#mischief fans I swear this makes sense if you have watched the show

[personinthepalace]

Mmm horses - The Goes Wrong Show x My Lady Jane

please sign the petition to help save My Lady Jane!

[cool-fancier]

Behind The Scenes

Synopsis: You and Bada, members of BEBE, are secretly dating on "Street Woman Fighter." Fans spotted your hidden affection in background moments, but you continued to keep it a secret, appreciating the support of your fans.

You and Bada had been dating in secret for a while, and the only people who were aware of your relationship were the other BEBE members. It was necessary to keep your love under wraps, especially with the intense competition on "Street Woman Fighter." The last thing you needed was the distraction of public scrutiny.

As you stood waiting for the directors to give the cue when to start, the camera crew prepared to film. Being the committed performer and leader that she was, Bada strictly complied with the no-public-display-of-affection (PDA) rule when it came to dancing for the camera. She was worried about the fans' reactions and the potential backlash.

Bada's attitude completely shifted when the camera started to roll. She concentrated on the women dancing in front of her, making sure each step was flawless and keeping up her professional demeanour. You mirrored her attitude and demeanour.

However, when the camera wasn't on you, it was an entirely different story. You always felt Bada's hands on you. She would sneak glances, brushing her fingers against yours, or lightly resting her hand on your back. It was like she had an itch that could only be scratched when the camera wasn't watching.

One day, during a particularly intense training session, the camera was focused on MANNEQUEE practicing and in the background, Bada took the opportunity and pressed her lips against your cheek, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Although it was a quick, secret kiss, it gave you the chills nonetheless.

As the days went by, viewers who paid close attention to the battles started to notice something odd in the background. Social media comments began to grow with rumours about your hidden relationship.

Week after week, fans of "Street Woman Fighter" were glued to their screens, analysing every frame for hidden gems of your relationship. The production team was particularly fond of filming your crew during practices when other teams were in the spotlight, making it the perfect opportunity for fans to spot those precious moments.

Once more, the camera panned out to capture the entire room as LADYBOUNCE performed their routine for the K-pop Death match. You and Bada stood in the background, intentionally blurry but unmistakable. While the other dancers were focused on their show, you two were smiling quietly while softly connecting your fingers. The viewers at home were giddy with anticipation:

@Y/NHiddenAdmirer: Did anyone else see that? I swear, Y/n and Bada are in love! 🥰

@BadaAndYShipper:OMG, I can't handle the cuteness! They think they can hide, but we see them!🤭😅

@BadaSecretCrush:Forget the dance battle, the real drama is Y/n and Bada's secret love story!🩷✨

@BadaAndYHearts:Who would've thought we would see Bada like this.Thank you Y/N for making our Bada happy.🫶🏽❤️

@BadaY/NAffection:I love that they're on the same team and have been friends for so long.I also hope that they are dating and us as supporters of them shouldn't rush them to announce it.🙂

Heart emojis and speculative comments flooded the show's official YouTube channel's comments section. The fans were determined in their search for proof, and the blurry surroundings further increased their interest. But despite their speculation, you and Bada were able to keep your relationship a secret, giving the show a sense of intrigue.

And once more during one of the rehearsals, you and Bada found yourselves in the background once again, this time while a powerful rival crew showcased their moves.

With her words just above a whisper, Bada leaned in closer. She said, "You know, I don't think they've noticed us yet."

Your eyes remained fixed on the dancers in front of you as you chuckled quietly. "Probably not," you said. "Everyone's so focused on them."

Bada's hand brushed against yours, out of sight of the camera. "It's kind of like our little secret, isn't it?"

You turned to her with a loving smile. You responded in a whisper, "Yeah, it is," and as if on cue, you both gave each other a soft kiss on the cheek, your hearts bursting with love.

The fans may not have seen the kiss clearly, but they certainly felt the love and connection that influenced your relationship. Their excitement increased week after week, and your relationship thrived both on and off camera.

Fans eagerly anticipated those fuzzy background pictures as "Street Woman Fighter" went on the air, expecting to catch another glimpse of your intimate moments. The fact that your fans supported your relationship made it even more meaningful, even if you and Bada still had to act professionally in front of the camera.

[amerrierworld]

The World is Changing

for the request: more nsfw galadriel/reader content? 👀

Summary: Galadriel travels to your world with you. And you introduce her to sex toys.

Characters: Galadriel x you

Word Count: 1,586

Warnings: SMUT. vibrators :) modern AU I guess? welcome to the sin bin

“That’s a microwave.”

“Fascinating.”

You snorted. Galadriel roamed about your home, touching and prodding unusual gadgets and unfamiliar items. 

She had jumped at the chance to come to Earth with you. Being one of the oldest beings in Middle Earth, there were few things that surprised her there, but here, amidst technology and modern culture, there were plenty of new experiences waiting.

She was wearing loose-fitted jeans that hung a little low on her hips. And when she reached up to one of your higher shelves, the knit sweater she had on rode up, revealing more gorgeous pale skin.

You salivated a little at the sight, but forced yourself back to the task at hand; making a decent meal for the both of you.

Her hair shimmered in the light of the setting sun. You offered her something to drink; she wanted to try one of those fizzy cans she’d seen you drink before.

Despite the childlike curiosity in her eyes, her body and demeanour still commanded nobility and respect like the Queen that she was. That quickly disappeared when she belched louder than you ever had, because of her idea to chug the sugary soda.

Dinner was grilled cheese, because you didn't feel like being original today, and you sat on the couch, eating, drinking, chatting. 

“Don’t you wish you’d gone to Valinor instead?” you asked her. “I mean, the Undying Lands, any place with a name like that sounds better than a world named after dirt.”

She chuckled, “one day I will. All Elves are destined to travel there. Our time in the mortal world always comes to an eventual close.”

Shuffling closer, she pulled your plate away and brushed her nose against your jaw, 

“But I wanted to experience something different before the end of all things. And you, meleth-nin, proved to be the most breath-taking change I could have hoped for.”

You squeaked as her lips sucked on a spot beneath your ear. She had a thing for ears.. maybe all Elves did. You couldn’t really think about it much as her malicious tongue swiped over your damp skin, making you shiver.

She pushed some pillows off the couch to make more room for her long legs  as she swung one over yours to straddle your lap. Your hands immediately roved over her ass, tight under the denim of her jeans. She squirmed a little in your hard grip, and kissed you on the mouth.

Your hips were starting to buck up, frustrated by the limitation of the clothes you were wearing. She gasped as you pushed up under her sweater, cupping her breasts- you had not yet introduced her to bras, mostly for the convenience of easy access when needed. Like right now.

You pulled your mouth away and trailed your lips down her neck, worrying your teeth along the column. Her body started rocking familiarly and your fingers tugged at her nipples.

“Fuck!”

Your body burst into flames. Galadriel barely ever swore, usually it was just you, but when she did, it was like an instant aphrodisiac.

Pulling away and tugging her sweater down, you held her ass firmly, making your eyes lock and you breathed,

“Bed.”

She was off your lap in a flash, her body thrumming with lust. You were nearly pulled off of your feet when she grabbed your hands and led you to the bedroom. Despite her slender figure, you were reminded of how strong she was, of the battles she had fought, and how somehow in some strange stroke of luck, this immortal Queen now desired you.

You successfully made it to the bedroom. She immediately wanted you naked, wanted to devour you, but you stopped her. 

“Take off your pants, and lay on the bed.”

She seemed startled by your command, but did as you asked. She pulled her hair out from the high pony tail she had been wearing, letting the long locks tumble down her shoulders, on the pillows. 

You returned with one of your favourite things to use in bed; a small, but extremely powerful vibrator. Her eyebrows furrowed at the strange shape and smooth texture as you showed her.

“This is a vibrator,” you showed her. “Do you wanna try it out?”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, but it may be a little intense the first time. I can show you, if you’d like. I’ll be gentle.”

Her breath hitched as you turned on the toy, the room filling with the low hum of the vibration. 

“And- where do you...”

“Wherever you want,” you replied sweetly. You pressed it to the side of her knee, and her jaw dropped a bit. Her legs fell open, giving you a clear view of the white panties you’d gotten her to wear. 

“If you wanna wear the jeans, please for the love of God wear underwear,” you had begged her, “that material is far too rough. You don’t want to chafe, I swear.”

Now you were exceptionally glad with your persuasion for her choice of wardrobe today, because her pale legs, her underwear barely showing, and the lovely soft sweater over her torso made her too beautiful for words.

“There’s plenty of other toys we can try, later,” you kept talking, pushing the vibe higher, pressing against the sensitive inside of her thighs. Her muscles tensed and her breathing sped up. 

“Y-yes,” she agreed, trying to maintain some sense of dignity as her resolve crumbled, “I-I think this will be sufficient for now.”

You grinned, flashing a smile at her which she weakly returned, and you took the opportunity to run it along the edge of her underwear, close to her clit, but not close enough.

The whine you received was like music.

“Th-thousands of years I’ve lived- a-and I’ve never-,” she choked out, hands scrabbling for purchase at the sheets underneath her heaving body. You avoided direct contact with her skin or her clit, wondering if you’d make her black out with how sensitively she was reacting to the toy. 

“This isn’t even the highest setting, baby,” you grinned, running it in slow circles over the hood of her clit. The panties she was wearing were soaked.

“T-turn it up higher,” she demanded. 

You paused. The only sounds were Galadriel’s gasps and the sound of the toy. 

“Are you sure?”

She pulled you closer by the back of your neck, mouth wide as she kissed you and devoured you, tongue licking into you. 

“Yes.”

You did as she asked, your own mind swimming with arousal, and her body began to tense, her gasps and groans going higher and higher in pitch as she neared orgasm.

Knowing she was close, you reached down with your other hand, pushed aside the panties enough for your fingers to slip through. You pressed inside, curled up and rubbed in that rough, delicious spot inside of her that made her scream, which she did.

Her body convulsed under your touch, thighs shaking as you held her down. One arm thrown over her face, gasping into the crook of her elbow. 

The Lady was sweating, her figure glimmering with a delicious sheen. You smiled wickedly as you tugged her arm away, revealing flushed cheeks and blown eyes. 

She pulled at your grip, wanting to hide her disheveled state, but you didn’t let her go, instead leaning forward and kissing her over and over. 

“Don’t pass out, please?” you begged her, watching her hooded eyes, “there's loads of other things we could try.”

“I don’t think I can handle any more of your world’s advancements,” she groaned, making you smile. 

“Then let me treat you with something a little more.. old-fashioned.”

You tugged her underwear off before she could protest, and nestled your face into her dripping cunt, licking up all of her juices and revelling in how sweet she smelled.

“O-oh, oh my,” she cried out, hands grabbing your hair as you feasted. 

You knew her libido was relentless; she’d pounced on you one or two times in  a way that made it clear she could be very sex-driven. So you pushed her to a second and third orgasm with ease, feeling her go limp and boneless by the time you finally finished licking her clean.

She was still wearing that adorable sweater, her long hair fanned out over your pillows, one leg pushed out far enough to dangle off of the edge of the bed.

She said something Elvish under her breath, body arching and trembling in the aftershocks. You urged her to sit up, tugged off the sweater, and she attacked your face with kisses, muttering sweet nothings, half of which you couldn’t understand.

Your body melted at her words nonetheless, filled with love and desire, and she never seemed to stop kissing you, 

“I may be the luckiest Elf alive,” she sighed, “who else has ever experienced such pleasure?”

Her words made you grin, because to you it was a simple, effective toy, but to her it was another world, another life entirely, something new and exciting. And you got to be the one to give it to her. The thought made your head spin.

You were sitting on the bed and she had crawled into your lap again, dipping her head low to kiss you, and her body began rocking against your thigh, signalling her need for more.

“Again?” you asked, turning up the vibe once more, and her eyes shone with mischief. She nodded, and you knew sleep was still a long way off for you.

A/N: this is basically like, polar opposite of my Hela/reader style of writing, and I don’t mind one bit :D hope u liked it my loves! wasn’t there something where CB had said Elves don’t wear underwear? Yeah I agree taglist: @the-obscurity​

[ohheyitsokay]

congrats you angel, you deserve all the love and praise for your writing bc holy shit you’re so talented!!! for the soulmate au celebration, i’m thinking either javi or jack (your choice bc i can’t choose) with the soulmate goose of enforcement au 💕 ik it’s a bizarre au but the potential for chaos is insane 😂 anyways ily and i hope you’re having a great day honey

...not me, having JUST reread your javi/jack fic, considering both... definitely me

Anyway, thank you, jj, you absolute gem of a human. I swear I had to turn up the fan reading this I got so flustered. I hope you have a great day too! And I hope you enjoy- I had to do a little research, and made it shorter than I wanted to, so hopefully it fills your chaos cup still!  (You'll understand, and hopefully forgive my delay when you see what's under the cut :) )

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: strong language, lil angst with happy endings all around. mild menace meeting menace shenanigans 

Okay this is written as pt 1 Jav, pt 1 Jack, pt 2 Jav, pt 2 Jack, bonus pt 3. If you’re only in it for one of the boys, it makes reading a bit weird, but I liked the format for the whole thing. Sorry!

>>

Javier wanted to hit it with a bat. Or a car. Or anything. All that mattered is that maybe then it would leave him the fuck alone. Of all the stupid, infuriating, ridiculous guides the universe could have given him to find his other half, he was sure this was the worst. Rumor was, he couldn't even kill it if he tried.

It's not that he didn't want to find his soulmate, but he... well, he didn't want to find his soulmate.

There were all sorts of excuses to spout - work, obviously a priority, inconvenience, not wanting to give up his way of life. Not to mention following a damn goose was an impossible task, plus the fact that the stupid thing didn't even like him.

It would appear seemingly at random, honking insistently or flapping erratically, and then be gone before anyone else could bat an eye. To say that he had become increasingly irritated would have been a huge understatement.

The truth of it was that Javier was afraid. No one in the world liked to feel like they were being controlled. People liked to know what was going on, and this just didn't fit the bill. He didn't like that he didn't know you, couldn't be chosen, by you.

His life was already complicated enough - messy enough - that a soulmate would only make it worse. He had made it this long, this far without needing one, so he was fine without, thank you very much. Even to himself, his lie sounded okay.

It was hard to face, the idea that there was someone out there, a relationship that he couldn't have control over. And someone who would love him unconditionally? Terrifying.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed to do nothing, because it seemed like every direction he turned there was a goose from hell wreaking havoc on his life.

They had reached an impasse - glowering at each other as it had planted itself in front of his door. Little feet pacing angrily, unreasonably long neck, all of it was just begging to be kicked. Except, for all he was a seasoned DEA agent, Javier was almost afraid the thing could go a few rounds with him. Feet shuffling uneasily, his hand twitched for his gun, even though he knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t shoot.

It was stupid to have a staring contest with a goose. And even more stupid that the goose won .

Javier turned away, spitting spanish curses in a stream that would make his mama smack him. Maybe it wasn't too late to find a hookup he could use to crash, he was thinking, and that thought was apparently the final straw. The goose reappeared in front of him.

Hissing.

More curses, a quick turn on his heel. This time, it didn't move in front of him, it left a sharp peck on his calf, before dodging his kick.

It was herding him, against his will, to you.

-

When he saw the goose, Jack thought he was delirious. The Statesman lab must've screwed something up because he'd seen that horrible, wonderful, stupid goose once before, in another life.

And he never, ever thought he'd see it again.

He did a lot of thinking, that night and the next day and the next. Strangely, he did a lot of feeling, too, noticing how light his shoulders felt, how kind the ache on his heart had become. He visited their grave, pressed his forehead to the headstone, and breathed some deep breaths.

And when he saw the goose again, he lassoed it.

It wouldn't have died even if it was powered up, but he didn't take the chance, determination and longing filling his being like blood, pumping through his heart to each and every part of him.

Miracle of miracles, it let him, with all the glare a bird could give. Knees only making small pops, Jack settled on his heels, looking at it sternly.

"Can you take me to them?"

The expression on it's tiny, smug face didn't change, but it also didn't disappear to free itself, so he waited.

And he waited. And waited. And eventually, watching it with half an eye, he grabbed a doughnut and offered it to the stupid soulmate goose god.

It considered the doughnut, pecked it as Jack yanked his fingers out of reach, and apparently accepted. After it was finished, it began to tug him along, waddling on its makeshift leash as Jack's heart leapt into his throat. He grabbed the bag of doughnuts and his hat before getting dragged along, to you.

-

At his very core, Javier was a man driven by his personal sense of justice. Being herded by an immortal goose of mischief was unfair, it made no sense that he had to find you, somehow needed more, and wasn't allowed to choose. It pecked and honked and bullied him all the way to a crowded bar, which was a perfect example. 

Just as he was thinking, trying to convince himself he would've come here on his own, it disappeared again and he sighed.

He needed a drink. And, he needed to make some of his own goddamn decisions. Defiance and determination, he told himself. Not stubbornness. There was nothing to prove, it was just defiance and determination, to take his fate into his own hands and make his own choices. And if he was going to do that, he wanted to look for someone who wasn't an informant or a one night stand. His gut was looking for someone he could pull to his side and to show the universe that the goose was right to give up on him.

You were a perfect fit. Slightly disgruntled for whatever reason, even through the crowd he could see the faint, telltale wrinkles of someone just as... determined as he was. Shoulders held the same defiance he was so proud of, and he would be lying if he wasn't physically drawn to you as well. The inconsistent lighting could make anyone look good if you wanted it enough, but you... were something else.

There was a line of pink neon reflection from the top of your ear, across your cheekbone, and just grazing the line of your upper lip as you looked thoughtfully at something he couldn't see. Javier thought he wouldn't mind tracing that path with his fingers, and then maybe his own mouth, and his feet were already carrying him to you to look for an open door. The rest of your form came into view, and Javier noticed the bass of the music was turned up a little bit more than necessary- he could feel it thumping in his bones.

Talking to you went smoother than maybe it ever had before. You seemed resigned, at first, which was a reaction that caught him off guard, and that combined with the weariness of his week, making him unusually candid. In turn, you opened up to him like a flower turning towards the sun, fun and thoughtful and refreshing. 

He liked the way you laughed when his lines came out a little awkwardly - open and appreciative, and it made his chest puff out a little. He liked the way you spoke, too. There was kindness and romance in your soul, just whispering at the edges of the words, and while he didn’t pick up on that, per se, they made him feel special, handsome, worthy, but also trusted and comfortable and safe. Neither of you noticed at first, that you had shuffled into a quiet corner of the bar, that his body had moved close, a gentle shield boxing the two of you into your own little world.

When the question came - what brought you here, anyway? - he found himself answering honestly about half being led by his guide, then wanting to make his own path. His confidence faltered at your quiet laugh. His heart ached. A glance at the clock told him it had been two hours since he'd found you, and already he wanted to... choose you. To have you choose him.

He felt stupid that he had confessed so soon, but...

Oh, you were kissing him. There were hands shooting off sparks into his soul against his chest and his jaw and you were kissing him. Javier kissed you back.

When you pulled away, his mouth chased yours, not ready to give up the contact so soon, but you stopped him, laughing again.

"I have a confession," you whispered, and he paused.

“My guide led me here, too. I thought when it gave up on me when I saw you,” your next kiss was more chaste, “I think we got tricked.” Noticing he liked the feel of you in his arms, even if he didn’t remember pulling you there, he tightened his hold.

Javier felt light, understanding your laughter, and blissfully unafraid. “No,” he said, knowing already you’d understand him. 

“I chose you.” 

- 

Jack was running out of doughnuts. It was easier, safer to have the dumb bird half hog-tied, but he still didn’t feel any closer to you, just halfway across town. He dug in his boots and sunk onto a bench, yanking the goose to a stop, too annoyed to beg for a break. 

He wasn’t giving up and running away, absolutely not, he was just... running out of options. Or, doughnuts. And breath. If this pace kept up, he wouldn’t be able to tell you all the things he had planned out in his head. 

Eyelids closing against the southern sun, he let out a long, slow sigh. His heart was still racing, and he wondered if he was really as ready as he wanted to be, to meet his next soulmate. A sturdier inhale grounded him. He was ready, he knew he was. Whoever you were, you had to have the patience of a saint - it would be alright, he just needed a breath. The ground under his boots was sturdy, the breeze over his skin cooling, and the goose was mercifully quiet. 

“That’s one strange lookin dog you have there, cowboy,” The voice was teasing, but not malicious, and he grinned, eyes still closed. 

“She’s a purebred,” he replied, and he heard a huff of laughter like the first few notes of music. Waiting for your footsteps to carry you away, he savored the moment, feeling silly as he hoped his soulmate would like to laugh as much as he did. 

There was a weight on the other side of the bench, and he wondered at it, as you said, “Want to talk about it?” His smile was softer, this time, intrigued by the moment, but not wanting to be tempted into flirting, not when his soulmate was on the horizon. 

“Nothin to tell,” he replied, feeling suddenly strange. Jack opened his eyes, looking at the rope in his hands, feeling the fibers run through his fingers. “Just a free range chicken... taking a break from tryin to chase down my second soulmate.” He winced, definitely not wanting to look at you, after the second had slipped out. 

It wasn’t judging, though, the voice that said, “You seem like you want to talk about it.”

For once in his life, Jack didn’t know what to say, slipping off his hat to run his fingers through his hair before replacing it. He heard your half-laugh again, and it felt refreshing, like sweet tea on a southern summer day. 

