#we will be reciting this just like the most fun i’ve ever had i bet

[amid-fandoms]

why does ‘we were the best thing about the last jedi’ sound like a tragic romance novel quote that would be really popular in 2013 or something

[mistersshelby]

I have an idea for the story. So, maybe Thomas Shelby would be invited to a party to do some business but all of the guests would be speaking in different language (unfamiliar to Thomas) and he would ask the reader to come to the party to translate it (she would be almost native to it) and the guests would hit on her all the time and even though Tom and reader are not together he would be veeeeeeery jealous of her!!! (We love some good jealous Thomas) It’s just an idea, I hope you liked it! 😊

sorry this took so long!! hope you like it! also just disclaimer i don't actually speak german anything i used here i used google translate for so i'm sorry if it's incorrect!!

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

“Business with the Germans?” You frown, “I didn’t know you worked with the Germans.”

“The alliance is new. Will you do it?” You’re sitting across from Tommy in his office and he looks rather bored, “I’ll pay you extra.”

You smirk, “Can I get a new dress?”

He sighs, “Sure.”

“Okay.” You fold your hands in your lap, “I’ll do it.”

“Great.” He says dismissively, “I’ll pick you up at 7.” He pushes some cash across his desk, “Go pick out a dress.”

You eagerly take the cash and leave his office. Tommy never took you on business. You had always hoped he would, but you knew for the most part he only ever asked you to check over the books for him, needing your patience and attention to detail. But now, now he needed your German. And you got to wear a pretty dress.

Tommy was silent as he drove you to the party. The only instructions he gave were to not let anyone know that you spoke German, at least at first. Easy enough. After being in Birmingham for so long you were more capable of sounding like a native Brummie than a German anyway. Though your mother had left Germany with you long before the Great War, you knew the way the Brits saw Germans and so you had removed every trace of your native country from yourself.

“You’re German.” Tommy had said the day you sat across from him, to apply for the secretarial position.

“Yes.” You swallowed tightly. You knew a decorated war vet like Tommy was highly unlikely to hire a German, but you had to try. You were out of money and you needed a job.

“When did you leave your home country?”

“1910, sir.”

“And who did you support in the war?”

You opened and closed your mouth, “I was still quite a young girl then, sir, I knew nothing of politics.”

He carefully leaned forward at his desk and folded his hands in front of him. You avoided his eyes, “Which side?”

“I supported the Allied Forces, sir. I like living here, I supported my new home.” You say quietly, still unable to meet his eyes.

“You don’t sound German.” He says.

You look up at that, “When the war started I made sure I sounded like true Brummie. I think you know what patriotic men do to women from the enemy country.” You recalled a memory of being backed into an alley by two Englishmen who had heard you mutter something in German while in a shop. “I rarely speak German anymore.”

“But you can?”

“Yes,” You say and smile sadly, “Sprechen erinnert es mich an meine Mutter.”

He had no idea what you had just said, but it made no difference, “Good.” He took out a cigarette and lit it, “You’re hired.”

You think now as you sit in this car that even all that time ago, Tommy must have foreseen that he would need someone around who spoke German. 

Though you had looked forward to this party all evening, you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest as Tommy walked you inside, “Stay close to me and just listen.” Is all he says and you manage a nod.

Hearing the cacophony of German as you entered the room nearly brought you to tears. You loved England and were proud to be English now, but you hadn’t been in a room with so many Germans since you were barely a girl and the nostalgia rushed through you. You thought of family parties, your father sneaking you a sip of beer when your mother wasn’t looking, the smell of her potato pancakes filling the whole house.

“Are you alright?” Tommy asked, noticing the expression on your face.

You shook off the memories, “Fine.”

Tommy grabbed two champagne flutes off the waiter’s tray and handed one to you as an older man approached him, flanked by two associates.

He spoke to Tommy in heavily accented English about a deal. It didn’t concern you and they were speaking English so you directed your attention elsewhere and found there were several sets of eyes on you. You were one of maybe two women that were in the room currently and you found yourself sweating beneath their predatory gazes.

And then one of the associates of the man who spoke to Tommy said something lowly and German and you had to hide your blush. Tommy sensed your change in behavior and forced a smile, “Excuse us a moment,” He takes your arm and drags you from the room, “What did he say?”

You open and close your mouth, “Tommy, it had nothing to do with the business, it’s fine.”

He narrows his eyes at you, “They said something about you. They know you’re German.”

You sigh, “No, but with the way you just pulled me out of there, I’m sure they do now.”

“What did he say?” He repeats.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and sighed, “They want to have a go at me as well in addition to… The weapons that you seem to be selling them.”

He stares at you and then nods, “You can let them know you speak German now.” And then walks back to the men without waiting for you.

You frown to yourself and then walk back to Tommy. When you return, they’re speaking business again and the one who suggested he wanted to fuck you stares you down again. You look away.

He elbows the man talking to Tommy, “Sag ihm, ich will Zeit mit seiner Hure oder es wird keinen Deal geben.” Tell him I want time with his whore or there will be no deal.

You finally look at him, the disgust evident on your face, “Ich bin keine Hure und wenn du mich berührst, werde ich sicherstellen, dass du mit einer Hand weniger gehst.” 

The men pale and Tommy leans to your ear, “What just happened?”

“He insisted on fucking me and I told him if he touched me he’d leave without his hand.”

Tommy couldn’t hide the smirk on his face as he turned back to the Germans who still had yet to regain their color.

“You brought a German with you?” The first one said.

