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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 4 years ago

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I’m On Fire [Chapter 2]

With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Spencer start to put a plan together.

A/N: I’ve got a head cold at the mo’ but I had to get a covid test just in case so I’m not allowed leave my room till I get the results! So enjoy a bonus chapter while I wallow on my own for like 36 hours :( On a positive note, thank you guys all so much for the response to chapter 1 I really didn’t see that coming! I’ve tagged everyone who asked, let me know if you wanna be added

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: Cursing, some NSFW language/themes

Word Count: 6.1k

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"Are you coming up or what?"

The question was still ringing in my ears. It caught me completely off guard. 'Up' as in up to Spencer's apartment? Where he lived? I knew he lived somewhere in theory, just like I knew deep down that he wasn't made in a test tube.

Without noticing I've undone my seatbelt and I'm hopping out of the car, following him around to the front door. I guess I am coming up.

Spencer's apartment is more cosy than I thought it was going to be. It's warm and lived in. It's not big, but I think that might be what makes it homely. Something about the way he behaves had me thinking it would be fully decked out in stainless steel or glass or something. But it wasn't pristine, it was messy.

There were books bursting from the shelves that lined the walls of the apartment, along with books laid open over nearly every surface in the place, it looked like he was in the middle of reading all of them, and honestly, I didn't doubt it. Maybe I'd misjudged him. He even had some photos of what looked like his family, and maybe friends, even some of the BAU, lining his walls or propped up on his mantle. He had little trinkets and souvenirs on his shelves too, evidence that he'd been around the country for reasons other than a case. I would never admit it to him but there was a real charm to the place.

Once we got inside he took off his bag and suit jacket, tossing them on the desk just inside of the door. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, and he seemed to pick up on my awkward energy.

"You can make yourself at home" he said, his confident streak remaining. I had no idea what to do with that. What would even make me comfortable in Spencer Reid's apartment? I took a seat on his sofa and just sat with my hands resting in my lap. Really not even sure where I should look without feeling like I was invading his privacy. Even though I wanted to. I think it was morbid curiosity, looking for clues on who this man might actually be outside of the BAU. What I really wanted to do was stand up and walk around, soaking in every bit if this place as if it would help me decipher our messy relationship.

He returned to the living room a few moments later, two mismatched mugs in his hands. He places one in front of me on the coffee table. I pick it up and take a sip. It's lemon and ginger, how did he know what kind of tea I liked? I held the mug in my hands inhaling the steam in an effort to relax. When I look up he's watching me, arms folded across his chest.

"So, how does this thing work. What's the game plan?" I honestly have no real idea. This evening really got away from me, I was still expecting to snap out of it and wake up in my bed at any moment.

"Well I can't say I've ever been in a Sandra Bullock movie before either so this is uncharted territory for me too" I say with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension. Even a little. I can see him crack a small smile but hides it almost instantly, his face hardening again.

"My sister, Margot, she's getting married in like 4 months." I can feel myself tense and I shake out my shoulders, I have to remind myself that he's agreed to this already, "Fuck it, I'm just going to be honest with you. My Mom's mostly freaked out that I'm too attached to this job and that I'll just never find someone again." I shouldn't have said again, fuck. I hope he didn't pick up on that. Who am I kidding. "Even though, I'm not sure I care if I do or don't?" he doesn't say anything, like he's waiting for me to continue. I know I've shared a little too much already but I keep going.

"Margot's 2 years younger than me, I introduced her to her fiancé Philip, we met in college, he's a sweetheart. But since they've gotten engaged Mom's gotten exponentially weirder. I think she's convinced I'm fully going to die alone, as if that would be the worst thing that could ever happen? Anyway, she's been trying to auction me off to all these guys, using this wedding as an excuse. I'm not sure how much of that phone call you actually heard earlier but Mom was trying to sell me on this guy, David, and I just… snapped." I look up at Spencer and he unfolds his arms, leaning in ever so slightly coaxing the story out of me.

"David, he uh, he worked for my father for a while back in high school, filing documents and stuff, busy work mostly. He used to make out with me when he was at our house after school, but then he'd ignore me in the halls the next morning. I know it's because I was a pariah back then or something but I didn't want to think about it today and I just got worked up. I shouldn't have let on that you were my date, I was just going to ask if I could bring Garcia or something, and I'm sorry." I cover my face in my hands, "I'm insane, you can back out if you want to."

I can hear him move from his spot on the opposite side of the sofa, he takes my wrists and gently pulls my hands from my face. He looks into my eyes, "I'm in this now Y/N, what do you need me to do?" he asks, and there's a genuine earnest in his voice that I think I've only ever heard a handful of times. And it's never been directed at me.

"Okay, well we've got a few months before you ha–, wait, fuck!" I throw my head back, there's already a complication, "shit" I curse under my breath. His eyebrows knit together, sitting upright.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I forgot about my Mom's 50th, it's next month. They've got this whole huge party planned back home in upstate New York. I've gotta go and they'll probably want to meet you, or they're gonna have a load of questions for me at least. I can try and get you out of it I'm sure"

He gets that cocky look again, he shakes his head "I don't know, I've always liked a bit of competition" he reclines back into his corner of the sofa, taking a satisfied sip from his own mug before speaking again. "You know, if I've got to learn enough to pass as your boyfriend in a month, surely that means you've got to learn enough to pass as my girlfriend within the month, no?"

Oh god. What have I done, why didn't I think this far ahead. "I mean, yeah I guess you're right." I had to remember he was doing me a favor. I had to get over myself. "Okay, if you're sure you're up for that?" I ask, and he nods, and I think he looks excited, or maybe he just finds the whole situation funny.

"If anyone's up for the competition it's you" he says, and I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a dig but I nod in agreement.

He takes another sip of his tea, collected and relaxed. I can't help but notice how at ease he is when he's in his own surroundings. I'm so used to seeing him sitting at a desk surrounded by paperwork, or combing through file after file in the make-shift office in a small-town police station, usually flustered or anxious, or antagonizing me whenever he wasn’t. This was a different Spencer. Completely in control, at ease.

"Alright, shall we get started then, we can't really afford to waste any time can we?" he was actually sort of right, so I nodded. It was only now occurring to me that I'd have to share parts of my personal life with him if I wanted this plan to work. We already knew the basics about each other, I'd read his file when I started at the BAU, I'd read everyones. And I feel like it was safe to presume he'd done the same.

His eyes bore directly into mine as he leaned forward, I think he was enjoying how uncomfortable I must've looked.

"How about I ask you some rapid-fire questions and you have to answer 'em?" he asks, and it's as good of a plan as any, and I can't think of any other suggestions, so I nod.

"Okay, shoot." I say, unsure and nervous, so I brace myself. I'm just grateful that he's making my life easier rather than harder for what feels like the first time since I met him.

I really should've known better.

He leans in, "So Y/N, first question, when did you lose your virginity?"

I almost choke on the mouthful of tea I just took, that can't be what he just asked, and he looks like he's savoring my shocked expression.

"I uh, I don't think you need to know that?" is all I can get out.

"Really? You think that's something your boyfriend wouldn't know about you?" he's right, but I didn't want to admit it outright.

"I feel like I sort of already hinted. It was that same guy David, I was 18, he was 19. We had sex on the couch while my parents went out one evening. I kept my bra on the whole time, he came, I didn't. It was all very standard stuff." I wasn't sure what compelled me to add that last part. I think I was giving in to the open honestly thing. "So what about you Doc?" I challenged.

He didn't seem embarrassed, or even shy. "I must've bloomed little later than you" he admits with a soft chuckle, "Vivian Stewart, I was 21, she was too. It was the last semester of my last PhD and I figured I must be missing out on something. And I sure was" he smirks to himself. "I came, she did too, 3 times. I did a lot of research ahead of time" he mirrored my story and I rolled my eyes. It was hard not to feel a little impressed but I tried with everything I had to stifle it so he couldn't tell. I wish it didn't make me feel something but it did. I gulp down the mouthful of tea that's been sitting in my throat.

I have to shake myself back to reality. I can't give him the satisfaction of throwing me. "My turn." I command, "When was your last relationship Dr. Reid?" I ask, "I mean like, serious one, not like hook-up" I clarify before he can ask. He thinks on it for a moment.

"I'm not sure what you classify as fully serious, but I guess it was this girl, Rebecca, we dated for a while when I first joined the BAU but it didn't work out. What about you?" he flips it back.

"So that was what, like 6-ish years ago?" I ask, he just nods.

"Mine was like 3 years ago now I think. I met this guy Nathan on my first week of college, we dated for like 4 years. He moved here for me when I got accepted by the BAU." I had to stop myself from delving into the detail. It was a long time ago now but it still hurt. "Long story short, the hours were demanding and they got in the way more than I would've liked. We ended up splitting a couple months after I got the job." I tried to play it off like it wasn't one of the more devastating things to happen in my life. But something told me he’d registered that, so he didn't push.

His energy picks up and he looks at me with a grin, but there's something a little sinister behind it. "I've got a more fun question for you." he leans in closer to me, "Y/N, when was the last time you got laid?" I just looked at him in shock.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I can go first if you really need me to?" his voice didn't waver,

"Fuck you Reid, I know when it was!" I snapped back at him. I did have to think back a little farther than I'd like to pull up the memory.

"Met this guy in a bar when I was out with Pen one night, we went back to his place and hooked up." I say as deadpan as I can make it.

"Well that's not very exciting is it?" he jokes, "Did you at least cum that time?" I know he's just trying to rile me up, but I answer anyway.

"As a matter of fact I did" I earn back a little of my confidence.

"I'm so happy for you, but you did manage to avoid my initial question" fuck "when was this exciting night of yours Y/N?" he probes, like I really, really wished he wouldn't. I could lie, but I'm sure he'd be able to tell. I cringe before I can say it.

"About 8 months ago" I mutter, just low enough for him to hear.

"Sorry, did you just say 8 months ago?" He nearly shouts in disbelief, he seems to find it funny.

"Hey fuck you Spencer!" I go on the defensive, "When was the last time you even got laid?"

"Like two and half weeks ago" he says, confident, and still laughing, "Wait wait, when was the last time you got yourself off? I know you're not waiting 8 months!" he giggles and I think I could kill him. I know I kept giving him outs but was it too late for me to just get up and leave?

"I'm not doing this with you if you're just gonna make fun of me Reid, I get enough of that at work" I get out, my voice is serious but I'm trying to hide how awkward all of this is making me feel, and I don't know that I'm doing a very good job.

I can tell that's gotten to him, he relaxes and eases up on the giggling. "Look okay wait Y/N. I'll stop, I'm not actually trying to make fun of you. I was being serious, I think stuff like this is important if we're gonna have to be comfortable around each other enough to seem like a real couple. Plus, it'll just help break the ice?" he shrugs. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I soften, because I agree, even thought I hate that he's right. "Fine" I collect my thoughts, "2 nights ago I'm pretty sure." I regret it almost instantly, but breaking the ice is supposed to feel awkward.

"Same here actually," he chuckles, "what'd you do?" I'm so startled by the question I almost forget how to answer.

"I, uh, my, my vibrator? I just felt like uh, I watched some..." I still can't force out a whole sentence. It's not like I was always awkward about sex or anything, I could talk to Garcia, or honestly probably any of the other team members about it. But with Spencer it didn't feel as comfortable. He still sat calmly, smiling just a little.

"Same here, 2 nights back, but with my hands I guess. I wonder if we were doing it at the same time?" he mutters the last part gently and my head goes a bit fuzzy. My eyes drift away from his face and settle on his hands, the mug he's holding looks so tiny with his fingers wrapped around it, I wondered how they'd look wrapped around my-

"Okay I think that's enough for one night, don't you think?" I jump up off the sofa and turn, mostly so that he doesn't catch the blush thats creeping from my neck up to my cheeks. And because I don't know what I'll say, or regret saying, if this conversations continues on its current trajectory.

"Sure," he says, standing up next to me, and I want to move further away instantly, "you're probably right, and it's getting a little late now anyway" he glances at his watch. Ushering me back towards his front door and opening it up. Before I can walk out he lightly touches my shoulder to turn me back to face him, and I wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from every part of me.

"So are you free next Friday after work?" he asks, and I'm so flustered I almost forget why, I just nod. "Perfect, how about we come here again and we can dive into preparing? You could also make a start on getting these onto a hard drive?" he gestures to the antique looking hardbacks adorning the shelves.

'Sounds great!" I perk up, feigning enthusiasm, "See you then!"

"Well, see you Monday morning actually Y/N" he smirks as I walk out the door. Fuck, he was right.

I really hadn't thought this through.

——

The weekend was a bit of a blur. I decided to try and put some useful information into a document for Spencer. It felt strange to try and condense my life into as few pages as possible. I knew Reid had an eidetic memory, and nothing would necessarily overwhelm him. But I also knew that he was someone that the team relied on to fill in a lot of the gaps in the rest of the our knowledge. So I felt bad about dumping a load of information on him, especially considering it was a favor he was doing for me.

I'd complied the majority of my life into a 15 page document and printed it out. Hopefully that would address most of what my family could guerrilla attack him with. There was also something unsettling about the imbalance. I was going to give him so many of the intricate details of my life in a little file, whereas all I really knew about Spencer was what I'd taken it upon myself to learn about him throughout the past few years.

I'd read all of his work while I was in college, given how he was the gold standard of getting into the BAU at a young age, I wanted to know who this guy was. I think I'd pictured something different. And I couldn't deny there was something enticing about finally getting to know him after all of these years of working together. Maybe this could actually be fun, or interesting at least.

----

I arrived early on Monday morning. I thought I was first into the office as usual but Garcia was sitting in my desk chair waiting for me. The second she saw me walk in she tensed, she must've known we were the only people in this early.

"What happened! You've been avoiding me all weekend?" she asked, and she was right. I'd drafted enough texts to her, trying to explain what the plan was, mostly without wanting to admit that she was right. Maybe I was stubborn.

"Alright okay, I drove Reid home." I admitted, dropping my bag by my desk. She rolls her eyes at me, dramatic as always.

"Well I knew that already Y/N damn! What happened next?"

"Fine, we went into his apartment and talked for a while. Trying to sort out the details, get a handle on things I guess?" I said, unsure of how much I should actually give away about our conversation.

"What things!?" She shouts, standing up from my desk,

"I don't know Pen, like logistics and stuff, I still haven't decided how I feel about that little stunt you pulled on Friday night!" I let my frustration get the better of me, and maybe that's why I haven't talked to her. It could also be because I know she's able to read me like a book and I'm not even sure how I feel about this whole situation.

"I call bullshit." She counters, "I know you were relived as hell when I sorted that whole thing out. You would've had anxiety tummy all weekend if I hadn't called Spencer!" I just go silent, she was right. I'd gotten so caught up in the whole, 'how to have a fake boyfriend' that I'd almost forgotten about how stressed I was about Spencer hearing my call in the first place.

"Okay, shit" I sigh. "Maybe you were right Pen. We're actually meeting up again this Friday after work to make a plan for the next while, so I guess that's progress?" I shrug, trying to play it off like this whole situation doesn't make my stomach flip.

"Ohhhhh! So like a date?" She probes, her enthusiasm rising drastically.

"Oh my God Pen no! Like an appointment at best" I diffuse the situation

"Ugh that's no fun" she says, not even trying to disguise her disappointment.

As if on cue Dr. Reid walks through the double doors into the bullpen. Both Garcia and I wave, overall awkwardly, but making an attempt pretend like things were completely normal and like nothing had changed since the last time we were all in the office together.

Penelope heads to her office as the bullpen starts to fill up quickly. Less than an hour later though Garcia's back at my desk and there's a new case that needs the teams attention in Boston. I follow her into the conference room and wait for the rest of the team to join. Spencer follows a moment later with 2 cups of coffee in his hands. I can see my mug in his hand and my automatic response is that he's messing with me. But he places my mug in front of me in the circular table before taking the seat next to me, listening to Garcia's briefing. I don't know if he's ever sat next to me in this conference room, at least not by choice.

I barely had any time to finish my coffee before I have to say goodbye to Garcia and hop on the jet to Boston.

----

The case was grueling. More so than usual. It was wrapped up late on Thursday night and the team decided to fly back home first thing on Friday morning. I was exhausted. Even if there was enough time to get sleep each night it wasn't like I got any. Whenever a case got on top of me like this it made it hard to rest, or get it off my mind at all until it was wrapped up. So even though it was over, that didn't mean I wasn't exhausted.

Hotch gave the team the rest of the day off, given that we have until submit our paperwork by Monday. I wasn't sure if Spencer's invitation from the following week still stood. I didn't want to ask, partly because I was so tired, but also because I was scared. I wasn't about to show up at his house in an effort to have a heart to heart, or hand him a condensed version of my life story on a manilla envelope if he was as drained as I was.

Standing by my desk I packed up everything I'd need to get my paperwork done over the weekend, I was just about finished when Spencer snuck up behind me, perching himself on the edge of my desk. "So, you almost ready to go?" he asks, like it's the most obvious question in the world. I couldn't really hide my surprise.

"Oh yeah. That's fine, I mean, if you're still cool with that?" I ask, and I hate how flustered I sound, like he makes me nervous.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He chuckles, standing up straight.

"Cool, gimme a sec and I'll be good to go."

I pack up the rest of my stuff quickly and we make our way out. There's something that feels a little eerie about the two of us being in an elevator together alone again. It was a different kind of awkward to how it felt a week before hand. It almost felt like a kind of tension rather than a hatred or a rivalry. Either way we rode down in silence.

Once we got to the basement Spencer walks out of the elevator and walks straight to my car without having to ask. I unlock it and he hops into the passenger seat. Like this is a natural interaction. Something we do all the time. And I don't hate it as much as I thought I would.

"So," he says, buckling up his seat belt and breaking the silence, "do you know how to get to my place from here or do you need directions again?"

"Well I've got to turn on the engine first" I tease, hoping he picks up on the reference to our last car ride, he chuckles like he does.

"Are you hungry?" he asks

"Starving."

The delivery guy get's to Spencer's apartment at almost the same time we do.

---

Once the food's been demolished the two of us finally sit on his sofa, the same sides as the week before. "So, shall we get back into this?" He asks, sitting forward slightly to pull a notebook out of his satchel on the floor. It's small and lavender, and it's got a pen clipped into the spine. He cracks it open and flips to a specific page.

"Sorry, what's that?" I ask, pointing to the book, he looks confused,

"They're my notes?" he says, like it should be obvious

"Your notes?" I ask,

"My notes on you." he smirks, again like I'm silly for even asking.

He had notes on me? He had a whole notebook on me? What was even in that thing?

"You've got notes on me?" I ask, my hands reaching out to grab it, but he retreats faster than I can catch him. "What have you got in there that's so serious?"

"Nothing." and his tone's a bit too stern and I don't really want to push it when he's being so uncharacteristically nice to me.

"I've actually got this ready for you" I pull the file out of my own bag and toss it to him. "I'm not sure exactly what you need to know but that should be the majority of it at least."

He opens it up and glances over the the pages. It takes him all of 2 minutes to get through the whole thing. It feels unsettling that he's taking in a boiled down version of my life while I'm just sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. Trying to avoid the attention I pipe up.

"Um, hey, maybe it would be a good time for you to show me where to make a start digitizing your books over here?" I stand up and make my way to the shelf. He jumps up off the sofa and walks toward me, visibly excited.

"That's actually a great idea, I thought that the theses from my degrees could be a good place to start, since I'm pretty sure they're not backed up anywhere." he guides me to a section of the book case by the window. There's a series of leather bound hardbacks, the same gold font embossed on the spines. I recognize all of them, pulling out the first one.

"This is my favorite" I say without thinking about it and he does a double take, clearly thrown.

"You've, uh, you read my work?" he asks, completely puzzled. I'm sort of proud that I've managed to make him this awkward, and I nod.

"Mmhm, back before I joined the BAU actually. Before I really knew you" I regret saying the last part, it comes out a little meaner than I really wanted it to so I back track. "Spencer, I read all of your work while I was in college, you were like the gold standard. I don't think I slept more than 2 hours a night throughout my PHD because I was just trying to get as much done as you." and his face softens at the admission. But it takes him a moment before he responds. Leaving the two of us in silence a little too long.

"I had no idea" is all he says.

"I think this one was best" I say propping up the one in my hand, "you get a bit cockier as you move on” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "but I'll start with all of these I guess" I grab the matching books and stack them in my arms. Walking over to his desk and setting up. Glancing at the clock it was only 7pm so I decided to just make a start.

Spencer didn't contest. Letting me just get settled at his desk, I pull out my laptop and begin work on transcribing the first volume. After a few minutes he silently places a cup of tea down beside me and goes to sit on the sofa. The time rolls in quickly after that, each time I look up at Spencer he's carefully combing through the file I'd given him. Re-reading it and making little markings in his lavender notebook. I'm not really sure what I put in there that was worth making a note on but clearly he was reading between the lines on some things. That little notebook was like a profile of me.

When he seemed like he'd finished writing he pulls out his phone, scrolling through it aimlessly like I'd never seen him do before. It made him look so normal. His eyebrows knit together as he's looking at something on his screen and he stands up. Making his way over to me at the desk and shows me what he was looking at.

"Who's this?" he asks, "This guy you're with?"

I recognize the photo instantly. It's from a few years earlier, Nathan and I on the beach, my head resting on his chest. He'd taken it while we were on vacation celebrating our anniversary. That was about a month before I got into the BAU, I had no idea that was going to be our last anniversary. I gulp down the emotions that it stirs. I'm mostly over the whole thing by now, but looking at old photos like that, photos of happier times, it can still sting.

"That's uh, the boyfriend I was telling you about last week. Nathan, we broke up not long after I joined the BAU?" he nods, but he's smart, and I kind of figure he already knew that.

"Ah alright" he takes out the hardback and jots another note down. Maybe he's trying to get a read on me.

"What are you doing?" I gesture to the phone,

"It's research, do you not think that if you and I were really dating that stalking your social media profiles would be on my agenda?" he's smug, and he's right. But I guess I just didn't expect it from him.

"Well that's not really fair now is it? I can't reciprocate, you've got no social media presence whatsoever!" he finds that funny, letting out a deep chuckle and tucking his phone away in his back pocket.

"Maybe so, but that imbalance is hardly my fault. Besides, you've read all my dissertations apparently..."

"Bastard" I joke, slamming my laptop shut and throwing a pen from his desk at him so that it lightly bounces off the top of his head.

"Hey, there's no need for violence Y/N!" he rubs the spot beneath his curls, "Maybe it's time you took a break actually?" he says, sitting himself back down on the sofa.