“Okay,” you said, and he heard amusement this time, like you had something to say, some thought you were chewing on. 

Then, there was that terrible honk of the goose, not from his feet, but from where, assumedly, you were. Snapping his gaze to the other side of his bench, he saw a sight for sore eyes, half backlit, glowing like something he never thought he’d see.

There was an indignant goose in a cage at your ankles, now making grumbling bird noises in indignant conversation with the one at the end of his lasso. 

“I thought you were never gonna look at me,” Your arm was across the back of the bench as you grinned at dynamite smile at him. 

Jack returned it, feeling bashful and eager, dropping the rope to grab your closest hand. 

“I promise I aint making that mistake again, sugar.”

-

bonus ending:

Jack was clinging to your hand, grinning like a fool as you introduced yourselves, when another movement caught his eye. There was a man, walking up behind you, a resigned look on his face. Whiskey’s hackles should have been all the way up, yanking you into his arms at the way this man was approaching you, but instead he was dumbfounded for the second time that day. 

He was backlit, too, with shoulders that carried as much weight as the man in his mirror every morning, and he could see the shape of a gun as he knelt next to his soulmate. The stranger’s eyes when they looked at you... were as adoring as he was sure his must have been, a moment before, and he was familiar with you, like you’d known each other before now. Jack wanted to swallow, but his heart felt like it was in his throat, beating like he’d gone a round with a bull at the rodeo.

“This is probably a lot,” Javier said, taking you other hand and quirking an eyebrow. The geese made some loud, obnoxious noises and he looked at them appreciatively. “I wish I had thought of that,” he gestured at the lasso, and you smiled at him. 

“This is Javier,” you said, and you let go of them both to stand up and brush yourself off. Warm hands and strong grips were exchanged, and you watched them curiously as they shook, murmuring names and titles again. They were sizing each other up, certainly, but you felt a rush of relief as you saw a familiar spark of attraction in Javi’s eyes. 

“You got any more surprises for us, then?” you looked up at the cowboy, confused, only to realize he wasn’t talking to you. The goose in your cage was free halfway down the walk, the one in the lasso hissed. The poor man had been an RV in an earthquake and come out the other side overwhelmed and happy, of all things, but there wasn’t much more he could handle. To your surprise, he grabbed a crumbled paper bag and tossed the contents to the bird, before it gave a final honk, and waddled after it’s friend. 

“I guess that’s a no,” you said, suddenly shy at the fullness in your heart. 

“That’s alright,” Jack picked up his lasso, before looking at you and Javier, his eyes happy, and glinting with something stronger. “I think this is more than enough.”

And you agreed.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179

for whiskey:

@0celestialbitch0

[thewriterowl]

some headcanon about Luke childhood and adolescence on Tatooine?

Oh sure thing! Now, I’d definitely use a lot of what is talked about already.

Luke was sort of exiled from most people, especially any of those who are close to his age. 

Now, Tatooine is a hella lonely planet. I recently reblogged an amazing chart that has so many planets, their systems/rims, stats, etc. and it provides so much info. Like how it is estimated only around 200,000 people live on all of Tatooine. The clumps of population are sort of spread out and hopping from one town to the next is not just something you can just get up and do. So Luke has almost no opportunity to even find friends.

I pictures that Biggs actually didn’t like Luke at first when they were kids. That he followed the group and that his family maybe urged for him to stay away from that boy, something just wasn’t quite right to him. The Lars were a rather respectable sort but they were still...odd. His father Cliegg was a pretty good man who saved and married Shmi Skywalker after his wife died, and Shmi was a good soul too...but there were so many rumors about her and her son who she claimed did not have a father. The son that won a race, threw a lot into chaos, and disappeared with cloaked figures. Lars claims this boy is the son of the missing child of Shmi, who had died when all that dramatics happened in the Core Worlds.

It was just...odd. And Luke was odd. Yes, there have been kids born with blond-ish hair and blue eyes before...but the colors were always darker. Their eyes would be such dark blue that they probably could look brown in some light and usually when they reach the teenage years the hair was already starting to darken. It was just a sort of normal thing on the planet. Pretty much everyone grew up too. Even the most measly of slaves had to have girth and strength on them to be of any use on this planet.

Luke just was always slightly off. His hair remained this pretty gold, his eyes were such a strange hue of blue, his face never took on a tough or quite masculine appearance, and he was just small. He was lanky and awkward and just never jumped in height like most kids. He was pathetically weak looking which is enough for most to keep their distances because if you’re around someone weak you could get drug down too.

Then there was those weird things that happen around him. Creatures that normally stayed hidden in the depths of the Tatooine desert and never inched close to towns would be found skulking and whimpering around the Lars’ property, always clawing at the wall that surrounded Luke’s room. The kid always knew where to search for a new well. He could sense when a seller is not being quite honest. He picked up blaster shooting quicker than any other child and could always find his target.  He knew how to use a speeder masterfully when he was ten. Beru’s plants sprouted with Luke nearby and gave them vegetables even during the drier months. He could predict things. And, as a child, when he had his rare tantrums things seemed to move. Then there was the fact that mysterious old Ben could be seen, only just, in the background, watching over the kid.

So, yeah, Luke was not seen as a welcomed sort.

But he was so stubborn and so eager for attention and to make friends that Biggs had a hard time fighting him off. The kid just managed to always find him so he just sorta gave up. He wasn’t about to bash a kid built like a twig’s nose in. That wasn’t exactly honorable. And well...Luke is actually pretty fun. He was always excited to go on adventures. He said yes to most anything. He was up for any dare. No matter what happened, he would always smile about it, just happy to be included. Biggs found he had far more fun with this kid than most anyone else so he just took him under his wing. Biggs was probably one of the more popular guys growing up so a lot of people left Luke alone after that, just primarily ignoring him or a cruel name tossed his way and or there.

Luke got kidnapped at least once in “cannon” but I believe that the Hutts would’ve tried to get him for the slave market. Maybe he wouldn’t sell for too much on Tatooine but he was clearly growing up into something pretty and different and that could be a lot of credits for them. Obi-Wan put a stop to it the moment he realized Luke had their attention and no one looked for Luke after that.

He tried to run away once, because he just felt so drained and empty on Tatooine, but Owen found him and dragged him back and scolded him so bad that Luke’s early stages of guilt-complex really ignited. He didn’t mention leaving for a little while after that. But he clearly was desperate to leave.

Luke had a lot of weird dreams. Sometimes even when he was awake. He could see and hear things that were there but...not. Sometimes it was foggy and blurry but he could make out a tall man who blinked from human to a black mass, breathing like a monster. Sometimes it was a man with white robes and long hair and a beard who would smile at him and give him a pat on his head, his expression calm and knowing but always gentle and comfortable. Sometimes the man would blur and Luke could see a hole in his stomach. Sometimes he would see a tall woman who glowed and had glowing green hair who would hold him close, calling him the Light’s child. Other times there was this odd pull to...someone...his mirror. Not his reflection but...yet she, as he knew it was a she, was. This other part of him. And sometimes he swore she felt him right back. He could sometimes hear a little thrum, it sounded like someone like him, but maybe younger...or maybe older, asking for the dark to please leave. He could hear another boy, someone Luke was connected to in some way, full of so much anger and kindness as he donned himself in armor. And sometimes he saw a pale monster, cackling in the shadows, with glowing yellowed eyes and who felt like decay.

Most times, he just never felt quite alone. Like there was something, or multiple somethings, always there. This pull, this connection, to everything. When he focused on it too much it made him very tired so he didn’t do it too often.

He didn’t talk about these things to his family either. 

Luke asked about his parents a lot but his aunt and uncle always refused to tell him much. They claimed to only have a little information on his father and knew nothing of his mother. He never gave up, trying to get as many stories from them as possible but it was always the same four to five stories each time.

Luke felt, or at least believed he felt, that his parents did love him and didn’t abandon him. They just died, which was sad but quite normal on Tatooine. He still wished he could see their faces and hear their voices. He usually just called them Mother and Father in his head, as a slight way to detach himself from the pain, cause Luke would be the sort who would call them mommy and daddy when he was young and then mom and dad when he was older. Mother and Father was just this...title he had for two strangers he wished he knew.

Luke still loved them very much and liked to pretend they would show up on the doorstep one day and pull him into a hug, holding him tight, and promising to never leave him again. That they would all stay together.

Luke thrived off of fairy-tale like stories and could never get enough speed in his life. Politics were never something he understood. He had plans on joining the Imperial Academy the moment he was able to become a pilot and travel across the galaxy. He could probably earn credits and get his own place and maybe take care of his aunt and uncle. He often wondered if he could be a hero.

He caused mischief but mostly on accident. He did not need much to keep him occupied and Owen realized he was very good with building, taking care of, and communicating with droids than most.

When he was seventeen to eighteen, folks who were a lot older or a very unsavory would approach Owen to try and get a deal to marry Luke.  He was still small and lanky, but people were beginning to notice he was prettier than some girls. Even some from the Hutt’s circle came in with offers to marry Luke into their protection--he could even live at the palace. Owen always rejected every proposal and kept Luke even closer to home after that, rarely letting him leave unless he was with Biggs. After Biggs left, it was always a battle to let Luke leave the farm. It made Luke smothered and a bit exhausted and whiny. He was nearing twenty and he was still treated like this delicate child.

Luke did have a massive crush on Biggs but never acted on it. Other than that he was far more interested in other things. 

He was good in picking up most languages by ear, he seemed to know Binary from the start, but he could never do well with speaking. it always sounded awkward to him. Beru taught him to read and write and she found if Luke only had a few texts, after a few lessons he would start to pick things up. Before he leaves, he is fluent in understanding Basic, Binary, Huttese, Jawaese, and Tusken sign. He can’t speak a lick of anything outside of Basic. 

Luke was always very kind and apologetic to whoever he met. He always felt he was something wrong and broken and would try to not bother anyone if he could. If something happened he was quick to blame himself (picked up from a lot of his interaction with the people of Tatooine and, unintentionally, from his aunt and uncle who did appear fearful of him at times). He puts other people first and has a hard time seeing other having faults but rather he is so broken that he makes them have faults.

He loves sweets but for savory, his was a big fan of things like rice and bread (I swear, in a Modern AU Luke would almost live off of Japanese rice and would be someone who could actually cook it (cause i can’t and it breaks my heart) and could just eat it as is or he just has it as the foundation for every meal) with some vegetables. He did not grow up with seasoning so he has no idea how to really use it...but would grow to enjoy it after some time.

Luke loves anything dog-like. He probably won over some Tusken’s because their dogs adored Luke.

Luke is amazing at engineering...but ask him what 6+6 is and he’ll probably go blank. Don’t make the poor boy think. He runs on instinct and can easily short-circuit his brain if he tries to think about what he is doing (cause often he shouldn’t really know it as he wasn’t taught it, he just somehow knows what to do)

Just cause of how Tatooine is...it is possible Luke has rarely been hugged and potentially rarely told he was loved.

[lokidrabbles]

Perfect Fit (Loki x Reader)

Peter Parker tells reader about what Loki thinks of them.

A/N: Another oneshot, this time featuring Spiderman as the medium for Reader and Loki. Also, my headcanon remains that Loki refers to Peter as Spider Boy. As always, Gender Neutral Reader!

Warnings: None! Fluff n’ such!

Your eyes peered up from your paperwork to catch sight of the fidgeting teen sitting in front of your desk. You empathized with him. It was always some sort of hell fire when Tony or any of the Avengers reprimanded one of the outlier members for failing to complete a mission in time, or failing to follow a inward duty to protect others. Although the consequences of the damage the young Spiderman had left behind were very minimal (extensive property damage, but no one seriously hurt), Tony still upheld his duty as Peter’s pseudo guardian, and laid it hard on him.

As part of the process, you were in charge of filling all the damage reports and costs left behind by the throws of battle, and Tony ordered Peter to witness the extent of his mistake through financial eyes. Or maybe through boring clerical work. Whatever the matter, Peter looked absolutely nervous, probably dreading to hear just how much his antics caused the city (or Tony).

“You know I’m not actually going to tell you how much cash Tony is going to have to fork out, right?” You asked him, causing him to jump slightly.

“What, really? I mean, are you sure? ‘Cus I’m sure Mr. Stark wanted me to, uh, witness the depth of my carelessness.” He stuttered in response.

“I mean yes, you definitely want to be more cautious. But this, in comparison to Tony’s own damage cost analysis, is almost nothing. I’m sure this is just his weird way of wanting to make sure you’re keeping the citizens and yourself safe out there. Also I feel if I tell you, you’re going to be harder on yourself than you need to be.”

Peter let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. I really am sorry about what happened, I did try to be as careful as I could.”

“I’m sure you did kid. The important thing is that building was insured, and that no one was seriously hurt. You good?”

“Yes, yes!” He responded hastily, and you almost felt the weight being lifted from his shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re just as nice as Mr. Loki mentioned you to be.”

You shot a quizzical look at Peter. “Uh, Mr. Loki?”

“Well, yeah? Mr. Thor’s brother? I’ve seen you both together a lot here at the facility.”

Of course you knew who he was talking about, but the fact that Loki made his chipper self into this conversation was odd at best. From your documentation, you found out Loki had been assigned to this small escapade in the outskirts of the city. It actually made you content to see Tony’s mistrust in him begin to dwindle, allowing him to participate in the Avenger’s daily heroism. You could almost see his sour face once he found out this precise squad would be lead by Tony himself. But it made sense.

“What’s Mr. Loki doing gossiping about me to you?” You asked teasingly.

“Nothing bad! I can swear by that!” Peter said, putting his hands up in defense. “I think he just wanted me to feel better.”

“That’s a good one kid.” You chuckled. “It’s a miracle on it’s own to have Loki talk one word to anyone. You have no idea how long it took me to have him say a simple hello to me.”

“Really?” Peter asked, slowly pulling his hands down. “I know Mr. Loki is always very reserved, and he was a little scary at first. But he’s actually kind of, really nice too.”

“You must have a very skewed definition of nice.” You said sarcastically. You jested however. You had experienced Loki’s ‘niceness’ firsthand, in his own bizarre way. Loki’s form of nice didn’t really fall under your typical definition of it. Nice was, for example, telling someone thank you, bringing thoughtful gifts, buying someone lunch. Loki’s nice more so included telling you that you were being stupid and foolish for failing to believe in yourself, and that you should be ashamed of yourself, blah blah blah. He got the right intention, but his delivery was horrible. You cringed at the thought of poor little Peter having to go through that.

“I mean, maybe? He was very helpful during the mission, and his strategy at the whole thing. I was like, wow! He moved so fast in between everything, I had such a hard time keeping up. Though, maybe that’s why I got so distracted in the first place.” He sighed, still blatantly defeated for his error.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself though. For what it is, I think you’re a pretty talented kid too.” You said with a toothy smile. “Loki’s just a big show off though.”

He laughed in a much more relaxed manner. “Thanks, that means a lot. But I must have really taken it hard when Mr. Stark raised his voice at me. Mr. Loki approached me and told me I’d be sent over to your department and how you’d be very welcoming, nice and easygoing.”

You were slightly irritated at how Loki found it so easy to tell Peter all these likeable things about you, yet still failed to do so with you in person. Yet, you knew his reason’s to do so with Peter. Again, Loki wasn’t the most approachable man in the universe, but that didn’t mean he was completely heartless. His words with Peter, while few, were carefully chose to make the young teen feel less anxious. You mentally reminded yourself to give a him a big smooch the next time you saw him.

“I’m actually really happy to hear that.” You said, leaning against the back of your chair. “It looks like he found someone who he’s comfortable with, so that gives me some peace at mind.”

Peter became obviously confused at your comment. “I’m not sure I get that.”

“You said it best at first. He’s a scary fella. But it seems you got to him somehow. So trust me, from now on you got another set of eyes keeping watch of you, making sure you’re safe out there.”

“Actually, I think that make’s me a little more nervous.” He said sheepishly.

“Oh well yeah, be very wary of the God of Mischief.” You said ominously, followed by a snort and giggle.

“Oh, wait. Are you and Mr. Loki dating?”

Your giggles soon stopped, as your mouth remained agape in shock. Again, this was not where you expected a conversation about Loki to go to. You now felt like the nervous teenager in the room instead. Through its entirety, both you and Loki did well at keeping the relationship under wraps, understanding the impending chaos that would ensue if anyone (Tony and Thor) would find out. Well, maybe Loki could care less, but you still had a job and income to maintain. While inner work relationships were not uncommon here, there might be some adherence to having a relationship with someone who used to be on the blacklist.

“No.” You said lowly. Even you wouldn’t have believed that no.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything like that. It’s just, Mr. Loki seemed to have talked fondly of you, and I do see you both together quite a bit. Also you both look really good together, but like not to mean you are dating or anything!”

“Okay Peter! I think we’re done here. I’ll take care of the rest, tell Tony you learned your lesson and all BS, and you can be on your merry little way, yes?” You said, rummaging through you documents, and handing Peter a crumpled up slip with your signature on it.

Peter took the slip slowly, unsure of what he hand uncovered with his innocent introspection. “Are you okay?”

“I’m super.” You feigned through a false smile. “Thanks for dropping by, but I got some more work to do.”

The young teen, still bewildered by your sudden agitation, took it for nothing and soon tip toed out of your small office. You let out a heavy breath and slumped in your chair. It seemed you were in the clear for now, and you figured Peter would be a smart kid and avoid spreading unnecessary rumors. Also for the sole fact that his life would be at risk if Loki were to ever find out he’d tattle at Tony. Still, your mind raced back to the encounter Peter had told you about, and how Loki made a worthwhile impression on the young teen. It warmed your heart knowing someone else seemed to have approved of your gloomy partner.

Towards the end of your shift, you were visited by said partner in efforts to soon spend a relaxing evening at your home. Loki casually seated himself on the seat in front of your desk, arms crossed over his chest.

“I hear the Spider boy paid you a little visit?” He asked playfully.

“He did in fact. He’s a sweet kid.” You responded, eye still glued on your computer screen. “A little naive, but sweet.”

“Stark was relentless on him today. Dare I say, I felt sorry for the lad. He looked like a scared puppy.”

You hummed in a chipper manner. “Yeah, he told me all about it. He also told me how Mr.Loki made him feel a whole lot better today.”

You heard Loki grunt, a way for him to avoid talking about it. You figured it was still awkward for him to hear about his ‘good deeds’ with the type of shit he’s gone through.

“He was very impressed by your skills set. You may have a little fan boy in the making.” You grinned, finally closing your laptop. “I think we should adopt him as our child.”

“You’re hysterical.” He responded flatly.

“I’m mad at you though.” You said as you began to gather your belongings.

Loki raised an eyebrow at you. “Pray tell why?”

“How come you tell Peter all of these nice things about me, yet you always avoid doing so to my face?”

Loki remained quiet, draw back by the nature of your question. You meant to approach the subject in a playful manner, still understanding how Loki had his own special way of showing affection. Yet, you saw how Loki rested his chin at the top of his knuckles, analyzing and concocting an appropriate answer. He looked adorable.

“I suppose I really haven’t done so.” He said admittedly. “What would you like to hear?”

You felt your face heat up. “It doesn’t really work if I tell you what I want to hear. Also, that’s embarrassing.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Peter told me all the good things though.” You began. “It does make me happy that you think that way about me, instead of an absolute bother.”

He rolled his eyes. “I do hate your incessant ability to self-deprecate. However, everything else the Spider boy mentioned is absolutely true.”

“How lovely to hear.”

Loki stood up and began assisting you with your bags and belongings. You smiled with a strong sense of satisfaction, promptly turning off the lights in your office.

“I also forgot to mention to him that you’re amazing, and incredible.” He whispered behind you. “That I love your smile, and I love how your hand fits so well into mine. That I always look forward to seeing your bright eyes every single day, that I-”

You felt your lips begin to twist in both joy and uneasiness. You jabbed Loki slightly at his side, urging to promptly stop before you explore. “Cut it out. I can’t tolerate this level of cheesiness.”

He smirked mischievously at you. “Then I will have to draw out my admiration for you with the Spider boy if you aren’t able to tolerate it. I’m sure he would be more than happy to hear about it.”

“You better fucking not.”

---

Later in the evening, a young Peter Parker, overseeing the block from the top of a building, took note of Mr. Loki firmly leaving the facility with you, hands hidden, side by side. Upon further inspection, Peter deducted it would be best to keep quiet about this encounter, sensing how distressed you had been about it earlier today. He felt correct about his assumption however; both you and Loki looked good together.

[nitannichionne]

If He Was YOUR Fan (Henry Cavill Fan Fic) - Chapter 7: Working It Out

You awaken for the first day of work at dawn. You did not get a lot of sleep feeling so excited and anxious at once. You find out that Archer and his brother go work out at a nearby gym, and asked to tag along the night before. Naturally, you must find a plus one.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Stella says, sliding into the back seat of Archer’s four door convertible Cooper.

“Ah, brought a friend, I see.” Archer smiles widely. “Hey, Stella.”

“Hey, Archer,” Stella greets. “Hi, Stuart.”

You just notice the slight breathlessness of her tone. She’s into Stuart!

“Hey.” He smiles widely, his dark eyes seeming to sparkle.

