#anon clarified in another ask that they wanted him laughing or smiling genuinely so here he is

[princema-k]

Request for a Dimitri maybe? Love your art <3

thank u lots!!! he liked ur joke :)

[gay-dorito-dust]

ok what if reader is also a vigilante?

reader and Jason met in their civilian identities, and after a while they start dating. but like, neither of them tells the other one about their vigilante identities? and then something random happens and they both find out in a funny way?

(alsooo can I be 🐈‍⬛? :3)

Idk if this is considered ‘funny’ but I tired, oh and Yes, you may be 🐈‍⬛ anon. 🦦

When you first met Jason in the cosy book store, you were far too concerned with keeping your stint as a vigilante as close to a secret as possible, so much so that the mere aspect of dating wasn’t something you contemplated on a day to day basis; Never less dating a civilian when you’re fighting street level thugs. However you couldn’t help but get lost in the beauty of his smile, his eyes and the way he ran his hand through his hair.

All you were aware in that moment was that Jason is just perfection in a six foot something frame. He was just that beautiful that you couldn’t find yourself looking away from him, ever; It had to be illegal to be that beautiful.

When Jason first met you in the cosy book store, trying to reach for a book that was just out of reach, he was far too concerned about the new vigilante that had taken to the street of Gotham. Nightshade was their name and they obviously had natural talent but were still sloppy in some areas, but they showed enough promise in their debut outing to be apart of the Outlaws. Dating was the last thing he needed honestly, despite affection, loyalty and love were something he deeply longer for more so then anything, however he felt a little tempted by the idea when you gave him a look of gratitude as he handed you the book was enough to set him alight.

‘Jason.’ He blurted.

‘Come again?’ You asked.

‘My name. It’s Jason.’ He clarified, internally cursing himself for making himself looking like a right idiot in front of you, but you just had that effect on him and it hadn’t even been ten minutes upon meeting you. Was he really that depraved? He asked himself as in that very moment you decided to smile at him, which gave him his answer that yes, he was indeed that depraved for a genuine connection. ‘Well it’s nice to meet you Jason. I’m y/n.’ You greeted, finding Jason absolutely endearing and insufferably cute. ‘Do you often help people with books or is it just a one time thing?’ You then asked, holding the book close to your chest, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘I don’t come here as often as I promised myself I would, so consider this as a rare occurrence.’ Jason shrugged, leaning against the shelf. ‘So do you come here often or are you a fellow procrastinator?’ You chuckled and Jason has to pat himself on the back for that one. He managed to make you laugh and god did it sound ethereal. ‘I’m kinda a fellow procrastinator but that’s because I’ve been busy with life and such.’ You told him, not wanting to admit to everything to a conventionally attractive man you’ve just met at a small, run down book store just yet; You didn’t want to fuck this up for yourself.

‘Oh yeah? Then maybe if you come here more often, I’ll have more of a reason to stop by other than the books.’ Jason said and you felt your smile even wider and tighten your grip on the book, casting your eyes to the floor. Curse this beautiful man for making you feel like a silly little schoolgirl either way a crush, it was both embarrassing as it was all consuming. ‘Sounds like you’re asking me on a date, mr Jason.’

Jason shrugs. ‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I mean is it wrong for me to want to get to know you better?’

‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt.’ You admitted.

‘So it’s a date?’ Jason asked, anticipating your answer.

‘Yeah. It’s a date.’ You replied, feeling a warmth flood through your body, followed by a feeling of nervousness simultaneously it was hard to figure out which feeling you should focus on.

Several book store dates, skirting your obvious feelings for one another and moving into his apartment later, you and Jason were officially a couple: and a happy one at that. And yet despite sharing everything to one another, every deep secret you’ve ever kept in your entire life and yet the one secret neither of you chose to disclose was your vigilante identities, and for simple and justifiable reasons on both your parts; You didn’t want Jason to be brought into the crossfire as a casualty and Jason didn’t want you to get hurt because of the dangerous people he wronged as RedHood. You’ve both hated yourselves for keeping a tight lid on your vigilantism but you knew it was for the betterment of the other, after all ignorance was indeed -on some occasions- bliss.

However on this very night, everything you and Jason have ever hidden from the other had decided to come to light but not in a way that’d either of you were expecting.

You and Jason were cuddled up on the couch and enjoying a peaceful evening in together, seeing as for a week straight both of you have had your hands full with capturing and clearing the streets of Gotham of thugs, goons and drug dealers, and actually getting the golden opportunity to act like an ordinary couple and shower the other in the love and affection that you’ve both been aching for the entire week.

‘You need to get some better sleep Jaybirdie, I can see dark bags starting to form under your eyes.’ You mutter softly as you run your calloused thumbs under his eyes, naturally concerned for his health and well-being. ‘Are you saying that I’m not that appealing to look at anymore because I’m developing eye bags? How shallow of you babe.’ Jason joked as he moved his face from your hands and looking away from you with a pout on his lips.

You laughed, reaching to hold his face in your hands again and gently made him look at you. ‘Stop being dramatic my little Jay bird, I think you make eyes bags work for you but I just don’t like the idea of you staying up longer than you should.’ You said as you kissed his lips and then under his eyes, feeling him hum in content as he dragged you into him tightly. ‘I appreciate the compliment babe.’ He said as he pressed a kiss to your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in deeply. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t had enough time with each other lately.’

You burrowed yourself deeper into him, hands clutching at his shirt. ‘it’s okay Jason and besides I should sorry too because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now. I hope you don’t hate me afterwards.’ You admit, scared that this might break your beautiful relationship with the sweetest man you’ve ever met, who had been nothing but unquestionably loyal to you through and through. ‘You could do no wrong pretty baby,’ Jason cooed, ‘but since we’re sharing things, I have something that I’ve been keeping from you also sweetheart.’ Jason said as he feared that he’d only be scaring you away afterwards and he can only hope that you’d stay and hear him out.

‘No, Jason you don’t-‘ you were cut off by the sound of two emergency alerts going off from your shared bedroom and before leaping off of Jason’s lap, much to his displeasure and worry, and rushed towards the bedroom with Jason hot on your heels going on about something you couldn’t quite make out over the noise of the emergency alerts. It was rare that it goes off and when it does, it’s when someone like scarecrow or Joker has made a reemergence to the public and when they do, nothin good ever comes to pass.

Within the depths of your shared closet in your bedroom were two equal sized duffel bags. Inside these duffel bags held everything to do with your vigilante personas that you and Jason had hastily shoved inside, and all before you officially moved into his apartment too. You never touched his out of respect for him and he never touched yours out of respect also, you both knew which one belong to who as they also sat just beneath your own civilians clothes, that and the fact that Jason’s duffel bag was a lot more beat up and rugged compared to yours which only had slight wears and tears; but other then that it was relatively a new bag.

Right of this moment however you didn’t stop to think about which bag you’ve picked up because before you knew it you had locked yourself within the bathroom, just about ready to change into your attire, when you were face to face with a familiar red helmet causing you to freeze in place. While you were trying to grasp the idea that your beautiful, beautiful Jason was the ruthless RedHood, a knock on the bathroom door broke you from your thoughts, and you automatically knew that Jason saw your vigilante attire and was feeling a similar sort of confusion towards you as you were about him. You placed the red helmet back into the duffle bag, zipped it shut before unlocking and opening the door wide enough for Jason to hold out your duffel bag towards you.

‘I believe this is yours sweetheart.’ He said awkwardly.

‘Thank you Jaybirdie.’ You mutter as you took the bag off of him, placing it down on the toilet seat as you picked up his duffel bag and handed it to him through the gap in the doorway. ‘I believe this belongs to you.’

‘Thank you sweetheart.’ Jason replied as he took the bag off of your hands as an uncomfortable air of silence followed as you both stood on either sides of the door, not knowing how to properly address the situation. Until… ‘I knew I recognise that ass in spandex anywhere.’

‘JASON!’ You exclaimed, face becoming flushed.

‘What? It’s true you’ve got a distinctly shaped ass! So of course I’m going to recognise it!’ Jason replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

‘So you’ve admitted to staring at my ass like a perv?’ You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason pushed the bathroom door open fully to get closer to you and hold your face in his hands. ‘Don’t start acting like you haven’t stared at my ass like a perv, perv.’ He says with a chuckle upon seeing the expression upon your face, pressing kisses from your forehead and all the way down to the tip of your nose. ‘I thought you wouldn’t notice.’ You murmur softly, making Jason laugh as he lead you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where he then sat you down on the end of the bed and held your hand.

‘Well unfortunately for you, I do notice and I can’t say I don’t like the attention that I’d get for my charming parent.’ Jason says as he kisses the back of your hand. ‘You’re not mad that I’m a vigilante and have been keeping it from you all this time?’ You asked, running your thumb over his hand. ‘No because it would be quite hypocritical if I did because I’ve been keeping the same secret hidden from you also. Would you be mad at me being RedHood?’ Jason asked and you immeditly replied ‘no because I know you did so to keep me safe.’

‘Ans I know that you didn’t tell me for the exact same reason.’ Jason butted in. ‘Now that we know however, this just means that we’re even more of a kick ass couple because we literally kick ass every night and I couldn’t be more prouder of you baby.’ He add as he presses kisses to your face, making you chuckle before pulling away. ‘But that doesn’t mean I won’t stop worry about my baby. So expect a whole lot of team ups in the future okay chipmunk?’ You pressed a kiss to his cheek before stealing one from his lips as you stood up from the bed, tugging at his arm. ‘Why don’t we start teaming up now? RedHood and Nightshade, they’ll never see us coming by a long shot!’ You said and Jason couldn’t help but smile at your excitement as he then stood up, groaning dramatically. ‘Alright, alright, quick pulling my arm and get changed so we can go catch us some bad guys.’

You beamed brightly as you stole another kiss from his lips. ‘I love you Jaybirdie.’

‘The things I do for you buttercup.’ Jason spoke against your lips as he kisses you again.

[lovvecherrymotion]

Bojere & 17 for the kiss

thank you so much for your request, anon! sorry i took a little, but i hope you enjoy this! 💚

Bojere: ... to distract.

Jere can see Bojan’s anxiety grow bigger as the time for the flight approached. He’s clearly trying to make an effort not to let it affect him or the time they’re spending together, but Jere can tell he’s not being exactly successful.

So he’s determined to make it better – because it’s what Bojan deserves, after all.

“Do you want to take me to that nice place again before you drive me to airport?” He asks and Bojan focus his attention on him; his expression confused as if he hasn’t heard a single word Jere said. “Those three bridges over river? I can’t remember if you said name. Slovenian words are difficult.”

“No, I don’t think I told you.” Bojan smiles and Jere finds himself feeling a little relieved after that. “And you Slovenian has improved a bit since you got here. You remember how to say thank you, now!” And he gets a small laugh out of Bojan which he counts as victory.

“Not everyone can be language genuius like you, Bojan! Don’t laugh!” He feigns being hurt and gets another genuine laugh out of him.

“Don’t worry; we can keep working on that for your next visit.”

The mention of a next visit seems to bring some of the tension back and Jere hates it. He knows he’s partially to blame – he’s never taken Bojan’s love and affection for granted but he knows Bojan has always gone above and beyond to meet him, despite having a pretty busy chedule himself. When Jere had told him he’d finally found the time to go to Slovenia, on a short five day trip, he had seen Bojan light up, with an expression of pure joy and happiness on his face, making Jere wonder how he couldn’t have found the time before. He’s feeling just a little bit guilty now because… he knows Bojan is probably wondering how long it’ll take until the next visit (of if there’ll even be a next one after all).

“By next visit, I speak flu- flue- really good Slovenian.” He jokes, trying to keep the mood light. “Better than Bojan speaking Finnish!”

“We’ll see about that.” Bojan teases back. “How long do you need to finish packing?”

“Fifteen minutes and then we can leave.”

They head out of Bojan apartment twenty minutes later, Jere’s bag already in the backseat. They’re taking advantage of all the minutes they can get until it’s time for Jere to board and Jere wants nothing more but to make sure Bojan enjoys every single moment they have together. As they drive, he wants nothing more than hold Bojan’s hand; hold him close and reassure him it’ll be okay – and as Bojan seems to get lost in his thoughts again, as they park the car, and prepare to head out, Jere can’t stop himself anymore.

“Bojan,” he calls, so softly and lovingly it even surprises himself. He’s glad there’s no one around the parking lot (he’s very aware that, just like him, Bojan isn’t really afforded much privacy in his home country and they have to be careful). “I want to enjoy time with you. Please stop thinking about sad things.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t make my brain shut up.” And he offers him an apologetic smile. “I don’t want to ruin our last few hours together.”

Jere hesitates for just a second, taking a quick glance outside. There still seems to be no one around, so he guesses he can take a little bit of a risk. “Can I try?” Bojan raises an eyebrow, questioning, and Jere is quick to clarify. “To make your brain shut up?”

“I’m not sure how, but do your best.”

Jere holds Bojan’s face gently between his hands and he sees his eyes soften at the touch. He hasn’t done this in the last five days – he hasn’t done it in way too long, because he’d been too afraid – but Bojan’s reaction tells him it’s the right choice. He closes the distance between them, feeling how soft Bojan’s lips are against his, a hint of smoke and coffee. It’s brief and sweet, but when he pulls away, he sees just how much happier Bojan looks.

“I did good job distracting you?” He asks. “Or do I need to give you another one?”

“Maybe one more, just to be sure.”

And Jere is more than happy to do so.

[straighttohellbuddy]

warmth {c!Technoblade}

Anon said: what about soft domestic mornings with techno? sleepy back hugs and tea and cooking breakfast the way you know they like

Summary: The morning is cold, but bed is warm, Techno is warm. You don't want to get up. So you don't.

A/N: 1098 words. so unbelievably fluffy and soft. this is such a comfort fic and also im just genuinely cold rn and would like this. sappy as fuck, yo. not sure if it's good but it exists.

Citrus Scale: 🧡 ORANGE 🧡

Breathe deep. The snow outside has settled, is light and fluffy and untrampled beyond your windows, glittering beneath the morning sunlight. A gentle breeze stirs the leaves of the trees in the light. You hear the faint shuffling of Edward downstairs, or perhaps some of the hounds scampering around their space next door, but the day outside your window is calm. They're closed, the windows that is, the glass easily staving off the chilly air outside, the fire that's now embers having kept you warm through the night. Well, that and the humanoid furnace at your side.

He's still asleep. Like this, he looks gentle, face soft while the world only knew it to be focused and determined; he looks content like this. The sunlight paints him in pastels, a good look, not that he'd ever agree, while the light catches on some of the hair that's fallen from the lose braid it had been in during the night, creating shadows across his cheeks.

Perhaps you could add another log to the fire, or make some food, or check on your various creature companions, but this room, this moment, is a warm haze that you feel to safe in to leave. You settle back against your pillows, smiling to yourself as you reach out with a careful hand, brushing the hair from his cheek. He's so warm, and you pause, holding his cheek gently; he makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and he reaches out for you, hand on your hip, pulling you closer. His eyes aren't even open, but his brow has furrowed somewhat, like he's concentrating. Letting yourself be pulled closer, you hum in quiet greeting, knees knocking his, on your side; you're close enough that you're practically on his pillow too, forehead against his.