I was reluctant to admit it but he was right. My eyes were starting to go a little fuzzy after looking at the screen for so long. I stand up and stretch my arms out above my head, feeling my spine stretch out after sitting for so long, letting out a low groan. Spencer waves me over to the sofa and I join him.

"How about we go back to basics?" Spencer asks with a small grin, and I can't help but let out a long sigh.

"I thought I was taking a break, no more questions" he just laughs at me,

"Relax, you're not that interesting, it's just a simple question." he states, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to find it funny or offensive

"Ugh, fine, shoot"

"Well, actually it's two questions" he corrects, "what's your favorite movie, and what's your favorite snack?"

I'm confused mostly by the fact that it actually is a simple question, I was expecting something a lot more contentious, but also because he looks eager to know the answer.

"I'm not really sure what my favorite movie is to be honest, one of them is Night of the Living Dead?"

He nods to himself, and jots it down in the notebook again, "Alright, I can make that work" he stands up off the sofa before turning back to me, "and snack?"

"Peanut butter cups I guess?" I respond and he grins ear to ear, which is a completely new sight, and I like it way more than I thought I would.

"Perfect, gimme 2 minutes!" he leaves the living room and wanders towards the kitchen.

Spencer returns a few minutes later with a DVD, a packet of peanut butter cups , and a thick knitted blanket gathered in his arms. He drapes the blanket over me and gently places the peanut butter cups on top of it before popping the DVD into the player and sitting down beside me. I'm not really sure how to process any of the situation. Am I about to watch a movie on Spencer Reid's sofa? Sitting next to Spencer Reid?

"I... I, uh, thought you were just asking for your notes?" I ask, pointing at the notebook resting in his lap. He picks it up and throws it onto the coffee table.

"Sometimes I find experience is the best teacher, don't you?" he asks before pressing play, “And besides, it should keep you quiet for a whole 96 minutes” of course.

I can only nod in agreement, I'm not really sure what I'll say if I try to speak. I get myself cosy under the warm blanket and we watch the movie in near silence.

Once the credits roll Spencer finally speaks up, "I actually went to see a screening of this last month downtown, there was this little old horror movie fest-" I cut him off without really realizing, I'm just strangely excited that we've genuinely got something in common.

"Holy shit, I was there!" I say, more enthusiastic than the situation calls for.

He laughs at my excitement, "Well, I guess we have more overlap than I thought, that should probably help with the whole charade." he stretches his arms up over his head and let's out a small, gentle yawn. I'd been enjoying myself more than I thought I would, or would ever tell Spencer, that I'd almost forgotten that we'd both been on a case for almost every waking moment of the past week. I really should feel a lot more drained than I do.

I was just after midnight when I suggested that I head back home. I offered to take some of the books home to work on throughout the weekend but Spencer insisted that I just work on them whenever I came over again. I sort of felt like I should thank him for the evening when I was on my way out the door, or give him a quick hug, no that felt wrong. In the end all I could really muster was a lousy, "goodnight" and a meek wave on my way out the door before I drove home. And couldn't get to sleep.

— —

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

In the Spotlight (S.R)

Type: One-shot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader Word Count: 5050

Summary: The one where Tony pushes Steve into a photoshoot, rubbing his hands and smirking at such action being almost a practical joke; a great way to make Cap squirm for a good cause.

Well, the joke just might turn out to be on him.

Warnings: mention of child cancer patients and disabled kids, Tony being a bit of an ass, attempt at humour, some language

A/N: The idea is a courtesy from a wonderful person, chase-your-dreams-away who always saw Chris’ FILA 2015 photoshoot as Steve showing he actually can pose. Thank you, sweet! This one’s for you!

(gif not mine)

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

“Ah, Cap! Just the guy I wanted to see!”

Tony’s voice reached Steve’s ears just as he entered the kitchen after his morning run and shower, his heart skipping a beat, his whole body instantly on alert; he wanted nothing but to spin on his heels and walk right back to where he came from.

It wasn’t that he dreaded to hear there was a mission; that would be fairly alright even if it meant that the world was once again a terrible place with horrible people who needed to be stopped in it. No, Steve’s fright was caused by something else entirely.

You see, living in the Avengers Tower meant spending extended periods of time in Tony Stark’s company. Spending extended periods of time in Tony’s company meant that one would learn how to recognize certain situations; Steve could easily tell when the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist had pulled an all-nighter in his lab, when he was in a long-term fight with Pepper, when he was annoyed, when he was delighted.

And this right here, the ‘Just the guy I wanted to see!’, that meant nothing good – certainly not for the guy in question. Tony seemed awfully excited, beaming in a manner that told Steve that his friend was about to revel in the discomfort he was about to cause to him.

God help him.

Steve forced himself to continue walking, a tight mile on his lips.

“Morning to you too, Tony. What’s the matter?”

The man behind the legendary Ironman suit blatantly wiggled a finger at Steve, smirking; a clear sign that he already had his coffee, possibly with two shots of espresso.

“Morning. Glad you asked. You’re free in the afternoon, right?—Yeah, I already checked the agenda you keep with Jarvis-“ Make that three shots of espresso. Also, incredibly RUDE. But guess that what one gets when living in a building ran by an artificial intelligence. “-so I set up an appointment like four weeks ago-“

Steve shook his head, raising his hand in attempt to stop the rapid fire of words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Tony, hold on a second-“

“What?” the billionaire snapped, frowning. He hated being interrupted.

“First of all, I don’t have to share all my plans with Jarvis-“

“But you do. Sorry to break it to you, but you have no social life to keep under wraps.” Ruder. “…or do you have a hot date today?”

Steve was so embarrassed and so frustrated with the man that he was tempted to say yes just because. To make a point. But from the two men in the room, he was the less petty one, so he told him the truth.

“Well, no-“

“See? No problem here-“

“Yes there is!” Steve protested, crossing his arms on his chest as anger started to build there. “I could have had plans! You need to consult things with me! It’s about principle!”

Tony eyed Steve, unimpressed, his right brow arched. “Really? Principle? We’re gonna go there? I don’t think so. Aren’t you curious what the appointment is about?”

Steve sighed exasperatedly, so not done with the conversation Tony so carelessly dismissed, but he in fact was curious, wanting to be prepared for whatever insanity the man came up with.

Tony planning stuff usually equalled Pepper planning stuff, or both of them together, except Pepper had a habit of asking first before confirming the plans and setting appointments. Also, plans by Pepper usually equalled PR. Steve wasn’t too fond of PR stuff, genuinely hating shaking hands with politicians with smiles as fake as their election slogans.

“What’s the appointment about, Tony?” Steve asked to humour his not-exactly-a-friend-at-the-moment.

Tony smirked once again, a hint of mischief flashing in his dark irises.

“Feeling pretty today, Rogers?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, his muscles tensing; that sounded even worse than he had imagined.

“Huh?”

“Cause you’re gonna promote a new sports collection. You better start posing in front of the mirror to get your head in the game,” he mocked lightly, just as Steve predicted, basking in the horror that overtook Steve’s very being along with utter disbelief.

“What? Why?”

Steve did not enjoy being photographed. It usually involved ‘striking a pose’ or whatever the kids called it these days and once again, strained insincere smiles. Yeah, he was more than alright to take a picture with a fan if they were a kid who looked up to him. But other than that? Ugh.

“Come on! Lighten up, Rogers! It’s for charity!” Tony called out, stepping closer to pat Steve’s bicep. “Uh-huh, firm, good.”

Please let me leave, Steve begged the heavens, unsure if Tony was actually fawning over his muscles – serum-induced and supported by hard work, thank you very much – or if he was mocking Steve again.

“But seriously, it’s for charity that deals with enabling the disabled kids to do sports, any kind that’s possible with their impairment really. From some sort of a football to marathons or archery or whatever. It’s for a good thing.”

Steve felt the tension in his shoulders partly subdue, relaxing a bit. For one, that did sound like a good cause and for two, there was a barely noticeable change in Tony’s voice, just a little waver in his tone, giving away that for all the smirking and nudging and shit-talking, the genius cared for people and had a heart. Having a heart - Tony Stark’s most heavily guarded secret.

Steve sighed, his previously lost appetite returning.

“Alright, Tony. Where, when and what do I need to do?”

The other man patted his bicep again, this time in a truly friendly manner and grinned. “I’ll let Jarvis give you the details. You just try not to screw it up. Seriously, train how to smile in front of a mirror or something. Some poses, whatever. The photographer looks pretty good – not just professionally, if you know what I mean-“

Steve couldn’t help the eyeroll at the remark, one that was followed by Tony’s scandalized insulted gasp as he slowly made his leave, gesturing.

“-so I guess you don’t have to worry… much. Not sure if there will be trunks involved. Or a speedo. So, you know, keep it in your pants and don’t look anywhere I wouldn’t… which isn’t leaving much-“

“Bye, Tony,” Steve called after him, resisting the urge to childishly cover his ears just so he wouldn’t have to listen to the dirty teasing.

“What, it’s a valid concern we don’t want a lawsuit form her--“

“Go before I rattle you out to Pepper,” Steve grunted and at that, the genius grimaced and swiftly disappeared in the doorway.

Steve once again sighed and decided that he might need a bit more carbs in his breakfast than originally planned just so he survived today.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

You weren’t kidding anyone – you were a teeny tiny bit nervous. Your career had been rather colourful, you dipped your fingers in many kinds of photography and you still enjoyed the diversity, the various pictures of beauty – and there was a lot of beauty in the world to be captured – still calling out to you.

You had met famous people before too and you always managed… but Captain America was a whole new level of a challenge. You were feeling equal parts worried and damn lucky for being picked for the job; a job you wouldn’t get a penny for. Shooting a thing like this for charity with a name as great as Steve Rogers, that wasn’t about money – not quick one at least. It was about prestige.

On the other hand, you would get almost any props you’d think of, within reason, of course – just saying a word was enough. And you had a few, images already painted in your head as you read on Steven Grant Rogers a bit more, got a good look on pictures online, and obviously, saw the collection.

Thinking about it, maybe it was him who should be scared, because excitement was the leading emotion of yours for while now.

You saw him arrive, the chatter about it instantly spreading like fire. And honestly? He did look a bit spooked, so you took the liberty to knock on the room he was provided with, the stylists already in.

“Come in!” sounded from the inside and you took a deep breath, poking your head in – and deciding that entering fully was more polite since you were about to introduce yourself.

“Good afternoon,” you greeted him, only a showing a smidge of nerves on the outside, you hoped.

As you offered your name, the blond man – built like a tank, a very handsome tank, with the sweetest inviting smile and bright eyes – rose from his seat immediately, holding out a hand to shake, introducing himself as well as if it was necessary. It was a nice sentiment, however.

“Please, call me Steve. Something tells me that formalities would only get in the way,” he said with a slight curve to his lips and you felt yourself relax right away. He’d be excellent to work with. Now you really couldn’t wait.

“Then you must call me by my name too. Thank you for suggesting it,” you accepted delightfully, eyeing the pair of stylists you had met before on similar projects; this kind of business was all about knowing the right people. You nodded at them, grinning. “Now, Steve, I have a very important mission for you.”

The captain’s eyebrows jumped at your wording – and at your teasing. You scolded yourself lightly for your choice of words, unwittingly nudging him towards the wrong headspace. You didn’t need a soldier now, quite the opposite.

“Oh?”

“I need you to tell these two lovely people what amount of make-up and what hairstyle you’re comfortable with,” you explained, earning a slightly confused tilt of Steve’s head. “Sure, I have a certain visual in my head, I’m sure they have too.” You exchanged a knowing look with them. “But most of all I need you to feel good. If you’re pressured into something you hate, we can’t work any magic there.”

Steve nodded in understanding, stiffly, and you had a hunch that he might have been pressured into this whole thing.

“But please don’t leave on us now,” you added quickly and he huffed a short laugh, bittersweet, letting you know that you were correct in your assumption.

“I won’t leave. But thank you for the tip.”

Gosh, he was so polite and had a subtle air of greatness around him (also known as BD energy these days), you could bask in his presence forever – but you had to work.

“All in days’ work. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Your heart skipped an excited beat when a twinkle appeared in his brilliant blue irises and you were done for.

You really hoped your hands wouldn’t shake; you’d hate for the pictures to be blurry.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Once you were in your own kingdom of wonders, all nerves vanished, only child-like giddiness remaining. However, same couldn’t be said about Steve; he entered the space, fidgeting – not too obviously, but visibly enough – eyes flickering all over the room as if he just arrived to a Wonderland indeed.

If you were being honest, such a hunk of a man appearing so endearingly lost… he was kinda adorable.

You felt the corners of your lips automatically rise at your silly thoughts and at the image of him. Besides adorable, he sure looked hot in the white jacket. Who knew sportwear could look so alluring?

“Looking good here, Steve,” you called out as he approached and upon meeting your eyes, he attempted a smile too – little too apprehensive on the edges for you to believe it was honesty and not sheer professional courtesy. “Clothes feel good?”

You could see his expression melt into pure puzzlement at such question, clearly not having expected it.

“Oh… uhm, yes. Thank you.”

“I meant what I said. I need you to be comfortable, Steve,” you reminded him softly, earning a rather frantic nod.

“I… am.”

You could practically hear the unspoken ‘sort of’. Well, it was a work in progress.

“Little steps. Alright, so… I’m gonna be talking a lot. Cut me off whenever I’ll be getting on your nerves too much, okay? We’ll start with this set-up, with this background, obviously. I need to you to just walk to the centre- good, now turn your head to the left—a bit more… perfect.” Not.

Uh-huh. Probably his first time; you should have figured, though a heads-up would be nice. You should have asked dammit. You chewed on your lower lip, gears in your head spinning wildly as you tried to assess him.

Mm.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

His head snapped back to you in surprise and you couldn’t but chuckle, mock-frowning at him. He realized his mistake and quickly looked away, returning to the pose you had attempted to set him into before – his beautiful profile now dusted with pink.

“The colour?” you encouraged him and started taking photos even if you knew you wouldn’t use them, not with his shoulders so stiff and his expression slightly twisted in confusion still – even if he apparently tried to look natural.

“Uhm, blue.”

His face relaxed a fraction and you smiled to yourself.

“More sky-blue or royal blue or something entirely else?” you continued, not at all surprised when a second later you learned that it was sky-blue.

You thought it might be because of his eyes and you wondered; perhaps his eyes were the only thing that hadn’t changed during the serum transformation. His eyes were last straw to grasp at when his whole body suddenly didn’t feel like his.

Or maybe he was moonlighting as an artist, appreciating all kinds of beauty like you did and knew his stuff.

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen colour so well before his transformation and fell in love with the particular shade upon seeing the sky.

“Mm… ever had the time to appreciate the sight of the ocean? Breath-taking blue on the surface, matching the sky, reflecting the sunrays so sharp that it would make one squint—but you don’t, you can’t. Because damn, it’s so beautiful and you can feel the breeze in your hair, almost flowing between your fingers and you just have to keep your eyes open to commit to memory what it looks like, how it feels, the sand between your toes, the sun warm on your skin…”

You babbled on, your heart fluttering at how damn magnificent Steve looked now, gradually relaxing his posture, his eyes softening, the corners of his mouth subtly raised in a smile, not an artificial one, just a soft curve to his lips as he lost himself in a pleasant memory – or a daydream. You had to remind yourself to press the shutter release; it would be too easy to simply watch the man in front of you coming out of his shell, releasing his light and grace for everyone to see.

“Absolutely wonderful, Steve, thank you. Shall we move on?” you praised him softly and his absurdly long lashes fluttered as if he indeed woke up from a dream. He appeared to be a little lost again, but the smile remained on his lips.

“Of course. Where do you want me, ma’am-- I mean-“

“Oh hush!” you interrupted him rudely with a grin. He was too precious for words, resembling a puppy, all soft and loveable and yet he was somehow so respectable; you’d have to watch yourself just so you wouldn’t fall in love with him in the short time you were given together. “No ma’am, we’ve been over this. Now…”

You instructed him to walk to the wall of a ‘beach house’, half of the background imitating the very beach you had described; you offered him a different jacket and a cap to hold in his hands, the item serving more than one purpose; one was the campaign, the other was to give him something to do with his hands.

For this picture, you had him looking at you, which made you fidget self-consciously for a change; this time, the story you came up with was to put both of you at ease.

At this point, Steve was an open book to you – or, well, open enough. You had done your reading on him a bit, sure, but now you truly started to see his personality – one of your favourite parts of doing photography coming into play.

“Alright. Posture is great. Now, do you often meet kids?”

Steve wasn’t as surprised at the question anymore, replying calmly, but almost without a thought.

“Yeah. We, uh, we sometimes go to the hospitals to make the patients’ day a bit better? It’s such a small thing to do, I know, for an oncological kid, but they are always delighted. And they are so brave, I feel like a—well, like a sucker compared to them.”

“Weren’t you sickly as a kid?” you questioned lowly and Steve’s gaze dropped as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his expression falling.

“Done your reading, huh?”

“The wonders of 21st century and our educational system. But I’m just bringing it up to make a point. I think that you can see them and that’s why they like you visiting so much. Something tells me that you can truly feel what they feel and they sense it – kids can be ridiculously intuitive. Maybe you share, I don’t know of course, but I think that somehow they just know and they see a fellow warrior who beat all the illnesses too. And they look up to you, because you give them hope. And not just sick kids. I bet you met a few kids claiming you’re their favourite superhero just because you have a frisbee.”

He chuckled at that and nodded, but you could see that what you had said before the funny bit touched him and it had been that part that had the desired effect – to pull him back where you wanted him, relaxed and positive.

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“You’re not everyone’s hero for nothing, Steve, you’ve done some pretty heroic stuff to begin with. But I think it’s what behind the shield that some people find even more inspiring. Be proud of that too.”

The perfect shot was taken and you couldn’t but recall the quote I once saw a man so beautiful I started crying, because yeah, you could weep now. You quickly stood up and took few more pictures, because it was too good of an opportunity to pass up on.

“And look at you, turning into a model so easily when it comes to helping people, again,” you teased him lightly while being nothing but honest.

As at ease as he appeared now, you’d think he was doing this on a regular basis. As if you hadn’t been trying to coax out his true self out for everyone to see in a simple photo just a few minutes ago.

His hands found their way into the pockets of temporarily his jacket, gaze falling to the floor before his eyes locked onto yours, grateful and gentle.

“I’m pretty sure that’s all you. Thank you for being so patient with me. I thought this would remind me of the old days when I-” He hesitated, blue eyes lightly misted with doubt, so you beckoned for him to continue to speak freely. You’d got into some pretty deep stuff yourself just a moment ago after all. “-when I was a lab experiment to show off.”

You nodded in understanding, even if you couldn’t imagine what was it like; then again, in your early days, you had met enough parents who came to your atelier to show off their trophy children, so this wasn’t exactly a foreign concept.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sure that however you hated doing it, you were giving people hope back then too. And it’s not right to reduce person to a symbol, but symbols were and are important. As long as there are people who are able to see beyond the simplification, then I think it’s worth it. Then again, I never was anyone’s dancing monkey, so…” you shrugged, internally cringing at being such a blabbermouth, afraid that you came too far, put Steve off and that he would withdraw back to his shell.

But he didn’t. He gifted you a brilliant smile, one reaching his eyes.

“And all this?” you hummed, vaguely gesturing around, hoping he’d catch on. “I’m glad if you like the way I work, but the pictures? That’s not me, Steve, that’s you. And all I hope for is to show people a little bit more of you, throwing away the shield and letting them see that Steve Rogers is just as radiant.”

The intensity of his gaze now was enough to make your heart stop beating, his expression suddenly unreadable and you quickly covered your mouth, an apology already spilling from your lips.

“I’m so sorry if this made you uncomfortable and I turned into one of the fawning fangirls, that wasn’t my intention. You have to stop me when I get too much-“

“You’re didn’t and you don’t,” he smiled kindly and shook his head, appearing genuine. “I just never met anyone like you. And I mean that in the good way, just to be clear.”

You felt your face burn; because of your TMI talk and his compliment.

“T-thank you,” you stuttered out, causing his smile to turn radiant indeed.

He kept watching you, silent, eyes roaming your face, irises blue and intense—when had he got so close? Or did you walk to him? He was positively prettier upon closer inspection, all sharp edges to his jaw, lips calling out with how damn soft they would be, not to even mention his hair, and oh, was that a drop of green in his eyes? Oh wow, you could drown in that single drop, surrounded by the most enticing shade of blue and--- you closed your eyes and cleared your throat, trying your best to ignore the tingle in your fingertips and in your gut, pleasant warmth in your core-

“We, uhm, we should probably go back to work,” you whispered, licking your lips as you once again glanced at his and you swiftly spun on your heels, desperately trying to remember what shots you wanted to take next and if it was time for him to change already- oh god, you couldn’t possibly handle the thought of him losing clothes…

His expression dimmed a fraction, an epitome of slipping back into politeness. “Of course. Tell me how you need me… ma’am,” he teased, subtle quirk to his lips and you felt your cheeks burn hotter— but your breathing got easier as he was letting you know that you were still alright.

You had a half-mind to call him a soldier in the same manner, but you didn’t want him to slip into that persona.

“Oh, you have no idea what you signed up for, Steven.”

He chuckled, but followed you as you walked to the next scenery.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

“What the hell, Rogers?!”

Why?

And this right here, the ‘What the hell, Rogers?’, that meant nothing good – certainly not for the guy in question. Tony seemed awfully exasperated and perplexed at some of Steve’s past actions probably, and that usually meant a lot of uncomfortable questions coming his way.

God help him.

Yet, he sighed and walked in, preferring to face his fate right away and go about his day as soon as possible.

“What did I do?”

“Jarvis, if you could, please,” Tony requested with a solemn expression, one of his thin holographic devices lighting up on the counter and instantly projecting several floating images as Steve walked closer.

Steve’s lips parted in surprise, shocked ‘oh’ escaping them as his heart was sent into frenzy.

Twenty images in total, photos of a blond man of Steve’s own body-built, clad in sportswear posing in every single one of them. His face was familiar too and yet somehow foreign; surely these couldn’t be real. There was no way Steve looked so confident and almost proud in some pictures, but mainly, appearing so comfortable in his skin.

Steve’s mind raced as he tried to associate the model with his own person and yet—he couldn’t but feel rather satisfied. Because this was most definitely him. And the photos were… well, not bad at all. Simultaneously, while his chest puffed with pride he desperately attempted not to let go into his head, he remembered precisely how these photos came to existence and who should totally take the credit here.

“That’s all you gonna say?! Oh?” Tony demanded, gesturing around the holograms as if these were corpus delicti of a serious offence and Steve was once again reminded of what Tony Stark was not; a patient man.

