#her one pickup line is offering people jobs

[cactiaintracist]

Justice for the lesbian power couple we deserve;

“you have a very good brain” *hearteyes*

[maybankiara]

MISTER, I'LL TAKE HER ROSES

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera summary: JJ offers to pick up Kiara from the airport, despite only having spoken to her once before, years ago. Long drives, country music, diner burgers, and some sunsets await for them. w/c: 7k a/n: i have returned from the dead with this. jj-centric, as i tend to write, and some fluff sprinkled in with pining, of course, because it's jiara we're talking about. masterlist | tag list read on archive of our own

It's situations like these that JJ gets himself into, then regrets, purely because of one thing: his mouth is quicker than his brain.

And boy, does JJ Maybank love to put himself at other people's expense.

With one hand on the wheel and the other hanging outside the driver's window of his pickup truck ( Baby , he calls it, because she's his everything), JJ sings along to some Zak Brown song that's playing on the radio, and wonders how the fuck did he manage to find himself driving for hours, away from the setting sun, with a bouquet of roses in his backseat for a girl he hadn't thought of in years.

The song changes to a Kylie Morgan one and he turns it down, just a little bit. Another pickup truck passes him -- it's the first sign of life he'd seen for miles. Charleston is still some time away, and JJ's got nothing but time to kill.

Four hours ago, he was dropping off fresh packages of beef mince in the back of The Wreck. He was wearing his oil-stained sweatpants because all the others were in the wash, and he wasn't wearing a top, because it was one of those days that burn into your skin if you're not careful enough. He's just lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you look at it) that his skin's been burnt enough it doesn't change anymore.

'You're kidding,' said Mike, the owner, speaking into the phone he held to his face with more ferocity than JJ would've been comfortable with if he was on the other end of the line. 'I can't have that ready for tomorrow morning.'

JJ passed him and placed another box in the warehouse, wiping the sweat off his brow. He gave a wave to Cleo, one of the servers, who was helping him move stuff to the fridge.

'Your boss is having a bad day,' he said.

Cleo scoffed. 'He's always having a bad day.'

'No, like, really .'

They both stood in their place for a few moments as Mike argued outside, something about accounts and a tax return that didn't seem to be correct.

JJ pointed a thumb over his back, in Mike's direction. 'That's why I don't have an office job.'

'Or own a shop,' said Cleo.

'Exactly. You good to get the rest?'

'Mhm, I'll get this to the fridge, you bring the last over and I'll get it signed off if Mike can't.'

'Ha. Think he's a bit too busy for that.'

JJ went past Mike again (he was talking about having something important to do tonight which was why the whole thing was an even bigger issue) and brought the remaining two boxes out of the Heyward truck. His truck, in a way -- despite him saying to Cleo he doesn't want to own a shop or have an office job, things were headed in that direction, with Heyward having the vision of both expanding the trade to the other islands in the Outer Banks and leaving the shop to JJ and Pope to handle.

It was a lot to think about. Meaning, JJ wanted nothing to do with it, right now.

He scooped up the boxes and nodded at Mike in the passing ('I've planned everything to pick her up tonight. I'm not leaving her waiting for me for this. It's important---No, you listen to me !') and brought the last to Cleo, all the way to the fridge.

'Who's he picking up tonight?'

'You need to stop being up in everybody's business.' Cleo took the boxes from him and stood all the way on her tiptoes to reach the highest shelf. 'It's Kiara. She's coming back from the Bahamas, or wherever she was doing her environmental stuff.'

'Oh. Kiara,' JJ said, letting the name wash over his tongue. 'I hadn't thought of her in years.'

Cleo threw a glance at the door, where all JJ could see was Mike's hand waving up and down as if the person on the phone could see him. She leaned over, checking that none of the other staff are within the hearing range, and said: 'Rumour has it that she's cut all ties with her family for years and is now coming back, tail between her legs.'

JJ scoffed. That didn't sound like the Kiara he knew, so he said that. Cleo just shrugged, reminding him that she'd moved to Kildare right before Kiara left. Anything could be true, if you asked her.

He liked to think he knew better.

With that being the last of the boxes, JJ bid his farewell to his kind-of-friend. She had signed off the paperwork for the restaurant, but JJ still needed a signature from Mike, seeing as he was the most senior person here. This is, in JJ's opinion, the very moment that got him into this situation.

He overheard little bits before that, but standing next to Mike as he signed off the paperwork while talking to the person on the phone, JJ couldn't help but to listen in. He also happened to piece it all together, even if against his will.

Kiara Carrera was returning to Kildare after years away, tonight, in Charleston, and now there was no one to pick her up.

So JJ said, interrupting Mike mid-sentence: 'Sir, I can pick her up.'

Mike covered the bottom of the phone (too old to know how to mute) and asked JJ to repeat himself. JJ did, so Mike asked what he's on about.

'I've got nothing to do after this, and my truck's big enough to get a fair amount of suitcases in, if you need. And I've also got no plans for the evening.'

'Just to be clear,' Mike said. 'You're offering to drive all the way to Charleston to pick Kiara up?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Her plane lands at quarter to midnight.'

'That's alright, Sir.'

'And you're okay with that.'

'Yes, Sir.'

Mike frowned. 'Why?'

All JJ could do was shrug. 'Got nothing better to do.'

And that was it -- he had nothing better to do. It was the truth, because Pope was off on holiday, and the only plans he had for the evening consisted of eating leftover pizza and watching whatever's new on Netflix. Driving to Charleston was miles better than that. Hell, he hadn't even left the island in over a year, feels like.

But, yeah. A part of him was curious about the rumour. And a part of him was wondering how Kiara Carrera's life turned out, because not a lot of people make it off the island and those that do, they don't come back.

But she did. And that was enough for JJ.

After agreeing to the plan and finalising the details, including texting Kiara that it'd be JJ picking her up (which she wouldn't get until she landed, anyway), Mike went to his car. He returned with a bouquet of roses.

Now, JJ doesn't know anything about roses, but they damn sure make his car smell nice. They're the expensive kind, he can tell, because they're vibrant and big and the bow they're wrapped with is some fancy material he doesn't know the name off. He can see them in the backseat, taunting him, asking him why he's doing this.

A Warren Zeiders song comes on. Some Whiskey , JJ thinks it's called. He knows some of the words.

He doesn't know the answer.

JJ makes a pit stop about halfway to Charleston, to fill up his tank. Lots of shady people there, he found, watching the numbers to go up. A guy in a cowboy hat and Doc Martens, as well as some girl on her phone who looks very pissed off, in outfit too revealing for this kind of autumn weather. JJ thinks about offering her a lift, but something about the snark of her lip makes him rethink that.

In the end, he goes up to pay and returns with a Reese's chocolate bar and some Hershey's. The girl's still there and the guy with the cowboy hat is gone, an elderly trucker in his place.

It's easy for JJ forget that there's a world outside of Kildare.

The road ahead of him is the same as the half he's left behind. Occasional lights coming from the other direction, but the road's straight with nothing adorning its sides, nothing for him to look at aside from the sky changing colours in his rearview mirror.

He thinks about Kiara.

It's been years since he'd seen her last. It was senior prom at the Kook Academy, and he was only there because some girl asked him to be her prom date. She was rich, hot, and they were having an afterparty at Sarah Cameron's, so obviously he was going to go for the free booze.

He doesn't even remember the name of the girl he was with. They weren't even dating, she just wanted to piss of her parents, and JJ was always down for that.

Kiara, on the other hand...

He throws a glance at the roses in the back. Her dad probably doesn't know, but for a while after that night, JJ would think of her whenever he saw roses, be it in a bouquet or still growing, in the wild.

(But the rose bush always reminded him of her more. Something about the untamed potential...)

He left his date to go out for a smoke. His best mate, John B, was eating Sarah Cameron's face somewhere in the shadows behind the school, even though she'd come there with Topper Thornton, but JJ didn't care much about the drama.

'Smoking's bad for you,' came a voice from behind him.

The girl sat down on the bench next to him, half hidden in what little light fell from the school porch, and took the joint out of his hand.

And put it to her lips.

'Hypocrite,' JJ said, with no bite.

She just shrugged. 'I like it. I just know it's bad.'

With a puff, she handed the joint back to him, and JJ felt like they'd made a silent promise to pass it back and forth, so they did.

Eventually, he stopped smoking, and he'd never seen her smoke before or after again. Sometimes, back when this was recent, he'd wonder if she pretended to smoke just to speak to him, then remember that she did it a little too easily for that to be true.

'Not enjoying the party?'

She leaned back against the bench, smiling a little. 'It's not bad. Just needed to step outside for a moment.'

'And for some free weed.'

'Eh. Doesn't hurt.'

She smiled at him and he offered her another one. She put it to her lips and leaned forward, waiting patiently as he brought his Zippo to it. Her eyes bore into his, even in the darkness, and he wondered what she thought of him -- a Pogue, sharing a joint with a Kook.

He'd spent the whole night feeling like a beggar in the king's clothing, until now. In the darkness, the clothing wasn't what mattered.

She inhaled and closed her eyes before exhaling a moment later. JJ watched her, a little too closely -- the pouted lips as the smoke blew out, the curve of her nose, the fullness of her cheek. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard bun with strands falling out, outlining her face, even in the dark.

Even in the dark, JJ Maybank knew he ain't never seen someone so pretty his whole damn life.

Kiara passed the joint to him. 'It's rude to stare.'

'Can't help it.'

She just laughed.

Behind them, he heard Sarah Cameron laugh, too. He turned just in time to see her running across the lawn with John B in hand -- the same John B who swore to him they were over not too long ago, but JJ knew it wasn't true, and didn't resent his friend for it.

'Thought she was with Topper,' said Kiara.

JJ sighed. 'Don't ask me anything.'

'Alright.'

The joint swapped owners again. She crossed her legs and the slit on the red dress exposed her all the way to the top of her thigh, and JJ couldn't take his eyes off of her.

'I don't think I've ever spoken to you,' she said.

'You're never on the wrong side of the island.'

'Maybe I always am.'

'Mhm.' JJ nudged her. 'That joint's hitting you.'

She smiled, but didn't say anything.

They passed the joint back and forth until it ran out and JJ stubbed the butt of it into the ground and, when questioned, explained he doesn't care about this side of the island enough to protect its environment. It made Kiara laugh and he decided he'd like to do that again. Make her laugh again.

So he said, 'Wanna get out of here?'

She quirked her brow, so he clarified: 'Not like that. Just a walk.'

'Sure.'

Turned out she was in heels, which he should've anticipated, and walking on grass made her wobbly. She held upright as much as she could as they followed the same path Sarah and John B took earlier, but he stuck his elbow out after a while, and she wrapped her arm around it.

'Better?'

'Better,' she agreed. 'Thanks.'

She didn't let go of him when they got to the pavement, and he didn't make an attempt to get rid of her. In fact, he straightened his posture, remembering what Big John had told him: When in the presence of a lady, always choose to be a man, not a boy.

He had a feeling he was doing a decent enough job.

'So what's next for you?'

'Travelling the world,' Kiara said.

'All of it?'

'All of it.'

'Well, Ma'am,' said JJ, 'I hope you all of it is waiting for you.'

She laughed again. JJ felt like he won a prize at a carnival.

They passed the lawn, hearing hushed whispers of two lovers still hiding in the shadows. Both he and Kiara ignored them, but exchanged a conspiratorial glance. As far as he knew, she was as close to Sarah Cameron as she was to John B, and this sure as hell was a story to tell.

They ventured into the garden that led to the PE hall because of course, their school was going to have a garden. It was lit by a few dimmed lights, which surprised JJ -- but at this side of the island, the electricity bill probably wasn't even top fifteen of anyone's concerns.

'What about you?' she asked. 'What's next?'

'Nothing,' he said. 'Just more of the same, just no school.'

'You got a job?'

He nodded. 'I work for my friends' dad. Delivering merch and groceries to shop, that kind of stuff.'

'Heyward?'

'The one and only.'

She smiled. 'My dad gets his stuff from him, for The Wreck. I might see you around.'

'You might.'

They passed a bush of carnations, and JJ paused for a moment. They were pink and blooming; smelled like the bright moments of his childhoods.

He felt Kiara at his side, asking without words.

'Carnations were my mum's favourite flowers.'

'She has a good taste.'

He swallowed the lump in his throat. 'She did.'

Kiara's hand moved across his, gently, as if soothing him. 'I prefer roses. Cliche, I know,' she added as he chuckled. 'You just know there'll be in every shop, and everyone gives roses first. It's kind of nice.'

'Fair enough, I suppose.'

They walked further, not talking. JJ found himself enjoying her company and the feeling of her on his arm. The dress she wore revealed her leg every so often and it took all in him not to look, not to stare, not to fantasise. But he didn't. He really didn't.

Instead, when they approached a rose bush, he plucked a rose off it.

'For the most beautiful lady this evening.'

Kiara took it with a chuckle. 'Charming.'

'Funny. That's actually my middle name.'

She brought the rose to her nose and closed her eyes as she smelled it, and JJ felt like every single decision he'd made in this life led him to this very moment.

There was no street light reaching this corner of the garden, nothing bar the moonlight. Nothing but the silver gleam shining on Kiara's content face; he wondered what she was thinking about.

'Thank you,' she said, opening her eyes with a smile. 'It's a lovely rose.'

'You're most welcome, Ma'am.'

She kissed him on the cheek. He wondered if she was drunk, but it might've been the joint, and he didn't care.

'We should head back,' she said, wrapping her arm around his again. 'People might start wondering where we are.'

'Sure,' he said, when he wanted nothing more but to stay here, with her.

The walk back was quiet. Jj knew there was nothing waiting for him there, because his date must've found someone else to entertain her, and John B would likely be preoccupied with Sarah Cameron until it was time to go home.

When they got back to the porch, she tugged gently at his arm. 'I keep seeing you around, but I never got your name.'

He grinned. 'We're not all popular enough for people to know our names like you, Miss Carrera.'

'I'll blame it on Sarah.'

'Rightfully so,' he said. 'It's JJ. JJ Maybank.'

'Well, then,' she said, untangling their arms, 'thank you for keeping me company, JJ Maybank.'

'My pleasure.'

She smiled again, that mischieviously polite little smile of hers, and led them back into the hall. She joined her friends and he made his way back to his table, where his glass had been refilled by his date, and he knew it would be alcohol without even looking.

He didn't see Kiara again until she was leaving, giving him a small wave. Her arm was interlinked with Sarah Cameron's, as it was, and sure enough, there was a rose tucked into her hair.

JJ waved back.

It was the last he'd ever seen of Kiara Carrera.

Until now, anyway, he thinks as he turns off the engine, parks about a two minute walk from the airport. He has nothing with him apart from his car keys, phone, wallet, and a bouquet of roses.

It feels like life was playing a silly joke on him, and he's waiting for the right moment to laugh.

The airport is as quiet as he expected it to be at this time of night. There are a few people waiting, presumably for people from the same flight as Kiara, some of them with massive signs with names written on them.

JJ likes looking at people. He likes trying to figure out if they've made it in life, or at least if they think they have. He wonders if that guy wearing a full three-piece that looks too perfectly fitted to be out of a cheap shop thinks he has it all figured out. He wonders if he's waiting for a wife, a family member, or a business partner. There's also a guy with a young child sleeping in his arms -- the girl can't be more than five, six years old. Whoever it is they're waiting for, they must have a lot of good things going for them. JJ knows kids don't have patience for things like these unless they really want to.

The plane lands -- it says so on the big screen. JJ's sitting on the bench, knowing it'll be a while before Kiara comes out. He wonders if he should've written a sign, or if she'll recognise him. It's been a few years, but he's still as scruffy as he was when he was a teenager, even if he changed into jeans and a t-shirt before he came to get her.

He thinks about what to say -- does he explain why he's here, first thing? Does he ask about the flight?

It's only now that he's realising he hasn't thought this far ahead and now he's too stressed out to do so. He's mad at himself for offering to do this, because he still needs to drive home, and sure he had a few energy drinks on the way and a few more waiting in the car, but man. He really should've thought this through.

The luggage has arrived, or so says the screen.

JJ gets up and so do most of the people who spent the last few minutes on the benches. He feels his palms getting sweaty as he holds the roses.

People start walking through. He realises he doesn't know what Kiara looks like -- it's not like they follow each other on social media. What if he doesn't recognise her? If she doesn't recognise him, either, and they're just dumbly walking around the airport, looking for the other and not knowing they're just there?

Thoughts keep running through his head and he wishes he brought headphones, but it's too late now. She'll be here any moment now.

The guy shakes the little girl and she wakes up, running up to a woman in her early thirties as if she wasn't asleep less than a minute ago. It draws a smile out of both the guy and JJ.

The door opens, but it's not Kiara. It opens again, but it's not her -- it's an older gentleman in a suit and, rightfully so, he walks up to the other man in the suit.

The door opens and JJ sees suitcases first -- two of them, both big, and a backpack on top of one.

And then he sees the same haphazard bun he saw that night. Except the fancy red dress that kept him up for more nights than he'd like to admit has been swapped out for a sweater and joggers, and there was no makeup on her face.

Yet even so, JJ would still give her the rose for the most beautiful lady tonight.

He starts approaching the line as her eyes scanned the crowd. When their gazes meet, he knew she recognises him, even if the confusion between her brows takes him aback. Has she not read the text from her father?

Something's clearly up when Kiara's eyes move past him, still looking around the crowd, frowning deeper as she doesn't recognise anyone.

'Kiara,' he calls, approaching her. She doesn't hear, or react, so he calls again and when she finally looks, he smiles at her. 'I'm picking you up. Your dad texted you.'

Kiara chuckles, raising her phone -- the screen is fully cracked. 'Yeah, not getting anything from this poor thing.'

She's finally out of the gate and he takes her suitcases, not even waiting for her to ask (or say no, more likely). JJ starts making his way out of the airport and he's glad to see her following, even if she's half in a daze.

'What happened to it?'

She rubs her nose, and he realises her eyes are a little bloodshot. 'Dropped it getting off the plane. Ran my suitcase over it. End of.'

'That's some bad karma you've got there. You didn't get to check your phone before that?'

'Nope.' She looks around as they exit the airport and the wind blows on her face, sweeping the hairs around it. 'It's colder than I remember.'

'That's global warming for you,' JJ says. 'I'm parked just there.'

'How am I meant to know you're not kidnapping me?'

JJ laughs, and only then realises she's being at least partially serious. He lets go of the suitcases and reaches underneath his armpit, where he'd squished the bouquet, because of course he'd forgiven to actually give it to her.

So he gives it to her now -- a bouquet of roses.

(Wonders if she's thinking about the same night he is.)

'Your dad bought you these,' he says, 'so I said I'll take your roses.'

The frown dissipates and Kiara is smiling as she takes the flowers. JJ wishes he could take a picture, but takes the suitcases instead.

'Well, that explains the flowers, at least.' He hears her footsteps behind him, so he keeps walking to the car. 'Doesn't explain why you're here, of all people.'

'Well, I offered.'

'Why?'

'I had nothing better to do.'

'And that's just it?'

JJ opens the trunk. 'Do you always ask that many questions?'

She shrugs, and he's thinking of that night again. 'Usually.'

'Well, I drove here, and I'm about to drive back, and I don't really have extra time on my hands, so save the questions for the road.'

'No need to be so bossy,' she retorts, but she's getting into his truck alright.

He thinks about how she didn't even offer to help with the suitcases. Not that he minds, he wouldn't take her help even if she insisted, it's just not quite what he'd expect from the Kiara he knew, the feminist warrior known across the island.

But when he opens his door to get into the truck and the half-working light shines on her face, he can tell she's exhausted.

'Wanna grab something to eat?' JJ twists the key and the engine roars to life. 'There's a few diners on the way.'

'Are you hungry?'

'Starving.'

She smiles. 'Okay.'

They don't talk much after that. JJ drives them out of the parking lot and manoeuvres out of the Charleston post code via the scenic route. There's not much to be seen, but the odd street light and sets of suburbs in the distance are better than the straight road with nothing to it. There's gas stations and diners, sure---he wasn't lying about being hungry---but apart from it, the moon is their only acquaintance.

He lets her fiddle with the radio after she called her dad from his phone. He promised her not to judge her taste, so when she puts reggae on, he convinces himself to enjoy it, instead.

Kiara leans her head on the headrest. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her fingers tapping the rhythm on her things, and he wonders if she's a dancer. Surely she would be one.