“Well, I didn’t want to be at a disadvantage seeing as I’m the only Englishman here, surely you understand. It appears you’ve upset her as well,” He clicks his tongue, “That’s not a very good idea.”

“My men are not afraid of your small woman, Mr. Shelby, and they still feel that since you brought her here she is fair game--”

“I think she made it perfectly clear that no one will be laying a hand on her,” He stepped to the man, “You may not be afraid of her, but you should be very afraid of me. And I don’t take kindly to my associates being disrespected.” He steps back, “Now we can resume the business or we’re leaving. Your choice.”

“You forget, Mister Shelby, that you are outnumbered here.”

Tommy smiles, nodding, “You think I would come alone. I brought a German with me, none of you thought to consider that I would prepare in that way. Do you really want to take the gamble that no one else is with me?”

The Germans hesitantly looked around the room. You were fairly certain Tommy was bluffing, but he could have men waiting outside that he hadn’t told you about. If you were the Germans, you wouldn’t take the gamble. Tommy was fuckin’ ruthless, you’d witnessed it first hand, but he was also clever as hell. Could probably outsmart every person in this room. You would never bet against him.

Suddenly, the Germans smile, “Why don’t you and your woman enjoy the party, eh? The business can wait.”

Tommy stares for a moment before smirking, “Pleasure, gentlemen.” And then he leads you away.

You exhale in relief and Tommy notices, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” You frown, “No, don’t be sorry.” And then you smile, “This is the most alive I’ve felt in years.”

He manages a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “Go enjoy yourself, then. We’ll leave in an hour or two.” And then he’s gone before you can protest.

Before you know it, there’s another man next to you. He has kind eyes, “Sprichst du Deutsch?” He asks.

You nod, offering him a shy smile, “Ja.”

Tommy had disappeared into a dark corner, perplexed by the sudden feeling he needed to protect you, needing to drown it in alcohol. He was watching you still, the easy way you talked to the men who ate up your smiles and shy glances. You were kind, good. And yet, when you bit back at those Germans like a Rottweiler he thought maybe you had been hiding something from him. These men would rue the day they underestimated you, he was sure of it. He was beginning to regret it himself especially as he saw the glint of a knife tucked away in your hair disguised as a clip, something he certainly had not told you to bring.

They all eat you up, and you’re polite, but you keep looking around the room. Looking for more suitable men or looking for him? He lets himself imagine the latter and then feels incredibly stupid for even wanting it. Wanting you. And the want and the jealousy only grows as he keeps drinking and you laugh at some joke the German toff next to you had recited. You even reach out a hand to rest on his arm. Tommy’s hand tightens on his glass.

And then when he leans over to whisper in your ear, his lips fall to your neck. You don’t push him away and the roaring in Tommy’s ears is deafening. He wants you to reach for that knife in your hair and cut him, but instead you lean into his touch, your eyelids fluttering with pleasure. 

That’s the final straw. Tommy cracks his neck each way before standing. He walks over to you calmly and clears his throat from behind and you jump, spinning to look at him. “Tommy, I--”

“Are you having fun, love?” His tone becomes territorial and the toff is already frowning. Good. But you’re also frowning at the endearment. He doesn’t blame you, he hadn’t paid much attention to you before tonight.

You frown, “Yes.” You say firmly. He almost raises his eyebrows at the challenge in your voice.

“Go and fuck off now.” He says to the toff, not taking his eyes off you.

“I, but, we were just--” The toff starts and you begin smirking.

“Yes, Tommy,” You continue, “We were just getting to know each other, did you need me for something?” He can see in your eyes you’re aware of the effect you’ve had on him tonight and you’re enjoying this. You’d push him over the edge if you could. He had gravely misjudged you.

“You’d like to continue talking with the toff?”

“Oh, Tommy,” You lower your voice, “We were doing much more than just talking.” There’s deadly rage in his eyes and it delights you.

“Brauchst du mich, um ihn loszuwerden?” Do you need me to get rid of him?

You laugh, still looking at Tommy, “Oh nein, Liebling, du würdest dich nur umbringen lassen.” Oh no, darling, you’d only get yourself killed.

“What are you saying to him?” Tommy asks coldly.

You ignore his question, “What would you do if I kissed him right now?” You whisper in Tommy’s ear.

He looks at you with such disdain, you’re unsure if maybe you crossed the line. “Do you want him dead?” Tommy asks quickly in Romani. You had spent enough time with the Shelbys to pick up some words here and there and he knew you would understand. 

You stare him down for a few moments, the poor toff still waiting behind you. Finally, you sigh and turn to him, “I’m terribly sorry, but I must be going.” You tell him in English, “It was lovely to meet you.” You don’t kiss him on the mouth, but you do kiss his cheek lightly and it takes everything in Tommy not to pull that knife out of your hair himself and cut him.

You walk out without waiting for the toff or Tommy and as he walks behind you he thinks of all the ways he’ll give you hell for what you did in there. When you’re outside, he catches up to you and grabs your arm, backing you against the wall. He grips your throat with his hand, enough that it should scare you, but not enough to make it hard to breathe.

But you only look at him defiantly, that smirk still on your face, “If I had known it was this easy to make Tommy Shelby squirm I would’ve done this ages ago.” You said.

He can’t answer you, can’t think of anything but that mouth, that dirty, cursed mouth. And so he covers it with his own. His kiss is rough and angry and his hand tightens around your throat enough to make you gasp, but he can feel you’re still smiling. You like it. That only arouses him further.

“You’re fuckin’ evil.” He says into your mouth and you moan when he tightens his hand again, “Will you come to bed with me?”

He pulls away from you the smallest bit to read your face. “Yes,” You say breathlessly.