Steve felt a smile creep onto his lips as he shrugged.

“Oh, he says. You’re asking me what did you do?! THIS! If I knew you were a damn runaway model, I would have expected less fun than I did when imaging seeing you squirm! Look at this! These are way too good!”

Steve couldn’t disagree, mildly amused at Tony’s antics. In fact, he really was ridiculously content with the results of something he had dreaded and couldn’t have even hoped to turn out like this.

“…is that a bad thing?” he couldn’t but mock, earning an exasperated huff… and a smirk.

“Well… not, I guess. My little black heart is just… disappointed.”

Ah, yes. The heavily guarded secret – Tony Stark did have a heart and contrary to popular opinion, it was not little or black.

“No, it’s not.”

“Hush!” Tony shushed him, a twinkle appearing in his eye, amusement mixing with satisfaction. “But seriously. What the hell? Since when do you… pose? Like this? Like… wow.”

“Careful there, Stark, you’ll make him blush,” Natasha hummed as she entered the communal kitchen, checking out the flowing pictures with interest and a curve to her lips. “These are pretty great. You did well, Rogers.”

And all of sudden, Steve couldn’t handle the praise anymore; it had been fun with Tony, but now when Natasha joined in, swiftly followed by a wolf-whistle from Sam at her heels… it felt wrong to brag about this, it wasn’t fair – he wasn’t the one who deserved to be given the majority of the merit.

“It’s… it wasn’t me, really…“ he admitted sheepishly.

And it wasn’t. It was all you.

Looking at the photos, he could tell what you were talking about when you pressed the shutter release for every single one of them. Painting the vivid image of the ocean just with your words. Calling him a hero in a way no one ever had. Pleading him to be proud of what he had accomplished. Making him feel those things, causing him to gradually gain confidence, feeling good in his own skin even when being at the centre of attention, encouraging him to suggest a pose on his own. Hell, Steve might go as far as to say that he had been having fun.

But it was all you.

“Looks a lot like you, man,” Sam chuckled and Steve would have shot him an annoyed glare hadn’t he been so embarrassed and self-conscious to admit who was to blame for the pictures turning out so great.

Because… yeah, Steve wasn’t vain or tried not to be, but these were pretty swell. You were a magician, you had to be. And he had fallen straight into the trap of your charms.

“Har har… the photographer was amazing. She made me feel-” He didn’t even know how to describe it without making himself look like a complete fool… for you. “-great. She was really supportive the whole time, sometimes even making me forget she was taking shots.”

“Alert!” Tony cried out all of sudden, nearly causing Steve to jump out of his skin. “I sense romance! How’s Cap heart, Jarvis? Has the security been breached? Should we run some scans-”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve huffed in irritation, attempting to hide how precisely the billionaire hit the nail on its head.

“Awww, now he is blushing,” Natasha teased and Steve felt the heat in his cheeks burn.

“Well, luckily for him, there was a business card along with the printed photos that arrived this morning.”

Steve’s head immediately snapped Tony’s direction, curious and excited. You left a business card? That was—it probably didn’t mean anything along the lines he wished, but still!

The billionaire held out the simple creamy-coloured item between two fingers, but quickly snatched it away when Steve reached for it. Steve shot him a murderous glare. Dammit man-child!

“Full story or you’re not getting any, pun intended.”

“Oh, go to hell, Stark-”

“Come on, Stark. We all know he has some work ethics unlike you. Let him start a thing before you interrogate him. Plus, if he’s got a phone number from a hot girl for the free work he did, good for him. Give him the card,” Natasha supported the poor blond and Tony rolled his eyes before shooting the Widow a look of betrayal. Sam just chuckled at their antics. Steve snatched the card before they could change their mind, while Natasha smiled behind her cup. “We expect a full report later though.”

She exchanged a high-five with Sam under the bar, but Steve was too busy examining the card and having his heart beating incredibly fast to feel exasperated at his childish friends.

As he flipped the card in his fingers, he felt a wide smile spread his lips at their own accord.

If you ever need another photoshoot or anything at all, don’t hesitate to call. xxx

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

Link to the inspiration post will be in reblog!

What can I say to my defence? I just really like making Steve happy, okay?

And yeah, the 2016 FILA is perfect too, but this fic is a result of a suggestion of a friend and babyface CE is more Steve, what can I say…

218 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years ago

Note

“don’t do that. don’t shut me out.” + Jupeter

I wrote this for @spiky-lesbian because she’s had a rough week so here’s some angst babe, go figure

----------

“I’m getting too old for this.”

Juno was pretty sure PIs were supposed to think that sort of thing when they were doing something cool and dangerous, like leaping the gap between the cars of a moving train or ducking behind crates at a harbour to avoid laser fire.

Rather than crawling on their stomachs to get their pet sewer rabbit’s favourite ball out from behind the sofa. But hey, it was his day off.

Then again, Small Fry did look delighted when he straightened back up with a loud groan and the cracking of some vertebrae, whiffling her nose and hopping excitedly, shaking the floorboards of their little apartment. Smiling fondly, Juno threw the ball off down the hallway so she could chase it, squeaking happily.

“Next time that happens I’m not getting it out for you! You can go make goo goo eyes at your daddy for a change,” he called after her, brushing dust from his curls and his shirt. But the smile didn’t fade from his face, even after she had rounded the corner to go and cause mischief somewhere else. Anyone who said keeping a massive sewer rabbit in a modest Hyperion apartment was a bad idea was just too afraid of cleaning up the occasional broken lamp or gnaw marks on the walls.

He was about to straighten back up and go back to the book he’d been reading, he got so little time to do things like that these days but his husband was still at work, the boys were asleep and Bianca was happily playing in her room, giving him a rare hour or two to himself that he didn’t want to waste. He was mildly tempted to crack the lock on the drawer where Nureyev stowed away any case files he brought home so he couldn’t continue working himself ragged outside of his own office but, contrary to the size of the lock and the dedication with which his husband hid the key, he really was getting better at giving himself time off.

After all, it had been a hell of a long time since work was the only thing he had to keep him going.

He was about to do that when something else behind the sofa caught his eye, something that wasn’t just a toy of Bee Bee’s that she’d forgotten or one of Small Fry’s hordes of left socks that she liked to build nests out of. He was about to sigh and mutter something about the wonders of having three kids being that you’d find trash in the weirdest places but something wary ran its way down his spine. Something that was maybe instinct, maybe his detective brain putting pieces together and proving yet again that the years spent theoretically on the other side of law and order hadn’t dampened his skills.

Whatever it was, it made him reach out, once again feeling the twinge in the base of his spine, using his hip to nudge the couch further out so he could snag it and bring it out.

It was a small bag, something designed to be inconspicuously held at the waist or over the shoulder, dark in colour so it wouldn’t catch the eye. Juno frowned, the wariness growing stronger as he sat on the couch and opened it up.

He recognised the precision and fastidiousness immediately, like it was rolling off it in waves like too much perfume. It was in the way everything was crammed in so tight there wasn’t a spare inch of space, everything chosen for its shape and size so it would go in seamlessly like a game of tetris. It was in the items themselves, every possible scenario accounted for; dried rations, iodine pills to purify water, vouchers for shuttle tickets that would take you anywhere in the galaxy, tightly rolled stacks of genuine honest to god Earth currency to take you even further than that, no questions asked, clothes folded so tightly they looked like napkins at first. And, in an even more closely concealed pocket on the inside seam, fake documents, fake IDs, fake cards loaded up with fake creds.

And a knife. If Juno had been entertaining any doubts, any lingering threads of uncertainty, then seeing his tired reflection in that razor edge snipped them neatly away.

He sighed, long and low, filing through the emotions rising in his chest, sending away any that he knew weren’t helpful or were just offshoots of his anxiety, counting backwards from ten like Buddy had shown him until all the messiness sorted itself out.

He didn’t pick his book back up. He watched the clock and waited for his husband to come home.

Nureyev really enjoyed working at the salon. He kept waiting, expecting to get bored or frustrated with it all, but it hadn’t happened yet. He just laughed at the conversations with his colleagues more and more, got more familiar with the smell of hairspray on his clothes and felt a small spark of pride at the ache in his ankles at the end of a long day.

It was enough to make him feel something approaching hope.

He slid off his shoes, not wanting to track any dust from outside into the apartment. Living on Mars had meant needing to get used to the fine red silt clinging to his soles every day and turning up in the most inconvenient places, no matter how careful he tried to be. Juno, the Aurinkos and Rita barely even seemed to notice it. Nureyev assumed that came from growing up with the stuff.

The apartment was surprisingly quiet, enough that he was already getting ideas before he walked into the living room and saw his wife sitting on the sofa.

“What exactly have you done with our children, my love?” he grinned, “Bought us some alone time?”

Juno started a little at his voice, even though he should have heard him come in, the door closing, his keys rattling into the bowl. And when his eye lifted and met Nureyev’s, it was immediately clear that his ideas had been far off the mark.

“Yeah, Rita has them,” Juno’s voice was even, not full of scowls and snarls as usual, not in any way a ‘we’re in serious trouble’ voice but Nureyev’s veins still flooded with adrenaline as he rooted to the spot, a discordant clashing in his ears, “I did want to have some time with just you and me.”

“And yet you’re still dressed?” Nureyev was a little impressed with himself, how his tone came out still perfectly light and joking, like he wasn’t completely gripped by panic and his brain wasn’t scribbling blue prints behind his eyes.

It would seem hairdressing hadn’t lost him all of his skills.

“Babe, listen,” Juno sat forward, eye gentle, “Just come and sit with me, okay? Nothing’s wrong, nothing bad has happened or anything like that. I just want to talk.”

Nureyev frowned. Maybe he had lost his skills a little. Or maybe they’d just never worked on Juno.

But he did sit, stiffly, still braced for something awful in spite of his wife’s reassurance. And when Juno wordlessly produced one of his getaway bags and set it on the coffee table between them, he was ready to run.

But Juno didn’t let the moment build, he didn’t keep him hanging. He simply sighed and reached across the gap between them to take his hand.

“Peter, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Nureyev looked up, certain he must have misheard.

But Juno’s expression was firmly set in penance, mouth turned down, brow fallen across his eye which was soft and sad, “I never once asked you if you were struggling to adjust to the way our lives are now. I never thought to check in with you. I let you down in that and I’m sorry.”

“I...what?” Nureyev was well aware he was falling short of his usual articulation but no more words were coming in to fill the blank gap in his mind, “You’re not...you’re not upset with me?”

Juno frowned a little, shaking his head, “No. No, why would I be?”

“Because…” Laughter, of all things, raw edged and disbelieving bubbled up in his chest, “Because the only thing to take from this is that I’m insane or I was going to leave you?”

“Are either of those things why you’ve got these bags?” Juno asked evenly.

Nureyev winced, “You found the others?”

“No but I know you enough to assume.”

Nureyev took a shaky breath, “I’m not leaving you. And...and I don’t know whether I’m insane or not, honestly.”

The sadness in Juno's eye deepened and he squeezed his husband’s hand, “I don’t think you are but we need to talk about this. What exactly were you trying to prepare for with these?”

“I...I don’t know…” Nureyev didn’t like this one bit, this reversal of their usual roles, Juno being so calm and collected and even while he sat here struggling to leash his emotions, “Nothing! I...I wasn’t…”

Juno exhaled, something cracking through his calm, “Don’t do that. Nureyev, please, don’t shut me out. That’s the one thing I need you not to do right now.”

Nureyev felt his throat close and he couldn’t have said anything if his life depended on it. He didn’t want to shut his wife out, he really didn’t, but it was so hard to unlearn something that had been your first line of defence since childhood.

But if there was anyone who understood that, it was Juno.

“Listen, Nureyev, there’s no answer you can give me that will make me angry with you or upset me. I just want you to feel safe here with me and with the kids and...finding this, it’s just made me worry that you don’t?”

Nureyev forced his lungs to pull in air and turn it into words, determined to not be the man who had shut Juno out for years, the man who had packed those bags.

“I do feel safe here, I am happy here,” he promised, feeling the truth of it and drawing strength from that, “It’s just been so long since I stayed in one place, since...since I could feel safe. And sometimes it feels like another cover I’m wearing for a little while, like something’s going to change and I’ll have to run again. And I guess I just wanted to prepare for that, even if it isn’t what I want. Even if I’m praying it never happens, I just can’t let myself be unprepared. It’s not how I was raised. And having those bags...I can breathe a little easier. I can settle into this more because even if the absolute worst thing happens, I’ll survive.”

Juno nodded slowly, eye never leaving his husband’s face, “Nureyev, we both knew this was going to be a change. And change is hard, even if it’s for the better. And if this helps you settle down, I’m fine with that.”

“But I’m not,” Nureyev croaked, wanting to wipe his eyes so the tears there didn’t fall but also not wanting to let go of Juno’s hand, “I don’t want to live my life like it’s not mine. This isn’t a cover, it’s my family and my home and I want to feel like that.”

Juno squeezed his fingers, “This is yours, Nureyev. I’m your wife and they’re our kids and this is our home. No one is taking any of this from us, I promise. And if you need me to remind you of that, I will, every single damn day for the rest of our lives if that's what you need. And it fucking sucks that everything you’ve lived up until now is telling you different.”

“Yeah,” Nureyev mumbled, the tears falling and dripping off his nose now but they hit Juno’s hands before his own and he didn’t flinch, “It does.”

“Come here…” Juno murmured, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around him as their bodies fit themselves together, “You can cry, it’s okay.”

Nureyev did. Because he believed Juno when he told him it was.

They spent the rest of their rare evening alone pulling out all of the getaway bags Nureyev had stowed over the first week of their retirement from the Carte Blanche, all of the stockpiles of food as well, everything he’d hidden underneath their new life with Mag’s voice and the voice of a hungry child guiding his hands. They didn’t get rid of it, he wasn’t ready for that yet, but it went into a box under their bed instead.

And Juno still told him he was proud of him.

Nureyev thought there was always going to be that part of him that had Mag’s rules in it’s mind and a constant hunger in its belly. All he could ever do was fold it up as small as he could make it and find space for it in the back of his brain.

But with Juno’s arm around him and red dust on the soles of his shoes, that felt easier than it ever had before.

#jupeter #tpp #the penumbra podcast #post canon #angst #hurt/comfort #angst prompts #juno steel #peter nureyev

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chipsfics · 4 years ago

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Part 1 - Introduction/Invitation

Part one of my currently-unnamed Inanimate Insanity fanfiction :)! Feat. Tissues and Yinyang. Some shipping but not a whole lot ;)

Rated: PG (A few heavy themes)

Hope you enjoy and much more to come !! :D

~~~~

Unlike Tissues, Yinyang knew he was going to be eliminated. Yin did, at least. He figured after a certain amount of time, the viewers just saw him as... Annoying. He had used up his entertainment value- Inanimate Insanity had packaged and squeezed dry his "quirks" of any and all comedy until they were just problems again. He was sure his other half knew elimination was at least a possibility- He was probably too preoccupied with his own thoughts, which sometimes blended together with Yin's. A lot of... "Everyone here hates me," and "I hate everyone here." Seemed like the situation was stressing them both out.

Weeks later, After they were all freed from the closet, Yinyang watched the episode where he was eliminated. Yinyang cried, not because he lost, but something kind of got tangled in his brain watching the way he acted. He was grinding his teeth watching the playback, Yang holding back tears and Yin letting them flow freely. If only, if only, if only. Needless to say, he didn't really remember a lot about what happened cooped up in that tiny closet. He mostly hid in the corner and tried not to grind his teeth down to his gums. Tissues, on the other hand, barely knew what was going on. One place to another, off a plane, rushing from iceberg to dodgeball court, grass field to bleachers- Next thing he knew he sneezed himself through a portal and ended up cooped up in a closet. Once the dizzy feeling cleared and he ended up face down, alone, in an empty closet with a locked door- One thing was abundantly clear: He lost. As usual. When another contestant stepped through the portal, the relief he felt was overwhelming- and as the closet filled up with eliminated contestants, the sense of relief he felt was replaced by self loathing and shame- Everyone else pretty much all hated him. As usual.

When they finally got a breath of fresh air, space to move around, personal rooms and even a breakfast juice bar- After everyone who came in contact with him was thoroughly sprayed down by Soap, nobody hated him anymore. They just didn't talk to him. Although, when he walked in the hallway, Soap would follow a safe distance behind him and clean where he last stepped with disinfectant. That didn't really help his self-esteem.

One quiet afternoon, everyone was still trying to settle into their new (but much nicer) living situations, Tissues got paired with the roommate who hated him the most. One Trophy horseplay, who was the one who stomped his face in more than a couple times while stuck in the closet. Of course, due to the technological advancements of melife, Mephone brought him back immediately after he got the death notification- bzz-ding, Tissues died again, to Trophy's frustration. Living with Trophy, he tried to keep all of his stuff in one corner- And he was kind of being shoved over by Trophy's ever-growing collection of sports equipment. Apparently he had nowhere to put it except for cluttering up their shared bedroom. He didn't have much things anyway- and he spent most of his time in the front game room. Tissues, Yinyang, and a few wanderers in and out every day in that same room, that same dinky game system, the same 4 outdated platforming games. He didn't remember the names of those old things, and he wasn't great at them anyway- It'd surprise you, but he didn't have the best hand-eye-coordination.

Yinyang was also bad at them. He'd argue and curse and throw the controller and tug at the wires, Tissues would follow slowly behind him in co-op play. It was fun to play with someone who had the same skill level as he did, and it seemed like Yinyang had mellowed out a little from his appearance on the show- Having a bit more freedom and alone time seemed to make Yang calm down and Yin become cheerier and more friendly. If Tissues could say one Inanimate Insanity contestant was his friend- It was Yinyang. They had something big and terrifying in common- They were both freaks. The unlovable tend to find a way to love each other.

~~~~

Yaaaawn. Tissues stretched and looked at the clock- 11:30, about 3 hours earlier than when he usually woke up. He wiped the drool off his face, got up and feverishly brushed his teeth. He realized the breakfast bar was still open for another 30 minutes- More like 25 now that he'd dragged himself out of bed. OJ wasn't the world's most attentive hotel owner, but the breakfast bar seemed like something he was passionate about. There were rumors that he refilled the cereal dispensers by himself and doesn't let anyone else do it. Soap always threw a fit when someone else did the chores for her, although she seemed to have a quiet respect for OJ's breakfast bar. Tissues took the elevator down- He didn't trust himself to go down the stairs because of his vertigo. Lo and behold, someone else bumped into his hand reaching for the down arrow. It was Yinyang!

"O-oh, go ahead, you first," Tissues said bashfully.

"No, you first!" Yin chirped. "I assume we're both going down?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna try and catch the last wave of breakfast, guyse. I'm not usually up this... SNIFF. Early," Tissues said, and jammed his finger into the down button, which started to glow a faint yellow.

"Wait, is the free breakfast thing still open?" Yinyang said, "The one where you can make waffles with the little do-it-yourself waffle iron?"

"Is that what that is? I thought it was just a weird smoothie dispenser. I thought the stuff that came out of it tasted like waffle batter," He sniffed.

Yinyang laughed. Tissues would have been peeved, but it didn't seem like Yinyang was laughing AT him. That, or just the fact that his laugh was crisp and clear as a ringing bell. Tissues didn't think he heard him genuinely laugh a whole ton of times. It was nice.

As they waited for the elevator to come up, Tissues noticed one of Yinyang's eyes blinking and drooping. Yang's side seemed to be sleepier than Yin's- His body lagging to one side until he had to jerk back into a standing position. Was it possible for one half to fall asleep and the other half to stay awake? DING. Tissues' train of thoughts was interrupted by the elevator door sliding open. They stepped in, and for the entire ride down Tissues fought as hard as he could not to sneeze- In a closed place like an elevator, that could be very annoying. More annoying than usual. The elevator ride was mostly silent and awkward- It seemed that Yang almost tried to fight on what button to press, but he was too tired and hungry to cause any trouble this early. It was a Saturday after all, the slowest days in the hotel, and once they made it downstairs to the breakfast bar, there didn't seem to be many contestants looking for something to eat so late. Tissues grabbed a paper plate and put a blueberry muffin on it, and got a small paper cup of orange juice. He noticed Yin and Yang were having some sort of quiet argument about what to get for a drink. Tissues couldn't help but overhear-

"Coffee." Yang spoke in a harsh whisper. "Not today, Water." Yin replied. "Coffee." "Juice, then." "Ok, Fine." "Apple juice." "I want orange." "Not today. Apple Juice feels more..." "Pure?" "Yeah." "Bull." "Let's just get our food, I'm too tired to argue." "..." "..." "Me too."

Tissues seemed distracted, until Yinyang moved down the line and bumped him further down. He looked away, face flushed, and moved to the couch, flicking on the TV- He felt like he had just intruded on Yinyang's privacy, but Yinyang didn't seem to care. He'd grabbed apple juice and a pastry of some kind, filled with cream cheese. Yinyang and Tissues ate together, Tissues sitting on the carpet and Yinyang on the couch close by, both staring at the gameshow program that was playing on TV- something that aired often, it was starting to get old. That and the fact that the episodes are hard to tell apart. Same host every time, same backdrop, same formula. Because of this, Tissues' mind couldn't help but wander, and so did his eyes. Yinyang was focused intently on the tv, one hand, Yin's, tapping the sides of the paper cup and the other, Yang's, lifting the pastry to his mouth and taking a bite. They seemed to have figured out a good way to eat without arguing.

"So," Tissues said, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" Yin said politely.

"Can i sit next to you guyse?" Tissues asked. Yinyang looked a bit puzzled.

"Sure. Why not?" Yinyang said, "Just try not to get any of your germs on me." Yang grumbled. Yin pinched his arm. "Don't be rude," Yang growled, but once Tissues got up and hopped up onto the couch cushion next to him, Yang seemed to have forgotten about it. Tissues was so short he had to put in a lot of effort to get onto the couch- It was almost comical. Because of that, he preferred to sit on the ground. People seemed to prefer him down there anyway. It was kind of nice, up there, though, and honestly the only thing he felt different was... More comfortable, and taller. It was nice. He hadn't even noticed the TV program changing from the game show to an ad break- some kind of infomercial on chairs.

"Sooo.... Do you want to go and check out the pool today? I've heard that there's like, complimentary towels. I haven't actually been there yet," Tissues said.

"Are you... asking us to hang out with you?" Yinyang said curiously.

"Well sure," Tissues smiled. "We're friends, right?"

"Umm..." Yinyang's face flushed a bright red. "Of course!" Yin chimed.

"Whatever." Yang added, clenching his jaw and slightly baring his sharp teeth.