The drive wasn’t long. You all slide out and go to the gym, showing your studio IDs to get in without fuss or muss.

“Oh, there he is!” Stella squeals, tugging on your arm.

Archer and Stuart look over in the direction Stella does. Archer rolls his eyes. “Dear God. It is him.”

“Let’s go—” Stuart shrugs.

“Oh, uh—” Stella is wide-eyed and smiles the same way she heads to the treadmills. “Sure.”

“You coming?” Archer asks.

“No, I have a workout,” you explain. You don’t tell them that you made sure you were in your best condition traveling Europe alone before you left home. “I’m hitting the elliptical.”

“Seriously?” Stella asks

“I’ll be—” you point at the row of them. “right over there.” You smile and move on. After a few stretches, you get on the elliptical and set it for ten minutes. You put in your earbuds and simply go for it. You listen to your workout faves-“Goa,” and “Extreme Ways” from the Bourne Supremacy” soundtrack. Passing the ten minute mark, you slow down to a stop just as the last song ends. You turn and—

“Oh!” you gasp, almost turning and stepping right into Henry.

“Good morning.” He says calmly, catching your by your forearms to help you balance.

You realize you have been this close-no, more than this close—to him before. “Wow, sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Henry chuckles lightheartedly. “You nearly knocked me down though.”

You giggle nervously, wondering if anyone knows how you’re feeling inside. “Well, you know us little pieces of leather-well put together but stronger than we look.”

“And soft to the touch?” he says so softly only you hear it. You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. “So you made it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod with a chuckle.

“And found the gym,” he smiles. “Most assistants don’t make it here unless it’s the weekend.”

“I thought I’d get it in before the day starts,” You shrug. “I don’t know if I’ll be here everyday, but it’s nice to know it’s here.”

“Well—” his gaze averts. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Yeah--” you smile, and for a few seconds, you are both staring at each other.

Suddenly, Archer calls you. “Hey, you done over there?”

Henry’s eyebrow raises and you do a slight shake of your head. “What?!”

“Whatcha doing next?” Archer asks. “Maybe I’ll join you!”

Henry’s gaze hardens and you feel uneasy. “See you around.”

“Hey!” Stella smiles, running over, with Stuart in pursuit.

“Oh, Henry, this is my friend Stella from catering, and this is Archer and Stuart from set design.”

Henry nods and watches you glance at Stella and Stuart standing close together.

“Ah,” a smile tugs at his lips. “Nice to see you all.”

“What’s next?” Archer asks. “Let’s do what you do.”

“You sure?” you ask.

“We’ll just…follow you.” Archer’s last two words hold suggestion and you blink at him, then up at Henry, who is now showing total disapproval.

“Uh, okay—” you shrug, trying to casual. “Care to join us?” You know the answer to that.

He shakes his head. “Total workout planned out,” he sighs. “I’ll definitely take a raincheck though.”

Archer frowns, and Henry’s eyes almost smolder as he looks into yours. “See you around.”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” Archer clearly doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t know does he, you tell yourself. Another to come clean to, you cringe inwardly. “Well?”

“Well, wha-“ You stop. Henry has gone back to his weights, and you need to clear your head. That’s what you came for, isn’t it? “Come on.” You go to the rower and sit on a rower. You hit play but adjust the volume, “Hanging Tree Remix” playing. You glance at the mirrors and sense Henry’s mood-it’s isn’t good, and he’s thinking-what, you don’t know.

You take a deep breath and hit the floor. “Plank workout.” You play “Yellow Flicker Beat” and then “Breath of Life,” concentrating on it though you see him slow and watch a few times. He leaves with a parting glare and you try to ignore it. You finally hit weights, do a few a combination exercise sets to songs like “24” and “cool down to “You Gotta Be.”

“Okay, guys that’s it. Thirty minutes, let’s go!” You look around, feeling relieved and invigorated, but now you wonder what will happen next. He seemed displeased. He couldn’t--he wouldn’t think you and Archer were starting something—would he?

You shower and change for work, and coffee does it’s magic as you grab a cup. Dressed in cargos, a t-shirt and vest, you tie your hair up into a ponytail and don a cadet cap.

“So who are you-Kim Possible or Lara Croft?” Stella jokes.

“Shut up,” you joke back. “Look at you.”

“Yeah we got polos,” Stella shrugs, tapping the name of the catering company embroidered on it. “We’re walking billboards.”

“How many did you get?”

“Three.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, good thing we have a washer at the house.”

“Tell me about it.”

Your morning flies by and you seem to do well. Between your backpack and leg pack, you were able to do quite a bit without having to run around. Soon the assistants are giving you more to do, and you wonder if this is how it is. You meet up with Stella for lunch, opting for a late one since she serves cast and crew.

“Okay, gotta tell you something!” she half squeals, half whispers. She pulls you by your hand and takes you behind the catering trailer.

“What?” you ask. You dump your salad into a huge cup, pour dressing on it and shake it. You both sit down on the back steps and leaning together. “It’s the first day, don’t gossip.”

“Gracie got shut down.”

“What?”

“Gracie asked Henry what he was doing tonight, and he said he was tired.”

Your heart deflates but you manage to remain aloof. “So?”

“Then she suggests they get together this week, catch up on old times?”

“And he said—”

“He said he is going to be busy!”

You lean in closer. “Then what?”

“She tells him he always seemed to find time and he says ‘Unless my schedule is full.’” Stella does her best British impression as she quotes Henry. “Her eyes got big and she looked around. ‘Who?’ she asked and Henry shook his head and walked off!”

Your heart starts to race. Are you the “Who?”

The afternoon is short since days of shooting start at dawn or a short time after. After getting to do lists for the next day, you are ready to go home, but decide to get a jump on things and start before you go.

“Aw.”

You sigh, recognizing Hannah’s voice, but decide not to look up at her as you input things into your tablet and schedule alarms to go off on your watch. “May I help you?”

“Gracie is not happy.”

“Oh.” You keep tapping and dragging things about.

Hannah crouches down in front of you and you look up at her. “She thinks Henry has someone here on set. Happen to know who it is?”

You lock eyes with her and take a breath. “Gossiping and mischief will get you fired. I thought you needed the money, Hannah.”

“I told her I thought it was you, and she laughed!”

You swallow hard, feeling your jaw clench.

“She looked at you and didn’t regard you as competition,” Hannah smiled maliciously. “We will find out.”

You scoff and shake your head. “Wow, so you two have time for this?”

“Two heads are better than one.”

“Ah, that is what they say,” you tilt your head to the side. “but it depends on which two heads.”

Hannah straightens. “I know you think you have a chance because you met him once, but you need to back off. He’s just being nice to you.”

You go back to your work on your tablet. “Thanks, I’ll take that under advisement.”

Hannah turns on her heel and leaves. You finish your work and shake your head. “Great,” you exhale heavily. “Two of them.”

“Two of what?”

You look up to see Henry. “God, you have got to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

He grins and offers his hand. You take it and he pulls you up effortlessly. “How was your first day?”

“Not bad,” you wrinkle your nose.

“How about you come to my place?” he asks. “I’ll get you home before sunrise, I swear it.”

You grin up at him. “Let’s try before the stroke of midnight.”

“How about curfew?”

“Deal!”

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomniacbookgirl @jencanbeyouryengeralt​ @sweetdreamsofgelato​ @maryann84 @omgkatinka​ @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae​ @henryobsessed​ @summersong69​ @kinbhot4henners​ @sunshine96love​ @michelehansel​ @radofrivia @thelastsock​ @michelehansel @tumblnewby @henryobsessed @defffcc @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks

[ask-the-riders]

Just an ordinary night

So uh... yeah. There's numerous things going on here. To kick everything off, Ret was more than likely under the light of a full moon and now Famine has to deal with the shift in his personality. Meanwhile, Pest and War are getting increasingly awkward because it's movie night, and right in front of them, it's like Ret's a completely different person with one goal: seduce Famine

This bit is mildly suggestive ^^" and I apologize in advance. Ret says some things in Spanish to mess with Fam, he's formed his ecto body, and there's a little grinding at one point, but it doesn't go further than that. Sex is also a subject that's brought up, but it's mostly Pest that's talking/joking about it, because he's being immature and picking on the other riders

On the plus side, Pestilence has a great time being a little shit and teasing not just Ret, but also War (and Death, just a tiny bit)

The rest of the stuff that happens has to do with Death, Connie, and Abrael. Namely,, Connie's way of trying to teach Abrael how to get stronger and be able to use her magic, followed by Connie receiving a bit of a lecture from War on how she needs to take a break from all of it. We also catch just a glimpse of the feelings that Connie still has for Death, too

**I used google translate for a few of Ret's lines, since I myself don't speak the language. Hopefully google translate didn't somehow mess any of it up ^^"

Famine's cheekbones were dusted the faintest shade of faded denim blue and he continued staring straight ahead, intent on watching the movie that everyone had agreed on. Pestilence and War were cuddled up to each other in the spare recliner, with War lying on top of her soulmate, neither one of them the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Retribution had agreed to join in on movie night as well, which was a bit odd to Famine. Usually, he either declined or brought a book and read while everyone else watched the movie. He hadn't brought a book this time though, which was also a bit odd. The shorter of the pair was seated on Famine's lap, snuggled as close to him as possible. Famine had his arms gently wrapped around the former prince, who currently had his face buried in the crook of his neck.

Everything was fine, right up until Famine felt the other begin to kiss along his neck vertebrae, occasionally nipping. At the unexpected sensations, Famine froze in place, his sockets widening the smallest bit. Keeping his voice low as to not disturb Pest and War, Famine mumbled, "Ret?... What're you doin'?..." Retribution's own voice almost sounded like a purr as he murmured back, "Tempting you. Is it working yet?"

The taller rider's blush darkened a small bit and he arched a brow bone, "Ret... seriously. What's up with ya? You've been actin' weird ever since sundown." Retribution hummed softly, remaining completely casual as he began to form his ecto body, "The full moon's out, that's why. I'll explain it better though if you kiss me first~" Famine unconsciously began to fidget, seeming hesitant, "Uhhh... I would, but Pest and War are here. Last time I checked, bein' lovey in front a' people wasn't somethin' you're a fan of."

Retribution made a face, almost pouting as he turned to fully face his partner, now straddling his lap. Feeling the other's formed body beneath his clothes as Ret leaned forward and pressed his chest against him, Famine's blush darkened even further. Immediately noticing this, the former prince laughed softly, his hands gently gripping Famine's shoulders as he began to kiss along his jaw. The taller of the two squirmed again, instinctively moving his hands to hold onto Ret's hips, and Ret let out the smallest gasp in surprise.

Famine briefly met his gaze and the shorter smirked, mischief flickering in his now hooded sockets as he purred, "¿Preferirías que lleváramos esto al dormitorio?~" Famine had no idea what Retribution had just asked, but upon seeing the rather sultry look he was wearing and recognising the language he just spoke as Spanish, Famine's single eye light momentarily vanished, leaving both of his sockets dark. His blush became much more obvious and Ret laughed softly again, clearly amused as he murmured, "It seems you like it when I talk to you like that... That's interesting."

Famine's eye light began to return and Ret smirked again, grinding himself down into his lap, "¿Te prende?" At the sudden pressure in his lap and against part of his pelvis, Famine clenched his jaw shut, trying to bite back a startled groan.

Glancing in their direction curiously, War's eyes immediately widened and her cheekbones burned blue; Unless her eyes were betraying her right now, it looked like Retribution was in the midst of trying to seduce Famine. What in the ever loving fu-

She lightly tapped on her soulmate's sternum with a finger, making sure to get his attention before whispering, "Please tell me you're seeing this too." Pest made a face, visibly confused, and War nodded toward the sofa. Shifting his gaze to the other couple and seeing the position they were in, Pest's cheekbones dusted a soft shade of green and he was silent for a moment before mumbling back, "Well damn... I wonder what's going on with Ret. There's no way in hell he'd actually be ok with doing this in front of anyone."

War sighed, making a face back at him, "Exactly. It looks like it's all him doing it, too. Fam looks like he's kinda just... sitting there and taking it." Pestilence glanced at the pair again and hummed, "Not anymore, it doesn't. Not when Fam's totally caved and is currently swapping saliva with him." The glitch glanced at the pair again and her blush began to spread down to her shoulders, in turn earning a soft chuckle from Pestilence.

Pest sighed after a moment, feigning disappointment, "Too bad that's not us... I'd love to be making out with you right about now." War scoffed, trying to hide a small, embarrassed smile, "Oh please, in this chair? We'd probably end up breaking it." Her soulmate snorted in amusement, rolling his eye lights and grinning. War had really begun to come out of her shell, and he was loving every moment of it.

Catching the sound of a soft moan coming from one of the two skeletons on the couch, War's blush began to glow faintly and she snapped, now feeling completely mortified, "Could you guys maybe NOT do this right now?! Some of us are trying to watch a movie!" The pair on the sofa separated, both of their faces stained with their own respective colors. Famine shifted Ret in his lap, now having the shorter sitting sideways again, and he cleared his throat, shooting a tiny, apologetic smile in Pest and War's direction, "Y-Yeah, sorry 'bout that, guys. Got a little carried away, I guess."

War deadpanned and rolled her eyes, "We noticed that." Sensing the steadily increasing awkwardness in the room, Pestilence arched a brow bone and spoke, "What's going on, anyway? Ret would've never done anything like this before. Not in front of us, at least. Is he doing alright?" Famine shook his head, clearly at a loss, "I have no idea, Pest. He just started comin' onto me outta nowhere, I swear. I didn't do anythin' to encourage him, either."

Pest's gaze shifted to Ret, whose face was now a bright shade of cyan as he looked up at Famine with heart shaped eye lights. Humming, Pestilence tilted his head, "You still with us, Apple Boy?" Retribution made a sound of confirmation and Famine let out a flustered sigh as the former prince moved, once again straddling his lap. Not even bothering to look at Pest and War, he spoke just loud enough to be heard, "Yeah, I'm still here. Obviously." Pestilence cracked a tiny smile, the other's sarcasm giving him a small amount of hope that he was fine, "You're not acting like yourself, dude. Are you feeling ok?..."

Ret made a face, wrapping his arms around Famine and hugging his head, pressing the taller rider's face into his chest, "For crying out loud, Pest, I'm FINE." At his face being pressed into his smaller partner's chest and feeling the soft ecto beneath his clothes, Famine's blush darkened several shades. Pestilence decided to push the issue, "Ret, come on. This isn't like you. Since when have you ever been the type to make out with someone with other people in the room?"

The former prince scoffed, appearing very minutely embarrassed as he pouted, "I'm fine, I swear. Is there really something so wrong about me being affectionate with the one I love?" War's brow bones lifted at the wording he used and she jumped into the conversation, "'The one you love'? What is this, a sudden declaration of love to him? This REALLY isn't like you." Ret shot a look at the glitch and she unconsciously shrunk back under his stare.

Absentmindedly petting Famine's skull, mindful of his head injury, Retribution let out a deep sigh, beginning to grow agitated, "He's my Honey Badger. If I feel like declaring my love for him, I will!" Pestilence immediately caught the nickname Ret had used to refer to Famine, and he grinned mischievously, a teasing tone to his voice, "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. You're his cute little firefly, and suddenly, he's also your big handsome honey badger? That's great, oh my god."

Retribution scowled at the teasing, beginning to tremble the smallest bit. Feeling the former prince's trembling, Famine frowned, immediately becoming concerned as he spoke, his voice muffled, "Ya ok, Moonbeam?... You're shakin' like a leaf." Instantly refocusing his attention on his partner, Retribution released his head, sliding down his body to affectionately nuzzle the side of his face before making a sound of uncertainty, "They're giving me a hard time, Famine. All because I'm trying to show you how much I love you." Famine sighed, his expression softening, "...Should we turn in for the night, then? We can go back ta my room and crash. Or yours, if you'd like that better."

Retribution immediately gave an answer, nodding his head eagerly, "I'd love that a lot... It'd be really nice to have you in bed with me again." Famine smiled softly, his grin turning sheepish as Ret leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. The former prince was quiet for a moment before he delicately placed a hand on Famine's chest and lowered his voice to a purr, just as he'd done a little bit ago, "Por favor hazme el amor esta noche también, Famine."

Famine still had no idea what Ret was saying, but damn, he'd be lying if he said it wasn't doing something to him. He cleared his throat, smiling sheepishly, "Ret... c'mon. Ya know I don't speak Spanish. If ya want somethin', you're gonna have ta tell me again in English so I can understand." Retribution made a face, looking shy as he slowly nodded again and glanced away from his taller partner. Now much more interested in what was going on with the pair, War and Pest exchanged glances, both silent as they tried to listen in and hear what was being said.

Retribution squirmed, his brilliant cyan blush spreading down to his shoulders. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking, his voice only slightly louder than before, "I...I was asking you to make love to me tonight, too. If you'd be ok with that, I mean." Famine's eye light momentarily extinguished and his face somehow erupted into an even brighter blush than before.

Pestilence and War's faces were now also stained with their respective colors as War suddenly choked on air, her body jolting. Pest snorted in amusement, gently caressing War's side in an attempt to soothe her as she worked on recovering from what she'd just heard. Retribution's form twitched in surprise as War choked on air, his sockets widening the smallest bit. Famine took a deep breath, trying to collect himself as Ret cuddled close to him again.

Just as War began to catch her breath and breathe normally again, Pest lightly nudged her, a stupid grin plastered on his face as he teased her, speaking louder than necessary, "So what do think, War? Should we have sex tonight?" War screeched, her body beginning to glitch harder than usual as she pulled away from her soulmate and lightly swatted at him, visibly mortified, "OH MY GOD, PEST, COULD YOU NOT CONSTANTLY TRY TO EMBARRASS ME?!"

Pestilence erupted into a fit of giggles, completely unapologetic, "Aw come on, you're so cute when you're embarrassed though, babe!" War growled, her threads snatching a pillow off the couch beside Famine. Once the pillow was within reach, the glitch roughly smacked Pestilence with it, "I'm warning you, Pest. I'm about two seconds away from smothering you to death with this pillow!" Pest wiggled his brow bones in a suggestive manner and playfully cooed, "That's unfair, babe. If you're gonna kill me, can I at least be suffocated by your ecto instead?" War shifted, landing another smack with the pillow to Pest's face, "Are you seriously asking that right now?! There's no way in hell I'd reward this kinda behavior, mister!" Pest laughed, reaching around his soulmate to lightly swat her rear, in turn earning another screech from her.

While the pair of soulmates went back and forth, Famine sighed deeply and shook his head, wearing a tiny smile with one of his arms loosely wrapped around Retribution. Ret remained pressed as close to him as possible, attempting to hide his face out of immense embarrassment. Wanting to spare his partner of any further teasing, Famine gathered him up into his arms and stood, beginning to carry him back to his room. Just as the pair slipped out of the living room, Death appeared, looking utterly exhausted as he began to glide across the room, seeming to float.

Settling on the now vacant sofa and stretching out, he let out a soft sigh of relief, practically sinking into the softness of the cushions. Seeing the reaper, Pestilence called out to him, still wearing a wide grin, "What about you, D? You gonna get laid tonight, too?" War spat out a small string of expletives at Pest, and Death only looked at him with a raised brow bone, his expression otherwise blank, "Excuse me?" Before Pest had the chance to reply, War pushed the pillow over his face to muffle his voice before speaking over him, "Feel free to ignore him. He's just being an idiot right now."

Death hummed in acknowledgement, letting his sockets drift shut, "I gotcha. May I ask why he chose this particular subject?" Pestilence jabbed his soulmate in the side, not quite hard enough to hurt, but only to make her loosen her grip on the pillow. As she let out a surprised yelp, he stole the pillow from her, placing it behind his head as his grin became mischievous again, "Maybe you should go ask Fam and Ret. I'm sure they'd have an answer for ya."

Death let out a low, long hum, the sound completely monotone. As he pieced together what Pestilence meant, he cracked one of his eyes open the smallest bit and sighed again, "I'm just gonna assume I know what they're probably doing right now." War made a soft sound, trying to push away her annoyance as she questioned the reaper, "Do you know what's going on with Ret? He's been acting really weird. Like... way more openly affectionate, and he was being super casual about attempting to seduce Famine when they were here with us."

Lying down and making himself comfortable, Death shrugged his shoulders, "The full moon's out. From what I know, that does something to him. Being more lovey is to be expected, but trying to seduce Famine?... He must've been outside under the direct moonlight or something. I don't really get how it works, but eh. As long as he's not being an ass and causing problems, I don't care what he does."

The front door opened and Conquest made her way inside, muttering to herself as she tugged Abrael inside after her, her orange magic closing the door. The former pirate appeared unconscious, not moving or speaking, and Conquest was very obviously less than impressed, one of Abrael's arms over her shoulders while one of her own was firmly wrapped around the other woman's waist as she used her body to support the other's weight.

Naturally, Pestilence was the first to speak, "Well damn. What'd you do to her, Connie? She looks pretty roughed up." Conquest let out a deep sigh, shifting Abrael and settling on hoisting her up into her arms, her magic appearing again to make it easier to carry her, "We've been training for a while, and I've been trying to teach her how to use magic and conjure things." She was silent for a moment, glancing at the former pirate and furrowing her brow bones, "Perhaps I should've started off slower and allowed her more time to work on the warm-ups."

