention?" You asked him, humored by his lack of diplomacy. A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he stared down at your small and delicate form. Your voice drowning out the sounds of this banquet around him, for which he was more than grateful for.

As far as he was concerned these were held for the benefit of traders and perhaps even the morale of his people, the added benefit was seeing you so dressed up. Other than that he hated these, it was just another excuse to hound the already busy Lord on things he was trying to tend too.

"I'm afraid more beautiful sights had my attention..." His fingers on the small of your back began to draw soft circles. Caranthir had spoken to you genuinely, and since being married he was more attentive to complimenting you. Almost as if he was unable to help himself despite how gruff and grumpy he came off. It hadn't even been a year but he was undoubtedly obsessed and enamored with everything about you. Yet in the same breath, he was petrified of you leaving.

Or more importantly being snatched by an enemy be it an orc or an ellon much more charming and with no horrific temper and an oath tying you both to a horrible fate. Quietly he leaned forward, pressing his cold lips to your forehead in a rare public display. Your hand resting on his bicep as he pulled you a little closer, savoring his lingering affections. The surroundings melting away as you couldn't help but be absorbed into him.

Both of you craving every single bit of one another's affections. Soft kisses, warm hands gently caressing one another, arms wrapped around you and laying on is broad chest. The safest place in all of Thargelion for you to be. Before the two of you could descend further into each other- in perhaps making a get away- a voice made your husband tense.

"Brother!" You and Caranthir heard from behind him, a heavy huff leaving his lips and you could feel the glare already forming. You had yet to meet this sibling, very aware he had six brothers. You knew one had passed away, and had the pleasure of meeting Maedhros and Maglor when you two wed. Amrod keeping mostly to himself even when he visited his brother, so you'd seen him but hadn't met. But Celegorm and Curufin... Caranthir seemed determined to keep you hidden from the two of them.

Unceremoniously he pulled away, arm seemingly wrapping tighter around your hip as he faced an almost silver haired ellon and another ellon with black hair like Caranthir's. Even blue in tint in the light just like Cara's. A smirk pulling at their lips as their eyes immediately fell on you, almost making you feel like cornered prey and the sense they thought of you to be beneath them. But Caranthir's aura was undoubtedly protective, easing some of that helplessness you felt.

"Brothers..." He grumbled, hands tightening on his goblet as he brought it up tensely to his lips to drink. Eyes never leaving Celegorm and Curufin, watching them with great intensity even as they shifted to stand comfortably his eyes were trained on them. Celegorm finally brought his eyes from you and back to his brother, the smirk never leaving his lips.

"Shall you introduce us to your beautiful wife? Or shall we do it for you? Considering we weren't invited to the wedding it is the least you could do." Celegorm made sure to put emphasis on complimenting your beauty, and quick to throw out that they had been purposefully overlooked. You only heard another sigh come from Caranthir- who refused to loosen his grip on you.

"This is one of my eldest brothers Celegorm-" Caranthir began in a huffy voice, extending his free hand to the blond, bright eyed ellon. Celegorm nodded his head deeply to you before exchanging a wistful glance with Curufin.

"And this is my younger brother, Curufin." He continued in his same huffy annoyed voice, Curufin politely nodded his to you. Though their displayed respects didn't do anything to ease the ever growing aura of tension and danger.

"And dear brothers-" He hissed out, "this is MY wife." Caranthir hadn't told you much of Celegorm and Curufin. Other than the fact that they could be trouble, and more often than not he had explained they loved to tag team your poor husband. This prompted him to have warned you if this day ever came, that they knew JUST how to send him into a bought of rage.

"It is a pleasure." You said politely back to them with a smile of your own, mindful to stay respectful as you didn't know them, and almost everyone annoyed Cara- except for you. The two exchanged another glance, Celegorm's eyes narrowing in on you once more as Curufin turned his attention to his brother.

"Dear brother, please be a good host and fetch a drink for us. I'm afraid I don't know who to flag down." Curufin began out a glint of amusement finding his eye as he looked from you and back to their brother. You could almost hear his teeth beginning to grind together, your eyebrows raised in response to the way Curufin blatantly ordered him around.

"The wine table is just over there, forgive me but I'd prefer to stay in the company of my husband." You interjected on his behalf, sensing how his anger was winding up to be white hot. Caranthir said nothing drilling a hole into the two of them, Celegorm only looking to you with mirth at your attempt to placate and diffuse the situation.

"Curufin our dear brother lets a Lady speak for him now." If you had known the brothers better you'd have openly rolled your eyes in annoyance at Celegorm's ability to twist this situation around to irate Cara further. But your husband said nothing, not really wanting to show you his unstoppable rage. This whole year he had managed to keep a handle on his rage in front of you, now once you weren't around that didn't mean furniture and glass items were destroyed. Though that streak was certainly being put to the test now,

"Mm with an elf as lovely as she, I'd let her speak for me too... Amongst other things." Curufin said eyes oncing over your form as he stood stoically, a hint of interest finding his voice. This was clearly striking a nerve as Caranthir's hand squeezed your hip firmly, he had sensed your immediate discomfort. Spiking his need to protect you further from whatever else they might spout out in their need to pick on him.

"Leave her out of this." Caranthir hissed out, refusing you the very idea of them using you against him. You were his wife for Eru's sake! Not a silly little chess piece or trinket to be toyed with! Not a single elf seemed to pay this situation any mind, showing how regular this really was, and as much as Caranthir would hate it in this moment you couldn't help but sympathize with him...

"Come now Carnistir! We only mean it as a compliment!" Celegorm laughed out joyously, and if it wouldn't make the situation worse you'd absolutely put yourself protectively between him and Caranthir. You had siblings too, sisters though. So you didn't understand this need to distress their brother so badly and desperately did you want it to stop. You were sensing there was a tipping point and felt that perhaps now was your opportunity to escape so you could calm him.

"My love, let us retire hm?" You began moving to grab his and pulling gently to move past them. But in doing so it put you closer to Curufin, whose hand shot out to your back, resting against the exposed skin. Immediately you blushed bristling at his touch, feeling his hand slide around to grip your hip snugly.

“Come now, Lady Y/N, I insist that you stay and join us for a couple of drinks.” Celegorm urged in a smooth and charming voice leaning forward to be closer to you. The close interaction didn't last for very long as with ease your husband yanked you away.

Unintentionally jolting you forcefully making you stumble, Caranthir throwing the goblet off to the side as he grabbed his brothers wrist tightly, shoving Celegrom away in the process with his now free hand. His fury at its peak just from him touching your bare skin and gripping your hip the way he had so possessively. Curufin grimaced, jaw tensing as a glare crossed his features, easily rivaling their fathers.

But this was Curufin not their Atar. And there was nothing Curufin could do to put the fear of Eru in Caranthir. Especially when it came to you, Curufin was at a higher risk of physical ruin than Caranthir was. The tension hung heavy in the air, wound so tightly your fingernails could tear right through it.

"Keep your filthy hands off of MY wife do you understand me?" Caranthir standing so close their noses almost touched as now it was a battle of wills. Seeking his opportunity to perhaps check on you, not missing how you were slung away from the so called danger, Celegorm moving to step around Caranthir. You only watched with wide eyes as his other hand moved out to grab the collar of his green tunic.

"This is my only warning dear brother." His voice dripping with sarcastic venom and you couldn't help your body reacting with such fear from how feral he seemed to become in his quest to protect you. Every muscle in his body rigid and ready to strike them HOWEVER he had too. The four of you were silent, no one wanting to relent to the other but Celegorm and Curufin knew they'd be fools not too.

There was no Maedhros and Maglor to even attempt to pry him off them once Caranthir threw the first punch. And there was no way in all of Arda you could even attempt to calm that fire once it would be set ablaze. Not until the threat understood its place, only then would he relent.

"Are we understood?" He seethed through his gritted teeth, turning his attention to Celegorm who only scoffed out a chuckle, holding up his arms in surrender.

"Alright, we are understood Carnistir." Celegorm spoke with a grin, it was only then he released Celegorm who straightened out his tunic.

"Isn't that right Curufin?" Celegorm asked his brother sensing their fun was most certainly over... For now. The two were watching Curufin carefully who finally nodded though the stoic stance never wavering. Caranthir shoved his brother away from the two of you as you finally worked up your nerve to approach him,

"Cara?" You asked in a small voice with more emotion than you intended to convey, Caranthir felt angry guilt slam into him hearing you. You had only ever heard of his temper reaching to this extreme, always having the luxury at Caranthir's insistence to avoid this part of his anger. Even though you knew you'd be bound to witness this kind of violent fury it didn't make it any less scary.

You were now afraid of him and it was all because his brothers pushed him so hard, now he surely thought you'd see him as a monster. Slowly he turned to face you, red cheeks far more crimson than normal. Eyes fierce and you could almost see a literal fire blazing in them, his body standing tense and ready to attack but he made no move to attack you. He wouldn't dare.

His brothers were quiet as they watched you approach him, both mildly impressed that you still seemed to want to cozy up to the Prince despite how terrifying he was like this. Your small hand slipping into his big calloused one that gently squeezed as he breathed out shakily. Caranthir didn't miss the tears you were trying to fight...

"Let us retire now?" His voice shook with anger but Caranthir was trying desperately to calm himself for your sake. You nodded at his words, thumb rubbing against your soft hand before pulling you with calculated care into his side, and without missing another beat the two of you walked towards the exit of the banquet hall.

No one seemingly paying you two any mind, anyone who did quickly changed their mind once they caught a glimpse of their Lord. For now he'd leave Celegorm and Curufin to stew on their only warning before he'd even consider dealing with them tomorrow. His only concern now was soothing you and his anger, and was grateful his brothers had enough smarts between the two of them to allow you both time alone.

* * * 

tags:

@saviorsong​ @oathandichor @fandom-hoe101 @lilmelily

[elaboratedbee]

Bigby x Reader

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Reader (i changed this to be gender neutral!)

Summary: bigby deals with his rapidly growing feelings for the new Fable that moved into the apartment above his, a nymph. (alternatively, you give bigby flowers)

Rating: E (hella fluff)

Word Count: 4208 (idk how it got long it just did i’m so sorry)

Note: hey guys, this is my second imagine! :) I just love this wolfman rn and I literally cannot wait until s2! i’m a new blog so pls feel free to interact, or request something, bc corona has given me hella free time ;)

You Belong Among The Flowers

You

As you set down the last box in your new apartment, you let a sense of accomplishment wash over you. It hadn’t been easy to save enough money to afford an apartment in the Woodlands, but you worked hard managing your business, growing flowers and owning a florist as well as growing fruit and vegetables which you sold to the grocery stores in Fabletown. When Snow had informed you of the two new apartments that had become available, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the idea. The place you were living before was a little sketchy (read: it was a total shithole, and you were definitely close to getting stabbed on several occasions). 

This way, you would be closer to the allotments you had managed to buy right at the edge of Fabletown, closer to Snow who you had thoroughly enjoyed getting to know during the first couple of months of her deputy mayorship, and it was a hell of a lot safer. The Woodlands had the extra insurance of being the home of the big, bad wolf. Fabletown harboured some pretty stupid criminals, but there weren’t many people stupid enough to target the apartments across the hall from the Sheriff. 

The place needed some life in it, as soon as was possible, however. The stark and empty room made you uncomfortable, and as soon as you set your first fern down on one of the shelves, you immediately felt better. The best part about the place, which really convinced you to part with most of your savings, was the balcony. You couldn’t wait to have it bright with life, a practical jungle on your doorstep. A flower nymph with no flowers was not a happy being, so that was the first thing you got to work on, planting your seeds and setting out your pots. 