He leans in for one more hungry kiss before pulling you roughly by the wrist to the car. His hand wandering up your thigh throughout the drive home. It was probably the best night of your adult life.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

✏, hotchreid, first kiss 🥺

You don’t just get a blurb honey, you get the whole damn night. I’ll eventually start writing blurbs and not full-length oneshots for these asks, but Cee (my love my family my favorite always) is who got me back into CM in the first place so yours was always going to be the long, fleshed out version. I love you so my dear. 

((P.S. Yes I’m still working on the 200follower asks xD I’m so sorry life got in the way and I discovered hcs but I’m being responsible and finishing all of these now I promise!!!))

Personal plot bunny: Hotch invites Reid over to help with a research paper/with Jack and Reid gets to see his boss all domestic and soft, and in turn Spencer just kind of fits in his home seamlessly and Hotch kisses him as he leaves.

Word Count: 3107

--

It’s a perfectly ordinary day in late November when Hotch opens his apartment door to Reid standing there in the clothes he’d worn to work earlier that day. Satchel over his shoulder, wrapped in jacket and scarf, and giving him a small quirk of a smile in greeting -- still very obviously thrown off kilter that Hotch had invited him over in the first place. 

When Reid said he’d lend him a hand on his most recent research paper, the younger agent had probably expected them to do it at the office. Interviews and research were all a big part of having a Behavioral Science subunit at the FBI, and published papers were a requirement from all BAU members to aid in this endeavor. Every team had to keep a steady output of resources and research studies going just to keep funding for the department afloat. He may be Unit Chief, but Hotch was no exception to these requirements, even with as much work as he has to put in on the regular. 

Usually, he can do his research and piece together papers in between his daily paperwork. But this week Jess is sick with a stomach flu, and Jack hadn’t gotten to spend time with Hotch in what feels like a month. So the easiest solution was obviously to invite Reid to have dinner with them at his home, entertain him while he read over the drafted paper and helped Hotch out. 

Obviously. 

The only reasonable option, really. 

“Thanks for coming, Reid,” Hotch greets back with a softened expression as he looks him up and down. “Did you even go home first?” The very first thing Hotch always does is change out of his suit when he gets home, shedding that armour as best he can to switch mindsets between Agent Hotchner of the FBI, and Aaron Hotchner the ever-stressed-out single dad. That evening donning worn jeans and a heather grey Henley to better accommodate himself within the space. 

“Oh -- no, I didn’t see much point,” Reid shrugs, then motioning to his satchel which is now filled with books that weren’t there when he’d left the bull pen a couple hours before. “I stopped by the law library in Georgetown and found a few more references, just in case you were using the Favero citations instead of Weston and I don’t have all of those read yet -- or I didn’t. I do now. But I still brought them--”

Hotch smiles, a real smile -- small as it is, but no less fond of Reid going out of his way to help him. But before he can thank him again Jack’s socked feet come thundering down the hall behind him. 

“Dr. Spencer! Dr. Spencer! Dr. Spencer!” And he’s slipping past Hotch, smooth and fluid as water, attaching himself to Reid’s legs and waist in a hug with a big smile that looks so much like Aaron’s own. When he’d been younger, only about three or four years old, Jack had been deathly scared of Doctor’s visits. It had been Reid’s idea to have Jack start calling him ‘Dr. Spencer’ to help alleviate some of that fear, associating the moniker with his non-threatening and familiar face. Reid had been much younger then, too, and that had helped the tactic work like a charm. Haley had been over the moon when his reverse psychology worked out so well. 

“Jack! Woah, you got taller!” Reid’s whole demeanor changes. A little more animated, more comfortable, even -- and Hotch could remember a time when Reid hadn’t even wanted to hold a child for fear of the interaction. Now, he was always the first to talk to one if JJ didn’t beat him to it. “How’ve you been?” “Good!” Jack says excitedly, barreling over the small talk in ways only children can. “Dad says you’re going to help him with his homework, can you help me with mine too?!”

Reid smiles even wider and chances a glance at Hotch that he feels in his chest. “You bet, I love helping with homework.”

Jack just scrunches his nose up at him. “Why?”

“Because it’s fun.”

“Homework isn’t fun.”

“Well, maybe you’ve been doing it wrong.” 

“Let’s let Dr. Reid in from the hallway,” Hotch interrupts with a laugh, herding his son and the younger agent inside. “Jack, go get your homework and you can do it at the table,” Hotch says as he takes Reid’s coat and watches him kick off his shoes by the door. Mismatched socks prominent against the hardwood floors. Making himself at home, shedding some of the layers and getting comfortable in the space much like Aaron does every day after work. “Hope you like spaghetti. It won’t be as good as Rossi’s.”

“Who doesn’t love spaghetti,” Spencer grins with a soft laugh. “Rossi’s is almost too fancy for me, anyway.”

“A man of simple tastes,” Hotch teases him.

“I’m easily impressed.”

“Lucky me.” 

It slips out, the low, comfortable banter, and Reid’s eyes are alight and Aaron feels himself smiling enough his dimples show, and he leads the way to the kitchen where dinner is already in the works on the stove. Filling the small condo with the smell of tomato sauce and garlic. 

-

Jack and Reid set up at the kitchen bartop where they can watch Hotch finish cooking and stay within reach of conversation. It doesn’t take long for Hotch to finish making dinner, or for Jack to finish his homework spurred on by Reid’s strange enthusiasm for math problems. With how much time they spend talking about psychology and sociology (and sometimes even philosophy) Hotch always forgets one of Reid’s Ph.D.’s is in mathematics. 