War tilted her head, arching a brow bone, "Was she slacking off again or something?..." Annoyance seemed to very briefly take over Connie's expression, before it quickly faded to exhausted acceptance, "Yeah... As usual. It still hasn't dawned on her that she needs to be taking this whole thing seriously. I've tried approaching it from every possible angle, but so far, nothing's worked." The glitch made a face, able to sense Conquest's frustration, "...Y'know what, Connie? You're taking a break from training her. I'll take over for a while."

Conquest was surprised at War's words, both of her brow bones lifting, "War, that's very kind of you, and I really appreciate it, but I-" War growled lowly in agitation, and Conquest stopped speaking. Whenever War made that sound and had that look on her face, the conversation was officially over. There'd be no more debating the issue unless she wanted to risk upsetting the glitch, and Conquest wasn't about to take that chance. She trusted War enough to leave Mortem with her every so often, but at the same time, she knew what those blue threads of hers could do. Maybe she hadn't seen the full extent of what they were capable of, but she'd heard stories from the others.

She knew that, much like with Error's threads, their purpose was to capture and ensnare targets, right before shattering their souls. Connie knew War would never do that, but with her temper, sometimes it worried her a bit.

War had made the offer to take over training Abrael for a while so that Connie could take a break from it and rest, if need be. She was concerned for her, in her own roundabout way, but Connie understood, and she was thankful. Offering the glitch a soft smile, she sighed, "Alright then... If you're sure it won't be a problem, then go for it. I appreciate it very much." War hummed, "Yeah, sure... I know that you're trying to help Abrael get stronger so she's more capable of handling herself, but you're not taking into consideration what all the extensive training is doing to you, too. Nobody here wants to see you push yourself too hard and get hurt."

Conquest's disposition seemed to soften and her cheekbones flushed a faint shade of orange; She was so used to looking after others that it was always a surprise when anyone expressed any sort of desire to look after her. It was unexpected and a bit odd feeling, but it made Connie smile again, "I know... Thank you for being concerned about me, War. It really means a lot to me."

War's own face became a soft shade of blue and she waved off Connie's words, "Yeah, yeah, sure. 'M glad you're happy." Conquest rolled her eye lights and resisted the urge to giggle at the sudden shift in the other rider's attitude; From openly concerned and worried, to awkward and embarrassed... Yeah, that sounded about right for War.

She stole a quick glance at Death, who was still sprawled out on the couch with his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful and relaxed... It was nice to see him looking that way, instead of stressed and exhausted. She attempted to be subtle, appreciating his outward serenity. Although he looked completely at ease, there was always something going on in his mind, and she never knew what any of it was. Before her own mind had the chance to begin wandering, she hummed, offering Pestilence and War a tired smile, "I'm gonna take this one to her room and get her situated, then I think I might call it a day... Goodnight, you two."

She paused, hesitating a moment, "And goodnight to you too, Death... I hope you sleep well tonight." Death opened his eyes, his sockets still hooded as he looked up at her and smiled faintly, "Thanks for that... Goodnight, Connie."

[blackssuunn-mandoandyodito]

Tabaco y Brea

A Javier Peña fanfic

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Warnings: slight angst, slight fluff, sweating?, swearing, running?, somebody needs to explain this to me please.

Word count: 2.5 k

A/N: alright friends, this is the first chapter of a series I’m working on. As you can see, it’s called Tabaco y Brea. If you have any questions, hit me up. I hope you like this, enjoy!

Chapter 1: Stuffy basement

Bogotá was a sight that you had yet to stop being amazed at. Walking through its streets for the first time all those months ago almost brought tears to your eyes. Growing up in the United States and thinking that you may never get out of there gave you little to no reference in this country's culture, although your father being Mexican helped you master Spanish and he showed your way to dance. Early 1981 was not a great year to be in Colombia, but you were here as a DEA agent after all, not as a tourist. You could feel things getting bigger, and you weren't sure how you'll be able to handle it.

As you kept walking, you asked yourself the same question of your everyday life. Why the fuck did you choose to live so far away from the Embassy? 

(You knew the answer, but it didn’t make mornings easier)

The heat made your clothes cling to you with sweat, your hair even in a ponytail was soaked and the headache was just getting stronger the more you walked through the avenue. 

And you were late, dammit!

Your heels could be heard as you started to run to catch the bus, gripping your purse as if life depended on it. With the amount of money they paid you, you could easily afford a car, but attracting that much attention wasn't a great idea. You still couldn't understand how the narcos hadn't managed to get your information. 

The bus was already at the bus stop when you turned the corner, and you didn't know if you could make it. 

"Ey! Ey! Esperen!" (Hey! Hey! Wait!) You started waving your hand towards it, seeing that the last person in line was hopping on. The driver, thankfully, saw you and waited. You started running faster and finally climbed the stairs. It was packed.

 Well, it seemed that you'd go standing. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You seriously didn't think you could get more soaked from the heat, sweat even more than you already were.

You were wrong. 

When you got to the Embassy, the entire back of your shirt was plastered to your body. Your thighs were starting to get grazed because of your skirt and your hair was all frizzy and probably resembled a nest of birds. 

You took a deep breath, tried to fix your hair a little bit, and pushed the door. Nobody even glanced at you, and you were glad. If anybody dared to even look at you funny, you were going to lose it.

"Ey compañera. Mala mañana?" (Hey partner. Bad morning?)

Oh, just what you needed.

"¿Qué quieres Peña?" (What do you want Peña?) you rolled your eyes at him. He didn't look much better than you anyway. His pink shirt was sticking to his chest, even though he had several buttons open, letting you see his wet neck. His face was sweaty too, with rosy cheeks and his hair sticking to his forehead. 

You arched your eyebrow. "No tienes mucho mejor aspecto que yo Javier" (You don’t look much better than I do Javier)

He gave a soft laugh, the idiot. You weren't in the best of moods to handle him, so you turned around and walked to your desk, then sat down with a grump.

"Vamos nena, alégrate un poco" (Come on baby, lighten up a little) you glared at him and started reading through the papers you had to check today. It was usually yours and Javier's, that asshole didn't do any of his own paperwork and you were stuck doing both almost all the time. Carina had given you a weird stare the first time you were ranting about it to her, but you were sure you didn't want to know what she was thinking. It was nothing that you didn't know anyways.

Once he realized you were definitely not in the mood for your usual banter, he stopped and sat down in his desk,at the right from yours. Silence (or as much silence as an office can have) settled and the sounds of sheets of paper turning and Javi working with his typewriter slowly calmed you and helped you concentrate with what you were reading. The fan that barely provided you of fresh air at least served as background noise for the amount of stuff that your mind was processing, and it even cooled you down a little bit. The headache was gone and so was the bad mood. After some time had passed and you weren't sweating as much as before, you asked yourself what on Earth was Javi doing if you had his paperwork at your desk.

"Hey Javi, what are you doing? At least have the decency to offer help!" you said as he turned to look at you. He smiled, noticing your mood improvement. Pulling his chair with him, he crossed the little space between your desks and opened the folder that he had been looking at.

"There's the Bera I know" You tried to hide a smile at the nickname. "I got some intel that could help us with this bullshit"

His voice, all business know, gave you a sense of peace. Even if he was a little shit most of the time, he was the only one who had been with you since you arrived back in 1979. He didn't have much more experience than you back then, had only been in Colombia for a couple of months himself, but he knew his way around better than you. He taught you the things you didn't know, and if neither of you did then you figured them out together. 

"And what is that intel, agent Peña?" you teased him. You weren't oblivious to his ways of fishing out info, of course. He smacked you lightly in the arm and showed you the papers.

"A cottage on the outside of Cali seems to be a type of safehouse for Escobar's merca," he says while pointing at the pictures that were inside the folder "if this is true, we need to do a raid soon, but we have to make sure the intel is right before we take that risk"

The cottage was small, nobody would pay attention to it if they were walking past. It looked like an abandoned house, and you knew that was exactly what Escobar's men were hoping for. Although you were surprised they were stupid enough to have something even remotely close to a city, that didn't sound right.

You nod, "so that means...?"

He looks at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"That means we need to stay for a few days in Cali, nena"

You have to grip your chair to physically restrain yourself from jumping of happiness. You loved Cali, the very few occasions you had free time you took a bus there (9 hours and all) and spent the nights in the dancing clubs. Cali gave you a sense of love and alleviated the homesick feeling that had been nagging you for years. It reminded you of your father even if this wasn't his country. 

"Are you serious? Don't play with me Javi" he nodded.

"You know I don't play with this shit", his voice sounded serious, almost offended.

He knew how much you enjoyed being there, but you also knew he took his work very seriously. In both cases, you doubted he would joke about something like that, but it was almost too good to be true to believe it that easily.

You started to plan things in your head. Where would you stay? Close to the cottage? Close to downtown Cali? Would you have any free time to enjoy the pleasures of Cali nights? You hoped so because if not you were going to explode.

"So when do we leave then?" you look him in the eyes, a grin spread big on your face. 

"It depends", your smile fell. "We have to welcome the new gringo, remember?"

Ugh, yes. You forgot about that. 

"So when does he arrive?" 

Javi shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it will be this or the next week."

You weren't sure if bringing someone else to this shitshow was a good idea. Enough lives have been lost to this war, and you didn't see the point of putting at risk another one.

"Will we take him with us?"

 “He's not very good with Spanish"

Your smile returned, this time for entirely different reasons. "So we're gonna have some fun with him?"

Javi looked at you, amusement in his eyes. He shook his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea muñeca, he's coming with his wife" (doll)

You got the message, even if he didn't say it out loud. He has a family, something to lose. You don't, not really. Besides your own lives, that is. If you want to play Russian roulette with them, it's your problem. But the new guy had someone to come back to.

So, helping the gringo it was.

"What's his name again?" you ask. You had read about him a few weeks back when they told you he was coming. But you didn't even remember he was coming, much less were you going to remember his name.

"Steve Murphy" Oh yeah, it sounded familiar now. "He did his training directly at Quantico, so he must be good"

That you remembered. He was one of those guys who spent the 18 weeks (although you knew they were only 13 if you did it there) of DEA training in Quantico, inside the U.S. Marine Corps Base and next to the FBI academy. They weren't common here, you and Javi had done it elsewhere. 

"So after we pick him up, we plan this shit out, right?"

Javi nodded. "I hope so"

He went back to his desk and you kept going through the paperwork. It was not an easy task, but that one time you made Javier do his own, he had taken so much time to do it that you passed the deadline and the boss ripped you both a new one. After that, you did a silent agreement where you did it all, Javier providing all info necessary and taking the blame if anything was wrong, even if it didn't happen frequently. He'd bring you Colombian coffee when the weather wasn't as hot as now, he knew you didn't like the one at the office and thought it "tasted like dirt", he would listen to you rant about certain reports and say whatever he thought you needed to hear in those moments.

You enjoyed spending your time with him, even if most of it you were arguing about something. 

The day passed rather quickly, with so much to do you didn't even have time to glance at your watch or even the clock hanging in the opposite wall.

Soon, it was time to leave again, but you hadn't finished your work and it was due to a couple of days. You hated doing things just before delivery time, so you decided you were going to stay and work some more. It wasn't like someone was waiting for you anyways.

Half of the work was done, so you weren't going to stay much. Just enough so you could go back and finish tomorrow.

"Ey compañera, hora de irnos" (Hey partner, time to go) Javier sounded tired, and you figured trying to find leads and speaking all day with your superiors was exhausting too. You hated doing the calls, so he took that one for both of you. 

"No me iré Javi, debo avanzar un poco con esto"  (I won’t leave Javi, I need to get ahead with this) He frowned at you, with his beige jacket already in his hands. You figured you looked tired too, all day reading was doing an impact in your eyes.

"What do you mean you're not leaving? You just spent 12 hours doing paperwork, you need to rest"

You sighed. He was right, you knew that, but you wouldn't be able to finish if you didn't stay. 

Seeing he wasn't going to get an answer because you were stubborn and ignored him if you had already made a decision, he hung up his jacket again and pulled his chair close to your desk. Then, glaring at you, he sat down and propped his elbows in the table, letting his face fall between his hands.

A few minutes passed, and you were starting to get uneasy under the power of his stare.

"Javi? What are you doing?"

He didn't answer.

"What?" you asked, defensively. "Do I have something on my face?" 

He shook his head, still not saying anything. 

"Javier!"

He started laughing at your bothered yell, finally releasing you from the pinned look he was giving you. You let out a frustrated sigh, understanding what were his intentions.

"You're gonna glare me into leaving, aren't you?"

His nod was your only answer, accompanied by a grin spread across his face.

The thing about your relationship was that even if you fought almost every day for the stupidest things, he took care of you. He made sure you got rest, ate decent food, got home safe. He protected you in the raids, even if you weren't his main focus. And you did your best to take care of him too, but he wouldn't let you.

At least not like you wanted. 

He would go almost every weekend to search for the love you were so willing to provide for him in other women, in his so-called informants. And it hurt you, more than anything else. 

You smiled at him.

"Let's go"

He smiled too, standing up. You saved your files in one of the drawers, took your coat, and rounded your desk.

Out of the office, everything was silent. The sun had already set, leaving you at the darkness of the night. You checked your watch. It was...11 PM already, damn. You didn't know it was that late.

"I'll drop you off at your home", his voice was soft.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Everything with Javi was difficult at night. You were looser because of the tiredness, fed up with everything. You wished to be between his arms, it was the only thing you asked for. But you knew you couldn't.

Both of you climbed into his Jeep, and he drove off to your apartment. 

"Why did you choose to live far from the Embassy anyways?"

He had asked the same question a thousand times before, and it was always the same answer. He never looked at you when he said it, his attention straight out the windshield. You couldn't figure out why he kept doing it, no matter how much you tried, no matter how much time you spent thinking about it.

"I wanted to get to know Colombia, not just the stuffy low-rise bunker in the basement of the U.S. embassy."

Once you got to the apartment complex, he parked his car and stretched to open your door. 

"Good night compañera" (partner)

You smiled in response, took your purse and jumped out of the car. Feeling his stare boring into your back as you walked to the door, you got out your keys and turned around. 

Once you waved him goodbye, he bowed his head and turned on the engine leaving with a creak of tires.

"Good night Javi"

-

Tag list: @dynphomaniac

[nayutai]

Sleep Walker

⇢ Genre fluff (this nearly killed Jesus Christ fluff authors are powerful)

⇢ Pairing Jimin x OC

⇢ Word Count 4251

⇢ Summary Jimin finds himself wandering into a 24-hour coffee shop after his efforts to sleep have proved unsuccessful where he finds more than just the caffeine boost he needs to get through his day

⇢ Notes this goes out to my love bug @tae-tae-drives-me-kray​ 

Working the night shift at a 24-hour coffee shop makes for a very boring shift. Most of the customers clear out by the time that two o’clock rolls around and those who do pop in are on their way to their own early morning shifts and generally don’t stay long. They also don’t usually start arriving until at least 4:30. For Amira, this means that she can eat snacks and binge watch Supernatural until the day time people show up for the most part. At $11 an hour it’s a pretty cushy gig if you don’t mind the fucked up sleep schedule. 

The sound of the bell above the door tinkling loudly just before three sends Amira flying from her perch on a stool behind the counter. Whoever it is giggles melodically at the flurry of creative curses that come out of her mouth as she rises to your feet dramatically. She gives them a dirty look that softens at the way their eyes twinkle even in the low light of the cafe. 

“Are you okay?” At least they have the decency to ask about her well-being after nearly giving her a heart attack. The lower half of their face is covered in a mask and a baseball cap sits low on his head. If it weren’t for the fact that this person’s eyes look so friendly she’d be standing a lot closer to the silent alarm and the baseball bat that her manager allows her to store under the counter. 

“Just peachy for someone who was on the verge of death. What would you like to order?” He rattles off the name of some frappuccino thing with an assload of ingredients and Amira has the sudden urge to beat her head against the granite countertop. Being that she works night shift, most of her barista knowledge circled the memory drain a long time ago due to the fact that the most complicated thing the early morning demographic orders is flavored iced coffee. A walk in the park compared to the science experiments that the daytime crew is required to mix up throughout the day.

“I’m gonna keep it real with you, chief. I forgot how to make this but I don’t have the authorization to do refunds so if it’s bad you’re stuck with it.”

“At this point, it could be dishwater and I’d drink it as long as it’s got caffeine.” 

And yet he ordered one of the froo froo drinks Amira thinks to herself. Those drinks have the least amount of caffeine out of everything on the menu. He’ll be asleep before he even finishes his drink.

“Well if caffeine is what you need, this drink isn’t what you want. I’ve got just the thing though.” You put away the clear cup for the frappucino with his consent and reach for a regular coffee cup. “What’s your name? I know you’re the only one here but it’s against store policy for any cup to leave this hellhole without a name on it.” He seems to panic at the thought of giving up his name, a wary look morphing his gaze. Her brows creases as she watches him contemplate how he wants to answer what she thinks is a very simple question.

“Jimin...” He says after a minute.

“Ha, that’s cool. There’s a guy in BTS with the same-“ Amira’s hand freezes halfway through writing his name as her drowsy brain starts connecting some very important dots. The news lady on channel six had said they’d be in town this weekend but never in a million years did she expect something like this to happen. She peeks at him from beneath her lashes. He looks ready to bolt out the door at the slightest provocation so she do her absolute best to remain calm for his sake. 

Alright, sis you can do this. Just stay cool, calm, and collected. Mama ain’t raise a loser you can do this.

Jimin visibly relaxes when Amira starts writing again and turns to start making his drink. It’s a special concoction she makes for her fellow graveyard peeps. It’s strong enough to knock a donkey on its ass which is why it’s such a hit. One of her regulars, a long haul trucker, tells Amira all the time that he doesn’t know how he’d make it through his long drives without the liquid defibrillator that he practically orders by the gallon. Definitely doesn’t seem safe but he’s got an incredible driving record and he always brings her a fistful of the soft peppermint candies she’s partial to. 

“Thank you for not freaking out. I’m not really supposed to be here.” Jimin mumbles as he accepts his drink. He loves interacting with fans but not at two a.m when he’s barely able to stand up from his lack of sleep. 

“I gathered as much. Not many global superstars stroll through here at this hour or at all really.” Amira give him a smile that she hopes puts him at ease and, judging by the way his lips turn up a bit, it may have worked. 

“Couldn’t sleep and we’ve got interviews all day so at this point I don’t have time to sleep hence the desperate need for caffeine.” He takes a cautious sip of the drink in his hand. She wasn’t kidding when she said that it would help. The caffeine hits his veins with the force of a speeding bullet train and Jimin already feels more alert just a few sips in.

Somehow, talking about his sleep troubles snowballs into a conversation about Disney movies and why Maleficent is the baddest bitch in the Disney realm when the blaring of his ringtone cuts her rant short. A heavy sigh escapes him at the interruption. He’d much rather listen to the adorable barista in front of him continue her impassioned argument, but duty calls. 

“Guess that’s my cue. Thank you for the drink and the company.”

“No problem! If that shit starts fucking with your heart rate though you did not get it here. I refuse to be attacked by your twitter army for giving you heart palpitations. I ain’t built for that type of guerilla warfare.” Jimin full on belly laughs, nearly dropping the rest of his drink in the process. He couldn’t get rid of the goofy smile on his face even if he wanted to. 

He grips the door handle in his hand but something is holding him back. Something feels unfinished and his feet refuse to move any further until that changes. Jimin turns around to see the source of his frozen feet standing behind the counter again, staring at his still form curiously. Before he can stop himself, Jimin crosses the short distance, snatching the pen stuck to the top of her apron to scribble his phone number on a nearby napkin. The gagging noises she makes when she realize what he’s just done make him feel justified in his rash decision. This time when he backs away, the smile on his face is one of mischief.

“Don’t let this be the last time I talk to you or I’ll never forgive you.” Jimin’s steps feel lighter as he treks back to the hotel to face the wrath of his manager. He hopes desperately that she texts him later. A frown replaces the grin behind his face mask at the prospect of his new crush not contacting him after tonight. His steps falter slightly as he processes the fact that he just met her not even a full hour ago and has already developed a full-fledged crush on her. Oh, Amira, so powerful and yet so unaware of it.

[Amira]: best friend

[Amira]: rise from the dead

[Amira]: I have a story to tell and before you even ask no it can’t wait until a decent hour

[Pomegranate]: if this doesn’t involve you meeting BTS or you hitting the lottery and paying off my crippling student loan debt I promise I don’t care 

[Amira]: ….sometimes I swear you’re psychic

[Pomegranate]: BITCH DID YOU HIT THE LOTTO????? 

[Pomegranate]: I BEEN YOUR BEST FRIEND FOR 13 YEARS DON’T FORGET ABOUT ME

[Amira]: shut up I didn’t hit the lottery but I did meet someone from BTS…

[Amira]: Jimin to be more specific

Incoming call from Pomegranate

“Well look what we have here. A traitor.” Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung’s dramatics but his best friend and bandmate is having none of it. “How dare you go traipsing off into the concrete jungle without me? We’re supposed to cause mayhem together and you left my ass in the middle of the night like I’m some side chick.”

“It’s really not this deep, Tae.”

“To you. Which is exactly why I snitched to Sejin.” Of course, Taehyung was the one to rat him out to their manager. He could be quite vengeful when he felt that he’d been wronged and obviously he took not being invited on his late night coffee hunt as a personal affront. The Capricorn energy coursing through his veins absolutely could not let that stand.