It was already falling dark by the time you were done, but you were more than content to spend the night on a mattress in the middle of the floor now that you were surrounded by, at least the beginnings of, a flower garden. 

Bigby

By the time Bigby reached his cramped, little apartment in the evening, it was usually long after darkness had fallen over Fabletown. As he turned the key in the stiff lock, a sigh escaped his lips. He’d been tracking a car thief all day and had not been successful. The detective hated going home with a case hanging over him; there was no way he would be able to get any real sleep while all of his thoughts and theories were racing through his head. 

Bigby opened the door, dim yellow light from the hallway seeping into the room. The lingering smell of smoke from his Huff and Puffs and the scent of whiskey hit his nose even harder once the door was opened, and even he grimaced slightly at the smell. He flicked on the light and took his phone off of the ringer, a habit that he’d developed long ago. It was nice to be enveloped in peace and quiet in the evening. It was the way he liked it, he told himself. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, he knew that he really made himself unavailable because that way he could pretend that being alone was a conscious decision that he made.

Making his way to the small window in his living space, he opened it in an attempt to allow some fresh (well, as fresh as it got for New York city) air into his apartment. Bigby froze as an unexpected scent was the first to hit him, and he inhaled deeply. It was a floral scent, different kinds of mingling together. Some overpowered the less aromatic ones, but Bigby’s sense of smell was heightened enough that he could pick out each individual smell and he traced it to somewhere above him. The pitch-black darkness outside made it a futile goal to find out where it was coming from, so he simply stood and basked in it, sure that it would be gone in the morning. He assumed that someone in a nearby apartment had received a bouquet of flowers and had left it on their windowsill. It was concerning that they had left their window open, he noted, even the Woodland building wasn’t particularly safe. 

A bittersweet pang of homesickness ran through his body like a shiver, pooling in his chest and making his heartache. Mostly, he avoided thinking about the Homelands, as it always resulted in the sad longing that he was feeling now. But with the scent in his nose so reminiscent of the beautiful woodlands and sprawling idyllic spaces that they had once called home, there was no way he could avoid it now. Once the initial sadness passed, he allowed himself to relax into the sense of security and joy that were stronger than any negative feelings when he thought back to their home and all of its splendour. Although the person, or monster, that Bigby had been back then was a source of regret, he could not deny that he’d do almost anything to trade the dirty, concrete cityscape outside of his window for hills and mountains, forests and rivers. 

For the first time that he could remember, he didn’t reach for a cigarette or a tumbler of whiskey when he sat down in his chair to rest at last. Instead, he inhaled deeply, and let the smell of flowers lull him to a restful sleep. 

When he awoke, he was pleased to find that the pleasant smell persisted, which made him considerably more optimistic about the day ahead. There was one lead that he thought to chase up, but he figured that he ought to fill in Snow on the recent happenings before making his way out. She was much busier now, since the Crooked Man. Things weren’t perfect, he didn’t think they would ever be, but they were certainly better. Snow was making changes, just like she had promised to herself and everyone that she would. When Fables came through the door of the business office, their wishes weren’t always granted, but they were always heard.

Bigby thought that was a step in the right direction. 

After showering and getting dressed, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. The line for the business office was already fairly long, despite the early hour of the morning and he resolved not to take up too much of Snow’s time. Ignoring the eye rolls and general disgruntlement from the Fables in the hallway as he bypassed the line, he made his way into the office. Snow was busying herself with a stack of papers, looking rather stressed at it all. He didn’t like to see her that way, but he did prefer it to the look of frustration and helplessness that he caught glimpses of when she was working as an assistant. 

Opening his mouth to announce his presence, he promptly closed it as something took him by surprise. On Snow’s desk was a vase of flowers, a big and beautiful bouquet. Proud white roses were peppered with baby's breath, all sitting on a luscious green bed of eucalyptus and hydrangeas. It was perfect, it was if it were an incarnation of Snow herself. He looked at it and realised, at that moment, exactly why people gave each other flowers, he had never had a reason to consider it. 

He must have been staring for a lot longer than it felt like because what finally broke him from his reverie was the sound of Snow’s laughter, soft and musical. Frowning at the sight of her mocking him, he flipped her off, which only made her laugh more. “Who’s the secret admirer?” He inquired, “I’ll need their address too, you know, just in case.” 

Snow glared at him.

“I’m kidding.” Bigby placated her, raising his hands in mock surrender. The smell of this bouquet was different from the one coming through his window, telling him that it was a different set of flowers, but surely the giver of these was also the source of the others. It seemed like far too much of a coincidence, otherwise. 

With a pointed look, Snow said, “you already know it. I told you last week that someone new was moving into the Woodlands! Since Crane is gone, we renovated his hideous penthouse into two new apartments.” Even the mention of his name raised Bigby’s hackles and got his blood boiling, so he could only imagine the disgust that his friend must feel whenever he’s brought up. 

“Right,” Bigby agreed, hazily recalling the conversation that he had definitely not paid his full attention to. It was no wonder that Bigby had missed them moving in, considering that he usually leaves the Woodlands in the early hours of the morning and returns in . . . the early hours of the morning. Yikes.

“I told them about the apartment, so they sent me these as a way to say thanks,” Snow explained, gesturing toward the flowers.

He wondered what their connection was to the flowers, whether they just liked them or whether they were a part of their history, their story. Once again, Bigby opened his mouth only to be interrupted by an inpatient sounding knock on the door. Snow jerked her head towards it before throwing an apologetic smile towards the Sheriff. “I’m sorry, Bigby. I have a lot to do. I should probably get going with these meetings.” 

That was his cue to leave, so the wolf nodded at her and made an exit from the office. He was busy, too, and things were never really peaceful in Fabletown, so it was probably for the best that he got going, but he couldn’t help but wish he had asked for a name.  

He was soon to find out, however, only a couple of days later. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Bigby used his free hand to open his mailbox. It was more of a tradition at this point, considering he couldn’t actually recall the last time he received a letter in the post that wasn’t a bill. 

An out of tune ding announced the arrival of the elevator but Bigby didn’t turn around, not wanting to invite conversation. He had just placed the car thief into custody, and Snow was going to arrange a trial for tomorrow. The system was much fairer now, more democratic and he liked it that way. Being the final authority on the Crooked Man last time was some heavy stuff, and there was no way to make everyone happy. Now, there was a jury, a real trial, fair sentencing. Fabletown was slowly but surely dragging itself off the ground and trying to become a more just place, a more safe place. If Bigby could do anything to make sure of it, he would. 

Finally looking up, he turned his head to see which of his neighbours had joined him at the letterbox. It was you.

He almost choked on the cigarette in his mouth as he regarded you, and when he took it out and crushed it underfoot, he could smell you, too. Without the overpowering scent of smoke under his nose, the floral scent that he had been succumbing to every night since the first overtook him and he felt a strange constriction in his chest.

You were beautiful, ethereal, but in a much different way than he could usually describe. It was the quirk of your mouth as you offered him a grin and the glint behind your eyes that suggested you were laughing at your own joke internally. “Sheriff.” You addressed him by his formal title and Bigby was torn. He wanted to hear you say it again, over and over. Sherriff. You said it with respect, with admiration even. It wasn’t an insult, a sarcasm, unlike when most of the Fables addressed him with his title. But he also wanted to hear you say his name. It was this desire that returned his ability to speak.

“Call me, Bigby.” 

You closed your mailbox, holding your letters in your hand and smiled wider, introducing yourseld in return.

“I’ll see you around, Bigby.” 

You were walking away, and Bigby, for the first time, was struck with the desire to stop you, make you stay, talk just a little longer. 

“I, uh, I like the flowers.” He managed to growl out. You looked a little taken aback at his tone and he cursed himself, but you recovered and offered him yet another smile. He noted how you gave them out like it cost nothing. 

“Oh, Snow’s?” You prompted him for more information. 

“Yeah, and I can,” he made a vague gesture towards his face, “smell the ones you have in the windowsill. From my apartment.” 

Your eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise, and he felt a weird sense of pride. What the fuck is wrong with you? He thought to himself. 

“Really? I’ll keep them there,” you were so sincere, you made such a simple comment sound like a promise. He nodded, unable to think of yet another reason to delay you and altogether confused about why he was freaking out the way that he was. You stepped into the elevator and was gone. 

You

You stepped off of the elevator and into your apartment, placing the letters down onto a table. The place wasn’t huge but you had made the best of it. The walls had a fresh coat of white paint, making the place seem more open and bright, the furniture was simple, mainly second hand, but it fits. Best of all, your beloved balcony. You guessed that’s what the Sheriff had confused for the flowers on your window-sill.

Great, leafy ferns and potted plants adorned your apartment all over, but the balcony was the centre of it all, and it was only just beginning. You had planted all manner of things, and you were only getting started. Due to your being a  flower nymph, they grew faster, strong and healthy, and the seeds that you planted mere days ago were beginning to form buds, and even open up. The scent was sweeter. The plants were happier, but you couldn’t really explain that sort of thing to another Fable. They would laugh at the notion, but you could feel it.

Moving to the city had been hard for you, really hard. The nymphs were the caretakers of the homelands, the trees, rivers, lakes and plants. The animals, too, even if they didn’t always know it. To have it ripped away was more painful than anything else you could have experienced. It wasn’t just a home that had been taken from you, it was a part of yourself that had been left behind. 

Your mind drifted to your recent interaction as you watered them with care, and you felt your heart rate pick up when you thought of the Sheriff. He was tired, you could tell, but he seemed kind enough. It was a common mistake that nymphs only took care of the plants in the forest, when really they guarded the animals, too. It gave you more of a read on the beastially inclined residents, and you could almost feel the weight on Bigby’s shoulders as you stood next to him. 

I like the flowers. 

The compliment played over in your mind. It had taken you by surprise, considering what all of the other residents had told you about the big, bad wolf. You trusted Snow’s word above the others when she told you about him, that he was a man that wanted to change, had changed. He wanted to make this place better, she had told you, just like her. But even Snow had grumbled to you a few times about how stubborn, how hot-headed and how harsh he could be. 

Over the next couple of days, he was stuck on your mind. You paid far more attention to the coming and going of the wolf than before, realising for the first time that he was rarely home at all. Could this really be the same man that everyone complained about downtown? The one that Fables still questioned as to whether or not he really cared at all? Every time you passed him, you sensed his exhaustion, his frustration. His loneliness. But there was something else when you passed him, too. This little spark of joy and excitement. You knew it must be the scent of the flowers, what else could it be? He had already remarked on it.

Deciding enough was enough, you went about making him the perfect bouquet. 

Throughout the week, you worked on your gift. You arranged it untraditionally in a long, thin wooden box which was overflowing with greenery. Succulents and hydrangeas were scattered amongst them like stars in the night sky. Wild berries shone like jewels, clinging to their stems. Most importantly, bright white lily of the valleys hung like bells. You picked them because of their sweet scent, hoping that the wolf would enjoy them. They were common in the homelands, and you wondered if it would remind him of the place. 

Finally satisfied, you picked up the arrangement late one evening and stepped into the elevator. Am I being crazy? You thought to yourself as your grip on the box tightened. You just thought that all of the things the Sheriff did for Fabletown deserved a little recognition. It was the least you could do say thanks, right? 

Arriving at the correct floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on Bigby’s door. It was a little late for a house call, you realised, but he wasn’t home at any other hour. The wolf opened the door, scowling until he saw you. Confusion replaced the general displeasure on his face until he noted what was in your hands. “Oh,” his voice was full of realisation, “I can hand those to Snow if you want, but if you just wait until tomorrow, she’ll be back in her office,” he explained to you. 

What? You realised quickly that he thought the flowers were meant for Snow and you shook your head, a little saddened that he didn’t even think that they could be for him. 