“Numbers just make sense,” he explains, when Hotch brings it up while drizzling olive oil on the drained pasta on the stove. “There’s always a right answer and the rest are wrong. It’s comforting, to an extent, but predictable -- that’s why I shifted focus from sciences to humanities. There’s no right or wrong answers in philosophy, it’s all argumentative. Always evolving. I prefer that, it’s no fun having all the answers.” 

And coming from someone who does always have all the right answers, that must mean something profound to the younger man. One conversation outside the walls of the BAU and Hotch already feels like he understands Reid more than he has in a long time.

--

Dinner runs so smoothly it’s as if Reid is always there for it. Jack even finishes all of his food and helps with the dishes before Hotch has to ask him to. Making the two men exchange a glance and Hotch ask, “You charge by the hour?” and Reid laughs into his water glass in reply. They end up talking a bit about the paper Hotch has been working on, along with about a dozen other things Reid launches into in side tangents -- from the books he’d read during his brief visit to Georgetown that afternoon, to his most recent philosophical debate he had with his doctoral advisor about his thesis paper he’ll have to submit at the end of next month. 

“Do you need time to piece it together? I didn’t know you were that close to your next Ph.D.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Reid waves him off. “I just need a weekend where we are actually in town and not on a case, and I’ll get it finished.” 

“I’ve been working on this paper for the past six months,” Hotch all but balks in disbelief. “How can you write a Ph.D. dissertation in a weekend?”

“Well, I’m not the Unit Chief or a single parent,” Reid points out with a gentle grin, and Hotch feels one pulling at his own lips as well. “But it’s mostly written anyway, just all up here.” He points to his head, and Hotch bets he could recite the paper verbatim with what he writes up when he has the time.

“You could always write it on the jet,” Hotch says. 

“I do,” Reid smirks, and Hotch can’t help but roll his eyes. “In my head, someone is usually taking up the table with a headstart on paperwork.”

“I think they can be talked into relinquishing some table top space,” Hotch says, until Reid gives him a look. “Oh, you mean me?”

“You spread out everything to keep it organized in piles.” 

“I’d share with you.”

“You told Rossi to use the couch last week when he wanted to answer emails,” Reid says with a barely contained laugh.

“Yeah, well, he’s not you,” Hotch admits before he can take it back, and Reid almost answers -- mouth open and everything -- when Jack comes back and is all but begging ‘Dr. Spencer’ to help him with his science fair project he hadn’t even decided on. 

--

The rest of the evening ends up with the three holed up in Hotch’s office, Reid surrounded by Law books and reading material he hasn’t gotten to sift through before, Hotch with his drafted paper printed out for Reid’s ease of access, and Jack with his science textbook and a notebook already talking Reid’s ear off about a science project for the spring. 

But once the time starts to tip into the later hours of the night, Hotch tells Jack to get ready for bed and say goodnight to Dr. Reid. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Spencer. Thanks for your help,” Jack says politely, ingrained in him by his father and Reid smiles a little too bright and soft at the same time at how sweet it is he tries to be good for company.

“You know, Jack, you can just call me Spencer if you’d like,” he says, knowing that the older boy has already outgrown his fear of the doctor and the reverse psychology is no longer needed.

Jack looks a little confused for a moment. “Dad doesn’t.” 

“Well, your dad can, too -- if he wants,” Reid says, looking to Hotch and they share a look he once again can feel in his chest. Watching the whole interaction with a carefully guarded expression, but it melts under Reid’s glance and he isn’t quite sure what is there anymore. But whatever it is, it makes Reid smile softly at him.

“Okay, goodnight Spencer,” Jack interrupts their moment, and hugs Reid around the neck from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. It jostles the younger man, and Hotch smiles wide and ducks his head down to hide it. But Reid hugs Hotch’s son back, and tells him goodnight, as well. “You’ll come back, right?”

“Of course, I’d love to,” Reid tells him, and -- satisfied -- Jack goes off to brush his teeth, leaving the two in a lull of heavy silence. “Sorry, I think I just invited myself over, some time.”

“You’re welcome anytime.” And he means that, knows Reid knows that as he looks at him a little more soundly than before. “Not just for work.” If that needed to be said. 

And if Reid’s face flushes a little darker in the low lighting, Hotch doesn’t mention. No matter how much he can’t seem to look away.

Reid looks over his entire paper while Hotch tucks Jack into bed, and is already making notes on it at his desk when the man returns. The next hour rolls into two, and Hotch drags another chair in from the kitchen so they can share his desk and work through bullet points on the paper but… it was pretty much done, from the start. Even Reid’s edits didn’t take them long. After a while they dissolve into just talking, discussions and anecdotes and sitting maybe a little too close and laughing so much and so loud sometimes they have to quiet themselves so they don’t wake Jack down the hall. 

It’s almost 10:30 by the time they resurface from each other, before Hotch realizes Reid probably needs to go home because they both have to be at work bright and early. But this was… this was the best night he’s had in a long, long time, and he wants to do it again. Soon. More than soon. More than once. He thinks about all of this as he follows Reid to the front door and helps him gather the rest of his things. 

“We should do this again, sometime,” Hotch mentions, hands in his pockets and trying to be more cool about this than he feels.

“I’d like that, I had a lot of fun tonight,” Reid answers, standing up from tying his shoes and giving him that bright, wide smile he doesn’t always feel comfortable enough to allow. It never fails to stall Hotch in his tracks, staring a little too long at his mouth than he should be. 