No words; the affectionate rumble you can feel in his chest warms your soul. He presses a kiss to your nose, and you, with your hand still gentle on his cheek, tilt his face for your lips to meet his.

And he's smiling, eyes still closed; his hand on your hip has moved to ghost up your back, to pull you closer, fingertips trailing warmth up your spine. Legs entangled beneath the blankets, you murmur good morning against his lips. His smile gets wider, face scrunching up as he groans, tries to deny it.

"Not a good morning?" You ask, tone teasing as you move your hand from his cheek to card your fingers through his hair. In response, he huffs a laugh, curling up against you, face pressed against your collar, pulling you as close as he can.

"Not morning," he clarifies, "not yet." Stay here, you hear what he doesn't say, don't move, don't leave. So you don't; you fit against him like it's where you were made to be, you press a kiss to the top of his head, and gives an content sigh.

"Okay," you breathe, before succumbing to a large yawn. The movement jostles him somewhat, but his only response is to press a kiss to your chest. So you close your eyes, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment, in the warmth of him, and let yourself drift back off.

When you awaken once more, the sun is far higher in the sky. Small animals have left evidence of their adventures through the snow outside, and you find yourself at a strange, almost right angle. Twisting, the first thing you become aware of is how the comforting feeling of having your hair playing with suddenly ceases with your movement.

"No, wait, I didn't say stop," are the first words out of your mouth before you're even fully aware of your surroundings, and you pause in your wriggling, waiting. When you hear Techno laugh, soft and endeared, only to resume the absentminded way he's been carding his fingers through your hair, you give a pleased little hum, now only moving to tuck yourself closer to him.

You're head's in his lap, his thighs as your pillow, and you wrap an arm securely around his hips. Across the room, you can hear the fire crackling away - you feel like you would have woken up if he'd gotten out of bed to add a log, but evidently not. After a few moments of silence, you hear the turning of a book's page.

The sun is warm on your back. You could probably fall back asleep like this, let this day be a write-off, no plans, no goals, only to bask in the comforting reality you'd found yourself in.

Time stretches out in the silence, the world like warm honey, you don't want to move.

When Techno moves, you can feel it, and you angle your head up enough to watch him carefully place his book down and pick up a cup.

"When did you make coffee?" You asked, befuddled; had you really been sleeping that deeply not to notice him leave for long enough to make himself a whole drink? So you wriggle a bit more, enough to look up at him, the angle unflattering, not that you cared, simply delighted to see the way he smiled down at you. There's something amused at the corner of his lips, something more than just the fondness in his eyes.

"Would you like some?" He asks instead, and your lips press into a thin line as you contemplate whether or not you want to get up. Nowhere would feel as warm as right here, right now.

"I should get up, make myself some," though it's clear your heart's not in it. Yawning again, you squeeze him tightly, before you start to right yourself. For a moment, you catch disappointment as it flashes across his face, right as his hand moves from your hair. He needn't be so worried, however, as you sit yourself beside him, fitting yourself into the space by his side, manoeuvring his arm around you so you could rest your head against his.

Leaning into him, you take the mug from his hands, coffee inside still warm, and you turn, pressing your nose against his cheek in an affectionate gesture as he picks his book back up. He's wearing a pleased smile, the arm around your shoulders holding you secure as he opens back up to the page he'd been at.

"What 're you reading?" You ask, cradling his cup to your chest. He knows you well enough to know what you're really asking, however, as with your free hand you pull the duvet further up you both to get more comfortable, and he begins to read out loud.

[tailoredshirt]

Tarlos + stuck-in-an-airport-meetcute AU??

Thank you, anon!!! I hope you like it. 700 words.

***

"Move to Texas, they said," TK muttered. "It'll be great, they said."

"Sorry?"

TK glanced up to see the guy next to him looking at him with a quizzical expression on his face.

"Uh, sorry," TK said, shifting in the uncomfortable plastic airport chair. He couldn't find a comfortable way to sit. "I didn't even realize I was talking out loud."

The guy nodded, and TK expected him to go back to his book, but they sat there for a moment in silence, clearly aware of one another.

"So you're new to Texas?" the guy said finally.

TK sighed. "Yeah, we moved down here a few months ago. Me and my dad," he clarified.

"And you're not a fan?"

TK laughed softly. "I mean…it's fine. I just thought that if I was going to get stuck in an airport during a snowstorm, it would be in New York, not Dallas."

"Ah."

They chatted for a bit about living in Texas. They both lived in Austin but in different areas. He gave TK a few recommendations for places to eat before they lapsed into silence again.

"Uh, I think I'm going to grab a beer," the guy said, motioning at the cheesy looking Mexican restaurant next to their gate. "You want to join me?"

If he'd offered anything else, TK might have been tempted. The guy was undeniably hot, with dark skin and gorgeous eyes. Hell, if he'd offered a blowjob in the men's restroom, TK would have accepted in a heartbeat. But with the mood he was in, and the exhaustion of travel, the offer of a beer hit him funny and he didn't want to be around alcohol right now.

"I think I'll stay here for now," TK told him. "But thanks."

The guy looked a little disappointed but smiled cheerfully. God, he had a nice smile. Why couldn't he have offered a bathroom hookup? TK was tempted to counter-offer, but wasn't quick enough.

"See you," the guy told him, heading off to the restaurant before TK could say anything else.

TK didn't even know his name.

***

Three hours later, the storm was showing no signs of abating. It was dark outside, temperatures dropping even further, and TK knew it would be too dangerous to rent a car. He could try to sleep on a row of chairs in one of the waiting areas, but his back was already killing him from sitting for so long and he thought he might as well shell out for a room in the hotel next door to the airport.

There was only one person ahead of him in line, and TK was surprised to see that it was the hot guy he'd been talking to earlier.

"Uh, hey," the guy said, smiling awkwardly. "Fancy meeting you here."

TK noticed the guy's eyes dip down to TK's mouth before he looked away quickly. Oh. Interesting.

"The machine is ready for you, sir," said the receptionist.

"Oh, sorry." The guy looked flustered. He scanned his card and accepted the receipt and room key from her, then gave TK an awkward smile. "Well. Nice seeing you again."

"Yeah, you too."

"Do you have a reservation, sir?" the receptionist asked TK.

"No, but I was hoping you had a room available."

"Unfortunately, we're fully booked," she told him apologetically. "Because of the storm. I'm sorry."

"Oh." Damn. Airport chairs it was, then. "Okay, no problem. Thanks."

"Hey, um…" TK looked up to see the hot guy – wow, he really needed to learn his name at this point – approach him. "No more rooms left?"

"Apparently not."

"Oh. Well, you can share mine if you want." His face looked a bit pink as he said this, but TK couldn't tell.

"Wow, that's really nice," TK said. The offer seemed genuine, with no ulterior motive, but TK thought back to the guy's eyes flickering down to his mouth. Well, a bed was more comfortable than a cramped bathroom stall, if the guy was up for it.

"Yeah, the room has two beds, so…" The guy trailed off awkwardly.

"Oh, the room you just paid for, sir?" the receptionist said.

"Uh, yes?"

She smiled at both of them. "Sorry, sir, but…there's only one bed."

[reidyoulikeabook]

hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive

anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point

excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list

Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.

PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.

--

Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.

23 hours awake.

Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.

Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.

“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.

It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”

“He could drive around.”

You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.

Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”

Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.

You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.

“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.

He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”

“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”

Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?

That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.

You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.

Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.

He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.

He gave you his slippers

So?

Is that something friends do?

Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.

Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.

It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.

It matters to every other person you date

He sets an impossibly high bar

Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.

Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.

Did he just blush?

You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.

It is.

“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.

“You look-” He starts.

“Thank you so-” You start.

You both tinge with warmth.

“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.

You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?

No. Wishful thinking

It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”

A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.

“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.

“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.

He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”

It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”

He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”

“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”

He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.

Please let it be the latter.

You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”

He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”

“I have my moments.”

He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.

Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”

From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.

***

It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.

You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.

Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”

You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”

“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”

“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.

You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”

You put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”

He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”

Spencer outwardly sighs.

“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”

The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.

“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”

He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.

“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.

“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”

He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.

“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”

You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.

“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”

That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”

“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”

***

The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.

He doesn’t mind if it’s you.

Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.

When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.

He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”

“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.

There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.

“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.

He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.

“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.

It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.

“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He flicks it off, settling back down.

His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”

It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.

His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.

And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.

When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.

---

Permanent tagslist: @reidingmelodies @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187  @seasonfivereid @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reidsnose

(message/reply to this to be added or removed!!)

[gleamglowsgraveyard]

How about Sirius finding out the reader has a crush on him...and gives her her first kiss? 😘

cigarettes and firewhisky

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: amortentia is no fun to make when you’re partnered up with the person you know it’s going to end up smelling like.

content: fluff, me being bad at writing slughorn, very brief mention of sirius’s family issues, confessions in an empty classroom, kissing but nothing spicy (edit: rereading this i realized i made the reader pretty gender neutral! no pronouns or anything like that :)

you know i had to pull the amortentia trope. this was a cute request, thank you so much! also thank you to my anons who sent in what they thought sirius smelled like, you guys were a lot of help! (except the person who suggested that sirius smells like wet dog. you know who you are.)

This was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Surely some higher power was laughing at you from above, taunting you and your dreadful luck.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. How on earth did you end up being paired up with Sirius Black of all people?! And - even worse - making the worst potion ever concocted?!

If you weren’t in public you’re sure you’d be letting out a crazed laugh out of pure mania.

So far you’ve been able to dodge all of his attempts at conversation, quickly sending him off to find another ingredient as soon as he got too chatty. You’d hardly made any eye contact at all, and any time he handed you something you were careful not to have his fingertips even slightly graze your own.

In truth, you’ve had an enormous crush on Sirius Black since third year, and it had only gotten worse as the years went by. This meant that by now, you had become a bit of an expert at avoiding him at all costs.

But now it was all ruined. Years of hard work spiraling down the drain all because of fucking Amortentia.

Why couldn’t it have been a simple calming draught? Or a shrinking solution? Hell, you would’ve even preferred to make Slughorn his lunch!

And it’s not as if you can sabotage the potion, either! That would mean Sirius’s grade suffering too. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

There was no way out but to lie about what the potion smells of if he asks. Simple! That way no one finds out - more importantly, that way Sirius doesn’t find out - about your silly little crush. Foolproof. Genius. Inspired-!

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You jolt as panic overtakes you, snapping your head up to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“Do you like me?” he repeats, smiling slightly. “I can’t help but feel like you hate me, seeing as you haven’t looked at me or talked to me at all.”

Internally, you breathe out a sigh of relief, glad you had misinterpreted the question.

“No! I-” Your voice is much too high, you stop to clear your throat. “I do! I do like you, I um... Sorry! I promise I don’t hate you, I guess I’m just... shy.” You finish your blabbering by looking away, pretending to inspect the fire below your cauldron.

When you raise your gaze again Sirius is still looking at you - observing you as if you’re an interesting puzzle that he can’t quite figure out.

“Um!” you quickly turn your attention to the potion, hoping he does the same. “Nearly done, right? Here.” You hold out the wooden spoon for him to take. “Five more clockwise stirs.”

He looks at the spoon but then folds his hands behind his back. “You do it,” he offers instead.

You purse your lips but nod anyway, bringing the wood up to the cauldron’s opening. The pearlescent liquid shifts under the spoon as it touches the surface, and once it’s fully submerged you take a deep breath and start stirring.

One... Two... Three... Four...

As soon as you finish the fifth stir your nose is assaulted by a suffocating aroma of cigarettes and firewhisky. You quickly step back, coughing and tossing the spoon on the table, but the scent follows you.

That doesn’t smell very appealing! Had you done something wrong? You could have sworn you’d followed the recipe exactly!

But then suddenly the scent changes, rapidly becoming much more welcoming. Cigarettes and firewhisky quickly turns into the undertone to something different... Cinnamon shampoo? But also... cologne, and... You could also catch the faint whiff of a brand new leather jacket.

“I think...” you start, eyes trained on the potion that now has delicate tendrils of steam coming off its surface. “I think we did it.” You laugh a bit in astonishment, proud of the fact that you’d managed to make such an advanced potion.

When you turn your head Sirius is looking at you again, in that infuriating way with his gorgeous eyes and stupid grin. You desperately want to look away but just can’t bring yourself to do so.

“How can you tell?” he asks quietly, and you suddenly feel everything else in the room slip away until it’s just him in front of you.

“I... It-”

“What’s it smell like?”

His low voice puts you in such a trance that for a moment you think you’re about to tell him the truth, but you quickly remember what you’d decided on earlier. Lie.

“Ban-” Bananas? No! “Bal-” Balloons? What would that even mean?! “Bu... bblegum. Bubblegum.” You finally land on, and then give a minuscule wince.

Bubblegum?! Although, you suppose it’s better than balloons...

“Bubblegum?” Sirius repeats, brows furrowed.

“Yep! And is that...? Oh! Firewood!” you continue, pulling lies out of thin air. Sirius’s furrowed brows fade away, and an amused smile starts to form on his features instead.

“And, um... And sun cream! Huh, weird.”

“Bubblegum, firewood, and sun cream?” Sirius lists, as if needing clarification from you.

“Well, I-”

“And look what we have here!” Professor Slughorn’s booming voice is suddenly feet away from the two of you, standing right beside your cauldron. “I do believe we have our first finished brew of Amortentia! Although I can’t say I’m surprised, Mr. Black,” Slughorn beams, giving Sirius a knowing look.

Sirius just shuffles awkwardly.

If Slughorn notices Sirius’s discomfort, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he continues, “You know, your father was an exceptional potion maker. Very talented indeed, and you and your brother seem to be following in his footsteps! Although I must say, young Regulus has been a bit unfocused lately, he-”

“Uh, professor?” you speak up when Sirius flinches at his brother’s name.

Slughorn blinks and then looks at you as if he’s just noticed you were there. “Oh- Yes?”

“So... The potion? Did we do it right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course! Full marks!” He waves you off, as if you were being silly for even asking. “And ten points for each of you!” he adds for good measure before strolling off, most likely to go torment some other student with a famous surname.

After that, Sirius doesn’t much seem to be up for talking anymore. He focuses all his attention on cleaning up your station, closing up jars of rose petals and pearl dust. You follow his lead, albeit a bit sluggishly.

A few minutes ago you would’ve been okay with Sirius’s silence - happy, even, if it meant you didn’t have to deal with your little crush. But now you would give anything to have him cheerful and smiling again - even if he looked at you with those annoyingly pretty eyes.

Once class is over you’re quick to duck out of the room, desperately wanting to leave Slughorn and Amortentia and the smell of cigarettes and firewhisky behind you.

It’s all over now, everything went according to plan and you can finally go back to doing what you do best. Secretly pining after Sirius Black from a distance.

It’s safe. It’s what you’re good at.

You’re just about ready to forget about this day entirely when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

...Maybe you were hearing things.

You speed up your steps but then he calls your name again and you’re forced to slow down, waiting for him to catch up. When he does he gives you another winning smile and your heart does a flip.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, and you listen intently. “Sorry about uh... Just... Thanks.”

You’re a bit taken aback. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a ‘thank you’.

“I... For what?” you ask, genuinely perplexed, but trying not to sound rude.

“Getting Slughorn to leave,” he clarifies with a grin. “He’s always been the same... I’ve been dealing with that for seven years now.”