“Actually, Sheriff, they’re for you. For your windowsill.” 

The man’s face went completely blank while he processed the information, which was kind of scary. The guy really didn’t give anything away. 

“For me?” He repeated, sounding almost suspicious as he raised his hand to his mouth and removed his cigarette, seemingly wanting to inhale the flowers instead.

“Yep.” You assured him firmly, “you said you liked the scent of them so I thought you might like some of your own.” With your words, the energy of the wolf changed. The exhaustion and anger faded substantially and he finally seemed warm, almost as happy as your flowers. You seized the opportunity. “You mind if I come in? I can tell you about watering them and stuff.”

Bigby failed to hide his face a little more this time, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I don’t have anything to offer you, and the place is a real shithole.” He warned you. 

“I didn’t come for anything, I just want to bring you these,” you answer and he relents, stepping backwards and opening the door to allow you in. You expected the smell of cigarettes to be worse, but he had an open window that seemed to be helping with that. You set the flowers down on the windowsill and turned to face him. He was closer than you had expected, and a blush broke out onto your cheeks at the proximity of the wolf to you. You are overwhelmed with the desire to step even closer, but you stay put. The man was already freaked out, he didn’t need your crush to make it any worse.

“Why?” He seemed reluctant to ask like he had been trying to answer the question himself but just couldn’t figure out the answer.

“To say thank you. You do a lot for us, especially those of us who live in The Woodlands. I think of how much safer this place is just because you live here. And you said you liked them.”

“I don’t exactly do anything other than be the Big, Bad Wolf.” He points out, and you catch a cutting undertone to his argument.

“Bullshit.” He seems surprised at your choice of words and raises an amused eyebrow at you. “You get up at the crack of dawn and you get home little before then, sometimes not at all. You single-handedly protect all of the Fables in this town. You deserve a hundred flowers.” You pointed this all out casually, shrugging your shoulders but Bigby looks deeply uncomfortable. You wondered why he was so tense as you pointed out all he does. 

You wondered if anybody does.

Bigby

He thought that if you come any closer to him then he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you. He also thought that he can’t move away. 

The scent of the flowers, your scent, was making him feel almost dizzy. It was hard to believe that you were in his apartment, that you brought him flowers. You brought him flowers, you brought him flowers, you brought him flowers. Ever since they spoke, such a small, meaningless conversation, he hadn’t been able to get you off his mind. Sure that you had forgotten it by the next day, he felt like such an idiot replaying it in his mind before he could fall asleep at night. 

But you hadn’t. You had remembered what he said and brought him flowers. 

“Thank you.” He realised he hadn’t even said that yet, and he turned away to admire them, and so that he didn’t have to look at you anymore. Clenching his jaw, he implored himself not to ruin this already, to just control himself, like he had with Snow once upon a time. But this time, it seemed impossible.

Then, you touched his arm. 

He was so acutely aware of your hand on his skin the whole time that it was there that he could barely hear what you were saying. All of the nice things you were saying about him, falling on deaf ears. God, he felt pathetic. Was that really all it took to turn him stupid? One compliment, one touch.

He hadn’t been touched in a while, though. Not like this. By someone who wasn’t trying to hurt him, or calm him down. Not by someone who just wanted to be close to him. 

Fuck it, he thought, and stepped closer, leaning into your touch. There were inches between you now. 

You

All of a sudden, he was in front of you. His skin was warm to your touch, and his eyes were simmering with something. You think back over the last couple of days. The way you had watched him, the way you’d thought of him. How you had spent hours finding the perfect flowers, arranging them just so. That wasn’t gratitude or friendly admiration and you knew it. You wondered if he knew it.

You looked up and met his eyes, they were almost gold now that you were close, more than brown. That’s the last thing you remember thinking before you weren’t thinking anything, but feeling the wolf’s mouth on yours. His hand comes up to cup your face, holding you close and the other hand moves to your waist. It’s needy, and almost desperate as the both of you simply give in to whatever desire you were pushing back. 

His face was rough, and you delighted in the coarseness of his hands, a shiver running through your body. He invaded all of your senses, occupies all of you for the minutes, or hours that the two of you are interlocked. The sharpness of his teeth on your bottom lip, gone as quickly as it came prompted you to gasp ever so slightly, allowing his tongue passage into your mouth. When you finally pulled away, air a terrible, evil necessity to you now, you dared to open your eyes and reassure yourself that you weren’t dreaming. Bigby was still pressed up against you, his eyes a brighter gold than they had been before and his breathing urgent.

“I like the flowers,” he chokes out, “I really, really like the - “

You cut him off by grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down towards you once again, rolling your eyes slightly at how awkward he was. You’d figure it out. Kissing him breathless, you finally released him and met his eyes. “I like you too, Bigby.” 

The wolf shared a genuine smile with you, one that reached all the way up to his eyes and flashed his sharp incisors. You wanted to see it again, a million times.

You were going to need more flowers. 

[august-anon]

Maybe I Like it, Too

Hey hey, this is a sequel to my fic You Like It, go read that first! I am out here feeding the lee!Geralt needs, lol, I have 2 more Witcher fics already done that are BOTH lee!Geralt, lol. Also, my lee!Geralt will be inconsistent between fics rn because I still haven’t decided what I want to do with him yet lol

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship(s): Could be gen or romo Geraskier your pick

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Geralt, Ler!Jaskier

Word Count: 3239 words

Summary: Jaskier knew that everyone had to be at least a little ticklish somewhere, and he wasn't going to give up until he had Geralt laughing underneath him.

[ao3 link]

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Geralt had had quite the unfair advantage since he’d found out that Jaskier was ticklish. Quite the embarrassing advantage as well, considering he liked to remind Jaskier how much he knew Jaskier loved it. Jaskier wasn’t even sure if the man was trying to tease (or if he even knew how, the stubborn devil), or if he was just being unfairly smug because mentioning it actually got Jaskier to shut up due to embarrassment.

But Jaskier knew that everyone had to be ticklish, even if it was just in one place. He refused to believe that the witcher mutagens coursing through Geralt’s veins robbed him of that, too.

If only Jaskier knew where to start, though. Knew where to look, knew where to poke or prod for a reaction. He couldn’t be obvious, then Geralt would just wreck him again (not that he was complaining), and Jaskier would get nowhere.

So Jaskier put the sneaky skills he rarely used to work and simply observed. Frankly, most of his discoveries were on accident, in moments he hadn’t even tried to be stealthy and coerce a laugh out of the man.

Like when Jaskier was going through his usual routine of giving Geralt a bath after a particularly disgusting hunt. He had washed the man’s hair for him and was combing through it with his fingers, when one finger accidentally brushed up against Geralt’s neck. Geralt jumped, the bathwater almost sloshing out of the tub, and Jaskier himself almost jumping back at the sudden move, wondering if Geralt had sensed something dangerous.

“... You okay?” He asked.

He only got a low, “Hm.” in return, but Jaskier was well-versed enough in Geralt to decipher it as meaning, “Yes.” 

It didn’t click until after the bath what had happened. Geralt’s neck was ticklish, to that light little touch. Jaskier knew he had been right! Geralt probably didn’t even know what that was.

But he needed more research before he could lunge.

The next time was also accidental.

Geralt had gotten a gash on the back of his leg while on yet another hunt. Jaskier swore that when he came back to camp, limping and dripping blood, he almost lost it. The stupid witcher really needed to learn to be more careful. The gash wasn’t bad enough to need stitches to heal, but it was quite a near thing.

Instead, Jaskier had him lay down on his stomach and “try to relax, you big oaf,” while he cleaned the wound and rubbed some healing salve on it before wrapping it. While wrapping it, Jaskier accidentally brushed up against the, for once bare, skin of the back of Geralt’s knee a few times. Every time, Geralt would flinch slightly or tense his leg up at the odd feeling.

Despite it being an accident, Jaskier realized what was going on faster, that time. He swallowed any teasing remarks and managed to get out an apologetic-sounding, “Sorry, I know it’s all tender back here from the wound.”

Once again, all Jaskier got back was a, “Hm.” that meant, “Yes,” but this time there was a somewhat confused tinge to it.

Jaskier ignored it, but he knew that Geralt knew it wasn’t from the wound. He would find out soon enough.

Once more, Jaskier found something out accidentally before he decided to strike.

It was a such a stupid, mundane moment. Jaskier tripped, rather gracelessly, as well, and flailed as he went down. Trying to avoid scraping his lovely face against the road, he grabbed for Geralt blindly, managing to slow his descent with a tight grab at his side that unfortunately slipped away and still led to him falling face-first into the dirt. 

Well, almost. Geralt managed to grab the back of his doublet and yank him back up, but that was almost just as bad! Jaskier paid a lot of money for clothes that looked as nice as his, and Geralt could’ve stretched or ripped the fabric!

But, at the grab, Geralt reacted much differently than that day Jaskier simply wiggled his fingers against the spot. His body twitched, an aborted flinch or jump, and he inhaled sharply through his nose.

So, Jaskier thought, it takes a rougher touch to get under his dear witcher’s hard shell. At least, in certain specific places. He could work with that.

Jaskier had enough sense and kindness to wait until they were camping between towns, as opposed to attempting to wreck him in an inn. For one, it would totally ruin his big scary charade, which Jaskier completely saw through, but he knew Geralt was protective over who got to see him be all soft and secretly sweet. For another, if the whole thing went south and Geralt turned the tables and completely destroyed him, he didn’t want to keep up the entire town with his shrieking laughter.

Jaskier started it under the guise of brushing Geralt’s hair for him, citing that it was “important to do so if you don’t want it to get all matted. Do you want me to have to cut off that luxurious mane?” Jaskier knew Geralt would say yes once he had an excuse to, and Jaskier had provided the perfect excuse for him.

So he brushed Geralt’s hair, long after the tangles had been tugged out. He watched Geralt’s body language carefully and closely: watched his shoulders untense, watched his eyes flutter shut, watched his fists unclench. The more relaxed Geralt was, the better the chance Jaskier had of getting away with it.

When Geralt looked totally blissed out, Jaskier made his move. He quickly slid his fingers onto Geralt’s neck, ready to wiggle and tickle, and threw his body weight onto the man to hopefully throw him off-guard and off-balance enough for Jaskier to get the upper hand just as long as he needed.

But really, Jaskier should’ve known better than to underestimate witcher senses and witcher reflexes.

Geralt’s eyes snapped open, almost as if he’d been expecting something, and flipped Jaskier onto his shoulder and onto the forest floor. Geralt quickly held him down with a firm hand against his chest, putting enough pressure that Jaskier couldn’t squirm out from under it, but not so much that it hurt.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “I knew you were plotting something. If you wanted to laugh, you could have just asked.”

Geralt started lowering his hand towards Jaskier’s stomach, fingers forming that horribly ticklish claw that Geralt had learned to do to make him near-scream no matter where it was placed. Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he started struggling even more, which only seemed to amuse Geralt further.

“Wait!” Jaskier cried. “Wait!”

Geralt immediately stopped, knowing that (for once) he meant it, there must’ve been something in Jaskier’s voice. His hand immediately left Jaskier’s chest and he sat back, giving Jaskier space.

“As fun as that always is,” Jaskier said as he sat up, ignoring the blush he could feel warming his cheeks as he finally admitted that, “I had something else in mind.”

Geralt raised his eyebrow again. “Hm?”

“I was going to try to tickle you.”

Geralt huffed, looking away off into the forest. “You tried, remember?”

“Ah,” Jaskier said, moving into Geralt’s space again and holding up a finger, pointing it at Geralt with his next words, “I tried one spot, with a method that necessarily doesn’t work for everyone!” Jaskier rose up to his knees and put his hands on his hips. “There is plenty to experiment with, and I may or may not have accidentally made some interesting discoveries the past few weeks!”