'Thanks, JJ,' she says. 'For doing this when my dad couldn't.'

He shrugs. 'S'alright. I'm more surprised you remember my name.'

'You're not that easy to forget, you know.'

He laughs. 'You flatter me too much.'

He looks over and she's looking out of the window, the runaway strands shielding parts of her face from him. He wonders if she's telling the truth, or even what she meant by it---if she meant anything, that is---then decides to stop at the next diner he sees. Nothing good's come from an empty stomach and right now, there's two of those in the truck.

It’s less than ten minutes later that he pulls up at a 50’s-looking diner. He sees the question on Kiara’s face and promises her they’re not getting murdered here, though her eyes keep checking every corner on their way into the place. The bell chimes and the teenage guy at the till looks at them, but the two people sitting at each their own table pay them no mind.

‘Smells nice,’ says JJ.

Kiara hums in agreement. 

They find a booth close to the entrance, even if that means having the cold breeze if someone walks in. JJ doubts it—it’s nearly three o’clock—and thinks Kiara will feel more comfortable if they’re close to the way out. Just in case. Even though her shoulders are more relaxed now and she’s throwing less glances in the way of the other two customers, JJ would rather have her feel as comfortable and safe as possible.

He slides the menu across. ‘Have whatever you want. It’s on me.’

‘Shouldn’t it be on me?’ she asks, eyeing the menu. ‘You picked me up.’

‘Doesn’t work that way.’

‘Hm?’

‘Just– It’s on me,’ JJ says, then nods at the menu. ‘Pick soon. The guy’s wanting to come over.’

She glances at the till and he knows she made eye contact with the guy, because she averts her eyes as soon as she does so. She barely even glances at the menu before he says her order—a burger and a milkshake—and two minutes later, JJ orders for both of them. Kiara’s slumped against the wall, tapping her fingers while simultaneously looking like she’s half asleep, staring out of the window where they could see nothing but a singular street light, shining over JJ’s truck, a minivan, and a bike.

JJ studies her, even though he’s not trying to. She looks older and more tired, with lightened hair at the tips that must’ve grown out, but he’s surprised just how little hse’s really changed.

‘It’s rude to stare,’ she says, with no bite to it.

‘Not much else to look at,’ he says. ‘Nothing worth looking at, anyway.’

It makes her chuckle. ‘Still charming as ever.’

‘You bet.’

He waits to see if she’ll pick up the conversation, and she doesn’t. The waiter comes and gives them a cup of coffee each, but Kiara doesn’t touch hers. Jetlag, she explains – she needs to get through it naturally. 

‘Where did you come from?’ he asks. ‘You couldn’t have a jetlag from Washington, so that must’ve been a layover.’

‘Bahamas,’ she says.

‘Was it nice?’

‘Sure.’

‘How long were you there for?’

‘Do you always ask that many questions?’ 

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.’

A moment passes and her lip quivers—JJ feels like he said something wrong—and then she buries her head in her hands, before sighing loudly. ‘It’s my fault,’ she says, tucking some strands behind her ears. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just tired.’

‘That’s alright,’ he says, sipping on his coffee. ‘We don’t need to talk if you’re not wanting to.’

‘It’s not that. It’s probably better if we do, it’ll keep me up.’ She sighs and leans back, letting herself sink into the seat a little, making her crewneck sweater scrunch around her neck. ‘I just feel a little drunk and I’m scared of saying the wrong thing.’

‘Like what?’

‘Cheeky,’ she says, but smiles nonetheless. She yawns and rubs her eyes, sighing a little. ‘You still friends with John B?’

‘Close as ever.’

‘Are him and Sarah still a thing?’

John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron are, as always, a complicated thing – and JJ embarks on a story that spans years after the prom night, and as it turns out, years since Kiara has last had contact with anyone from the island, including her best friend at the time. He tells her of Sarah joining their adventures, about the search for gold and a long-lost crucifix that turned out to be a Heyward family heirloom, but makes it sound more adventurous than it was. Her eyes are slightly glazed and she hums and nods in all the right places, but she’s not really listening, or at least absorbing what he’s saying. He says at one point that John B’s dad came back from the dead and she just nods in response, so JJ doesn’t even bother pretending he’s telling the truth anymore.

It’s fun. He comes up with a story and Kiara’s asleep with her eyes open, and he doesn’t really mind.

The smell of their food wakes her up. The waiter’s a little clumsy as he puts it in front of them, and Kiara’s sinking her teeth into her burger before he’s even gone.

She moans. JJ tries not to picture her doing that in a different context.

‘Good?’

‘This is the best burger I’ve ever had,’ she says, moaning again. Her eyes widen and she covers her mouth. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.’

JJ waves her off. ‘Good food will do that to you.’

He eats his burger, too, but it’s really just average. He doesn’t say that – lets her believe it really is the best burger in the world, even as she leaves a very detailed review on Google. He watches her come back to life as the carbs start to hit and the glaze leaves her eyes. She moves more as she talks, asks more questions about Kildare and the things she’s missed, and JJ finds himself enjoying talking about the place he'd spent the majority of his life wishing he could get out of.

‘I’ve missed it,’ she says, sipping on the strawberry milkshake while JJ enjoys his chocolate one. ‘I never thought I’d say that.’

‘Kildare?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Eh. It grows on you, I suppose.’

‘Most places do,’ she says. ‘I was in the Bahamas for the last six months and it’s been a whirlwind. Europe, before that, and Asia was the first destination.’

JJ smiles. ‘So you’ve really travelled all of the world.’

Kiara smiles, too, and he wonders if she’s thinking the same thing – from the darkness on her cheeks, he supposes she is. ‘All of it.’

‘So, what’s it like?’

And she tells him everything. He watches as she bodies the stories, as the names of people she’s met come back to her, and glaze in her eyes goes away as the carbs hit in. She’s a good storyteller, turns out, and he’s a lot better at listening than she was not too long ago. He learns about the catacombs of Paris, of the high altitudes of Nepal, about the alpacas and the camels, about the way a dust storm can seep through the tiniest of cracks in fabrics. 

She keeps talking even when they get to the car, some half hour later, and he doesn’t stop her. Country music is back on the radio, but just as background noise this time, and JJ listens to the stories about her travels even when the dark gives way to the faintest orange, and a new day is being born. 

She’ll get tired eventually, and she’ll crash. He knows the gig. 

He slows the car not too far from where they’re to take the ferry back to the island, but still too far from any light to reach him. Kiara stops talking but doesn’t ask questions as he pulls up on the side of the road and does a 180 with his truck. From the back, he grabs a blanket and some candies he’d forgotten he put there, and asks her to follow him.

‘This isn’t the part where I kill you,’ he tells her.

‘Good,’ she retorts. ‘Was kind of enjoying myself.’

‘Well,’ he says, hopping out of the truck with her following suit, ‘you’re about to be enjoying yourself a whole lot more.’

He doesn’t apologise for the innuendo, and it makes her laugh. 

He sets the blanket on the back of his truck and even though it’s still kind of dirty, he hopes she doesn’t mind – she doesn’t give any sign that she does. He sits down, then, stretching his legs down the back of the truck, and she does the same, leaning against the back of the cabin.

‘What are we doing, JJ?’

He smiles at her. ‘What’s the last time you watching the sun rise in the middle of nowhere? In the States.’

She closes her mouth, because he knew she was going to say in the desert , and then she huffs. ‘I can’t remember.’

‘You’re about to, then.’

Kiara says nothing, but he can feel her relax. Her arm’s right up against his and they face east, watching the sky bask in shades of orange and gold and red, little by little. JJ doesn’t know when’s the last time he watched the sunrise, either, and it’s a much better view from here than the road. 

Birds wake up, too, chirping away. It’s too early for cars and JJ feels like the silence of the world is around them – nothing but them. 

He looks over, and Kiara’s eyes are trained on the sky. Her face is relaxed and he wonders what she’s thinking about, but doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to break the spell. He just watches her, again, but she doesn’t call him out on it this time. She’s beautiful in a way that the word was made for her – the golden hour makes her glow, tired as she is. 

JJ feels a sudden urge to kiss her forehead. He doesn’t, but the thought doesn’t go away.

The day brightens and the sun comes out soon enough. By that time, Kiara’s eyes have closed, and her head dropped to JJ’s shoulder. He knows they should get going, and he’s got some energy drinks to get through, but he doesn’t feel tired. He feels alive .

Truth is, that night never left his mind. She was in the back of it, hiding, waiting. The connection and the familiarity he felt that night came rushing back, and it feels like it’s not basically a stranger that’s falling asleep on his shoulder, that he’s watching the sun rise with, that he’s driven for hours to pick up. 

Not a stranger. Just Kiara.

He taps her on the shoulder, gently, and tells her that they need to get going when she wakes up. JJ walks her to the car, fastens the belt, and her eyes are only half open. He turns on the heating and switches to a local radio station that plays calmer music in the mornings as they get back on the road. Whenever he glances over, Kiara’s eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. He doesn’t even wake her up when they get on the ferry, nor does he leave the car, either. 

Driving around Kildare feels familiar in the mornings, so JJ has no issue with it, even on Figure Eight. He finds her house easily enough, and pulls up without waking her. He thinks about getting Mike to come get her, but something about that feels like he’s losing out on something. On time with her, maybe.

What happens when he gets back into his truck and drives away? Is it going to be another prom night, where they never speak again, not for years, anyway?

The thought of that makes his chest ache. 

JJ leaves the truck and grabs the suitcases from the back. He sets them out on the porch, wondering if Mike and Anna are even up. He gets back to the truck and opens the passenger door, but Kiara still doesn’t wake.

He calls her name. Nothing. He gives her a gentle nudge, and that gets a movement out of her, but not enough. 

‘Kiara,’ he says. ‘You’re home.’

Her eyes open and they’re focused on him and only him for a full second, and JJ feels bare. She notices the house, then, and he watches as she becomes nervous again. 

‘It’s going to be okay,’ he tells her. ‘I don’t know what happened between you and your parents, but you’re good. They’ve missed you.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Kiara.’

She looks back at him.

JJ gives her another nudge. ‘You’re going to charm them, no matter what.’

It makes her smile, and JJ feels like a winner again. 

She thanks him for driving her, for picking her up, even though it was her dad who asked him to – or her dad that JJ offered to do so. She’s stalling, he can tell, but he lets her. Helps her get out of the truck. Walks up with her to the stairs, with her arm around hers, just like that night – the only thing she’s got in her hands is the roses, and he wishes he was the one getting them for her.

Next time, he thinks. But there’s no guarantee of that.

As they stand in front of her door, Kiara doesn’t ring the bell. Her hand tightens the hold on JJ’s arm and he feels her shaking, ever so slightly. She chalks it up to sleeplessness—the sun is now well over the horizon—but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

‘Do you want me to come in with you?’

She frowns. ‘Do you know my parents that well?’

‘Not really,’ he admits, ‘but if having someone there makes it easier for you…’

Kiara’s face breaks out into a tired smile and she gives his arm a squeeze. He watches her as she leans forward and plants a kiss on his cheek – a firm one, purposeful, and JJ feels his whole body set ablaze.

‘You’ve already done more than enough,’ she says. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s nothing,’ he says, and his voice hitches.

‘It’s not nothing. I don’t even know how to thank you properly.’

‘It’s fine. Your dad’s already given me money for it.’

She tilts her head. ‘I’m sure he didn’t include you treating me to a burger and a really pretty sunrise in that.’

‘No,’ JJ chuckles, ‘but I wanted to. That’s on me.’

‘JJ.’ Kiara calls his name again and squeezes his arm one more time, until he’s finally looking at her. ‘I don’t even know how to thank you properly.’

And in a moment of opportunity, exhaustion, and just enough courage, JJ says: ‘Go for dinner with me.’

‘Dinner,’ she repeats.

‘Dinner.’

‘Hm. That doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ JJ feels his shoulder relax—when did they even tense?—and he gives her a little nudge. ‘You ready to see your family again?’

He offers to ring the bell on her behalf and she takes it. They end up standing there, hand in arm, until there’s rushed footsteps coming from the inside and it’s Mike that opens the door, practically engulfing Kiara into a hug. 

JJ sees that as his cue. He waves at the two and Mike thanks him again, but JJ doesn’t stay long enough to hear any more offers of gratitude – he already got the one he wanted. Back in his truck, his Baby, he scrolls on his phone to see Kiara has already requested to follow him on Instagram. He accepts and follows back and within minutes, there’s a text from her:

looking forward to that dinner x

And just like that, JJ's life has become thrilling again.

[bobfloydsbabe]

LINGER | rhett abbott x oc | chapter 1

one: hey cowboy

SUMMARY: Rhett Abbott is stuck. He rides bulls, works on his family’s ranch, and probably drinks more than what’s good for him. 

Lou Kinney is aimless. She never stays in one place for long, driving from state to state, and picking up odd jobs along the way.

So when she shows up in Wabang, Rhett’s life tumbles into free fall and Lou’s not sure she trusts herself to catch him. But maybe these two lost souls find exactly what they didn’t know they were looking for: each other.

masterlist | next chapter

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, horses/ranching/bull riding inaccuracies, i don't understand american culture but i try.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

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He’s sitting in his truck in the parking lot of the general store the first time he sees her.

She’s wearing jeans, sensible boots, and a denim jacket. Her dark hair is in a soft braid that rests against her back. He watches her open the door to the cab of her truck. She whistles once and a black and white dog effortlessly jumps in, crawling across the bench seat and lies down.

Rhett doesn’t recognize her, figures she’s passing through town like so many before her. No one stays in Wabang unless they were born here, and this girl definitely wasn’t.

So, safe to say, Rhett’s a little surprised when he sees her nursing a beer at the Handsome Gambler later in the week. Even more so when he stops by the diner for coffee and lunch a week after that, and sees her laughing with Patty, who owns the place.

She offers him a small acknowledging nod when she passes him on her way out, her dog trailing behind her happily. Patty rarely allows dogs in her diner.

A month passes before he learns her name. He’s walking into the feed store when he hears Old Man Arthur call her Louisa. She corrects him and says it’s Lou.

She’s walking away, her dog once again following closely behind, when Rhett comes up to the counter to pick up their order.

Lou suits her, he decides.

A few days later, Amy comes skipping into the house, waving a piece of paper in the air with a bright smile on her face. Her friend from school is having a birthday party at Oak Creek Ranch, and Amy’s one of the select few invited.

Oak Creek went up for sale when Rhett was seventeen, and the Taylors bought it about a year later. A local family who traded their jobs as a nurse and a veterinarian for ranch living. They opened an equine sanctuary and rehabilitation center that’s become popular with people from across the state.

He didn’t know you could host a kid’s birthday party there, but as his truck winds down the dirt path to the Oak Creek driveway, he sees a banner announcing Sydney’s 9th birthday.

He’s late to pick Amy up. Perry was supposed to, but he was too drunk to drive. Rhett tries not to be mad at his brother, but it’s hard not to be when he’s neglecting his daughter.

He passes endless pastures and folds with grazing horses. A large barn comes into view, along with an even larger stable building. He knew the Taylors had renovated the place when they bought it, but it’s nearly unrecognizable to him now. He remembers having his first beer on the front steps of the then abandoned house when he was fourteen.

Seems like a lifetime ago now.

He pulls up next to a line of trucks in various stages of disrepair, but most pickups look worse for wear around here. Rhett looks at the house and spots Mrs. Taylor through a window. He can’t remember her name, but he knows she has two boys who are a few years older than Amy.

He lifts a couple of fingers in an acknowledging gesture, and even though the sun is high in the sky, he sees her smile as she waves back. The Taylors are good people.

He looks around, and a few feet away, at the end of a downtrodden path, is a metal round pen where he spots the back of his niece’s head.

Rhett gets out of his truck and makes the short trek down to where Amy stands on the fence to see over it. As he gets closer, he sees Louisa stand on the inside of the pen, her back turned to a black horse trotting wildly behind her.

She doesn’t flinch when it whinnies. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, coming up next to his niece to watch the scene before him.

“Uncle Rhett,” she exclaims, giving him a hug as best as she can without falling off the fence. “Look!”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips at her enthusiasm before he turns his attention back to Louisa, and the horse that has now slowed down to a walk. Rhett sees the fear in its dark eyes, but there’s a level of curiosity, too.

Louisa still doesn’t move, but casts her eyes upward, meeting his for a brief second. She smiles at him, and his insides feel funny.

The horse takes tentative steps towards Louisa, and all the muscles in Rhett’s body tense, ready to step in if something should happen.

But nothing does. The horse walks towards the center of the pen, and finally, after what feels like minutes but was probably only a few seconds, it stands at Louisa’s side and nudges her arm with its muzzle.

Amy cheers quietly as to not disturb the moment in front of them.

A grin splits Louisa’s face in two, and Rhett watches her dig into her pocket for a treat that she offers to the horse. The wind carries the sound of her soft praises as the horse chews the treat and lets Lou run her hands over its muscular body.

“That was incredible, Miss Kinney,” Amy says as the woman approaches the fence, horse trailing calmly behind her.

“Lou,” she corrects. “Storm’s a good boy,” she replies, casting a look at the black stallion behind her. “He just needs someone to give him a chance to be good.”

“Sorry, I’m late,” Rhett says before Amy can say something else.

“It’s no problem,” she says, and he can tell she genuinely means it. “Sydney only got picked up five minutes before you got here.”

“Thank you,” he saying, nodding at her slightly before turning his attention to his niece. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Amy agrees and jumps off the fence, landing on the ground with a thud. Rhett offers a small wave goodbye to Lou, who’s watching him and Amy as they walk back to his truck.

“Bye, miss Kinney!” Amy shouts and waves at the woman who offers an enthusiastic wave back. Amy closes the truck door, and the world goes quiet.

He waits for her to put her seatbelt on and then makes his way back down the drive, the same way he came. “Did you have a nice time?”

“The best,” she says excitedly, launching into a long talk about everything that happened at the birthday party. She briefly mentions her other friends, the cake, and the presents, but most of her endless chatter is about Lou.

“That thing she did when you got there is called join up, and it’s so cool. She just turned around a let Storm do whatever he wanted until he trusted her enough to come. It was awesome!”

He chuckles as he opens the front door to the house, letting Amy duck under his arm to go inside first.

His Ma’s in the kitchen, placing plates on the dining table, but it’s only set for four. Perry is probably sleeping off his bender upstairs, the whole room reeking of alcohol and sweat.

Rhett frowns at the thought and tries to push the brewing rage down. He’s not above day drinking, has done it many times, but he would never do it over taking care of his kid.

It’s a realization that has crept up on him in the months since Rebecca disappeared and Perry changed into someone barely recognizable. He’s putting his misery above his daughter and there’s no one Rhett wants to protect more than his niece.

He kisses his mom’s cheek in greeting and goes upstairs to clean up before dinner, the sound of Amy talking about Lou fading with each step he takes. There’s something about her innocence that tugs at Rhett’s heart and makes the faintest smile spread across his face.

A couple of days later, Rhett rests his head against the rim of his beer bottle, trying not to move his bad shoulder too much. It’s been bothering him for a while, but the bull got the better of him tonight and he took a bad fall. 

The slide of glass along the bar top makes him lift his head. In front of him is a shot of tequila that he downs with a nod towards Jimmy, who’s been a bartender at the Handsome Gambler since before he was born.

Homegrown cowboy almost lost the rodeo tonight. He’s lucky he didn’t.

“It’s Rhett, right?” A soft voice says as a warm body sinks down on the seat next to him.

He hums in agreement, turning his head slightly to face her. He recognizes her voice immediately. It’s been ringing in his ears since he first heard it a few days earlier.

“Amy hasn’t shut up about you since her visit,” he says. It sounds harsh even to his own ears, and he could probably have found a better way to say it, but she seems unfazed.

He wants to ask her name, even though he already knows it. Just to hear her say it.

She smiles, and he could be imagining it, but it looks like her cheeks flush pink. The odd lighting in the bar makes it hard to tell.

She looks down at her hands, then meets his gaze. “She’s interested in the work,” she says finally. “I’m sure she’d talk about anyone who did it.”

Rhett’s not so sure, and he almost says as much.

She orders a beer and wraps her small hands around the glass, immediately picking at the label with her long fingers.

Rhett doesn’t know what to say as the silence stretches between them. There’s a million questions he wants to ask, but all he does is watch, and by the time he’s built up the courage to say something, Lou beats him to it.

“Heard you had a good ride tonight.”