“What if, next time, it’s just us? And no Jack?” he continues, elaboration just in case Reid doesn’t grasp what he’s asking. Reid is watching him with this look as if he’s unsure he heard correctly, and Hotch is nothing if not patient.

“I’d… I’d be okay with that,” Reid answers, slowly as he weighs some unseen options and gauges Hotch’s facial expressions to the most minute detail.

“Good. How about Saturday?”

He can see the moment it all clicks into place.

“...Are you asking me on a date?” Reid asks, a little winded. 

“If that’s alright with you,” Hotch says with a half smile. Once again sounding more confident than he should in the face of how Reid’s eyes start to dart around and he licks his lips nervously.

“I don’t know how -- how good I am with dates.” There’s a story behind that, and Hotch wants to know it, but he does his best to press Reid gently. Because… he’s been holding off asking the younger man for a long time, now, but after tonight he gets the feeling that he might not have needed to be so hesitant, after all. 

“Oh?”

“Just -- the ritual of it all always throws me off. Dressing up and going out, and making conversation over dinner while trying to eat and maintain the other’s attention, and then keeping it all going if you manage to do that I just don’t always do so well one-on-one and --”

“Reid.” He pauses, then -- “Spencer.” And that stalls his stream of thought to words, catching Spencer’s attention and snagging it in the best way. “...we just did all of that. And it was great.” Hotch knows his own expression has softened around the edges over the course of the night, smiles easier to hold, eyes more expressive, and Spencer takes in every change and nuance with a well-practice eye and is… very obviously stunned by what he finds. “So -- I’d like to do it again. Saturday?” 

Shocked, eyes a little wide, breath lost to the wind, Spencer waits a beat too long to answer. Enough to make Hotch nervous, before he answers in a sound that could have been a whisper if it had been quieter. A slight crack to it that betrays his emotion.

“Okay.” 

Hotch gets a turn to be stunned, because he thought this had been about to take a very different turn. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“--Okay.”

Intelligent men that they were, that was the extent of the conversation, and then Reid is smiling that bright, sunshine laced smile and Hotch is trying to contain his own and -- Reid still needs to go home. So, biting his lip, Reid turns as if to leave -- is just about out the door when he stops and turns back so quick he almost runs into Hotch on the threshold. 

“So… technically, that means this was our first date, then. Right?” he looks so goddamn hopeful, and like he has something further to add, that Hotch smiles outright and this time doesn’t bother hiding it.

“Technically, yes.” He supposes it was. And it really had been… a great night. Not a bad first date, at all.

Reid takes far too long trying to string together words after that. Keeps looking to Hotch then away to gather his thoughts, then back again as if in search of something; and it’s after about the third time that Hotch realizes what he’s getting at. What he’s trying to find a way to ask. 

It hits him so silent and hard it about knocks the wind out of him.

Oh.

He can do that.

Hotch steps closer, about the same time Spencer opens his mouth like he’s finally figured out the right combination of words within the range of the English language to form a coherent sentence, and they all die on his tongue the moment Hotch guides him back with a hand on his hip. He’s done it before, gentle leading when Reid strays the wrong way or needs to be shifted in a crowded room on cases, and this time is just as easy and no different.

Except this time, Hotch isn’t maneuvering them to get past him. This time, he presses Spencer’s spine to the doorframe and leans in to capture his lips with his own. Right there, in the open doorway.

Hotch kisses him, and it’s perfect.

The gentle slide of lips is over before either know it, lasts longer than his racing heart can measure, and before Hotch can decide his next move Spencer tilts in closer and kisses him back, slow and methodical and Hotch feels that. Feels it the way he’s felt every moment they had and shared the whole night. His free hand finds that sharp jaw framed in messy curls getting longer all over again, and Spencer doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands beyond grasp at Hotch’s shirt at his sides and then -- 

Then Hotch pulls back enough that he can nudge his nose against Spencer’s carefully, a punctuation that ends the kiss soft and apologetic. Silently says that’s all they can do tonight. That there’s more, awaiting them, but that… 

That had been one hell of a good first kiss.

“See you in the morning, Spencer.” 

For once, Dr. Spencer Reid is speechless in an entirely new way, and he merely nods with lips still parted and a little darker from the kiss. From kissing him, and Hotch knows he stares more than he should, but that’s been a frequent occurrence lately. It’s just getting harder and harder to turn away, watch Reid -- Spencer -- smile at him in that quiet way only ever directed at him, and then walk away. But he lets it happen, feels every step even as he shuts the door behind him.

Because Hotch will see Spencer tomorrow.

And, one day, maybe he won’t have to watch him walk away at all. 

[smallblueandloud]

some leverage: redemption reactions

i finished leverage redemption today! and i don't have anyone to talk to about it so, here we have my reactions for all eight episodes, both positive and negative. please feel free to reblog/comment -- discussions are what i'm here for! (under a cut because spoilers and also this ended up being 2k. whoops!)