There’s laughter in his voice but you can tell it’s a bit frayed at the edges. He’s clearly trying - and failing - to play it off as no big deal.

“Sorry,” you offer lamely. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

It really doesn’t.

You don’t know much about Sirius’s family, but you know enough to understand that he probably doesn’t like to be constantly reminded of them. Sharing their last name and seeing his brother in the halls was probably more than enough.

“It’s fine. And, I didn’t just want to thank you,” he says quickly, realizing that the conversation had gotten gloomy.

“Oh?” you voice with a bit of a nervous smile.

“I wanted to ask what it smelled like. The Amortentia.”

There goes your heart again. A million miles a minute.

“What do you mean?” you ask, laughing a bit. “I told you. Bubblegum and um...”

Shoot! What were the other two?!

“Firewood and sun cream?” Sirius prompts, and you nod frantically.

“Yep! That was it!” you’re quick to blurt out. Unconsciously, you pick up your pace, now traveling at a slight speed walk.

Sirius keeps up easily. “But you’re lying,” he accuses, pointing a finger at you, and you swear you start to sweat. “You started coughing when you finished stirring. What did you smell then?”

“I-! Well-! The bubblegum was very pungent, and I-”

“And it looked to me like you were just naming anything that came to your head. Were you about to say balloons at one point?”

“You know, I don’t appreciate being interrogated like this, and quite frankly I- woah!”

You suddenly find that you’re being pulled somewhere by the elbow, and only when you hear a door close behind you do you realize that Sirius has dragged you into an empty classroom. You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings, because Sirius is asking you again:

“So what did you smell?”

You consider lying again, but he’s staring at you with his big, pretty eyes, just waiting for you to tell the truth and all of a sudden you really, really want to.

You thought - you really thought - that you would be content to just go back to crushing on him from a safe distance, but then the Amortentia had happened and he had looked at you different. He was looking at you differently even now - eyes glittering, listening attentively for your answer. And suddenly pining from a distance doesn’t seem so appealing.

You groan in frustration, bringing both of your hands up to cover your face. You just can’t believe what this boy is doing to you.

“It’s so stupid,” you admit, feeling your cheeks head up beneath your palms.

“It’s not,” he assures you, gently wrapping both his hands around each of your wrists, silently asking you to stop covering your face.

You shake you head. “It is, and if you’re asking then you already know.”

“So humor me.”

You abruptly drop your hands to look up at him and, woah - had he always been that close? He’d definitely gotten a bit closer since you’d closed your eyes.

You let out a shaky breath. “Cigarette smoke... Firewhisky...” you trail off. You mean to keep going, but decide to wait for Sirius’s initial reaction first.

Sirius blinks. “Gross,” he says after a beat, and it startles a laugh out of you.

“Yeah, a bit. I thought we messed it up, but then... Um, it changed.”

You search his features for any signs of discomfort, but find none. In fact, Sirius seems to be basking in every word you tell him.

So you keep going, very quietly, “Cologne and...” Without thinking you bring a hand up to rest delicately on his shoulder. “Leather and... Cinnamon...”

You hand moves of it’s own volition, resting on the junction of Sirius’s shoulder and neck and you stare dazedly at it for a moment. You blink and then realize what you’re doing.

You pull your hand away as if you’ve been burned. “Sorry, I-”

But then Sirius is leaning forward fast and - Merlin, was he about to kiss you?!

You panic for a moment, knowing you have to think quick. Your hand darts up again, this time landing on his collarbone, putting your palm flat up against him and pressing firmly, willing him to stop.

He gets the message and quickly pulls back. “I’m sorry-”

“No!” you blurt out so fast that it sounds more like a squeak. “No, no, it’s not that I don’t... I mean I want to, I do I just...” You screw your eyes shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Fuck,” Sirius lets out a laugh.

Your heart sinks as you open your eyes. Was he laughing at you?

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he clarifies quick, as if reading your mind. “For a second I thought the Amortentia was a big coincidence and you didn’t like me at all.” he smiles, and you realize his laugh was a laugh of relief.

“No! I-!” You groan again and lean against the closed door. Was it confession day or something?! “No, I’ve... I’ve liked you since third year.”

“What about first and second?” he fires back quick, grinning stupidly.

You don’t miss a beat. “I was scared of you, then. You were too loud.”

He barks out a laugh and you suddenly feel the urge to look away, feeling as if you’re intruding. And then you remember you’re not. It’s just you and Sirius here. So many times you’d seen that laugh from a distance, across a crowded Great Hall but now it was just for you.

Sirius speaks up once his laughter dies down. “Look, you don’t have to-”

“No, I want to-”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-”

“You haven’t! I just-”

“We can just go to class-”

“Sirius!” you say sharply, and he looks at you with wide eyes. “Kiss me. Please,” you say with a laugh, wanting him to shut up already.

He grins and then wastes no time in leaning forward, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. You smell it again - cinnamon shampoo, cologne, new leather, and - very faintly - cigarettes and firewhisky.

You melt into the kiss, bringing you hands up to rest at the nape of his neck, idly playing with the strands of hair you find. It’s awkward at first, but you try your best to relax into it, following Sirius’s lead and just doing whatever comes naturally.

He pulls away and you slowly blink your eyes back open, willing yourself out of the trance Sirius’s lips had just put you in.

“Fast learner,” he whispers, smiling, and you laugh.

“We should get to class...” you suggest halfheartedly, not stepping away or making any move to leave.

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Probably...”

You both look at each other for a few beats, but then you each break into a smile.

And he kisses you again.

.

.

.

taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost in Japan

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post. Thanks for sending it in! 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

Premise: Taehyung gets lost while shooting Bon Voyage in Japan with the members. Thankfully, he runs into you.

You were fairly certain that your eyes were deceiving you. Standing awkwardly outside of a convenient store, staring down at a map that one of the employees was holding up, stood Kim Taehyung. 

His Japanese was only getting him so far. From what you could hear, it sounded like the real problem was the fact that he wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to be in the first place. 

You weren’t the only one that was starting to notice who was loitering about downtown Aomori. 

Taehyung kept glancing up, assessing the growing crowds that were beginning to form, all of them waiting anxiously for the light to change to cross the street. The employee seemed to notice his worry, beginning to lose his patience. 

“Take the map,” the employee sputters out. “Just buy it really quickly. It looks like you need to get going soon.”

Taehyung blanches. “Er...I don’t have my wallet on me...” he pats his jeans as though his wallet might magically appear. “Could I come back later...?”

The employee looks a bit uncomfortable, mirroring Taehyung’s expression. “I don’t know...if you’re lost already, who’s to say you’d be able to find your way back?”

You hardly realize how close you’ve gotten, but as you watch Taehyung’s eyes drop to his shoes and red color his cheeks, you take the last few strides up to him. Both men look up at you, apprehension in their eyes.

“How much is the map?” You ask without thinking, already fishing your wallet out of your bag. 

Taehyung stares at you with unabashed embarrassment. “Oh, really don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

You shrug, already handing over some cash to the shocked employee. “It’s fine. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Blinking at you like you might have suddenly grown another head, Taehyung slowly shakes his head. “...no. I’m not. Do you know...who I am?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you barely manage to contain your grin. “Do you mean have we met?” You shake your head, taking the map the employee extends out to you and folding it meticulously. “No, I don’t think we have. Are you lost?”

Again, Taehyung looks a bit dazed but nods his head nonetheless. “I am, actually.”

Now you allow yourself to smile at him fully, fidgeting a little at how intensely he’s looking at you. “Well, I can call you a cab if you want. Just explain to me where you’re trying to get to.”

“Can I trust you?”

You blink, heart aching a little at the question. “I would say yes, but I’m a little biased. But either way, it looks like you’ve got about...ten seconds to make a decision.”

The traffic lights change, and suddenly a horde of people are making their way across the street and heading straight toward the convenience store. The employee has already retreated indoors, appearing to be boarding up for a storm. Taehyung looks back and forth between you and the other group almost comically before stepping toward you.

“Alright, let’s go.”

~~~~

After some careful maneuvering through the convenience store and out into the back alley, Taehyung chuckles. You give him a quizzical look, marveling as he runs a hand through his curly hair. 

“What’s so funny?”

Taehyung shrugs, giving you a genuine smile. “I feel like James Bond or something!”

“I’m pretty sure James Bond doesn’t get lost so easily,” you tease, heading down the alleyway with the idol in tow. “So where exactly are you trying to get to? Describe it to me.”

Taehyung does just that, and you recognize the location almost immediately. “Really? I know exactly where that is.” Heading toward the street, you wave down a cab. “I’ll just give them the address and they’ll take you straight there-”

“Um, about that...” Taehyung watches with a wary eye as the cab pulls over. “I don’t have any money, remember?”

“Ah...I’ll just pay him right now. Don’t worry about it.”

You lean down to speak to the cab driver but stop as Taehyung’s hand lands on your elbow. Ignoring the blush undoubtedly creeping up your neck, you look back at him.

“I’ll Venmo you,” he says.

“...ok.”

“But...”

“But?” You straighten, frowning. “What?”

Taehyung looks at the cab, chewing on his bottom lip. “Well, don’t you want to get your money’s worth?”

~~~~

And that’s how you ended up here, sitting in the backseat of a cab giving Kim Taehyung a tour of Aomori. 

You whiz past several monuments, wracking your brain for some sort of historical fact you can give the idol. Whatever you do say isn’t all that impressive, but Taehyung goes along with it. 

“You’re an amazing tour guide,” he croons, a teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, pointing out the window to the setting sun.

“And here we have the sunset. This phenomenon happens every evening, and is often subject to many poor-quality photos.”

Taehyung laughs, going along with your joke. “So why do people take pictures if they don’t turn out right?”

You shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe because they want to remember it? But it never turns out as good as the real thing.” This time you laugh along with Taehyung before something catches your eye.

“Oh!” You all but shout, pointing frantically at an upcoming building. “This is the hidden gem of Aomori. Best restaurant ever.”

Taehyung follows your line of sight, eyes landing on a dingy restaurant. it’s small, one of those that you’ll miss if you blink. He smiles softly, glancing back over at you with a curious expression. Leaning forward in his seat, he taps the cabbie on the shoulder. 

“Pull over please. We’ll be stopping here.”

You try to protest, frowning at him. “But we’re not there yet, and it’s too far to walk-”

“We’ll take another cab,” Taehyung reassures you. “C’mon. Dinner’s waiting.”

~~~~

And that’s how you ended up here, seated across from Kim Taehyung in a restaurant that you’d never realized was so run-down until you were bringing a global star through its doors. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. No, Taehyung is grinning as he orders his food, looking over at you every so often. You do your best to not notice, with no success. 

“I’ll have the yakitori as well, please,” you manage to choke out. Hopefully the warmth inside the restaurant is a good enough excuse to cover up the redness in your cheeks. 

Taehyung sips on his drink, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Here, let me Venmo you.”

“Oh,” you start, shrinking back in your seat. “It’s fine, really. This was kind of my idea-”

“No, it wasn’t,” Taehyung clarifies. “And now I’m treating you to dinner. So, Venmo. Now, please.”

Looking at the way his hair falls into his eyes and those eyes appear so solemn yet boyish at the same time, you wonder if anyone has ever been able to say no to him. 

You certainly can’t.

Taehyung begins asking you simple questions, and you fire them right back at him while you wait for your food. 

“Why are you in Japan?” You ask, taking a long sip of your drink. Taehyung sits back in his seat, looking around the restaurant. 

“I’m visiting with friends. On a vacation of sorts.”

“Of sorts?” You arch an eyebrow. Taehyung smiles softly, eyes alight with some sort of inner glow. 

“How do you know your way around so well?” He asks, completely ignoring your latest question. You decide not to push it. 

“I’ve lived here for a while,” you shrug, watching as a waiter appears with your chicken skewers. Your mouth waters at the mere sight of them, and Taehyung chuckles while watching how your expression changes. “Cheers,” you croon, immediately diving in. 

Taehyung follows suit, groaning as the chicken makes his tastebuds dance. “This is amazing.”

You grin, waving the skewer in the air before chomping down. “Told you so.”

You’ve made it through nearly two skewers before you realize that the two of you have been eating in complete silence. Glancing up, you see that Taehyung must be thinking the same thing as he looks over at you with a sheepish smile. 

Covering your mouth, you cackle and relish in the way Taehyung laughs right along with you. He’s read your mind, setting down his skewer and quickly answering a text before returning his attention to you. 

“Are those your friends wondering where you are?” You ask, heart dropping a bit. Taehyung nods. 

“Yeah. I told them that I’ll be back a little later.” He grabs another skewer. “Should we head out?”

You finish off your chicken, trying your best not to look a little crestfallen as you agree. Taehyung smiles warmly, thanking the waiter profusely as the two of you head out. 

This time Taehyung waves down the taxi, repeating the address you told him earlier. “That’s the right place, right?” 

“Yeah, you’ve got it.” You take a step back. “Thanks for the food.”

He looks back at you, the cab drawing nearer. “Thanks...for everything today.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I actually had a lot of fun.”

You grin. “Me too.”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before extending it out to you. “Could I maybe have your number?”

Now you’re unable to stop grinning, and you quickly type your number in, triple checking that it’s correct before handing his phone back to him. “There you go. Now, you should probably get going. Cab’s waiting.” You begin to walk away, not wanting to look like some lost puppy as he leaves. 

Taehyung nods, that dazed look back in his eyes as he hesitates. “Actually...” You whirl around a bit too quickly to be casual, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Could we maybe take a photo together?”

You smile, recalling a bit of your conversation from earlier. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people that takes low-quality photos of the sunset.”

Taehyung’s face lights up, a laugh rumbling through his chest. He meanders over to you, smiling down at you. “What? I want to remember this.” His eyes convey the message that his lips fail to speak. I want to remember you.

So you smile for the picture, and ask him to send it to you. As you wave goodbye as the car takes off down the street, you jump a little when your phone pings twice in a row. 

The first is a message, the photo Taehyung just took. 

The second is a Venmo notification sporting a ridiculous amount of money with the caption, Cab $ - let me know when you make it home.

~~~~

It’s only three days later that you find yourself sitting near the back of a large room, fans everywhere chatting or singing along to whatever song is currently playing. You smile down at your phone, Taehyung’s contact coming up as he sends off a text. 

Tae: I’ll call you in a couple of hours, heading into a meeting. 😊

You snort. He has no idea that you’re here, does he?

The past few days have been a dream, living in nearly constant contact with Taehyung while he enjoys his time here in Japan. However, you never quite found the right time to tell him that you actually know who he is. Let alone the fact that you were going to be in attendance at the fan meeting today.

A couple of moments later the boys appear at the front of the room, and the event begins. 

Your heart pounds as you line up to meet the boys, clutching the item in your hands that you brought for Tae. Most of the boys don’t recognize you, which you expected. Only Jimin gives you a double take, but he shrugs it off a moment later. 

He must have seen the photo Taehyung took with you.

Tae hardly looks up from where he’s focused on each fan, making you smile. The sound of your heart pounding fills your ears as you step forward until you’re in front of him. He’s looking at the fan that just left, who’s still speaking to him. 

You slide your photobook across the table to him, and he immediately begins to sign it. 