A snort escapes him. “You heard wrong,” he says, sipping from his bottle. He grimaces as the stale beer hits his tongue.

“But you’re moving up, right?”

He tilts his head at her, looking at the paper graveyard surrounding the beer bottle still in her grasp. “Yeah.”

“Then it’s a good ride,” she decides and raises the bottle to her lips, taking a long sip. His eyes trace the lines of her throat. He likes the way her hair graces her shoulders, and he wonders if it feels as soft as it looks.

“You think so?”

She nods, brushing hair behind her ears. “I know so.”

He’d forgotten all about his sore shoulder until he shrugs and a jab of pain courses through it. He half-heartedly suppresses a groan at the strain, but the woman beside him catches it.

“You should take it easy,” she says, eyes flicking from his face to the hand he’s placed on his shoulder as if that would soothe the ache. “Joe said you took a tumble.”

He supposes tumble is one way to describe being thrown off a bucking bull after barely lasting eight seconds.

His brows knit together. “Joe?” There are about seventeen people named Joe in this godforsaken town.

“Taylor,” she clarifies.

“Your boss.”

“My boss,” she agrees. 

Silence falls between them again, but Rhett feels less awkward this time. He drums his fingers on the wooden counter and watches Lou sneak a glance down the line of the bar, only to wipe the tattered scraps of the paper label onto the floor.

He raises a brow at her.

She puts a finger against her lips to shush him as Jimmy comes back down towards them.

“Can I close out my tab?”

Rhett tips his hat down a little to hide the grin he’s sporting, but his success seems doubtful as his body shakes with a quiet chuckle.

He feels, rather than sees, Lou jump off the barstool next to him. Her hand skims along his back as she passes, a touch so light he can’t tell if it was on purpose or not.

A shiver runs down his spine as her touch leaves him. He waits until she’s gone and the door clicks shut to push his hat back up and ask Jimmy to close out his own tab.

He’s going to call it a night. Sitting alone at the bar doesn’t seem as appealing as his bed right now, but he doesn’t understand why.

After a ride, he would normally go looking for some woman to screw hard and fast, just to let off some steam, but not tonight. Tonight he’s just tired and sore and his ego is a little bruised because some new kid placed ahead of him.

He steps outside the bar and feels the cold Wyoming air hit his face.

“You come here often?”

Rhett jumps a good few feet in the air as the sound of laughter fills the quiet outside the bar. His heart races furiously in his chest, watching as Lou clutches her stomach, wheezing for air.

“Scaredy-cat,” she comments through uneven breaths as she regains her composure.

He looks over his shoulder, contemplating going back inside for another drink, just to settle the nerves Lou sparked to life. He can still hear the rushing of his pulse in his ears.

When he looks back at her, she’s already walking across the street to a faded yellow truck that has definitely seen better days. His feet carry him towards her before his head can register the decision to do so.

She reaches out to open her the driver’s side door, but Rhett’s arms are longer, so he yanks it open before she can. She startles, spinning around to face him.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me!”

He pulls open the truck door more with a grin threatening at the corners of his mouth.

“Not so funny when it’s you, huh?”

She huffs out a laugh as the tension leaves her shoulders and she hangs her head for a moment, letting it rest on his chest. When she lifts it again, he catches a whiff of her shampoo. She smells like summer.

She meets his eye, mischief and laughter radiating off her. There’s freedom in her eyes, making something in his stomach twist.

She climbs into the cab of her truck and lets Rhett close the door for her. She keeps her eyes on him as he takes a few steps back and the engine stirs to life at the turn of her key.

“Say hello to Amy for me,” she instructs him, and throws the old rust bucket in drive.

He watches her truck disappear down the main road until the taillights are no longer visible.

He can’t read her, not that it’s his strongest suit to begin with, but for someone who keeps to herself, she seems to be making an impression on the residents of Wabang.

He shakes his head, trying to will the hot feeling in chest to go away. As he reaches his own truck, he wants to blame the alcohol, but some part of him knows that’s far from the truth.

A/N: I can't believe it's finally here. I've been so excited to share this story with you, but I'm also nervous because this is so different for me, both in terms of style and tone. Comments and reblogs make the world go around. I hope you enjoy! (does this mean I have to watch the show now???)

TAGLIST: @wkndwlff, @joaquinwhorres, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @chickensarentcheap, @bradshawsbitch, @dhwanishah09, @lt-bradshaw, @phoenixhalliwell, @chicomonks, @cherrycola27, @mikaymeee, @callsign-cacti, @laracrofted, @thedroneranger, @yanna-banana, @rhettabbotts

[prettygirlsincorporated]

your jokes were terrible, you know that right?

fandom: criminal minds

paring: jj x reader

warnings: mentions of rape, typical criminal minds violence. uh a little angst but it gets better.

w/c: 1k+

A/N: here it is! i’m so so tired so eat up! it was originally gonna get so angsty, but it’s all around just fluff! - 🧸

You really didn't understand how you'd gotten your job as a technical assistant, you started off as an intern for the BAU but Penelope decided to take you under her wing, showing you everything she knew. You picked it up easily, knowing a little more about certain areas than her.

Which is how you ended up here, being the technical assistant. You'd go on cases with the team, working with Penelope to figure it out as she stayed in her bat cave. You were an incredible asset to the team, and they all loved you.

They were your family, your friends. Of course they all had their respective cliques, some closer to others, which is how you and JJ were. From the start you've felt a spark with the blonde, she slowly became your best friend. Someone you'd seek out in a crowd full of people, someone you'd call when anything went wrong, someone who was always there for you.

That's why it didn't strike you as odd when she started doing smaller things for you, getting you coffee, getting you snacks, always sitting near you. It was the small things that she'd do that would brighten your day. Everything she would do you saw as a friendly gesture, emily and derek had done the same thing to you.

Derek would often walk up with your favorite order and a small “hey mama” or “hey pretty girl” and so when JJ started acting like this it never struck you as odd, until she started every morning with a pickup line. Everyday without fail there'd be a new one, as soon as you'd walk in the bullpen.

It started off with innocent ones for the first few weeks, and it progressively got more sexual. You were confused at first, not knowing how to handle the flip your stomach would do when you heard her voice ring through the bullpen when you stepped in, or how your brain would short circuit when it was a hard case and she'd hold your hand anytime she could. You convinced yourself it was just her being friendly, but you couldn't deny the overwhelming feeling of joy every morning you'd hear her say her usual line.

As soon as you rode up the elevator, entering the office you heard her clear her throat and you tried to bite back a smile. “If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together.” she said it with such a cocky, shit eating grin that you couldn't help but stifle a laugh as Derek chuckled walking over to you with a coffee. “Did you know that statistically more words in the alphabet start with the letter S than any other letter?” Spencer said as he spun around in his swivel chair, stopping when Derek flicked him on the head. “Ow!” Spencer whined pushing his chair off with his feet, away from Derek. “What was that for?” He pouted, you walked over giving him a kiss where Derek had flicked him. “There, all better spence.” everyone chuckled as you sat down at your desk, everyone expect a certain blond.

You'd been too busy setting your stuff down to notice jj’s change in demeanor when you had innocently placed a kiss to Spencer's head, a form of showing him compassion, but Jennifer didn't seem to think that. You only noticed the falter in her smile when you went to ask her if she wanted more coffee, seeming as she was nursing a near empty mug. You saw the tension she'd been producing, the clinch in her jaw as she declined your offer, not looking you in the eyes. Maybe she was jealous? No, she couldn't be. This was just meaningless flirting, right? Thats what you told yourself as you sat back down, only to be interrupted by hotch coming out of his office looking over all of you.

“We have a case. No go bag needed, it's local.” you all groaned as you walked to the briefing room, sitting in your respective spots. “The unsub is killing women around the DC area. He breaks into womens homes, rapes them and then kills them with an ice pick.” Hotch spoke explaining the case as he flipped the slide show to show what we were up against. “Did you know, in 1998 Danny Paul Bible confessed to killing a string of women with an ice pick after raping them? Could it be a copycat?” Everyone turned their attention to Reid as he talked about the killing, before hotch spoke up. “We don't know yet, y/n and jj, go to the medical examiner, Emily, Derek and Spencer go to the crime scene. Me and Rossi will speak to the families.” you all nodded as you headed out to an SUV getting in the passenger seat as jj opted to drive.

Car rides with her were usually fun, you'd flirt as you talked about anything and everything, but today was different. She kept her gaze fixated on the road as she gripped the wheel, not speaking. You were going to break the awkward silence until Peneolpe called you both, filling you in on information.

“Hey sweet cheeks, got that sexy brain of yours workin?” you chuckled as you noticed jjs grip on the wheel got tighter, as you responded. “Always for you, my dear!” giggles ripped from her as she exchanged information, bidding you a farewell as you and Jennifer kept driving.

“jj, what’s wrong?” you could tell something was off but she didn’t want to tell you, just absentmindedly shaking her head as you arrived at the M.E’s office, getting out of the car, walking next to each other.

you talked to the M.E and headed to the precinct, driving in yet again silence. “Jennifer, what’s wrong?” she didn’t like when you used her full name, she knew you knew something was wrong, so why wouldn’t she tell you? she glanced over at you, seeing your pleading eyes as you searched for any sign of what had happened to make her so pissed off. “Jennifer! I'm talking to you, please, can you tell me? I care about you!” she just shook her head yet again, speeding up as she drove to the police department.

she avoided you all day, never once acknowledging you unless she had too. it was weird, different, you missed her witty comments, the winks she’d throw your way. you missed when she’d hold your hand if you were anxious. Why did you miss it? it wasn’t fair for her to just take it away.. but i guess she didn’t owe you anything..

you wrapped up the case and headed home, you opted to drive with derek instead this time. Apparently everyone notices jjs personality shift, because as you were riding home Derek decided to ask you about it. “hey mama, why’s your blonde so upset? you guys get in a fight or something?” you simply shook your head and turned the other way, facing out the window as a silent sign to not ask anymore questions.

the next day you’d walk in, you’d hope for a usual pickup line, but you just saw her stare blankly at you and go back to her paperwork. if you said it didn’t hurt, you’d be lying. Have you done something? had you made her uncomfortable? Did you cross a line? all these thoughts ran through your brain as you sat down at your desk, avoiding the gazes that seemed to be on you and jj.

of course there was no case today, you’d had to be stuck with her in a small space. you tried to work on your paperwork, but all the thoughts of jj were running through your brain. would this damage your relationship forever? had you fucked this up? you really fucking wished she’d tell you what was going on so you didn’t keep guessing, wondering what you possibly could have done to fuck this up. deep in thought, a voice broke you out of your trance. “y/n, will you come see me in the briefing room?” you noticed the familiar voice without even looking, jennifer. Was she finally going to tell you what happened? maybe tell you that she didn’t want to be friends with you ever again?

you silently followed her up, closing the door behind you as she sat down on the table, looking at you. “look. y/n, i like you. i have, all my flirty comments, hand holding, everything, it was me silently telling you I liked you. When you flirt with someone else, I can't handle it. It was a joke at first, a thing to pass time, but eventually I realized how I felt. when you talk to penelope like that, god, i can’t handle it. i want you to be mine, and only mine.” you stood in front of her jaw probably on the floor as you stared into her piercing blue eyes who tried to avoid your gaze. you giggled as you walked over to her, putting your arms around her waist as you slightly tugged her so she was standing. she leaned in for a kiss, pulling away as you stifled a laugh. “what’s so funny?” she said with a smirk. “your jokes were terrible, you know that right?” she smiled, lightly slapping you on the arm as she nodded. “that was the point! they’re cheesy pickup lines for a reason!” she pulled you closer to her, holding you there for a moment just relishing in the fact that you were finally hers.

[luccatodd]

Empty Reflections - Creepypasta

Diana wasn’t a very peculiar girl; in fact, she always took care of her younger siblings when her mother and father were away. She loved telling stories and drawing, but the problems at home often extinguished her artistic spirit.

Tired of that environment, she spent a long time looking for a place to move. Once she finished university, she decided she no longer wanted to live there for her own well-being. She had always done well in university; she didn’t need to put in too much effort, and that gave her some peace of mind. Her laid-back attitude attracted many people to her life, including her best friends, Max and Grace.

They were good friends, but she got along especially well with Grace. Grace was fun and outgoing, always standing out in teams, even if she sometimes ended up with bad grades. She was very optimistic, though.

Thanks to her closeness with Grace, Diana had the confidence and courage to share many of her problems with her. They always talked after school, either at a café or on the bleachers during practice.

“Diana?” Grace asked.

Diana rubbed her eyes and leaned away from her computer; she had spent too much time playing games.

“Yes, what is it, Grace?”

“Were you sleeping? Did I wake you up?” “No, not at all, I was playing.”

“Oh, it’s just that your voice sounds tired. Are you going to sleep soon?” “I don’t think so. I want to eat something first. But why did you call? I thought your line wasn’t paid.” “I asked my dad to pay for it this week. Actually, I’m calling you because I’m at a family party, and an offer came up that you can’t refuse.”

“What kind of offer?” “Well, my uncle Oscar is moving to Toronto, and he’s renting out his two houses: the one in San Antonio and the one in Monterreal, in Arteaga.”

“Incredible, he has two houses?” “Yes, but the thing is, since I told my aunt that I wanted to move out, she talked to my uncle, and he decided not to charge me rent if I moved into the house in Arteaga. All I have to do is live there and clean it; it hasn’t been inhabited in six years.”

“Wow! That’s wonderful. So, it’s about an hour away, right?” “Yeah, but… Diana, remember how you told me you wanted to leave your house? Honestly, I don’t like being alone, and I’m too scared to go on my own. I’m asking you to come with me. Let’s be roommates. My uncle wouldn’t charge us rent, and until we find jobs, we wouldn’t have to worry about utility bills either. I’d love for you to come with me.”

Diana was stunned. It was the opportunity she had been waiting for, even if it caught her by surprise. She really wanted to leave her house.

“Besides, we’re friends. Who better to live with than someone you already know?” Grace added.

From downstairs, Diana could hear her parents arguing with her younger brother. During the call, she asked for some time to think about the decision, but they agreed she couldn’t take more than a week to respond.

Finally, she accepted.

But not everything could be perfect. The house wasn’t very big. It was small, and the bedrooms could barely fit furniture without everything feeling cramped.

“It’s so filthy in here!” Diana exclaimed, instantly regretting her decision to live there.

The house was completely neglected. Papers and dirt covered the floor; the furniture was wrapped in protective plastic but coated with dust and grease. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and when Grace turned on the kitchen faucet, brown water gushed out. Her hopes wavered.

They would probably find rats in the hallways, especially at night. And the smell of the house was just dust and dampness.

Diana didn’t want to go back to her parents, so she promised herself to try. The stack of job applications in her backpack, which she planned to drop off the next day, gave her strength.

“Well, we made a deal. We just have to clean and get rid of the junk. The trash pickup is tomorrow at 7 a.m.”

Diana took a few steps and noticed a wall in the living room near the kitchen that was completely covered in mirrors. Silver, gold, wood—there were all kinds of frames and sizes. Unlike the rest of the house, the mirrors were spotless. There wasn’t a trace of dust or wear.

The beauty of a silver-framed mirror caught her attention. She picked it up and found no dirt behind the frame, on the mirror, or on the wall. As she looked at herself in the mirror, a strange feeling washed over her. Something wasn’t right.

The rest of the first day, full of regrets and mixed emotions, ended with a conversation between Diana and Grace.

“Grace, I don’t understand. Why is the whole house so rundown, but the only thing that seems well-maintained are those mirrors?” “My uncle likes to collect mirrors and frames of all kinds. He used to collect clocks, but he took them to his current house. Now his hobby is mirrors. I don’t know why he left them here, but if you want, I can call him tomorrow to ask. Just in case he doesn’t want us to move them or we need to be careful with them,” Grace replied.

Three days later, Grace called her uncle. They still hadn’t managed to settle into the house. They didn’t have mattresses or beds, and to avoid rats at night, they barricaded the door with wooden planks.

Everything happened too quickly, and the little money they had, intended for opportunities and food, was spent on bleach and cleaning supplies from a store three blocks away.

They hadn’t even unpacked their belongings. No matter how much they mopped, they had to scrub the floor with brushes. But nothing seemed to improve. Diana and Grace couldn’t adjust.

When they tried to remove the peeling wallpaper, they decided to call the uncle to ask for permission to take down the mirrors. Even at night, they remained perfectly shiny. Diana felt a chill every time she passed the living room and saw her reflection in them.

“Grace, I’m lending you the house. Please don’t move those things in the living room,” her uncle said over speakerphone. “You mean the mirrors?” Grace asked. “Yes, and I don’t recommend you touch them. I bought those mirrors during my travels, and I don’t want them scratched or damaged. They were all used in various ceremonies to attract good luck.”

Grace’s uncle had never been a believer, but his wife encouraged him to own items for good fortune—mirrors, crystals.

Diana and Grace exchanged glances.

That night, after another day without finding work, Diana was angry. She wondered if her pride was worth it, if she should return to her family.

When she entered her room, her eyes widened in surprise: all her things were scattered on the floor. Her makeup was smashed, and her wallet was empty and tossed around the room. She called Grace, thinking someone had broken into the house, but the wooden barricade they used to reinforce the door was still in place. No one had forced entry.

The house was on a dangerous street, but the incident was unexplainable. They decided not to dwell on it and went to bed after tidying up.

That same night, a sound woke Diana.

It was a creaking, followed by small thuds that sounded like wet glass tapping. One after another, in different tones.

Grace woke up too.

“Just go back to sleep… it’s probably the dishes. I didn’t wash them last night, and remember, they drip,” Grace said, trying to smile nervously. “Really, I don’t think anyone broke in yesterday.”

Diana glared at her. The next morning, she checked the dishes to see if the sound had come from there, but it hadn’t. She grew more worried when she noticed two of the mirrors in the living room were tilted. Something wasn’t right.

Days passed, and things began to get stranger.

The clothes they folded would end up on the floor within hours. If they left for a few minutes, they would return to find everything disorganized. The sounds of glass continued every night, but Diana decided to ignore her growing concern. “We probably still have rats,” she thought.

Eventually, they stopped talking about it and got used to cleaning everything up whenever they returned.

The problem with getting used to something is that it becomes hard to see its true nature.

A month later, Diana still hadn’t found a job. Both girls had started neglecting themselves. They stopped folding their clothes and opted to wear dirty ones instead. If they were always going to be scattered around, what was the point of folding them?

The dishes remained dirty and piled up, and the nightly sounds had become part of their routine.

They even started forgetting to eat or bathe for days. In front of the mirrors, their reflections remained impeccable, as if something about them didn’t quite fit with reality.

Days passed without them leaving the house. Surrounded by trash and disorder, neither of them seemed to notice.

Finally, Grace’s uncle, worried about the lack of news, decided to visit them.

When he opened the door, he found two girls in a deplorable state.

“Hi, Uncle! How are you? Come in!” Grace said, smiling but keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.

Her uncle was taken aback. He found them disheveled, with an unpleasant odor, surrounded by wrappers and trash on the floor.

What struck him most was the mirror wall: almost all the mirrors were out of place. Some were on the couches, others on the table or leaning against the windows. Diana was holding a silver one, her gaze downcast. She barely moved and seemed to breathe without any real life in her.

Her uncle had to contain his anger at the state of the house and his fortune mirrors.

“...Forgive me, I had no idea the house was in such poor condition. This weekend I’ll send someone to clean it. I can’t let you keep living like this,” her uncle said, excusing himself.

Because at that moment, that was all he could do. He had put them in this situation, and he was responsible.

“No, Uncle. We’re fine like this,” Grace replied.

Grace’s uncle left and spent over thirty minutes trying to find the right cleaning service. He searched through many contacts until an old colleague recommended a woman.

“Tomorrow at 8 a.m., the cleaner will arrive. If you don’t let her work, you’ll have to leave the house. You can’t keep living this way,” her uncle said firmly.

“All right, Uncle! We don’t want to leave!” Grace replied.

How could they possibly want to continue living like this?

The next morning, at exactly 8 a.m., there was a knock on the door.

It was a young woman with curly brown hair, hazel eyes, and fair skin. She wore denim pants, beige boots, and a button-up shirt of the same color. She had a kind smile, and seeing her through the window brought Grace and Diana back to reality for a moment.

“Good morning, I’m here to clean.”

Diana opened the door.

“Oh, yes. Our uncle told us about you,” Grace said with a kind smile.