Geralt scowled in that way that Jaskier knew meant he was just thinking rather than him actually being angry. “Like what?”

“Do I have your permission to tickle you?”

“Jaskier--”

“Hear me out! You can tell me to stop whenever you want, okay?” Jaskier held up his hands in a placating motion to show he meant no harm. “Whenever you’d like. But you missed out on this huge part of childhood! It’s a bonding experience, Geralt, it’s fun! But if you don’t like it, we’ll stop right away.”

Geralt stared at him for a few moments. “You just want revenge for how much I’ve been tickling you.”

Jaskier grinned and shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “Maybe.”

Geralt stared at him awhile longer. “I’m probably not ticklish. I’m a witcher.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, putting his hold head into the motion. “Why don’t we prove that, one way or the other, hm?”

Geralt finally gave in, acting annoyed about it the whole time as he scooted over to the bedrolls that Jaskier had set up to lay down. Jaskier grinned, bright and toothy and followed him over, plopping over his hips to straddle him.

Geralt raised both eyebrows at him, that time, but he didn’t say anything about it. “What do you claim to have discovered?” He asked.

Jaskier’s smile turned into a playful smirk as he crackled his knuckles and wiggled his fingers as a “stretch.” “Well, dear witcher, I thought you would never ask! I say we start from the top, wouldn’t you agree?”

Geralt just rolled his eyes at Jaskier’s theatrics, probably a subtle hint to get on with it, but Jaskier was going to take his sweet time with this. Where was the fun in it, otherwise?

“This is also coincidentally the first one I noticed, wouldn’t you know. I was quite overjoyed when I realized what that cute little jump meant, you could’ve flooded the whole inn with your bathwater had you jumped any higher!”

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier laughed lightly. “Oh, alright.” He started reaching down to brush his fingers across Geralt’s neck before he pulled them back with a gasp. “Oh wait, I have the best idea!”

He ignored the strange look Geralt gave him as he leapt off his torso and raced over to his own pack. He dug through it for a few moments before sitting up with a triumphant, “aha!”

Geralt sat up as Jaskier approached, feather quill in hand. “You are not drawing on me,” he said gruffly.

Jaskier scoffed, pushing Geralt back into a sitting position (or, more accurately, Geralt let himself be pushed back into a sitting position) and sat on top of him again. “Not the ink part, the feather part.”

“Feathers tickle?”

Jaskier wiggled the tip of the feather over Geralt’s nose with a grin. “Terribly so.”

Geralt smirked up at him. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Jaskier sputtered for a moment before scowling, cheeks once again red, and gently “slapping” Geralt on his shoulder (it was really more like a tap than anything). “Hey, quit teasing! I’m supposed to be the one tickling!”

“Who’s teasing?” Geralt said with a smug smile, clearly teasing.

Jaskier pointed the feather threateningly into his face. “You be quiet.”

Jaskier felt something that he was certain was a muffled chuckle rumble through Geralt’s chest and he smiled again, remembering what he was there to do.

“Well, then, Geralt. Ready to laugh?”

Geralt readjusted his position on the bedroll to be more comfortable and looked up at Jaskier warily. Jaskier gave him his most disarming smile and Geralt relaxed minutely. And then Jaskier gently touched the feather down to Geralt’s neck and brushed it back and forth.

Geralt made an absolutely absurd face and jerked his neck as far away as he possibly could. Jaskier couldn’t help but burst into laughter himself, laughing so hard that he had to lean over and rest his head against Geralt’s sternum as he calmed down.

“I thought this was supposed to be about making me laugh,” Geralt said, though there was still an undercurrent of bewilderment in his voice.

“It is,” Jaskier wheezed. “It is, it’s just-- your face, Geralt! It was too good!”

“Hm.”

Jaskier knew that “hm.” It was the “stop poking fun at me and make a point” hm. So Jaskier quickly composed himself and sat back up, still grinning madly.

“It felt weird, though, right?”

Geralt rolled his shoulders as best as he could lying down. “I guess. I didn’t laugh.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes fondly. “I only did it for barely a second. Don’t worry, we’re starting for real this time.”

Jaskier touched the feather down to Geralt’s neck once more and followed him this time when he jerked away. Geralt went through an interesting face journey as he squirmed lightly under Jaskier. Geralt pursed his lips and, while Jaskier thought he had heard something about witchers being unable to blush due to their mutations, he definitely looked like he’d be blushing if he could.

“That’s weird,” Geralt said, voice coming out slightly more high pitched than usual.

“Oh yeah?” Jaskier said teasingly. “Is that so?”

“Don’t use that voice,” Geralt practically growled.

“Why not? Does it make the weird feeling worse?”

Geralt grunted as he continued to struggle underneath Jaskier, but Jaskier knew it was all a front. Geralt could throw him clear across the clearing into a tree, if he wanted, and not even break a sweat, and yet he let Jaskier sit on his hips and continue to tickle him with the feather.

But Jaskier wanted more than just funny faces and squirming. He wanted Geralt to let go and laugh. And he seemed to be getting closer, based on the shaking of his shoulders and chest, but he was still holding back.

Jaskier simply smirked. He knew how to crack a tough nut (or, at least, he hoped).

Jaskier leaned down to whisper in Geralt’s ear with as teasing and smug a voice he could muster, making sure his lips brushed against the shell of Geralt’s ear and his breath was as ticklish as possible. “Come on, just laugh! I know you want to, just let go. You’ll have so much more fun if you just smile for me.” Jaskier fluttered the feather around Geralt’s other ear before twirling it inside, at which Geralt actually made a quiet yelp. “Drop the big bad witcher act for one night, just for me. I want to hear that deep rumbly laugh that I know is hiding in there somewhere.”

Geralt started letting out little huffs. His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides with the self-control it was clearly taking to not reach up and pull Jaskier away to stop the maddening sensations. Jaskier grinned at the effect he was having.

Time to secretly put another thing he found out to use. While Geralt was focused on Jaskier’s playful torment around his ears and neck, Jaskier other hand sneaked up to rest unobtrusively against his side. When he thought it had been long enough for Geralt to dismiss it, he dug in.

Geralt’s eyes opened wide with a startled laugh as Jaskier’s fingers skillfully dug into the sensitive spot. He shot into a sitting position, meaning Jaskier also shot up into a sitting position, and squirmed back and forth, suddenly struggling all the more to keep his hands to himself.

“Jas-Jaskier!” Geralt laughed out.

“Yes, my dear witcher?” Jaskier asked smugly, pulling his face back and dropping his feather quill to be picked up later. “What is it?”

Geralt opened his mouth to answer, but Jaskier chose that moment to dig into Geralt’s other side as well, and Geralt simply tumbled into more laughter. His hands finally gave in and grabbed his wrists, but after a moment of holding tightly, his fingers loosened their grip so his hands just followed wherever Jaskier’s went.

“It feels weird!” Geralt cried out.

“I told you!” Jaskier chuckled.

Jaskier untucked and pulled up Geralt’s shirt to slip his hands inside. They kneaded and squeezed and vibrated into his stomach and sides, and Jaskier even took an extra moment to make sure he twisted a finger into Geralt’s bellybutton for good measure, which made Geralt’s laughter go somewhat breathy in the cutest way. 

Jaskier then carefully began moving up Geralt’s ribs, lightening his touch slightly so as to not hurt him. But Jaskier then quickly discovered that Geralt’s ribs was another spot where the lighter he went, the more ticklish it felt, unlike his sides and stomach.

Even as his body curled inward instinctively to protect itself, Geralt’s head was thrown back as he laughed. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, crinkling at the corners, and he had the biggest smile Jaskier had ever seen on a person, especially on him.

Geralt’s arms were tucked up too tightly against his body for Jaskier to sneak up into his armpits, so he tickled back down Geralt’s sides and ribs to target his stomach again, keeping Geralt in stitches. He leaned forward and blew a couple small raspberries on Geralt’s exposed neck while squeezing at his hips and Geralt let out a high-pitched (for him, at least, with that gravelly voice) yelp as he fell back to the bedroll, once again taking Jaskier with him.

Seeing as he was unused to tickling, Jaskier decided to have mercy on Geralt a little earlier than he would for someone else. He slowed down the tickling until it was just him placing ticklish little kisses and nibbles along the column of Geralt’s neck, even as he turtled up to try and protect himself, and eventually brought those to a stop as well. He rolled off Geralt and layed on the bedroll next to him that he had spread out for himself.

“Well?” He asked after a few moments of Geralt catching his breath, grinning up at the trees above them.

“Well what?” Geralt asked, looking toward him.

“Well, what did you think?”

“It was… interesting. What was that thing you did with your mouth?”

Jaskier looked at him. “What, the raspberry?”

Geralt furrowed his brow. “It is named after a fruit?”

Jaskier laughed. “Indeed it is, and it is perfect for places like necks and sides and stomachs.”

Geralt hummed and smirked. Jaskier squawked as he realized the information he’d just freely given out, likely going to lead to his own destruction later. After a few minutes of silence, Jaskier letting Geralt recover and think about the concept of tickling, he turned to Geralt with a grin once more.

“You liked it,” he sang smugly.

Geralt scoffed. “And what makes you think that?”

Jaskier chuckled and rolled over so he was draped over Geralt’s chest, propping his head up on his hand (and hoping his elbow wasn’t digging into Geralt’s sternum in the process). “Well, you never asked me to stop. And I certainly made it known that you could.”

Geralt scoffed. “I just wanted you to have fun. You won’t get the opportunity again.”

Jaskier snorted. “As if. I know you had fun, that smile of yours still hasn’t faded all the way away! Plus, there’s still so many other spots to test and methods to try, I know you’re far too curious to not have a repeat performance.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier grinned. That “hm” meant “you’re right but I’m embarrassed about it so I’m not going to directly answer so you think you’re wrong.”

“Sure,” Jaskier said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

It wasn’t until much later that night, when they were curled up next to each other on their bedrolls, warmed by the fire and each other’s bodies, that Jaskier finally got his answer, barely absorbed by his half-asleep mind.

“Maybe I like it, too,” Geralt murmured in his ear.

Jaskier smiled as he drifted off.

[crowned-ladybug]

(Same anon here) I'm really happy u liked my idea :D I love finding people with the same/similar ideas I have :> also I love your writing and I like the scenario you mentioned about Joseph and Caesar, that could lead to some angst and fluff :0

Hi I am So Sorry that this is so late, I’m not even gonna list the reasons why, I’m just. so sorry.

It’s so nice finding other ppl who enjoy the same hcs I do and getting to Talk About Them!!!

As for the plot idea - part of me wishes I could make this a proper fic but alas, I already have too much on my plate and no time/energy to write most days. It still ran away with me a bit tho so under the read more it goes!

So this is still back on Air Supplena and Caesar and Joseph are just. hanging out. Caesar is trying to Read but emphasis on Trying actually bc he’s been rereading the same damn line for the past two minutes just not comprehending any of it bc Joseph won’t stop messing with his goddamn clackers and Making Noise and it’s Distracting and Annoying and Caesar is getting real fed up with it

(Maybe if he actually Said something in a civil manner then Joseph would’ve stopped doing that and let him read instead of leaving Caesar to fume without saying Anything just expecting things to change on their own but I digress)

So eventually Caesar groans: “Jesus Christ, why do you have to be so Annoying, just Stay Quiet Already,” and he reaches over and yanks the clackers out of Joseph’s hand. “I’m taking these. There.”