“Have you been having fun so far?” He asks, still not quite looking up at you. You grin.

“I have,” you say. Then, sliding the same map you bought from the convenience store toward him, you say, “I got you this. You know, just in case you decide to get lost again.”

Taehyung frowns but looks at the map. His mouth falls open before looking up at you, that beautiful smile taking over his features. He has to physically restrain himself from leaping up, but settles for grabbing your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he breathes out.

You smile, and wonder for a moment if you’ve stopped smiling in the past three days since you met Taehyung. “Hey. So, do you like your gift?”

His eyes never leave your face as he grips your hand a bit tighter. “It’s great, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Oh?”

“Not when I have you as my personal guide.”

masterlist

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse​ @overheardatthecontinental​ @meshlababy​ @ataraxydreams​ @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread​​ @savsselfinserts​ @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ @donakamark

*If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to send me an ask or DM!

[ussgallifrey]

Jealous

✦ Summary: The little green monster has a way of ruining a perfectly good night, and he is not talking about the Hulk. ✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader ✦ Warnings: Little bit of angst, jealousy ✦ Word Count: 2.4k ✦ Author's Note: This was written ages ago for a request that's now vanished from my ask box from an anon asking for a jealous Bucky.

It's there in the curl of your lashes and the hand that you bat against the Asgardian's arm - that's when the clenching sensation presses down on his throat. When he feels his fingers wrap a little tighter around the shot glass on the bar. The night long since gave way to the pleasant thrum of inebriation, but all Bucky can sense is the bitter taste in his mouth when he watches you laugh so freely across the room.

Another gloating tale of ancient glories, a genuine laugh, a flirtatious quip - Bucky's painfully present for it all.

He had been cowardly perched on this one bar stool for almost the entire evening, trying to find some liquid courage - though he couldn't get drunk, not even close, it was just a bit of a placebo to get the gears going. Meanwhile, you flitted between the others with a carefree ease and an intoxicating smile. Wrapped up in soft pinks and a striking flower in your hair.

Bucky glowers at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

He had watched the way you seemed to flow through the crowd, taking the time to join each circle of people. Laughing unabashedly with Clint and Tony, resting your head on Natalia's shoulder, letting Sam throw a too familiar arm over your shoulders and tug you closer. That one probably stung most of all.

Your laugh seems to rise above the music and the crowd - an arrow sent right towards him, alluringly sweet in its intensity. But it's not for his ears, not happening because of something he said. No, you're wrapped up in the blonde demigod's looming stature and chiseled everything.

Maybe he lingers too long on the shape of your body leaning against the other man's. The styling of your hair, the way your eyes never leave Thor's. And the way the Asgardian's eyes seem to dip below your eye level to wander freely along the lines of your body.

He struggles to swallow the darkness that threatens to rise - the itch in his throat that ices over his heart and makes his blood run cold. It's metallic and chilled and difficult to ignore and he hates himself all the more for letting it take over.

Thor's returning laugh is deep and rich, coated with the finer golds and riches of a royal lineage. Bucky has to steady himself with a hand on the bartop when the blonde ducks down to place a kiss to your cheek, a fitting smile on his face as he excuses himself from your presence.

It's hard to ignore the giddy rush of nerves that seems to creep up as your smile turns bashful, averting your gaze as you press a trepid finger against your cheek. And then you're turning and he's looking down at his drink - trying to ignore the sting and pangs of the little green monster.

"Mr. Barnes," you cheerily greet as you plop down on the neighboring barstool, a manicured hand placed just a breath away from his own much larger hand. 

Pulling his gaze from the gemstones on the end of your nails, Bucky nods in acknowledgment. Not trusting his mouth for anything as his stomach still sloshes and slurs with the sourness of unwarranted jealousy.

That sweet perfume seems to mingle in the air between you, something floral and soft - warm and pink to match your dress and nails. Princess-like, something entirely untouchable and angelic.

"You've been… notably absent tonight," you pester, sipping from your nearly emptied neon-blue cocktail.

"Have I?" he lets his finger drag along the rim of the glass, catching a drop of condensation. 

You hum with a nod, "Been missing you something fierce."

That gains his attention as he finally lifts his head up, trying to read your doe-eyed expression. 

He turns a little more towards you, a knee daring to touch your own but not quite able to close the gap. 

"That so?"

Another hum, followed by another sip. Gaze drawn low to watch the way your fingers wrap around the black straw, lazily gliding up and down as you give a coy smile his way.

There's a distant part of himself - the shadow of a man who used to look like him, but a little more clean-cut - that would know the right things to say. The sweet prose and flirt to get you turning his way, wrapping you around his finger, and never letting go. He'd sure like to get in contact with that version of Bucky Barnes right about now because he's feeling next to hopeless in your presence.

"This isn't really your vibe, is it?"

Vibe? Right, more slang and lingo that sometimes has him stumbling over his own feet and looking like a right fool in front of everyone else.

You seem to catch on to his internal dilemma because you're quick to clarify, "You're not big on parties."

No argument there. He rubs the back of his neck as he fails to avoid your gaze, "Yeah, uh, no. Definitely no."

There's a little cooing sound in return, a batting of long eyelashes as you swirl your tongue around the straw, taking a long final sip of your drink. He could get lost in the action alone, watching your lips pursed together to suck on the straw, cheeks hollowing out - it's hypnotizing and entirely dirty, but he just can't look away.

But then Thor's bellowing laugh carries far across the party to lodge itself directly into Bucky's ears. He can't help but grimace, staring down at the bar in favor of actually groaning his disdain.

But you catch on - of course you do. You follow the pitiful trail of jealousy right up to his seething face like a bloodhound. He must reek of it too because your sweet expression seems to fall in an instant.

"Do you," your fingers stroke along the tip of the straw. "Do you not like Thor?"

He balks at how easily you hit the nail on his head. "Wha - no. I - he's, I mean, I don't really even know the guy, you know?"

There's this look that settles on your face that says you're not buying a line of his bullshit.

"He's sweet."

Bucky taps his glass with an impatient finger. If he has to sit here and listen to you compliment Thor, he might just vomit. Oh, he'll sit and listen alright, but it doesn't mean he has to like it.

"I'm happy for him and Jane," you continue. "Says he plans to stay on Earth for a while, think he couldn't stay away from her any longer."

You're talking, but the words aren't registering the way they should be. It's just an infinite loop of you laughing and Thor kissing your cheek.

"They're a good fit for each other."

Of false images of Thor wrapping his arm around you, dipping you backwards, and kissing you senseless.

"You'd never think they would make a good couple, right? But they totally work in their own way."

How easily you'd be swept off your feet, probably picked up and made to wrap your legs around him. He was probably shirtless at this point because why wouldn't he be? 

"Hey, are you - are you okay? Bucky? Did I say something or...?"

God, why was he so hung up on this? Why couldn't he just work out the nerve to just go up to you and ask you out? It wasn't that hard, right? Just a few words, his heart waiting on the side to be broken, his returning ego to be bruised. 

It's not like he could compete with someone like Thor. The man was literally a God; a legendary being of Norse mythology and epics. Compared to… him. Him with the flashing neon sign above his head that read Fucked.

"Bucky?"

It was probably a fool's hope that you would've been interested in him. He was so many things this side of wrong. Not golden and wonderful like the man you had been laughing with for the past thirty minutes.

There's a hand on his.

Oh.

Slowly, he looks over at you. 

You smile gently. Thumb carefully rubbing over his knuckle in a soothing motion, "You drifted away on me. I - I wasn't sure if…"

The words fade away with a cautious touch. He wants to turn his hand, lace his fingers with yours. It feels right in his mind, he wants it to be right.

A soft silence drapes itself over you both. Your hand remaining on his, fingers lazily rubbing circles over the top of his tense knuckles.

"You know," you say after a moment. "I think I'm ready to get out of here."

You watch his expression with a curious gaze before continuing, "Even I can get partied out, Barnes."

He doesn't want you to leave, enjoying this haven you've created in the corner of the bar with him. It's the lingering hope that burns in his chest that maybe he stands a chance with you. Maybe he can win you over if he ever gets the nerve.

But you don't move to leave, fingers coming to a sudden rest - a breath away from his skin.

"Are you out of here too?"

Is that a twinge of hopefulness in your voice? It's nearly hard to believe, but he latches on to it like a lifeline. Finding himself nodding fast and dumb as he says, "Yeah, yeah. I'm good here."

Your hand runs its way up and over his arm and shoulder, lingering above the collar of his leather jacket. Waiting, he realizes. Waiting for him to join you.

There's a surprising amount of nerves going haywire in his body because his legs seem unusually shaky as he stands from the bar. But you're there, batting those glittery eyes as you wait. Your body manages to press up against his side as you wade through the remaining partiers. Floral perfume wafts up from your exposed neck and he nearly buckles over.

"My lady!" Thor bellows in shock, a stupid grin upon his stupid face as he manages to untangle himself from the group.

He pauses in front of you both, baring Bucky not even the slightest glance.

"Surely you're not leaving so soon."

When did he grab your hands in his large godly ones? Why does Bucky's stomach feel like it's going to make him spew all over the floor now?

Your laugh is easy as you gently pull your hands back, "Even mere mortals like me know when to call it quits, Thor."

And it's only then that the god seems to take in the dark figure you're leaning on, mismatched eyes looking Bucky over with a sudden glint of realization. He backs away almost immediately, "Oh, of course! Another time, then."

It's only when you're walking again that the blonde throws him a playful wink, which makes Bucky feel all sorts of confused.

And the thing is, he's not even entirely sure where you're going and if you expect him to follow you there. He'd like to think that, but he can't be sure. 

The warmth of the party gives way to the misting rain of the darkened city streets. Illuminated only by the neon signs and streetlights. Seeing the contrast to you, wrapped in soft pinks and gentle flowers, only makes Bucky feel all the more aware of his surroundings. But you seem to pay no mind to it whatsoever as you make your way down the sidewalk.

You're tucked against his right side, arm rubbing against the leather of his sleeve, your pink dress fluttering in the gentle breeze of the night. And when a car rushes by on the slick road, it'd be impossible to not notice the way you shiver. When you stop at the crosswalk, Bucky doesn't even think - pulling his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders.

There's a little gasping sound as you pull it tight around you and your eyes are absolutely shimmering in the street light when you look up at him. Bucky can actually feel the moment his heart swells.

"Thank you," it's said so softly, so sweetly. And you finish it by gently squeezing his hand.

He takes a chance, throwing his arm over your shoulder and tugging you close. The contented sigh that falls from your lips makes him know he made the right move.

You pass the walk in pleasant silence, occasionally bumping his hip with your own, a soft laugh when he looks down at you curiously. It doesn't take a genius to figure out where you're headed as the glowing tower comes into view.

You pause at the front entrance - the harsh lights from the lobby illuminate the space behind you, making you glow in the rainy night air. Bucky reluctantly pulls his hand away. Feeling lucky enough to have gotten to walk you home, but not enough to expect anything beyond this point.

But your drawn brows pull his attention as you grab his hand back, "And where do you think you're going?"

He huffs a laugh. Steeling his nerves as he sheepishly looks up at you, "Guess that depends."

You give a thoughtful nod before tugging him flush against you. He gasps, despite his best intentions.

Brushing his hand against your cheek, you give a pleasant little mewl. His heart thumps harshly in his chest as his eyes darken. 

"You know," you murmur against his hand - your hands now resting on his hips - as you pause, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Jealousy isn't a good look on you."

Bucky groans softly, feeling the weight of the evening sinking lower in his chest.

"Especially," you continue. "When you could just have what you want."

Your mouth finds the underside of his chin, kissing lightly on his Adam's apple. Manicured nails find their way into his hair, scratching carefully against his scalp and neck. And then you pull back, dark eyes staring up at him with a smirk.

"That is, if you want it, Sergeant."

Soft hands smooth over his arms, down his sides, to his hips once more.

"Do you want it, Bucky?"

His mouth feels dry as he takes in your beautiful features. The way your dress curves your figure, the way his jacket seems to be perfectly made to fit your shoulders. The obvious thrum of passion coursing through him. And just one look into your eyes gives him all the reassurance he needs - there's no competition here, you only have eyes for him.

So, he settles his hands on your hips, fingers splayed out along your lower back.

"Yes," he says hoarsely. "I definitely want."

And then you're angling your head up to meet his lips as you walk the two of you backwards into the tower and out of the misting rain, into something decidedly warmer and better.

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[free-pancakes]

Are you gonna write another dance au I LOVED THE ONE YOU POSTED. ITS SO GOOD. I need more 🥺

Oh anon... you have enabled me.

Okay so you HAVE to watch this choreo real quick to understand the context! That’s what i based this drabble off of.

so this turned into kind of a part 2 of the dance au you referenced :)

eeeeeeee i hope u like it bc i really liked writing it ahhhhh 💕

---------

“Oh I like that idea!”

They each held their phones in their hands as they laid their arms over each other’s shoulders.

“That fits the lyrics well, because they let each other keep their secrets to themselves right? Referring to the ‘I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask you, neither should you’ part?”

“Yeah four-eyes that’s what I said!”

“oKAY shorty I’m just clarifying!” Hange exclaimed as they smoothly untangled their arms, spinning out separately from each other.

“Oh, how about you carry me on your shoulders somehow?”

Levi crouched down. “I can spin down like this, and you just throw your legs over me? I can stand and you’ll sit on my shoulders?” They did exactly that, and Hange thought of an idea.

“Ok let’s just, just follow my lead?” She dug her heels around his shoulders.

“Trust fall!” Hange yelled as she fell back, planted her hands on the floor, and gracefully leaned into a handstand, finding her self back on her feet.

“Goddamnit Hange, youre lucky I didn’t just drop you on your face just now!”

She laughed, “That’s no problem for us! And yeah, that was probably lucky, I just took a chance,” she said as she winked at him, a gesture he could only roll his eyes at.

“So the next line...” Levi hesitated, a slight blush filling his cheeks.

“Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, We should just kiss like real people do!” Hange said, matter-of-factly. Levi looked away, hiding his face, but Hange didn’t notice, engrossed in thought of the next part of their choreo. They only had a week to finish this up for their competition coming up—their first on the Scouts dance team. Of course, they had been paired up—the senior members teased the hell out of the two. Hange didn’t mind, because they were just friends, right?

Silence ensued as Hange thought “OH! How bout we push each other’s phones down and reach for each other’s cheek with our freed hand.”

They pulled each other close and placed each other’s palms on the other’s cheek. Levi rubbed his thumb against her skin, and tried his best not feel so nervous about it. But despite his efforts, he felt a bead of sweat form on his brow as he looked into her eyes, lost in her gaze. Levi almost panicked—were they? Would they follow the lyrics and...

He felt Hange’s hand slip towards the back of his neck, her fingers laced in his hair, and she pushed him towards her, their foreheads touching. He felt the gentle heat of her skin against his, and he closed his eyes for a second, soaking in the moment. It was... nice. Really really nice.

Suddenly, the slam of a door and sound of voices woke him from his trance. Levi fell back in panic, sliding himself across the floor, putting as much distance between him and Hange as he could.

Erwin and Mike smirked at Levi, who could only scowl and give them both a stare that threatened them not to say a damn word.

“Well well, what’s going on here?” Mike said teasingly.