“Your uncle?”

The woman entered and set her bags on the floor. But neither Grace nor Diana noticed something unsettling: the mirrors in the living room were perfectly aligned on the floor, all pointing directly at the three of them.

Hours later, at six in the evening…

Grace’s uncle returned to the house and found chaos. Grace was crying, the smell of burning filled the air, and shards of glass littered the floor.

“Where are my mirrors?” her uncle shouted. “I don’t know, Uncle! We were robbed! And I can’t find Diana!”

“What? What do you mean you were robbed?”

“There was a young woman… she had curly hair. I can’t remember more… She took everything and then disappeared! The neighbors saw her go in, but no one saw her leave. And no one saw Diana either!”

Her uncle went pale.

“What woman are you talking about? The cleaner isn’t coming until tomorrow, Grace! She’s an older woman, not some young girl!”

The End.

“And… why did the uncle care more about the mirrors than the girls?” “Oh, Mommy, do I have uncles?”

I stood up to finish tying his shoelaces.

“Because sometimes people get attached to objects more than to others, as if those things could really hold any value,” I said with a smile to Matt.

“This time I really wanted to be a boy, not a girl, Mommy.”

“I’ll find one for you soon. For now, this is the best body I could find.”

Matt was finally settled in a healthy body this month—the body that had once belonged to Diana.

Though I’ll admit, I would’ve liked to have a girl, too.

●This is the story of my oc character Coyotl. Let me clarify, all of their stories are based on real cases.

[jackass-jones]

Dreamt a very specific scene last night. There was this hot as hell bear chef on this fancy cruise ship and he was kinda short and had all these tattoos and a cute apron and he was very nice and friendly but kinda a loner and then this tall Russian knight lady with majestic red hair came in with one of her goons ready to attack but the chef was just a regular guy doing his job and he offered them food and was just silly and goofy and won them over and he and the knight lady hit it off really well and just kinda spent the rest of the story together sneaking off like kids on this fancy ship getting to know each other getting into antics and they end up talking about flirting and the knight is like “oh yeah I can flirt really good I can flirt so hard you’ll come in your pants” and the chef was like lol okay lemme see it and the knight takes a deep breath and as a preface launches into a really moving monologue about their first encounter the things she noticed about the chef and his environment and how she could tell he was a very caring and talented person and she didn’t even seem aware of it but it revealed that despite being so combat brained and coming off as cold and socially isolated, she was actually really observant of people, much more than the chef, and had a big heart. And the chef was just sitting there like holy shit. And then the knight was like “okay now it’s time for me to flirt bwahahaha 😈” and proceeded to use the lamest fucking pickup lines in the book in a dorky ass voice and she really genuinely thought she was doing something and the chef just broke out of the immersion completely trying so hard not to laugh his ass off and the knight was like so confident like “well how about it? Am I good or what” and chef is just like “mmmhhhmmm yeahh that was great”

[lifesupreme-if]

hi tamber!

i was wondering if you could talk about dylan's tattoos, if that's not a huge spoiler. what are some tattoos she has/when did she get her first one/do any of them have special significance to her? (also does she get annoyed at people asking her about them. i know a lot of people with many tattoos do)

(also sorry if you've answered this already!! hope u have a good day :))

hi arlo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

dylan waited until she was 18 to get tattoos, because despite all of the other illegal activities she was doing at the time, she thought it "wasn't legal to get one before then"! they're not a spoiler, and they're all based within three categories:

• coping with death (now with a fun pop twist!)

• esoterica and good luck charms to combat her bad luck (bastardized and made cute!)

• she was an 18 year old who wanted some tattoos and didn't think that she would have to live to deal with the consequences of still having such dumb tattoos.

DISCLAIMER: some other people have designed tattoos for dylan before, too, and i love those so much :D these are just the tattoo designs i had imagined at first.

a few from each category;

1st category:

1. "don't fear the reaper" tattoos, one on her arm w/ a scythe taking root. absolutely has never heard the song, saw the title and immediately ran with it. a reference to the (don't fear) the reaper mission in cyberpunk 2077 (which is the ending my file for dylan picks also so :B)

2. her sister's initials tattooed on her arm. she got it done while synth-coked up at her academy graduation; it was the first time she'd seen her sister in years, and the last time she's seen her in years. got her autograph on her arm and tattooed it after.

3. her really mean highschool nickname "killshot" is on her knuckles. it sounds really dumb. it is. came from her first round of loyalty testing @ the academy and was dubbed as such for a short period of time after Not Hesitating to zero her girlfriend at the time.

4. skellyhands on the back of her neck 2 indicate death having a grip on her or something dramatic.

2nd category:

1. her first three-card tarot reading after quitting her job, tattooed on the inside of her arm. apparently, she liked her results.

2. a rabbit with a dotted line wrapped around its foot to indicate cutting, the number 13 plastered around a few places, mostly notably makes use of the hanged man and death as the tarot she associates w/ herself.

3. the evil eye is peppered around. an awful, bastardized version of it resides on the back of her hands; big, soppy anime eyes. yes, she will insist that it is still the evil eye.

4. pagan protection symbols and all sorts of good luck charms.

3rd category:

1. snake wrapped around a sword going down her throat; just thought it would be Really Cool and also be an interesting pickup line.

2. a giant bow is tattooed in between her tiddies; once again makes for a pretty good pickup line

3. the tattoos on her thighs are from a "trip" in which she watched a specific old vid where the main characters find themselves to not be in kansas anymore. it's like. their Evil versions. toto is eating people like a zombie. the tinman is crying. (yes, she does want a cover up.)

none of dylan's tattoos have been acquired in the way we get them in 2022. she opts for the 2077 method of having a ripperdoc stab a numbing serum into your arm and tattoo the design on in an automatic machine. if she had to get a tattoo traditionally, she simply would not.

a lot of the symbols she uses are absolutely taken out of context, inconsiderately used, and bastardized: this is on purpose design-wise! she lives in a world where the esoteric shop offers "crystal radiation healing"! everything's been commandeered for profit! nothing has meaning anymore!

also the layout of her tattoos was based off of ryan from inkmaster...... sorry

she doesn't get irritated if you ask about her tattoos, but frazzled. no, she doesn't have a cool reason why she got that one. she doesn't even remembering getting it. she just wanted a tattoo. wants to seem like she has a Deep Meaning for all of them but she just doesn't, and asking about them means you'll find that out

EDIT because i forgot to answer some questions: she doesn't remember the first one she got, but it's a stupid little checkered heart on her arm. her sister's initials and her three-card reading have the most meaning to her :^)

[arrowflier]

I absolutely loved your last ficlet, the one inspired by Take Me to Church (well, I love EVERYTHING you write), so I'm here with a thought that maybe you can turn into something:

What if, for some reason, Mickey has to speak in Ukrainian (your pick why, maybe directions to tourists or a phone call with a distant relative) and Ian witnesses it and just goes: 😳🤯🤤🥵😍, followed by "can you do that again when we're in bed"?

Thank you anon! Disclaimer that I do not know Ukrainian, so if google led me astray I apologize.

That Foreign Tongue

They were out in the rig, on their way to a pickup, when Mickey got a call.

He fumbled in his pocket to pull out his phone, frowned at it in consternation as it blared.

“Who the fuck?” he mumbled to himself, then swiped to decline.

Ian looked over as he pulled to the curb outside their destination, curious.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Fuck if I know,” was all he got in answer. “Not a fuckin’ Chicago number, that’s for sure. Not New York, either,” he added before Ian can check. Mandy wasn’t great at staying in contact, but they knew to answer if it looked like it could be her.

Ian shrugged, and reached back to grab the cash bag from behind Mickey’s seat.

“Sure it wasn’t Mexico or something?” he prodded with a forced casualness, and Mickey rolled his eyes as he shoved open the door to get out.

He met Ian around the front of the ambulance, and promptly poked him in the chest, hard.

“What was that for?” Ian asked, wounded, and Mickey clicked his tongue.

“For still fuckin’ fishin’ about that,” he told his husband. “It’s been two fucking years, let it go already.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ian huffed. “Sorry for wanting to know more about what you did down there that has people calling in the middle of the—”

“That was one time!” Mickey exclaimed, arms going wide. “One fucking time, and I told you what it was about! Roberto needed me to check on his damn kid, it had nothing to do with—”

“Well how was I supposed to know that,” Ian interrupted loudly, “when you were speaking a whole different language?”

“Oh, for the love of…” Mickey trailed off as he stormed away from Ian down the sidewalk.

He wasn’t really mad. They did this song and dance around once a month, still, ever since one of his old contacts had found him and called him up. It stuck in Ian’s craw that Mickey had had people down there, without him, even though, as he explained to him once, he was glad about it at the same time. They both knew it didn’t really matter—sometimes it just needed to come out.

Sure enough, Ian caught up with him after only a few strides, falling in beside him naturally. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but otherwise there was no indication of their brief argument.

Mickey gave him two minutes before he tried to smooth it over.

Ian didn’t last one.

“You know,” his husband started, reaching up to scratch at his jaw. “I���m just making sure none of those foreigners come up here and take what’s mine.”

Mickey snorted. “Yeah?” he prompted. “Think they’re coming for our jobs and our husbands, now?”

Ian’s lips lifted in a grin, their banter back on track the way they liked it.

“I mean,” he said, “I can’t really blame them.” He grabbed Mickey by the arm and brought them both to a stop right outside their drop, tugging him close enough for their boots to kick together on the pavement.

“A hot, red-blooded American man like yourself,” Ian murmured, getting his arms around Mickey’s waist. “You’re quite the catch, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Mmm,” Mickey hummed, leaning up to bring their faces closer. “That right, Mr. Milkovich?”

He was just about to follow it up with a good old-fashioned make-up kiss, when his phone blared again from his pocket.

“Damn it,” he hissed as he thumped his heels back down and dug it out again. This time, he answered it immediately.

“Whoever the fuck you are,” he shouted into it, “you’re interruptin’ something here.”

An unfamiliar voice came down the line, barely audible to Ian where he still stood close but with a clearly chastising tone, and the fight went out of Mickey in an instant.

“Prīvіt,” Mickey muttered, looking almost bashful, and Ian did a double-take. That wasn’t English, or Spanish…he had to try and listen in on a third language, now? When did Mickey even find the time to learn this shit?

Ian watched silently as Mickey listened to whoever was on the line. His husband had folded into himself, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and his elbow with the other, casting a quick glance up at Ian before turning his attention away again.

“Shcho novogo?” he asked into the phone, and then a brilliant smile crossed his face a moment later. “Dobre, dobre,” he said, then “vitayu”.

It sounded like the caller asked him a question, next, but Ian couldn’t hear what Mickey answered, his husband lowering his voice and turning his back. Ian tried not to let himself feel hurt at the sudden shut-out.

A moment later, the call was over with a quiet “do pobachenn'a”, and Mickey faced him again.

Ian wanted to ask, but he waited instead, hoping Mickey would explain. Thankfully, he did.

“So, uh,” he started off nervously. “That was my…like, my great-aunt or something?”

Ian could feel his eyebrows rising. “You have family you still talk to?” he asked, and Mickey shook his head immediately.

“Nah, not really,” he admitted. “But this one, she’s back in Ukraine still, guess she calls around sometimes to check on me and Mandy.” He looked down at the dark screen of his phone, lips twisted. “Been a couple years,” he added. “Didn’t think she had the new number, but uh. Guess one of my cousins just had a kid or somethin', so she wanted to catch up.”

Family was a touchy subject, Ian knew. So he went for the next obvious question instead.

“Ukraine? That mean you speak Ukrainian?”

Mickey just looked at him. “No, Ian,” he offered dryly, “I just thought I’d make some weird sounds and see if she could read my mind from across the fuckin’ ocean.” Ian didn’t respond, so he tacked on, “Yes, I speak Ukrainian. Sort of.” He rubbed his nose, looked away and back. “That gonna be a problem for you?”

It was a fair enough question. But this wasn’t like the Spanish, which was never really the problem anyway. It wasn’t a reminder of time they spent apart, or things he didn’t now. It was just Mickey. And Mickey's voice, and the way it rolled over those unfamiliar phrases so cleanly, so...attractively.

“Not at all,” Ian clarified quickly. Too quickly, maybe, because Mickey’s cautious look gave way to a slow smile.

“Oh, really?” Mickey said, apparently delighted. He grinned even wider when Ian felt his face flush. So his husband sounded hot in other languages, fucking sue him.

“Better watch out, man," Mickey warned. "I hear foreigners like me are out huntin’ down men like you nowadays.”

Ian cleared his throat, and closed the distance between them again. “And that’s a problem how?” he asked.

“Didn’t say it was, miy cholovik,” Mickey murmured lowly, raising a hand to grip at Ian’s hair once he was close enough. Ian’s breath caught at the soft look on his eyes that accompanied the foreign words.

“What does that mean?”

Mickey pressed their lips together once, twice, before pulling back just enough to answer.

“Nothing bad, moye sontse,” he breathed, and Ian shuddered.

“We have a job to do,” he reminded Mickey weakly, like he hadn’t been the one to start this. “You keep saying that weird shit, we’re gonna have to cancel all our pickups today.”

“You better make some calls then, miy kokhanets,” Mickey chuckled against his lips. “But first…”

He pushed Ian back into a convenient alley right next to their original destination, shoving until they hit the rough brick wall. Ian didn’t protest as Mickey started to tug at his camo jacket, getting the zipper down far enough to mouth at Ian’s neck.

“Ya tebe kokhayu, Ian” Mickey muttered against his skin, pressing tighter as Ian clutched at his back. “Let me show you how much.”

--

Hours later, at home, Ian asked Mickey what else his aunt had said.

"Oh, not much," Mickey answered, snuggling closer. "Wanted to see if we could catch a flight sometime, go visit the old country, that kind of thing."

"Is that something you'd want to do?" he prodded, and Mickey shrugged, shoulders moving against Ian's chest.

"I guess," he said, unconvincingly disinterested. "I'd have to teach you the language, though, none of my mom's folks speak English."

Ian's brain ground to a halt. If the day had been any indication, he wasn't sure he could survive language lessons with his husband.

But never let it be said that Ian Gallagher backed down from a challenge.

"Sure," he agreed, and he was sure of one thing when he felt Mickey smile against his neck--it was going to be the best worst decision of his life.

--

According to my admittedly poor research, Mickey basically says hi, what's up, good, congrats, goodbye, then calls Ian my husband, my sun, my lover and says I love you. It's most likely all horribly butchered because I only speak English and a tiny bit of German, if you know Ukrainian I would happily take correction.

[loneberry]

2021—annus horribilis, or annus mirabilis?

i guess it was a “breakout” year for me, but biographical time is not always synced with social time—sometimes the world is falling to pieces at the exact moment fortuna is, for once in your life, merciful. on paper i had a good year. i got a secure job with a decent salary in a city where it’s always sunny (Los Angeles), a city where i no longer need to dread the coming of winter (a matter of no small consequence for a Floridian girl like me). i published a book that was selected as a "Best of 2021" by the New York Times, Boston Globe, Entropy, NPR, Publisher’s Weekly, Lit Hub, etc and was a finalist for the National Book Award. shock! i had ferried some words from the world of dreams into the the waking world thinking i was merely speaking into the void, that my lilliputian song, these punk reveries would not be received.

yet i see now how wrong i was in spring 2021 when i told my New School students that we were turning a corner on this pandemic, that summer 2021 would be the hot girl summer blowout that would finally bury this pandemic and augur the death of this protracted shit show. no. it didn’t pan out that way. vaccine IP rights were maintained to protect the profits of the pharmaceutical industry even though mRNA technology was developed using taxpayer dollars. the rich countries hoarded vaccines while poor countries remained unvaccinated and became the petri dish for the emergence of more transmissible variants. COVAX (the pet project of bill gates) was an absolute failure. to date, only 9% of people in Africa are fully vaccinated. i often think about how we would explain this absurd scenario to aliens, the absolute ease by which we sacrifice everything at the altar of capitalism; in this case, our willingness to sabotage our only hope at getting this global pandemic under control for the private benefit of big pharma.

*

i woke on the first day of 2022 with a desire to read, in chronological order, the notebooks i kept during the year 2021. it was warm enough for me to sit outside in the sun in my sleeveless sunflower dress. i meditated then read each entry, wanting to touch some objective truth about what 2021 was to me. it took me all day.

at the beginning of 2021 i received a called from Hunts photo lab in Cambridge MA. hi. your pictures are available for pickup. my pictures? apparently the photos from a roll of film i dropped off in 2014 had mysteriously turned up. 7 years later. i hadn’t a clue what the pictures would be of. yes they were the pictures from the disposable camera i took to Scotland in 2013, when i lived w C and J in Glasgow.

the returned picture, a picture of freedom: my spot in the University of Glasgow library. hidden in the stacks, there was a small desk in front of a window overlooking the city. all at once it came back to me: leaving the apartment early morning with my rolling suitcase of library books, to sit at my little desk reading the novels of James Baldwin. how upset it made C, the sound of the door clicking shut in the morning: she’s off to the library again, leaving me behind in tears, for her departure brings back the daily abandonment i experienced every time my mother left for work in the morning. (one person’s freedom is another person’s abandonment.) i was broke and broken, without a place to live or a job lined up (i had bought a 1-way ticket to Scotland, not knowing what i would do or where i would go afterward), yet i found great consolation in that library, in every library that offered itself up to me as a sanctuary, a sacred place of unharried contemplation. the photo reminded me of the time before i was somebody, when my time was my time, when i could protect and dwell in the garden of my mind. how can i find a way back to that garden?