And he’d be ready to just go back to reading with the clackers dropped on his lap and Joseph finally Quiet bc for all Caesar cares he can stalk off to sulk elsewhere as long as he’s Quiet about it

Joseph is not quiet about anything

The clackers, as already established, are his stim toy. His favourite at that. He’s had the dang things for a while now and they’re Perfect and he uses them so often that they’ve become His Thing and since he can use them for fighting also he doesn’t have to feel weird about having them on hand all the time

And he’s grown up with almost every adult besides Erina and Speedwagon, as well as a lot of not-adults, telling him that everything he does bc of his ADHD is weird or wrong or stupid. He’s been yelled at to stay still in school so many times and had his stim/fidget toys taken and told off for stimming (and poor volume control, and memory issues, and infodumping, and so many other things that are just Natural to him) and told to just grow up and stop acting so childish and embarrassing and annoying, that everything he ever does to make himself comfortable and happy is actually gross and immature and should be stopped-

And now Caesar just told him the same thing and it hits differently from all the other times he’s called him annoying, and he took his fuckin clackers too and he’s acting like it’s just Okay to Do and-

Joseph sees red.

Caesar has no time to react before they’re both on the floor and all he can do is try to dodge and block Joseph’s fists as he yells at him to give him his fuckin clackers back. And it’s scary beyond just. fighting someone who’s v strong and knows how to punch (bc ofc so does Caesar), it’s scary bc Joseph is v obviously Genuinely Upset?? This isn’t an impromptu wrestling match on the floor over something dumb and petty that they’ll call truce over in just a bit and go back to teasing each other. No, Caesar has somehow Fucked Up even if he doesn’t realise How nor how to Fix It

This all goes down in the span of seconds btw before Joseph like. catches himself and realises what he’s doing, which is. trying to beat his best friend into the carpet for taking his Stupid Childish Toy that he shouldn’t even Have bc what kind of Idiot gets so attached to some dumb Toy and makes Constant Annoying Noises with it. And Caesar is reaching up tentatively to put a hand on his arm to try to placate him or snap him out of it or Something and that’s when Joseph just Bolts

Like. clackers forgotten and everything, he just. utilises his favourite secret technique and runs for it

“It” being his room. He locks the door and sits on the floor next to it for a while trying to catch his breath and collect himself. Eventually he manages to get up and get his scarf to fumble with it to calm himself better bc the scarf is also Important like the clackers are

He’s fucked up Big Time. Now Caesar knows he’s weird no matter how hard he tries to save face, bc even if he doesn’t Say anything, even if he never gets his clackers back (oh god, where are they, did he leave them with Caesar, oh fuck-) his strong reaction to Caesar taking them will Definitely betray to him that Something Is Up. Caesar is a smart guy, Joseph can’t expect him not to catch on to Something being off anyway even if he doesn’t exactly know What bc it’s already enough evidence that Joseph is Weird and Childish in all the ways that are Undesirable

Caesar goes after him bc ofc he does. He wants to figure out how he fucked up and Fix It and also lbr. if this Was something Joseph would want to just be left alone with, Caesar wouldn’t really realise that until he got punched again. So he takes the clackers and goes looking for Joseph (which takes him some time bc he doesn’t Know what’s going on and thus that Joseph would be in his room where he can dig out his favourite scarf or bury himself under a pile of blankets bc that’s Comforting, and as small as the island is, it’s Full of good hiding places)

But he eventually comes up to Joseph’s room and knocks. “Jojo, you in there?”

“Go away.”

“…do you actually mean that?”

And okay that’s unfair bc even buried under three blankets (pressure is Good but his weighted blanket is at home in New York and he is here in positively Not New York) and feeling like the world is overall a v shitty place, he still likes Caesar. Even if he knows that it’s dumb to want comfort from the same person that hurt him in the first place.

And then Caesar adds: “I still have your clackers.”

And it’s not like. blackmail or anything, more like “hey I wanna give these back tho” and that’s what does it bc Joseph wants his clackers back and so he v bitterly decides that if Caesar thinks he’s gross and weird now then Joseph can just punch him and they can go back to hating each other like they had back in Rome

He hates that possibility tho

He allows Caesar in and sits up in his bed while he’s at it so that he can have at least Some dignity left. Caesar sits on the bed with him tho he does keep a larger distance than he usually does and Joseph Really hopes that’s “I don’t wanna freak you out again” kinda distance and not “you’re just gonna punch me for no reason again aren’t you” kinda distance

Before he does anything else, Caesar gives the clackers back and Joseph just. puts them down on the bed on the Caesar-free side of himself bc he’s Very Consciously trying Not to Act Weird

He doesn’t look at Caesar’s face tho bc that’s a lil too much for him rn

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Joseph just shrugs. “It’s fine, it’s…dumb.”

“It’s not dumb if it made you upset.”

And that’s so fuckin sweet and Honest and Caesar sounds like he genuinely feels bad for messing Joseph up so much but also Joseph doesn’t know what to Do with that when Caesar doesn’t even Know what he’s talking about, bc ofc it’s Dumb.

“No, it…it is dumb. Don’t worry about it.”

I’d say Caesar operates like 80% on Pure Spite so if you tell him not to worry about something he Will worry about it just to be an asshole but tbh it’s mostly just bc he loves Joseph in this case

“Can I ask why though?”

Joseph doesn’t expect whatever that is so much that he actually looks at Caesar for a moment. “Why what?”

“Why you got so upset. Or why you think it’s dumb,” and when Joseph doesn’t look convinced he continues. “I mean, we fight all the time, sure, but it’s never Serious…right?”

He genuinely looks Uncertain there for a moment and that’s a Big Fuckin Ouch bc of Course it’s never serious, ever since they took turns punting each other into that fountain in Rome none of their fights have been actually serious. They spar for training and they have joke-fights bc it’s fun to rile each other up and gain bragging rights but it’s never about Hurting and in face of real danger they’d protect each other over themselves in a heartbeat

So Joseph just nods, and Caesar carries on.

“But back there you got. really fucked up over what I did and. I guess I just wanna know Why so I know not to do that again?” and with that even He thinks he’s done but then he adds: “You’re my friend.”

And that’s such a fuckin clumsy way to end it bc he can’t say the rest of it, the “I know this here isn’t about comfort but I want you to be comfortable anyway” and “the world is shit and I don’t wanna be another person who hurt you” and “I love you.” So he just leaves it at that.

Joseph automatically wants to go “that’s easy, don’t take my clackers then, dipshit” but like. 1, Caesar is being v v nice so he Won’t be mean in return and 2, there’s so much more connected to his Weirdness that could set him off the same way besides his clackers being taken. So instead he just really appreciates the sentiment and Caesar in general and decides that it’s all a too big a can of worms for him to wrangle and he’d rather just weather the painful parts as they come

“It’s fine, you wouldn’t get it anyway, it’s fine.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, just no one gets it! Whatever, it’s weird shit.”

“If you think I don’t get it, fine, then explain it to me!”

And Joseph doesn’t know what to fuckin Say to that bc no one besides his family has ever asked him to do that. It was always just being told to put his stim toys away and stop moving too much and oh fuck just shut up already, never Why.

He makes a vague noise bc he forgets how to Words for a moment bc of that, and Caesar takes it as a question.

“Jojo, we’re gearing up to fight a bunch of gods with ancient magic so that we can get two rings of poison out of your body, and you really think I can’t handle ‘weird’? Because I can, thank you very much, and it’s You, so I don’t Care if it’s weird anyway.

(He ignores the huge fuckin implications of that and just keeps talking.)

"So, will you explain so that I can understand?”

And he’s Smiling and how Dare and oh fuck when did Joseph even manage to look at him again. He stares for a lil too long bc What The Fuck before he goes “Okay.”

And Caesar’s smile grows into a grin like he really is just. genuinely happy to understand this part of Joseph and make sure he doesn’t hurt him again, and Joseph braces himself for an awkward conversation with Hopefully a happy ending.

(And Joseph ends up being right bc Caesar doesn’t Understand, he can’t really fully understand.

But he Tries and more importantly he Listens and he Learns and is v adamant about the fact that Joseph isn’t Weird and Wrong when it comes to these things. So he doesn’t take away the clackers again and he finally connects the dots about why Joseph always lets him lean too much of his weight on him even if he risks toppling the two of them over and so he keeps doing it. He learns Joseph’s hyperfixations and how to prod him into talking about them to make him happy or distract him from shitty things, and what it looks like when his RSD kicks in and how to act around it.

Maybe he doesn’t Get It but it’s part of Joseph, and he loves all the other parts of Joseph too. And also tbh he’s a decent fuckin human being, even if he didn’t love Joseph so much he still wouldn’t act like an asshole about this stuff.)

[ilovemygaydad]

title: unexpected, but not unwelcome

prompt: Loceit with one falling asleep in the others lap for hours as the other pets his hair and tries not to wake them

pairings: loceit

warnings: sympathetic deceit, mentions of food, there’s an innuendo but it doesn’t MEAN the thing that it’s supposed to because logan.... is dumb and uncultured, things are worded sometimes to imply sex but they don’t, over-the-counter medicine usage, kissing, a singular swear, possibly something else

thank you to @darkrainbow333 for the idea :D

a/n: i... i’m gonna be honest here and say that i’m kind of in love with deceit rn... an unexpected but welcome feeling, one might say :3

@royallyanxious @glitchyred56 @ninja-girl2846 @low-key-aesthetic @leesacrakon @demonickittykat

When Logan had invited Deceit into his room to “Netflix and Chill,” he certainly hadn’t expected what had transpired.

Sure, it was rather obvious that Logan literally wanted to watch Netflix and relax together, and that happened. But then again, Deceit really hadn’t imagined to be in this position with someone that he considered to be more of a friendly acquaintance than anything.

About an hour into the documentary that Logan had chosen, the logical side’s eyes had started to droop. Deceit supposed that he had simply overworked himself that day, and he’d wanted to do something relaxing before calling it a night and going to bed. There was no point in calling it out as there was only thirty minutes left in the documentary, and Deceit had thought that Logan would wait it out and then immediately excuse himself; however...

Deceit had been very incorrect about that.

Logan, instead of fighting to stay awake, had unconsciously succumbed to his own sleepiness; his head slowly slumped to the side, ending up rested on his companion’s shoulder. Shocked, Deceit stared at Logan as though he were some kind of foreign entity for a few moments, but his hesitation to push Logan off had come with another unexpected outcome as the sleeping side’s body continued its descent into Deceit’s lap.

“Oh,” he whispered plainly. He stared down at Logan, unsure of what to do. Should he wake Logan up? Should he just let the obviously overworked side sleep?

With a gentle sigh, Deceit removed Logan’s glasses and hung them on the collar of his yellow sweater for later. He moved his hand once more to card his fingers through Logan’s hair. An uncharacteristically soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched the creases on Logan’s forehead smooth out.

The situation was unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome.

-

Deceit... was...

Damn it, he was in love.

With Logan, of course, which made things all the more unbearable because as much as Deceit wanted to believe otherwise, Logan didn’t care. Yes, he knew that the other sides had come to terms with the fact that Deceit was sticking around, but he also knew that Roman had taken great measures to attempt to make the others make Deceit feel more welcome. Although he was unsure of the reasoning behind that, he supposed that he could safely assume that Roman was looking for a way to placate him as a way to get him to fight less.

Using that knowledge, it was obvious that the only reason that Logan had asked him to “Netflix and Chill” all those weeks ago was to make Roman happy. After all, it wasn’t hard to notice that Logan continued to actively avoid him, and Deceit caught most of the quote-unquote “subtle glares” that Logan tended to send his way.

Logan, apart from Virgil, hated him the most out of the others. As much as it hurt to admit, Deceit was still the villain.

Deceit groaned and settled his head onto his desk. All of this brooding was making his head hurt. Sighing, he stood and snapped into his normal outfit sans hat, plus hood. He needed some freaking Tylenol.