EPISODE 1: the too many rembrandts job

the "aww, this guy is trying to pull his first heist! how cute" job

what they chose to do with nate was... interesting. it might just be that i read too many of those cracky "here's how they should explain nate's absence" posts, but i was expecting something funny. the grief permeating this episode -- it makes SENSE, but it was still weird. leverage doesn't usually have sadness like this. pain, yes, rage, certainly, but sadness? not usually

the way sophie immediately spots the signs of a con and slips into a character? phenomenal. i'm here for EXPERTS BEING EXPERTS and this show does NOT disappoint

harry wilson is a really solid character! most impressively, he's not flynn, which is impressive enough that i'm making a whole bullet point about it. i was worried that noah wyle was kinda a one-trick pony, but it appears not! good for him tbh

i'm LIVING for the ot3 moments in this episode. "what happened?" "we happened" YESSSSS!!! i wish we'd had more domesticity, but i know they did what they could

"he gets it from his father" FUCK!!!!!

the discussion about redemption in this episode is FANTASTIC but personally i am still delirious with excitement about "my nana leads a multi-denominational household" so expect those thoughts in 3-5 business days

EPISODE 2: the panamanian monkey job

the "flash electropop concert" job

BREANNA INTRODUCTION! i love her so MUCH, y'all. we only got to see her dynamic with hardison in this one episode, but man, it manages to be one of her best dynamics anyway. i just! i love her! i love the way the team works with her!

"in our field, you're one of the best. but there, you're the only one." god we have ELIOT/HARDISON rights and i am NOT OKAY. just!! them!!!!!! being supportive!!!!!! they have learned how to be sweet with each other! they work together so much better (in part because we're seeing them from harry's outsider pov instead of nate's insider pov, but STILL)

midway through this episode, i thought "huh, leverage always focuses on specific people, when really the problem is systematic, and pretending it's anything different is just an excuse to not fight for change". and then at the end harry talks about how the system itself is broken! i love knowing that john rogers and i were reading the same tweets last summer. it's a good feeling to trust the people making a piece of media

who let noah wyle speak spanish. whoever it was, they need to rescind their permission

god, the parker/hardison in this episode. THE PARKER/HARDISON IN THIS EPISODE! they KILL me friends they KILL ME!

also just like, hardison in this episode in general. he made a star trek reference! he made a doctor who reference! he decides there are other people who need him more! the way they wrote around gina bellman's maternity leave in s2 was good but this was phenomenal.

also i'm here for ot3 crumbs so "is this like the time when eliot wanted us to say no" is going on my ot3-is-canon conspiracy board

this is a tiny detail but eliot taking out the drone with a goddamn ORANGE was so good. he's so good at his job!! they're all so good at their jobs!! i know i literally just talked about this but AAA

EPISODE 3: the rollin' on the river job

the "sometimes you just want to rob a vault wearing a floofy dress, and that's valid" job

i did... not. like. how the villain in this one was an immigrant whose exploitable weakness was a "desperation" to be included in the upper crust. and the fact that they beat him with a literal southern belle who explicitly beats him BECAUSE her family has been in the area for "hundreds of years"? it just feels Iffy.

also iffy about this episode was breanna's characterization. it felt inconsistent. she feels inconsistent across the whole season, but this episode in particular... she tells harry she's only with the team because she's desperate, that she doesn't believe in hope, and then at the end of the episode she tells parker she wants to be there to change the world. and like, even in the first place, she's not here out of desperation! SHE asked to join the team! like, i can see how it all kinda fits together, but it just feels... inconsistent. idk. i think these scripts all could've benefited from an extra round or two of editing.

anyway! i loved the way they tied hardison into these episodes, even though aldis hodge couldn't be there. he has binders! breanna doesn't want to read them! parker did! he put in big letters, "when in doubt, trust the person in the van". i'm just so !!! about how much i love him and how much he loves his team and how much his team loves him. FOUND FAMILY, BABY!

all inconsistencies in breanna's characterization aside, i really liked her speech at the end. i know how she feels! it's really nice to have someone on the team who's from -- not my world, really, but a lot closer than any of the others. it's a nice feeling! i love her a lot. i hope her writing gets more consistent

lol, parker ate eliot's carrot cake. i love the parker/eliot rights we get in this show, they're so domestic and it's wonderful.

EPISODE 4: the tower job

the "hardison made his partners learn klingon" job

watching this episode was what made me go "they're not going to make us sit through a harry/sophie romance... right? right?"

i'm still not sure they're gonna let us avoid it but it COULD work so... i've decided to just not worry about it for now

i liked the number of ways the con goes wrong! it was fun to watch them work on the fly like that. i think them not having a dedicated Mastermind(tm) is a good watsonian explanation for their plans being pretty haphazard in general, but it's good, they think well on their feet

nate was a chessmaster. he had the whole situation in his mind from the beginning, accounting for every possible outcome. parker and sophie are much more adaptive, and it's cool to see. they can rely on their respective skillsets a lot more than nate could

a really solid episode! probably one of the strongest ones in the season. i liked it a lot.

(ALSO as mentioned above the klingon lines were fantastic and not just because they were a star trek reference -- every time eliot and parker both mentioned hardison, together, it added a year to my lifespan)

EPISODE 5: the paranormal hacktivity job

the "sophie was worryingly prepared to fake her death" job

i know why they characterized the client as a skeptic, i really do, and i loved the format of this episode, but also. But Also. she should've been a love interest for breanna and I'm Right.

having a girl's episode was the CORRECT choice. they do crimes in their free time! they fleece newbie, cruel criminals! it's so good!

it would've been cool to have eliot around for the assassin guy, but it was also cool to see the others take him out without having eliot to rely on. it's like getting to see how they'd take out eliot, if they were ever on opposing sides.

PARKER CANONICALLY USES SCRIPTS IT'S THE BEST THING EVER

breanna bristling about letting the criminal into the theater's electric system was so good god i love her so much. she knows hardware! i bet she likes to work with her hands. i bet she stims. i bet she has adhd

actually, sidenote, but i LOVE these headquarters. they look so nice! the stage is so nice! i loved having an episode set in and around it, it was such a good choice.