“Oh we just finished half of our choreo for next weekend, wanna see??” Hange said excitedly.

“Hah, of course, Hange,” Erwin said to her with a genuine smile, though he eyed Levi and raised his eyebrows at him as soon as she turned around. Levi was ready to punch the daylights out of them, and the only reason he didn’t was because the song started playing through the speakers. Hange beckoned him over and he followed.

Once the lyrics started, they started. Moves were already in perfect sync, the squeaks of their shoes on the wooden floor lining up perfectly with each other, steps light along with the song. But with their little audience of 2, Levi quickly became nervous. As he carried Hange up on his shoulders, she fell backwards as they practiced but Levi lost his grip, and they fell to the floor.

“Hange, are you okay??” Erwin and Mike rushed over, and when Levi pushed himself up and turned around, he saw red, all over her shirt, and a little bit on the floor.

“Oh my God, Hange, I’m so sorry—“ Levi said, his voice trembling in worry.

“Oh Levi, don’t worry about it!” she said as Mike pushed some paper towels towards her face. “I don’t think it’s broken, just a nose bleed from the fall. Though I’m guessing my glasses are done for,” she said with a small laugh.

Levi looked at the crushed glasses laying lopsided on the floor. Oh God how could he have messed this up so badly? He wanted to pull his hair out—he wouldn’t even be mad if she never talked to him again. He just dropped the person he had the most major crush on... straight on her face. After they helped her clean up a bit, Erwin and Mike left for home , while Levi led her back to his car.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.” He stared at her pair of broken glasses in her hand. “And I’ll get those replaced, don’t worry.”

Hange smiled back at him as she hopped into the car. When they arrived at her apartment complex, Levi parked and got out to open the car door for her, taking her hand and helping her up. “Are you sure you’re okay? Again I’m so —“

“Levi, don’t even worry about it. There’s no way we would have nailed that two times in a row on the fly! Honestly, I expected a worse injury,” She said with a nervous laugh. “If you drive me tomorrow morning to get a new pair of glasses and maybe treat me out to lunch, call it even?”

Levi gave her a shy smile in response, “Sure thing.” She began to walk towards her building, the light of the stars shining around her frame, and Levi stood frozen where he stood as he stared at how beautiful she was as she walked away. But before she could step through the door, she quickly turned back.

“Oh almost forgot!” She stepped up towards Levi, gently interlacing her fingers through the hair over the back of his head. She pulled him close til their foreheads touched—right where they left off in their choreo before Erwin and Mike had showed up. Levi’s breath hitched—he was so nervous he felt like he couldn’t breathe. She then softly pushed his shoulder, spinning him away from her, and caught his other hand as they stood back to back. Levi relaxed as he leaned on her, feeling the slow rise and fall of her breathing against him.

“Oh God, what a tease” he thought. He really thought she’d kiss him just like the lyrics said. He felt her move, breaking contact, but then felt her turn and hug him from behind, her arms sneaking up his sides and around him.

“Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, We should just kiss like real people do,” she sang into his ear, as she reached her head over his shoulder, and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“And that’s the end of the choreo for our dance, agreed?” Levi was silent, in shock as his hand unconsciously reached up to his cheek, touching over where her kiss lingered.

Hange smiled to herself, and held back a laugh at how shocked he was. “See you tomorrow, Levi!” she yelled back as she ran inside.

[brasskier]

Inspired by @valdomarx, @therogueheart, and that one anon, here’s a post-mountain Deaf!Jaskier story. Read it under the cut below or find it on my ao3 here.

Geralt stumbled upon Jaskier for the first time since the dragon hunt early the next spring, at a crowded market a week or two northeast of Oxenfurt. He'd stopped into town to stock up on supplies and maybe pick up a contract or two before moving along. If asked, he'd insist it was a series of hunts that brought him so close to the Academy, that he might as well follow the coin. And if he happened to run into his bard (ex-bard?), and happened to have the opportunity to apologize, and the bard happened to choose to follow him again? Well, so be it. 

He smelled Jaskier before he could see him, head perking up and eyes searching the crowd for the flash of a colorful doublet and that soft brown hair. The market was teeming, thrumming with chatter, and just as vivacious as Jaskier himself. 

"You goin' ta buy that or not?" The stall keeper asked, jarring him back to his abandoned transaction. He dropped a few coins on the stall, pocketed the herb, and disappeared without so much as a grunt. Weaving through the throngs of people, he relied on smell - on that familiar chamomile and saffron - until he finally spotted a glint of emerald green, and the strap of a lute. He watched from a distance.

Jaskier's hands were flashing about as dramatic as ever, glancing back and forth between the balding man tending the stall and another man standing beside him. His companion was as flamboyant as he was, dressed in a regal blue and arms waving about just as exaggeratedly. But then Geralt realized he couldn't hear Jaskier, which was unusual, because the bard had never in the two decades he'd known him been able to keep his voice down. The crowd was certainly cacophonous, but not that loud.

"Jaskier?" He drew a little closer and called his name tentatively. The bard didn't seem to react, carrying on with whatever he was doing. He tried again, a little louder, and then a third time, increasingly forcefully. He was getting irritated now - how dare he pretend to not hear me - and was tempted to simply move on. With a heavy sigh, he approached even further, lingering just a few paces behind him. "Jaskier?" 

"Think someone's calling you," the stall keeper announced, jerking his head in Geralt's direction, and Jaskier waved his hands again before turning to follow the man's gaze. He blanched when his eyes finally met Geralt's, mouth hung open and hands dropping to his side.

"Geralt?" He squeaked out finally, dragging a hand up to his heart. There was an unusual quality to his voice, Geralt was quick to note. Not hoarse, like he'd heard him after many a late-night performance. Just different. 

"Jaskier," he repeated, casting his gaze down to the russet dirt at his feet. 

"Gods," Jaskier breathed. "Just - melitele's tits - I just…" He trailed off, wringing his hands together. Geralt couldn’t help but think he looked like one of the stray fawns that would occasionally stumble upon his campsite and linger frozen for a few moments, cast in the firelight and trembling with fear.

"It's okay, I know." He kept his eyes trained at his feet, trying to pin down the bard’s tone. The way Jaskier produced certain sounds, dragged over his vowels, a little bit of its usual edge missing. He must be overwhelmed, Geralt concluded, but he wasn't particularly convinced. "I'm sorry." He waited patiently, uncertainly, for either his acceptance or rejection. 

"I need you to look at me," he said instead, surprising Geralt. He did as he was told, lifting his chin to face him. "Can you repeat that?" 

"I'm sorry," he reiterated. He felt frustration welling again - he got his apology, does he really need me to repeat it? - but he quickly quashed it. 

"Thank you, Geralt." He could see the emotion brimming in Jaskier's eyes. "We have a lot of catching up to do." Jaskier glanced sideways for a moment, fidgeting with one of his rings. "Perhaps we could share a drink? There's a tavern not far from here." He jerked his head to the right. Geralt grunted, and Jaskier raised an expectant eyebrow.

"Sounds good," he clarified. He was becoming increasingly convinced that Jaskier was toying with him for pleasure's sake. He knew full well how to interpret the Witcher's grunts, after all. And yet the expression drawn across his face looked impressively genuine. Humans are weird.

Jaskier uttered his thanks to the stall keeper and turned to face his companion - who'd been waiting patiently behind him - again. He wagged his hands about wordlessly, and it finally dawned on Geralt that this was not his usual theatricality - this was common sign language, and he wondered when exactly Jaskier had picked it up.

Jaskier was quiet most of the way to the tavern but seemed to perk up once they were seated - in the far back corner, Jaskier's choice. Geralt spoke first, determined to get this apology over with and behind him.

"I'm sorry about what happened." Jaskier tilted his head as he listened, chin resting on folded hands. "What I said was wrong. I shouldn't have blamed you, and…" he exhaled sharply, as if apologizing - or, more specifically, being honest and vulnerable - caused him actual pain. "The best blessing life has given me is finding you again." Jaskier's head tilted impossibly further, and then came the tears, and - fuck - did Geralt say the wrong thing?

"That's awfully sweet, Geralt," Jaskier eventually choked out, and he relaxed a little. "I'm sorry, I just--" He dragged a hand across his face. "That was so kind." He sniffled into his sleeve before finally re-righting himself. "I guess I'm just a tad sentimental." Geralt forced the best smile he could manage across his lips. "Gods, it's been so long. Go on, tell me everything you've been up to." 

"Not much," he replied between sips of ale. "I'll tell you everything later." He chided himself as soon as the words left his mouth for just assuming there might be a later. "How have you been?" 

"Hmm?" He sighed, fighting hard to keep from rolling his eyes.

"How have you been?" Jaskier seemed to spark to life again at this. 

"Oh," he said simply, pushing his hair behind his ear and chewing on his lip. "Well, I returned to Oxenfurt, taught for the winter. I just headed out, actually. I've been a bit preoccupied." He leaned in closer, stared past Geralt at the wall behind him. "I, uhh, I got sick, coming down from the mountain." Geralt hummed, drawing a slow sip of his ale. "I mean, I kinda woke up sick, but then there was the dragon and…" He rubbed his thumb against the rough wood of the table. "Well, I was a little distracted. I don't even really remember making it off the mountain, to be honest."

"I'm sorry I didn't notice." Geralt might as well get all his apologies over with at this point, he thought. Jaskier waved a hand to hush him.

"I woke up at a healer's. Apparently someone had found me not far out of town and dragged me in." He let out a shaky exhale. "He said I'd had an infection in… In my brain." Geralt watched him with a sour mix of pity and regret, unable to shake the feeling that he should've been there. The image of Jaskier, waxy pale and slumped unconscious, trembling in a stranger’s arms, burned into his mind.  "Anyway, I'm lucky I survived. But my hearing did not." Oh. Fuck. Suddenly the pieces slid into place - the sign language, the strange quality to his voice, the incessant requests for Geralt to repeat himself. 

"Fuck, Jask, I'm sorry." He rarely shortened Jaskier's name, but he knew the bard liked the nickname, and it was the least he could do for him. His mind reeled with regret. He should've been there. A random stranger shouldn't have been the one to find him and rescue him. If he'd known, he'd have never - no. No, what he did was wrong outside of the context of what'd happened next, and he was not about to qualify it. Jaskier, for his part, seemed relatively unfazed.

"Nothing you could've done about it, really," he insisted, running his finger along the rim of his glass. "The healer said I just needed to fight it off on my own." This did absolutely fuck all to ease the guilt gnawing in Geralt's gut. Questions swirled in his head - how was Jaskier going to sing or play anymore? Could he still compose even? How was he going to survive; that was how he procured coin, after all? Was he… was he happy? Did he blame Geralt?

"I know, I just… can you still sing?" This question seemed to amuse Jaskier, who laughed heartily. 

"Yes, Geralt, I can still deliver my fillingless pie." Geralt couldn't tell if he was serious or not, and while he used to be able to read his voice a little more consistently, he was unsure now and kicking himself for not making a better study of the bard's facial expressions and body language when they'd been together. 

"You know I didn't…" 

"I know. I know you didn't mean that." They sat in silence for a beat while Geralt wracked his brain for his next question.

"How? Do you sing, I mean, if you can't hear. How are you even talking to me?" He shrunk behind his tankard, suddenly embarrassed by the utter lack of tact that'd never bothered him before. 

"Well, one of the perks of teaching at a premier Academy is access to some of the finest physicians this side of Nilfgaard. I'll be honest, it took a lot of work to relearn how to sing and speak; I was mute for most of my travels back to Oxenfurt, mostly out of shame." Geralt's stomach churned, imagining Jaskier entirely and utterly silent. That wasn't the bard he knew. His Jaskier never shut up, mouth constantly running faster than a horse, always a story to tell or a song to share or a joke to crack. And certainly never worried about whether anyone else wanted or needed to hear him. Jaskier was not quiet. "But fortunately I still have a tiny bit of my hearing - on the lower end, mostly, which is good for you. Plus I have decades of muscle memory, so it wasn't so bad. And as for right now? I'm mostly lipreading, though the pitch of your voice is helpful." Geralt couldn't tell whether he was being genuine or just trying to placate him. "It's just different. Have to feel it more than hear it, which if you ask me more musicians should try."

"I'm glad," Geralt gritted out, nodding at the bartender to bring another round of ale. "That you can still sing." Jaskier beamed.

"I knew you always liked my singing," he declared triumphantly, arms folded across his chest.

"Did you already know common sign?" Geralt asked instead of retorting with something snarky; let the bard have his victory.

"A tiny bit, but the language professor at the Academy was fantastic at teaching me." Geralt closed his eyes and tried to envision the odds and ends of common sign he'd picked up over his years of travel. "I made a lot of Deaf friends; they've been so supportive of me." With a sigh, Geralt decided to give it a try.

"I know a little," he signed, tentative and deliberate. Jaskier's eyes lit up.

"You do?" He signed back, eyebrows raised and grin spread across his face. 

"Not much. I can…" His hands slowed, wracking his brain for the sign for learn. He sighed again and said it aloud instead. There he goes again, assuming Jaskier will stick around long enough to warrant learning more. Jaskier teared up again, and he cursed inwardly, wondering for what must've been the trillionth time that afternoon if he'd messed up. 

"You'd do that? For me?" Jaskier squeaked, pawing at his eyes with a hand tucked in his sleeve. 

"Of course." For a moment Jaskier looked like he might fling himself across the table and into his arms, but instead he fidgeted in his seat. 

"That's enough about me now, isn't it?" Jaskier asked, always a master at changing the topic when he grew bored with it. "Tell me about your hunts." He leaned over, fished around in his pack, and plucked out his notebook and pen. 

"First was an infestation of drowners," Geralt began, taking extra care to face Jaskier as he spoke, and pausing when he went to scribble something in his notes. They spent the next hour like this until, just as Geralt was beginning to wonder if the bard was going to force him to talk all night, Jaskier was tugged to the front of the tavern while excited patrons clamored for a performance. Jaskier obliged, as always, and Geralt watched, as always.  

When Jaskier dropped back into his seat, shuffling his lute unceremoniously to the floor beside him, Geralt expected him to bid him a hurried goodnight, get on his way, and leave. Just a nice day catching up shared between two friends (?), and decidedly not the start of their next joint adventure. But instead of any of that, Jaskier called to the bartender for another mug, busied himself fixing his hair and his doublet.

"Told you I could still sing," he said with a wink as the bartender deposited his ale on the table in front of him. "And something to eat, please," he added before returning his attention to Geralt. 

"I never doubted you," Geralt's reply came easily. It was, perhaps, the truth.

"Now then, would you say it has more or less filling now?" He leaned forward on his elbows, cheeky grin and narrowed eyes, and even Geralt could recognize the facetiousness of his words. Before Geralt could answer, he waved a hand, as if dismissing himself. "So, where were you? Something about a missing cow?" Geralt nodded, leaning back in his seat.

"So the boy told me his father would pay me, if I could find the cow. So I said, 'how much?'" He continued on with his tales, no matter how excruciatingly mundane they felt to him, until Jaskier's head dips forward and then picks back up for a third time. "Think it might be time for you to get some sleep?" He asked, and Jaskier blinked away the sleep in his eyes.

"Yeah, probably," he muttered, scrubbing at his face with one hand, the other dipping down to reach his lute. "Are you staying overnight?" He asked, and immediately flushed at the confused look he received from Geralt. "I just mean… I don't… you can't leave before I get to say hi to Roach." 