[dreamscapestars]

The Ultimate Reylo Fanfic List

* = highly recommend (aka if you’re going to read anything off this list read this)

Canonverse AUs

***All Our Days - E - 221k - "I can listen no longer in silence."The hologram projection of his strangely handsome face is cobalt blue, flickering, and full of static. "I must speak to you, Rey. You… you pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that I am not too late.” He groans, runs his hands through his dark, silver-streaked hair, then refocuses his gaze on the holorecorder. “I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago. Do not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death."Here the recording of Ben takes a deep breath, and looks down at something outside the holorecorder’s field of view. Perhaps at his hands, Rey manages to think, through the veil of shock and timid, fluttering hope. She wishes she were there with him, so she could take them in her own, and offer him the confidence to carry on.But this is only a hologram, so she must wait. Eventually, when he looks up again, his features have settled. He looks… Fierce. Determined. Self-assured."I have loved none but you," he says. - canonverse jane austen au 

trillions of molecules - T - 11k - Fake papers forged, contract signed and a navy blue jumpsuit with his name printed on the chest supplied to him, the man who called himself Solo was hired by the Felucian Transit Corporation as shuttle operator number B414. - tros fix it au 

There Shall I Be - N/A - 50k -She remembers the first and only time she saw him smile like this before and how it didn’t touch his eyes at the time and how it broke her heart.Now it fills her heart and gives her life.She shoves him back onto their blanket and climbs on top of him. She pulls off her sweater and takes him inside her again and rides him into the night. - canonverse far from the madding crowd au

*landscape with a blur of conquerors - E - 362k - "While I share your contempt for this situation in which we find ourselves, do not mistake it as apathy," he hissed through gritted teeth, dark eyes burning. "I hardly expect your disposition to sweeten, but I will be damned if I allow my future Empress to behave in a manner that reflects poorly on me and on the First Order!""If you allow?" She wrenched her arm out of his viselike grasp, batting his hand away for good measure. "I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone.""That might have been the case back when you were a scavenger on that pitiful scrap heap of a planet, but now?" His sardonic gaze flickered over her silk robes and the jewels woven through her elaborate braids. "Now you are the Chume'da, and the Chume'da belongs to her people. Their fate is entirely in your hands. Should you cross the line, it is they who will suffer for it. Am I making myself clear?""I hate you," she said bitterly. He sneered at her. "See? Already you are acclimatizing so well to married life." - arranged marriage au

Modern AUs

*the man, the stallion, and the wind - E - 17k - Weary and alone, Rey barrels west on the Trans-Canada Hwy in her old pickup truck. Weary and in need of a lift, Ben Solo stands by the side of the road with his thumb out, in the hopes of hitching a ride.One hell of a winter storm’s about to roll in, leaving them stranded. What ever shall they do? - hitchhiker au 

The Mechanic - E - 122k - It's a magical midsummer night, just made for following a persuasive, dangerous-looking lawyer to a hotel across the road from the party. But then reality catches up to Rey. - mafia baby au

*Soul Searching - E - 205k - Sixteen-year-old Rey finds out she’s soulmates with her English teacher -- in front of her entire class. Now the school gossips won’t leave her alone, prying for tidbits that Rey wouldn’t give them even if she had any. And she doesn’t. Because Mr. Solo is too horrified at being soulmates with an underage girl to even talk to her. - soulmate au

Mitan, Midi - E - 83k - After a French notary contacts Rey to inform her she's inherited a house in the Drôme (France), she decides from one day to the next to quit her job and move there. The house is pretty secluded, there's no service, no internet, no way to reach other people aside from the landline in the living-room.Ideal conditions, by her standards, as those theoretically should allow her to be perfectly alone. Theoretically. - french country side au

*A Treehouse Covered in Salt - E - 34k -High school senior Rey Johnson has lived next door to Ben Solo her whole life. The two could not be more different and at school, Rey wouldn't be caught dead in his presence. That doesn't stop her from sneaking out to their treehouse every night. Despite her unwillingness to be friends with Ben in the light of day, he has always been there with her in the darkness. - high school au

Initial - M - 45k - A Soulmate AU in which you are born with the initials of your soulmate marked on the nape of your neck. Easy enough, right? Except for two people who don't use their real names. - soulmate au 

Killing Me Softly - M - 32k - Rey clings to the hope that her husband will regain his memories after he survived a car crash that left him with amnesia. During her monthly visits at a medical facility with Ben, who now calls himself Kylo, she struggles to cope as he tries to make her let go of the past, and in turn, him with it. - amnesia au 

only child of the universe - E - 98k - The first time Rey meets Ben, they're carefree strangers getting high at the fair, alight and in love for a night. The second time is different. The second time is in therapy— where the asshole won't even acknowledge her. - high school au 

a place to go - E - 52k - All Rey Johnson wanted was solitude. A place to go where she could escape from the daily stressors and mayhem of her job. A place where she could enjoy some peace and some quiet. Her mentor Luke Skywalker's small cabin up north seemed like the ideal place to do just that. A week of seclusion was just what she needed.And then Ben Solo arrived. - snowed in au 

into the great laughter of mankind - E - 30k - There is something about watching Rey put her mind to task. Ben can't put a name to this something, exactly— all he knows is that it fascinates him like nothing else has in a long, long time."Dr. Solo?" She glances over at him. "What do you think?"I think I'm doomed, he wants to say but doesn't. I think the curse of the pharaohs has nothing on you. I think you are my Egypt. - archaeologist au

(now it’s) Time to Learn - M - 86k - “You’re a teacher?” Ben doesn’t look like a teacher. At least not like any teacher Rey has ever had. - teacher au

For Now - E - 8k - There are plenty of things he could say, but he doesn’t. Buying you muffins makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning. I wish I could go back in time and be the kind of person you could like. I don’t remember my life before you. ---------- When Kylo finds his soulmate, she doesn’t know, and he doesn’t tell her. - soulmate au 

Cupcake Wars - E - 36k - Entirely by accident, Rey ends up fucking someone who works for Snoke's Cupcakery. She's just blowing off steam. It doesn't mean anything at all. It certainly won't come back to bite her in the ass. - bakery au

The Food of Love - E - 60k - Rey picked up her first violin at eleven, finding a mentor in conductor and former-violinist Luke Skywalker. With the First Chair up for grabs, Rey is thrust into the spotlight as the youngest violinist to take First Chair in the NY Pops. But Kylo Ren - former violinist, former NY Pops cellist, formerly Ben Solo child prodigy - may take issue with Rey Nobody sitting in his grandfather's chair. - orchestra au 

Orion - E - 14k - Rey Niima finds herself in the Saharan desert trying to heal wounds from her life, and Ben Solo is there too, fixing himself along the way. - roadtrip au

Embers - E - 34k - All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried. Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting? - getting back together au 

Gilded - M - 11k - Everyone had two marks, one for class and another to identify a soulmate. She only had one: green rings on her finger, proof she was part of the laboring class. It made matters lonely, but never unbearable.Until she met him. He had two sets of marks—had a soulmate—and she did not. - soulmate au

flutz - E - 27k - Rey was determined to have no distractions during her first season in Senior Ladies figure skating.She swore that Olympic medalist and figure skating legend Ben Solo was not going to change that, no matter how intent he seemed on proving her wrong. - ice skater au 

oh autumn, oh teakettle, oh grace - E - 30k - "So let me get this straight," he says. "You're a dryad.""Quite so," she cheerfully replies."Like an actual—" His hand rises to make a feeble gesture at the towering elms that surround them— "tree-dwelling, speaks-with-animals, has-magical-powers, frolics-through-the-woods-in-orgiastic-pagan-frenzy dryad?"She wrinkles her delicately freckled nose. "Well, I don't know about orgiastic frenzy, that's really more of a maenad type of deal."He looks her up and down, taking in her pretty face and her slender figure in the skimpy white dress."Too bad," he mumbles. - dryad roadtrip au

A Proposal by Any Other Name - E - 188k - Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose.She wants a family, after all.The universe has different ideas. Her flights are delayed, storms hit, she loses her tickets and everything seems to be going horribly. To top it off, she ends up stranded around a rather irritating man by the name of Kylo Ren. It goes about as well as you'd expect. - leap year au

endless summer afternoon - E - 63k - “My son's room is always made up,” Han had said, hitting a light switch as Rey clung to a dirty backpack in the dark hallway, “he never comes home. Warm bed might as well get some use.”Rey spared Han some of the dignity of his own longing assessment of the space that clearly hadn’t been looked at in a long time. An empty room in a quiet house. As gruff as he was, handing it off to some runaway nobody just because she was helping him rebuild a car was one of the kindest gestures she’d ever experienced, and had a hidden weight that she knew needed a respectful amount of privacy. Mysteries were often about unresolved sadness, and were usually only solved by the people who didn’t feel it.Rey is offered a place to stay: a spare bedroom once belonging to the mysterious Ben Solo. What does she do when she wakes up with him wanting his bed back? - roommates au 

Dandelion - E - 45k - Rey's an ex con and orphan, just released from jail after killing Plutt. She follows advice from her former guardian, Maz, and finds a job at Luke's coffee shop. Ben's a lawyer who lost his job and moved back to his hometown. He falls for Rey, unaware of her dark past. - coffee shop au

A Few Small Repairs - E - 69k - Ben Solo is a ruthless property developer, and Rey Johnson is the lone holdout on the block. She does not intend to give up what's hers, not for anything. (Not even for a pair of pretty eyes.) - property developer au

Unbroken - E - 7k - He found her sleeping in the stables, curled up in the stall of his newest, unbroken colt...

Lockjaw - M - 106k - Kylo finds Rey unconscious and near death on the side of a road, surrounded by twitching, wretched things looking to her for their next meal. Ever the altruist, he picks them off and takes her with him, saving her life in the process. It's no wonder that when she wakes she feels she owes him, and agrees to become his travel companion as he crosses the United States in search of safety and a new home. - zombie apoclypse au 

Everything to Prove - M - 13k - “The show,” he says. “It’s probably best if they don’t—if we don’t—”And Rey follows his line of thought at once. For all the program is one that doesn’t seem melodramatic—the height of drama in previous seasons came from someone’s cake falling over and that was about it—she does not doubt that the producers and cameramen would leap at the opportunity to make there be something out of nothing in their relationship—especially if there was something out of something.“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, probably. We can pick baking stations that are…” but she doesn’t want to complete the thought. She likes baking next to Ben.“Or we can just be careful?” he suggests, sounding quite as pained by the prospect as Rey feels.“Yeah, careful. I can do careful,” Rey says at once and her lips are on his again and he’s laughing now, and she’s laughing, and she didn’t think laughter would be part of all this. She didn’t think it could be. But here she is, laughing and kissing and holding a man who, at some point, she’s going to want to beat.She does her best not to think of that now.It’s a friendly competition, after all. It’s not life and death. It’s baking. - great british bake off au 

*In Bloom - E - 13k - The flowers that bedeck her skin don’t lie—ballet dancer Rey is in love with her partner, Ben. But the years go by and his skin stays resolutely, devastatingly blank.He doesn’t love her. But when his hands are on her body, she can pretend. - ballet soulmates au

By Blood and Flame - E - 10k - Rey can’t go to her professors with this spell. She needs help, though, needs someone to do the spell with her, and she needs the best because it’s tricky. Dangerous.There’s a boy on campus. Powerful. Mysterious. He’s admired and envied, feared and loathed, depending on who’s talking, but for all everyone knows his story, no one seems to really know him. And Rey… Rey has been curious about him for… well, for longer than she wants to admit.She’s not sure if it’s good or bad luck that he’s the perfect person to help cast her spell. - magic college au

count the rings - E - 63k - “Because you’re sitting there all comfy, not looking at all bridal-” “I’ll just fetch the veil out of my backpack, shall I?” “-when you could be, you know, making a move on that fine-ass tree.” In which camping comes with unexpected consequences. - accidental marriage au

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school - E - 129k - Ben, a counselor in the upper school at the legendary Alliance Academy, keeps finding himself interacting with the lower school art teacher, Rey. He definitely doesn’t like it. - teacher au

follow in your form - E - 23k - Ben Solo wakes up paralyzed and angry about it.A story about dealing with change, holding onto hope, and finding love. - quadriplegic ben au 

*screwdriver - M -101k - Rey is a bright-eyed intern on her first campaign trail, Ben is an irritated data analyst, and how difficult can it be to get a legacy senator elected president? Apparently fucking impossible. - political au

9 pints - E - 83k - She knew next to nothing, and Google was largely unhelpful. All of her searches (“vampire sex rules” and “vampire dos and don’ts” and one very self-indulgent “average vampire cock size big?”) linked her to dated top ten lists written by anyone other than an actual vampire.Twenty minutes of frustrated scrolling eventually led her to a supernatural dating forum. The website was horribly aged, but still active. Questions were tagged, which meant that it was easy to narrow down her search. Vampire, she clicked, and Sex.--In which Rey gets suckered into shooting porn with one of Poe's pickiest vampire actors. - magical porn stars au

fine young cannibals - E - 27k - Kylo raised his head to the sky as he inhaled, his broad chest expanding even wider. His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the scent like a sumptuous meal. He grinned.“Oh,” he murmured, so softly Rey wasn’t even sure it was meant for her ears. His eyes slid to meet hers, scarlet and violent and hungry. “You brought a snack.”And then all hell broke loose.About three things, Rey is absolutely positive:First, she is totally, completely, and madly in love with her vampire boyfriend, Poe.Second, there is another vampire—an older, evil, definitely-not-hot vampire—that thirsts for her blood and wants nothing more than to kill her.And third, she is maybe not absolutely positive about either of these things. - twilight au

Epithumia - E - 46k- ἐπιθυμία, ας, ἡ: epithumia : desire, passionate longing, lust *** “No extra credit.” He made a noise that might have been a laugh. “You ask that every time.” “Well, I have to try.” Rey said, weakly. “Can you make an exception?” A lone eyebrow ascended his lofty forehead into his hairline. “Try harder, Miss Kenobi.” - college teacher/student au

Historical AUs (ranging from medieval to the early 2000s)

light carries on endlessly - M - 6k - “Traitor,” he told Cerberus gruffly not too much later, using both hands to scratch behind the hound’s many ears. What appeared to be a rat tail lay nearby on a blood-stained bit of stone. “What did I tell you about women with pretty eyes?”One wet tongue lapped at his wrist, and he sighed. “Right. Nothing.” - Hades and Persephone au 

The Witch in the Wood - E - 138k - As a knight errant of the kingdom of Alderaan, Kylo Ren has traveled the country, completing quest after perilous quest in search of redemption for the dark deeds of his past. When an evil witch captures the princess of a neighboring kingdom, Kylo reluctantly accepts the burden of rescue with the assumption that it will be a simple task.It is not. For the creature that lives in the woods is not a monster at all.Since her mentor died, Rey has lived in the witch’s tree and uses magic to maintain the balance of the forest. Her life is practical, repetitive, and simple—at least, until a wrathful knight thunders through her door and levels a sword at her throat. Yet something within the knight calls to her, a buzz beneath his skin that she recognizes.Without a doubt, he is not who he appears to be. - medieval witch au

Black Knight, White Queen - E - 53k - Luke Skywalker wrote his sister a letter on his deathbed, revealing that his ward is the orphaned heir of a family long thought extinct - and politically powerful. That letter fell into the wrong hands, and the secret of Rey's heritage is secret no more. The Emperor has managed to unite the Kingdoms, but he is old, and his son is weak. Seeking to ensure his son's claim to his throne, he sends his most trusted captain to bring the girl - willing or not - to be his son's bride. Rey is taken from her far-flung home, and plunged into a world of court intrigue, arranged marriage, political rivals, and would-be assassins - the black knight her constant companion and bodyguard. But even he, her dark shadow and protector, she cannot know whether to trust... - medieval bodyguard au 

Days to Remember - E - 42k - A man heads home after years of estrangement. What do you need from me? A woman leaves her world behind, a bird in a gilded cage. When we get to New York, I need help running away. -- I'll bring you to Boston with me. - titanic au 

*what if the storm ends - E - 61k - As a child, Rey is evacuated from London to the Yorkshire Dales during the Blitz. She spends the war in the care of the Solos on their farm, wandering the moors with their son looking for a legendary family artifact long lost. When the war is over, she returns to a city she no longer recognizes, and she writes a popular series of children's fantasy books based on her childhood in the Dales. After amassing fame and fortune with her stories, tragedy brings her back to the farm to see Ben Solo, once her greatest inspiration and now a widower. - post WWII au 

Take Me - E - 39k - Every night, at 8:30 pm, Rey and Ben get on stage and pretend to be in love with each other. At 9:15, they walk off stage and the actual fireworks begin. - 60s country singers au

I could have been wild, I could have been free (but nature played a trick on me) - M - 61k - “Did you know that I did not even learn your name until yesterday, when I married you?”His face flushed a darker red than it had at breakfast, and he attempted to defend himself with incompetent stammering, “I—I regret that. The situation, of course, would have been,” he wrung his hands together and stared at her feet, “It would have been preferable if we had known one another more. On several occasions, I did attempt to make myself known to you, but you seemed to have other preoccupations.”Rey could feel her face contorting into a sneer to spit out her barbed words, “Perhaps that was your cue not to marry me!” - regency arranged marriage au 

Patch - M - 20k - He is nineteen when he first sees her.She comes to the rink alone, laces her skates alone, strokes warm-up circles alone...He looks at her, really looks her in the eye, and he decides he likes what he sees.She may be young, but she is hungry and angry, and for now? That’s enough for him.It’s not like he has a lot of options. - 80 russian ice skaters au 

*The Great Big No - E - 165k - Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide? - 90s rock au

***go I know not whither and fetch I know not what - E - 119k - The year is 1994. The Iron Curtain has come down, the oligarchs have begun their rise to power, and Kyril Ren, a powerful member of the infamous crime syndicate Solntsevskaya Bratva, has been given a job: hunt down an estranged uncle who has been snitching to the FBI.Irena, nicknamed Rey by her adoptive father Luke, is a Krav Maga instructor in New York who has finally been able to obtain her original birth certificate from Russia. Turns out she was born in a little village named Vershinino, but if she wants to know more than that… she’s going to have to go there herself. - 90s russian mafia au 

we could plant a house, we could build a tree - E -124k - Ben takes a deep breath. “It’s—it’s a project. Conceptual art. You wouldn’t get it.”Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.” ** Seven-year-old Rey decides it's her duty to annoy the crap out of Ben Solo every single day she's alive. - 90s growing up together artist au

[ironhusband]

you walk into a dressing room thinking it's unoccupied, but instead finds a man without his shirt on with sambucky??????

Anon, I haven't considered this but you are so right.

~~~

Sharon's parties were always so loud.

Bucky wasn't sure if it was believable that he knew Sharon before she was... this. She changed so much, a completely different person now. The Sharon he knew would never even think of throwing a party. They met through work, working for different departments at SHIELD. They have since both changed jobs and lines of work, but they stayed friends. For the most Bucky enjoyed that. Sharon's parties though... weren't his favorite things.

He wasn't sure why he went to them, but well, here he was.

After approximately ten people have knocked straight into his prosthetic, Bucky figured he needed to go and fix it, because it was hurting. This is why he hated these parties too loud and too cramped and too... much.

Going through the crowd to find Sharon for the direction of the nearest bathroom, Bucky bumped into five more people which was... just great.

When he found Sharon, who didn't even seem to be enjoying her own party, surveying the room from afar, he tapped on her shoulder. Over the loud, thumping music, he asked, "where... is... the... bathroom?"

Sharon, uncaring for the loophole of the thumping music, said, "...wn... hall" which was enough for Bucky.

Wading once more through the bodies of the hundreds of people, Bucky found the room Sharon was referring to. It wasn't exactly a bathroom so much as a dressing room, but maybe Sharon figured out what he'd needed to do. He wouldn't be surprised to find out she had mind reading powers.

Entering the dressing room, he found it already occupied... by a man with the body of a greek god.

Just his fucking luck.

"Oh my god, I'm so fucking sorry," Bucky uttered.

The man turned around and Bucky realized two things; one, if he hadn't said anything, he could have gotten away with this and two... dear god, this man's face was out of this world. Sharp cheekbones, an impeccable goatee and the brownest eyes framed by the most obscene eyelashes Bucky had ever seen... he wasn't fucking prepared for this. God.

"It's alright," the man smiled, and fuck, his smile was made of pure sunshine, "A little weird now that you're staring at me, but alright."

"Sorry, I'll..."

"Hang on," the angel stopped him before he could leave, picking up a patterned, bright yellow and red suit, "this is bad, right? I'm trying to tell Sharon but she's so stubborn..."

"I think you'd look good in anything," Bucky blurted out. Fuck, what was that? "Wait, you know Sharon?"

Angel smiled wider, but thankfully didn't mention the unintentional pickup line, "yeah. How do you know her?"

"SHIELD."

"No way!" angel exclaimed, "me too!"

Bucky raised his eyebrows, "you worked for SHIELD too?" He was certain he wouldn't forgot someone like this man in front of him.

"No," angel dismissed, "I helped take it down."

Bucky blinked. Angel fucking indeed. This man was a hero. Even Bucky couldn't do that, in the end. "No way."

Angel shrugged, grinning smugly, "yes way. All part of the job. Sam Wilson, by the way." Angel - Sam - offered Bucky his hand to shake, and Bucky couldn't believe this was happening.

"Bucky Barnes," Bucky shook his hand.

~~~

"You did that on purpose," Bucky accused, waving Sam's number in her face.

Sharon shrugged, "I plead the fifth."

[patt-writes-stuff]

Pink (Hawks x gn!Reader)

Pairing: Hawks/Takami Keigo x gn! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: cursing but that’s about it!

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, Romantic/Relationship

Tags/Aus: boss x secretary, pining, slow burn, slight cannon divergence probably

Summary: 5 times your boss, Hawks, made you flustered + the one time you made him flustered

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!! This is my fic for the Attack on Academia server’s Secret Santa Event!! This is for @sugacookiies​ !! and I really hope you like it!!! 

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 1

“Thank you so much for coming today, we’ll be sure to get back to you soon,” the lady who had been interviewing you said, smiling at you. You bowed your head slightly, thanking her for her time with a small smile on your face.

After exiting the room and closing the door, you took a deep breath, as if to calm your still very present nerves. You had been up for a job as a secretary at pro hero Hawk’s agency, something you were more than thrilled about.  

Growing up, you’d always been immensely intrigued with the world of pro heroes. Your room had been decked out in hero figurines and posters, the whole nine yards. Hell, even your comforter was hero themed at a certain point in time. It had just always fascinated you how these people would use their quirks for the good of humanity and to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

Sadly, your quirk, MoodLocks, wasn’t very useful in crime-fighting. All it did was allow your hair to change colors depending on your mood. It was pretty, of course, but you had a hard time controlling it and it could never help you beat an opponent. If anything, it would give the villain an insight into your thoughts and put you at a clear disadvantage.

So, as time passed, your childish fantasies of becoming a hero did as well. It didn’t bother you anymore, as you were more than happy with the career you’d chosen. Your love of heroes was still very much present, hence why you were so nervous about today’s interview. If you got the job, not only would the pay be incredible, but you’d also get the chance to help an actual hero. Maybe you’d even get the chance to meet more of them!