EPISODE 6: the card game job

the "FINALLY AN EXPLICITLY QUEER LEVERAGE CHARACTER" job

QUEER BREANNA QUEER BREANNA QUEER BREANNA QUEER BR

UNFOLLOW ME NOW THIS IS GONNA BE THE ONLY THING I POST ABOUT FOR THE REST OF TIME

GOD, what a good way to reveal it. it's fully about her! i love queer romances, of course i do, but i don't think i've ever seen a character come out without a romance being their reason for doing so (however indirectly). i still think she should've gotten a date with the client from 1x05, but i really liked this too.

this episode just felt like a love letter to fandom, and i love that. i love how much it shone through. i'm used to writers specifically going out of their way to make fun of fans and laugh at them, so it was just. really nice to have someone stand up and go, no, this is important for a reason! people love this for a reason! it MEANS something!

very fun to watch eliot swordfight. very fun to watch sophie recite a sonnet in her classic fashion. very fun to watch parker work at being a good mentor. breanna was so excited about the card game! they're all so good!

oh, and i guess harry's here too.

EPISODE 7: the double-edged sword job

the "harry is addicted to mobile games, which is a mood" job

hot take alert! i think this is the weakest episode of the season by a LOT. it needed so much more editing. it felt so disjointed, so all over the place. the plot was haphazard but in a muffled way, where you had no idea why they were doing what they were doing. the climax was sudden and didn't make any sense. it was just weird.

i'm not the person to comment on this but it feels kind of lazy to cast an east asian guy to play a socially-awkward tech genius. just a thought.

oh, of course jonathan frakes directed this episode. sometimes his stuff is really good but other times (ahem, ds9 3x02) it's disjointed and all over the place. i'm not even surprised it was him.

idk if i have anything else to say about this. oh! some of the team moments were great -- mostly involving eliot. i loved the moment of him recognizing the headshot, i LOVED the ten seconds of everyone teasing him. he and parker talked about the wellbeing of their friend, the woman whose ex tracked her down!

separate bulletpoint to say how much i LOVED his conversation with breanna outside the house. he's so good at reassuring! he could go deeper there, talking about being better than your worst day, but he knew when not to push! it was so good.

"first off, this guy can't TOUCH hardison" deserves its own bulletpoint because like. y'all. Y'ALL.

EPISODE 8: the mastermind job

the "eliot is more than just a pretty face" job

oh man this post is so much longer than i thought it would be. okay just one more episode and then i'm done.

the callbacks to original leverage were SO well done and made me feel emotions without feeling overbearing.

i didn't like the central premise -- that nate would share so many details with a random insurance agent -- in the first place, but i did like how it allowed them to bring back nate without actually hiring timerty mcasshole.

i liked eliot's insistence that he's more than just the muscle! he is, and it's really good to know, textually, that the writers do too!

me, watching the resolution of the episode: ah, yeah, insurance fraud. a classic!

harry bonding with his guard had "they don't even have dental!" energy and i am SUCH a fan. i know it was all for the con but also give me harry, unable to stop advising people, even when they're actively holding him hostage

parker! on the phone with hardison!!!! ADORABLE

is it just me or was someone else expecting the accountant's name to be something significant? with the way they led up to it, i was waiting for a "sterling" or something else. my sensors were pinging for another tara reveal. i'm still convinced we're gonna get this guy dramatically revealed in the season finale.

a really nice episode! i had a lot of fun with it. and now i want to rewatch the rashamon job, but tbh i ALWAYS want to rewatch the rashamon job.

and that's a wrap! overall, a fun season, i enjoyed it a lot. not as solid as original leverage, but it's the very beginning, and it was put together during a global pandemic, so i'm cutting them some slack. also levar burton is gonna show up at some point. that's a big reason of why i'm cutting them so much slack.

my personal ranking of the episodes is 1x04, 1x06, 1x08, 1x01, 1x02, 1x03, and finally last (and least), 1x07.

what did you guys think of the new season? what was your favorite episode? do you agree with any of my opinions? disagree with any? let me know, please, i'd love to discuss!

[omgrachwrites]

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Five

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that  making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil  but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly  woman.

Warnings: fluff, soft angst, denial of feelings, pining

Words: 2189

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this part! Also, I’ve literally just realised that I’ve passed 300 followers so thank you guys so so much! Let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all xxx

Chapter Five

You rolled your eyes at Lily with a lazy smirk as the both of you waited for the boys to stop stuffing their faces in The Great Hall. Right about now they would most likely be stuffing their pockets full of snacks to have in Transfiguration that afternoon, they’d probably get detention for eating their snacks. Again. Finally, the boys came traipsing out of The Great Hall as if they had all the time in the world. Sirius was scoffing a vanilla cupcake.

“Bloody finally guys,” you giggled as you and your friends walked down the crowded corridors, “Merlin, how many snacks have you got in there?” you asked, gesturing at their bulging robes.

“Want one Y/N?” Sirius asked innocently around a mouthful of cake, you smirked at him before gathering up some vanilla buttercream on your finger before sucking it off, keeping your eyes on Sirius the whole time. He watched, his cheeks deepening to a bright red flush and he made a funny strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Giggling, you punched him in the arm and hung back, fully intending on speaking to Lily. However, before you could get a word out you found yourself face to face with a group of Slytherin girls who were all staring at you.

“Good morning ladies,” Sirius smirked as he walked past them while Remus looked back with a faint blush on his scarred face.

“Run along, Evans, we need to talk to Y/L/N alone,” the tallest one sneered.

Lily looked at you, chewing her lip, she had a worried expression on her face, “I’ll be fine Lil, really can you just tell McGonagall that I’m hung up?” you asked with a brave smile, though you really did feel nervous. Lily nodded before reluctantly walking down the corridor.