In retrospect, it was foolish to believe that, even at four in the morning, the kitchen would be completely devoid of activity. Alas, Deceit had made an unfortunate assumption, thus leading him to pop up right behind the side that he wanted to avoid more than anyone else.

Damn it, Logan.

“Hell--Oh,” Logan said as he turned to greet the newcomer in the kitchen, faltering as his eyes landed on Deceit. “Good morning?”

“Absolutely. If you won’t excuse me, I wouldn’t like to grab some Tylenol.”

Deceit had made it a whole two feet in the direction of the medicine cabinet before Logan caught the back of his shirt, tugging him back. “Wait a moment. I... need to talk to you.”

Of freaking course. Here it comes. I’m going to be kicked out again.

Logan continued when he didn’t hear a reply, “I would like to begin by saying that I am well aware of how completely foolish and illogical all of this is, and that if you do not wish to engage with me after this, I won’t judge.” He took a deep breath, averting his eyes from Deceit. “It has come to my attention that I am... in love with you.”

“What?”

“It appears that you are the reason behind many symptoms such as giddiness, an unsettled stomach, and a decreased appetite, all of which I believe to be from, well, love. I will admit that I am rather shocked, as you have been seen as the antagonist of our group for a long time, but both Patton and Roman have told me that love is not necessarily a rational feeling. Unfortunate, really, but you are... very attractive, and if you aren’t opposed, I wish to have a romantic relationship with you.”

Deceit was honestly speechless. His brain couldn’t comprehend that the thing that he had wanted so badly had just thrust itself right in front of him. It was--

“Stupid,” Logan muttered. “This was an idiotic idea. What does Roman even know about lo--Oof!”

Admittedly, the force at which Deceit flung himself at Logan may have been a bit much, but he didn’t care one bit. “I love you, too.”

“Oh. That is... satisfactory.”

“Can I kiss you?” Deceit asked shyly as he pulled away from the hug.

“Absolutely.”

Their lips met in a soft kiss, and they were both too wrapped up in savoring every moment that they didn’t even notice Virgil had walked into the kitchen, only to walk right back out again.

[hollowcrovvn]

The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human (part 2)

Pairing: Connor x female!reader Rating: G for Gross Cute Crap Summary: Set two months after the ending of Detroit: Become Human, androids are living in government created “pop-up” communities while efforts are being made to integrate them into society. You are a grad-student volunteer with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit (DCRU), working to help with relief efforts… or at least, doing the work no one else wants to do. Which brings us to part 2.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (ao3)

The moment kept playing in your mind, giving you little snapshot glimpses of his face when he saw your phone number written on the cup. His face, perplexed, but so curious as he took in your every word with such rapt attention. 

“Ugh… no.” you whined towards the ceiling, throwing your head back and sinking further into your sofa. Some TV series played ideally while you tapped a stylus on the screen of your tablet, opened to some notes regarding your most recent class. You risked short glances over to your phone. 

“Stop it.” you said to yourself, “It’s not a big deal and you don’t even know if he’ll text.”

You sat silently for a moment, nearly forgetting about it in the thrall of the TV and procrastination on your assignment when your eyes slowly drifted over to it again.

“Son of a bitch.” you huffed, throwing tablet aside as you got up and made your way across the small one bedroom apartment to your smaller bathroom. You needed a shower and some comfy clothes and maybe some sleep. 

Several minutes later you came out from the bathroom, towel drying your hair and feeling a bit more human with the cold no longer biting at your skin still from the damp outside. You weren’t looking, not really, your eyes just fell to the phone on the small kitchen table and noticed the screen was list with an envelope icon.

You managed to pretend not to be interested for approximately fifteen seconds before you were over, picking up the phone and trying to not think about how fast your heart was going as you opened the message…

… which was just from your DCRU supervisor reminding you to go to the DPD station downtown after checking in on site tomorrow.

You felt your heart fall and sighed as you clicked the message and set a reminder. Someone in Jericho had requested a number of open human-on-android violence cases as well as android-on-human and someone had to go get the stats. Most android cases were still considered “sensitive” so the only way to get the information was from the source. It was a placating act, something to make Jericho not so hostile to DCRU and their efforts, even if they could realistically do nothing about the numbers. You wondered if you would be lucky enough for it to be the same station Connor worked at.

You took your phone and headed off to bed, setting your alarm. It was nearly 11:40, which was not ideal if you didn’t want to be a zombie tomorrow. Sighing, you flicked off your lamp and curled up, closing your eyes and tucking in. Your breath began to slow and your body relax when suddenly the darkness behind your eyelids lit.

You opened your eyes a slit and saw the envelope notification with a question mark attached.

[ new sender ]

[ accept msg y/n? ]

You never hit “y” so fast in your life. 

[ from: DPDCNSL#317

Thank you for agreeing to continue corresponding with me. I am looking forward to the experience.

And thank you for the coffee.

Have a good evening, ---.

Connor ]

And then before you could respond the little dots indicating he was responding popped up immediately.

[ from: DPDCNSL#317

Lieutenant Anderson has informed me that saying, “I am looking forward to the experience” sounds “creepy”. I am looking forward to being able to speak with you more.

Connor ]

You smiled and quickly wrote up a reply-- which you waited a few minutes to send because… like that is what you did right? You didn’t wanna reply too fast… right? You killed some time, changing his name in the message box.

[ from: ---

You’re welcome. And pls don’t thank me for that pitiful excuse for bean water. Next time, I’ll get you a latte and you’ll never be the same again. ]

[ from: Connor

You are correct, but not in the way I believe you think.

Regardless, I would like that. You are studying at Wayne State, correct? ]

You froze, staring at the words with shock. How the hell did he know that?

[ from: ---

You pull up my file, copper?]

[ from: Connor

I did a search on the internet. You came up under the staff listing as a research assistant for Urban Studies. Is that correct? There is no image, so it could be another ---. ]

[ from: ---

Bit weird to be searching for someone you just met. ]

[ from: Connor

I agree. Lieutenant Anderson located the information and sent it to my terminal. I was… curious. I apologize, I do not wish to cause you to feel uncomfortable. ]

It didn’t really matter much. All the information on the website was basic things and any social media you had was hidden from the outside. It was harmless, as far as most things went.

[ from: ---

It’s alright, next time you can just ask me. Though I think to make it up, you can buy me the coffee. Only fair. :)  ]

[ from: Connor

I do receive a salary now, so that is a possibility.

--- it is now almost midnight. You should be resting as you have already lost two hours of the recommended time for sleep. I would recommend lowering your caffeine intake to 300mg per day to prevent further sleep disturbance.

Good night, ---.  ]

[ from: ---

You can pry my coffee from my cold dead hands, hippy.

Good night.  ]

Wildly specific advice aside, it was-- kinda sweet. That bit that you assumed was a joke about “receiving a salary” got a small chuckle from you. After waiting a few minutes though, it appeared that he was done messaging for the night.

Not too bad, you hummed to yourself, First potential friend outside of campus in four years. Adult humaning at last.

---

“Checking in on site” was just code for “bring us all our coffee order before you do any real work” and you did so as usual, dropping the cups off at the various desks, crowded into the small “conference” building. All of the DCRU’s own buildings were of the same shake-n-bake quality as the shelters put up for the androids. They did little to hold out the chill, but they kept out the damp. Several people had space heaters beneath their desks or blankets wrapped around their legs.

After dropping off the last drink, you made your way over to the desk of the person you liked most of all the superiors, chiefly because he would never ask you to bring him coffee. His name was Josh, and he had served as one of Markus’ companions during the start and the heart of the revolution. Prior to Jericho, he had been a university professor, which was something you found common ground with.

He was sitting still, as if staring off into the distance, but a quick note of his eyes would show them flickering back and forth. He was reading.

“You ready to do some real work?” he said, voice tinged with faint humor as he continued to scan through whatever files were working their way through his synthetic mind. You’d gotten use to this.

“Yes, for the love of Markus Christ.” you huffed, enjoying in the private joke. Since the revolution there had been no less than 112 articles official and amateur declaring Markus as an android “Messiah”. Based upon Josh’s word, this caused the actual Markus a great deal of discomfort, but still the metaphor stuck.

“I’m going to have to tell Simon that one.” Josh said with a laugh, finally turning his eyes to you indicating he was finished with whatever he was working on.

“But first things first.” he said, pulling out a tablet and handing it to you. It was one of his.

“You know most of these “deviant” criminal cases are still on lock down?”

You nodded.

“We’ve gotten clearance to have the files downloaded. Part of our agreements with the government involve… some explaining. I won’t sugar coat it. Some of these open cases are violent, resulting in death of the human or the android or sometimes both.”

You swallowed, eyes flicking to the tablet as if there would suddenly appear images but there was only a menu showing how to accept file download.

“... death can be a hard topic for anyone. Even more so for your people when it involves Android on Human crimes. You may see some disturbing things. You alright with this?”

“Of course!” you said, a bit quickly and a bit more defensively than intended.

“I mean that… I want to do anything I can to help. I know that… I know they are pressuring to have these androids turned over for prosecution.”

If Josh were non-deviant, he wouldn’t have tensed at the words, but he did. 

“Historically speaking, we haven’t given any android justice. I know this is important. Anything I feel is secondary to that… is what I mean.”

Josh smiled warmly, standing up and hesitantly patting your shoulder.

“You remind me of my old students, ---. I’m sure you’ll do what you can.”

You nodded vigorously, because you would. 

---

It was too far and too cold to walk the length of Detroit back towards downtown, so you took an automated cab. You’d tucked Josh’s tablet safely away in a rucksack over your shoulder and flipped through your phone idly.

You hovered over the message window with Connor for a moment before quickly sending off a few lines.

[ from: ---

Just so there are no surprises, I’m heading to the DPD station rn for unrelated stuff. Might see you! ]

It took you way longer than necessary to actually hit send, but when you did you were shocked that his response was almost instantaneous. 

[ from: Connor

Unrelated to what? Also, are you alright? Do you have an open case with the DPD? ]

[ from: ---

It’s all good. And meant I just happen to be that way as opposed to ya know, stalking. ]

[ from: Connor

“Stalking” does imply stealth, which would be in direct opposition of your current actions if that was the intent. I agree that your  actions do not constitute “stalking”.  ]

You huffed a sigh, but then were startled as the message pinged again.

[ from: Connor

Bit weird though.  ]

You felt a smile slowly form at one corner of your lips

[ from: Connor

That was a joke, in case it was too vague.  ]

[ from: ---

I gotcha ;)

See you in a bit maybe.  ]

And with that, you shut off your phone’s display just in time to exit the cab out front of the DPD building. Inside, the DPD had the same tell tale signs of the android revolution with its lack of noticeable androids. It was not until you got up to the reception desk that it dawned on you they both were identical. They were androids, they had just removed their LED. She was even wearing a name tag that said, Alicia in clear bold font. She was wearing regular professional wear, no Android identifiers in sight.

You’d heard the DPD had gotten on board relatively quickly with providing androids with pay, not wanting to lose the bulk of their staff. While the cleaning crews were absent, the receptionist turned up her face and smiled pleasantly,

“Good morning, how may I assist you?”

“Good morning!” you said, a bit too quickly, “My name is ---, I’m here from the Crisis Response Unit. I have a meeting with Captain Fowler.”

“Yes, we were told to expect you! Do you have your I.D.?” she said, and you were struck by how… friendly she was, as opposed to all the other ST300’s you’d encountered. You pulled out your “badge”, which was nothing more than an I.D. card with a special DCRU designation stamp inside a flip wallet. You passed it to her and she scanned it quickly.