"I just didn't wanna show up alone. Can you swim?" He asked. Yinyang looked away.

"Not really," He said, embarrassed. "It takes a lot of coordination, and Yin hates listening." Yang said aggresively. Yin glared at his other half.

"Ohhh thats cool. I can't either," Tissues replied. "I was just planning on sitting by the side. Maybe putting my feet in- Its just nice to have like... uhh. SNIFF. Change of scenery... I like the chlorine smell."

"Well that sounds nice!" Yinyang said. "But we need to go back to our room first, Right?" Yang sounded like he was directing the question less towards Tissues and more towards Yin.

"Oh. Well that's ok. I'm here all day," Tissues said, pulling his mouth into a goofy half-smile. Yinyang finished off his apple juice and got up, silently turned and smiled towards Tissues, and walked away. Tissues wondered what he was thinking about.

~~~~

#inanimate insanity #fanfiction #ii #ii2 #fanfic #yinyang #tissues #tissyang #tissuyang #yissues

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writingwithadinosaur · 5 years ago

Text

“Did It Hurt?” - Oneshot

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Word Count: 2,262

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, Talk about violence

Summary: Lucifer finally tells you the truth about his scars.

Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to do Lucifer fics for awhile, and this idea slowly worked its way out of my brain. It is not beta-read, but I hope you enjoy it! I may already have a few ideas for more stories in this fandom. <3

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

~~~~~~~~

Lucifer had come home from working a case with Detective Decker a few minutes ago. He had dirt all over him and his suit when he came in. Not wanting to know the specifics, you just told him to go shower while you finished up. He nodded, gave you a kiss, and was off.

While preparing dinner for you and your boyfriend, you had to pinch yourself and make sure that your life was real. You were living in Los Angeles, dating Lucifer Morningstar who despite his reputation, treated you extremely well, and you felt safe. Who would have thought that that would even be a possibility for you?

In the midst of you zoning out, Lucifer had come out in some pajama bottoms and snuck his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind.

“Hello there, beautiful.” After the initial jump, you lightly smacked his arm before turning around in his arms to face him.

“Well hell-looo there!” You couldn’t help the smirk as you found Lucifer shirtless, which was always a nice surprise. He chuckled as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. He also reached behind you and stuck his finger in the dish you were working on, bringing it to his lips as you yet again smack his arm.

“Hey! Luci!”

“Whatever that is, it is delicious, love.” You couldn’t stay even pretend mad at him for long. Laughing you just shake your head and go back to cooking.

“Thank you, babe.” He places another kiss to the side of your head. You watch him walk away and make his way to the other side of the counter, grabbing something from the expansive collection of alcohol to go with dinner. While you couldn’t help admiring him, your eyes land on the two large and curved scars on his shoulders, the only scars you’ve ever seen on him.

You had seen the scars on his shoulders before. They were kind of hard to miss. And you were happy that he was comfortable enough around you to not hide them. But you still had no idea how he got them. You knew it was something that he didn’t want to talk about because you had asked him multiple times in the past, but you would be lying if you said that you weren’t curious and a little bit worried.

“You know, one day you are going to tell me the truth about those scars.” Lucifer turned to you with his eyebrow quirked up in a challenging manner.

“How do you know I haven’t already told you the truth?”

“Impossible.” You shake your head with a smile as you take the pan off the stovetop and reach for some plates.

“Oh really?” Lucifer brought his chosen liquor to his seat on the other side of the counter, pouring himself and you a glass.

“Yes! Because every time I’ve asked, you’ve said something different! And none of those stories seem to be real.”

You finish plating dinner and turn to give Lucifer his portion, expecting to see a smirk or some sort of look that says “Well, I guess you’ll never know.” But instead, you see him looking into his drink, his face showing a mix of worry and uneasiness. Sliding the plate in front of him, you try to break his gaze from the cup.

“You know I’m still going to love you no matter what happened to cause those, right?” Without looking up, his tone got a bit more serious with a twinge of what sounded like pain.

“Don’t make promises you are unsure of, dear.”

“Then tell me what happened and put my promise to the test.” You reach for your glass and take a sip, loving the taste but not able to relish in it because your worry for Lucifer takes precedence.

You can see him mulling something over in his head. He eventually just runs his hands over his face and sighs out a shuddered breath. You move around the counter and hop up on it, you get close enough to put your hand on his cheek and make him look at you. It broke your heart to see whatever trauma that those scars left in his eyes.

“Hey. If it makes you this upset, you don’t have to tell me. I want to know, but if it's going to hurt you, I don’t--”

“I am Lucifer.” His eyes were closed but pointed down towards the counter. The confused chuckled that escaped you was uncontrolled.

“We’ve been dating for awhile now, I think I know your name pretty well, ba--”

“No.” He took your hand from his cheek and from your lap and held them in both of his hands. “I am Lucifer Morningstar, Bealezbub, Mephistopheles, the prince of darkness, the Devil! I am…” He finally looked you in the eye, “the Devil.”

You sat there next to him, looking into his eyes to see if there were any indications that this was a joke. But you saw that he truly believed that he was the Devil. And surprisingly it made sense to you. Everything about him pointed towards that being true, but you hadn’t seen any sort of proof other than the genuine reactions he is showing right now as he tells you.

“Okay… Um… I’m not saying that I don’t believe you, but--”

“You don’t believe me.” His hands, which are still holding yours, drop slightly as he looks away dejectedly. You squeeze them and make him look at you.

“I’m saying that I need some proof. As much as I love you and I know you wouldn’t lie to me, I am just asking if there is anything you can show me.”

Lucifer’s leg begins to bounce with anxiety as he thinks about his next course of action. He knew that telling you would lead to this, he was just scared of the possible fear and rejection. He truly loved you, which is something he never thought was possible. He didn’t want to lose you. But he had to be honest with you.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, focusing on his arm. You watch his face, looking for any sign that this is going to far for him. When he meets your gaze again, his normally dark eyes are now a vicious red color.

You flinched and you saw that it hurt Lucifer. You didn’t know what you expected, but it definitely wasn’t that.

His eyes looked down at his arm. Following his gaze, you see that his skin was now more red. His veins looked like they were glowing under his skin.

“Oh my god!” You couldn’t help the shock as you dropped his hands and covered your gasp.

You took a moment to look at it as he reached for his glass and took a larger than normal drink. Your body moved faster than your brain as you held out a hand to him. Lucifer was confused, but you slowly reached out more until you were delicately holding his arm. It was warmer than a normal human, but not scalding. He let you move it, watching you look at the different shades of red of his true skin.

After a few minutes of looking at his arm, your gaze goes back to his eyes. As soon as you make eye contact, he takes a visibly nervous breath in and holds it, trying to figure out what you were thinking. He closed his eyes and quickly made his skin and eye color back to “normal.”

“Okay. So the stuff that I ignored in church growing up is--”

“Real. Well,” Lucifer tilts his head side to side. “most of it at least.”

Your brain exploded with questions. All of them were out of curiosity. There was no fear or overwhelming nature to any of them.

“Okay… So the whole heaven and hell thing. That’s real?”

Lucifer spent the next half hour patiently listening to all of your questions and answering them the best he could while the two of you ate. He got more and more comfortable the more he talked about it and saw that you were accepting them, accepting him.

“So what does all of this have to do with the scars on your back?” Your voice was a bit softer, knowing that this wasn’t going to be the easiest thing for him to answer. Lucifer’s change in demeanor said that you were right.

“The short version? I had wings. But when I left Hell and came here, I wanted to leave that all behind. So I…” He shifted in his seat, slightly rolling his left shoulder as if he still felt the weight of his wings, “I cut them off.”

You really weren’t sure how to respond. You understood the reasoning behind it, but you had no idea what that felt like. You had no way to relate to it or know how to try and help Lucifer feel better about the situation. All you could do was softly say, “I’m sorry.” Which got a chuckle out of Lucifer.

“Why in the world are you apologizing, dear? It's not like you had any part in it.”

“I know, but I just can’t imagine all of the frustration and sadness that went into a choice so painful.”

Lucifer knew how empathetic you could be, it was one of the reasons you were so appealing to him. You fell silent as you drank the last of your drink, Lucifer turned to completely face you.

“ I will say that you’re not reacting quite like how I thought you would. Usually when people find out about celestial beings being real, they go insane or end up too overwhelmed to handle it. But you. You are very... quiet.”

Lucifer needed to know how you felt about him and his true self. He was preparing himself for heartbreak, for you to get up, say something along the lines of “this is too much,” and then leave him.

Before he could think more negative thoughts, you spoke up.

“I’m just trying to fully absorb that God and angels and demons are real and that I’m actually in love with the Devil. It may take awhile, bu--”

“So you do still love me?” You meet Lucifer’s eyes. He looks so hopeful and shocked, but still too cautious and nervous to let himself feel the happiness of what you just said. You turn to face him completely now, taking his once red head in yours.

“Yes. It's going to take a hot minute to really solidify all of this new stuff in my brain. And I’m definitely going to still be surprised if you ever go all demon eyes on me. But yes. I love you, Lucifer Morningstar.”

A very shuddered exhale leaves the now thankful smile on his face. You stand up and close the distance between the two of you, standing between his legs as he sits on the bar stool. He doesn’t wrap his arms around your waist until yours are around his neck. He is gentle with his embrace, burying his head in your neck. You can feel a tear or two hit the sensitive skin by your collar bone.

You both stay like this for a minute or two. When you pull away a little bit, you take his face in both of your hands and lean in for a gentle kiss. Lucifer pulls you in closer, needed to feel all of this as validation. Letting it sink in that you do truly accept and love him for him.

You’re the one to break away one Lucifer seemed to relax and slowly go back to being his normal self. You sit back down and reach for the bottle on the counter, but Lucifer is already pouring you another drink. Smiling, you take the last bite of food that you have on your plate as a silent laugh leaves your nostrils. Lucifer notices.

“Laughing at my vulnerability now are we?”

“Oh god no! I just thought of one more question.”

“For now.”

“Yes, for now. I’m sure there will be others that pop into my head as time goes on.”

“Alright, what is your question?”

“Did it hurt?” You tried to be serious. Lucifer’s expression changed as if to say “isn’t it obvious?”

“What? When I cut off my wings? Yes! It's as if you were cutting off your arms, but a bit smaller, and on--.”

“No, no-- Not that, although that sounds awful. I meant…” You lean in a bit, Lucifer’s brow raises. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You had lost it. Your uncontrollable laughter echoed through the penthouse, and while the noise made Lucifer’s heart happy, he groaned in annoyance at the awful pickup line. He put his head in one hand, pointing the other to the elevator on the other side of the room.

“Get out.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, but you played along and stood up. Before you could get to paces away, a familiar hand grabbed yours and pulled you back towards him. You found your place between his legs, both your hands and his automatically find their familiar places, as if nothing had changed.

Lucifer pulled you in closer and flashed his red eyes, making you jerk in his grasp. You both laughed and you lightly smacked his shoulder.

“Rude.”

“C’mon, love. It's a little funny.” He says through his trademark devilish smile as you both lean in for a kiss, ending the night better than he could have dreamed of.

#lucifer fandom #lucifer fic #Lucifer fanfictions #Lucifer Morningstar x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #dreasaurusrex #lucifer netflix

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genshin-djinn · 4 years ago

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genshin impact: how I feel so far

I’ve just finished the prologue! Here are all of my thoughts on Genshin Impact thus far presented in a very confusing and non- linear manner.

My first and most resounding opinion on this game is that it’s amazing. The graphics are insane— the lighting, the weather, clouds passing by. All of the characters have designs so ridiculous it’s hard for me to draw them and it makes me feel like the game is just flaunting the flawless animation of all these characters’ extremely convoluted designs.

places

I love the locations sO mUCH. My favorite places so far are the two major cities— Mondstadt is just so cheery and fits the vibe of the early game (by early game I mean the dvalin quest line). It’s presented as large but in a very linear manner that you learn quite quickly. It has plenty of places to buy stuff from and just genuinely feels like a cheerful, bustling, fantasy city. fantastic and I’m in love. Liyue Harbor is presented in a completely different architectural style and it’s excellent. Mondstadt makes me feel safe, Liyue Harbor makes me feel like I’m in a wild metropolitan center.

And importantly, both of these cities feel genuinely alive. All the romantic hullabaloo in Mondstadt, Yi Zhu trying to cheer up his little sister Yi Xian after their mother’s death, the mysterious locked door in Mondstadt, Anna making wishes to recover from her illness at the well and her brother going there at night to collect all the coins so he can pay for her medication.

Besides the main cities my other favorite location has been Qingce village. The walk over to it is very nice and the town has an incredible vibe with the scale- like terraced fields. And even beyond that, the town is filled with old citizens and children— showing how all of the young adults in the town have left and decided to try to find a new and more exciting life in Liyue Harbor.

I’m having a hard time thinking of something I don’t like about the locations and honestly I’m drawing a blank. I really love all the set design/ map design. I know I will never finish that “collect every geoculus and anemoculus” quest because that’s just not the kind of dedication I have to this game (unless I get really stuck at an adventure level, though.... then things are a wild card.)

adventure ranks

this is my biggest problem with Genshin Impact.

You can’t progress the main quest (which honestly I enjoy more than a lot of the side quest because of my sheer attachment to these characters and their stories, which I’ll talk more about later) until you hit a certain adventure rank. And it’s a real pain getting them. I’m the type of person who gets freaked out when fighting a level 1 ruin guard with a set of level 39 characters and an inventory full of honey chickens. I do sometimes go into this state of bloodlust when fighting hillichurls and I feel like actually seeking out their camps to return them to dust myself but then I find one of them dudes with a shield and remember that my one pyro unit is amber and uhh.... that feeling goes away real fast.

I hope that the game does what they did with adventure ranks 18-20 more often— my next quest in Liyue is locked until rank 23 (I am not looking forward to increasing my world level can I please just play on easy difficulty until forever) but I get this cool new Darknight Hero quest that I’ve been looking forward to to tide me over until I hit level 21 and can go on another bookworm date with Lisa. Yes, spacing out the main quest line is okay, but I really like having a lot of side quests in between as well so I can gain adventure ranks organically rather than specifically hunting for geo/ anemoculi.

characters

I love the characters in this game maybe as much as I love the locations in this game. Maybe more.

My favorite character is Kaeya because I am a sap for antiheroes with attitude problems. More on him later.

I’ve also become very attached to Amber. She’s just such a positive soul and she so genuinely wants to do what’s right and she’s so useful for lighting things on fire which is something I do not have any other character to do (holding out for Xiangling at level 20....). But she’s just not a great character fighting wise. She takes a while to load arrows and they aren’t super useful compared to any of the other seven characters I own. But she can light stuff on fire and I don’t have anyone else to do that so she must remain on my team for the time being.

next up is Lisa. I like Lisa. I know she’s there for the perverts who want to see anime women’s chests but I genuinely do like her. Her personality is, well, very different from all the other characters’ and I kind of like her constant over the top- ness. Her ability is useful but I switched her out for Chongyun in my team and I can’t bring myself to get rid of Aether or Kaeya yet.

I rolled Xingqiu, Beidou, and Noelle but haven’t used them much. All I know about them is “water bookworm young master whos closet good at fighting”, “pirate who stopped me from getting that fecking file folder I was trying to get”, and “maid whose voice I like in the english and Japanese version”. (Side note, I mainly use the Japanese voiceovers because I prefer them. Downside is I sometimes can’t understand a word the characters are saying but it’s worth it for the voice actors)

I also got Chongyun who seems like a nice boy. I rolled him after I started playing with Japanese voiceovers, though, so I don’t understand most of his idle dialogue. All I really know about him is that he’s super positive and he loves ice cream and that’s good enough for me

Next up is my somewhat problematic fave Kaeya. It’s morally bad that you can’t tell whether he’s lying or telling the truth but all it does is make me like him better as a character. I can 100% see why he’s paired up with Jean and Amber as the most visible characters in power in the Knights of Favonius— they all sort of fulfill different roles. I really want to see more of him in the main plot, not when he’s lying about his grandpa hiding pirate treasure. Also we know nothing about his real motivations and actual past besides “diluc’s step brother, maybe like saw diluc kill his dad or like saw diluc upset after his dad was killed wE dOnT kNow”. and I want to know.

Can’t talk about Kaeya without talkin about his bro Diluc. I can’t wait to see him in this next quest line. I really want Diluc on my team. Same with Jean. That is all.

Penultimately I’m gonna talk about my personal favorite god of freedom whose powers just got stolen, maybe god, definite good bard Venti. I really like Venti. He’s got a lot of charm and he just fits perfectly as the easygoing free god of Mondstadt. I started yelling when that signora gal nabbed him. don’t worry venti we will kill her for you

Annnnd finally here’s my opinions on Aether (I chose him to be my protagonist) and Lumine (the Princess, I think). I do kinda enjoy them. They’re a bit of the typical blank protagonist type (can be sassy, can be cruel, can be honest, can be kind) but Lumine’s dark turn is just fascinating and I want to learn more about their relationship and how it’s changed since they were separated. Where even is Lumine? What will Aether do when he learns that his entire purpose in life has been in charge of the ones who’ve been hurting his new friends? It sounds like a fascinating situation.

(also Venti refers to Lumine as Aether’s “imouto”/ little sister— does he call Aether Lumine’s “otouto”/ little brother if you chose Lumine as your protag? which twin is older? is it determined by your choice of protagonist? hmmm)

least favorite things

Besides my problems with adventure rank, I have two other main issues with Genshin Impact.

Firstly, basically all of the female characters are dressed in outfits that seem designed to show as much skin as possible.

annnd secondly it’s extremely difficult to roll five star characters (Jean, Venti, Diluc) without paying money. this is a good way for the company to make cash but it’s also kind of annoying.

wrap- up

Ok! Those are all my main thoughts for now, at the end of the prologue and before chapter 1! I’m off to play the darknight hero quest (probably gonna post some of my mishaps here too). also I want more primogems we should be able to pet dogs npcs excitement bye

#genshin impact

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lhs3020b · 4 years ago

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The Wooden Spaceships, by Bob Shaw

The Wooden Spaceships is the sequel to the first Land/Overland novel, The Ragged Astronauts. It's set about a generation after the ptertha-driven migration from Land; civilisation on Overland is at least stable now, if not entirely-comfortable. Unfortunately "comfortable" isn't what Toller Maraquine is looking for in his older years. Apaprently he hasn't learned any lessons about getting what you wished for, because bad news arrives on Overland in the form of an airship from Land! That's right, apparently there are survivors on Land, and they're not very happy with their neighbours.

My thoughts are under the cut...

TWS is a bit of an odd book. It's really two main stories, somewhat awkwardly joined together. There's the plot with the attempted invasion by the New Men - briefly, the children of people who proved to be unusually-resistant to pterthacosis, who apparently are either immune or are tolerant enough to the disease that they've managed to live to adulthood. The New Men, sadly, have learnt nothing from their parents' folly and may actually be worse people; their survival seems to have convinced them that they represent a sort of superman who are destined to rule the universe. I suppose a more-sympathetic interpretation might be that they're the products of a collectively-traumatised society, and are dealing with said trauma by projecting all their negative feelings onto imagined enemies on Overland. That said, regardless of interpretation, their actions are not sympathetic and King Rassamarden is clearly a psychotic nutjob.

Also, it's worth noting that they are the New _Men_. While presumably New Women must exist, we never see any. This was an interesting ellision given that TWS is generally a step up relative to TRA for gender stuff. TWS is still quite bad, don't get me wrong, but there has been some improvement. Berise is a plot-relevant female character who actually gets to do stuff, the Kolcorronian king's key adviser is actually his wife Queen Dasseene and there has been some progress on the social front. The Air Corps has been opened to female applicants and it's implied that society as a whole has got a bit more equal. (That said, let's not go too far with this - this is still a society where an aristocrat can have innocent people executed on a whim, as we see with the Sergeant Gnapperl subplot, so Overland has a long way to go before it could be described as a genuinely-civilised society. It may have got a bit more egalitarian one way, but it's still a monarchical despotism ruled by the threat and fear of absolute force.)

Toller, of course, ends up involving himself neck-deep in the war with the New Men. This has the effect of cratering his marriage to Gessalla. In what is genuinely a moment of awesome from her, she tells him that while she's glad he's still alive, she's had quite enough of spending every day wondering whether today is the day she's going to have to bury her idiot husband's corpse. It's stressful and unpleasant, she's lost quite enough in her life already (literally including her homeworld!) and if he can't settle down and sort himself out, then they're through.

Toller, of course, can't deal with this. His marriage thus collapses, and that leads us onto the second part of the novel.

Incidentally, before we get to that, allow me one small tangent. We're halfway through the trilogy, and Toller has entirely forgotten his previous wife. After she disappears halfway through TRA he just - forgets? un-persons? has selective amnesia? goes into denial? refuses to take any responsibility for his own actions? - her entire existence. Toller, you were MARRIED to this woman! Seriously, what a cad! We never find out anything about what happened to Fera at any point in the series. Even in the third novel when a return to Land happens and Shaw could have tied the plot-thread off, but we get nothing.

(Since we never find a body, I've decided to invoke headcanon. Like Toller's father, Fera was one of the rare people who are entirely-immune to pterthacosis. As such she actually survived the implosion of Ro-Atabri and the end of civilisation on Land. After some confusion she eventually moved into an abandoned princeling's palace and has been living out her days in comfortable luxury; she spends her time either walking by the river or reading books - a hobby she recently developed - and occasionally she has been known to take lunch with some of the more pro-social New Men, so she's not entirely without society either. She mostly keeps away from them, having made a reasonable judgement of their character, but that said the odd social do can be refreshing. All considered it's not the worst situation she could have ended up in, and she's certainly managed better than virtually everyone else in Kolcorron. When the Overland exiles' return to the planet happens in "The Fugitive Worlds", Fera - still alive, though an old woman by then - sees the balloons and discovers that she simply has nothing to say to the people who abandoned her to her fate 50 years earlier. As such she decides to avoid them during their visit. In the abstract she supposes that it's nice that society has survived over on Overland, but really, neo-Kolcorron's antics are just Not Her Problem Anymore, so why even bother?)

The second part of the novel concerns a group of Overlander colonists who have recently arrived in a remote area of the planet, newly-opened to settlement. (One oddity of the novel is that for a planet whose population still must be less than a quarter of a million, nonetheless people are spread quite widely across Overland.) The area they've arrived in is fertile, has a pleasant climate and even pre-existing houses, built then abandoned by the last group of prospective colonists. You see, unfortunately, it appears to be haunted.