"It's too dark now. I'll get a room at the inn." Jaskier’s face lit up, and he followed him in rising to his feet. "Just have to grab Roach first," he said when they finally made it out the door and into the cool early-spring night. 

"M'kay," Jaskier hummed with a fond smile. He rested a hand on Geralt's shoulder. "I'll see you in the morning." It was a firm statement, certain and unquestioning. 

"See you then," Geralt replied, heading back to the stable where he'd docked Roach so he could bring her closer to the inn. And he, too, was certain. 

[marjansmarwani]

Oooh could you do #48 for Tarlos? I can definitely see that happening in the show.

You’re absolutely right Anon, I can too! I don’t think it’ll happen quite like I wrote it, but I hope you enjoy anyways! 

It takes two (to make a house a home)

[read on ao3]

Characters: TK Strand, Carlos Reyes

Relationship: TK Strand/Carlos Reyes 

Word Count: 1990

48. “I took your hoodie, and you’re not getting it back.” -- TK's hoodie is missing, and Carlos has a question to ask.

-----

It takes two (to make a house a home) 

TK swears under his breath as he searches his locker yet again and still can’t find what he is looking for. He could have sworn that it was in here. It definitely hadn’t been in his closet this morning. He picks up his phone and dials without looking - it’s always the same number at the top of his recent calls list. He tucks the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he rifles through the locker one more time - just in case. 

When the person on the other end picks up, TK asks his question without introduction: ”Have you seen my yellow hoodie?”

“I took your hoodie, and you’re not getting it back.”

TK pauses in his searching, “Wait, are you for real?”  

“Mhm,” Carlos confirms, “I am holding it for ransom.” 

TK sits back on the bench in the middle of the rows of lockers and chuckles, “I’m surprised at you Officer, turning to a life of crime?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Carlos agreed gravely, “I’ve hardly seen you at all this week; I am willing to go to extremes. If the hoodie doesn’t work, I am dognapping Buttercup next.” 

“There’s no need to get the dog involved. What are your demands?” 

“You, here tonight for dinner.” 

“I can make that work, I suppose.”  To tell the truth, it had been a long shift and he had been planning on getting some takeout before going to bed early, but dinner with Carlos sounded far more appealing, “See you in 20 minutes?” 

“Come alone, or the hoodie gets it.” 

“Understood. I love you.” 

“Love you too. But you’d better hurry - the clock is ticking.” 

With that final warning, the line went dead and TK laughed to himself again. He still didn’t know what he had ever done to deserve someone like Carlos, but he would forever be grateful that they had found each other. He’s still shaking his head as he shuts his locker (now thoroughly destroyed from his harried but unnecessary searches) and bids goodbye to the rest of his team. After a quick stop in his dad’s office to let him know not to expect him tonight, he is on his way to Carlos’s. 

When he arrives he lets himself in and is about to call out for Carlos when he looks up to find the man in question leaning against the kitchen counter with a sly grin. 

“I’m going to need proof of life before this goes any further,” TK declares as he drops his bag next to his shoes and crosses to the kitchen to greet Carlos with a kiss. 

When they pull apart, Carlos steps aside to reveal TK’s yellow hoodie folded neatly on the counter. TK raised an eyebrow, “did you really steal it? How did you even manage that without me noticing?”

“I didn’t have to steal it; you left it here.”

“Now that makes more sense.” 

“What,” Carlos said, face morphing into an expression of mock offense, “you don’t think I could steal something?” 

“Of course you could babe,” TK said smoothly, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek, “I believe in you and support you. Forgetting something here does seem pretty normal for me though. I think more of my clothes are here than my actual home these days.” 

Carlos pulls away, expression suddenly shifting, “That’s actually kind of what I wanted to talk to you about tonight, actually.” 

TK freezes in the process of picking up his hoodie, “What? Is my stuff here a problem? I’m sorry, I don’t want to be in your way; I’ll get rid of some of it.” 

“No TK, that’s not it.” 

TK continued speaking, oblivious to Carlos’s objections. “You’re right, it was presumptuous of me to leave so much stuff here. This is your house, I shouldn’t have done that without asking you.” 

“TK,” Carlos said more forcefully, finally drawing TK’s attention to him, “that’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Then what are you saying, Carlos?” he asked hesitantly. 

Carlos sighed, “Can this conversation wait until dinner?” he pleaded. 

TK stood up straighter, “If you have something you need to say to my Carlos just say it - I can take it.” 

Carlos looked over at the counter, “This isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he said mournfully, “I made lasagna.” 

“Whatever you need to say, just say it and I’ll get out of your hair.” 

Carlos turned back to face TK sharply, “Wh-what do you mean get out of my hair? I thought we were having dinner?” he said with uncertainty, a frown spreading across his face. 

“There’s no need to let me down easy Carlos, I don’t need dinner to soften the blow.”

Carlos was beginning to look genuinely perplexed, “soften what blow?”

“If you’re breaking up with me just say it.” 

Carlos stares at him for several long, heart-stopping moments. The quiet stretches through the room and is enough to twist TK’s heart in his chest. He had always known this was all too good to be true, that it was only a matter of time. 

“Break up with you?” Carlos eventually splutters, “Why would I break up with you? You are quite literally the best thing that has ever happened to me TK. I would be the worst kind of fool to break up with you. Where is this even coming from? Wait,” he said, his face paling, “do you want to break up?” 

“What? No!” TK exclaims, “You just happen to be the best thing that has happened to me, Carlos Reyes. I still have a hard time believing I could ever get this lucky. Why on earth would I break up with you?!” 

They stare at each other for a few more seconds before Carlos speaks again.

“So,” he began, “just to clarify, neither one of us wants to break up?” 

“Definitely not,” TK responded decisively. 

“Okay,” Carlos replies with visible relief, sinking back onto the counter, “that’s good because I really didn’t want to do that.” 

TK mirrored him, his body sagging in relief as he leaned against the counter. “That past 30 or so seconds easily ranks in the top 10 worst moments of my life,” he agreed. 

Carlos shook his head, “I can’t believe that you thought I wanted to break up with you. Who makes lasagna to dump somebody?” 

“I don’t know!” TK exclaimed indignantly, “but you were acting weird, and I panicked! Besides, how am I supposed to know what you consider a good break up food?”

“For the record, lasagna is not a good break up food.” 

“Is there a good break up food?” 

“Yes,” Carlos said with such certainty that TK cocked an eyebrow. He considered asking, but thought better of it. 

“What is all this anyway? Why the scheme?” he asked instead, glancing around at the elegantly set table and incongruous yellow hoodie still resting on the counter. 

“I just wanted to ask you to move in,” Carlos said with a shrug. “I had this whole plan - the meal, a speech, it was a whole thing.”

A sharp intake of breath causes Carlos to turn to look at TK. His boyfriend is staring back at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “What did you just say?” he asks in a faint voice. 

Carlos frowned at him, “I had a plan?”

“No,” TK shakes his head, “before that. What did you want to ask?”

Carlos stared at him for a fraction of a second before the realization dawns on him. “I am a dumbass,” he declares mournfully. 

“No,” TK disagrees, doing his best to suppress a laugh, “You are not. You are a very intelligent and thoughtful person...who got a little flustered.” 

“That’s your fault you know. You always have the power to make me flustered, Ty.” 

“Don’t change the subject,” TK demanded, but the severity of his tone was lessened by the blush that was beginning to creep across his cheeks, “I believe you still have something to ask me.” 

“Did I? I don’t recall that.” 

Carlos laughed as TK swatted at him and grinned before turning to face him. TK followed suit, turning his body so he was facing Carlos. He locked eyes with him and resisted the urge to get lost in the depth and warmth of those eyes. He had a question he needed to hear first. “Ask me,” he repeated. 

“Tyler Kennedy Strand - would you stop leaving some of your stuff here and just move it all here? I have ample closet space to offer and all I ask in return is that you spend every night with me, and wake up beside me every day.” 

TK pretended to consider, “can you clarify ‘ample’?” 

Carlos narrowed his eyes at him and TK laughed, before reaching out to pull him in for a kiss. It was deep and lingering, hungry, and familiar. It was like home. 

When they pulled apart and TK found his breath, he gave his answer: “I find your terms acceptable, Carlos Reyes. I would very much like to move in with you and wake up beside you every day for as long as we have.” 

They shared a smile and Carlos leaned forward to give TK another kiss. This one is shorter, less heated than the first but what it lacks in passion it makes up for in warmth. 

This is the kiss he could get used to giving every day, he thinks. 

TK tries to deepen the kiss and as much as Carlos wants to give in (his entire body is practically screaming for it), he pulls away. 

TK makes a distressed noise and pouts at him. Carlos rolls his eyes fondly, “as much as I love kissing you,” he explained, “I have a feeling that another kiss might lead to rather more and as much as I also love that, I made dinner and it’s getting cold.” 

“Fine,” TK huffed, “but only because I love your lasagna.”

They set about preparing for dinner before eventually settling at the table. TK raises an eyebrow at the candle sticks prominently placed in the center of the table, “You really went all out for this, didn’t you?”

Carlos shrugged sheepishly, “There is a possibility I was nervous and overcompensating by overplanning so I didn’t have time to dwell on it.” 

“Why were you so nervous?” TK asked with a frown, “Did you really think I was going to say no?” 

“No, not exactly. But all the same, we don’t have the best track record with elaborate dinner plans, you may recall.” TK winced, but nodded. Carlos considered for a moment before speaking again, “Why do big plans never work for us?”

TK looked up from his plate in surprise, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, every time I try to make a fancy dinner to make a statement, it doesn’t work out. When you tried to surprise me with a fancy dinner out for our anniversary we both got called back into work because of that accident. We keep trying to do these special things, and they never work. Why?”

The silence stretched again as TK considered. It didn't feel harsh or uncomfortable though - nothing at Carlos’s house ever had. No, not Carlos’s house - his house. Their house. This was his home now and TK was pretty sure he would never get sick of thinking that. 

“My dad has always talked about grand gestures,” TK finally said when he managed to pull his thoughts back to the question at hand, “but I don’t think they ever worked much for him. I know they historically haven’t worked well for me, so maybe they’re just not all they’re cracked up to be. Maybe it’s the little moments that matter for us.”

Carlos smiled at him, and reached across the table to grab his hand. “That’s good, because I think we’re on the road to a lot more of those.” 

[read on ao3]

[harrypotterthehufflepuff]

Confusion

This was requested by: Anon !

Request:  Hi Can you please made something with Cedric where the reader is from Ravenclaw and he’s in love with her but they don’t really talk and she’s best friend with the Weasley’s twins and Fred had a crush on her and is the Triwizard Tournament and the reader supporting and get worried to Cedric

*

Hello! Thank you for requesting !! This was very fun to write. I tried to make it visible that Fred likes the reader and the same goes with Cedric. I hope it’s evident enough to please you!

Note: I’m going away to Norway in two days, so I might be a bit slower at answering everyone’s requests ! I’ve got quite a few (eee) and I’m going to try and write them on my way there as it’s at least 6 hours away from where I live. But you’ll still be able to request, and I will of course answer them when I can and when I get home. So, to wrap it all up: I’ll try my best and write when I’m in Norway, but I’ll not be able to write as much as I usually am. And when I get home I’ll start like normal again !

*

Warnings : A bit of swearing.

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x reader x Fred Weasley.

Words: 1.9 (A longer one today ;)”

If you’d like to request something please head over to my other blog, https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ronaldandremuslover and I’ll try and fix it for you !

~ ~ ~ ~

When his name had come out of the golden goblet you had immediately stood up and clapped your hands. Hufflepuff didn't get much recognition, so when Cedric had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament all of the Hufflepuffs had gotten excited. And of course, he was immensely handsome.

But after Harry's name had appeared on the burnt piece of paper, everyone had gone silent again. It was like nobody dared to speak. And you could sense it now, as you walked down the corridor that the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were not on the best of terms.

"It's not Harry's fault he got chosen. He didn't put his name in the bloody goblet, did he now?" George said, impolitely.

"You why they're bitter. For once Hufflepuff gets noticed and it's suddenly whisked away." You replied, ignoring his glare he shot your way.

It's true, it's not Harry's fault for what happened. But you could understand why they were sour. But even with Harry in the game, you still rooted for Cedric. You had only spoken with him a couple of times, but he was very polite. Being in different houses made it more difficult to get a chance to speak with each other. But getting grouped together for different assignments was always nice.

Everyone in Ravenclaw was passive around Harry, not knowing what to believe. It was a big scandal, basically.

"This is me, see ya." George said suddenly, turning to walk down the stairs leading down into the dark dungeons.

Since you had charms, you continued down the corridor. Students were passing you in a rush, heading towards their next class. It was when you reached the charm's classroom that you finally relaxed and enjoyed the comfortable silence. You took your usual seat next to your friend, Wilma.

After a couple of minutes, Professor Flitwick had entered and gotten the lesson rolling.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Right, everyone, the class is over." Squeaked Professor Flitwick. "For this next assignment, I want you to team up with a fellow classmate from the other house. You are to try and levitate an object of your choice made out of glass and put it in a box located thirty-five feet away from your position. Your goal is to not break the tender object, and if you are to succeed, you will be greatly rewarded."

He didn't say what the reward would be, but judging by his smile, it was probably something good. Although, Wilma looked unhappy.

"Something wrong?" You asked, picking up your backpack and flinging it over your shoulder.

She looked up at you, frowning. "I don't like working with people I don't know. It feels wrong."

Giving her a consoling smile, you headed for the door. It wasn't until next hour your next class would start, so you and Wilma decided to go to your common room. But you had only made it halfway before somebody called your name.

"Y/N! Wait, please."

Turning around, you saw Cedric Diggory. It seemed as if he had run to chase you down.

"Can I help you?"

He smiled awkwardly, "For the next charms assignment, I thought you and I could team up, perhaps? We've already worked before and that has always turned out rather okay."

You looked at Wilma, who was smiling broadly. She gestured with her hand for you to answer him. Although it was clear to you from the very beginning of what your answer would be.

"Yes, of course. That would be lovely." You expressed, returning a smile of your own.

He gave you a thumbs up and walked away, saying over his shoulder, "At 7 tonight, courtyard."

"Great!" You shouted to his retreating back.

"You're always so lucky." Wilma breathed, almost drooling.

You shook your head and grabbed her arm, pulling her with you. "Get a grip on yourself."

~ ~ ~ ~

After a class of Transfiguration and Divination, you had a long break. You sat under a tree that provided a great shadow. Fred and George sat on a blanket and played a strange board game they had made up themselves. You had your nose in your book and devoured every word.

"Shit! I always lose."

Looking over at the twins, Fred looked grouchy. His brother, on the other hand, looked thrilled.

"It's about momentum. And of course, cleverness, which you don't have an ounce of." George replied, arranging to set up the board game for another match.

Fred, however, scooted away to sit closer to you. "I'm taking a break. I don't really like it anyway."

You couldn't help but snort at his dry statement. His attention was suddenly all on you.

"Think it's funny to watch your poor friend lose?" Fred said, sarcastically.

"I think it's entertaining to watch you come up with flimsy justifications to not play a game which you're bad at." You replied, not looking up from your book.