“You’re all set! Just head right through these gates here and go straight back. Fowler’s office is the one in the middle with the glass doors, it should not be hard to miss, but if you get lost just grab one of the officers. They all should know all too well where his office is.” she said with a faint laugh at some private joke.

You nodded, fumbling to put your I.D. with a quick “thank you” before you headed through the gates. It was bigger inside than you expected, with several desks and lots of people working, standing and having their morning coffee or otherwise engaged. You noted the glass enclosed office towards the middle of the room and headed in that direction. There were three people already waiting inside and two of which you recognized immediately.

Captain Fowler was up, preparing to come open the door for you, but Connor beat him in a few brisk steps.

Hank was grinning at you in that suspicious way that you recalled from grade school… like he knew something you didn’t. In this situation, it was pretty unsettling. Did they find that parking ticket from sophomore year?!

“Good morning Ms. ---, please, have a seat.” Fowler gestured to the one other empty chair next to Hank, “These two suspect characters are Lieutenant Hank Anderson and his partner, Connor. They have been working the deviant android cases since the start.”

Connor politely offered you his hand, which you took. He squeezed gently, mischief glinting in those brown eyes before he let go and all but ushered you to your seat. Hank snorted.

“We’ve met.” Hank said, disregarding any pleasantries. 

Fowler looked surprised.

“We frequent the same coffee shop.” you added, “So it was a very brief meeting.”

“You’re lucky.” Fowler said, eyeing Hank with disapproval. Hank seemed oblivious, or more likely, immune.

“We’ve been informed that the ADA’s office is seeking to prosecute these androids. It is highly likely that they are being concealed among the deviants at the relief camp.” Fowler leaned back in his chair, “So, we’ve been told to assist you in whatever way you need.”

“Some of us are a bit too eager…” you heard Hank muttered under his breath. Connor’s eyes trailed on him slowly, making no expression you could see but Hank must have gotten the message because he grumbled and slumped back.

“I appreciate that, Captain Fowler.” you began, “Markus has agreed that his people will search into the population of their androids for these individuals. It’s a good start to integrate androids into the justice system.”

Though you had your own opinions regarding the effectiveness of that. How could any android expect a fair trial when a jury of their peers would most likely be full of humans? But that was a topic for another time and place.

“These files are sealed, so we are requesting a downloaded copy so that efforts can be made to locate these androids.”

Captain Fowler looked unconvinced.

“I have confirmation from the governor and the President’s staff approving this request, if you would like to see it. The governor also said you might like to call her office as well.”

“I think I will do that. In the meanwhile, if you’d gentleman escort Ms. --- to the break-room where she might be a bit more comfortable?”

Hank stood and gave Connor a hard pat, “All you buddy.”

He left without a second glance.

“Right this way. ---.” Connor said, Chief Fowler now too engrossed with his phone to notice Connor used your first name.

It was hard to contain a smile as you walked alongside the detective, following him to a small break-room.

“Coffee?” he asked and you nodded briskly. He poured some of the dark, strong smelling liquid into a mug that read “#1 Dad” and after considering for a moment, pot still in his hand, he poured another.

Bringing both he came to sit with you at a rickety table, stabilized by a half folded paper plate under one leg.

“Don’t think this counts.” you said, taking the mug in both hands, enjoying the warmth if not the overly strong taste.

Connor did not drink.

“You work with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit?” he said, getting right to the point.

“Volunteered. Don’t give me too much credit though. When I joined up, it was all about flooding relief. The Android situation was a surprise.”

“Do you dislike Androids?” he asked.

“Wow. Talk about a hot button topic, Connor. You sure you don’t wanna ask me what my favorite color is first? My favorite movie?”

“No. I would much rather know your stance on the current events seeing as you are working as a relief volunteer.”

Direct. You hid behind the lip of the mug, feeling his eyes keenly on you.

“Why do you wanna know?” you countered, taking a small sip.

“I’m simply curious as to how you feel about your current assignment.”

“I feel just fine.” you said, “I guess… well. Guess sometimes they just spook me. Just like most people.”

“I see.” Connor said, seeming to relax a fraction, “You are afraid of them?”

“Not “afraid” just-- reasonably cautious.”

Connor seemed to be processing this, tapping his fingertips against the mug in his hand and watching himself do so intently.

“You worked on “deviant” cases for awhile, yeah?” you began, “Are… do they make you nervous? Because that’d be understandable given what you’ve seen.”

“They-- did. Before. Now I realize it’s the same as humans. We’re all capable of violence.”

Before you could continue, another man walked into the break-room, smile slick as oil.

“Well, there you are, tin-can.” he said with a smirk, picking up the coffee pot and sloshing some of it onto the counter as he poured a mug full.

“Whose this?” he said, giving you a smirk.

“A liaison from DCRU.” Connor replied coolly, bringing the coffee mug to his lips.

“Is that even good for your health, Con?” the man asked, but Connor ignored him.

“And who is this charming fellow.” you asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Detective Reed. Gavin, Reed.” he answered, giving you a wink, “Now I can see why Con here was in such a hurry to get his ring off before you showed up.”

Ah. That. That was. Not expected. Your blood ran cold, eyes immediately falling to Connor’s left hand as if you’d catch sight of a tan line or some other indicator that you’d been incredibly stupid.

“I got some super glue over at my desk if you need a quick fix.” he said, tapping Connor’s chair with the toe of his boot. Connor, looked somewhere between deflated and coldly controlled anger.

Hank’s appearance in the break room door thankfully put a halt to whatever was going on between the two men, his eyes fixing Gavin with a vicious glare.

“Don’t you have reports to finish, detective?” he said, circling in so that Gavin was forced to walk towards the door.

“Just tryin’ be a good wing-man for my bro, Connor.” he said, disappearing into the hall with a laugh.

Hank looked between you and Connor, noting the change in your demeanor, arms pulled in and looking anywhere but at his partner.

“Fowler uh-- got the call. You can come over to my desk and we’ll get you sorted.”

You hurriedly stood, fishing out your tablet so you’d be ready to download those files and get out of here as soon as possible.

Connor said nothing in his defense, but he watched you intently, searching.

“... thanks for the coffee.” you said, following Hank out.

---

Connor did not join you at Hank’s desk, which must not have been part of the plan because every few seconds Hank looked over his shoulder for him.

“Here. You should get a prompt to download any second now. There are photos, so if you’re squeamish I advised ya not look at the screen while they are downloading.”

You took his advice, letting the tablet drop unceremoniously to the desk as you leaned against it, arms crossed.

Hank was not scowling for once, but you were, brows furrowed tight and troubled.

“Look… ---, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t-- just don’t judge Connor before you get to know him. I know he’s a weird one. I know most people, hell even me, have this innate prejudice, but he likes you. Which is a big deal for him. He’s learning how this goes, so I don’t know-- maybe give him a break.”

“... did… did his wife die or something?”

Hank stared at you, eyes wide and confused.

“His wife.” he repeated, not so much a question but a confirmation of whether or not you were a rambling idiot.

“That detective! Gavin whatever-the-hell said that Connor took off his ring before I got here!”

Hank groaned, resting his face in his hand as he shook his head. The sound quickly turned into a laugh of sorts. He looked back up at you with that same mystified look he had before.

“You really don’t know. Kid, Connor took off his LED before you got here. That’s what Gavin meant. He’s an android.”

A lot, like a lot of things suddenly made sense now.

You sunk into a nearby chair, dazed.

“You really had no idea? With how fuckin’ weird he is?”

“I thought he was just… like, ya know. A hipster intellectual.”

Hank choked on nothing, busting into a loud laugh, “Well you ain’t wrong, kid!”

The tablet pinged, indicating it had finished downloading. Hank popped up, dismissing the file before you could pick it up.

“Like I said. Some gory stuff. I’d advise you get that to whoever wants it and not go poking around in it.” he handed you the tablet, “And for god’s sake, go talk to him before you leave. You’re the first person he’s been around that ain’t me and trust me, that’s good for him.”

You ran your hands over the tablet’s smooth sides, mind going a hundred miles a minute. You turned to leave and saw Connor coming back towards the desks, seeing clearly now the flashing LED he had replaced on the side of his temple.

His expression was blank, but you had dealt with enough androids that you could just faintly see the lines of nervousness and… hopefulness as he passed you.

You caught his forearm, touching the same place where androids connected systems.

“... I don’t dislike androids.” you whispered, risking a look at him through your eyelashes. He was-- smiling and it was so damn beautiful you felt the wall you had started constructing around your heart from Gavin’s words crack open.

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

You smiled, “Text me when you are ready to shell out for that latte.” and gave his arm one last small squeeze before heading out of the station.

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

The Lounge Singer

*Anthony Ramos x Reader

*Summary: Anthony goes to a networking event with Leslie and is smitten with the lounge singer performing.

*Warnings: None, I think

*A/N: So I wrote this one a bit differently than normal. Btw, the 21 Chump Street fic is in the works rn, for anyone curious about that. I also kind of have an idea for a Sonny (In the Heights) x Reader, and I still need to finish up the next part to Wave (does anyone even remember that story?). THIS TOOK LIKE A WEEK TO WRITE JFC

Anthony didn’t know how he ended up here, dressed up yet still incredibly out of place. That was a lie, he knew exactly how he got into this. Leslie had been invited to some networking event for his music and his wife was busy that night, so he asked around the theater to see if anyone wanted to go with him. Anthony, of course, took up the offer, just so he could have plans. So yeah, Anthony had no right to say he had no idea how he ended up at the event. Anthony had already lost track of Leslie when Leslie got swept away by some manager or something, he actually hadn't been paying attention.

It hadn’t been until the event had been running for about an hour when Anthony spotted a live band setting up, piquing his interest. He scanned the group, eyes landing on a gorgeous, (h/c) haired girl in a black dress talking to a guy setting up his bass. Anthony could have sworn his heart stopped when he saw her throw back her head in laughter at something the guy said. He immediately wanted to approach her, but was stopped by Leslie’s sudden appearance at his side. “Hey, man, I lost you for a second there,” Leslie said, clapping a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “Those agents seriously get talkative.”

“Yeah,” Anthony mumbled, still watching her interact with the bassist. He could hear Leslie saying something else, but it was just a dull droning noise in his ears at that point. It wasn’t until Leslie started snapping his fingers in front of Anthony’s face that his attention was drawn back to his friend. “Sorry, what?”

“You think she’s just gonna automatically know you wanna talk to her? Go, man, before her set starts,” Leslie teased, nudging him slightly in her direction. “Trust me, she’s nice.”

“Wait, you know her? What’s her name?” Anthony asked, trying to appear nonchalant, but failing. Leslie’s smile told him that he hadn’t been subtle at all, his slight infatuation was already making itself apparent.

“That’s (y/n). She’s one of the youngest people on the scene that I know,” Leslie replied, nudging him again. “It wouldn’t hurt to talk to her.”

“Nah, maybe I sho-” Anthony was cut off by the deep sound of the bass’ first note. His attention was drawn away from Leslie as she shot the bassist a smile before stepping up to the microphone at center stage. She closed her eyes as the band played the starting notes for whatever song she was about to sing. Her slight swaying with the beat made Anthony wonder if she was that way with all music, or if it was just the song.

“You’re gonna want to stop just staring at her and actually listen,” Leslie muttered, eyes softening as his gaze shifted from Anthony to her. As Anthony was about to respond, she started singing.

Her voice caught him off guard. Anthony knew she had to be good, especially if she was performing in a room full of musicians older than her, but the way her voice carried the words throughout the room was indescribable. She made every word sound intimate, like she was letting the room in on a secret that only she knew, not even mentioning the way she held herself on stage. The slight sway had given way to her grasping the microphone stand, eye contact flitting between people in the crowd. Anthony started when her (e/c) eyes met his, her painted lips curling into a smile of her own before looking elsewhere in the crowd. It was almost erotic, the way she performed.