Bartan Drumme, the semi-leader of the group, is mainly there because he's trying to court his would-be bride Sondeweere. Amusingly, Sondeweere has his number and is quite-blatantly stringing him along, mainly to annoy her domineering uncle. Bartan is of course entirely-blind to this - honestly, Land and Overlander men all seem to run at a permanent +10 to Oblivious - and the "romance" proceeds in exactly the dysfunctional manner that you might imagine. Unfortunately, what would have been an amusingly-cringy romantic dark comedy gets interrupted when the new arrivals in the Egg Basket region start falling ill. Bad dreams, disturbed moods, sleepwalking, full-on psychotic breakdowns - all is not well in the Egg Basket. It quickly becomes apparent that the region is being influenced by some sort of external force. The sensible people leave; the less sensible people cling on and meet with various misfortunes.

(If there is one moral to the Land/Overland trilogy, it seems to be "if you see any hints of trouble, pack your bags and leave NOW, because things will only get worse, and don't expect the government to do anything even minimally-useful".)

Anyway things go from bad to worse, the Egg Basket's mini-society essentially collapses, and then Sondeweere gets abducted by aliens.

Yes, you did read that right. A spaceship turns up and hoovers her up. In context it's not quite as random as it sounds, but it is still quite random.

Anyway this leads Bartan to a decision that he wants to retrieve her from Farland, the third planet in the Land/Overland system. He teams up with Toller, who is now deep into the rebound stage following the implosion of his marriage. Along with Berise and some other acquaintances of Toller's, they construct a spacecraft capable of travelling outside of Land/Overland's mutual atmosphere and set off for Farland. Technically they're under commission from the King; honestly, I got the sense that the King and Queen have simply had enough of Toller's antics, and see this as a convenient way of getting rid of him.

Then reality ensues and they almost die, because nobody on the ship knows anything like as much about either outer space or basic Newtonian physics as they think they do. In fact it turns out no-one has any grasp about continuous acceleration, and they've been running a continuous halvell/pikon thruster-burn for entire days (somehow without running out of fuel, either - apparently the specific impulse on the pikon/halvell reaction is something insanely high?). By the time Sondeweere becomes aware of the ship's situation, it's running at over 100,000 miles per hour and is barely days away from reenacting the Chixculuub meteor on Farland.

Oh yes, I almost forgot to mention - Sondeweere was abducted because her nervous system had become host to an alien parasite (the same one that was causing mass psychosis in the Egg Basket) and she now has superhuman intelligence and telepathic powers. And also, a far better grasp of modern physics than anyone aboard the titular wooden spaceship from Overland. Fortunately, Sondeweere is able to take charge of the situation and arranges something close-ish to a soft landing on Farland - the crew don't enjoy the experience, but they get to walk away from it, and that's about as good as it gets in aerospace incidents!

Anyway my review here is a bit forced, but that's because the last 40% of the novel also feels a bit forced. The pacing is off and the narrative makes some rapid jumps. Honestly TWS's problem is that it's actually not one novel but rather two separate novellas that have been welded together in a particularly-awkward manner. A lot of things aren't really followed up or tied off properly. The fact that Farland is inhabitable and also inhabited turns up quite late in the book and is dealt with in what I felt to be a bit of an unsatisfactory manner. I was also intrigued to find out that all three planets orbit within 42 million miles of their sun. Apparently the star must be some sort of K dwarf, I guess - no, in fact it may well even be a brighter M dwarf, because this is roughly the orbital radius of Mercury! This is odd because the sunlight is never described as being pink-ish. The only thing I can think of is that maybe nuclear fusion also behaves differently in Land/Overland-verse? Perhaps not only is Pi equal to 3 but perhaps smaller stars are hotter and brighter than they would be here? Or maybe everyone's so used to the pink sunlight that no-one thinks to remark on it at any point?

(Canonically they do fuse - in fact Sondeweere actually has a go at explaining nuclear fusion to Bartan and the others at one point, which was thoughtful of her, though sadly the Overlander males remain as obtuse as ever so the effort may have been wasted.)

Anyway overall, I think this book suffers from a bad case of "mid-trilogy syndrome". I'm glad that female characters are handled better here, and I was cheering for Gessalla when she told Toller to fuck off. The extra expansions to the universe were interesting, and it was also interesting to see the gradual consolidation of colonial life on Overland. Madcap as it was, the interplanetary voyage to Farland did have some "big-picture" excitement too. That said, however, the books minuses were continued dropped plot-threads from the previous novel, unevenness in pacing and perhaps also just having too many ideas in a small package.

#Bob Shaw #The Wooden Spaceships #Books 2021 #LHS reads

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evywrites · 5 years ago

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Elation (George Weasley x Reader) pt. 1

summary : After pining after George for so long, your dreams finally come true warnings: none? oblivious reader word count: 3k (oops) writing date: Apr 6, 2020-Apr 8, 2020 a/n: i wrote this for myself to make me feel less lonely, but i thought i should post it to tumblr just incase. this is my first post to tumblr, so apologies if I’m doing anything incorrectly. also i lost the first draft of this. sad. part 2

In true Hufflepuff fashion, you’d been deep in this hole for as long as you could remember. It had always been him. You’d tried to fall for other people’s yet it didn’t work. The way he lit up a room with merely just his presence. His ability to cheer up anyone who needed it. The caring side of him that was rarely shown, but was there. Words couldn’t describe what you felt for him. He just pulled you in and kept you there, despite never having talked too much. Plus, he’s super hot. Unfortunately, he never seemed to pay any special attention to you. He’d occasionally talk to you about school, but not much more outside of that. Atleast you knew he didn’t despise your guts. You were always baffled when others changed who they fawned over each week. One week it’d be a Slytherin girl, the next it’d be a Gryffindor boy. You didn’t know if you were the strange one for never changing your crush, or if they were the weird ones for not being able to keep one.

However, over the years you’d find yourself wishing you could become like the others. Seeing him falling for others devastated you, even though he never stuck with anyone. No matter how many times you had seen him fall, it still had the same effect. You cursed yourself for being this way, falling headfirst into a hole you couldn’t drag yourself out of. You would go up into your dorm and break down, cursing yourself for falling for someone who would never like you back.

It stayed that way up until your sixth year at Hogwarts. Your feelings remained, however, they became more bearable. You could go on about your day and studies normally. You still spontaneously got sad about the inevitably of moving on from Hogwarts and never seeing him again, but you just brushed it off and enjoyed the time you had left.

You went on your year as usual, keeping up with your studies, hanging out with your friends. Everything was normal and dandy. However, something changed. You didn’t know if you were going insane or misreading signs, but George started interacting more, he started talking to you more.

It started with brief, subtle glances that you had brushed off as just a coincidence. The possibility of him liking you was unheard of at that time, as you had practically given up. However, one specific incident started to change your mindset, maybe just a tad bit.

You were on your way to the first period of the day, potions class, feeling and looking visibly miserable. No one liked first period potions, especially not you. Being yelled at while being half asleep was not fun. Potions in general, was not fun. Especially not for Hufflepuffs.

However, there was one redeeming quality of first-period potions. You had it with the Gryffindors, and George was in that class. The only reason why you’d grown to tolerate first-period potions.

You arrived at Snape’s classroom, bracing for the dark and moody atmosphere of his classroom. You entered, eyes instantly darting around to look for George. No sight of him. Crap. Whenever George wasn’t at potions, you felt absolutely miserable. All of the doom and gloom that George and Fred chased away instantly caved in on you.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily. You’d survived other classes without him before, you’ll be fine. You had your desk-mate who you were slightly acquainted with due to short-small talk you’ve had before. You’d be fine.

Setting your things down, you sat down, giving a brief nod to your deskmate on the left. You turned your attention towards Snape’s direction, getting ready to space out to somehow make up for lost sleep whilst trying not to miss so much that you totally failed potions class.

Your deskmate’s head whipped around, something that wasn’t normal. However, you thought nothing of it. You were off in space, trying to get the period over and done with as quickly as possible.

However, when your deskmate got up and moved, that piqued your interest. You came out of your daze, and glanced to your right. What you saw there, absolutely freaking shocked you.

It was George Weasley, Sitting. Next to you. Not beside his brother. But next to you. What in Merlin’s name.

So many questions were streaming through your head at a cut-throat pace. Your eyes grew wide with surprise for a split-second. Wrestling with your body language, you tried to suppress the pure shock and confusion that would be shown. Instead, you tried to subdue it to something nonchalant. You don’t think he noticed. Hopefully not. It was probably obvious. Oh no.

He got settled in, shot you a smile that made you feel like you were gonna melt and die inside. You felt like your cheeks were on fire. What the heck was happening? Why was George sitting next to you?

“Hello, I’m sitting here now if you don’t mind. My dear Freddie over there has pushed me to my limits and I can no longer tolerate him.” He joked, holding his hand out in greeting.

You mustered up a small smile, sending him a small wave in response. To you, that was a majour accomplishment. Before, you could not have even come within his general vicinity without wanting to run away. However, you couldn’t win them all, as you had failed to process that he held his hand out for a handshake. Heck. Do you shake his hand or is it too late to be socially acceptable to shake his hand by now and it’ll be super awkward? Or- oh it’s too late. He awkwardly pulled his hand back. Crap. Why didn’t you shake his hand? Did you just ruin whatever the hell was going on? Oh no.

You didn’t hear the snickering, nor did you see the look that George had sent his brother. You were too busy trying to sort out the thoughts that swirled aggressively around in your head.

Snape called for the class’ attention, preventing any further conversation from happening. Snape announced that it would not be a practical lesson today, which you would usually groan internally at, but this time you just thanked Merlin. You’d probably lose focus and end up splashing a defective potion all over yourself, which would not be fun.

During the lecture, George occasionally leaned over to murmur a joke at the expense of Snape that made you giggle lightly under your breath, as his jokes always had. A side effect of that was your cheeks burning up even more than they already had due to the feeling of him being so close to you, but you were fine with that. You had only hoped that he didn’t notice.

As the lesson went on, you found that you had been paying even less attention than usual, which you didn’t think was possible, but how were you supposed to pay attention when the George Weasley was sitting next to you? Why was he even sitting here anyway? His seat was on the other side of the room with his brother and all his friends. Why was he sitting here?

You didn’t want the class to end, however, unfortunately, it inevitably ended. Students filed out swiftly, rushing to get to their next class.

"See you later, y/n.“ George waved, getting up and walking off to join his brother and the others.

You slowly stood up, still questioning what in the world just happened. Was this all some kind of bad dream? It couldn’t be, you would’ve woken up by now. You collected your stuff before walking out of the classroom, mindlessly heading to your next class whilst having an internal discussion about what just happened.

It’s been many years crushing on one particular person, and that person just sat next to you out of nowhere. He told jokes to you like you were an old friend. What in the world was happening?

There had to be a reasonable explanation. He wouldn’t just do this out of the blue. It must’ve been one of his pranks. You know what, he’s probably only done that to be nice. He probably noticed you staring at him and wanted to kindly reject you. That’s it. It means nothing. Why would he suddenly start liking you out of the blue? That doesn’t logically make sense. Either that or he got dared. Of course, it’d be amazing if he did it because he liked you, but those were the most logical answers.

However, throughout the day, you kept looking forward to telling your friends and getting their opinion on the situation. You’d always went to them whenever you had false hope and they’d always give you their honest opinion to keep your hopes at a reasonable level. They’re the perfect people to keep your mind in check and not get your hopes up over something that was not genuine.

When the last period ended, you darted over to the spot near the Black Lake where you and your friends usually hung out after school to wind down after a long day. Normally you would just walk, however you needed to get the morning’s events off of your chest as soon as you could. Unfortunately, your last class was Astronomy, so you had a long way to go before you could reach your destination.

Severely out of breath, you made it. You raced towards your friends who’d been sitting in their usual positions, lightly chattering. At the sight of you, they stopped and had a concerned look on their faces.

"You look like you just ran from the top of Hogwarts down, what happened? Did George kiss you or something?” Eve, your friend, teased. Your cheeks instantly flared up at the mention of George’s name causing your friends to laugh.

"Sort of. Kind of, maybe.“ You answered, plopping down onto your usual spot with your friends. They stopped laughing then, looking intrigued at what you had to say.

Then you recounted the story, all of your internal thoughts and confusion spilling out for your friends to analyze. You put an emphasis on the extreme confusion you were feeling, because that was the emotion that was dominant at that moment. No words would’ve ever explained the pure confusion, but you tried to the best of your ability. Once you finished, you looked up to see them all with wide grins on their faces.

"That’s definitely something. It can’t mean nothing. George has never done that to anyone before. You might have a chance.” Eve stated, the others nodding along to what she said. You tried to argue the points that you had mentally stated earlier, but they just shut you down swiftly, insisting that you were just finding an excuse to have a negative mindset.

You felt conflicted, you knew that you could trust your friends and that they’d always give their honest opinion on the situation, but you were feeling a bit skeptical. Things like that didn’t just happen to you, especially not with George. He’d always been someone out of reach, someone so far from what was possible that you had taken the most pessimistic mindset.

"You need to seize this opportunity. He’s definitely interested in at least becoming friends with you. We all agreed in the past that you’d rather be a friend than to be nothing to him, and he’s already made the first move, so just go for it.“ Eve continued, her Ravenclaw nature shining through.

You slowly nodded, beginning to work on accepting this bizarre reality. The fear of it all just being one of his pranks still lingered in your mind, but you tried to brush it off and trust your friends.

George continued throughout the next few weeks. It started with him passing you in the hallway and waving to you, then many more little things that made you feel like you were on fire. Him smiling at you whenever he saw you. Him always being helpful with your potion. Eventually, it turned into him resting his arm casually around your shoulder, reducing you into a bushing mess, but he never commented on it.

To your amazement, you had instantly clicked as friends and had started to hang out more outside of class, which you were grateful for. You could have long discussions about literally anything. Occasionally, reality would sink in and you’d get extremely flustered mid-conversation, however you think he didn’t notice, thankfully. Hopefully, you were hiding your exponentially growing crush on him just as well. It was all so bizarre, but you were glad that it happened. You were glad that George miraculously decided to sit next to you in potions class and decide that you were mildly interesting enough to want to be friends with you.

Weeks went by, you and George became closer as friends. Your crush on him still raged on, however you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you two now had. It was a miracle that you didn’t think to be possible, you didn’t want to screw it up.

The last period of the day had ended, you just began the walk down to the Great Lake. You were fully prepared to have a nice mental conversation with yourself about whatever, however that plan didn’t exactly go as planned. "Hey,” George flung a casual arm around your shoulder as you tried to begin your walk to the hangout spot by the Black Lake. You went in whatever direction he led you in, forgetting about your initial destination. Your friends would understand if you were a bit late. “Fred and I are going to go practice and hangout at the Quidditch pitch. Do you wanna come and watch? You can do other stuff, of course, it’d just be nice to have you there. I checked with Freddie and he said it’s fine of course.” You nodded, completely forgetting about your plans with your friends

You two strolled through Hogwarts, his arm still casually draped around you, making you blush. You talked about your days and other meaningless things while walking down to the Quidditch pitch. Time flew by, and before you know it, you’re there.

Much to your dismay, George removed his arm and told you to wait up a minute. You obeyed, sitting down on the pitch floor, peering up at the sky, thinking to yourself. How did you even get here? You’ve been pining after him for years and then this year he just suddenly starts talking to you. Don’t get you wrong, you were absolutely grateful, just confused.

To be honest, you were also scared. Scared that he had noticed your crush on him earlier, and was just playing with your emotions like some kind of cruel prank. You weren’t prepared for the heartbreak if that were the case.

Movement on your right snapped you out of your train of thought. You looked to the right and saw Fred. You’d talked to him before when you were with George, so you weren’t complete strangers. “Before Georgie comes back, I just wanted to ask that you don’t be too harsh on ickle Georgie. He’s usually not like this and I had to bully him into doing this.” Fred smiled at you, patting you on the back before standing up to go greet George who was carrying their Quidditch equipment. George passed off Fred’s broom to him before taking off, sending you a smile. You smiled a bit back, still dumbfounded and confused at what Fred had said. Don’t be too harsh? What did he mean by that? It couldn’t possibly mean what you thought. There was no way that would happen. They proceeded to pelt the bludger back and forth, goofing off and doing the weirdest tricks. You were aware that George gave you the option to do other things, but you could watch those two forever. They included you in their banter, somehow shouting loud enough so that you could hear each other. It was pure bliss, being able to just hang out and enjoy time with the two. It was still strange to you, but you weren’t going to question it anymore.

Time flew by extremely fast, and soon enough, it was time to go back in. You were sad, but you enjoyed the time. George and Fred came down, sweaty but smiling. Fred headed off with their brooms and Quidditch things, leaving George and you alone.

“Hey, uh.” George started, stopping you both in your tracks. Your heart rate sped up, oh no. Is this what Fred was talking about? You turned to face him, unconsciously admiring his eyes, a habit that you had not been able to shake even when you became friends. “So um. I know it’s been really weird with me just coming out of the blue and wanting to be your friend, but uh. I think you’re really cool and would you fancy going out to Hogsmeade with me? As a date?” George looked extremely out of character, unable to hold eye contact with you. The confidence that he usually radiated when he was with his brother doing pranks was not there. Holy crap. Did that just happen? You would need a full hour to process that. Unfortunately, you did not have that time. All of the insecure thoughts from the beginning of these events came flooding back in. What if this was just a prank? His body language said otherwise. You should probably just do it, it’s been what you wanted forever. Besides, he can’t know that you had a crush on him for forever, right? Has it been too long? You should probably respond.

Before you could think any more, the words came spilling out of you, “Yes.” George instantly looked up, grinning widely “Great. I’ll meet you, yeah? This great. Thanks!” He exclaimed, and without thinking, pecking your cheek quickly before running off toward Fred who you just noticed was lurking. You stood there, dumbfounded. Did the George Weasley just ask you out on a date? The past weeks have been a blur of shockedness and happiness, but this just topped it. You did not know what was happening, but you loved it.

You walked in a trance back to your dorm room, fully ready to explain this to your friends. They’d be so shocked. Oh, crap, your friends. Eh they’d understand once you explained. part 2 thanks for reading :)

#george weasley x reader #harry potter #hp #george #weasley #fred weasley #fluff #pining #kinda a mess #fanfiction #fanfic

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skvaderarts · 4 years ago

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Apocrypha Chapter Three: Indemnification

Sorry it’s so late! I way overslept! Not kidding, I literally slept for 18 hours straight. Had no idea that was possible!

Chapter Three: Indemnification

Note: A special thank you to EctoPanda for leaving me a dozen comments in one day. Never in the entire time that I've been writing fan fiction have I ever gotten that many comments in one day. It really made me smile. Also, I had a wonderful time talking to RubixaSeraph and lightjakrises, too! I'm glad you're both enjoying the story!

-~-

Dante was almost positive that it wasn't possible for a single room to contain any more anxiety and animosity than it currently did.

Wisely taking the hint from her previous encounter with Vergil, Trish had made herself scarce for the last week or so, only now coming to the office to check on things. She and Lady had been working on a smaller case for Morrison that didn't strictly require both of them to complete. It was more so out of a desire to put some reasonable distance between themselves and the eldest Son of Sparda for the time being, who anyone with eyes could tell possessed a less than positive disposition towards the blond devil. Given these irrefutable facts, they were truly baffled by the fact that they were currently sitting on the couch in Dante's place of residence, the eldest of the twins and their collective relationship with him now the conflict of the day.

Lady folded her arms disobediently, unwilling to humor this argument. Dante hadn't even said anything yet, but she already had a feeling that she knew what this last minute meeting was going to be about. Her feelings about and towards Vergil were… complicated. While she had come to the conclusion a lifetime ago that he was, at most, only partially responsible for what had happened with her family, he had still done some terrible things in the time she'd known him. Her father had made the decision to sacrifice her mother before he'd met Vergil's involvement. She knew that. But it was still difficult for her to comprehend the fact that he was alive and back in the human world, especially considering that this was the second time he'd been directly involved in a demonic invasion. In fact, it was somehow even worse this time!

"Ok, so let me guess, Dante. You're going to ask us to be friendly with Vergil, right?" Lady said bluntly, She didn't seem upset so much as she seemed to be trying to repress the urge to shoot him again.

Trish said nothing, simply glancing between the two of them. While she and Lady sat at opposite ends of the couch, Dante stood in front of them. The subject of this particular conversation was nowhere to be seen, assumedly in some other part of the house. He'd practically ceased to exist just before they had arrived, having spent the day quietly sitting on the couch looking genuinely disinterested before that. Dante was starting to realize that his older twin didn't really have any hobbies besides stabbing him when they disagree with one another, at least none that he ever saw him indulge in. He was almost tempted to start something with his brother just to provide him with entertainment, but he wasn't quite that insane just yet.

"No, not really," Dante said with a half laugh, expecting them to not be thrilled about this," He's just... you know. He said he'd "tolerate" you. Just don't get him upset, ok? It'd be nothing but trouble."

Trish nodded, still not adding vocal input to the discussion. She seemed to be deep in thought; about what, he honestly had no clue. Dante was more than certain that whatever issues they had ran deeper than he knew and that they were going to have to work them out on their own. He just needed them to do it without killing one another. Things were getting increasingly tense as the days passed, and the younger Son of Sparda had the feeling that something bad would come from all of this.

Lady looked as though she was going to ask him what he meant by that statement before a look of realisation crossed her face. She glanced over at Trish, seemingly considering asking her something but unsure as to if she should or not. While she knew about how Trish and Dante had met and some of the events from Malet island, she didn't know all the fine details. They had never concerned her. But now she couldn't help but think that Vergil might be involved in some way since that was the only time period that she could think of where they could have met and found a source of conflict. This couldn't be based purely off of the blond devil's appearance matching that of the twins deceased mother, though she was certain that fact contributed to it. Now that she thought about it, she was glad that Vergil had no specific reason to hate her. It seemed like a hassle.

"We have… history. It's complicated. I'll take it up with him later. As much as I'd like to, I can't avoid the topic forever." Trish said simply as she glanced up from her position at the far end of the couch. Her eyes traveled across the room towards something behind Dante. He shook his head in silent self conformation as Lady glanced over, a somewhat confused look on her face as if she did not understand something.

"Yes, quite right" Vergil said as he approached in relative silence from behind the desk, only alerting them of his presence by speaking," But this isn't the time. It seems we have company..."

Dante sighed knowingly before glancing over at the front door to the office. Vergil spared him a brief but questioning glance as the doors opened and a young woman with long, semi curly blond hair and blue eyes stormed in, coming to a stop with her hands on her hips. Morrison flanked her, clearly suppressing the urge to laugh at something. He seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Vergil glanced over at her curiously. He'd never seen her before in his entire life. From what he could tell, she was a few years younger than his own children.