Jimin opens his mouth to respond when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He ignores it for the sake of pacifying Taehyung but when it vibrates twice more his curiosity gets the best of him. 

[Unknown]: uhhhh hi? 

[Unknown]: ew that was awkward as hell pls forgive me

[Unknown]: shit I didn’t even tell you who I am wow anyways this is the barista you tried to kill earlier also known as Amira

Jimin snorts at Amira’s messages which piques Taehyung’s interest in a major way. He can’t recall a time when his friend has ever looked so disgustingly happy over a text message from anybody. Just as he’s about to lean over to look at the screen, Jimin shoves the sleek iPhone right in his face. He’s babbling on and on about how funny and cute this Amira person is which only serves to further confuse Taehyung.

“I just want you to know that none of that made sense to me.”

Taehyung is almost sorry that he asked as Jimin launches into an impassioned retelling of the beautiful girl that made him a drink that is sure to keep him up until the end of time. A slow smile spreads across Taehyung’s face as he connects the dots. Jimin has a crush. A big one. He can’t wait to tell the other members that their precious Jiminie has finally found someone that meets his incredibly high standards. Out of all the idols back home, both male and female, that have practically thrown themselves at Jimin’s chelsea boots and it’s a random cafe employee that manages to make him totally enraptured.

“So let me get this straight,” Amira’s eyes follow her best friend Cameren as she paces back and forth across her living room. “It’s a regular degular night at work until some guy in a mask walks in and scares the shit outta you. Lo and behold that guy is fucking Park Jimin from BTS and you make him drink that god awful elixir of the damned you insist on serving to people and he actually liked it?”

“Not just that.” She fishes the napkin with Jimin’s number on it out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and carefully unfolds it so that Cameren can see the string of digits scratched into the napkin. The creative string of curses that fly out her mouth would make most people blush but after more than a decade of impassioned screaming, Amira doesn’t even flinch. Her eyes widen comically though when she notices Cameren reaching forward as if to snatch the napkin out of her hand. She thanks God for gifting her with reflexes quick enough to keep it out of Cameren’s reach.

“Bitch! Let me see it.”

“No! He gave me this because he obviously trusted me not to pass it around and I don’t plan to disappoint my future husband this early in the game.” She replies indignantly. 

“Look at you. All delusional and shit but whatever I respect it.” Cameren declares as she props herself on the coffee table in front of her best friend. “So, did you text him?”

“Of course I did. Who do you think I am?” Cameren opens her mouth to respond with what is no doubt going to be some witty quip about exactly who she thinks Amira is, but she’s interrupted by the tell-tale ping of her phone receiving a text message. The shocked look on Cameren’s face is perfectly mirrored on Amira’s as she slowly picks her phone up from the couch cushion she’d sat it on. 

[Kristoff Hater]: you’re too adorable to be awkward

Amira sits frozen in place as she reads and rereads his message. There’s no way he just said that. There is absolutely no way in hell that the Park Jimin himself just called her adorable. Have the heavens finally opened up? Did God decide that today is the day that she secures the biggest win of all? She’s in such a state of shock that Amira doesn’t even notice Cameren trying to get her attention until she starts physically shaking her shoulder. Amira’s voice box is still refusing to function so she simply hand over her phone to let Cameren see the message for herself. Her friend’s answering shriek perfectly voices Amira’s own feelings.

“He’s typing again!” Cameren thrusts the phone back into Amira’s hands just in time for another message to appear on the screen but she quickly close the conversation when Jimin starts typing once more. It takes longer than expected but the tell-tale ping from her phone makes Amira’s  heart skip a beat at what he could possibly have said this time. 

[Kristoff Hater]: speaking of you being adorable I need a contact picture so go ahead and hand one over and no one gets hurt 

[Kristoff Hater]: or don’t because you’re an autonomous human being and that’s totally up to you but I would really appreciate a picture of your face because I think you’re you’re cute and wow I’m rambling over text which is super embarrassing so I’m going to stop typing now byeeeee

This time, Amira is the one screaming.

“It’s official. You scared her away.” Taehyung claps Jimin on the back from his spot behind him in the van. Jimin continues to stare dejectedly at the stagnant conversation with his mystery woman. It’s been hours since he’d went out on a limb and asked her for a picture with not even a hint of a response. He’d originally thought that he’d eventually get over it and go back to normal but now he’s not so sure.

“Leave him be, Tae.” Namjoon pipes up from Jimin’s left. “It’s important to fully feel and process your emotions no matter how depressing they are.”

“Oh, so now the wannabe philosopher is going to preach to me?” 

“It was probably too good to be true any-she texted me back!” 

[Coffee Almost Bae]: I’m so sorry 😭

[Coffee Almost Bae]: In the interest of total transparency I had a meltdown because you called me cute and I’ve spent the last fourteen hours trying to psych myself up to respond 

Jimin nearly melts into puddle of feelings right where he sits. This girl is entirely too cute for her own good and she doesn’t even realize it. His fingers start flying in response, but his frantic typing is interrupted by another message.

[Coffee Almost Bae]: I believe you asked for this {image attached}

He’d thought that Amira was cute when he’d first met her at the coffee shop but seeing her in this picture is making his heart race. She’s clearly at dinner with friends judging from the crowded table full of food behind her. He’s incredibly appreciative of the way her jeans snugly hug the hourglass frame that her work uniform hides. His eyes are then drawn upwards to her face and he finds himself getting lost in the sheer brilliance of her smile. Eyes bright with a playful energy. Jimin is sure he’s never seen anyone more captivating.

“Yeah I’m definitely in love.” He proudly shows off Amira’s picture to the rest of the group, relishing in the comments about how pretty she are. Jimin chooses to ignore Yoongi’s comment about how he wasn’t sure that she actually existed until he saw the picture. His heart flutters in his chest as he stares fondly at the picture on his screen. He’s so caught up in her beauty that he forgets that you have to actually reply to the text messages in order to keep a conversation going. Until his phone vibrates in his hand.

[Coffee Almost Bae]: OH MY GOD YOU THINK I’M UGLY DON’T YOU I KNEW THIS WAS A MISTAKE I HATE IT HERE 

Jimin’s eyes go wide as he realizes the unforeseen consequence that his awestruck staring has resulted in. The concerned questions from the other members roll off his back as he tries to fix the mess he made. The two extra concert tickets that he’d been holding for two of his friends suddenly come to mind. Frustrated with the way he keeps misspelling words in his haste, Jimin throws caution to the wind and hits the call button. He doesn’t know why he’s so desperate to fix this, especially since he just met this girl less than forty eight hours ago but he can’t deny the nerves coursing through him as he waits for Amira to answer the phone.

“Cameren, he thinks I’m ugly. I just know he does.” Amira whines and it’s nearly Cameren’s breaking point. She sighs frustratedly over the phone as she does her best not to yell at Amira for overthinking and sending herself into a panic. 

“This man saw you in an unforgiving barista uniform, bare-faced, at three in the morning and still somehow thought you were cute.” Cameren can hear Amira inhale to interrupt her but she powers through, giving her no option but to listen. “If he saw you looking like that then there’s now way he thought the picture you sent him was ugly so stop overreacting. He’s a fucking international superstar someone probably stopped him for an autograph or something. Or maybe he thinks you’re insane for losing your shit because he took more than five minutes to respond.”

On a more rational level, Amira knows that Cameren is right, but it’s not every day that a girl actually gets to live out their fantasy like this. So naturally, she’s insecure and full of nervous energy that is near impossible to get rid of. What if his sleep deprivation made him delirious? What if fully awake Jimin thinks he made a mistake? Cameren is still ranting when Amira’s phone beeps with another phone call. She pull the device away from her ear to see who it is and nearly choke on her own spit.

“He’s calling me! I gotta go.” She ends the call with Cameren and answer Jimin’s before her overactive nerves can convince her not to. The second Amira accepts the call, all that can be heard is Jimin apologizing profusely. Somewhere in there he mentions something about concert tickets and soundcheck and her brain decides to finally kick in to get some clarification.

When he finally starts speaking slow enough for her to understand him, Amira is stunned even further into silence. Front row tickets to their next concert with a primo soundcheck position? Yeah, there’s no way she could pass that up, but there is one issue. Their next concert is in Toronto. As if he can sense what she’s thinking, Jimin immediately offers to fly Amira and whoever she wants to bring with her to Toronto. The sound of raucous laughter in the background drowns out his next sentence, so she can only assume the rest of the group is giving him shit for that.

“I can’t let you do that, Jimin.” Amira already knows that Cameren is going to kill her for this when she fills her in later, but she doesn’t want him to feel like she’s using him for free stuff. He tries his absolute best to change her mind but Amira doesn’t let up. 

“At least promise me that last night won’t be the last time I see you.”

“I promise. Now go to sleep before I tell army you’re neglecting yourself because I can hear the exhaustion all in your voice.” Jimin laughs at her playful threat which makes her heart swell with pride at being the one to make him laugh like that. After being a fan for so long, Amira can perfectly picture the adorable way his eyes have probably scrunched closed as he laughs with his whole body. The reluctantly bid each other goodbye after Jimin makes her promise once more that they’ll meet again.

Months have passed since the day Jimin turned Amira’s life into a wattpad fanfiction and since then life has changed in numerous ways for both of them. Amira has gotten a new job. A new dog. A new house. Meanwhile, BTS has hopped from country to country playing to sold out stadiums. Broken fistfuls of records that established western acts admittedly balk at. And yet, despite all these changes, Jimin and Amira’s presence in each other’s lives has remained constant. Whether it be a funny meme he saw online, a FaceTime call at an indecent hour because time zones are weird, or even a postcard from whatever part of the globe BTS has ended up in. Despite their best efforts though, their late night conversation over coffee did not get the follow up that they’d promised to have. 

Amira is on her way back to work after meeting up with Cameren for lunch when she gets a text from Jimin. It’s a picture of what looks like a schedule for the upcoming month and it looks pretty empty save for a flight to LA on the fifth. The image is accompanied with several eye emojis and Amira connects the dots immediately. The second she returns to the office, she submits a request for two weeks of leave time. After snapping a picture of her screen, her fingers fly across the screen with a quick message to Jimin.

Amira hasn’t seen Jimin in person since that night at the coffee shop and that thought keeps her up at night as the days fly by. No matter how much careful planning they put in to try and see each other something always seemed to come up and foil whatever plans the two of them had concocted, but this time feels different. Like everything might actually fall perfectly into place. That brings up the question about how Amira is going to handle being face to face with Jimin again. All of his flirting and little pet names have been hard to handle over text but to be in the same room with him and keep her cool is going to be a new kind of challenge. He’s been very direct about what his feelings are and though she feels the same, Amira has been hesitant to reciprocate his romantic sentiments in fear that what she feels is rooted in her love for BTS as a fan. Cameren has been Amira’s saving grace with her pep talks but nothing could ever truly prepare her for the force of nature that is Park Jimin spending two uninterrupted weeks in her house. 

Jimin arrives in a whirlwind of designer luggage that he quickly tosses aside in favor of peppering kisses all over Amira’s face while she playfully attempts to fight him off. Her terrier Luna runs circles around the both of them in a frenzy at having a new friend to play with her. Amira’s heart is beating erratically in her chest as Jimin switches tactics, choosing to simply hold her close to him.

“Hello to you too, Ji-” His lips pressing against her own stops Amira’s sentence in its tracks. 

She’s always admired how soft his lips looked but to find out just how soft they actually are sends a rush of endorphins coursing through her. All of the qualms she’d had about falling for him melt away like ice cream in the summer sun. Her insecurities suddenly seem so significant as his lips mold against her own like they were meant to be there. A deep groan rattles Jimin’s chest when she gets over her initial shock and reciprocates. He tastes of strawberries and the faintest hint of mint when he explores her mouth with his expert tongue. Amira decides then and there that she would gladly die of suffocation if it meant she could kiss Jimin till she croaked.

They could’ve remained locked together for an indefinite amount of time if not for Luna tugging on Jimin’s pant leg with her teeth, demanding her fair share of his attention. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop the energetic fur ball into his arms, scratching behind one of her ears as Luna practically vibrates in his arms.

“I think this is the part where I tell you I’m in love with you and want to be your boyfriend.” He lifts Luna next to his face and Amira knows she’s in trouble. “Don’t you want to wake up to us every morning? At least for the next two weeks?”

“Kiss me again and you’ve got a deal, boyfriend.” 

[jiminsfault]

Clumsy Christmas | knj

— pairing: idol!Namjoon x reader

— genre: fluff

— word count: 2.1k

— warnings: fluffy fluff, a lot of love, established relationship, boyfriend!Namjoon, clumsy and pouty Joonie, slightly jealous Namjoon but in an adorable way, teasing, Namjoon is size-bullying you

— summary: when Namjoon decided to help with the decorations, something was bound to break. This year it had to be his present.

— A/N: I really wanted to post a fic for a special accasion since I havent been able to post a birthday fic for any of the boys yet! ugh :( so heres a christmas fic!! I hope you like it, come tell me if you do :~)

Thank you @maptoyoongi​ once again for the beautiful banner! uwu

masterlist

Christmas shopping was the hardest and least joyful part of the holiday season, your money practically flying out of your pockets, not knowing if the presents will bring smiles upon your loved one’s faces. 

With the boys being busy, you hadn’t had the chance to catch all of them to ask for their christmas wishes, so you had to improvise. 

Grabbing funny sweaters for Seokjin and Yoongi, a tie with a cute print plus a matching headband with bells on it for Taehyung and a plush bunny for Jungkook was your first instinct. Then you realized, Yoongi would probably despise you for buying you a sweater with a reindeer on it, Jungkook is a grown man and has made that clear multiple times and Taehyung doesn’t like wearing ties that don’t match his aesthetic. 

So besides the present for the oldest, who you know will love the silly present, you still had nothing. Putting the things back where they belonged, you left the sparkly store. The mall was shining, full of decorations. Very warm, comfortable almost. Also very loud and full, but still pretty. 

What even would you get Hoseok? He told you multiple times whenever you even just mentioned christmas, that he wouldn’t need anything from you. 

“Your presence is a blessing on it’s own, why would I need anything else?” He charmed with a big smile. Namjoon, slumping next to you, grumbled and reached his foot to kick his brother. “Leave my girlfriend alone! Asshole..” he pouted.

Smiling at the memory of the conversation, you almost ran into a woman. She stood in front of a store with her mouth open in awe, eyes big and hastily reaching for and tugging on the sleeve of the man’s jacket, who was standing next to her. 

“Look! It’s so pretty!” She squealed. Your interest had been piqued and you risked a glance toward the window full of decor. It was pretty indeed. 

On show were to plastic hands holding, each wrist decorated with matching bracelets. Looking for the price tag, you walked a little closer. The couple had left, the woman being dragged off by her boyfriend. And as you found the price tag, you probably knew why he dragged her off. 

It was expensive. Much more than you were willing to pay for all of the gifts, much less just for one. But it just fit. Namjoon always wanted to show you off but never found a way around the public. 

Being his girlfriend wasn’t linked to posting cute selfies and wearing partner outfits. He wanted to try rings, but fans would notice how he would wear a band on his finger. At least a partner ring looks much more official than all the other rings he was always wearing. Bracelets this thin and subtle would never be noticed by any fans. 

Happy with your mind settled, you walk into the store to get the jewelry, getting them packed into a box with a band to hang it up.

“Now only five more! What will I get for the rest of them?..” you mumble to yourself, looking around the display windows to find the right gifts for each of the boys. 

After a successful day full of christmas shopping, preparing cookie dough and listening to festive songs, you decided to take out the decorations to hang on the tree. 

It was pretty big, filling out all the space in the boy’s living room. Because of its size and weight Jungkook had to get help from both Jin and Taehyung, the three of them carried it inside and made sure that the trunk was tight in the clasp of the christmas tree stand. 

When they were busy installing it, Jin suddenly let go and screamed “TIMBER!!” in a high pitch, making Taehyung retreat because of the shock. The joke almost resulted in the tree actually falling because Jungkook couldn’t hold it up on his own. Luckily Taehyung’s reflexes were fast enough in order for him to grab it just in time.

Laughing because of all the chaos, you threw a thumbs up in Jin’s direction, grinning at his mischief. They left shortly after to let you do your decorating, you stressed that you wanted to do it completely on your own and they had practice to attend anyway. 

A mug of hot chocolate later and about an hour of decorating, you were stretching up to reach the top of the tree. When you weren’t succeeding you let out a little noise of frustration. You’re really not that small, you swear. A regular size, some might say. But you still couldn’t reach where you wanted to hang one of the prettiest christmas balls. 

“Can I help you, dwarf?” Your boyfriend suddenly appeared from behind you. You let out a surprised yelp, almost dropping the decoration in you hand. He laughed, holding your shoulders in case you fell over. 

“Woah! Calm down, little horse.” He thought he was so funny. “Let me do this, yeah?” He said with his signature dimpled smile. 

“Why did nobody tell me that the christmas tree was already standing up? I would’ve helped.” Namjoon almost pouted. Even though he had a group to lead, songs to write and meetings to attend, he still insisted on doing even more things in this house. 

Grabbing the rest of the fairy lights, lametta and some bells, he smiled at you and started decorating the tree. Namjoon was more than tall enough to reach all of the tree without poking his face. 

It went good for a long while. Until…

Namjoons bad luck and clumsy feet had to chime in of course, making him lose his balance when he reached to put the big star on top of the tip. Wobbling around for a bit, he managed to hold himself up with a little help of you at his waist and he grabbed the tree to make sure it doesn’t fall over from his swinging. 

With the movement he managed to push off the little blue box you hid inside of the branches. It contained the christmas present you bought for him and with shock in your eyes you had to witness it drop onto the floor. 

Being the curious person that Namjoon just was, he couldn’t ignore the little box. Bending down, he picked it up. Still like a statue you stand next to him, mouth open and hand reaching out to hold him back by his sweater. 

“Whats this?” He asked, smiling at you with a glint in his sharp eyes. “A present? Perhaps for me?” His smile grew and his dimples deepened. 

“N-no, it’s… it’s for Hobi! Don’t open it, you never keep your mouth shut about secrets!” You exclaim, rushing to take the box out of his hand, but he grasped it and lifted his arm. With your short legs, not even tippy toes will help you get the present back. 

“I wonder what it could be?” He said, rising his voice in question. Laying his free hand on his chin, he acted like he was thinking hard. “Maybe a watch? Or do you want to propose to me?” He screeched, eyes big and a child like expression on his face. 

“No, Namjoon! As I said, it’s a present for Hobi, not you.” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest, pout present. 

He grinned, “hehe, sure! I’m sure you love Hobi so much more than me, you just had to buy him the watch I wanted, right babe?” So he really insisted in this, huh? Why not play along for a little, then.

“Right! Hoseok mentioned that he wanted the same watch, I only had money for one of them. Since you’re happy with just kisses, I decided to give it to him.” His face falls, believing your teasing. 

“Wait, you’re not serious, right? The watch is for me, babe!” He whined. Taking his arm out of the air, he looked at the box droopy and disappointed. Your heart couldn’t take it, his puffy lips pouting and his shiny eyes looking down at the box in his hands. 

You cooed, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “No, baby, don’t be sad. It’s not for Hobi. But it isn’t the watch either..” trailing off, you lay your hands on his cheek to lift his face so that he looked at you. 

“Oh I don’t care if it’s the watch or something else! As long as it’s for me,” Namjoon grinned and looked at the box again. “Soo..” he looked at you with big eyes.” 

Already sensing that he still wanted to find out what exactly was inside, you grabbed the square from his hands as long as he had a loose old on it. He gasped, feeling betrayed.

“Traitor! Why won’t you let me have it!” He pouted once again, making you smile at his silly behavior. “Just a peek! Please, Y/N!” Shaking your head, you put the box in its place on the tree branch again. 

“Joonie you have to promise that you won’t look at it before christmas. I really want it to be a surprise.” You scolded. Breathing out a heavy exhale, he nodded. 

“Alright, babe. If it’s that precious to you, I guess I’ll hold out.” Smiling, you grab his cheeks and give him a big smooch when he got the note to bow down. “Let’s finish up this tree, yeah?” He patted your head and turned to the christmas balls.

Everyone was sat comfortably in the living room, candles and christmas lights were on, the tv displayed a fireplace and christmas music was playing softly in the background.

All of the members were scattered around the room, some of them lounging on the couches and some on the floor, girlfriends next to a few of them. You were cuddling yourself into Namjoons chest on one of the soft couches.

Jungkook as the youngest one started with sharing his gifts to everyone, busy rustling from the wrapping papers. 

Each after the other started giving out presents and when it was your turn, you excitedly bounced on your feet as you looked at all the happy faces unpacking their goods. 

You kept Namjoons present for last, wanting to completely watch his expressions when he finally got to see what you got for him. 

Sitting next to him, you grinned when he opened the blue box. 

But your happy smile fell off your face as soon as you saw the bracelet. When it fell from the tree it not only was moved around in the box messily, it was also destroyed. 

Without being able to hold yourself back you let tears roll down your cheeks. Sniffing, you accused Namjoon, “You broke it! You broke the present and now I need to get something new!” 

You were about to throw a fit, Namjoon watching you with big eyes as he tried to see why you were so upset. 