You were pretty sure you had made a fairly good impression so hopefully, you would indeed get a call from the agency soon.

Walking out of the agency, you couldn’t help but let out a yawn. You’d stayed up far too late last night googling commonly asked job interview questions so you wanted nothing more than to get back to your apartment and catch up on some much-needed rest. Maybe you and your roommate could order in.

“Oh God, I am so sorry that was my fault. I just finished this super stressful interview and I’m super tired so I was not watching where I was going-” your babbling came to a sudden halt as you looked up, brain losing all ability to form coherent thoughts.

Right before your very eyes was the man who’s “a bit too fast” in all his red-winged glory. You’d seen him in interviews online, of course, you kept up with most pro hero interviews, so you knew he was handsome. However, the cameras most certainly did not do the man justice. His yellow glasses were resting on his forehead, pushing his messy (and very soft looking) blond hair back. His gold eyes seemed to be looking right into your soul, calculating yet calm.

God, you wished you could make your eyeliner look remotely similar to his.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you realized that you’d been staring for what you could only describe as an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Before you could embarrass yourself further, the winged hero placed a gloved hand on your shoulder. He looked at the top of your head, an intrigued expression adorning his face before morphing into an easy smile, he spoke, “‘S no problem, chickadee. Good luck with your interview.”

And just like that, the hero went along his merry way.

Curious what he’d been staring at, not to mention the nickname, you looked up at your hair, which had previously been a bright shade of orange due to being anxious, was now very pink. You blanched at the thought of having lost control of your quirk so easily, in front of a cute guy pro hero who might be your future boss no less.

‘Well,’ you thought, ‘at least I can say I met Japan’s #2 hero even if I don’t get this job.’

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 2

Much to your surprise, and pleasure, you had indeed received a call from Hawks’ agency about a week later. After several follow up interviews (much more than you were expecting, honestly, but you suppose it made since he’s such a high ranking hero) a very thorough background check, you had gotten the job.

When you had gotten the job, you had been hoping that the blond would have forgotten your first encounter, since you had literally malfunctioned right before his very eyes. The chances of him forgetting weren’t exactly small, after all. You were sure he met plenty of people every day and your interaction had been incredibly brief.

A month into your job as his secretary, you seemed to be in the clear. Sure, he knew about your quirk, since he was your employer and the ever-changing array of colors in your hair aren’t exactly subtle, but seeing as he hadn’t mentioned it so he’d probably forgotten.

You’d stayed at the agency long after your shift was overdue to a couple of low-ranking villains attempting to rob a bank. It had been an easy win for Hawks, he was in and out of there long before his sidekicks had even gotten there, but the villains had caused a lot of unnecessary damage to the building, so there was a ridiculous amount of paperwork.

You couldn’t wait to get home and change out of your stuffy work clothes and into the comfiest pair of PJs you owned. Your roommate, always a sweetheart, had been kind enough to save you some leftovers from her dinner so all you had to do was warm it up, eat, shower, and crash on your bed.

Whilst you were getting ready to head home, your boss had decided that it was only fair to walk you home, seeing as it was late. You had insisted that he didn’t need to do that, even showing him the can of pepper spray you carried around your person at all times. Still, he’d insisted, and who were you to say no?

The winged hero had originally offered to fly you home, but you’d profusely told him it wasn’t necessary. So, the two of you ended up taking the train. The two of you got a couple of weird stares from your fellow passengers, seeing as the flying hero was taking a train instead of y’know… flying and his wings took a significantly large part of the seat the two of you were occupying (it seemed uncomfortable but he didn’t mention it). Hawks seemed to either not notice or not care, opting instead to have an animated conversation with you about the best fried chicken places in Fukuoka. It was mostly him talking, but you’d add to the conversation every once in a while, and sometimes people would interrupt and ask for an autograph, which he’d sign with a carefree smile on his face.

“You don’t have to walk me home, sir,” you told him after the two of you had exited the station closest to your apartment.

“What kind of hero would I be if I let a civilian walk alone across the dark streets of Japan?” He asked you, tone light and teasing. “Also, didn’t I tell you to call me Hawks? Sir makes me feel old.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at his words, turning to the left towards your apartment. You’d get there soon and a small part of you wanted to keep the banter going for as long as possible.

“I don’t think that would be very professional of me, sir,” you said playfully. He laughed and the two of you settled into a comfortable silence while you walked.

After a moment, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and he spoke up, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how exactly does your quirk work?”

“Oh well, y’know, it changes color depending on my mood, so red means I’m angry, blue can mean I’m sad or calm, pink means I’m flustered or embarrassed, purple means I’m scared, etc.”

“So your hair went pink the first time we met because you were starstruck by my devilishly good looks?” He asked in a faux haughty tone. “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you.”

The asshole remembered your first encounter.

Your hair turned pink and you celebrated inwardly as you approached your apartment. As you opened the glass door to the complex, Hawks laughed at your hurry.

“Good night,” you stated, tone indignant at his laughter, as you made your way inside.”

“‘Night, Pinky.”

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 3

Working for the red-winged hero himself was both everything you were expecting it to be and completely the opposite of it at the same time.

The hours were crazy, something you were anticipating considering villain activity had been increasing and your boss was a busy public figure. What you were certainly not anticipating, however, was that Hawks would be such a teasing little shit.

Not only had the man remembered your first encounter, but after you had explained your quirk to him (he’d asked you about it despite it being in the agency’s records since you had applied for the position, you guessed he’d done it as a way to break the ice) he’d taken it upon himself to fluster you to get your hair to go that embarrassingly bright shade of pink.

He’d call you all sorts of nicknames ranging from pinky to songbird (your favorite was by far Pinky since it feels so personal. Not that you’d ever tell him that). He’d also gotten into the habit of trying out all sorts of ridiculous pick up lines on you. The greater majority of them were bird-related, of course. Those never really got you but they did make you laugh.

The one that probably got you the most was when he’d bring you your favorite drink or lunch from a place you’d mentioned you’d like offhandedly, saying he had just been “flying by” and remembered your conversation.

You didn’t mind his flirtatious banter in the slightest. He never crossed any boundaries and kept things professional when it came to business. It was pretty fun to see what nicknames or pickup lines he had up his sleeves.

The only downside was that you’d begun to develop a slight crush on the red-winged hero. It would never lead to anything, you were well aware of that. He was not only a famous hero who was constantly under public scrutiny, but he was also your boss.

It can’t hurt to dream though.

“What’s got you so distracted?” An all too familiar broke your very him-centric train of thought. You looked up from the paperwork you’d been blankly staring at. You’d been trying to multitask between eating and doing paperwork so you wouldn’t have to take any work home. After much insistence from your roommate, who was well aware of your crush on Your boss (she’d teasingly gifted you a pair of Hawks themed PJs on your birthday), you had finally given in and agreed to let her set you up on a date with a former schoolmate of hers.

“Nothing, just thinking about a date I have tonight,” you lied, looking up from your desk to meet those lovely honey-colored eyes you spent more hours than you’d care to admit thinking about. You scanned his body language, trying to gauge his reaction. Not that you could ever get a read on him. More often than not, it was impossible to get a read on him under the visage of carefree indifference he was so well known for. In the almost half a year you’d known him you’d never once seen the hero lose his cool or show any emotion other than the ones he wanted to portray. It was kind of unfair seeing as he could get a picture-perfect look into your thoughts and emotions just by looking at the color of your hair and here you were, left grasping at straws.

He seemed to have no outward reaction other than his shoulders tensing and his eyebrows scrunching up a bit in mild distaste. It was gone so fast you were sure you must have just imagined it.

“Pinky’s got themselves a date?” he said after a moment, a slightly forced teasing tilt to his voice. He crossed his hands and placed them on the taller part of your desk and leaned his weight on them, staring down at you with a cheeky grin.

“I guess so,” you said, fiddling with your chopsticks as you continued, “I’m kind of nervous though. I haven’t got on any dates since I started working here, I’m a little rusty.”

“How come you haven’t gone on any dates?” he asked, staring at you with an intensity you weren’t quite expecting from him. “Had a special someone in mind?”

The roots of your hair went white in surprise before you managed to school them into going back to your natural hair color. It was brief but he had surely noticed.

“I’d go on lots of dates if my boss gave me more days off,” you said, pushing past the momentary lull in the conversation and giving him a pointed look.

He let out a laugh, a real and genuine one, unlike the ones he’d let out during interviews or out in public. The thought made your face heat up. It made you feel special. Even if he didn’t see you in the same way you saw him, he at least trusted you enough to be real around you. That was enough for you.

“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about, kid, any person would be lucky to land a date with someone as beautiful as you,” He stated, looking at you with a certain emotion behind his gaze that you couldn’t quite decipher. “If your date happens to go south, just give me a call and I’ll pick you up. After all, what kind of hero would I be if I didn’t look out for my secretary?”

You looked at his retreating form, your hair as pink as bubble gum and heart threatening to beat out of your rib cage. He’d just called you beautiful. He’d also said that anyone would be lucky to date you. Did that include him? Did he like you?

“Hey Hawks,” you called out, surprising both him and yourself. Despite him telling you to just call him Hawks instead of ‘sir’, you’d stuck to calling him sir for the sake of professionality. “Thanks for the offer.”

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 4

You let out a tired sigh as you watched the number of floors go up on the tiny screen atop the doors of the elevator you were currently in.

When you had signed your contract to work at Hawks’ agency, you were aware that you would need to be accessible 24/7, however, you thought that if he did contact you at an ungodly hour, it’d be for something important, perhaps something along the lines of a press scandal or a massive villain attack that you’d need to start filing paperwork promptly so that the agency could report the casualties or cost of the destruction. You had highly doubted Hawks, Japan’s literal #2 hero would call his secretary at 3:00 a.m. in the goddamn morning and order them to bring him a bucket of fried chicken from fucking KFC.

You clearly hadn’t known the man at the time, you thought as you stared at the red and white bucket in your arms.

The elevator dinged, alerting you that you had arrived at your destination. Making your way through the hallway, you tried to figure out why your boss would be so cruel as to make you get him fast food when he had two perfectly capable wings that could take him to and from the nearest KFC faster than you ever could. You bet it’d even be warmer.

You’d need to download UberEats on his phone.

Before your fist could make contact with the door, it was swung open, surprising your half-asleep brain. Before your eyes there was a very awake looking Hawks, his eyes zeroed in on the bucket you were holding

“Hey there, chickadee,” he said in a teasing tone, resting his arm on the door frame in a very attractive manner. God, if you were just a bit more coherent and a little less sleep-deprived, your hair would be the most embarrassingly bright pink color imaginable.

Thankfully, you weren’t and you could hear your bed calling your name from across the city, so without bothering to answer, you shoved the bucket of chicken into his arms before turning around to speed your way back to your at this point cold bed.

Before you could get very far, however, Hawks had grabbed your wrist with your free hand.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” He asked you, letting go of your wrist.

“It’s 3 in the goddamn morning, Hawks,” was your deadpan answer.

“C’mon, you wouldn’t let your poor boss eat all alone would you,” you could tell his tone was meant to be light and playful but it was lacking his usual flare.

Your concern for the overgrown pigeon won out, and with a defeated sigh, you walked into his apartment, Hawks trailing behind you, visibly pleased that you stayed.

Despite all your time working for Hawks, you’d never actually been inside of his apartment. You had come here several times before to drop off documents he needed to sign or a new schedule (because the Hero Commission apparently couldn’t send emails directly to him) but you had always left the things at his building's front desk.

Hawks’ apartment was… emptier than you had expected it to be. It was nice, the furniture was obviously high quality, not that it was surprising considering he was a high ranking hero, but it lacked a personal touch. It had no pictures or knick-knacks in sight. It felt more like a house instead of an actual home.

“So, how’d your date go?” Hawks inquired once the two of you settled in his living room, him on the couch and you in the armchair next to it. He picked up a piece of chicken, offering it to you. However, it was far too early to even think about consuming food, so you politely declined.

“It was fine. He was nice,” you answered.

To be honest the date had gone well. He’d been nice, a complete gentleman. He’d taken you to a nice restaurant, he was great in conversation, he’d even walked you home but at the end of the night, the two of you had agreed that there was just no chemistry between the two of you whatsoever. You had decided to just stay friends.

“There won’t be a second one, though,” you added after a beat of silence.

“Good,” your eyes widened at his words and suddenly you had an epiphany.

Hawks had been jealous. He was jealous because he liked you. That’s why he had asked you to come here.

Before you could voice your thoughts, he spoke again, a sly smirk on his face, “By the way, I love your pajamas. I wasn’t aware you were such a fan.”

Your hair turned pink, as it often did whenever Hawks was around when you looked down at your clothes. In your haste to get Hawks his food so you could go back to bed, you had forgone changing clothes. You hadn’t realized you were wearing the Hawks themed PJs your roommate had gotten you as a gag gift. They were mustard-colored with lots of cute red feathers and tiny Hawks chibi heads scattered around the fabric.

He would never let you live this down.

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 5

Following the KFC event, the two of you hadn’t spoken about the situation further. At this point, you were well aware of his feelings for you, and you hadn’t exactly been subtle about liking him. The two of you just hadn’t spoken about it. You weren’t official but there was an unspoken rule that neither of you would go on dates with other people.

You were fine with it. Really, you were.

Except that you were definitely not okay with it and you were very much upset that he had just answered that he was single when the lady that had interviewed him had asked him if he was seeing anyone.

Rationally, you understood why he said no. You weren’t official and saying yes would just throw the media into a frenzy while they speculated who he was seeing. You remember how crazy everyone went a couple of months ago when pictures of Mirko and Hawks in their street clothes hanging out started circulating on Twitter. They were trending for weeks, and you had had to answer call after call, explaining that no, they are not dating and no, they don’t have time to go on the 8:00 a.m. news to answer questions about what it was like to date as pro heroes.

On the other hand, you were tired of dancing around each other. You were aware that dating a pro hero would come with hectic schedules and even some danger, but you didn’t care.

“So I was thinking you could come over and we can watch that hero documentary you told me to watch- hey are you mad at me?” Hawks asked, brows furrowed as in confusion.

“No, I’m not angry at you,” you answered, putting your stuff away and heading to the agency’s doors. You were more than ready to go back to your apartment and there was a pint of your favorite ice cream waiting for you in the freezer with your name on it.

“You totally are,” he scoffed, following after you.

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are.” Your overgrown pigeon of a boss insisted, mimicking your tone, “If you’re not angry then why is your hair red?”

With a sigh, you spoke, failing to hide the snarky tone to your voice “So what if I am angry? Why do you care? It’s not like we’re dating or anything.” You walked out onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, that’s what you're upset about?” He asked, realization dawning upon his features. When you didn’t answer he kept talking, “You of all people know why I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. It’s just- nothing, never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You told him, looking away with a defeated sigh.

You were about to walk away before he stopped you by placing his glove cladded hand  

“At least let me take you home,” it wasn’t much of a question, but you nodded anyways.

All of a sudden, you let out a shrill scream when he picked you up bridal style, hands instinctively clasping on to his coat to assure you wouldn’t fall.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you home,” he explained as if it were obvious. Before you had a chance to argue he set off into the sky.

You couldn’t hear anything but the wind in your ears and his heartbeat, but you finally understood why he loved flying so much. Exhilarating was the only word you could use to describe it. And cold. It was also really cold. You understood why he walked around with such a heavy coat now. You snuggled more into him, trying to get some more warmth, which caused Hawks to tighten his hold on you. The affectionate gesture alone had your hair going a shade of pink.

You got to your apartment building much faster than you ever would by taking the train, something that you regretted a bit since it meant he’d let go of you.

“Look, Hawks,” you started, “maybe we should-“

“Keigo,” he said, effectively cutting you off,

“W-what?” You spluttered, caught off guard.

“I want you to call me Keigo,” he said with a sense of finality, looking into your eyes with an emotion you couldn’t quite read, or at least one that you were just choosing to ignore. It’d just make what you were about to suggest harder.

“Look, Hawks,” you started, opening the door that led to the stairs, “I really like you, hell, maybe even more than that, and I want to be with you but I don’t want to be whatever we are right now forever.”

Ignoring the way his wings physically dropped at your words, you closed the door behind you and headed to your apartment.

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 1

Once you got home, you immediately stripped out of your work clothes and into your Hawks-themed pajamas (because they're the comfiest, not because they remind you of him, obviously) and you’d taken out your ice cream and went to town on it. Your roommate had noticed the dark blue that had taken over your hair but you’d brushed her off, saying it was nothing to worry about. She’d been doubtful, but she had a night shift so she left, but not before making you promise to call her if you needed to.

You’d spent the rest of the evening eating your ice cream and watching tv before deciding to get some sleep so you would feel at least a little less sorry for yourself tomorrow.

You were currently in your room, scrolling through your phone on your bed before calling it a day when you started to hear a tapping sound. You’d ruled it out to be some tree branch knocking against your window due to the wind. However, the longer you ignored it the more incessant it became.

You nearly fell out of your bed when you realized it was Hawks, your boss, the #2 pro hero of Japan, tapping on your window while squatting on your fire escape.

You got up, heading towards your window and unlocking it before pushing it up.  You helped him in before sitting down on the bed and motioning for him to do the same. An awkward silence filled the air, neither of you was quite sure of what you should say.

“Hawks, what are-“ you started before being cut off by him.

“Look, Pinky, I love you so much it scares the shit out of me,” he declared. Your hair went the brightest shade of pink it had ever been at his words.

He played with the embroidered design of the throw blanket you kept in your bed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the red-winged hero so vulnerable in all your time knowing him.

“But there’s a lot of crap that comes with my job and I could never forgive myself if I brought you into it and you got hurt. So-“ before he could finish speaking, you grabbed onto his coat’s collar with both of your hands and crashed your lips against his.

You’d waited almost an entire year for this. One thing was for certain, it was well worth the wait. You loved every single thing about him. And he loved you. That was all you needed.

After a beat, you pulled away, choosing instead to cup his cheek in an adoring manner. The two of you looked at each other with nothing short of pure unadulterated adoration.

“I love you Keigo,” you spoke his name for the first time, “as long as you���re by my side I don’t care about what happens.”

His reaction was, for lack of a better word, cute. His honey eyes were wide in shock, his face as red as his wings, and his aforementioned wings were puffed up in shock. Now you understood why he loved teasing you so much.

“So, do you wanna watch the documentary?” You asked him, walking out of your room and into the living room with a victorious smirk.

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

[aminiatureworld]

Little Bits of Love

Characters: Lisa, fm!reader

Word Count: 1,224

Warnings: None

Premise: General fluffy headcanons of being Lisa’s partner

Author’s Note: Put the whole thing in past tense because the idea of switching to present between anecdotes was killing me. Hopefully that doesn’t read too weird. Also hope I did Lisa proud. She is an absolutely amazing character after all!

Lisa

Despite Lisa’s reputation as the sultry, slightly sadistic, librarian that flirted her way through the day, the librarian held her love of books in high regard. After all, it was what she had decided to structure her life upon. Even more important than her sorcery, Lisa put the preservation and distribution of information over everything, and it was that love of knowledge that caused her to meet you.

Your interest in the minutiae of what you were studying immediately caught Lisa’s eye, and soon enough the two of your were chatting up a storm in the otherwise quiet library. Lisa agreed to send requests for more manuscripts out to Sumeru, Liyue, and Fontaine. Though Fontaine’s archives ended up being unavailable, the books from Liyue and Sumeru began their slow trickle in, and with the frequent visits to the library for pickups, you two grew into fast friends and, eventually, Lisa finally decided to ask you out on a date.

Though the two of you were often busy you managed to grab a few baked goods from a new stall set up on the edge of the center square of Mondstadt, and after an evening of perusing through the City and walking along the clear blue of Crystal Lake, the two of you had established yourself in each other’s hearts as the perfect partner.

One of the things you quickly learned about Lisa was her workaholic nature. Though she might joke around with her coworkers and put up an air of laissez faire compared to Master Jean, once Lisa had locked her in the library or in the office in your shared apartment it was nearly impossible for you to get her out of there. Some serious coffee and reading bribery had to be used.

Though you might not have been as naturally pressed to work as Lisa was, you certainly had your moments, when a deadline came up faster than expected or when a book was suddenly due tomorrow. Those days Lisa and you would usually end up doing a double all-nighter. Plying yourselves with enough black coffee to kill an Abyss Mage, the two of you set off to work, making sure to take the occasional stretching break. Somehow you two always managed to finish your work, though usually the weekend after these nights would be spent passed out on the couch, a discarded book sprawled on the floor.