"Hey Patty! I didn't know you were in town… what are you-" Dante said almost tenitavely before she held her hand up to stop him. She was clearly livid and, from what Vergil could tell, everyone in the room aside from him seemed to know why.

"Oh, don't play stupid, Dante! You know exactly why I'm here!" Vergil's assumption that she was angry proved to be correct as she took him to task, stepping closer and furrowing her brow in abject rage. " You totally blew me off on my birthday, you jerk! Why would you do that?! I was so excited to have you meet all my friends! And then you just disappeared for like three months! I thought you were dead! Where have you been?! You better have a good explanation for all of this because I'm so upset with you right now!"

Vergil did a massive internal double take as a look of embarrassment crossed his twin brother's face. He didn't need to ask if she was telling the truth. Clearly she was. But what he did intend to get sorted out was her relationship with his younger twin. Who on earth was this woman and why did she have such an effect on Dante. He was absolutely going to stab his twin if he found out he was in a relationship with her. After all, she was young enough to be his…

Oh.

There was simply no way. Could she be…?

"Yea, um… I was taking care of something important," Dante said as he gestured towards his twin with a tilt of his head," Nothing personal, I just don't do birthday parties."

Patty exhaled in irritation, her eyes finally catching sight of Vergil. She lowered and unfolded her arms slowly, looking equal parts alarmed and perplexed. She then migrated one of her arms back to her hip, a slight smile ghosting across her lips. She nodded to herself as if thinking before speaking.

"So um, who are you? I don't think we've met." She said, setting her fury aside for a moment in order to appear more cordial," I'm patty Lowell. And your…?"

The eldest of the twins stared at her in silence for a long moment, contemplating if he had the mental energy for this today. After resigning himself to the fact that interacting with her was probably the quickest way to stop all the yelling and petty hostility that was going on, he sighed and shook his head, sparing a glance between his twin and the young woman before answering her.

"Vergil. His older brother." He said as he gestured offhandedly towards Dante," How did you come to be in the company of this misfit?"

Patty smiled and snickered, giving Dante a grumpy but somewhat more playful look. "Oh, he tried to help me out when I was a little kid. I've just kinda hung around ever since. But he still owes me a birthday party, a couple of outfits, and like fifteen ice cream cones! Maybe you can talk some responsibility into him since you're his older brother. You look more reasonable than he does! I had no idea he had a brother! Are you guys twins or something?"

Although his brain was still processing the barrage of statements she had let fly, he nodded, throwing Dante an unreadable look. "Identical twins, actually. And I'm afraid he may be a lost cause. I'd give up now while you're ahead if I were you."

Patty smacked Dante with her purse, huffing in irritation as he yelped in surprise. "Who forgets to tell people they have an identical twin, Dante! Rude!"

Dante rubbed his arm in slight discomfort, taken off guard once again by how shockingly strong she was. He was having war flashbacks to the time she'd knocked him senseless with a broom. Or had it been a mop. All he remembered was it hurting and him storming out. That, and the fact that he had hurt her feelings then, too. This was a pattern with her, wasn't it. Yikes.

"She's basically his daughter. He's even said so a few times," Lady said casually from the couch as she watched the world burn around her," This sort of thing happens a lot, I've noticed. He owes her a lot of stuff at this point. Like that trip to the beach she's been asking for for like ten years. Morrison, am I forgetting anything?"

Morrison shrugged but nodded, having lost count a long time ago. The youngest Son of Sparda shot his friend a horrified look as Patty unleashed a barrage of smacks with her handbag, huffing from the effort. "Yea, when are we taking that trip to the beach?! You've been putting that off for a lifetime, Dante! What gives? Do you... just not like me?"

Dante stopped her, finally getting a grip on the bag so she couldn't swing it anymore. He shook his head, seemingly startled by her statement. "No no, it's nothing like that. I just… I don't know what to tell you, Patty."

Vergil repressed the urge to smirk wickedly at the thought that occurred to him in that moment. "Why don't you make everything up to her by honoring her request to go on this trip to the ocean? That would settle things, wouldn't it?"

If it had been possible, Dante would have frozen sollid upon hearing his twin brother's suggestion. Was his twin actually giving him advice on how to deal with his surrogate daughter? Had Vergil rolled out of the bed and cracked his head open on the bedside table this morning? What had gotten into him? Was he genuinely trying to be more reasonable. The younger of the two had a feeling that he could find out easy enough…

"That wouldn't be much of a party, would it, brother? I mean, if everyone here went, that would still only be, what, six people? You should invite Nero and V. You know, get to know them better." Dante barely hid the snakish grin threatening to spread across his face as he spoke. On the one hand, he knew that his brother probably detested the beach and everything about it almost as much as he hated having meaningful conversations with members of his family. But on the other hand, was he really going to turn down both the opportunity to get to know both of his sons better and the challenge issued by his younger twin? Especially when that challenge had been issued in front of an audience?

No way in hell.

The eldest of Sparda's sons looked at his brother like he wanted to tear his vocal cords out of his throat with his bare hands. And that wasn't even out of the realm of possibility. He was more than likely capable of doing just that. Vergil folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes, white hot fury replacing the blood that used to course through his veins. Dante wanted to play games with him, did he? Fine then. He wouldn't allow him to win so easily. "They are going to say no, you know that, don't you?" "I don't think so. I mean, V probably isn't going to really say anything and Nero," Dante laughed slightly," He'd never miss the opportunity to make you as uncomfortable as you make him. Besides, you haven't talked to them in a week. Why miss the opportunity?"

Because I'd rather die than sit in sand all day in the baking heat Vergil thought to himself as he let out a long, agonized sigh. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Dante made a good point. This was a good opportunity for him to spend time with them. He needed to figure out how to speak with them both at some point in the future, especially V. They had almost no dialogue to speak of and there were countless issues to address. Not to mention that he needed to look into this cult that might still be hunting him down. Being able to speak with his eldest son would help facilitate that. It was… unfortunate.

Vergil cursed himself internally. He was starting to wish he'd stayed in the underworld.

"... Fine then… I shall contact Nero, Vergil said begrudgingly as he crossed the office and headed over to the phone on his brother's desk. He hated making phone calls, too. They were far too impersonal for his tastes. "Don't make me regret doing this, Dante."

Dante shrugged and gave all three girls a glance before shooting Morrison a murderous look for daring to bring Patty over with him. He'd probably come to talk business, but the included show had been a bonus for him. Only one thing ever happened when he brought Patty over with him and he knew it. He'd probably been planning this for a long time. And now Lady and Trish were probably going to take patty bathing suit shopping and find some way to tack it onto his existing debt.

The younger twin smirked to himself as he watched Vergil try and fail once again to understand how the office phone worked. At least they would both be miserable for a change. And they had never gone on a vacation together before. Or spent any meaningful time together since they had been young children. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so awful after all.

-~-

I'm utterly horrified by how late this chapter is. Have you ever started working on something important and then fell asleep only to wake up the next night and still have nothing done? That's what I did with this chapter. Once I realized it was going to be late, I decided to take the plunge and flesh it out more, but I'm still super sorry that this was so late. I'll start working on the next chapter later on today after I get some rest. I pulled an all nighter working on this one, so I hope it's to your liking. And once again, sorry for the mega late upload. Forgive me, please! See you on Wednesday!

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asgardlover75 · 5 years ago

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Steal Away

So I decided to venture outside of my comfort zone and write a short. And, if you’re gonna go big then why not start with Mimi’s One Hit Wonder challenge. I chose Robbie Dupree’s Steal Away because it’s one of my favorite songs from the 80′s, which honestly isn’t saying much. I’m a sucker for good and bad 80′s music.

Pairing - Bucky X OFC

Warnings - None

Word Count - 1911

Synopsis - Bucky is at a wedding.

@captain-rogers-beard congrats on reaching the milestone!

Weddings in this century never ceased to confound him. People were much crazier, mostly in a good way, and there definitely wasn’t as much stuffiness as there was back in the day. He’d been to quite a few in the last handful of years and the one he was currently attending was no exception. Jacket slung over the back of his seat, the knot of his tie resting in the center of his chest, he probably looked disheveled but didn’t care. His hair that had once been tied back completely in a bun, was now bent on escaping one piece at a time.

Bucky stretched his legs out in front of him, slouching down in his chair and crossing his aching legs at the ankle. The chair was extremely uncomfortable but his guess is that they weren’t meant to sit in for long. The atmosphere of the room was one of happiness and while he did share in the feeling he was not about to join in the craziness he had been viewing all night.

All around him tables were empty but littered with various purses and jackets and the remnants of dinner being cleaning up by the event staff. He tipped the beer he was nursing up to his lips and chuckled at those dancing on the floor. Cheesy music has been playing over the speakers all night, multi-colored lights dancing around to the beat of whatever song was playing.

He was genuinely enjoying himself right now surrounded mostly by his ‘family’.

A chuckle escaped him as he watched the mass of bodies on the floor react to the current song that was playing.

A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit louder now A little bit louder now A little bit louder now

A slow song eventually came on and the bodies on the floor dispersed, drifting back to their seats or to refresh themselves with another drink. A few people headed his direction and he felt a warm sensation envelop him. Wanda, MJ and Maria were giggling as they neared, arms linked together and faces flushed from their antics on the floor. The three women sat heavily in their seats, reaching for their drinks as they continued talking.

Wanda met his gaze and smiled.

“She went to get some water. Said she’d be right back.” She was yelling over the noise of the room but he had no issues hearing her. Bucky simply gave her a nod and returned to his people watching as he waited. Now that there had been a mass exodus of the dance floor he could see across the room. Steve stood with Nat, Bruce and Rhodey, his best friend’s right arm waving as he had told a story, the group laughing at his words. His left arm was wrapped around Nat, who wore a radiant smile, her affectionate gaze not on the man talking, but the one standing next to her. Bruce held a drink in his hand, probably some sort of juice if Bucky had to guess, and was listening intently to the big blonde man.

Bucky smiled when Bruce reached over slowly to grab Nat’s hand. He made no move to pull his now wife from one of their closest friends. It always amazed him how casual the group was in their affection. Though it had taken him a while to be comfortable with touches other than Steve’s, the group had finally broken through his shell. Now Nat and Wanda were free to ruffle his hair or skim a hand over his back as they walked past him and he didn’t jump in surprise.

The ceremony had been short and thankfully not stuffy, the perfect thing for a former spy and a man with breathtaking anger management issues. Tony had ordained himself so they could limit the amount of people at the actual ceremony, and because Tony loved being the center of attention. He had been brief with his words, a surprise, but definitely managed to get a few jabs in here and there. Bruce and Nat had only wanted their closest friends to be with them and even though the reception had a few more people it definitely wasn’t a huge affair.

Movement to the left of the dance floor caught his eye and he couldn’t help the grin that split his face at the person walking his direction. Long blonde hair fell over tanned shoulders, left bare by her dress. Her normally average height was adjusted by the hot as hell red heels she wore on her feet. Those heels had almost made them late to the damn ceremony after she had pulled them out of the closet earlier. Only the promise of leaving them on when they got home allowed them to get out the door.

The colorful flowers that adorned the white dress came into sharper view the closer she moved to the table. A modest V-neck only hinted at what he knew was underneath and the skirt fell to mid-calf as he watched it swish around her. Bucky’s eyes rose to meet her gaze and his grin deepened at the happy look on her face. Walking up to his left side, she leaned into him, bending down to kiss his lips gently and run her right hand against the side of his head.

“Hey handsome. You keeping yourself entertained over here without me?” She asked, her affectionate gaze warming him. Bucky wrapped his metal arm around the top of her legs and squeezed gently, pulling her body into his.

“I’m better now that you’re back.” He murmured, her chuckle warming him from the inside.

Jordan had quickly become a figure in their little group after she started at Stark Industries. While she might be beautiful on the outside, inside she was a fucking genius with numbers and schedules. She had quickly earned her place working with Pepper and had eventually started working on Avengers accounts after proving herself invaluable.

She was always outgoing and kind to the others and hadn’t even fan-girled over any of the team when she finally met them. Cool, calm and collected was her mantra at work but Jordan was definitely a girl that liked to have fun. Wanda had invited her to game night about six months after she started and the rest was history.

It had taken her a bit of time to get Bucky to relax when she was around but eventually she won him over. She arranged a tour, behind the scenes, at the Hayden planetarium in the city or his birthday after Nat had let it slip that Bucky was a huge space nerd. Jordan hadn’t hesitated to use the resources at her disposal to give the man who had been through so much a day he would remember for a long time. If anyone deserved the experience, it was Bucky she had told Pepper.

Now, two years later, she was as much a part of the group as anyone else and sometimes helped them prepare for missions. It helped that she was as big a nerd as the rest of them, though her drug of choice was music. There had been many times Bucky had found her in Tony’s lab arguing with him about some band or type of music at insane hours of the day. The talks with Sam were more civilized and she had definitely broadened the horizons of two super soldiers in the area of music.

Bucky drained his beer and placed the bottle on the table. Standing, he pulled Jordan closer, his lips covering hers in a gentle kiss as pulled her towards the floor. A slow song had just started and he hadn’t danced with her yet tonight. She followed without complaint, despite how tired she was from the dancing she had been doing so far.

Pulling her flush with his body, Bucky settled his hands on her hips, burying his nose in her neck. He felt a calm settle over him, her arms coming up to wrap around him, hands linking together under his bun. His eyes slid closed as he felt her humming the current song that was playing, and he just existed for a bit.

They danced through two songs like this before he lifted his head and smiled down at her. The noise around him came back into focus and he felt weariness seep into him. As much as Bucky was enjoying holding Jordan on the dance floor he really was reaching his quota for being around other people for the night. Sighing deeply, he turned his head to place a kiss on her temple then spoke quietly in her ear.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“You mean steal away?” Bucky gave her a confused look, especially considering Jordan seemed to be holding back a smile. Hesitantly, he decided to play along.

“Yeah.”

“So you wanna steal away, into the night?” Her mouth tilted up into a slight grin causing his left eyebrow to raise.

“Yeah doll. That's what I said.”

“Hmm. Well that doesn’t seem right.” Jordan murmured, a look of concentration on her face. It took two seconds for him to realize what was happening.

“What the....it’s another damn song isn't it?” She finally did laugh, out loud, a chagrined look on her face. Jordan had the insane ability to make mundane or simple comments from others into a song. If someone said turn around, she was singing Bonnie Tyler without missing a beat.

“Yes. One of my favorites. I'm sorry. I can’t help myself.”

“I know babe I just wish I got the damn references more. So who is this song by?”

“Robbie Dupree.”

“What else does he sing? Anything I would know? That you’ve forced me to listen to.” Jordan smacked his arm at the cheeky comment but answered his question anyway.

“Nope. He was a one hit wonder.”

“A what?”

“That is the only song that was a hit. The rest of his stuff sucked. Or at least someone thought so. “

“That's harsh.”

“I don’t make the rules. I just enjoy the songs.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his head shaking at her words and pulled her close to finish dancing to the current song. When it came to an end, he moved back to leave the floor, the notes of the next song starting softly. Before he moved two steps Jordan laughed loudly, causing him to turn and look at her in confusion.

Leaning close to him, she told him to listen and watched his face as the words register to him. He laughed, changing direction and pulled her back against him as they listened.

“Well that’s ironic.” Bucky joked, pulling Jordan closer.

“Not really.” Her words confuse him until he looks over in the direction she is. Steve is standing there, talking to a group of people with a smile on his face. He takes a drink of his beer and nods his head slightly as if to acknowledge it was his doing.

“Sneaky super soldier.”

“Are you complaining?”

Bucky gazes down into her face, his lips turning up in a half grin.

“Hell no doll. I owe the punk now. Let’s go home so I can get a closer look at those damn heels.”

Steal Away

Robbie Dupree

C'mon and hold me Just like you told me Then show me What I want to know

Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Into the night I know it ain't right Tease me, why don't you please me Then show me What you came here for

Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Into the night I know it ain't right Into the night babe Make it tonight ooohh

I caught you glancing my way And I know what you're after (no second chances tonight)

Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Into the night

I know it ain't right Into the night I know it ain't right Why don't we steal away I know it ain't right Into the night, babe Why don't we steal away Make it tonight Why don't we steal away

#Mimi’s One Hit Wonder Challenge #Bucky/OFC #cheezy80smusic 80srule

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relationshipsandpolitics · 5 years ago

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Part 3

Since I last posted, we’ve gotten word that a certain rich asshole is going to enter the race. Now, I could do 500 words on why this guy is awful, but it would sort of go against my belief that just because someone is really rich does not mean we need to pay extra attention to them and their thoughts. This guy is not winning the nomination, won’t even poll about 3% in most states, and overall is not worth the amount ink that will surely be spilled on his campaign. Next.

Joe Biden. Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders

So we are down to the final 3. One of those 3 objectively should have been culled much earlier. If I was doing this purely based on the level of support for each candidate, this guy would have been cut about 8 candidates ago. But Joe Biden is still the front runner, consistently leading national polls and absolutely killing it in several early primary states like South Carolina. Biden remains popular among black voters, who serve as the lifeblood of the Democratic party. Even though his policies and personality suck, he is unique from all the other shitty centrist candidates. So he gets his own takedown.

Joe Biden is a very old man hoping to blind the voters with his connection to President Obama. And for the most part, it’s working like a charm. Forget the fact that he is a rambling, incoherent mess during campaign stops. Forget his abysmal views on race, including his support for segregated busing and racist colleagues. Forget the fact this guy railroaded Anita Hill and still can’t sufficiently apologize to her. Forget all the bad parts of Joe Biden. That’s what he is banking on. Biden is trying to win not based on policy or his strategy for improving the lives of everyday Americans. No, he is trying to win by painting a false image of who he is and how electable he would be. Biden is basing his entire campaign on appealing to low-key racist white suburbanites who don’t want to pay more taxes. That’s his base. And it’s not an awful strategy. But it highlights something terrible about the Democratic voter.

The average Democratic primary voter appears to support progressive causes. They want to see Social Security expanded. They support a $15 minimum wage and gun control. They support paid family leave and some form of universal health care. But the average Democratic voter of a certain age, race and class level doesn’t want to fight for those things. Because while they agree with those policies in principle, they won’t be that affected by them, and more importantly, would have to pay more in taxes. So they say they support these goals yet refuse to put any skin into the game to achieve them. The other possibility is that they would support enacting these policies and paying a bit more, but they don’t think anyone else would and thus think we need to support the least-controversial candidate. No one really likes Joe Biden, or if they do, no one can really identify what exactly he is running for. Even though health care remains a joke in this country, Biden isn’t arguing to make it better. He isn’t supporting a wealth tax. What is this man running on except a vague idea about returning dignity to the American worker. Yet voters still support him, either because they know he actually won’t change anything (except make it ok to be gay again) or because they think not changing anything is the only way for a Democrat to win.

The American voter (not just Democratic voters) collectively is a stupid person. They personally want a politician to enact massive change to better their lives, yet believe the ideal candidate is a moderate who won’t do anything major, and still someone in doing nothing substantial, will improve their lives. Then, just to double down on that stupidity, they will vote the opposition party into power in Congress to ensure nothing happens, all because they love compromise. Of course, the last thirty years of politics have shown that bipartisanship is a myth.

The American voter is both very ignorant and very naïve. We accept that. But it’s tougher to accept that from our politicians. At a recent fundraiser for millionaires, Biden touted his sincere belief that when Trump goes, Republicans will have an epiphany and start working with him to make our country better. Folks, this is disqualifying. The sheer insanity of that belief needs to be a deal breaker. Biden, in the very same speech to the very same contingent of rich assholes, said that he personally called dozens of Republicans to get Merrick Garland on the Supreme Court. The Republicans said no and pulled a move so disgusting and unprecedented that we will never see something worse in our lifetimes. And this was all before Trump was even nominated.

Joe Biden is an idiot. He also is in the bag of the rich. He regularly attends fundraisers hosted by lobbyists for some of the most nefarious industries. His campaign is mostly funded by Wall Street and Health Insurance. And how do you think he’ll govern once in office? Will he go after these bad actors? Or will he appoint them to his Cabinet? Remember, this is the guy who worked in an administration that wanted Larry Summers as Fed Chief. He appointed Timothy Geithner as Secretary of the Treasury.

Joe Biden would continue the worst aspects of Obama’s administration without all the good stuff. He’d be in his late 80’s by the time his second term ended, too. For the love of all that we hold holy, we cannot nominate Biden.

It is now time for the top two candidates. I would happily vote for either of these candidates, so my choice for one is not a slight on the other. Each candidate has issues, but they are minor compared to what they bring to the table. So I urge you to vote early and often for either of them.

Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders

A presidential candidate should make you excited to vote for them. It can’t just be “I can’t vote for the other guy so I guess you’ll do.” It’s a recipe for disaster. People need a reason to take a couple hours of their day, find parking, wait in a long line, deal with eighty-year old volunteers who yell at you to close the curtain more, and then go into work and deal with their daily amount of shit. People need a reason to see the process of voting as exciting.

I think Bernie and Elizabeth are the only two candidates one can reasonably get excited about. I’m not saying everyone will be excited by them because a lot of people don’t support their policies. I call these people assholes. But can anyone honestly say they are excited to vote for Amy Klobuchar or Joe Biden? Even if you support their bland policy proposals which consist of “we need better jobs but fuck if I know how to do that.”

But which one to choose?

I’m going to start with Bernie. The negatives against him are one of perception rather than reality, but in politics its not the truth that wins out but what you can convince people the truth is. And Bernie will definitely be portrayed as an out-of-touch Socialist. While the youngins like the word “socialism” the majority of the electorate is still scared to death of the term because they equate social democratic government as the Soviet Union and bread lines. In other words, most people are stupid. Sanders best hope would be to hammer home how amazing European countries are, the benefits they enjoy without all the negatives that Republicans conjure up in places like Venezuela. Unfortunately, Republican messaging still rules the day. Even if you could strap a person in a chair and explain point by point why Sweden and Denmark work as social democracies, they still wouldn’t get it.

Trump will absolutely attack Bernie for being a socialist, and the problem compared to the other candidates he would attack for being a socialist is that the suburban Democratic voters would actually believe him. Bernie absolutely will upend the system, and a lot of people are still benefiting from that system. People like my parents. They have a good amount of money but are not rich. Taxes going up on them will impact their daily lives, and most of the benefits Bernie is advocating for would not benefit them. There is a lot of good research out there that suggests the key for Democrats to win across the board is to get the suburban moderate vote. And there is a legitimate argument that Bernie will not get that vote. Now, one can say that those voters would never vote for Trump. But you must remember a very important thing about politics: white people can get pretty racist when they think you’ll take money away from them.