“Baby, calm down.. look,” he took your face in his hands, putting the box next to him on the couch. “It’s not broken..”

You let him wipe away the few tears that fell and looked at him confused. “What do you mean, of course it is. Look at it.” You took the bracelet out of the box and showed it to him. When he laughed at you, you furrowed your brows. 

“Baby, it’s just the clip to close it. It wasn’t closed in the box.” Showing you the small clasp and smiling big when your face lit up. 

“Oh! I’m glad…” everyone suddenly laughed at your confusion and you remembered that you just almost threw a fit in front of all of your friends. Blush creeping on your face, you used the opportunity to stand up. “I’ll get something real quick, wait here” you advised Namjoon. 

Rushing to your shared bedroom, you searched your drawer and pink box, matching Namjoons own. 

Walking back you showed it off proudly and shoved it into your boyfriend’s face. “Look! Now we always have something to think of each other…” shyly you lifted it out of your own box and asked Namjoon to close it around your wrist. 

You held your arm next to his and awed at the matching jewelry. Clapping your hands happily, you reached in to kiss Namjoon and slung your arms around his neck. 

He was clearly happy with his gift and couldn’t take his eyes off of it for the rest of the evening. Every chance he got, Namjoon held your hand and traced over the bracelet with his thumb. 

He wore his biggest dimpled smile even while brushing his teeth and that night, as you crawled into your bed and cuddled yourself into the sheets and his arms, he kissed the top of your head and whispered softly, “this was the best Christmas ever, thank you so much, baby.”

[starstaiined]

Surprise! (Pt. 1)

SUMMARY: Don’t have the brainpower for a pretty blurb, but basically some cute lil fluff centering around the Queen’s first Christmas together (after doing the show for a year) and some secret santa shenanigans! Did half of the exchange now, the other half will be posted in the next few days. 

TW: None, really? Tis a fluffy fic my mates. But there is a bit at the end where they discuss the kids they had in their past lives and how much they miss them, so lil sad piece. 

TAGGING: no one this time i don’t think

Katherine Howard loved Christmas. Even back when the holidays had been rough, living with a dad with a hairpin temper and two older brothers determined to wreck her day, she’d wait eagerly all year for the time of year where she could shower them with affection and they would semi tolerate it. And she was beyond excited to spend this Christmas with the other queens, who didn’t mind her more affectionate ways. 

And the present! If there was one thing she prided herself on, it was her expert gift giving abilities. She’d barely been able to sleep through Christmas Eve, and at six sharp she’d rolled out of bed and carefully padded down to the kitchen. She had decided, in her sleepless haze, that she would make the other Queens a beautiful breakfast to celebrate the holidays, that they could eat before the present exchange. 

Of course, there was one problem with that idea: Kitty had the culinary expertise of a seven year old. Nevertheless she prepared for breakfast. She set up six plates on the table, and immediately set to work making a wreck of the kitchen... 

The other five queens, however, woke to the smoke alarm going off. They stumbled towards the kitchen in alarm, only to find Kat fanning the toaster and looking a little worse for wear. Flour and bits of eggshells clung to her hair, but her smile was undeniably wide as she saw them. “I made breakfast!” Kat hummed happily, gesturing towards the plates on the table proudly. The plates which consisted of: two Eggo waffles that were stiff and brown on the edges but still had frost glittering at their centers, a single cold pop-tart, and a couple forkfuls of rubbery looking eggs — flecked with pieces of eggshells. 

“What-” Anne mumbled, still addled with sleep, before Jane cut her off.

“-a kind thing to do, Kitty! Isn’t it great, girls?” Jane glared at the rest of the queens, who were quick to murmur in agreement and plaster on fake smiles while still eyeing the food warily. 

Aragon ruffled Kat’s hair affectionately. “Why don’t you go sort the presents into piles while I get some hot chocolate going?” And some coffee, she was going to need coffee to get through this. “And thank you for breakfast, Kat, it looks wonderful!” She could worry about the moral implications of lying later, right now she was more than content to enjoy the bright smile on Kat’s face. 

None of the queens were willing to risk hurting Kat’s feelings, so they all (valiantly) choked down their mess of a breakfast. The only one who managed not to gag at all was Cathy, who could eat just about anything with a straight face. (It was the sleep deprivation, it numbed the sense.) Finally, finally, they finished and filed into the living room. 

Kat was on the couch, her gift for her secret santa in front of her while she all but vibrated in place. Jane smiled, settling on the space next to her. Aragon settled down by the tree, Cathy on her left and Anna on her right. Anne sat across from them, her back pressed flat against the wall. Overall, they were in more or less of a circle. Anne, noticing Kitty all but vibrating, nodded to her younger. “I think Kit Kat should start this whole thing off.” 

The rest of the queens seemed fine with that. Kat all but launched herself off the couch, pushing her giant, neatly wrapped box over to Anna. 

Anna carefully peeled off the wrapping paper, being sure to go extra slow as she watched Kat nearly implode. Finally, she stopped teasing the girl and ripped into the present. She tore off the remaining wrapping paper, then opened the box. Inside...was a stack of sweaters. Anna laughed. “This your way of making up for the sweaters you’ve stolen, Kitty?” 

Kat smiled brightly. “No, these are too replenish your stock so I can steal more.” She was only half joking. Nonethless, the others laughed. But Kat was quick to point to the box. “There’s more in there, you’ve got to pull the sweaters out. And be careful!” 

Anna raised a brow, interested piqued, and gingerly pulled out a sweater. There was obviously something hidden in the folds, so she carefully reached inside and pulled out a bottle. She stared in shock at the clear bottle — her favorite brand of vodka — before laughing. She can hear poor Jane sputtering in the background. 

“Katherine! When—How?” Jane stumbled over her words, eyebrows disappearing into her hairline in confusion and concern. 

“I have my ways.” Kat’s lips were pulled into a half smirk, freckled nose scrunching as her eyes glittered in a way eerily similar to Anne’s. (In that moment, the family resemblance was damn near startling.) The others often forgot that Kat could be just as much of a delinquent as her older cousin—those doe eyes hid a penance for mischief. “It’s better not to ask.” 

Jane buried her head in her hands, trying to process what just happened, as Anna continued to open her present. Luckily, or unluckily depending on who you ask, there wasn’t anymore alcohol. There was, however, enough energy drinks to power a small city. Underneath the sweaters and forbidden drinks was a simple best friends matching necklace, clearly home made. One half of a heart hung on a red necklace, the other on a pink one. Anne’s lips quirked into a smile. “So, I can give this necklace to anyone I choose?” 

“Uh huh. Your choice. Totally. One hundred percent.” Kat answered, attempting to appear disinterested. Even so, the smallest twinge of hurt passed over her features. But it disappeared as soon as Anna fixed the other half of the necklace around her neck.

“I was just teasing you, Kat.” Anna said, pulling the younger girl into a half hug. “I love it, all of it. Thank you.” 

Kat beamed, and settled back on the couch. Almost instinctively, Jane held out an arm and Kat curled up to her side. 

Anne watched the scene unfold fondly, glad to see her baby cousin enjoying herself. Her musings, however, were cut short as Anna yelled her name. Anne turned in time to see a small wrapped box flying directly towards her face. She let out a yelp, sticking her hands up to block her face. The box hit the top of her head before bouncing to the floor, and although it didn’t hurt in the least Anne looked up fuming. “What the fuck, Anna?” Her swearing was lost amidst the laughing of the other queens, surprised to see the princess of pranks dethroned. Anne grumbled something under her breath, before unwrapping the small box that had hit her. She opened it and...it was empty? She blinked a few times, confused, before she noticed the scrap of paper. Pulling it out, she read the words in Anna’s chicken scratch writing. Cleaning closet. 

She stood up, walking over to the closet that only Jane really used. Opening it, she found at least ten medium sized, neatly wrapped boxes lining the shelves. Well, that was one way to keep her from going through the presents. She loaded up her arms, and Cathy walked over to help carry the ones that didn’t fit, As she settled back in her seat, she gave Anna a quizzical look. 

Anna just grinned. “Thought I should give your presents a bit more of a personal touch. You know, let them reflect you.” Anne just stared, not getting it, to which Anna sighed. “You know, since you spent so much time in the closet?” 

Jane choked on her hot chocolate, Kat nearly howled with laughter, Cathy buried her head in her hands to hide her grin, and even Aragon couldn’t help the tears of laughter building in her eyes. Anne made a noise of protest, but it died to second it reached her lips—after all no one appreciated a good closet joke more than Anne. She give the queens a couple seconds to settle down, Kitty was still giggling maniacally, before she opened her present. 

Much to the horror of the other queens, they were chock full of pranking material. Itching powder. Realistic looking fake bugs. Fake blood. When Anne pulled out the stinkbombs, Aragon sighed and shot Jane a distressed look. By the time Anne had opened nine of the ten packages, each worst than the last, the queens waited with baited breath for the last package. But when she did, they breathed a sigh of relief. Anne’s eyes gleamed. “Jelly beans!!” Before Anna could say anything, Anne shoved a handful in her mouth...to spit them back out immediately. She looked utterly distraught as dark eyes focused on Anna for an explanation. 

Anna chuckled nervously. “Those....weren’t meant for you to eat, Annie. They’re called beanboozled, they put in a bunch of gross flavors. Thought it’d be good prank material-”

“You ruined jellybeans.” Anne pouted, pushing the last box far away from her. “Jellybeans Anna! That’s sacrilegious.” 

“Oh, stop being so dramatic you big baby. Just give your gift.” Aragon said with a roll of her eyes. Anne glared at her, but nonetheless picked up her gift. She walked over the couch, while Kitty all but vibrated in place. And she handed Jane three boxes, stacked on top of each other and tied off with ribbon. “Start with the biggest box. Kitty helped me with that one.” 

She took it carefully, smiling up at Anne before she unwrapped....a book? Jane’s brow furrowed as she opened it...and found a page carefully decorated with stickers, glitter, and Anne’s loopy script next to a set of adorable candids. She flipped through each page, in shock at the obvious care placed in each page’s appearance. 

And the pictures, they were pictures she’d never seen before. Aragon, caught mid-laugh with her eyes sparkling like the sun. Cathy, illuminated by her computer, sleeping on the kitchen table. Anna scowling down at her video game console. There was even one of her and Kitty. Her arm was thrown around Kat’s shoulders, her eyes shining with love, while Kat looked up at her with a lopsided grin. They were snapshots of real life: like someone had stopped time and caught their honest reactions when they didn’t even notice. Jane’s eyes had teared up while she flipped through, not that she’d noticed. “Where did you get these pictures?” She asked, voice rough with emotion. 

Anne was avidly trying to avoid eye contact. She had never been the mushy type, and she could tell that Jane was on the verge of getting sentimental. “I took them.” Anne answered after a minute. “I like taking pictures when you guys aren’t paying attention. Sometimes you guys look really stupid, and it’s good blackmail material.” She was lying through her teeth, attempting to keep her image. 

Jane saw right through her, but she didn’t say that. Instead she composed herself and nodded. Her fingers traced the cover of the book, before she handed it to Kitty to hold while she opened her next gift. The second box was filled with various kinds of knick-knacks and sweets: aka Anne’s favorite way of expressing her love. It brought a smile to Jane’s face. But it was the last gift that pushed her over the edge. Anne fidgeted uncomfortably as Jane began to unwrap that last gift, all eyes on both of them. 

Inside the last box was a rather plain locket, and a piece of paper. 

Jane’s brow furrowed, and Anne began to explain. Her cheeks burned bright red, her eyes suspiciously bright. “It’s uh — there’s this — ” Anne tripped over her words, looking uncharacteristically on edge. Kitty edged her way over, tilting her head and taking Anne’s hand. The contact seemed to soothe her, and with a shaky exhale she tried again. “There’s a company that sells stars. Like, the stars in the sky. You can buy one, and name it, and then they send you this locket with a picture of your star, and that certificate.” 

“You named a star after me?” Jane asked in confusion, not understanding why Anne seemed so on edge by that. Until...she looked down at the certificate. 

Edward. 

That one word sucked all the air from her lungs. It was lifetimes ago, but the pain had never ebbed. It was a five hundred year old wound that hurt just as much as a five second old wound. Shaking hands opened the locket, and on one side was a picture of a singular star. On the other, Anne had slipped in a portrait of him. Her heart twisted in her chest, and a tear hit the paper. She carefully put the gifts to the side, pulling Anne into a tight hug. 

To her surprise, Anne squeezed back just as hard. They stayed locked in that embrace for a long time, the rest of the room utterly still. When they finally broke from their embrace, both of them were sniffling. It was then that Jane noticed the same locket around Anne’s neck. And it was then that she remembered. Elizabeth. 

As much as Anne hid behind the laughter and the antics and the carefree attitude, she carried around the same pain. It was easy to forget sometimes. Jane squeezed Anne’s hand. Her mouth said, “Thank you.” Her eyes said I understand, and I’m here. 

Anne gave a watery grin back. “Don’t get all sappy on me, Seymour.” She scoffed, but her red rimmed eyes said I know. The two shared a moment of understanding, and then Anne settled on the couch next to Kitty. Her younger cousin curled up to her side and held her hand, and Anne felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders. “Okay Jane, why don’t you give your secret santa their gift? Get the ball rolling again?” Anne said with a forced chuckle. 

[sayingthesamethings]

Magic Shop (Part 3)

Pairing: Poly!BTS x Witch!Fem!Reader

Summary: Underneath the concrete and pavement, between the towering buildings, Seoul is thrumming with magic. Too much magic. It’s become a hot spot for magical beings seeking to feed off of such intense energy. BTS is unaware of such dangers until they come across a witch trying to manage the mischief of other magical creatures while creating her own trouble.

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry that it took this long for part three! It’s much shorter than I would’ve liked for it to be, but I really struggled with this transition for some reason. Thank you for being so patient, and please enjoy this part!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

(Name) pinched the bridge of her nose and watched as the boys tried, multiple times, to open the door. Growing tired of their futile attempts, she sat on her cushioned stool to continue with making her concoction.

“I’m going to save you all some time and let you know that it won’t open,” she announced as she absentmindedly twirled her finger in the air to command the grinding stick to continue mixing the contents of the medicine bowl.

“(Name),” Namjoon warned. (Name) pursed her lips and continued to searched through her sealed vials full of different colored liquids. “(Name),” Namjoon called shortly.

Relenting, (Name) threw her hands up. “What?” she cried. Namjoon raised a brow before motioning to the door wordlessly. “I panicked, okay?”

“You panicked and locked us in the room with you,” Yoongi summarized.

(Name) shrugged. “And also created a temporary pocket dimension, but yeah. That sounds about right.” The members of BTS began to panic.

“Are you magic?” Hoseok asked in fear. (Name) ran a hand through her hair and roughly sighed.

“No, I’m not magic. I use magic. You would call me a witch,” she corrected.

Quietly, Jungkook commented, “But magic’s not real.”

A hot anger welled up in (Name)’s chest. The hackles on Jaewon’s back raised as he bared his small fangs. There was a sudden drop in temperature that the group of men couldn’t ignore. A few of the members were quick to catch on and roughly nudged the maknae from several different directions.

“Well, Jungkook. I can assure you that magic is very much real.” (Name) fell silent as she took a moment to recollect herself and take a few deep breaths.

Taehyung leaned over to whisper in their youngest boyfriend’s ear, “How else is she moving the stick, Kookie?” Jungkook shuffled awkwardly and looked to the ground.

“You can even ask Namjoon. He would know,” (Name) passively commented. The six men turned to their leader, who held his hands up in defense.

“How was I supposed to know?” (Name) rolled her eyes.

“How else would you be able to slip right by a crowd of fans without anyone stopping you?” she retorted as she grabbed the correct vial containing a silver liquid.

Jin slapped Namjoon’s arm and nagged, “I knew you were up to no good!” Jimin’s eyes darted between the eldest and the witch calmly mixing.

“Uh, Jin-hyung. I really don’t think that’s the problem right now,” Jimin said as he shuffled closer to Jin and Namjoon.

(Name) raised a brow. “What would be the problem then?” The room fell into a tense silence as she finished making her drink and poured the bowl into her mug. There was steam rising from the cup despite the fact that (Name) had not touched a heat source the whole time she was making her drink.

“Well, you kinda locked us in a room,” Hoseok offered hesitantly, still a bit on edge from being pulled into the room and the door slamming shut by an invisible force.

(Name) bashfully took a sip from her mug and replied, “Sorry. I didn’t want you guys running out yelling about how I’m a witch. That would be bad for our shop.” She pet Jaewon, still on edge, and sighed. “You have to at least let me explain.”

Jimin looked at (Name) through his bangs and quietly asked, “You won’t hurt us?” She nodded.

“I told Namjoon earlier. I can’t hurt you as long as he wears that ring,” she answered. With a shrug, she included, “Not that I hurt civilians in the first place.”

“Wait, you didn’t say that,” Namjoon interrupted. (Name) tilted her head to the side and hummed in contemplation.

She said, “Huh. Maybe I didn’t.” She shrugged halfheartedly and brought her mug to her lips. “Yeah, that ring you’re wearing is enchanted with a binding spell.” Not entirely caring about their reactions, she took a long sip.

Namjoon jumped and checked his hand. He didn’t remember slipping the ring back onto his finger.

Jin echoed, “A binding spell?” The female took a moment to swallow before answering.

“There are multiple variations of a binding spell,” she assured, as if that was supposed to make sense to the group of idols.

When (Name) showed no signs of explained further, Jin spoke up. “And that means?” (Name) set her mug down and allowed Jaewon to hop off her shoulders to curl up on the counter.

“The spell on Namjoon’s ring is a two-way spell,” (Name) began with small hand motions. “A binding spell that works two ways is primarily focused on the flow of magic from one individual to another.”

“So why is it called a binding spell?” Taehyung inquired.

(Name) responded, “Well, the original spell’s intent was close to slavery, but that's the one-way version of the spell. Scholars have only just recently drafted the two-way version in hopes to replace the misuse and abuse of the original spell. Nowadays, the original is only used for detaining.”

“That still doesn’t explain why it’s called that,” Taehyung huffed.

“Eh, there’s an argument that the spell hasn’t changed enough to call it original and warrant a new name,” (Name) answered.

Namjoon frowned. “What does all of this have to do with the day we met?”

“Because I gave you my ring, I was able to project my magic and create a basic illusion spell on you.” (Name) patiently waited for the information to soak in for the men by flipping through her spell book. “Jaewon, can you rewrite the page on tupple plants? I need to change the description.” She swirled the contents of her mug and commented, “Thank you, by the way, for letting me test the spell and ring on you. It’s hard to get someone to try stuff out for me.”

“You were testing a spell on him?” Yoongi scoffed in disbelief.

(Name) stared at the rapper in thought before saying, “Oh. Sorry. For you know, not asking.” Yoongi made a sour face.

“Do you ever ask someone before fucking with their lives?”

“Yoongi,” Jin warned.

Jungkook argued quietly, “Suga-hyung has a point, hyung.”

“That doesn’t mean he needs to swear!” Yoongi rolled his eyes at the eldest.

He said, “Who knows what she’s been doing the whole time Joon’s been wearing that damn ring?”

(Name) frowned, a little more that offended. “Namjoon, are you upset?” The others stopped arguing and looked to their leader, who was staring back at the witch with his lips pressed into a firm line and his brows deeply furrowed.

Was he upset?

Namjoon had to ask himself the question mentally. Trying to sort his emotions out, he identified his immense fear of the unknown factor surrounding (Name). She was a walking enigma. Even so, there was an undeniable interest for something he couldn’t quite place. Curiosity, even. Towards magic, perhaps?

But no, not anger. He couldn’t find any trace within himself.

As if she could sense this, (Name) grinned. She set her mug down and crossed her legs.

“I didn’t think how I got him out of the situation mattered,” she excused with a shrug. Jin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He agreed to the terms I set, and I worked my magic,” she stated with a pause after. Her lips twitched upwards. “Literally.”

Jin said, “While I appreciate getting Joon out of trouble, there is a problem with using magic on him.” (Name) rolled her eyes with a huff.

“Okay, so I see that there’s a ‘problem,’” she generalized while eyeing the on edge, younger men. “Well, this is awkward.” She pulled a clean medicine bowl in front of her and began tossing brightly colored leaves and odd shaped fruits in.

Taehyung looked between Yoongi and (Name) before hesitantly speaking. “So what happens now?” The witch hummed in contemplation without taking her eyes off of the bowl in front of her.

“Oh, that’s easy.” Placing everything down gently, (Name) stood up from her stool and brushed off her clothes as if she had been sitting there long enough for dust to collect. She cleared her throat unnecessarily and called, “Jaewon. A little help, please.”

The ferret opened a single eye to glower up at his owner. (Name) returned the narrow look to which the ferret huffed at and reluctantly rose from his resting position. Jaewon effortlessly leaped the distance from the counter top to (Name)’s shoulder, now appearing alert.

The leather bound book rose from the counter. (Name) levitated it in front of her, and began chanting.

To time alone are memories lost, Forget me not and pay the cost

The air began to physically shift and chill. As if the weather outside had suddenly changed, the sunlight streaming through the stained glass of the windows began to dim at an alarming rate. The wind originating from apparently nothing picked up to the point where the members of BTS had to shield themselves.