When your relationship was first developing Lisa would notice sometimes that you seemed to be idolizing her, mostly due to her position as Librarian for the Knights. Though she was of course quite flattered, Lisa would take extra time to make sure that she showered you in as many compliments as you did for her. After all, you meant absolutely as much to her as she did to you, and she never wanted you to forget that. Regardless of job position, Lisa didn’t herself as any more important or special than you were. After all, you were, well, you!

She also made sure that her flirting never made you uncomfortable. Of course you didn’t mind that aspect of her personality; whenever Lisa flirted with you, you always lit up slightly inside, and you didn’t mind that she did so with other people as well. It was part of her nature, and if you couldn’t handle that then you wouldn’t have fallen in love with her, or agreed to be her partner. Nevertheless you had to admit, though it made you slightly bashful, you secretly loved whenever Lisa would shower you with nicknames and slightly sappy lines whenever she ran into you. You never felt jealous of the other people around you, you knew that your heart was always with Lisa, just as hers was always with yours.

Still it was sometimes funny to see Lisa play up the aspects of herself that had sort of sprouted from rumors. Especially when the two of you ended up tracking down errant people who had “forgotten” to return their books. Seeing as the Knights’ library was essentially a rare book collection, these instances could be very serious. Yet it was hard not to laugh at the sometimes ridiculously threatening manner that Lisa would ask for the books back. Inevitably the two of you word burst into fits of helpless laughter by the end of the day.

Life can still get in the way however, and inevitably there would be low periods for the both of you. Whenever you felt slightly down Lisa would immediately notice.

Sitting you down, whipping up some Mysterious Bolognese – the only dish she was really good at cooking – and pouring you a cup of coffee – made with a generous 90% cream and sugar – Lisa would ask you about what was wrong, and offer to do whatever she could to help.

If it was a problem then she would immediately try to solve it. At the end of the day Lisa worked with information, and the logical part of her brain was always ready to kick in and try to push past any obstacle in the way, both for herself and for you. If it was something more emotional then the day wouldn’t go by without at least 42 compliments to you. And if you told her you were feeling overwhelmed by the praise then she would back off, limiting herself to one note in the front cover of the book you were reading every day.

Speaking of food, Lisa’s relationship with cooking was, shaky at best. It wasn’t that Lisa didn’t admire and enjoy cooking as a concept – honestly who doesn’t – it was that she had never had the time to really buckle down and learn. At the Academy the meals had been provided, and then once Lisa had joined the Knights of Favonius there was really no time to take a break and learn all the intricacies of cuisine.

If you knew how to cook then I hope you’re ready for a lot of cooking, because it was really either that or pasta or a trip to the Good Hunter. Not that Lisa would be upset if you couldn’t cook, I mean she couldn’t either. Then the two of you would usually take a trip to the Good Hunter or to some other lighter restaurants in Mondstadt, making sure to plan everything carefully.

Though she might get the idea of a cooking date. After all, spending time making something wonderful for your partner to eat, what’s not to love? Although if the two of you end up learning how to bake a perfect biscotti and yet are still unable to use a top stove, well, you tried.

Sometimes, when you fell asleep before Lisa, the librarian would stare at the walls of your room. Letting her eyes pass over the books and the papers, Lisa would think about how lucky she was. There was no one like you in the world, yet somehow you had met her and had fallen as deeply in love with her as she had of you. Though Lisa thought of herself as more practical than anything else, it was moments like those that she let out a small thanks to fate and to Barbatos. A thank you for the love that she got to share with you.

A love that grew more and more every day.  

[everlarkficexchange]

On the Hunt

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 39: Katniss has been bumping into the same stranger (Peeta) for months. When they get stuck in an unfortunate situation together, she decides to be the first to say hello. [submitted by @eiramrelyat / @taylerwrites]

Ratings/Warnings: T

The first time Katniss sees him, he takes her breath away. It’s from afar. He probably doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her, but her whole world tilts off its axis.

She’s not sure why he stands out to her. There’s nothing particularly unique about him. He’s not short or tall or big or small. He’s not drop-dead gorgeous or ugly like a troll. He doesn’t move like an athlete or sparkle with the magic of a performer. He appears normal in every sense of the word, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see how special he really is. At least she thinks he might be—if she had a chance to actually speak to him.

That doesn’t happen, though. She’s too far away when she sees him picking up a loaf of bread, and she can’t seem to move once he’s left her line of sight. She stays frozen in the freezer section (the irony!) for several minutes. Hopefully, everyone else thinks she’s considering her options in breakfast burritos, but she’s actually involved in an out of body experience that follows the young man from the back of the store to the registers, out the door, and into the parking lot where he must load his groceries into his car and drive away. His life is no different, but hers will never be the same.

It has to be because she’s lonely. It’s been a very long time since she’s been in a relationship. In fact, it’s been so long since she’s kissed a man, she kind of wonders if she’s forgotten how to do it. Katniss has never been that popular, but she’s enjoyed her fair share of attention. She tries really hard not to spiral out in the freezer section, but Christ on a cracker! Something about that specimen of manhood has made her question her life’s choices. Why hasn’t she run into him before now? Clearly, she’s been living wrong.

Except, she hasn’t. She’s done absolutely everything she knows to do to be a good person. She supports her little sister and sends money to her mother who needs every speck of help she can get. She has a best friend who’s been by her side since they both lost their fathers when they were barely teenagers. She helps out at a shelter and donates money to the food bank because she knows way too well how hunger can impact a person’s life. In other words, there’s no reason her weekly grocery trip should result in an upheaval to her world. It’s simply not fair, and she plans to file a complaint to who it is that runs fate and destiny. She has a bone to pick.

Somehow, she finds everything on her list and heads to the front of the store. When she gets there, she unloads her groceries and watches as the cashier scans each item. Digging into her wallet, she’s stunned to find she only has a twenty and the total keeps rising. Mortified, she watches as the number climbs to $34.15.

“I don’t have… I mean, can you take off the…”

Trying to figure out what she can live without until her next paycheck, she surveys the food and toiletries. Almost in tears, she stammers for a few seconds before the cashier speaks.

“Don’t worry. Another patron paid it forward. He left a twenty and asked that I use it if anyone needed help. Looks like you could use some.”

“I— I couldn’t. It’s not right.”

“The guy seemed pretty adamant that I only offer it to someone who could use a break. It seems like that could be you today.”

Katniss nodded slowly. “Do you have any idea who it is? I’d like to thank them.”

The cashier shook her head. “Young guy. Stocky, medium height, ashy blonde hair, blue eyes. Very polite. Named Peter, I think. Something like that.”

It’s got to be him. The description’s too similar to be a coincidence. It seems the guy that froze her in place with his looks is as kind and compassionate as he is special. Now, he’s even more intimidating.

She nods her thanks and takes the change and her purchases. The five in her pocket gives her a little joy, but the feeling of not having money still bothers her. Maybe it’s time to get a credit card. She’s been warned off them for so long that she never applied for one, but now, it might be something she should do. Maybe. It makes her nervous to think she could get in financial trouble with it. She’s been poor her entire life. It might be too tempting to resist.

When she makes it back to her apartment, her attempt to unpack her groceries is interrupted frequently by long pauses in which she fantasizes about finding the guy who’s rocked her world and given her daydreams about all the ways she needs to thank him (appropriately and not so much) for the rest of her life. It’s not unrealistic at all. Totally doable, she decides. After all, how hard can it be to find him again? They live in the same town.

****

The answer to that question is that it’s very hard. Difficult isn’t even the word to describe the problem she has in trying to find the Boy With the Bread, which is what she calls him even though he’s definitely an adult. The person she saw from afar was all man if the stretch of his shirt across broad shoulders was any indication. Still, the alliteration makes her smile, so she continues to refer to him as such.

It shouldn’t take so long, but it does. Months pass, and she wonders if she’s made it all up and imagined the creature that changed her life. She keeps her eyes open in public, scans the local news and social media sites, and seriously considers setting up an online dating site just to see if he’s looking for someone. She’s getting desperate, but then fate smiles on her again.

She’s sitting in a coffee shop, something she hardly ever does, when he walks in the door. She doesn’t normally have time for such a mundane, normal activity that other people her age seem to enjoy all the time. She’s usually working during the day, and she has no desire to consume copious amounts of caffeine after 5 pm when she gets off work. Today, though, she has time. She’s taken a half day to run errands and go to the dentist, and she needs the jolt the espresso will give her to survive her reduced shift.

He ducks through the doorway just as she’s taken a sip of her hot beverage, and she almost chokes on the liquid. He shakes the umbrella he’s holding just outside the door and shoves a riot of blonde curls off his forehead that have shrunken up and frizzed from the rain. It’s adorable.

He’s wearing an emerald Henley and faded jeans that hug all the right places. The sight of him freezes her in place, but that doesn’t stop her from tracking him as moves past her. She’s close enough to see his eyes are blue before he marches across the café and approaches a man sitting alone in the corner. They clasp hands and grin at each other, and the vision in green heads to the counter to order.

She’s dumbfounded. Here he is again after so long, and she can’t think of a single thing to say to him or how in the world to actually approach him without making her look absolutely insane. She racks her brain trying to think of an intelligent topic, but she’s jolted from that when the barista walks to the end of the bar and calls a name.

“Peeta! Chai Latte.”

That’s his name, she realizes, and it’s like the sun’s broken through thick, heavy clouds. It’s just unusual enough to fit him and still feel familiar. He smiles at the woman behind the bar and takes the cup from her. He ordered chai, and she files that information away for future reference. He might not like coffee, which seems important.

She’s pondering a trip to the bathroom just so she has an excuse to pass by him when she suddenly understands that he’s leaving. He and his friend are talking as they walk to the door, and she catches the sound of his voice.

“—we can change that, the numbers will—”

His words are swallowed by the rush of traffic outside, but that silky tone she hardly had a chance to listen to has already taken up residence in the part of her brain that creates unrealistic fantasies. She daydreams for longer than she should. In fact, it’s only the vibration of her phone against the table that reminds her she has to get to her job. What a chance encounter, but now she has a name to go with that face.

****

She’s tried to find him again. She’s googled and returned to the coffee shop when she’s had a spare minute or two. She’s asked around and continues to check dating sites. Nothing. She’s found absolutely nothing. Without a last name, she has very little idea how to find out anything else. Frustrated, she goes about her daily life with a weight on her shoulders that shouldn’t be there. He’s a stranger she’s glimpsed only a couple of times.

Frustrated and full of pent-up energy, she joins a gym. There’s nothing quite like working up a good sweat to ease tension and kickstart her brain, so she spends her free time running the track, lifting, and participating in every hot yoga class the establishment offers. After a month, she’s leaner and stronger than ever, but she hasn’t managed to come up with any ideas that might help her find the guy she desperately wants to thank for saving her when she wasn’t sure how she’d eat for a week.

She’s two laps into her normal ten when she glances down from the elevated track and spots a pickup game of three on three basketball on the far court. Three blonde men face off against three with dark hair, one of whom looks remarkably like her best friend Gale Hawthorne, who she hasn’t seen since he left town for a job almost a year ago. As she jogs closer to the court, she realizes it is him teamed up with his brothers. The blonde men look like siblings, too, but she doesn’t spare them much of a glance. She’s got more laps to go, and she doesn’t want to draw any attention to herself. Gale didn’t bother to tell her that he’s in town, and she’s a little miffed by that.

It’s another three passes by the court before it hits her that the blonde men look familiar. She puts on a burst of speed to get back to where she can see the men closeup and almost trips over her own feet when she spies him. It’s the guy. THE guy. The cashier had said Peter, and the barista had called him Peeta. She stops in her tracks and grabs the railing when someone bumps into her from behind.

“Watch it!” he yells as the jogger passes her. “You’re not supposed to stop on the track!”

She dismisses him with a wave and sprints to the nearest stairwell. If she can just catch them… She bounds down the stairs, three at a time, and bursts into a bustling walkway. She dodges and shoves her way free and streaks around the corner to find—

“Catnip! What are you doing here?”

“Gale!” Sweat drips down her forehead and stings her eyes. Cringing, she swipes her hand across her face and tries not to cry. “Where are—? I thought you were playing basketball.”

He throws her a bewildered look and nods like she’s lost it a little. “We were.”

“You’re done?”

“Yeah? We’d been at it for a while. Are you… Have you been watching me?”

Katniss rolls her eyes, although that’s not really very fair. She had noticed him. It’s not like that’s not the case. “Who were you playing with? I saw Vic and Rory, but the blonde guys… Who, er, who were they?”

The expression on his face would be priceless if she weren’t so desperate to find out the information. He looks like he’s swallowed something very, very distasteful, and she tries hard not to snort with laughter.

“Why?”

She takes in his narrowed eyes and realizes she’s going to have to lie to get what she wants. Part of the reason they haven’t been as close since he left town is due to his sudden confessions of feelings toward her. She’d let him down easy, but things have been strained since then. There’s no need to rub that in his face when all she wants is to find out about Peeta. With a straight face and innocent eyes, she explains, “I think one of them door dinged my car a couple of weeks ago. The gym won’t give out membership information, but if you know who they are… Well, I’d be really grateful, Gale.”

He falls for it when she bats her eyelashes at him. She should feel terrible, but all’s fair in love and basketball. Of all people, Gale should want her to be happy, no matter if that means she’s interested in someone else or not. She’s no damsel in distress, unless she can’t pay for her groceries or something. However, her simpering works, and that’s really what she needs.

“Mellark is the last name. They all have bread names. It’s weird.”

She rolls the name around in her head for a bit. Peeta Mellark. It’s a nice solid name, and now she has more information to help her figure out how to find him. Almost giddy with victory, she stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses Gale’s cheek in gratitude. Backing away before he can reciprocate, she hears him as the distance widens between them.

“Do you want to grab dinner sometime? Maybe?”

“Sorry, Gale! Got to go. Really good to see you!”

With that, she turns her back and slips down the hall to the women’s locker room. She doesn’t bother to shower before grabbing her bag and heading to her car. She’s barely closed the door before she’s on her phone and typing in the name Peeta Mellark. She has a thank you to deliver.

****

Surprisingly, it’s not much easier to find him now that she knows his full name. She unveils a lot of information about his family, but not him. Apparently, they own a few local bakeries that she tries out and loves. Still, Peeta’s family is not the same thing as Peeta, who is remarkably absent from social media and with no online presence. She’s willing to admit, she got cocky, and now she can’t figure out how to recover from it.

“Where the hell is he?” she mutters as she comes up empty. Again.

Frustrated, she runs over all the data she’s gathered about him. He’s kind, compassionate, and thoughtful; all of those qualities were on display at the grocery store. He drinks tea and has a very good-looking friend who he talks to about numbers; that she learned at the coffee shop. He’s athletic and has two brothers he likes well enough to exercise with them; that information, and his last name, came from the gym. It should be enough to go on. It’s not.

She’s at home on her couch and paying bills when it suddenly hits her that she may never see this guy again. Peeta Mellark seems to be a figment of her imagination for all the good it’s done to try to find him. That and the small number in her bank account are both so unpleasant that she decides she’s going to have to break down and do something she’s been avoiding and delaying for a very long time. She’s going to have to open a line of credit. She’ll only use it for emergencies, but she can’t rely on the kindness of strangers to bail her out the next time she doesn’t have money for groceries, let alone car maintenance or an unforeseen medical crisis. It’s been months since Peeta saved her, but the humiliation of not being able to take care of herself still hasn’t faded. Before she can change her mind, she grabs her purse and heads to the bank. The time is now.

“Can I help you?” A bubbly blonde teller named Delly asks, and Katniss takes a deep breath to fortify herself.

“I’d like to open a line of credit. Can I talk to someone about that?”

“Sure!” she practically squeals. “Let me just call someone to help you.”

She’s led down the hallway and past a few desks to a small office. Once ushered inside, she sits and raises her eyes to view the person across from her.

“Oh…”

The man before her is stunning—green eyes, bronze hair, a swimmer’s build. It’s the guy’s—Peeta’s—friend, the one he was with at the coffee shop.

“Ms. Everdeen. I’m Finnick Odair. Want some sugar?” he asks and nudges a candy bowl toward her.

“No, I’m fi—.”

“Hey, Finn. Can you— Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were with a customer.”

She jerks at the sound of his voice. Peeta Mellark is standing in the doorway, and her heart is in her throat. She has a sudden flashback of the coffee shop, when the two of them walked past her discussing numbers… Now, it all makes sense. They work at a bank together. Of course they do. Peeta turns to leave, and she calls out.

“Wait! Stay with me.”

She claps her hands over her mouth and wills herself not to blush, but it’s no use. She’s just asked a perfect stranger to stay with her, and her invitation sounds much more intimate than she means it to. He must think she’s insane. Maybe she actually is. She pushes down a sudden urge to flee the situation and escape to the safety of her apartment.

This is out of her wheelhouse. Shy, introverted, and intensely private, Katniss worries the end of her braid and bites her lip. Every instinct she has tells her to run, but the temptation of him before her is too great. Rising, she crosses to him and holds out her hand.

“Hi. My name is Katniss. You saved my life once, and I’ve been on the hunt to find you for months. Thank you.”

Peeta and his friend exchange looks, and she fights the urge to shrivel back into herself. Finally, he looks directly at her and takes her palm in his. With a smile so disarming she nearly faints, he answers.

“Peeta Mellark. It’s nice to meet you.”

The touch of his hand on hers melts her insides. She dreads when she finally has to let go, but maybe she won’t have to. With a shy smile, she cocks out her hip and looks up at him through long lashes. Her flirting may be a disaster, but it’s all she’s got.

“It’s so nice to meet you, too.”

The flicker in his eyes makes her knees weak. An hour later, she’s left the bank with a line of credit, a phone number, and a dinner date. The hunt is finally over.

[deancasgreenblue]

Suptober 05: Nostalgia

Title: Ten Years Later

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Words: 2758

AO3 Link.

When Dean saw Castiel again, it all came back to him. Like a movie reel playing in his mind. God, how long had it been? Ten years? They’d been eighteen the last time they’d talked. Suddenly, all Dean could think about was those long Kansas summers on the bed of Castiel’s pickup truck, stargazing. The many meals they shared together at Judy’s diner. And the one time they’d kissed, the night before Castiel moved away to New York for college.

The kiss had been a surprise to Dean, but a good one. A great one. They’d been friends since they were kids, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn’t harbored feelings for Castiel. But he didn’t think they’d ever cross that line, no matter how much Dean wanted to. It was Castiel who had snuck into Dean’s bedroom window at midnight, wanting to say goodbye before his morning flight.

Dean hated goodbyes. He’d been hoping they could skip theirs. But Castiel was stubborn, and he refused to leave without a proper one. So, he’d showed up, and they’d sat on Dean’s bed for a while, just talking about their hopes for the future. Castiel wanted to be a prosecutor. He had big dreams. Dean? He wanted to teach high school. English, because he loved Vonnegut. But Dean wasn’t going to move away from home. He was staying put. He’d realized that this was probably the last time he’d ever see Castiel. They’d promised they’d stay in touch, but Dean knew how these things worked. People lost touch eventually. And that was exactly what happened with them.

At first, they’d kept in touch during college. Their calls decreased after the first two years, and by the fourth year, Dean only got an email to congratulate him on graduating, and Dean replied to congratulate Castiel in return. When Dean got a job at Lawrence High School, Castiel was just a nice memory from his past. Dean thought about Castiel often, even though they’d lost touch. Castiel had been important to him, but the long-distance ruined their friendship, and whatever could have been between them.

Dean had gone on to date many women and men, and he assumed Castiel had done the same. His life was good in Kansas. Quiet, and sometimes lonely, but good. Seeing Castiel at Judy’s diner now, though, made Dean feel like something was definitely missing in his life. Maybe it was his old friend.

Castiel hadn’t seen Dean yet. He was sitting at a booth by the window, alone. Dean was sitting a few booths over. From here, he could see the back of Castiel’s head. His hair was dark and messy, like always. But he was older now. He had a five o’clock shadow that made him look scruffy. It suited him. Dean wondered if he should go up to him, start up a conversation, see if Castiel still remembered him. How long had it been since they last spoke? Four, five years? Yeah, it had been about that long. Dean still remembered that final email, the one he never replied to.

Hello, Dean,

It’s good to hear you’re still teaching. I’ve been doing well at work myself. I made partner. You should come up to New York and visit me one of these days. I miss you.