But here’s what I love about Bernie. He is entirely genuine in his advocacy for the poor and working class. Most politicians say they care, of course. They give a speech supporting raising the minimum wage or not cutting Medicaid. But they also tie themselves with rich donors and businesses whenever they can. They support the poor until there is a good reason not to. Not Bernie. He’s been singing the same tune since the sixties. He doesn’t care if it isn’t popular. He’ll make it become popular. Bernie almost single handedly shifted the conversation on universal health care. We are talking about paid family leave and free college because of him. And the man deserves credit for that.

Bernie has been hit a lot from the Democratic establishment. People are still sore that he had the audacity to challenge Hillary Clinton. Even though he endorsed and campaigned heavily for her after dropping out in 2016, there is still a narrative that he sabotaged her campaign. Let’s be clear, though. The reason why the establishment Democratic contingency dislikes Bernie is because he thinks they are just as corrupt as the Republicans. Which is true. Democrats work out of the same bubble as Republicans. They rub shoulders with the same Wall Street donors. Try calling up your Democratic Senator to get an in-person meeting. Now look at who does get those meetings. I support Bernie because he actually is trying to change our corrupt political system. A politician can’t work within the given system without being corrupted by it. The system is a cancer that needs to be destroyed.

Bernie has said some dumb things and has held some dumb positions. This can’t be denied. He’s been accused of being a racist, sexist and homophobe. Some of this is absolute bullshit and some of it is based on dumb things he’s said. But judging by the policies the man has supported, the votes he has taken, and what he has said during the 2016 and 2020 campaigns, does anyone honestly believe him to be a racist, sexist or homophobe?

If you are having a tough time getting behind Bernie, I’d ask yourself the following questions:

Do you honestly believe he would pursue anti-women and anti-reproductive rights policies?

Do you think a more robust paid family leave policy, along with a policy promoting affordable childcare, would significantly benefit women?

Do you think Bernie would restrict LGBTQ rights or would he expand protections for this group?

Do you genuinely believe Bernie would support or champion policies that would discriminate against black people?

Do you think health care is a crisis in this country and everyone should have access to it? If so, do you think Bernie makes the situation better or worse?

Do you think a president should fill his administration with people from the financial and insurance industries? Do you think Bernie would do this?

Do you think millionaires and billionaires should be taxed more and more money should go into programs that help the poor and middle class?

Should college be free or at least much more affordable?

Ask yourself these questions. Don’t worry about whether he can get them passed. Truth is it will be tough for any Democrat to get anything passed. I’d be looking at which candidates are most willing to use executive orders (hint: it’s Bernie).

We can’t keep hedging our votes on what’s practical because the truth is everything is doable with enough willpower. Think about how insane Social Security is as a legislative success. We taxed everyone, rich and poor, to provide money to senior citizens for the rest of their lives. That’s insane, and we did it. Same with Medicare. If you think are country needs massive changes to secure our future, vote for the candidate who is advocating for massive changes. That candidate is Bernie Sanders and…..

Elizabeth Warren. Everything good about Bernie can also be said about Elizabeth Warren. This is a person who literally created an agency designed to help consumers go against corporations. Warren has correctly diagnosed the problem for wealth and income inequality and a lot of the bad shit that’s been happening to the American worker. Corporations suck. Rich people suck. They both need to be taxed way more and we need to use those funds to give benefits to the poor and working class. Warren has a plan for pretty much everything, and that is a great thing. She doesn’t talk in platitudes about restoring dignity to the working class. She identifies the problem and comes up with an actual solution.

And for her efforts she gets skewered by her opponents and the media. When Pete Buttigieg says we should invest more in affordable housing, no one pushes back on exactly what that means. But when Warren releases a comprehensive plan to pay for Medicare for All, she is eviscerated. Her plans should be critiqued, but they should also come with the acknowledgement that she has put in the work and is way more open with the American people than the other candidates. The media and voters need to start making candidates pay a price for not articulating actual plans for their policy goals.

Warren is fucking smart and driven. She has the brain and energy to do the job. She’s not a crackpot; she’s an advocate for the little guy. Honestly, there isn’t much to criticize Warren on outside of how she will pay for her policy proposals. But the media will attack what little they have while giving Trump and the more moderate Democrats a pass. When Trump or Biden talk about strengthening the military, no one will ask what that means and how much it will cost. But when Warren comes up with a tax plan to pay for free childcare, every single pundit will pounce the second some study comes out that her funding is off by a few million.

Of course, the dumbest part is the idea Warren needs to fully fund any proposal. Right now, the economy has been doing great for about five years. And in that whole time, we’ve been running huge deficits. Maybe government spending without offsets isn’t such a big deal. Warren can’t say that because the media won’t allow her to. It would be great if Warren could just say “things are going great now despite a trillion-dollar deficit, so why not get free healthcare for a $2 trillion-dollar deficit?”

That’s what I love most about Warren. The lines of attack against her are so shitty. Bernie has legitimate concerns that the Republicans will easily exploit. The best they can do with Warren is attack her policies, which are broadly popular. And with Warren, you get a bunch of different contingencies that will come out for her. You have women and those who want to see our first female president. You get progressives excited about finally having a candidate who advocates for them with a fighting chance. And because she is being so careful not to raise middle class taxes, I think you get a lot of the suburban vote.

I think Warren can win this thing. She articulates the message well, she lacks genuine baggage and when compared to Trump, she comes off even better.

So who is my final pick? I’m going with Elizabeth Warren. Not only does she hold most of the same policy positions as Sanders, but she also is fundamentally opposed to the corporate interests that got us to this point. And I think she can better cajole moderate Democrats to support her agenda. Finally, I think she comes with less baggage.

What I would love to see, based on the polling, is for Warren to either win or come in second by a close margin to Biden or Buttigieg. Sanders would drastically underperform, at which point if New Hampshire was also going poorly, he could drop out and swing all his support to Warren. That would make her the clear front runner. Let’s see what happens.

Elizabeth Warren

#elizabeth warren #bernie sanders #joe biden

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botslayer · 5 years ago

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Top Ten games of the 2010′s

This trend seems to be doing the rounds at the moment and seeing as I’ve been gaming for about as long as I can remember, It just feels right. So, let’s get into it. But first, worth saying: These aren't really in any specific order, it's just the games I've personally had the most fun with overall, but it's pretty hard to decide what the hard numbers on things you enjoy for different reasons are if that makes any sense. 10. The 2010's weren't exactly the best time for anyone, I think. For me they were a slog of finding myself and learning things I wish I didn't. Amid all those things I wanted some levity. The world needs something and stupid. We got a lot of it ion 2013 but I feel like we could have used it scattered around a bit more. In that spirit, allow me to show you one hell of a pick me up:

Saints Row 4

Saints Row 4 does not give a fuck. It is aggressively demonstrating that the entire time you play. It doesn't care in the slightest what you think or why, It just wants to show you cool, if juvenile, and interesting, if weird shit. It's the finer points of Ratchet and Clank's arsenal, SR3's humor, And superpowers that genuinely put Prototype and Infamous in a blender and tell you to go ape shit with them. The soundtrack isn't top shelf, it's the roof of the building the shelf is in. Saints Row Two had a better story overall but SR Four's was just plain fun and a solid enough story to still be invested.

The DLC was just as irreverent and madcap, Featuring everything from an evil Santa Clause to evil Gimps on Game of thrones chairs made of dildos Or Tropey-ass costumes and weapon reskins that I'd be genuinely surprised the game dev didn't get sued over. It has earned its place in my top 10 and I will die by that decision.

2016 saw the advent of a new genre. They blended TF2 and MOBAs, and we got hero shooters in their first AAA forms, Overwatch and Battleborn. But neither of these games is on this list, much as I liked them. Partly because the whole time, I kept thinking of one simple question: "Why do I keep thinking of...?"

Anarchy Reigns

Anarchy Reigns is my favorite Platinum game. Full Stop. The Story mode is interesting and has genuinely good character moments, the characters themselves are completely mental, ranging from a mercenary with a bionic cat leg that secretly has a gun built into it to a giant cyborg bull-man with a jet-powered hammer. The soundtrack is mostly angry hip-hop, making every song a banger and fittingly speedy for things like random bombing runs from jet fighters that come from absolutely nowhere.

There are giant monsters, cars with mounted flame throwers, giant robots, and the online is still pretty sweet because even when abandoned, loading it up with bots still rules. I regularly have more fun with this than I ever did with Overwatch, and I don't care how insane that sounds.

Some games want to make you feel something and fail. Some games make you feel some things accidentally, for example, a desperate need to laugh. This game made me feel like a human blender. Like a Chthonic god of mangled flesh and raw destructive power. Nyarlathotep ain't got nothing on me. I speak, of course, of...

[Prototype] 2

There's no end to the absolute destruction you feel like you're causing in this game. It feels more fluid than the first, the main character is a pinch more relatable, and all the body horror, superpowers, zombie hordes, and big old monsters make for some of the most memorable and fun moments and fights in gaming. The DLC is also pretty solid, adding new fun side challenges, and new powers and weapons that elevate you from "Flesh god" to "Screw physics, I made them" Omnipotent. Best god/monster simulation of all time.

Sometimes some games are at an honest tie in your mind. Be it that you like them for essentially the same reasons, or for completely different reasons, but the overall total joy or entertainment they bring is roughly equivalent. Here, we have a case of the former:

Furi/Cuphead

Both games have a tight focus on giving players a unique, boss-centric challenge, both have interesting, somewhat minimal narratives, and both are absolute eye candy.

Furi has a more "Samurai Jack" Quality to me. A complete badass on a relatively simple quest with a somewhat minimalistic art style learning some things as he goes.

Cuphead on the other hand, nails that rubber hose animation style, and the fun levity of such animations while still making the player's ability to interact with the world damn impactful and fun.

They share a spot in my soul, games I love everything about but will never be able to finish. Hats off to both dev teams.

Now here we have another tie. Mostly because the games are so close together, they need to be evaluated more or less as one product IMO, not enough changed for me to consider them separate games, fortunately, that is the furthest thing from an insult it can be in this situation. I present to you, my next pick(s).

Costume Quest 1/2

Now, This might seem pretty random considering my other picks, but honestly, I love Halloween, I love creative madness, I love subversion, I love good characters, and I love cool action, these games have all these things by the bucketload.

The first game is a wild ride through Halloween in multiple very lively locations and the second, slightly confusing as it is, is pretty awesome for the things it introduces, including time travel. Other elements, like the battle stamps, the truly epic forms of everything in the fights, The ability to customize your costumes, etc. they blur together in a pretty big way, but again, there's not a thing wrong with that when both games rock like crystal candy.

Now, if you hadn't noticed, all of the games on this list have had some hard action at their core, and while I don't HATE calmer games, a lot of the time, so many are kinda dull to me in that with the exception of easter eggs of some sort, most farming sims, for example, just have you doing normal farm stuff with very few twists, may as well start a real farm in that case. My most chill entry is a game that tosses that to one side, asks you to grab a suck cannon, and start harvesting gelatinous monster poop.

Slime Rancher

While you don't spend a lot of time actually interacting with other characters, they just talk at you, the story of the game is pretty effective, the player character of Beatrix has left Earth for a simpler life of Slime Ranching, which entails the raising of alien crops, delightfully derpy and colorful chickens, and going all around in an attempt to farm new breeds of slime for their genetic material to sell off or trade-in for the creation of gadgets while being surrounded by a cast of interesting characters. It's all very wholesome family fun.

The game looks great, has great ideas, and is genuinely the best farming game I have ever played. @ me all you want.

The 80's are almost fetishized nowadays. Given all the property reboots, games that go for the vibe and aesthetic of the time, etc. It almost seems as though the eighties vibe train ain't gonna stop rolling any time soon. But we owe it to ourselves to remember the first big swipe of madcap neon-colored actiony B-movie bullshit and how mind-meltingly epic it was. Ladies, Gents, and whatever else, I present:

Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon

Blood Dragon's story is relatively simple, you play Sargent Rex "Power" Colt (A name said in full so many times I thought his last name was "Powercolt" for the longest time), a former "Omega force" cyborg. Rex and his friend "Spider" were sent into a secret island base to investigate the supposed defection and treachery of their old commander, Ike Sloan. It turns out he has gone rogue and taken an army of "Mark 5" Omegaforce cyber-soldiers with him. What follows is a long story of betrayal, science fiction of the highest nonsensical level, comedy, and brilliantly cathartic action.

The collectibles range from data on animals, to research notes from a scientist, to literal VHS cassette tapes that have full descriptions of movies that I would legitimately watch if I could. "You may now kill the brides" is not a real film and I am angry for every day that that is true. Anyway, play Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon, I dunno if it's on PS4 but it's one game I'd buy a new/old console for.

A lot of superhero games NEED to railroad you. Your goals MUST be to save the lives of the people and help the weak and all that. But one dev asked the simple question: "What if it didn't?" "What if the player chose how to use their power? What if the player could be as evil or as good as they damn well pleased?" One game gave you the powers of thunder and lightning and asked what you'd do with it. It's sequel asked you the same, but against more... interesting forces.

InFamous 2

InFamous 2 is a game about making choices, just like the first one, also just like the first one, it can have an effect on gameplay. That effect went from "What does this particular power do in this allignment?" To "Which new set of NEW powers would you like?" The forces of the last game went from “Three flavors of gun-toting whackos” To “Possibly an allegory for the Klan, Swamp monsters, and Ice-powered super soldiers.”

This was, and still is, the best game in the whole series, The powers felt distinct from anything else and still do, the story is solid as a rock, and the enemy types were still varied enough to be interesting, I miss the Reapers from the first game, but that's about it. Everything else was a massive step up. If you have something that can run it, play it.

Action is something I think we can all appreciate on some level. We can understand when it does or does not work, we can understand when we do or do not like how it feels when we are the ones partaking in it. EX: Any schlep can tell you when the weapons in your game lack impact, or when your character moves too slow for the game to be fun. The following game is something I can't say anything of the sort about. And it's kind of like Wolfenstein, when you have enemies this bad, who the hell cares how many you kill?

Doom 2016

Y'all are lying if you say you didn't expect this one. It's DOOM 2016. This game is made of hate and fuck. AND I LOVE IT. You move so fast, you may as well be half cheetah and half sports car. You slaughter the dregs of hell by the dozens and even the biggest, baddest things this game throws at you can be beaten with the starting pistol if you have the stones for it. It looks amazing graphically, the demons all look appropriately threatening, and even the Multiplayer is a great deal of fun in my book.

Something worth noting: The story presented by default is pretty barebones, but that's where supplementary material fills in the gaps, the difference between supplementary material in most games and supplementary material here is the material is till IN THE GAME. You're free to ignore most of the plot as it happens around you, and even interesting tidbits of the lore like how certain demons function. Not only are these things missable collectibles, prompting continued play to find them, they are also pretty interesting reads. So yeah, just about everything you could want in a sequel/remake, builds the on lore and gameplay very organically.

And here we are, the last game I'd put in this category. An entire decade, and here, we end on the last game that left such an impact I'd put it in my top ten. But first, let's talk about expectations and delivery: When you say a game is coming out, there are certain expectations you have for gameplay, EX: I say "Ratchet and Clank" and you expect a TPS with platforming elements and crazy guns. I say "Gears of War" and people expect something to do with lumbering about in big armor, dismembering things with a chainsaw gun and otherwise shooting them to paste. We might also expect changes to things, better graphics, innovations in grenade variety, something as that franchise goes on.

After the last game in this series was released, there were tons of people who felt let down and disappointed by it. Then they released the still somewhat disappointing special edition of it. They were both still fun, but neither really felt like the full next step in the series. After a failed reboot, they returned to the original story and the lot of us rejoiced. And when it finally came out? It was a step up in most, if not, all regards, to its predecessors. You know what this last one is. Please, give a warm round of applause to:

Devil May Cry 5

A game that was not only a return to form, but a major escalation in gameplay for one character, and a new style of gameplay all together by way of yet another new character. It didn’t exactly hurt that the story kicked ten kinds of ass and that the game looked spectacular in both the design of everything and the actual graphical fidelity.DMC 5 is, like DOOM, Like InFamous 2, Like [PROTOTYPE] 2, everything you want in a good sequel. It built very well on already solid foundations and it was generally just a fun, slightly goofy, massively stylish, and ultra badass ride. I recommend this, and all these games, to anyone.Good night everyone, have a great 2020. And the rest of the decade, for that matter.

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bnhascribbles · 6 years ago

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Competition

Shinso x Teacher!Reader

Fluff & Humor; Just a couple of ridiculously sarcastic teachers figuring out their relationship and navigating an (intentional) misunderstanding

Words: 3.3K

Warnings: Very mild swearing

Sometimes, you really believed that full-time heroes had it easy. Sure, they had to risk their lives daily, but then again, so did you. As a teacher at U.A., you were all-too-familiar with the fact that danger was a part of the curriculum. After all, when a hero-in-training screwed up, it was your job to yank them out of whatever situation they found themselves in. You had a collection of scars stemming from misfired quirks, shrapnel from training-ground explosions, and the occasional struggle to pull apart brawling students. That wasn’t even the worst part of teaching. It was the fact that if you failed your “mission,” if you failed these kids, you weren’t just ruining their lives, you were putting the entire country at risk–it would be like filling barrels with gunpowder and just watching them roll into a burning building.

Naturally, this meant that your workdays seldom actually ended with the ring of the final bell. There was always stuff to do after classes ended–papers to grade, exercises to plan, troublemakers to scold. Your most recent project involved planning summer training camp for the second years. The students this year had a diverse combination of quirks, so it was up to you and the teacher from 2-A to devise a program that would incorporate several different training regimens. Picking the location, creating individualized plans for each student, recruiting pros to act as stand-ins in the moments where the two of you were off making sure everything ran like clockwork–most of the time, you were swamped, working well past dark. On those nights, coffee and sugar were your lifelines. You’d set up shop in a 24-hour donut shop and pray that you’d manage to leave before the 3 AM drunks began to pour in through the doors. This had been your reality for the past three weeks, four days, and seven hours.

Tonight marked the end of all that–after you double-checked all of the arrangements, you were free. Knowing that the planning was done and that you could finally relax should’ve been a reason for celebration. Well, it wasn’t. Not because you were a sucker for suffering and certainly not because two hours of sleep was the perfect amount you needed in order to teach a class full of hormonal teenagers. No, it was because, despite the long hours and constant stress of the whole process, you actually enjoyed spending time with the grumpy teacher of 2-A.

Shinso and you weren’t friends in the traditional sense of the word—you only ever interacted at school and in these little meetings. Even so, your banter was famous at U.A. In the halls, the classrooms, the training grounds–everywhere you met, the two of you were at each other’s throats. Sure, it might’ve had something to do with your drastically different teaching styles–he was way more of a disciplinarian than you were–but the truth was, it probably because Shinso was the only person you knew with a wit sharp enough to match your own.

“I thought I saw you crack a smile at the sports festival. Congratulations, I didn’t know ‘Shinso-sensei’ was capable of experiencing actual human emotion.”

“Clever, clever. Maybe if you directed a fraction of the energy you spend insulting me into actually teaching your class, then it’d be half-competent.”

However hostile the exchanges seemed, all of it was done in good fun–most of the time, you were snickering before you even got through your next comeback. Still, it was easy to see why some people might get the wrong idea. In your first month of teaching, both of you were called in individually for a meeting with the principal. Apparently, however playful you knew your bickering to be, other teachers had a difficult time grasping the...intricacies of your humor. They thought that you and Shinso genuinely wanted to murder each other. Even after explaining the situation to Principal Nezu, however, he was adamant that the two of you put an end to the insults.

So naturally, the two of you acted like the smartasses you were and shot off to the opposite end of the spectrum. If you were gonna have to be nice, you were gonna do it your way, dammit.

“Wasn’t gonna stop by, but after seeing those class rankings, I just had to. You should be SO proud. One student in the top thirty? Wow, what an improvement.”

“Thanks, Shinso. I really appreciate you walking all the way to my classroom to tell me that. God, I’m sorry for getting distracted, but can’t help asking: How much sleep did you get last night? Because I am LIVING for those dark circles.”

You can’t be sure when exactly you started anticipating your little encounters, when it was that hearing the sound of his voice became the highlight of your day. You don’t know when realized you liked him–beyond the whole “friendship” or “professional admiration” sort of stuff. Sure, the man was fatalistic, arrogant, and liked to pretend that he was apathetic towards just about everything, but there was more to him than that. You saw the way he worried over his students–how he’d spent nearly the entire provisional license exam clenching onto the edge of his seat, his knuckles white. Then, there was his talent for committing the tiniest things to memory. Trivial things, like how your favorite color was purple. After you’d mentioned it offhandedly in one of your little “arguments,” you found that every written reminder from him (“Turn in this form today” or “Midterms happening next month”) came on a distinctive, lilac-tinted sticky-note. He was paying attention. Maybe it was wishful thinking on your part, but that was the first sign you noticed that, maybe, he liked you too.

So as you sat in that cheap old donut shop, wrapping up your last “planning night” together, you decided to take the leap.

“If you aren’t too busy scheming up new ways to crush your students’ spirits, then we should meet up again tomorrow.”

“Why, did we forget something?” Shinso groans, flipping through his papers. “Cots? Food?” He takes another swig of his coffee. “The students are old enough to figure it out. A couple days of roughing it won’t kill them.”

“Harsh. But no, that’s not it. I’m completely over work; I was imagining something a little more casual.” You swallow hard, willing yourself to follow through. You’ve thought about this for way too long to chicken out now. “Something more date-like.”

Shinso peeks up at you out of the corner of his eye. He stares for a moment, then he leans back in his chair, fiddling with the plastic tab on the lid of his drink.

“I might have to pass on that. I’ve got a girl waiting up for me back home, and the longer I’m out, the pissier she gets.”

You can feel the red-hot flush as it creeps across your face, coloring every inch of your skin. God, you probably looked like some sort of overripe tomato. In a frantic attempt to hide, you take a large gulp from your cup and hold it up against the bottom half of your face, even when you’re done. Your hot chocolate doesn’t taste sweet anymore–it’s bitter and leaves a chalky, burning feeling in your throat. Then again, that could be embarrassment setting in.

“Oh.” It’s a struggle to keep your voice level–a struggle that you lose. Diffusing the situation with humor isn’t even an option–you were smart dammit, but you couldn’t focus for long enough to say something even remotely thought-out.“I had no idea...I didn’t mean–”

“It’s alright.” Thankfully, he cuts off your stammering before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. “Not many people know about her; She’s not so good with strangers.” He places his coffee down on the tabletop.