Forsake my being and all that it is, For I am a moment you shall not miss

At the center of the vortex, (Name) levitated a few inches from the ground. The gems of her necklaces and rings glowed eerily. A wave of dizziness enveloped the idols, and they were beginning to feel the room sway.

Their visions swam and became murky. Despite the wind kicking up around them, (Name)’s voice rang as clear as day. 

Time shall flow just as it has, And in time this too shall pass

“...oys? Boys!” their manager, Sejin, yelled. They jumped and glanced around wildly. The filming crew were close to packing up, and almost all of the makeup and design team had left.

“Oh,” Namjoon mumbled and rubbed at his eyes. “Manager-hyung, what’s wrong?”

The older male huffed and crossed his arms. “Were any of you paying attention to what I was saying?” Namjoon’s jaw dropped, and he looked to his boyfriends for assistance, but they were just as confused as he was. “I’ll take that as a no. We’re all done here. Take your drinks with you to the van,” he instructed as he adjusted the coat hanging over his arm.

The male idols had to shake off and blink away the dream like trance they found themselves in.

“We’ll be right there, hyung,” Jin, being one of the first to recover, said with a small smile. Sejin hummed with a nod before motioning for them to follow. The idols reluctantly did as they were told and scurried towards the entrance.

Namjoon stopped before the door and motioned for the others to stop as well. He turned towards the counter and bowed, to which the rest of the group followed.

“Thank you for your time,” he announced, and the others echoed.

(Name) smiled from where she was leaning on the counter and offered a flirty wave.

“We hope to see you again!” she cheered. The bell above the door chimed one last time before the shop’s lively atmosphere abruptly died. (Name)’s gaze never left the door, and a slow, methodical hum buzzed through the air.

Jaewon slowly crept out from his hiding place underneath the counter and curled up across (Name)’s shoulders. The ferret looked at the witch quizzically.

“I’m gonna miss them,” (Name) sighed wistfully. Jaewon narrowed his gaze. Catching her familiar’s lack of amusement, (Name) wholeheartedly laughed, even going as far as throwing her head back. “So what if I’ll see them soon?” she retorted before bringing her mug to her lips. Before drinking the rest of her concoction, she grinned wickedly.

“I can’t wait to play again.”

[clarasimone]

Iain Glen nailing Hamlet (1991)

In 1991, after winning the Evening Standard Film Award for Best Actor, Iain Glen gave his soulful all, not on the stage in London, no, not yet, though really he could have, but at the Old Vic in Bristol, donning the persona of the Dane, Hamlet. He won the Special Commendation Ian Charleson Award* for his performance and yet it appears we will never see but stills from this production as no video recording was made, not even by and for the company. The University of Bristol has the archives of the production: the playbook, the programme and black and white stills. The V&A archives have the administrative papers. In our day and age, this sad evanescent corporeal sate of affairs is unimaginable. The memory of the play, of this performance fading away? We rebel against the very thought. We brandish our cell phones and swear we shall unearth and pirate its memory, somehow, somewhere. Even if we have to hypnotize patrons or pull out the very hearts of those who saw Iain Glen on stage, those few, those happy few, to read into their very memory and pulsating membrane just how brilliant he was. Because he was, he was. That’s what they’ll all tell you... 

Below, those pics and testimonies....

*(The Charleson Awards were established in memory of Ian Charleson, who died at 40 from Aids while playing Hamlet at the National Theatre in 1989)

- Iain Glen is a rampaging prince, quixotic, technically sound, tense as a coiled spring, funny. ‘To be, or not to be’ results from throwing himself against the white walls, an air of trembling unpredictability is beautifully conveyed throughout. ‘Oh, what a rogue and peasants slave’ is blindingly powerful. My life is drawn in angrily modern post Gielgud Hamlets: David Warner, Nicol Williams, Visotsky, Jonathon Price. Iain Glen is equal to them. He keeps good company. THE OBSERVER, Michael Coveney

- Paul Unwin’s riveting production reminded me more strongly than any I have ever seen that the Danish Court is riddled with secrecy. Politics is a form of hide and seek: everyone stealthily watches everyone else. Iain Glen’s Hamlet is a melancholic in the clinical sense: his impeccable breeding and essential good nature keep in check what might be an approaching breakdown. His vitriolic humour acts as a safety valve for a nagging instability, his boyish charm is deployed to placate and deceive a hostile and watchful world. Glen brings out Hamlet’s fatal self absorption: the way he cannot help observing himself and putting a moral price tag on every action and failure. He is a doomed boy. And his chill but touching calm at the end is that of a man who has finally understood the secrets behind the closed doors. The Sunday Times, John Peter

- This is an excellent production of Hamlet from the Bristol Old Vic. The director Paul Unwin and his designer Bunnie Christie have set the play in turn of the century Europe. Elsinore is a palace of claustrophobically white walls and numerous doors. All this is handled with a light touch, without drawing attention away from the play. Our first encounter with Hamlet shows him bottled up with rage and grief. Glen gives a gripping performance. The self-dramatising side of the character is tapped to the full by this talented actor. The Spectator, Christopher Edwards

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The following though is my favorite review/article because it situates Iain Glen’s creation is time, in the spectrum of all renowned Hamlets.

How will Cumberbatch, TV’s Sherlock, solve the great mystery of Hamlet? by Michael Coveney - Aug 17, 2015

In 1987, three years before he died, the critic and venerable Shakespearean JC Trewin published a book of personal experience and reminiscence: Five and Eighty Hamlets. I’m thinking of supplying a second volume, under my own name, called Six and Fifty Hamlets, for that will be my total once Benedict Cumberbatch has opened at the Barbican.

There’s a JC and MC overlap of about 15 years: Trewin was a big fan of Derek Jacobi’s logical and graceful prince in 1977 and ended with less enthusiastic remarks about “the probing intelligence” of Michael Pennington in 1980 (both Jacobi and Pennington were 37 when they played the role; Cumberbatch is 39) and emotional pitch and distraction of Roger Rees in 1984 (post-Nickleby, Rees was 40, but an electric eel and ever-youthful).

I started as a reviewer in 1972 with three Hamlets on the trot: the outrageous Charles Marowitz collage, which treats Hamlet as a creep and Ophelia as a demented tart, and makes exemplary, equally unattractive polar opposites of Laertes and Fortinbras; a noble, stately Keith Michell (with a frantic Polonius by Ron Moody) at the Bankside Globe, Sam Wanamaker’s early draft of the Shakespearean replica; and a 90-minute gymnastic exercise performed by a cast of eight in identical chain mail and black breeches at the Arts Theatre.

This gives an idea of how alterable and adaptable Hamlet has been, and continues to be. There are contestable readings between the Folios, any number of possible cuts, and there is no end of choice in emphasis. Trewin once wrote a programme note for a student production directed by Jonathan Miller in which he said that the first scene on the battlements (“Who’s there?”) was the most exciting in world drama; the scene was cut.

And as Steven Berkoff pointed out in his appropriately immodestly titled book I Am Hamlet (1989), Hamlet doesn’t exist in the way Macbeth, or Coriolanus, exists; when you play Hamlet, he becomes you, not the other way round. Hamlet, said Hazlitt, is as real as our own thoughts.

Which is why my three favourite Hamlets are all so different from each other, and attractive because of the personality of the actor who’s provided the mould for the Hamlet jelly: my first, pre-critical-days Hamlet, David Warner (1965) at the Royal Shakespeare Company, was a lank and indolently charismatic student in a long red scarf, exact contemporary of David Halliwell’s Malcolm Scrawdyke, and two years before students were literally revolting in Paris and London; then Alan Cumming (1993) with English Touring Theatre, notably quick, mercurial and very funny, with a detachable doublet and hose, black Lycra pants and bovver boots, definitely (then) the glass of fashion, a graceful gender-bender like Brett Anderson of indie band Suede; and, at last, Michael Sheen (2011) at the Young Vic, a vivid and overreaching fantasist in a psychiatric institution (“Denmark’s a prison”), where every actor “plays” his part.

These three actors – Warner, Cumming, Sheen – occupy what might be termed the radical, alternative tradition of Hamlets, whereas the authoritative, graceful nobility of Jacobi belongs to the Forbes Robertson/John Gielgud line of high-ranking top drawer ‘star’ turns, a dying species and last represented, sourly but magnificently, by Ralph Fiennes (1995) in the gilded popular palace of the Hackney Empire. Fiennes, like Cumberbatch, has the sort of voice you might expect a non-radical, traditional Hamlet to possess.

But if you listen to Gielgud on tape, you soon realise he wasn’t ‘old school’ at all. He must have been as modern, at the time, as Noel Coward. Gielgud is never ‘intoned’ or overtly posh, he’s quicksilver, supple, intellectually alert. I saw him deliver the “Oh what a rogue and peasant slave” soliloquy on the night the National left the Old Vic (February 28, 1976); he had played the role more than 500 times, and not for 37 years, but it was as fresh, brilliant and compelling as if he had been making it up on the spot.

Ben Kingsley, too, in 1975, was a fiercely intelligent Royal Shakespeare Company Hamlet, and I saw much of that physical and mental power in David Tennant’s, also for the RSC in 2008, with an added pinch of mischief and irony. There’s another tradition, too, of angry Hamlets: Nicol Williamson in 1969, a scowling, ferocious demon; Jonathan Pryce at the Royal Court in 1980, possessed by the ghost of his father and spewing his lines, too, before finding Yorick’s skull in a cabinet of bones, an ossuary of Osrics; and a sourpuss Christopher Ecclestone (2002), spiritually constipated, moody as a moose with a migraine, at the West Yorkshire Playhouse.

One Hamlet who had a little of all these different attributes – funny, quixotic, powerful, unhappy, clever and genuinely heroic – was Iain Glen (1991) at the Bristol Old Vic, and I can imagine Cumberbatch developing along similar lines. He, like so many modern Hamlets, is pushing 40 – as was Jude Law (2009), hoary-voiced in the West End – yet when Trevor Nunn cast Ben Whishaw (2004) straight from RADA, aged 23, petulant and precocious, at the Old Vic, he looked like a 16-year-old, and too young for what he was saying. It’s like the reverse of King Lear, where you have to be younger to play older with any truth or vigour.

Michael Billington’s top Hamlet remains Michael Redgrave, aged 50, in 1958, as he recounts in his brilliant new book, The 101 Greatest Plays (seven of the 101 are by Shakespeare); Hamlet, he says, more than any other play, alters according to time as well as place.

So, Yuri Lyubimov’s great Cold War Hamlet, the prince played by the dissident poet Vladimir Visotsky, was primarily about surveillance, the action played on either side of an endlessly moving hessian and woollen wall. And in Belgrade in 1980, shortly after the death of Tito, the play became a statement of anxiety about the succession.

There’s a mystery to Hamlet that not even Sherlock Holmes could solve, though Cumberbatch will no doubt try his darndest – even if he finds his Watson at the Barbican (Leo Bill is playing Horatio) more of a hindrance than a help; there are, after all, more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in his friend’s philosophy.

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Oh! Did I say that we were never going to see Iain Glen in the skin of the great Dane? Tsk. How silly of me. Meet IG’s Hamlet in Tom Stoppard’s postmodern theatrical whimsy ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD, shot the year before the Bristol play.

Though almost surreal and most often funny as the film follows the Pulp Fiction-like misadventures of two forgettable Shakespearian characters, crossing paths with other more or less fortunate characters, their time with Hamlet makes us privy to the Dane as we never quite see him in the Bard’s play... but for one memorable scene,  in which Iain Glen absolutely nails it, emoting the famous “To be or not to be” which you see tortures his soul, brings tears to his eyes and contorts his mouth; the moment made all the more memorable by the fact that it is a silent scene. You never hear him utter the famous line, but you see the words leave his lips and feel them mark your soul.

I’m kinda telling myself that it’s 1991 and I’m sitting in the Old Vic, in Bristol, not London. Not yet.

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Moments of Happiness

Chapters 57 & 58 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) are up on AO3! Don’t be fooled, I took one long chapter and chopped it into two. Together they’re about ~10k words. 

In which Fenris and the crew pal around at the Winter Palace before the Exalted Council begins. Also known as the calm before the storm. 😭

Read on AO3 here. 

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Hawke shook out another pair of trousers and hung them in the finely-carved armoire. “…and that passage made me think of that time when I tried to have you close the mark as though you were closing a rift, but that didn’t work. Which in retrospect was maybe a stupid suggestion since you can’t close a key with a key, if that even makes any sense.” She turned back to the cedar travelling chest containing their clothes. “Honestly though, all these Chantry-sanctioned treatises are worth shit for trying to figure this out. I wonder if it might be worth reaching out to Morrigan to see if she has any interesting ideas. At this point, I’d be willing to try anything to get that fucking mark off of you.”

“Mm,” Fenris said. “That’s a good idea.”

“You think so?” Hawke said. “Perhaps I’ll ask her if a little blood magic might remove it.”

“You could,” he said vaguely. 

She laughed. “Fenris! You aren’t even listening to me!” She threw a pair of socks at him, and when they bounced off of his book, he finally looked up. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I… what were you saying?”

“I was trying to talk about the anchor,” she said pointedly. 

“Oh. Yes.” He glanced balefully at the mark. The lines of cursed light used to be contained in the main fissures of his palm, but they had started to spread over the last couple of months. Nowadays when the mark flared, its ghastly green light spread down to his wrist and almost all the way to his fingertips. 

He closed his hand and looked up at her. “Did you find something in your books?”

“Nothing earth-shattering yet.” She went back to hanging their clothes in the armoire. “I’m still trying to translate that one really old elven tome I found in the little library in Skyhold, but it’s extremely slow-going.” She paused in her unpacking and peered at him. “Are you all right? You’ve been awfully distracted since we left Kirkwall.” Her eyebrows rose with worry. “The mark isn’t hurting more than usual, is it?” 

“No. I’m well,” he assured her. “I was just thinking… you should eat more dark green vegetables.”

Her eyebrows jumped up, and she barked out a laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He tapped the book on his lap. “This book. It says that pregnant women should eat dark green vegetables three times a day.”

Hawke narrowed her eyes at the book, then wandered over to the couch where he was sitting. “Is that Enchanter Jolen’s compilation?”

“Yes,” he said. He showed her the book, which was titled Andraste’s Little Blessing: Rites and Rituals for Welcoming A New Child.

She handed the book back to him with a grin. “Well, that’s not a bad one. Although it does recommend that pregnant people should read the Chant of Light every night in thanks for the blessing of a child, and I’m sure as shit not doing that.”

He looked at her in dismay. “Is this book not a reputable source, then?”

“No no, it’s fine,” she said. “But we should dig up a copy of the Ralaferin clan’s writings if you really want to read up on pregnancy.”

“A Dalish text?” he said in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s much more down-to-earth,” Hawke said. “Though it doesn’t have the same modern medical suggestions. And it’ll be hard to get your hands on a copy, I studied from one that Merrill had back in the day…” She frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Actually, you can keep reading Andraste’s Little Blessings. It’s preachy and sort of privileged, but it’s fine.”

“All right,” he said warily. He watched her for a moment as she bustled back over to the bed and continued unpacking their clothes. 

He leaned forward. “Perhaps you should sit down. This book says that pregnant women–”

“–should spend as much time as possible on their asses doing nothing, right?” she interrupted.

“Er, yes,” he admitted. 

She shook her head in amusement, then sashayed over to him and closed the book. “Fenris, don’t fuss at me, all right? I promise I’ll relax when I need to. Besides, pregnancy is the easy bit. All I have to do is eat a lot, not drink too much wine, make sure no one bashes me in the stomach. That’s easy. The hard part is raising the kid when it comes out. You have no idea what sort of chaotic little monster you’re going to get.”

He slung one arm along the back of the couch. “Knowing you, it will chaos personified,” he said dryly.

She chuckled and playfully pinched his chin. “That’s the sweetest compliment I’ve had all day.”

He smirked, but he couldn’t help but study her smile. She sounded jocular, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was joking. 

He took her hand. “Since when does chaos disturb you?”

She snorted. “Since I’m responsible for raising it and making sure it doesn’t grow up into an asshole, of course.”

“We will be equally responsible for that,” he said firmly. “You are not doing any part of this alone.”

Her smile softened. “Such a smooth talker,” she said. “That’ll get you everywhere with me.” She slowly straddled his lap and draped her arms around his neck.

He gazed at her seriously. “This is not idle talk. I mean it. If anything scares or worries you about this, I need you to tell me.”

“Okay, okay,” she murmured. “I’ll tell you, I promise.” She placed a small chaste kiss on his lips. 

He parted his lips slightly, and Hawke followed his lead and kissed him more deeply. For a long, luxurious minute, Fenris leaned into her kiss, slowly sliding his palms up her thighs and over her hips, and as his thumbs circled her hipbones, she traced his lower lip with her tongue. 

A spike of interest stirred between his legs. When Hawke tilted her hips and pressed down against his groin, the interest surged more strongly still.

Then someone knocked on the door.

A palace servant’s voice called out. “Inquisitor? The delegates from Orlais and Ferelden have been asking if you require assistance.”

Fenris dropped his head back on the couch in frustration, and Hawke sighed. “That means they’re wondering what’s taking you so long to come out and mingle,” she said. 

He nodded in resignation, then called out to the servant. “No assistance is necessary,” he said. He tilted Hawke’s chin down and kissed her firmly, then lifted her off of his lap. “We will continue this later,” he warned. 

She grinned at him as she rose from the couch. “Ooh, I hope that’s a promise.” She peeled off her shirt and winked at him before sauntering over to the armoire to change. 

He tore his eyes away from her swaying hips and roughly adjusted himself before changing into a more formal shirt and jacket. A few minutes later, he and Hawke were strolling through the chattering crowds of nobles toward the upper level of the palace.

As soon as they reached the upper level, they spotted Cassandra standing with an older Fereldan man. She was impossible to miss, really, given her obscenely tall hat. The second she laid eyes on them, her face lit up. 

Hawke chuckled. “Someone looks in need of rescuing from some very dull company.”

He gave her a chiding look. “Don’t say anything to get her in trouble.”

She widened her eyes. “Me? Get someone in trouble? I would never.” Her eyes were twinkling with mischief, however, and Cassandra also seemed to notice Hawke’s shit-eating grin, as she quickly greeted them before they could say a word.  

“Inquisitor. Champion. It is good to see you both.” She gestured to the stern-faced man at her side. “This is Arl Teagan of Redcliffe. He represents Ferelden at the summit.”

“Oh, lovely!” Hawke said. “How is Alistair doing? Still as handsome as ever, I trust?”

Teagan frowned. “I suppose, though that is hardly important.” He nodded to Fenris. “Inquisitor. Good to meet you.”

“You as well,” Fenris said politely. He glanced briefly at Cassandra, who pulled a tiny apologetic face.

Thankfully, Hawke lightened the dour mood. “Forgive me, I have to ask – Arl Teagan, I understand that you’re a fan of the Grand Tourney. You’re a great rider yourself, aren’t you?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I was, once. I am too busy running the bannorn now, as I’m sure you can understand.”

She blinked innocently. “Oh, but you must have been something to see in your riding days! Would you be so kind as to tell me a tale or two?” 

His scowl deepened. Then he harrumphed. “I suppose I could spare a moment for a story.” 

“Wonderful!” Hawke simpered. She linked her arm with Teagan’s, then winked at Cassandra and Fenris before pulling him away. 

Cassandra shook her head fondly. “She is the same as always,” she said. “Charming almost to a fault. I am happy to see it.”

Fenris nodded; Cassandra’s assessment was accurate, after all. “You look well,” he said. “From what I can see of you, that is.” He glanced in amusement at her outfit.

She made a disgusted noise. “I will never grow accustomed to these trappings, I swear.”

Fenris smirked. “Based on that letter you sent, I understand you’re especially fond of the hat.”

Cassandra shot him a sideways smile. “You got that letter before you left Kirkwall, then? I am glad. I hope Varric enjoyed it.”

Fenris huffed in amusement. “He did, yes.” He declined to tell her that her overused copy of Swords and Shields had been mentioned in the letter.

Cassandra smiled more widely, then sighed. “I suppose we should discuss the Exalted Council. I am supposed to be impartial while speaking for the Chantry, but I confess that neutrality is beyond me. I may be the Divine, but I will always be your friend, and I can hardly ignore the fate of the Inquisition that I began.”

Fenris nodded. When he and Hawke had arrived this morning, Josephine and Leliana had given them the full run-down of the situation, which could be summarized in two sentences: Orlais wanted to acquire the Inquisition as a vassal and thus acquire their power and army, and Ferelden wanted to disband the Inquisition completely. 

“The delegates are short-sighted and selfish,” Cassandra said brusquely. “They do not see the full scope of what you have done these past few years. The Inquisition is still needed. They do not yet understand that.”

Fenris shrugged and glanced around at the assembled nobles and politicians. He hadn’t yet told Cassandra that he’d been planning to quit the Inquisition anyway before the Exalted Council had been announced. 

“We shall see what happens, I suppose,” he said. Personally, dissolving the Inquisition didn’t seem like a totally undesirable result to him. From the most selfish perspective, it would mean that Fenris would finally be free. From a more logical perspective, however, he truly felt that the Inquisition had served its primary purpose, and the more involved they got in political affairs, the more they would be stepping beyond their bounds. In his more bitter moments, Fenris sometimes felt like the Inquisition was becoming the way Solas described the making of a demon: like it was being twisted away from its original purpose into something else entirely. 