Castiel.

Dean hadn’t thought the offer was serious. And even if it was, Dean didn’t want to disrupt Castiel’s life in New York. He assumed he was dating someone, since Dean had been dating Lisa at the time. Besides, Dean wouldn’t get on a plane even if someone paid him to. He had considered taking a road trip in his trusty Impala, but he never dared to do it. Too much time had passed, anyway.

A few minutes went by, and Dean had done nothing but reminisce about the past from his seat, memorizing the back of Castiel’s head. He sipped his sweet tea and then brushed his lower lip with the tip of his thumb. Castiel hadn’t been his first kiss, but he had been the first kiss he most remembered. Sparks flew the moment their lips touched. They’d kissed on Dean’s bed for what felt like a small eternity, and then Castiel smiled and whispered goodbye before he slipped out of his bedroom window.

Dean knew that if he went up to Castiel that night, he’d give up that perfect goodbye as his last face-to-face memory with his friend. But curiosity was killing him. He wanted to know what Castiel was doing back in town all these years later. He wanted to know if he’d even thought about paying Dean a visit while he was here.

So, with a final sip of his tea, Dean worked up the courage to get up, and approach Castiel at his booth. Dean couldn’t believe how sweaty his hands were. Hell, he was so nervous he could barely get any words out.

Dean cleared his throat. “You’re back.”

Castiel, who had been looking out the window, immediately turned to look at him. His eyes were just as piercing and blue as Dean remembered. The grin that he gave Dean lit up the entire room. “Oh my God, Dean.” He was out of his seat in no time, pulling Dean into his arms, squeezing him tight.

Dean hugged Castiel back, ruffling his hair before he pulled away. “You mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. Have a seat. Are you hungry? I just ordered a burger. I’ve never been able to find a burger just as good in all my time away.”

“I’ll eat with you. I got here a few minutes before you did.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck before slipping into the seat across from Castiel. “I noticed you come in, but you didn’t see me.”

Castiel shook his head, still grinning. “No, I was starving. I didn’t pay much attention to anything other than the menu.” He chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re here. I just arrived in town. If I wasn’t so hungry, I would have stopped to visit you first.”

“You don’t know where I live, do you?”

Castiel blushed, looking down slightly before his gaze met Dean’s again. “I reached out to Sam before my flight here and asked for your address. I wanted to surprise you.”

Dean couldn’t believe that. So, Castiel did still remember him enough to want to visit him. “You did? Well, consider me surprised, Cas. I didn’t expect to see you here of all places. Not after all these years.”

Castiel leaned forward. “Well, since you never visited me, I figured I should visit you.”

Dean felt suddenly guilty for having ignored Castiel’s last email. Maybe he had been serious about Dean visiting him. Maybe Dean should have taken that road trip after all. “Well, you’re here now. Tell me, what’s new with you? What have you been up to all these years?”

Castiel hesitated. “I…I got married.”

Dean’s stomach sunk at the news, but he kept his smile in place. “When?”

“A few years ago. Her name is Daphne.”

Dean nodded, knowing his smile must look as fake as it was. “Where is she?”

“She’s in New York.” Castiel sighed. “We’re getting divorced.”

“Oh.” Dean didn’t realize how much the news had hit him until he could finally breathe again. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel waved a hand. “Don’t be. That marriage was doomed from the start.” He chuckled. “We actually got married in Vegas when I was there on a work trip. We’d been dating for a few months, and I had invited her along. One thing led to another, we got drunk, and I proposed to her. It was so stupid. I’m surprised we stayed married this long. But now that that chapter of my life is over, I felt I needed a change of scenery.”

“And now you’re here.”

Castiel nodded. “And now I’m here.” His eyes skimmed Dean up and down. “I have to say, you look really good, Dean. What’s new with you? I haven’t heard from you in so long.”

“I know. Sorry about that. I guess I’m the one who stopped answering emails.”

“Yeah, you were,” Castiel said, and Dean didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice.

At that time, Castiel’s burger arrived, and Dean placed his order, even though he wasn’t really hungry anymore.

“I’ll wait for you to eat,” Castiel said.

“But you’re hungry. Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

Dean chuckled. “I’m sure. Have at it.”

Castiel took a bite of his burger, licking his lips afterwards. Dean didn’t miss the action. “What about you, Dean? Are you seeing anybody?”

Dean sighed. “No, I’m very single at the moment.”

Castiel wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Good to know.”

“Is it?” Was Castiel still interested in Dean? The thought made Dean’s heart thump harder than ever before.

“Yes, it’s good to know more about you. I want to catch up. Tell me everything.”

So, Dean told Castiel about his life. He talked in length about how much he loved his job, and the road trips he’d been on, and the new friends he’d made. Castiel listened intently, only interrupting when he wanted more information. Dean even told Castiel about some of the more serious relationships he’d been in, and it wasn’t awkward at all.

“Anyway, I’ve rambled on way too long now,” Dean said. “You didn’t get to say much.”

Castiel smiled. “I like listening to you speak.”

Dean shifted on his seat. “What are you doing after this? We could go out for beers, if you have time.”

Castiel sipped his drink. “I don’t have anything going on. I’m all yours.”

Well, Dean liked the sound of that.

After paying for the tab—Castiel’s treat—they went to the Roadhouse for beers. They were immediately greeted by Ellen, who hugged Castiel and offered him a free beer.

“Why don’t I get a free beer?” Dean asked. “I thought you liked me, Ellen.”

“’Cause you haven’t disappeared for ten years,” Ellen said. “When you do, come claim your free beer.”

“Thank you, Ellen,” Castiel said, taking his beer.

Dean rolled his eyes, pulling Castiel to an empty table. “You’re back for one day and you’re already everyone’s favorite.”

Castiel laughed. “Hey, don’t be jealous just because I’m charming.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Hey, remember that time when we stole your dad’s six pack and drank it in my basement?”

Castiel widened his eyes. “Of course I remember. That was both of our first drink.”

Dean nodded, smiling down at his beer. “Yeah, it was. We got a tipsy with those beers.”

Castiel chuckled. “We really couldn’t hold our liquor back then.”

“Those were the days.”

“They were amazing days.” Castiel placed a hand to Dean’s back, sliding it down to the small of his back. It sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. “Do you remember that night we said goodbye, Dean? A million years ago?”

Dean sipped his beer. “How could I forget?”

Castiel leaned closer, his hand never moving. “Did you ever wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t left?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve wondered all the time, but you did leave, and we can’t change what happened.”

Castiel took another sip of his beer before leaning to whisper in Dean’s ear, “Do you ever think about that kiss?”

Dean looked up at Castiel, meeting his blue gaze. It was warm and inviting. Dean’s heart was racing. “Yeah, Cas, I do.”

“Me too. All the damned time.” Castiel licked his lips. “I always wondered if you still thought about me, as much as I thought about you.” He frowned. “Because, Dean, your silence was loud. I thought you’d simply forgotten me.”

“No, Cas, I didn’t forget you. I could never forget you. I just didn’t think you really wanted me to disrupt your life in New York.”

“Dean, you could never have disrupted my life. I wanted you there, with me. I wanted to see you again.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “You did?”

“Of course I did. I just—I missed you. I can’t believe we didn’t see each other for ten years, Dean. But seeing you again, it’s brought everything back. All the memories, all the…all the feelings.”

Dean swallowed. “Really?”

“Yes,” Castiel breathed. He moved his hand up to Dean’s shoulder. “Tell me, Dean, am I alone in this? Or do you feel the same way too?”

Dean could barely hear Castiel through the pounding in his head from how loud his heart was beating. “I feel the same way too.”

Castiel beamed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Do you want to come back to my place? I’d really like to be alone with you right now.”

“I’d like that too.”

“Then let’s go.”

Castiel downed the rest of his beer, and so did Dean, more for the courage than for anything else. And then Dean drove them back to his place in his Impala. It was a quiet, uneventful drive, except for when Castiel reached over and put a hand on Dean’s thigh and left it there the whole ride. Dean turned to glance at him, giving him a smile.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Dean said. “You. Me. After all these years.”

“No one ever measured up to you, Dean. Not once.”

What was Dean supposed to say to that? “I think I love you.”

Castiel didn’t miss a beat. “I love you too, Dean.”

Dean hit his steering wheel. “God, we wasted so much time.”

“We did, but I’m ready to make up for it now.”

Dean pulled into his driveway and unbuckled his seatbelt, but he didn’t get out of the car. “Before we do this, Cas, we should discuss logistics.”

“What do you mean?”

“You still live in New York, and I still live here. If we do this, if we start something up, we’ll still have the long-distance issue. We didn’t survive it before. What makes you think we’ll survive it this time?”

Castiel squeezed Dean’s thigh. “I’ll move. This city could use a prosecutor, I’m sure.”

Dean widened his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“I’m serious, Dean. I’ve lived in New York for so long, and I’ve been happy, but there was always something missing. You. It was you. I’m willing to give up everything for you.”

“What if you resent me down the road?”

“How could I? This is my decision, not yours. I chose to come back. I chose to make a move on you. I chose to move here. I chose you. In every way possible.”

“You really know how make me weak in the knees, man.”

Castiel chuckled. “Can we go inside now?”

“Yeah.”

They walked into Dean’s house, and just as Dean was about to show Castiel around, he found himself shoved against his door, hands intertwined with Castiel, who was holding them above Dean’s head.

“I’ve waited to kiss you for ten years,” Castiel whispered, nose brushing Dean’s.

“Me too,” Dean whispered back. “So you better hurry up and do it.”

Castiel smirked before closing the gap between them. The first kiss was chaste, similar to their first kiss a decade ago. But then it picked up speed, urgency, with open mouths and biting teeth. They kissed like they had just discovered how good kissing felt. As soon as Castiel let go of Dean’s hands, Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck, drawing him closer. Meanwhile, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, his hands on the small of his back again.

“I remember you so well,” Castiel said against Dean’s lips. “You’re carved in my memory.”

“I’m glad you didn’t forget me.”

Castiel kissed him again, softer this time, but just as passionately. “How could I when you kiss like this?”

“I’m so glad you came back, Cas. And I’m sorry I never went to visit you. If I had known how you felt, I would have done more to stay in touch.”

“How could you not know how I feel about you? As a teenager, all I did was follow you around like a lost puppy. I’m the one who kissed you the first time. I wasn’t going to leave without you knowing how I felt. And I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t know,” Dean said. “I thought the kiss was just a goodbye kiss. I didn’t think it meant that much to you.”

“It meant the world to me, Dean. You mean the world to me.”

Dean kissed his forehead. “Now I know.”

[snowgoldwaylon]

Ring of Fire - Alex Mason X Reader

Mason saves you from an apartment fire. Are you happy? No. But, did you just meet a very attractive man? Yes.

TW: Strong language, fire, eventual fluff!

"Alex Mason! Meet me in my office please!' Is what Mason heard after a long, hard, and hot training.

Mason felt anxiety by the way his drill sergeant spoke to him like that. So, Mason hauled ass to the office, and stood professionally until the drill sergeant finally came in.

"Ma'am" Mason said with confidence, in attention.

"At ease Lieutenant. Now, take a seat. I have something to discuss with you." She said, sitting down and pulling a file out.

Mason took a seat, and watched her pull a thick, yellowish file from her desk. She opened it and layed out several pieces of paper in front of Mason so he could see everything. He took a closer look and saw something for the local fire department, a look of confusion clouded his face.

"Lieutenant Mason, you are being asked to take part in giving a hand to the Fair Banks Fire Department. Their chief has been layed off for a while due to a recent building fire, and they need men. And you just so happen to be the perfect candidate for helping out!" The drill sergeant said, pulling out a cigarette.

Mason was hesitant, he didn't know how to feel. He was afraid that he might fuck up and get someone hurt. Or worse, killed. But, he already worked in that part of the field. One mistake and it means death.

"Drill Sergeant Rivers, I don't have the proper training for this kind of thing. So why am I being picked?" He questioned.

She hit her cigarette and exhaled. She shot a glaring look back at him, while reaching for a pen nearby.

"Mason, they wouldn't just send you in with no training. They are offering on the job skills training and certification. You provide won't even be working there for very long anyways, they just need help until the Chief comes back. So that means, you'll be chief Alex Mason for a whole three months!" Rivers spoke, ashing her cigarette.

Rivers slid him a pen, and gave a devious smile. She pointed to the words on the contract as she spoke.

"We'll still be paying what you make here hourly, and they will also pay you for the position. You'll receive a work vehicle, and housing options if you are interested. But, if you will, please sign here, and here. And then finally, date this at the bottom."

Mason sighed, and grabbed the pen.

"I really hope this isn't a stupid idea, Drill Sergeant Rivers. I'll still have my position here in the Marines, right?" Mason asked.

"Of course, Lieutenant. You are the best of the best. Besides, I don't think Frank would last very long without you." She said with a chuckle.

Mason signed the papers, and slid them back over to Rivers. She quickly and carefully tucked them away safely into the left pocket of the folder, and set it off to the side.

"Thank you, Mason. The Fire Department is going to welcome you with open arms, and everyone is going to greatly appreciate what you are doing. Now, why don't you get on out of here and head over to the Fire Department. The director is anticipating your arrival at 0700 hours. You are dismissed."

Mason stood up, and quickly saluted Rivers. He turned on his heel, and gathered his things. Woods come up to him and patted his back. Mason looked back at Frank.

"Man, what was that about? Sounded like you were in some hot ass water. Did she find out about last weeks breakout?" Woods asked with a smirk.

Mason slapped him, and told him to stay quiet. Mason rolled his eyes, and started walking. Woods followed close.

"No, she didn't. I actually have gotten assigned to something new all together, but just for 6 months. So it looks like you'll be a lone wolf until I get back." Mason said.

"Wait, where in the fuck are you going? And when the hell are you comin' back??" Frank asked as they stepped into the elevator.

Mason clicked up, and the doors shut. It took them up to ground parking.

"I'm filling in for a Fire Chief for a while, I got personally hand picked for the job is what I got told."

"Well brother, you can't argue with that. We are still gonna have boys night on Friday's, right?" Frank asked, before getting out at where the elevator stopped.

Mason laughed, and nodded.

"Of course man, as always. Bring a 30 pack this time!" He shouted to Frank as the door closed.

"My ass!" Frank called out.

Mason patiently waited as it took him up. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. He walked to his pickup truck and got in. He slammed his door shut and laid his head back onto his seat.

'I hope I don't fuck up.' Was all he repeated to himself.

Months later......

Mason was heading to his office with a newly made friend, Dixon. Dixon was a higher up who worked with everyone, so he frequented Mason. They had coffee in hand, and were ready for safety reports.

"Oh shit, Dix. Do you remember any information on the structure at the controlled burn on the corner of Euclid and Odin we did? I need details for my JHA but I can't recall shit for some fucked reason." Mason asked as they both sat down.

"I can tell you that it had 5 stories, and over 50 apartments in it. Oh, it stood next to Crane Run Bakery. The ignition was faulty wiring, right?" Dixon responded.

"No, it was a gas line pipe. The faulty wiring happened at that bowling alley on Curtis Avenue. But thank you, hopefully I can get this JHA filled out how I should!" Mason said.

Dixon went on with Mason for about 30 minutes about baseball and football. Mason filled out his paperwork, ordered new parts for gear and trucks, and inspected everything with a fine tooth comb. It was a normal night shift for the fire crew, until the alarm system began to wail.

"We have a structure fire on Linden Ave, at 26435 Linden. Possible civilians trapped." Dispatch called through the speakers.

Within minutes, the whole shift was suited up and already in the truck and headed Northbound. Mason was behind the wheel, lights and sirens at full blast. The roads were dead at this time, minus the few cars that happened to be out at 2 AM.

"Dispatch, tell me what we're looking at. I have another truck enroute to said location, and about three ambulances. How high are flames?" Mason asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Dispatch here, we have flames about 20 feet up and rising. Recommend you get here quick."

"10-4." Mason responded.

They reached the fire within minutes. When they pulled up the fire was quickly engulfing anything in it's way. Mason knew what needed to be done. But right now, they needed a buidling sweep for any possible trapped people.

"Dixon, set up a crew to stay on hoses, bring about four out and hookup. My team, your with me! We are going in!" Mason said.

Mason put on his face gear, and quickly looked around for a way in. He spotted a perfect way in through a safe looking way. He quickly pointed his team that direction, and headed in. He always made sure to go ahead of his crew so he could determine what was happening.

He got in, midst the hot heat, heavy flames, and the small mist screen of water he'd feel periodically. He lead the way, and began to check every corner and possible place to hide he could. They swept the buidling for a grand total of 30 minutes before Mason determined it was clear.

"Head back everyone. Everything is clear, no indication of anyone." Mason said through the radio.

Everyone headed outside, Mason being left so he could check more. By now, the flames were out. The only thing left was smoking ruble and hot ashes. Mason carefully looked around, and looked even closer at a piece of burnt wood that was beginning to move.

Without thinking, he pulled it back, and revealed a small door that had shut, but by either luck or circumstance, hadn't been burned. Mason soon heard pounding on the metal door, and he went to open it. But it was behind blocked by something.

He struggled to open it completely, the pounding was now more frequent. He pulled with all his might, but it wouldn't budge. He could hear the sounds of a female crying, and begging for the door to be opened. Mason's adrenaline kicked in at this moment.

"I found a live one! Bring in a large ax for me, this damn for isn't opening!" Mason shouted into the radio.

"Miss, I'm going to need you to step away as far as you can from the door! We are going to cut it open! Shield your face until I get you!" Mason yelled.

He took out his small ax, and began to chop away at the hinges. But, the small ax could stand no chance against the hard metal. Instead, he quickly turned and saw Dixon with the industrial ax. He took it, and with brute strength, he swung done with control and accuracy.

The hinges slowly began to break away, until finally the door popped right off. Mason gave the ax back, and quickly threw the door off. He looked back down inside, and saw a girl about his age, coughing her lungs out. He wasted no time, and held his hand out.

She took it, and Mason lifted her out. He quickly adjusted her so she'd be against his back, to where he kept a good grip on her and carried her out. She was covered in black ash and soot, and was damp with water and sweat from the heat.

Once they were out, Mason quickly sat the girl on the gurney and took his respirator off. He secured it around her face, and up to her mouth and nose. The fresh oxygen would help her with breathing, seeing as if her lungs just went through extreme stress.

"Are you alright? Is there anybody else down in that basement?" Mason asked once her breathing returned to normal.

She looked at him, and slipped the mask off.

"No, it was just me. I was just trying to do my laundry for work, and that's when the door slammed shut and I couldn't get out....."

Mason felt a pang in his heart for this beautiful lady.

"Well, you are alright now. We are going to have EMS check you out, and ride you to the hospital to run standard tests." Mason said, giving a smile.

He took his respirator back and turned on his heels. He walked away to regroup with his crew, and Dixon. They cleaned up best they could, and headed back to the station for a shower and change of clothes.

Months After....

Mason sat in the town sqaure, drinking a coffee in his uniform. He was sat on one of the square benches, reading the paper as he waited on Woods. It was Friday, they were going to play poker after a long, exhausting week.

"Excuse me, sir? May I sit with you?" A voice said.

Mason looked up from his paper, and confusion hit him. A familiar looking face flooded his view, but he just couldn't place it. Her face had small bandaids, and a few purple bruises.

"Well, of course. Do I know you?" He questioned.

She sat down, only then did Mason notice the green box in her beat up hands.

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N, you actually saved my life in a fire on Linden street, I talked to a man named Dixon at the fire house to where I could find you.....I have something for you here." She said, handing it to him.

"No Miss, I can't take that. I was just doing my job, I don't need a reward. Seeing you alive and breathing is reward enough." Mason said.

She pushed the small box towards him. The smile on her face was warm, and made Mason feel butterflies.

"Please, I insist." Was all she said.

Mason took the box and opened the lid. Inside was a beautifully made chocolate cake, all kinds of different snacks, and a check of $15,000 dollars.

"Miss, no, I can't. This is way too much money, I will not take it." Mason said, putting it back.

"Please sir, I don't mind. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. It would mean so much to me. If anything, please donate it to your firehouse." Y/N said.

"I will do just that then. We've been needing new parts for months...."

Mason looked back up at Y/N, and smiled.

"I'm Alex Mason by the way, I'm glad to see you are recovering well. Maybe I could take you to dinner sometimes?" He asked slyly.

You chuckled, and nodded.

"Of course, I'd love that.

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