George laughed. "See, Fred, even a chick can see through your lousy excuses."

"Even a chick?" You looked up from your book.

"Anyway," said Fred. "The Gryffindors are going to celebrate Harry tonight in our common room. If you want you can come up. Your friend, Loony Lovegood is going to be there too."

You ignored his remark on Luna, deciding you didn't want to start a brawl. "Sorry, I'm meeting up with Cedric later."

George raised his eyebrows but turned away from you and Fred, suddenly getting very interested in a yellow ladybug.

Fred frowned, twisting himself uncomfortably. "You what?"

"I'm meeting Cedric here after dinner."

Although he would never admit it, he looked genuinely hurt. So you clarified that it was not a date, that it was only necessary for an assignment Professor Flitwick had assigned you to do. But you couldn't help yourself to get a little annoyed with Fred. You were allowed to go on a date if you wanted to, he had no right to be upset with it. You weren't dating after all...

After you explained your reasoning to see Cedric, he seemed cool with it. But still, he looked slightly offended but tried hard not to show it. You shook your head at his antics; boys were very confusing.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Hey!"

Cedric was there before you, standing under the tree you had been sitting at with the twins. He had already put the box thirty-five feet away.

"Nice! already set it all up, I see. What did you bring as an object?"

He showed you a narrow vase with a golden string attached to its middle. It looked very elegant.

"Found this in the common room. Hope nobody's going to miss it." He said, shrugging but smiling.

"What, think you're going to break it?" You mused.

He grinned at you, taking his wand out of his pocket. "I was thinking of you actually.

"Oh, really! I'll show you..."

After a couple of attempts, either missing the box or by losing control over the glass vase, you finally put the vase in the box. You made a victory jiggy. You were the first one to make it.

He sighed in defeat and slid down the tree, taking a seat on the grass. "Well, you win."

Sitting down beside him, you said, "Do I get a prize?"

Cedric looked over the lake, thinking, hard. "Mmm, I'll buy you lunch this weekend. Is that good enough a prize for you, madame?"

You blushed, looking down at your hands in your lap. "That would be nice, but don't you have to get prepared for the first task? The first task of the tournament?"

"I'll take you out on Saturday and prepare on Sunday. I actually... sort of know what the first task is."

Shocked, you asked, "How?"

"How? How do I know? If you'll go to Hogsmeade with me I'll tell you."

He looked smug, smug in an adorable way. Was this meant as a date? Or was it just a friendly lunch? It's so confusing with boys! But after thinking, and seeing how he got more and more nervous, you agreed to go out with him on Saturday.

"Lovely." He said.

~ ~ ~ ~

Fred had been distant since you had told him and George about Cedric inviting you out. You wouldn't have told him if you knew that this was going to be his reaction. It felt terrible to be on bad terms with your friend.

Friend.

"He definitely meant it as a date, Y/N." Fred had remarked.

"What if I meant it as a date, too? Maybe I want it to be a date." You hadn't really thought about saying it, mostly because you didn't know if your words were true. Did you want it to be a date? Did Cedric even like you in that way? so many questions.

Fred looked awfully hurt by the comment and had since then not talked to you, which annoyed you greatly. He was for sure hiding something... right? It's hard to know what he truly feels when he doesn't want to talk to you. And the worst part is, George had looked you straight in the eyes and said,

"For the first time, I think you said something that wasn't very smart, Y/N."

It was all a mess at this point. Being without Fred was lonely, George was there, of course. But Fred was a missing piece to your puzzle.

~ ~ ~ ~

The lunch was amazing and Cedric was even nicer than you thought. He was easy to talk with and got the conversation going. He knew how to make you smile, laugh and downright guffaw. He's a nice bloke, you thought to yourself.

It was a pity he had to leave so early, he was having a meeting with his head of house and talking about the upcoming task. It was only then that you realized he hadn't told you how he had found out about it.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Can you stop being such a tosser, Fred?"

He sat in an armchair in the empty Gryffindor common room, reading a book about quidditch. Although he hadn't turned a page in at least ten minutes at this point.

"Does it bother you?" He asked, looking passive to your presence.

Rolling your eyes, you snatched his book out of his hands. "Look at me!"

"What do you want me to say?"

"To explain why you're being such a - such a -"

"Dick?"

"Yes!" You exclaimed, looking relieved he understood.

Fred sat up straighter and rubbed his hands over his face. "Y/N, I don't want you to get dragged into this whole tournament thing." You waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"What?" You said, getting annoyed again.

"I mean, Cedric is in this game. It's going to be dangerous."

"For me?"

"If you get attached to him, sure. He might get hurt and I don't want to see you moping around and being all sad. I can't handle sad people, they tend to irritate me with all their emotions and shit ." He noted, looking you straight in the eyes.

Confused, you sat his book aside and took a seat on the red sofa. "He's my friend, of course, I'm worried about him. It's tough tasks he has to get through. But I still don't understand why you would get so upset about it."

Fred merely shrugged and sunk back into his usual position in the armchair. "You're my - my friend, too. I don't want you to get hurt."

You didn't know whether to believe him or not. Was this really the reason as to why he was acting this way? But you accepted it and smiled warmly at him.

"Well, thank you for worrying about me."

Fred smiled, too. And it brought you such happiness you were surprised by it yourself. "That's what friend do for each other, right?" He said.

"Right. And it's not like he's going to die, anyway."

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 105

I’ve managed to get slightly ahead on these, so: A belated thank you to @littleshydragon, @dark-chocolat-cupcake, @overusedblur, and @allegrochicken for all the love I have seen blowing up my notes recently (I’m queuing this on Aug 25, even if it won’t post until Sept 8). 

Also, to the 30 new followers who I have somehow acquired: Welcome!  Ask box is always open, and I don’t get nearly enough of them.  I love to interact with y’all, so don’t be afraid to ask me every little question you think of as you read.  Anon is on if you feel you need that.

Other than that, thanks for this chapter goes out to @baelpenrose for beta reading.  Also @quantumizedinsanity, @charlylimph-blog, @wildforestferret, @creakingcryptid, for the characters you gave me to play with in chapters like this.

Later that same ‘day’, I was forcefully reminded of Noah’s observation regarding human communication.  Things were generally calm, and an impromptu family meal-snack-thing was happening in my quarters. Antoine had been over to visit, as he seemed to be making up for lost time caused by infiltrating Jokul’s accidental cult.  Zach and Hannah were over, as well, so when dinner time rolled around, I just threw together some small po-boy sandwiches and banh mi for us to snack on while we kept visiting, rather than making a full meal.

Hey, I was allowed lazy days, too.

As it happened sometimes, conversation turned to things we either did or didn’t miss from Before.  Tonight was very firmly in the ‘do not miss’ category.

“Plagues started by dumb experiments,” Maverick pointed out, smirking.

Catching on, Conor swatted him playfully. “I said I was sorry about that! And Else is an alright person, turns out.”

Snorting, Hannah covered her face with one hand. “Tell that to Nixe.”

“Her new tail is gorgeous,” I gushed. “If I got reparations like that, I’d at least consider forgiving someone.”

“For almost killing you?”

“It was an accident,” I brushed the comment off, reminded of explaining that gesture to Noah. “Besides, there are a lot of other things I genuinely don’t miss.”

“Aunt Flo,” Hannah intoned seriously.

“Tyche and I already did that one, so it’s not admissible,” I admonished. “But spoiled food? Do not miss.”

Zach shuddered. “Hell, that’s not even from Before. I don’t miss that at all.”

Antoine lifted his coffee in a mock-toast. “To all the people we lost to antibiotics.” After a few confused looks banded around the room, I laughed and waved at him to clarify. Rolling his eyes dramatically, he sighed. “Bread mold. This is why people died in the After of antibiotic allergies: they didn’t know it was derived from bread mold.”

“Dude, that’s dark,” Zach whispered.

Clearing his throat, Conor soldiered on. “I never lived through one, but wildfires were pretty bad, yeah?”

Nodding seriously, Maverick - who had lived on the western coast of NorthAm - added “Yeah, fuck THOSE things. Australia had it worse, but still.”

Raising her hand and waving it, Hannah started making eager noises to ask for her turn.  “Absolutely idiotic job requirements, am I right?” Nods abounded, and she took the opportunity to vent the spleen I hadn’t even guessed her to possess. “The number of jobs I didn’t get because I didn’t have a degree were absurd. I don’t even know why they even required them, for some!  I’m sure most of you had that happen.”

I kept my silence, but Conor was right behind her. “A Master’s in Engineering, to be a foreman.  You’re babysitting a bunch of knuckleheads pounding rebar and pouring concrete!  And they’ve had a decade of learning to do it right, I would’ve just been there to make sure it was compliant. And they wanted a Master’s for that!”

Hannah took a sip of her drink and nodded eagerly. “That’s what I’m talking about! There was a job I qualified for that was basically a glorified secretary… They wanted a four-year degree and paid peanuts. Absurd.  But I was unemployed for way more of my life than I should have been, because I didn’t have that piece of paper.”

Idly, Zach stared at his drink.  Like me, he had one of said-degrees, so this was something of a conversation we couldn’t really take part in. “I wonder how many Councillors we would have if those kind of requirements were put in place here.” Arching an eyebrow, he glanced up at me and inclined his head knowingly.

“Well,” I exhaled. “It depends. If they asked for a Master’s degree of any kind, I wouldn’t be a Councillor.” A thought struck me. “Hey - “

“No, Sophia, you cannot recommend that as a way to retire from the Council,” Antoine scolded with a laugh. “You would be grandfathered in with everyone else.”

The laughter broke the serious tone that had descended, and led to everyone speculating jovially, starting with Conor. “Well, we know Grey would still be a Councillor in that case - they admitted they had a PhD when Else was still getting sorted, rather than an MD.”

“Pretty sure Eino has a Master’s, at least,” Zach pointed.

Maverick shook his head, firmly disagreeing. “Doctorate in Education. I saw it on his wall. Don’t sell that one short.”

“So that’s two.” Hannah leaned forward eagerly. “Conor, what about Huynh?”

“Masters in Engineering,” he confirmed ruefully. “But he’s no PhD.”

“Pranav,” Zach interjected. “Post grad in robotics. Even worked on some of the Padrugoi mission stuff, early on.”

A respectful murmur filled the room, accompanied by appropriately impressed nods. Maverick had to actually shake the starstruck look out of his eyes before he could speak. “So that’s three PhDs, one Master’s, and a Bachelor’s on the Council. Not bad, honestly.”

Antoine cleared his throat politely. “Grey actually has two doctorates, if I am recalling correctly.”

I shook my head firmly. “Three. Biochemistry, genetics, and molecular chemistry.”

With a low whistle, Conor shook his head. “So, we have a clear leader as far as ‘most degrees on the Council’. Would Eino or Pranav be second, though?”

An argument erupted, and when it looked like Zach was about to say something, I shook my head. I knew the same thing he was about to point out, as a by-blow of fixing some of Derek’s more… enthusiastic shenanigans,  but I wanted to see if anyone would figure it out or even question it.  A solid half-hour later, Tyche arrived and scooped up a mini-sandwich before she even registered the conversation/argument taking place.

Whirling to face me, she pointed at the rest of the room and glared at me disdainfully. “Seriously? How long has this been going on?”

“Forty five minutes?” I admitted sheepishly. “Maybe an hour if you include the ‘what we don’t miss’ portion of the conversation.  But ‘degrees on the Council’ has been at least forty five minutes.”

“And you said fuck all?”

I shrugged. “I know it’s not me who has the most or even second most.  I have the least formal education of any Councillor.”

Tyche pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a long breath. “Okay, everyone. What do you know so far?”

Without hesitation, Maverick rattled it off. “Grey has three doctorates, Eino has one and  a Master’s, it turns out. Pranav has one doctorate and a Bachelor’s. Huynh has a Master’s, and Sophia has a Bachelor’s.”

“And the Councillor you have left out?” she interrogated wearily, while Zach and I tried to restrain our laughter.

“Xiomara?” he asked, face scrunched in confusion. “She was career military, but I don’t know if she has any degrees. Maybe a Bachelor’s?”

Tyche shook her head, glaring again when I started gasping for breath. “Wrong. And you know what? Soph knew this, so I’m going to make her tell all of you. Like she should have. From the beginning.”

“Hey!” I cried, still giggling. “I was giving them a whole other 5 minutes before I broke the news. I just wanted to see if they would even question their reasoning.”  Antoine’s eyes got wide, sending me into another giggling fit. “None of you even mentioned the idea of Xiomara having any degree,” I gasped, almost in hysterics. “Mav was in the military, so I get that he just assumed she was busy as fuck, but… et tu, everyone?”

Hannah’s head turned slowly to stare down Zach. In self defense, he held up both hands with one pointing at me. “She told me not to say anything.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I did!”

Carefully, Conor slowly asked the question that was on everyone else’s minds. “Sophie? What’s so funny?”

Tears were pouring down my face at this point - not because I thought the situation was funny, because it wasn’t. Not really.  I was hysterical because I was so caught off guard that we still brought something like this with us. “I don’t know the real reason why nobody considered Xiomara, and I’m scared to ask at this point. I’m hoping it’s because she looks tough as hell and like the kind of person who would beat up highly educated people rather than be one.” Wiping a tear from my face, I glanced at Tyche. Her jaw was tight, clearly thinking the same things I was. “But the fact that she is the only other woman on the Council, that hurts, honestly.”

I took a few deep breaths to compose myself. “The fact is, Xiomara has five degrees. Five. Along with her military career. Tyche and I have to know this, since we handle staffing.” Counting on my fingers, I started ticking them off. “Two doctorates, one in international law and one in experimental economics - as in, yes, the calorie economy was her idea. A Master’s in military history, along with two Bachelor’s degrees: one in experimental chemistry and one in nuclear physics.” Shaking my head, I glanced at the shocked and guilty expressions in the room. “It isn’t three PhDs, but damn, y’all. The woman has five degrees!”

“How did she do that, and a military career, so young?” Maverick asked, his tone nothing but awed.

Antoine looked confused at the question. “My friend, how old do you think Xiomara is?”

He shrugged. “Sophie’s age? So, thirtyish?”

Conor poked him. “Mav. You know how old Sophie is.”

Maverick rolled his eyes. “Fine. So maybe forty? The whole healing stuff messes with me, I’ll be honest.”

Smiling, I cut him some slack. “Xiomara is just over ten years older than me,” I clarified.

Hannah’s eyes widened, and Zach looked like he had been punched in the gut. “So hot-scary-lady is fifty?” After Tyche and I nodded, he shook his head. “That’s still super-impressive for fifty. For seventy, even!” Zach shook his head. “Grey, I could understand. They seem like the type to just live for education, you know? But, Xio? I’ve known for a year and I still get dizzy thinking about it.”

“It does explain why she’s so intimidating,” Conor pointed out. When I opened my mouth to scold him, he held up one hand. “No! No. Doctorates have to be argued and defended, right? Plus one of those is in law. And she balanced a military career on top of all that. If I accomplished all that, people would look at me with respect and expect me to be a direct, take-no-prisoners kind of person.” He glanced at Antoine, who winced and nodded in confirmation. 

“She isn’t though,” I complained. “She’s a leader.”