And Fenris did not like the idea of the Inquisition becoming so twisted that it was no longer recognizable. 

Cassandra peered at him carefully. “Are you all right, my friend? You seem troubled. Not that you have no reason to be. I mean–” She winced. “That was hardly comforting. I apologize, Fenris, I wish only to express my concern.”

“It’s all right,” he assured her. “I’m better than expected given the situation.” He thought of Hawke’s pregnancy, and his belly jumped in a happy – and nervous – way.

She looked at him in surprise. “That’s… that’s good. I’m glad to hear it.” She sighed again. “I must return to mingling with the bureaucrats. But if you need me, I’m ready to assist. Unconditionally.”

Fenris gave her a small half-bow. “Thank you, Your Holiness.”

She snorted at the formal title. “You are welcome, Inquisitor.”

He smiled at her jab, then looked around for Hawke and Teagan. The Arl was embroiled in a discussion with some other Fereldans, so Fenris quickly slipped into the crowd before Teagan could corner him. 

A moment later, he saw Hawke standing with – of all people – Dorian. 

Fenris raised his eyebrows, equally pleased and surprised. He hadn’t expected Dorian to be here. As he approached them, he realized that Hawke and Dorian were speaking with an Orlesian man, and that Hawke seemed to be flirting with the Orlesian, much to Dorian’s barely suppressed amusement. 

Hawke smiled seductively at the Orlesian. “...and I can only imagine that your control over the Chateau is much firmer than your father’s,” she said. She slid her gaze slowly over the length of his body. “Hmm, very firm indeed.”

“That is kind of you to say, Serrah Hawke,” the Orlesian said coolly. “It is only unfortunate that my governance of the Chateau is a result of you killing my father.”

What? Fenris thought in alarm. But Hawke only batted her eyelashes. “Oh no, my lord, that’s not true.”

“I believe the truth is quite clear, Champion,” the Orlesian retorted. “If I recall correctly, I appeared on the scene to find two dozen bloody qunari corpses and my father crushed beneath his pet wyvern at the base of a cliff.”

Fenris stared at him. Now that was a familiar story. 

Hawke blinked innocently. “I promise you, my lord, it wasn’t my doing. It was the wyvern. I do believe the poor beast was rabid.” She turned to Fenris with a smile. “Fenris, you’re just in time. This is Duke Cyril de Montfort.”

“All right,” Fenris said warily.

“He’s the Duke of Chateau Haine,” Hawke said sweetly. Too sweetly. 

And suddenly Fenris realized who this man was. He was the son of that filthy Duke Prosper – the Duke that Fenris himself had booted off the edge of the cliff for calling Hawke a whore. 

“Ah,” he said. “Er…”

“Inquisitor,” Cyril said with a deep bow. “Your lady wife was just reminding me of our shared past. She appears to have forgotten that she was responsible for my father’s untimely demise at our chateau a few years ago. Were you aware of this?”

Fenris hesitated. Cyril clearly didn’t realize that Fenris had also been present at that party. Not surprising, perhaps, since he and Anders had been skulking around in the corners trying ineffectually to sneak into the castle. 

“I am aware that there was a situation at Chateau Haine a few years ago,” Fenris said carefully. “It’s fortunate that you were capable of stepping seamlessly into your late father’s shoes.”

“Exactly what I was thinking!” Hawke said brightly. “And what handsome and large shoes they are.”

Cyril cleared his throat and smoothed a hand along the front of his doublet. “You are not wrong,” he said. “The Montforts pride ourselves on being very capable leaders. And very good judges of character.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Fenris said. He turned to Dorian. “A word, Lord Pavus?”

“Certainly, Inquisitor,” Dorian said. As Dorian and Fenris moved away, Hawke continued to shamelessly flirt with Cyril. “My lord, I must ask – did you have those shoes custom-made for your size? You know what they say about men with large shoes…” 

Dorian smirked at Fenris, and they chuckled. “She never gives up, does she?” Dorian said quietly.

“Never,” Fenris said, with an affectionate glance at Hawke. He clasped Dorian’s hand in welcome. “It’s good to see you. But what are you even doing here?” In order to be here now, Dorian would only have been back in the Imperium for a few weeks after their trip to the Frostback Basin. Had he been chased out of Tevinter again by a new batch of assassination attempts?

Dorian tutted. “Did Josephine not tell you? Terribly remiss of her. I am the Tevinter ambassador to the Exalted Council, at your service.” 

Fenris raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Tevinter ambassador?”

“Yes indeed,” Dorian said cheerfully. “‘A reward for my interest in the south’, if you can believe it.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “A convenient excuse to get rid of you because you are making too much noise in Minrathous, then.”

Dorian threw his head back and laughed. “Ah Fenris, how I’ve missed your subtlety. But yes, you’re right. It’s a token appointment, so consider me at your disposal.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes. “Hmm,” he said. 

 “Oh dear, you’re wearing the face that says you’re thinking,” Dorian said. “Don’t hurt yourself, now.”

Fenris gave him a chiding look. “If you really were just causing too much trouble in Minrathous, they would have killed you. Why send you away?”

Dorian’s smile faltered for a split second. Then he laughed. “You know, it’s both endearing and obnoxious that you’re from home. There’s just no hiding anything from you.”

Fenris waited in silence, and finally Dorian sighed. “My father is dead,” he said bluntly. 

Fenris raised his eyebrows as Dorian went on. “Assassinated, I believe. I received notice this morning: a perversely cheerful letter congratulating me on assuming his seat in the Magisterium.” He shook his head slightly. “We only met a few times while I was home. He didn’t say anything about keeping me as his heir. This ‘ambassadorship’ was his doing. He must have wanted me away when the trouble began.” 

“So you are truly a magister now,” Fenris said slowly. 

“I certainly am,” Dorian said pleasantly. “I can’t wait to degrade the Magisterium with my presence! A new outfit is required.” 

He wasn’t meeting Fenris’s eye. Fenris studied him shrewdly for a moment before speaking. “How do you feel about this appointment?”

“It’s both a blessing and a curse, pardon the trite cliché,” Dorian said. “But I won’t be entirely without support, as you know. Maevaris and I have been whipping the Lucerni into shape, and now we’ll be an actual faction in the Magisterium. I’ll teach them manners, take them shopping… it will be fun!”

Fenris eyed him appraisingly. “I expect you’ll be busy on your return home, then.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “First item on the agenda will be finding my father’s killers and killing them back. Then I’ll find those giving Tevinter a bad name and kill them. They’re most likely the same people, so that should make the job easier.”

“I see,” Fenris said.

Dorian tsked. “Now Fenris, I know what you’re thinking. The power is going to go to my head and turn me into an abomination and so on.” He delicately arranged a lock of his hair. “I’ll have you know that being an abomination would make me terribly unattractive, so I’ll continue to be my usual principled and heroic self, don’t you worry.” 

Dorian’s blasé attitude and his lack of eye contact… Fenris gazed at him with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, then folded his arms and leaned back against the banister. “That’s not what I was thinking. I was thinking that I am sorry for your father’s loss.”

Dorian looked at him with open surprise, and Fenris shrugged. “He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you were… fond of him. For that, I am sorry.”

 Dorian stared at him for a moment longer, then let out a little laugh. “That was very nearly nice, thank you.” He sighed and twisted one of his rings. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

“You just received the news this morning,” Fenris reasoned. “I suspect it will be some time before it sinks in.”

“Yes, of course. I just…” He trailed off and turned around to face the sprawling palace below, and they were silent for a moment.

Fenris broke the silence. “I am also sorry for the weight of the mantle you are about to assume. It will not be easy. Especially not given… well, everything about the Imperium.”

“I know,” Dorian said softly. He shot Fenris a small smile. “Luckily, I’m not a fan of the easy route. Why else do you think I stay friends with you?”

Fenris snorted. Then Hawke skipped over to them and hugged Dorian from behind. “An overdue hug for my favourite magister!” she chirped. 

“He told you his news, then?” Fenris said.

“Yes!” she said brightly. “And I told him we need to have a party tonight to celebrate.”

Fenris frowned. “To celebrate what, exactly?” As far as he was concerned, nothing that Dorian had told them was good news.

Hawke poked his belly. “To celebrate the Tevinter Imperium automatically becoming a better place with Dorian as one of the boys in charge, of course,” she exclaimed. “We’re going to call it a Gird-Your-Loins Party, because Tevinter had better–”

“–gird their loins for Dorian’s rising status,” Fenris said dryly. “I see. Well, I suppose a small party in our suite…” He trailed off; Hawke was smiling sheepishly.

He gave her a stern look. “What did you do?”

Dorian snickered, and Hawke lifted one shoulder in a coy manner. “I might already have sent someone to tell Josie to book that fancy spa area downstairs for the party.”

“What?” Fenris blurted. “No. We can’t have a party there. That’s far too public.”

Dorian lightly smacked his arm. “Ashamed to celebrate with the fresh new magister, are you?”

Fenris frowned at him. “That is not why.” He turned to Hawke and lowered his voice. “I don’t want to… Celebrating with all of these strangers around is not my idea of a good time.”

“I know, I know,” she said soothingly. “But we’ll start the party in the spa area, then move it to our suite when you’re ready to get drunk.”

Fenris wrinkled his nose. “If the party will end up in our suite, why are you insistent on starting it in the public spa?”

“Because it’s public,” Hawke said. “It’s strategic and fun, you see? If we have an enormous lovely Inquisition party and make friends with all the Orlesians and Fereldans, they won’t speak against us because they’ll love us so much!”

Fenris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This was just like her to assume that making friends was the solution. “Hawke…”

She cut him off. “Sorry, Fenris, I have to go tell Josie more details about the party,” she chirped. She kissed his cheek and started to leave, then stopped and snapped her fingers. “Oh, by the way, I buttered up that Duke Cyril fellow for you. He’s not angry about the whole Chateau Haine thing anymore, but I might have made him climax in his trousers.”

Dorian broke into incredulous coughing, and Fenris gaped at her. “Excuse me?” he demanded.

She held up her hands. “I didn’t touch him, I swear. I think he’s just kinky that way. I’ll tell you more later!” She hurried away through the crowd.

“Please don’t,” Fenris called after her. 

Dorian, meanwhile, was laughing fit to burst. “Andraste’s ample bosom, I will miss you marvelous fools. I would say you should visit, but–”

“That will never happen,” Fenris said flatly.

“I wasn’t truly going to ask,” Dorian said. “It would be far too dangerous for you, anyway. But I do think I might have a solution, which I’ll show you later.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow, unsure what he meant by this. “All right. I suppose I’ll look forward to that.”

“Good. You should,” Dorian said cryptically. He stepped away from the banister. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have very busy and important business with Varric.”

Fenris huffed in amusement. “Pray tell.”

Dorian grinned. “A running bet on how long it will take before Cassandra threatens someone during the Council. Do you want in?”

Fenris hesitated, then shrugged. “All right. I’ll bet five royals that she doesn’t threaten anyone and retains her calm.”

Dorian shook his head in mock dismay. “I can’t decide if that’s adorably loyal to Cassandra, or utterly foolish. You’re on.”

Fenris smirked, and they parted ways. Dorian made a beeline for Varric, and Fenris made his way through the lower courtyard to see if he could take refuge with any other familiar faces.

***************

Read the second half of the banter here on AO3!

[detroitbydark]

Werewolf!Haz x Reader

Word count: 2100+

Summary: When a random encounter puts the possibility of love on Harrison’s plate will he take it or will a supernatural problem leave you both with broken hearts.

Warnings: Smut in future chapters?

(Huge thank you and shout out to @hazssouthernbelle for the beautiful mood board)

A/N: I really hate posting something so long without a cut. Apologizing in advance but my laptop is useless currently and I’m to impatient not to post this. Sorry, not sorry (but maybe just a little).

Moonbeams and Ridinghoods: Chapter 1

There was something profoundly relaxing about grocery shopping in the early hours of the morning, like a salve for frayed nerves it helped you relax when seeming nothing else could. Thanks to the advent of 24hr shops you could leave work looking like a hot mess and not only avoid the crowds, but also the looks your bedraggled appearance was bound to get. Minimal make-up, scrubs, and messy buns went hand in hand with working in the emergency room.

Your shift had run long. A nasty MVA had taken the better part of the night between coding the drunk that had caused it and stabilizing the passengers, it had been physically and emotionally taxing. The cries of the four year old boy who’d been secured in the backseat still rang in your ears. It was his blood that had gotten on your scrub top as you tried to calm him and pick glass out of his dark mop of hair. He was the reason you had a bottle of wine in the cart next to your microwave dinner. Also Probably the reason you couldn’t remember anything else you’d planned to pick up. At this point you were really just pushing the cart around to decompress because you knew there was no way you’d be getting to sleep anytime soon. You were not a fan of bringing work home with you but some things were harder to compartmentalize than others.

A random container of pumpkin spice coffee creamer finds its way into your cart settling next to the bottle of wine. Twas the season for all things PSL, being condemned to basic bitchhood be damned. You tuck your hands into the sleeves of the lucky red hoodie you’ve had since nursing school. The overly long cuffs cover everything but the pink lacquered tips of your fingers. It helped you stave off some of the chill in the air and, more importantly, hid whatever stains your scrubs had picked up.

Leaning your forearms on the handhold of the cart you shuffle around, poking through the deli selection before heading back towards the butcher department. You roll to a stop behind a guy in grey sweats and trainers studying the selection as if preparing for a test. He’s hunched over a section of steaks, looking them over as he throws just about every other one he picks up in his cart.

He’s pretty. You know it even before you see his face. He’s put together well, his tight black t-shirt shows off a muscular set of shoulders and strong arms, while the sweats he’s wearing give you an excellent view of a really good looking ass. You’re almost not embarrassed when he turns to look at you. Almost. A shy smile crosses his face and you just know he caught you looking.

“‘Ello” He offers politely pushing his loaded cart forward just a little, allowing you peruse his leftovers. There honestly wasn’t a much left.

“Hungry?”

The question seems to catch him off guard, “Excuse me?”.

With an open hand you gesture toward the basket. “You may as well have just bought a whole steer.” You observe with a smile, “you doing Keto or paleo or something?”

His blonde head cocks to the side giving you a curious grin. He’s got beautiful blue eyes that crinkle at the corners as he smiles. It’s a really nice smile too and leaves butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Something like that.” He offers with a shrug as he straightens. “Not from around here are you?”

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?” Of course the American accent was the first thing he’d hear. “Or is it unheard of to question someone when they’ve bought an entire side of beef.”

“Can I say both?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“What brings you to London?” He continues.

“I’m doing contract work at the hospital.” You explain. He takes a step closer and you have to tip your chin to keep your eyes on his. The shyness from moments ago seems to be gone and the smile he offers you is one you wouldn’t hesitate to classify as “panty dropping”. It’s confident and entirely too appealing. You glance down at your hands, you can feel your cheeks warming and you fidget with the cuffs of your sleeves for a moment before you collect yourself and glance back up at him.

“I’m Harrison” he offers.

Your hand juts out and he takes his. his grip is firm as you tell him your name.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you y/n.” He chuckles but quickly apologizes, “sorry about that but with that on” he points to your hoodie, “you look more like little red riding hood.”

Leaning forward conspiratorially you can’t help the flirtatious tone in your voice. “Does that make you the big bad wolf?”

Harrison barks out a laugh. “Maybe so”. It’s an odd comment but you ignore it, choosing to focus on the pearly white teeth he’s flashing you.

You bite your tongue to keep from making a cheeky comment.

The pair of you meander slowly, side by side back toward the check out. You’d taken the long way, traveling up and down the isles. Harrison had added a few things to his cart and you had thought about a box or Lucky Charms but changed your mind last minute. “Won’t pair well with wine.” You’d explained when your grocery buddy had raised a brow.

It had been said by your parents that you’d never met a stranger and Harrison was no different. You enjoyed chatting with him as you walked around.

“This has been really nice.” You murmur as the self check out comes into view.

Harrison raises a brow in your direction.

“I mean, I haven’t really met anyone outside of work yet and it’s been kind of…” You trail off, embarrassed.

“Lonely?” You look up at him and are struck by something in his eyes, a certain understanding? It makes your chest tighten and your mouth go dry. You’re nothing but strangers but you feel the beginnings of a connection begin to weave themselves together. It’s crazy though, right? You laugh despite yourself. It was just work stress and lack of sleep. That was all. Harrison looks at you appraisingly as you each take a separate check out and start scanning your purchases.

“I think that sums it up pretty well.” You admit after a moment of silence. You’d left his question unanswered for so long that it takes him a moment to circle back to what you've been talking about. He hums his understanding as you swipe your card and take your meager bag. You watch him load four bags of his own up, much more full than you’d ever dare a plastic bag to take, certainly more than you’d attempt to carry in one go. Harrison loads then into the cart as if they weigh nothing.

“So...uh...it was nice talking to you.” You manage to work out with a smile.

“Think you already said that.” He teases as you roll your eyes. You both head through the sliding glass doors into the crisp air. It’s a cloudless night and the moon is glowing brightly.

“Nearly full.” You note looking up into the sky, missing the stars canceled out by the light pollution of the city.

“Two days.” He says agreeably. “Where are you parked. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Harrison’s eyes narrow as you shrug, “My place isn’t too far away. I’m good to walk.” You swear you hear a low rumble come from him before he speaks.

“M’not letting you walk home by yourself in the dark. Come on, I'm over here.” He says motioning to a sporty black coupe a row over.

“I appreciate the offer but I’m good really. I’m not about to inconvenience anyone.”

“Really, Little Red,” his voice holds a sternness that makes goosebumps rise along your arms, “the inconvenience would be having to follow you in the car while you walk. Not sure where you hail from but this is not somewhere pretty girls walk alone at night.” He crosses his arms over his chest and while you still feel like you’re being lectured you can’t help but admire the muscles in his forearms as they move. “You have two options, I give you a ride or I tail you the whole way.”

“You’re serious aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” He confirms. His stern expression turns smug as you begin to walk toward the car.

“I swear to God, if you murder me I’m going to be so pissed.”

Harrison can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re fucking with me, yeah? That’s nearly 8 blocks away? And you were going to walk it?”

You shrug again from his passenger seat. The traffic lights clip by as you look out the window, Harrison watch the light illuminate and darken over your figure.

“I’d be fine.”

“You’d be mugged.” He corrects and you huff out a dark laugh. “I’m serious. Promise me you won’t attempt that.”

You turn in the passenger seat and he’s caught like a deer in the headlights in the warmth of your eyes. They sparkle with mischief and he finds he’s completely unable (or unwilling) to look away.

The scent of you is surrounding him in the closed quarters and he fights off the urge to inhale deeply and take the essence of you into his lungs. So close to a full moon Harrison found his senses, those instinctual parts of him became magnified. The scent of you stirred up a flurry of reactions he’d never had. Maybe that was why he’d kept close to you in the shop or why he had all but demanded you allow him to drive you home. He felt protective like he’d only ever felt for the rest of the pack. When he’d think about it later it was sure to confuse him but, for now, he let himself enjoy the nearness and the strange feelings.

“So does this mean you’re going to be my own personal Uber?” You tease lightly, biting at your lower lip in a way he has a hard time pulling his gaze away from.

“If it means you won’t be so reckless? Yes. A thousand times. I’ll program my number in your phone and everything.”

You’re still biting your lip as he swings into a parallel parking space in front of your flat. It wasn’t the worst part of town but it certainly could have been better. You thank him softly and turn to get out. He takes the opportunity with your back turned to pull that one deep breath he’s been dying to take, he can smell old blood dried on your clothes, the laundry soap you’d used, the soft scent of lavender from your shampoo, and underneath it all something that was so you he couldn’t put a name to it.

You’ve got one foot out the door before you turn back and jam your phone in his face. Harrison’s eyes widen as he stares at the unlocked contact screen.

“Don’t be a scaredy-cat.” You challenge “you said you’d do it.” He can see a faint blush on your cheeks as you push on with false bravado.

“I thought I was the big bad wolf.” It’s a bad joke and you don’t get it but he can’t help himself. Tom, Harry, Maybe even Tom’s girl, Emily, will find the humor in it when he tells them about it later.

“Prove it.” You challenge, looking tiny in that cherry red hoodie. “Don’t be a pussy.” You prod. It's about the cutest thing he’s seen in ages.

Fucking Yanks. An Abnormally friendly lot. Maybe not something he was used to but he really liked how you’d been the one to come up to him earlier. Usually this close to a change people tended to avoid him. You didn’t even seem to flinch and had even gone as far as to bat those pretty eyes at him. It was a nice change of pace.

Without a second hesitation he takes your phone and adds his own information, he barely takes his eyes off of you as he does and you hold his stare for a respectable few seconds before blushing harder and looking away.

Bloody cute.

He hands the cell back and you hit send, waiting until you hear his ring before disconnecting.

“Had to keep you honest.” You explain before climbing out of the car,bottle of wine sloshing in the small bag you carried. “Thanks for the ride, Harrison.”

Haz gives you a small wave and watches you till your in your door. You glance back over your shoulder before you go in and give him a small wave with the tips of your fingers. He can’t help the silly grin that crosses his face. Yeah, Tom was going to find this whole thing hilarious.