Her set hadn’t lasted long, only six songs, but Anthony knew he needed to meet her. Just as he was about to search the crowd with Leslie, a sweet voice stopped them. “Leslie Odom Jr, I know you aren’t going to sneak out without saying hi.”

“(Y/n), you know I wouldn’t,” Leslie laughed as he turned to face her. Anthony was dumbfounded, she was even more beautiful up close, if that was possible. “We were actually about to go look for you. (Y/n), this is Anthony, we work together on Broadway.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her smile blinding. Anthony just stood there before he shook out of it, remembering that he needed to greet her, not just make a fool of himself.

“Yeah, you too. You were great up there,” Anthony replied, fumbling a bit as he felt his face heating up. “Like, your voice, it’s amazing.”

“Aw, thanks,” she told him before turning back to Leslie. “How’s Nicolette doing? I haven’t talked to her in ages.”

“She’s doing great, we all need to get together soon,” Leslie answered. As Anthony wracked his brain for something to say, the bassist she’d been talking to earlier walked up, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Anthony felt a pang of something (jealousy? Disappointment?) rush through him. Of course she’d have a boyfriend.

“Hey, (y/n). Who’re these guys?” the bassist asked, nodding at Anthony and Leslie.

“This is Leslie and Anthony,” she told him. “Leslie’s an old friend, and Anthony is his friend. Guys, this is Eddie, the new bassist for the group.” Anthony was relieved, because if Eddie was her boyfriend, she’d introduce him that way, right? Anthony knew that he’d probably only have the night to woo her, and he was determined to make that happen. Leslie seemed to notice the shift in Anthony’s attitude, shooting a somewhat sly glance at his friend. The night was definitely going to be interesting.

After the night at the networking event, Anthony had somehow managed to get her number. He guessed that she found his fumbling, blushing self endearing, if not attractive. They’d been texting and calling daily, but their schedules never aligned to see each other. It was either she was in the studio working on her next album, or he was busy with rehearsals or shows. Anthony was texting her during rehearsal when Leslie came up to him, a knowing smile on his face. “That (y/n) again?”

“Yeah, she has some time before her next studio hour,”  Anthony replied, not looking up from his phone. He didn’t want to miss anything she was saying, especially since he only had ten minutes to talk to her.

“Has she told you yet?” Leslie asked, making Anthony look up at him, confused. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“No, what’re you talking about?”

“Well, she's coming to a show next week,” Leslie informed him. “I'm using one of my comps on her, so you're welcome.”

“Wait, what?” Anthony asked, slightly panicking. The only plus side about only being able to text her was he couldn't make a complete fool of himself like when they first met. Of course he was excited to see her again, but he'd managed to talk to her somewhat normally when he wasn't looking at her face. “Leslie, why'd you do that?!”

“Because both of you guys keep talking about each other to me and it's getting old,” Leslie said, rolling his eyes.

“Oo, are we talking about (y/n)?” Lin asked as he walked by the two.

“Yeah, she’s coming to see the show next week,” Leslie told him.

“Great! We’ll finally get to meet Anthony’s mystery girl,” Lin said, waggling his eyebrows. Anthony groaned, knowing it was just a recipe for disaster. If anyone caught wind of even the idea that Anthony liked her, they'd do their best to embarrass him more than he'd already manage. He wasn’t sure if he’d mess things up more by asking her not to come, or by letting his cast mates actually interact with her.

“Just, please don’t embarrass me in front of her,” Anthony requested, looking between his friends. When they nodded in agreement, Anthony walked away, looking back down at his phone as he sent her another text. Once he was out of earshot, Lin turned to Leslie.

“Does she have it as bad as him?” Lin asked.

“Definitely, if not worse,” Leslie told him, nodding. “She asks about him a lot when we talk.”

“Looks like we’re going to have to play Cupid here,” Lin replied. “In the name of young love.” Leslie laughed, knowing that it’d be easier to get the two together if he had Lin on his team. If all things went according to plan, Anthony and (y/n) would be together by the end of next week.

Just before the show was about to start, Anthony found himself scanning the crowd to see if he could catch even a glimpse of her. He knew he was just freaking himself out, but he wanted to see if spotting her in the crowd would placate his nerves any. If he knew where she was sitting, then he’d know where to look during the end of A Winter’s Ball and curtain call. And, if Lin had anything to do with it, her seat would probably end up somewhere in the front, Anthony was sure of it. Just as he was about to give up, Anthony spotted her. She was dressed in a red dress, a stark contrast from the black dress he’d first seen her in. She was chatting with the person next to her, eyes bright with laughter.

“Places,” the stage manager called, jerking Anthony out of his reverie. He smiled to himself as he took his spot, determined to put on the best performance he could possibly give just for her. Throughout the show, Anthony kept peeking over at her, trying to gauge her reactions to the show. She was completely enthralled, and during the Laurens interlude, Anthony could have sworn he saw her crying. It took everything in him not to crack a small smile when he saw that, but to know that she’d been moved by his performance as Laurens was satisfying. Anthony was achieving his goal for the night, and he knew he had to completely kill it as Philip too.

By intermission, word spread of Anthony’s crush being at the show. He faced endless teasing, along with Daveed’s light-hearted ‘steal your girl’ jokes. They did nothing to curb his enthusiasm, though. Before he knew it, the show was already coming to an end. When it came time for curtain, Anthony looked out at the crowd to see her wiping tears from her eyes once again. Once she noticed he was looking at her, she gave him a small wave. Anthony’s heart swelled, shooting her a proud smile.

Anthony rushed to get out of his costume, knowing Leslie had already sent someone to invite her backstage. When he got back, he saw her gushing about the show to Lin, eyes bright with excitement. “Hey, (y/n)!” Anthony called, unable to stop smiling.

“Anthony!” She called back, bidding Lin a quick goodbye before rushing up to hug Anthony. “Oh my gosh, that was so good! I cried both times you died, you were freaking amazing. I can't believe I was going to do a pop up show instead of coming to this, I'm so glad Leslie called me before I announced it.”

“Knowing you, you already planned another one tomorrow,” Leslie laughed, startling the two as he walked up.

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” she replied, hugging Leslie. “Seriously, the show was so good. You guys were amazing. I’m actually having a pop-up show tomorrow, you guys should come if you can make it.”

“We’re in,” Leslie answered without hesitation for the both of them. “We're not performing tomorrow, so just tell us the time and place.”

“Sure thing, guys,” she said, bright smile finding its way back on her face. She was about to say something to Anthony, but her attention was quickly drawn away. “Hold up, is that Oak? He was amazing,” she muttered, looking off to the side. Before Anthony even processed it, she had pressed a kiss to his cheek and ran off to talk to Oak.

“Did that just?” Anthony mumbled, trailing off as he pressed his fingertips where she kissed him.

“You’re in, my friend,” Leslie laughed, clapping a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony watched her as she flitted about the backstage area, talking to everyone there. Leslie took Anthony’s shock as an even better sign, and moved his mental plan for the two up by a few days. This would definitely be easier than he thought.

Anthony was buzzing with excitement as he waited for her set to start. She was performing at a small lounge-type place, with only maybe 70 people in the room. Anthony and Leslie were sat near the bar, Leslie trying to make conversation while Anthony essentially ignored him. Anthony looked around the room, observing the types of people that went to her show. There was a small group of teenagers near the stage, a group of older men by the bar, but mostly people around his age waiting for her to start.

“You know that’s not going to make the show start sooner, right?” Leslie asked, finally getting Anthony’s attention.

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Anthony laughed. Just as Leslie was about to say something, Anthony shushed him, eyes drawn back to the stage as she walked up. “Shut up, she’s starting.”

“Yeah, I have eyes,” Leslie replied, turning his attention to her. She looked out at the crowd, scanning the faces. When she saw Leslie and Anthony, her smile widened as she waved at them. Leslie could tell the gesture was more for Anthony than him, her excitement practically rolling off of her.

“Hey, guys. So, before I start, last night I went to see something you might’ve heard of. Anyone here familiar with Hamilton?” She joked, looking at the crowd near the stage. The teens made sounds of agreement, somewhat nervous about interacting with her. “Yeah, I thought so. Anyways, my friends Leslie and Anthony are in it, and Leslie got me a ticket. It was seriously amazing, so I just had to stay up all night and arrange this little piece to perform tonight. By the way, I was going to have this show yesterday, but Leslie invited me, so blame him for me pushing the show back. Or thank him, who knows?”

As the crowd laughed, the band started playing a song that was all too familiar to Anthony. After all, he had to sing three different versions of it every show. The way she sang it appeared to be a mixture of the Laurens Interlude and the original version of The Story of Tonight, making it something all her own. Anthony watched with rapt attention, knowing he’d never be able to perform it again without thinking of her. When she was finished, there was loud applause, Anthony most likely being the loudest of them all. She blushed, quickly looking down before continuing her show.

When the set was over, again being a short one, Anthony rushed up to her, despite his best efforts to not appear too excited. She was talking with the group of teens, joking about something when he got there. “Hey, (y/n), you were great,” Anthony told her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thanks! I’m glad you liked it. I didn’t butcher your song too bad, right?” She joked, smile turning somewhat nervous.

“Not at all, I won’t be able to sing it without thinking of you now,” Anthony replied, silently admonishing himself for actually saying what he was thinking aloud.

“I actually kind of need to talk with you, meet me in the hall when I’m done here?” She suggested, nodding her towards the people waiting to meet her. Anthony agreed, making his way to the exit while she began making her rounds with the fans. He saw her talking to Leslie briefly, a light blush dusting her features as he talked. Anthony left then, pacing up and down the hall as he waited for her. He couldn’t think of anything that’d warrant him being nervous, save for the possibility she somehow found out about his little crush and was trying to let him down gently.

Just as Anthony’s mind was about to delve deeper, she opened the door to the hall, slipping out and shutting it gently behind her. “Hey,” Anthony said lowly, coming to a stop near her.

“Hey,” she nearly whispered, a small smile on her lips.

“So, uh, what’d you want to talk about?” Anthony stuttered slightly, trying not to let his nervousness show.

“Listen, I kinda really like you and I know that’s weird since we’ve only met in person like three times even though we text each other a lot and I don’t even know if you have a girlfriend. You know what, this is stupid, I shouldn’t’ve-” Anthony pressed his lips to hers, interrupting her rambling. He did it without thinking, just feeling like it was the right thing to do. He panicked for a second when she didn’t kiss back, and just as he was about to pull away, she seemed to snap out of a trance. She kissed him, tentatively at first, growing more insistent until finally they needed to break for air. “So, I’m guessing you like me too?” She joked.

“Yeah, you could definitely say that,” Anthony laughed, kissing her again.

“Aw, that’s so cute. I didn’t even need to get Lin to help me meddle,” Leslie spoke up from the door, startling the new couple.

“How long have you been standing there?” She asked, a deep blush covering her face at having been caught.

“Long enough,” Leslie replied with a shrug. “I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving, stay safe, you two.” Her and Anthony just stood there, still trying to process what had happened as they watched Leslie leave.

“Wait, did he just say that Lin knew?” She asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, apparently I wasn’t all that subtle,” Anthony told her. “What can I say? You’re amazing, (y/n).”

“You’re adorable,” she laughed, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. “I need to get back in there, maybe we can hang out afterwards?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Anthony smiled, watching her go. As soon as he was sure she couldn’t see him, he pumped his fist, celebrating silently. He’d gotten the girl he didn’t think he could, and with little intervention from his friends. Now he just needed to figure out what to do for their first unofficial date.