“That’s awesome.” You mumble through a pathetic, fake smile.

Stop it, that little voice in your head warns.

“Not the, uh, stranger part. That’s unfortunate.”

Please shut up. For God’s sake, you still have to WORK with this dude.

“It’s cool that you’ve got someone.”

Just get up and leave while you still can. Fake a phone call. A heart attack. ANYTHING.

“More than some people can say, haha.”

Awesome. If he didn’t already think you were desperate, he sure does now.

You finally listen, stopping yourself before any more word-vomit can escape your lips. The damage has already been done, though. Men cackle boisterously at a table to your right. A barista drones through a generic list of house specials for a customer. The espresso machine hisses and bubbles angrily. But you and Shinso sit in complete silence. You pretend to be utterly fascinated by the lip of your cup, folding the edge up and down. Really, you just needed something to stare at. Something that wasn’t him.

“Want to meet her?”

The air gets caught in your throat as you inhale, and you let out an incredibly obvious, choked cough. “Excuse me?” Hiding your shock is off the table now. Then again, you’d already managed to make a fool of yourself–how much worse could it really get?

“Do you want to meet my kitten?” He speaks slowly, stressing each individual word, but you’re still at a loss. “I actually think she might like you.”

Things were getting really weird, really fast. Surely, he had to know that the proposition was absolutely insane. As it stood, all you wanted to do was go home and curl up on your sofa–pretend you’d never bumped into him and drown your humiliation with a bottle of cheap grocery store wine and a pint of ice cream. If you were lucky, you’d sleep through your alarm. At least then you wouldn’t have to see those indigo eyes tomorrow morning, wouldn’t have to pass him in the halls pretend everything was fine. The two of you would squabble, as always. He’d leave his sticky notes, as always. Maybe, if you were lucky, they’d still be purple. Hell, it wasn’t like the color actually meant anything, after all.

The more you think about it, the more the self-pity festers, becoming something else. Frustration. Was the moron possessed? What on earth would make him even entertain the thought that you’d want to meet his “kitten” (even thinking about the pet-name made you want to gag)? He’d rejected you. That should’ve been the end of it; He should’ve just let you skulk off and ponder past sins–the reasons why the universe saw fit punish you with the curse of boldness and bad timing.

Of course, Shinso hadn’t said no to you outright. Still, he’d made it very clear that he was taken. He had a girlfriend.

...except, he’d never really said that any of that. You’d just filled in the blanks. After all, that was the only possible–

“How are you with fur?” He cuts off your thought with another question.

And it clicks. The absurd, ridiculous, impossible idea that you hadn’t even noticed percolating at the back of your mind suddenly becomes plausible–logical even. You forget about your assumption, opting instead to act on what you know. Verbatim.

His girl.

His kitten.

“Hitoshi Shinso.” No, it couldn’t be true. You were just being insane. Wishful.

“Yes?” It’s drawn out, teasing. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I know you’re not talking about your actual cat. Because if you are, so help me god, I will end you.”

He cocks up an eyebrow, smirking. “Promise?”

The bastard.

You bury your face in your hands, dumbfounded. You don’t know whether you should get angry or laugh or just breathe. When you peek through your fingers at Shinso, he at least has the decency to look a little guilty–emphasis on a little.

“In my defense, I thought you’d figure it out quicker than that.”

“In my defense, I’ve never heard a man use his pet as an excuse not to go on a date.”

There’s another silence, but it’s a different sort from the first. Less uncomfortable–still a bit awkward, but more pensive than before. Shinso stretches against the back of his chair, staring at the ceiling. You shift in your seat and peer out the window.

Shinso is the first to speak.

“I’m free all day Sunday.”

You turn towards him, shaking your head, incredulous. But when you look up, his expression isn’t mocking or cocky. He’s using his palm to almost completely cover the bottom half of his face–you can’t even see his mouth behind it. His other arm is curled tight around his stomach, like he’s trying to protect himself from some imaginary punch to the gut. The posture was all-too-recognizable. The man was nervous. Just like you’d been when you’d asked him.

Part of you was thrilled that everything had managed to work out, even if it’d taken longer than you’d expected to reach this point. But then, there’s also an ounce of bitterness left in that petty, petty heart of yours. Not enough to leave Shinso sitting in agony for too long, but certainly enough to draw out his suffering the slightest bit. You weren’t going to make things easy for him after he’d tortured you with his little joke.

You fold your arms across your chest and let your jaw shift to one side. “I don’t know, is your cat really gonna be okay with that? Wouldn’t want her getting jealous or anything.”

“I’ll get her permission tonight.” A quick response. Even if the words seem playful, his voice is brittle, on edge. “So?”

You suck in air over your teeth, resting your elbows on the tabletop and resting your thumbs beneath your chin. “Well, I’ve never been the best at sharing.”

Shinso catches onto your act, letting the hand fall away from his mouth. He breathes in a long, deep breath through his nose. The corner of his lip twitches and twists upward.

“I’m afraid my little girl and I are a package deal.” He slides his papers to the side and leans forward, mimicking your posture.

“Can I at least know the name of my competition?” You ask with an upward lilt on the final word.

“Bean.”

You laugh out loud, despite your best efforts to seem serious and seductive. Bean. Never in a thousand years would you ever even consider that a little fur-ball named Bean would cause you so much trouble.

“And you’re sure you’re not down to negotiate?”

“No. This is an all-or-nothing sort of deal.”

“Ouch. With baggage like that, it’s no wonder you’re still single, Shinso.” You try not to get distracted by the closeness of your faces. It’s difficult considering the fact that your forearms are practically pressed against each other. The tiny size of the café table is beginning to show. “Do people usually pack up and leave once you’ve stated your terms?”

There’s a pause as his gaze flits between each of your eyes. “I wouldn’t know, none of them have ever made it this far.”

Oh. You can’t tell if he’s being serious, or if he’s just that smooth. Either way, your pulse quickens. It doesn’t help that your faces are mere inches apart. You can count each of his eyelashes, smell the coffee on his breath, feel the warmth radiating off his skin. He has you completely intoxicated by his presence; It makes you reckless.

“So I’m special.” Not a question–an observation.

He purses his lips, then smiles. “I guess you are.”

That’s it. Something about the way he says the words–without a hint of sarcasm or insincerity–shakes you to your very core. You feel the heat in your neck first, feeling it sear your skin as it creeps up to your cheeks and ears. Then comes the buzzing in your skull, the frantic thudding of your heart in your chest.

“So?” He says it softly, like he’s afraid to actually hear your response. For all the reluctance in his voice, Shinso himself is bold. Before you even know what’s happening, he’s reaching across the almost-nonexistent space between the two of you, his hand hovering beside the place where your fingers rest on your cheek.

“ ‘So,’ what? You didn’t ask a question.” You’re hyper-aware of everything–the temperature of the air, the subtle tremble in his arm, your own shallow breathing.

“You understood what I meant, though.”

His hand inches in closer, and when finally feel it dust over the side of your palm–experience the jolt of pure electricity that sparks through you where his skin meets yours–you almost forget to draw things draw things out. Almost.

“If you were hoping I’d agree to go out with you, then prepare for disappointment.” When his fingers edge in beneath your own, gently coaxing your palm away from your cheek, your breathing hitches involuntarily. You press on anyway. “My houseplant doesn’t like it when I spend time with other guys.”

He huffs, and you can tell he’s trying not to smile. “Come on. I’m being serious now.”

He drags your hand down to the table, laying it palm up. His fingers start at your wrist, tracing over the shallow creases in your palm. Slowly, deliberately–like he’s trying to commit each line to memory. When you look up at his face, it really does look like he’s studying; His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his lips pulled off to one side of his face. A strand of hair floats down in front of his eyes, but he ignores it. It’d be easy to believe he thought there was nothing more important at that moment than the shape of your hand beneath his fingers.

Your heart is done being petty. You cut straight to the part where you stop playing hard-to-get and actually say what you want.

“You are single, right?” You curl your fingers and catch his hand, putting an end to its exploring. “I mean, besides the live-in-home cat-girlfriend.”

He lifts his eyes up from the table, laughing. “Yeah, I am.”

You exhale, relieved. “Good, I just had to make sure.” You don’t even consider prying your hand away from his. Instead, you remove your other one from your cheek and gesture outwards towards Shinso. “Give me your phone.”

He doesn’t hesitate to obey, reaching into his pocket (notably, with his free hand) and practically tossing his phone into your outstretched palm. You begin entering your number.

“Seriously, though, the next time you scare me like that, I’ll sic my class on you.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Right, because I’m absolutely terrified of class 2-B.”

“You should be.” You check the newly-entered contact and hand him back his device. “They’re crazy strong, and they actually like me. Not like those 2-A thralls you train.”

“One of your students was sent to the clinic last week for getting his arm stuck in a locker. Not even two days later, another one gave herself a concussion because she tried to jump in the conveyer belt for lunch trays.” He leans forward, going to slide his phone back into his pocket. “Like I said: I’m terrified.”

You pretend to be annoyed at the jab, but really, you’re too over-the-moon to be even a little convincing. Really, you could’ve gone back and forth with him all night. You could’ve insisted that your class was superior–that they were intelligent and creative and street-smart, but Shinso probably already knew that; This was all just another act meant to get a rise out of you. It might’ve worked any other day, but tonight, you’re too willing to let him get away with more than usual.

When you get home that night, you get a text from an unregistered number. It’s a photo message–an image of a puny calico kitten lounging on top of a sofa, staring intently into the camera. The next text comes in about thirty seconds later. It was less than ten words long, but it made you burst into a fit of giggles all the same.

As you can see, you’ve got some stiff competition.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinsou #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha #mha #bnha imagines #shinso hitoshi #shinso #mha imagines #bnha shinso #WOW this is long #Truly didn't intend for this #Nobody even asked for this #But oh dear do I love banter

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shireness-says · 6 years ago

Text

Ear-resistible

Summary: Emma may be out the night before Easter as a favor to Mary Margaret, but she didn't expect to see Killian Jones in the center of town. After midnight. In a rabbit suit. Rated T for language. ~2.5K. Also on Ao3.

A/N: Happy Easter to those who celebrate it! Yes, this is going up a little early, but I’ll be busy tomorrow and the events of the fic happen the night before anyways. It’s a good enough excuse. Loosely based on an episode of the mid-90s BBC comedy “The Vicar of Dibley”, which I watched an inexplicable amount of as a kid for someone born after it premiered in the United States. It’s still funny.

Thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta-ing and half the puns. She’s the best.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Storybrooke, Maine has always been a little too good to be true.

After all, there isn’t really a place with an annual candle-based festival, or one where an entire town takes a lonely orphan girl under their collective wing, or one with a massive town-wide Easter egg hunt. It’s absurd. That place can’t exist.

And yet, somehow, Storybrooke does.

Emma Swan even knows the person who dresses as the Easter Bunny every year (because that’s exactly the kind of town Storybrooke is) - a lovely young lady named Mary Margaret Nolan, local fifth grade teacher and daughter of the late Leo Blanchard, the former mayor who’d originated this tradition in the first place. Mary Margaret continuing her father’s legacy, rabbit costume and all, is the least shocking of all of this - something about continuity and family tradition and other sentiments that belong in a friggin’ Hallmark movie. After all, this is Storybrooke, the only town in the world where all of this seems natural.

Mary Margaret Nolan also happens to be Emma Swan’s best friend, which is how she gets pulled into this whole mess in the first place.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’ve caught some sort of stomach bug,” she’d explained to Emma over the phone. She’d certainly sounded miserable, her voice echoing around the bathroom where undoubtedly she’d still been camped. That’s probably why Emma had agreed when Mary Margaret had begged Emma to do her a huge favor.

Unfortunately, that favor had been to dress up as the goddamn Easter Bunny to hide eggs around town.

(Personally, Emma thinks insisting she wear a costume is stupid, but Mary Margaret had been insistent.

“What if one of the kids sees you?” she’d asked, like there’d actually be school kids peeking out their windows at half past midnight. Lucky for Mary Margaret, one of the few guilt trips that still works on Emma is the prospect of disappointed kids.)

She feels ridiculous, honestly. Blatantly ridiculous. If Mary Margaret has a bug, there’s no way Emma is putting on her rabbit suit, so Emma had taken things into her own hands. Rabbit footie pajamas complete with fluffy tail and some ears on a headband is close enough, right? Especially since she’s painted whiskers and teeth on her face? Mary Margaret’s very fancy and expensive rabbit suit doubtless wouldn’t have fit anyways, since Emma is a good several inches taller. Hey, if she has to do this insane thing, at least she’s going to be comfortable.

Hiding eggs is kinda fun, Emma has to admit. It’s a bit of fun she never really got as a kid, only seeing it on TV and wishing she could do that too. She’d already been 15 by the time the Nolans had taken her in, eventually for good, and Emma had already been too old and full of teenage attitude to take part in the hunt herself, even if the residents of Storybrooke - who adopted her nearly as much as Ruth and Robert and David had - doubtless would have cheered her on if she had. It’s fun, finding clever little places to stash eggs for the older kids and easier spots that will make the littler ones feel clever, all the while hearing the rattle of coins and candy inside the plastic.

Sure, there’s a few eggs in spots Emma doesn’t remember leaving anything, but it’s half past midnight. It’s easy enough to write that off as tiredness and simple forgetfulness. Since the eggs are fake, Emma doesn’t need to keep a map of where she hides things for later. She’s the only one out doing this, anyways, and the eggs don’t look like they’ve been left outside for a year; there’s no reason to think she’s not the one who hid them.

That makes it all the more shocking to look across the town square and see another figure in full rabbit costume with a wagon full of eggs.

“What the…” she mutters, squinting as if it could somehow make the sight make sense.

Meanwhile, the other rabbit takes off their head piece - one of those massive mascot-type deals. “Swan?” they call in an accented male voice, before moving closer into her clear line of sight.

Oh shit. She knows exactly who it is: Killian Jones, local bartender and object of her lust (and possible love). And the last person Emma wants to see facing her in a rabbit suit.

Emma not wanting to see Jones has nothing to do with her own feelings; she’s willing to admit, at least to herself, that she likes Jones one hell of a lot, likes his smile and his sense of humor and that delicious accent that sends shivers chasing down her spine, even if all three are usually directed at other people. There’s been an attraction, at least on her part, ever since he moved to Storybrooke almost two and a half years ago now. No, the problem is that Jones doesn’t like her, and Emma can’t figure out why.

She’d thought it was some kind of jealousy at first, what with the way she catches him glaring whenever she interacts with other men in the bar, but it’s more than that. If she leans over the bar to try and talk to him over the noise, he groans. If they see each other in public, he offers only the briefest pleasantries before heading in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. Honestly, he seems disdainful of everything about her. The heart wants what the heart wants, though, and Emma’s never been able to quash her attraction to Killian Jones, God help her.

“What are you doing here, lass?” he asks as he approaches until he’s close enough for Emma to reach out and touch his mascot suit if she wanted too. Did Storybrooke High change its team from the Knights to the… Demon Rabbits or something? She doesn’t follow high school sports close enough to remember; all she knows is that the enormous rabbit head under Killian’s arm is freaking her out with its dead eyes and cartoonish teeth.

“What do you think I’m doing out here?” Emma shoots back, probably harsher than is needed in the situation. Maybe this is why she’s still single. “I’m hiding Easter eggs. Jesus Christ, where did you get that awful costume?”

“No,” he replies slowly, gesturing towards his ridiculous wagon. “I’m the one hiding Easter eggs. And technically, Swan, it’s already Easter, it seems pretty bold to be taking the Lord’s name in vain on Easter. But, for the record, Belle lent it to me from the drama department. The high school put on a production of Harvey last year, don’t you remember?”

“Shut up,” she mumbles. The know-it-all attitude definitely isn’t helping any of this… even if Emma hadn’t remembered that play. Musical? Whatever. “Okay, well, I don’t know why you’d be hiding eggs still, because Mary Margaret asked me to take over since she’s sick.” Emma’s getting a bit defensive about this, but she can’t actually bring herself to care.

“And David asked me for the same reason. I don’t know why you’re arguing with me about this, Swan.”

“Because you’re not supposed to be here!” she all but explodes, before reigning her emotions back in. It’s just a weird misunderstanding; there’s no reason to get mad at Killian for something that’s not his fault. Probably. “Look, just… I don’t want to be in your way, just as much as you don’t want me in your way, so you take the North end and I’ll hide stuff on the South end. Everything gets covered and you won’t have to deal with me. Fine by you?”

“That seems a bit harsh,” Killian mumbles back. Notably, he doesn’t answer her question, which Emma tries not to be pissed about. God, this man some days.

“What, the divide and conquer plan? Not sure what you’d find harsh about that.”

“No, the part where you seem to think I’m bothered by you.”

“Look, you don’t have to pretend, Killian. I know you don’t like me, and it’s fine, I’m a big girl, we’ll just stay out of each other’s hair —”

“What makes you think I don’t like you?” To his credit, Killian does look genuinely confused. That almost pisses Emma off more - this who, me? act that he’s apparently decided to put on.

“Oh please. I’d have to be blind not to see the glares and hear the groans and whatever. I’m not an idiot, I can put two and two together.”

“It’s not what you think,” Killian argues - weakly, in Emma’s opinion - turning red to his very ears.

“You go out of your way to avoid me,” she deadpans.

“Yeah, but it’s not because I don’t like you, it’s because…” Killian trails off for a moment, before muttering something unintelligible.

“I didn’t understand a single word of that,” Emma comments dryly, crossing her arms. “Try again.”

Killian sighs heavily. “Look, I really like you, alright?”

“No you don’t.” It’s a stupid thing to say, considering that he literally just told her so (and turned adorably red doing it), but it’s Emma’s knee-jerk reaction. There’s no way, right?

He scratches behind his ear - a sign Emma’s learned means he’s uncomfortable or embarrassed. Could he actually be serious? “Aye, I really do. Veering rather alarmingly towards the territory of “smitten”, if I’m quite honest.”

“But you’re always so... disapproving,” she tries to reason. “If you like me so much, why all the glaring and the groaning?”

“When do I groan?”

“Usually when I’m leaning against the bar, though I can probably come up with other examples.”

Killian laughs. It’s very much unexpected. “You’d groan too, Swan, if a lady you fancied had a habit of leaning down right in front of you and perfectly displaying all her lovely undergarments. I’m just a man, love, and that lacy black number does things to me.”

Oh. Oh. Well, she supposes that makes enough sense. Still… “Well, what about everything else? You go out of your way to avoid me, don’t pretend you don’t.”

He sighs again, a frustrated sound this time. Maybe a little sad too. “I know it doesn’t make much sense. And believe me, it wasn’t at all for lack of want. But you’re my best friend’s little sister,” he shrugs. “David can be protective, not that I blame him. I’m sure I’d be the same if I had a younger sister. But the fact remains that I’m not too keen on him cutting my balls off over this, especially since it’s so one-sided.”

That gives Emma pause for a moment. “Wait, one-sided?” she demands. “Is that what you think this is?”

“Aye,” he says, hanging his head. Rejection tinges his tone - needlessly, really, but he’s not picking up one her cues in the least. “Which is fine, Swan, I’m a grown lad and my feelings are my own. I’m not asking… that is, I’d never assume you felt the same, and nothing needs to change —”

“Whoa, hold on, that’s not —” Emma cuts herself off to collect her own thoughts, running her hands along her scalp in an anxious gesture. It’s been an absolute 180 in the past few minutes where her perception of their relationship is concerned, and she feels the need to take a few moments to try and recenter herself, collect her bearings. “Fuck,” she grumbles, “this is not how I imagined this going at all.”

“How you imagined what, love?” Confusion still colors his face; that just won’t do. She’s making a total hash of this - though she’d argue that that’s kind of on him as well - but maybe there’s still a way to redeem it. It’s about the destination, not the journey, right?

(She’s pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes, but she also doesn’t care anymore.)

So she kisses him, reaches across and hauls Killian down to meet her mouth by the front of the ridiculous vest his stupid rabbit costume is wearing. It’s the only redeeming factor of the whole thing, allowing her some form of leverage.

The kiss isn’t a gentle thing. Somehow, in her mind, Emma always imagined sweeping instrumentals as her and Killian’s lips brushed, hands stealing tentatively into hair and across cheeks. This is… not that. There’s a lot of tongue and a bit of teeth (mostly on her part) and honestly, the word she’s looking for to describe this is probably closest to devour. After waiting so goddamn long there just doesn’t seem to be a point in taking it slow; instead, she’d rather try to make up for every missed second, all at once. Not that Killian seems opposed to it. Rather, he seems determined to pull Emma as close as humanly possible, like if she’s just plastered tight enough to his front he can feel her through his ridiculous bulky rabbit suit.

Eventually, the franticness starts to settle into something easier, tongues giving way to lips, nipping giving way to sucking. They’ve finally perfected the angle too, noses just barely brushing as their mouths meet. Emma’s hands have settled on his chest, faux-furred as it is, and Killian’s have begun to creep down from her hips towards her ass. After his talk about being tormented by the sightline down her shirt, Emma would have figured he was a boob man, but hey, she’s not opposed to this development either…

Until he reaches the stupid fluffball on the seat of her pants and pulls.

Emma jerks back at that. “Did you just tweak my tail?” she demands, staring at him incredulously.

“Couldn’t help myself, love,” he teases, dropping a little kiss on her nose. “You make a bloody cute Easter Bunny.”

“Oh my God, file that under ‘things I never want to hear again’,” Emma groans, but she’s smiling too. It’s hard not to, now that she gets to enjoy his playful side. “C’mon, we’ve got to finish hiding these eggs… but maybe you can come back to my burrow afterwards.” She even throws in a wink for good measure, now that there’s no reason they can’t have a little fun.

“I’m holding you to that, love,” he says, crossing back to his wagon as Emma collects her own fabric grocery sack full of eggs. Once they’re both collected again, his terrifying rabbit head perched in the wagon’s bucket, Killian offers his free pawto her. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, alright.”

They’ve barely started walking again before the realization hits Emma, making her groan.

“What is it, love?” Killian asks, his voice full of concern.

“Nothing to worry about, not really,” she quickly clarified. “I just realized… if this is Mary Margaret and David’s idea of a set up, I’m going to kill them.”

Killian laughs uproariously at that, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Ah, well, all’s well that ends well, right?”

(As it turns out, no one really believes Mary Margaret when she tries to claim that this is exactly what she had planned all along. Distraction induced by morning sickness is much more believable, after all, than setting up two people to fall in love as the Easter Bunnies.)

(Emma and Killian are a little too busy doing some other things like rabbits to care too much.)

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #my writing #Ear-resistable #holiday fic #Easter #happy Sunday everyone

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