“Definitely not ruthless, but she is intimidating to the general population,” Hannah pointed out gently. “That’s part of what Jokul was talking about, right? The Ark, as a whole, doesn’t get to see her get excited over her favorite foods, or pictures of baby pandas, or…. Cherries? Is it cherries she’s crazy for?”

“Pomegranate,” I corrected, begrudgingly.

“Pomegranate,” Hannah asserted. “They don’t get to see that. They get to see ‘hot-scary-lady who lays down the law’. Not ‘Xiomara who gets googly eyed when Parvati Fletcher wears that one violet shirt’.”

“Or hates plantains,” Tyche pointed out. “Which never made sense to me, because fried plantains are basically dessert with dinner.”

I started to giggle a bit. “It makes even less sense when you’ve seen her order coffee.” Tyche groaned, but more confused looks bounded about the room. Full out laughing, I explained. “She… she puts… maybe three ounces of coffee? Not espresso, just regular coffee… with what looks like a gallon - “ I snorted so hard it hurt my nose, but couldn’t stop. “Of milk! And sugar! Oh gods, she must put a cup of sugar in her coffee, I swear!”

Hannah and Zach exchanged glances, as did Conor and Maverick. Within seconds, the entire room erupted in laughter. “That?” Conor gasped. “That is hilarious….���

“I...I always thought… she took her coffee blacker than sin….” Zach wheezed. “And baby pandas?”

Sobering suddenly, I straightened and glared at the entire room. “OI!” I shouted. “Baby pandas are fucking cute, and if you don’t think so, you aren’t human, and I will ask Noah to do genetic testing to prove that.”

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[lostinthewiind]

hi! can i ask an angst with luz please? we don’t see him very often on those types of one-shot, it can be interesting!

You’re right, anon, there are very few angsty fics with everyone’s favourite radioman. I would like everyone to remember that this was requested, so whatever I’m about to write is not my fault and therefore I am not responsible for any emotions that may or may not be elicited. 

Warnings: mentions and discusses abortion...also, it’s just fuckin’ sad, okay?

Tag List: @warmommy @gottapenny @croatianbagudna @wexhappyxfew @scissorsfordoc @curraheev @mayhem24-7forever @one-who-hunts-eagles @bandofmarvels @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @wildwilliamguarnere @majwinters @theonetryingtolive @higgles123 @those-dusty-jump-wings @medievalfangirl @whoabrekker @maiden-of-gondor @thefricklefracklesin

The Difference Between Us

Sitting on the edge of the bed, your eyes glued to the door of the barracks, you bounced your leg up and down and chewed on your bottom lip nervously. Any minute now he would walk through that door and you were going to rip his goddamn heart out; you knew it.

One way or another, this conversation wasn’t going to end well and you hated that. You had tried every waking moment for the past few days to figure out a way to make it right — a way to stop anyone involved from getting hurt — but it was seemingly impossible, and to make things worse, you couldn’t get over the nagging feeling that you had made the wrong decision.

But then again, any decision seemed like the wrong one. From any angle you looked at the situation from, it was undoubtedly a lose-lose scenario. 

Dropping your head, you closed your eyes, drew in a deep breath, and moved your hand over your stomach. If it had happened any other way you were sure you would be feeling much different; happy, even. But, of course, it wasn’t happening any other way, it was happening this way. 

The worst way possible. 

Hearing the door open, you jumped to your feet and willed yourself to hide away any and every sliver of emotion from your face. The way he smiled when he saw you in front of him, the way his face lit up when he realized he was alone with you — all of that characteristic joy was about to shatter into a million pieces and you were going to be the cause of it. 

“Hey,” George’s eyes scanned the room as he walked toward you, making sure that the barracks were indeed empty except for the two of you. “How are you?” he cautiously placed his hands on your waist and planted a single, loving kiss to your trembling lips. Thankfully, though, he was too caught up in the moment to notice just how nervous you were.

“I’m good,” you felt your anxiety melt away for a little while as he looked down at you, his sparkling brown eyes taking in every inch of your face. “How are you?”

George smiled before kissing you again. Kissing you was without a doubt one of his favourite things to do in the world. The way your soft lips felt on his, the way you somehow always smelled nice no matter how long it had been since you had last showered, and the way you hummed contently when he did so drove him absolutely wild. “I’m much better now.” he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I know I just saw you this morning but I’m not ashamed to say I missed you.”

You giggled slightly, the minuscule rumbling in your chest when you did so an almost foreign feeling. You couldn’t remember the last time you had genuinely laughed, but like always, leave it to George Luz to cheer you up even in the darkest of moments. “I missed you too.” 

“Good.” he flashed one of those quick smiles that he used to send your way from across a crowded bar before the two of you had gotten together. “So, what’s up? What did you want to talk to me about?”

You swallowed hard as the intensity of the circumstances came flooding back. Oh, how you wished it was just another time the two of you were meeting up to sneak off together and make love somewhere quiet and secluded. Ironically though, it was one of those very meetings that had gotten you into the trouble you were currently in in the first place. 

“Right, that...��� you let your eyes wander as you began to try and remember the speech you had prepared earlier, but of course, it was completely gone. “I think we should sit down.” you gestured to the bed behind you.

George eyed the bed for a moment before looking back at you, a playful look on his handsome face. “Am I in trouble?” he asked.

“No.” you shook your head and sat down first before patting the spot next to you. “No, you’re not in trouble but...”

Catching on to the seriousness of the situation, George wiped the smirk from his mouth and lowered himself down next to you. “But?” he took one of your hands in his and gave a light squeeze. “Y/N, is something wrong?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question because yes, of course, something was wrong, but you wanted nothing more for it not to be a problem at all. If only there was nothing wrong. 

“Ummm, well...” you wracked your brain for the right words to say. The way he was looking at you, non-the-wiser as to what was about to happen, broke your heart. He was always so happy, always so willing to do something stupid to make someone else laugh — especially if that someone was you. You hadn’t even done it yet and you already hated yourself for what you put him through.

Forcing the smallest smile ever, you looked down at your hand in his and sighed. “I have to go away for a few days.” you started. 

George furrowed his eyebrows at you as his head tilted ever-so-slightly to the side like an adorably confused puppy. “Go away?” he inquired. “Where? Why?”

“Well...” you paused for a moment, your bottom lip once again finding itself between your teeth. “Okay, do you remember that night we spent together about a month or so ago? Behind that old barn in the hay?”

A wicked grin spread across George’s face as soon as you clarified. “How could I possibly forget?” he leaned in closer and pressed a kiss to the skin just in front of your ear. “God, the sounds you made for me when I took you that second time. I’d love to hear those sounds again.” he began to get carried away as he trailed his lips down your neck before beginning to suck and bite at the flesh on your shoulder.

Your head fell back for a split second and a barely audible moan escaped before you caught yourself and gently pushed George back, your palm planted firmly in the middle of his chest. “Yes, that night.” you cleared your throat and gave a curt nod. “Well, something happened that night.”

George snorted. “Yeah, I had some of the best sex of my life.”

“George, please, I’m trying to be serious here,” you begged for him to stop messing around. Whether he knew it or not, it was making it so much harder for you to get the words out every time he made a joke or even cracked a smile. “As amazing as that night was, something happened and I...God, why is this so hard to say?”

With a frustrated huff, you buried your head in your hands and rested your elbows on your knees. “I can’t fucking do this...” you said, your voice mumbled by your hands.

Seeing you there beside him, hunched over like that finally got the message through to George. Whatever was going on, it was actually important. Scooting closer, the company radioman wrapped his arm around you and bent over as well. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he carefully pried your hands away from your face. “Talk to me, baby. I’m here.”

Sitting up straight again, you wiped away the few tears that had gathered and took a moment to compose yourself that best you could. “I’m...” your hand went to your stomach again. “I’m...”

George’s eyes dropped down and watched as you rubbed soothing circles over the fabric of your undershirt. For a second or two, he was beyond confused, but then he put the pieces together and his eyes widened and his head snapped up. “You don’t mean...” his hand moved to rest over the top of yours. “You’re...?”

With glossy eyes, you nodded. “Yeah.” you squeaked out. “...pregnant...”

You had no idea how he was going to react, but when George Luz smiled wide and hugged you tight, your heart burst right then and there. Oh, how you had hoped he wasn’t going to be happy — what a horrible thing to hope. 

“A baby?” his wonder was akin to a child, for lack of a better comparison. “We’re going to have a baby? Gosh, well, I had been planning for us to get through the war first and then move in together and then, ideally, get married first, but you know what, to hell with plans! I’m going to be a father!”

George had been so busy rambling on about how excited he was that he didn’t even notice when you began to sob into his shoulder, your whole body shaking as you cried out with the worst emotional pain you had ever felt in your entire life. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and squeezed your heart until it exploded before ripping the fragments out shard by shard. 

When George’s mouth finally stopped moving a mile a minute and all that remained were the desperate gasps for air in between your muffled screams, he was back to being utterly confused. “Y/N?” his tone was laced with worry and panic. “Y/N?” he held you by the shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why are you upset? We’re going to be parents. This is everything we’ve always talked about. We’re going to have a baby!”

“No!” the sound tore through your already raw throat. “No, we aren’t.”

“N-no?” George repeated, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment. “What do you mean ‘no’?” 

Opening your mouth wide so you could suck in as much air as possible, you gripped onto George’s arms for stability — more mental stability than physical. “We aren’t going to have a baby.” your voice wobbled. “I can’t...I can’t be in the army and be pregnant. I can’t have a career and have a baby.”

“The army? A career?” George questioned, trying his very hardest to wrap his mind around where you were going with this. “Sweetheart, I don’t understand what you’re saying here.”

Closing your eyes, you felt as a single tear slid down your cheek. “I’m going away for a few days.” your breathing was shaky as you reminded him of the first thing you had told him. “And when I get back I won’t be-”

“No!” George pressed a finger to your lips to keep you from continuing your sentence. “No, don’t say it.” he shook his head, his eyes beginning to water just like yours as he suddenly and all at once caught on to what was going on. “You-you can’t. How could you...”

“I don’t want to.” you grabbed fistfuls of his sleeves. “I really don’t want to but-”

“Then don’t.” he planted his hands on your face and pulled you in for a desperate kiss. “Then don’t do it. Don’t kill our-”

You kissed him again to prevent him from saying another word. “Please don’t finish that sentence.” you pleaded. “Please, if you love me, you won’t say that to me. This decision was the hardest one I have ever had to make in my entire fucking life and although it probably doesn’t seem like it, this hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”

“Then why are you doing it?” he pressed his hands to your stomach again, an action that only pained you more. “Then why? Y/N, why? That’s my baby in there...that’s our baby in there. Why?”

“Because I’ve worked so hard to be where I am today,” you confessed, feeling every bit as guilty about it as you did when you first made the decision. “I can’t throw it all away like this. As soon as they find out I’m pregnant they will send me home. I can’t go home. I need this, George. Please try to understand.”

“I can’t.” he stood to his feet and ran a shaky hand through his fluffy brown hair. “I can’t understand, Y/N. We could have a family and you’re worried about throwing away a fucking war for it? It’s war, Y/N. There will always be war. There might not always be a chance like this. Please, think it through.”

You stared up at the on-edge man before you, your fingers pulling at one another to try and relieve some of the stress and anxiety. “I have thought it through.”

There was no response to that. Instead, George began to pace back and forth, his face twisted up in such a way that you had never seen before — a way that you never wanted to see again. You waited a minute or so to see if he would say something, but when he didn’t, you decided to try to get through to him. 

“George,” you whispered.

“What?” he snapped, his tone aggressive and not one he had ever used with you before. 

You blinked a few times and waited until the rising and falling of his chest returned to a rhythmic, steady pace again. “George, please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not-” he growled before realizing the anger in his voice and forcing himself to calm down a little. “I’m not mad, I’m just...” he paused before rushing toward you, dropping down onto his knees in front of you, and pressing a kiss to your stomach. “Please don’t do this.” you listened as his voice broke and he nuzzled your shirt. “Please don’t...baby, please...I love you so much and I know we can make this work. Please.” he began to cry, his shoulders jolting as he fell apart before you. 

Rubbing soothing circles into his back with one hand, you used the other to lift his chin so he was looking at you again. George’s eyes were red and his cheeks were wet from his tears and you swore that you never wanted to make that man cry again for as long as you lived. However, that still didn’t change your decision. Unfortunately, nothing would.

“I love you so much.” he sniffled as his hands grabbed for yours. “I knew from the moment I met you that I loved you and all I’ve ever wanted since then was to escape this hell hole, marry you, and start a family...and I was under the impression that was what you wanted to.”

“It is.” you watched as his face lifted slightly before you crushed his hope all over again. “It is...just not right now. Not like this.”

“Y/N, I’m literally on my knees begging you right now.” he was as persistent as the day was long. “You don’t have to do this.”

Cupping his face with your palms, you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. “I do,” you told him. “I know it doesn’t make any sense to you right now, and maybe it never will, but I do. I’ve had to fight every single day to be where I am today, I’ve had to prove so many people wrong...I can’t give up now and prove them right.”

“I think that’s the difference between you and me.” George pulled his face out of your hands, wiped his tears, and stood up. “You seem to think that having a family with me is ‘giving up’ while I think that having a family with you is everything I have ever wanted in life. All I wanted was to find a beautiful, kind, smart, funny woman who I loved and who loved me and spend the rest of my life with her. I thought I had done that...but I guess I was wrong.”

“George,” you reached out for him, but before you could take his hand, he backed away. “George, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Yes it is,” he argued. “That’s been very evident since the moment you decided that fighting some Nazi bastards was more important than the human life — our human life — that is growing inside of you. It’s been evident since you made this decision without even talking to me first.”

“But I am, I am talking to you!” you stood up as well. “I’m talking to you right now.”

George shook his head and scoffed. “No, you’re not. You’re not talking to me about what could happen, you’re telling what is going to happen.”

“George this doesn’t mean that we can’t ever have a family.” you tried to convince him. “I just can’t do it right now.”

“No.” he held up his hand to silence you. “No, I can’t do this back and forth anymore, so I’m going to ask you one last time; are you actually going to kill our baby so you can stay and fight in a war that isn’t even yours?”

You felt your breathing hitch. “I told you not to say that.” 

“Answer the damn question.” he didn’t even show any emotions anymore; he was like a blank canvas. “Yes or no?”

You took a single, uncertain step forward. “George.”

“The fact that you won’t even answer me tells me all I need to know.” he began to back away toward the door. “Just, do me a favour, when you get back from your little trip, don’t try to talk to me. I’m done. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“No!” you cried out, but all that was there as you reached out with a single, clawing hand was the barrack door swinging shut. With bated breath, you listened as his footsteps got quieter and quieter, and then when they were finally gone you collapsed to your knees and began to cry harder than you had ever cried before. 

Hands on your stomach, you whispered sorries to your unborn child and to George. Even you didn’t understand why you were doing what you were doing anymore. 

Your chest ached, your heart hurt, and your lungs stung. You had known the conversation wasn’t going to end well, but never in a million years had you expected it to turn out like this. 

Having what you wanted had resulted in you losing everything you needed. 

You were so sorry, but there was no one around to hear your apologies. No one around to hear you cry out, no one around to care. 

“I’m sorry...” you peered down at your stomach and found yourself rethinking every choice you had made that lead up to where you were right then. “I’m so sorry.”