You turned back to the Slytherins, your hand gripping the wand in your pocket in case you needed it. You noticed that all of the girls were very pretty. Though, one girl was at the back of the group, she looked very bored to be here.

“You think you’re pretty smart don’t you Y/L/N?” the tallest one snarled again, she was presumably the leader, “you’ve ruined our last year at Hogwarts.”

“Excuse me?” you laughed as you tightened your grip on your wand, “I honestly have got no idea what you’re going on about.”

“This stupid bet that you’ve got going on with Sirius is what we’re on about,” another girl piped up, her brown eyes flashing menacingly, “you want him all to yourself don’t you?”

You seriously couldn’t believe that you were having this conversation right now, if you weren’t so confused it would actually be really amusing, “oh no, you see,” you giggled, “you’ve got the wrong end of the stick entirely. This whole bet thing is just a bit of fun,” and it was but you knew that Sirius was stubborn and he couldn’t resist a challenge.

“Still, I tried to come onto him the other day and he rejected me, he’s never done that before,” the leader said with a note of hurt in her voice, “there’s only one reason why he would do that and it’s not because of some stupid bet. He’s in love with you, haven’t you seen the way he looks at you when he thinks that no one else sees?”

That had to be the funniest thing that you’d heard all year. Surely you would know if one of your best friends was in love with you, wouldn’t you? You sighed as you rolled your eyes, you shouldn’t have had to explain yourself but you did anyway.

“Sirius is not in love with me, I don’t even know if he can love anybody, we’re just friends. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to class,” you shook your head, feeling completely bewildered at the conversation.

“You’d better watch your back Y/L/N, especially at the Quidditch match tomorrow,” one of them called after you.

Thankfully, you arrived at Transfiguration only a couple of minutes late, McGonagall looked at you sternly, her thin lips were pursed but she didn’t say anything. Sirius smirked at you as you sat down next to Lily. McGonagall announced that they were going to be starting human transfiguration, beginning with changing their hair colour. The class murmured with great interest as McGonagall taught them the incantation and the correct wand movement.

Your spirits were not dampened despite the fact that you – and the rest of the class – were only able to change the length of your hair, rather than the colour. You giggled as Lily’s hair was now a pixie cut, “hey, that really suits you.”

“Thanks Rapunzel,” she grinned at you. Your hair now reached the floor, you didn’t know what to do with so much hair but you kind of liked it.

Just as you were about to get to work on changing your hair back to its original state, you heard a couple of girlish giggles a few desks over from you. You gazed over to the other side of the classroom to see what all the commotion was about and your breath got stuck in your throat. Sirius was cockily smirking at his reflection in the hand mirror that he was holding and he was running his fingers through his hair. It was quite a lot shorter and it was more tousled than it usually was.

The surrounding gaggle of girls were all gazing at him adoringly, causing you to roll your eyes, he never missed a chance to show off. Almost as if he could feel your eyes on him, he turned to face you and winked, it was stupidly unfair how he looked even more handsome with the short fluffy hair he was currently sporting.

“Like what you see Y/N? Are you finally ready to admit that you fancy me?” he smirked, resting his hand on his chin as he stared at you.

“Mr Black,” McGonagall began in a warning voice.

You ignored McGonagall, scoffing at Sirius’ words, “pur-lease, me have a crush on you? No way.”

At your words, the group of girls gasped, Remus and Peter snorted while James just looked uncomfortable. Sirius laughed it off and if you hadn’t turned away you would have seen the pained look that flashed across his face. McGonagall sighed as she looked at you both, unbeknownst to you and Sirius; she had an ongoing bet with Slughorn on when you would finally get together. They’d first made the bet in your 5th year.

Later on that evening, you and Lily were sitting in front of the roaring common room fire as you told her about the Slytherin girl’s ambushing you.

“So, let me get this straight, they had a problem with you because they think that Sirius has a thing for you?” she recited and you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the gist of it.”

Lily’s emerald eyes scanned your face, “well, maybe they have a point Y/N,” she held up her hands in mock defence as you glared at her, you couldn’t believe that she was taking their side, “just hear me out, okay? He’s been pouting all afternoon because of what you said in Transfiguration,” her voice lowered as the boys came to join you; she smiled as James kissed her.

Sirius sat in the armchair opposite you, it was true enough that he’d been in a mood all afternoon but it wasn’t your fault, not when he could have any girl he wanted.

“Lighten up Sirius, are you seriously in a mood because I told you that I don’t have a crush on you?” you wanted to make light of the situation, it would certainly make you feel better, “I thought your ego needed a bit of deflating,” you giggled.

“This has got nothing to do with my ego,” he muttered, staring into the fire, “but don’t worry, I’m just being silly,” he shot you a smile that didn’t quite reach those pretty eyes.

You sighed as guilt swirled around in your stomach.

-------------------------------------

The following day, the morning of the first Quidditch game, Sirius was walking down to breakfast on his own, he had woken up late to find that his friends had gone down to breakfast without him. He didn’t realise that he had fake friends. Sirius was so hungry; he was craving something with chocolate or an extremely sugary cereal.

On the way down to breakfast, he ran into something twice as sweet, Y/N. He felt a funny fluttering feeling in his stomach as she smiled at him prettily, though he blamed it on the fact that he was so hungry.

“Hi Y/N,” he grinned and noticed that she was carrying a covered tray, “how are you feeling?”

She grimaced, it didn’t look like she was feeling too good, “nervous, I’ve been up for hours,” she laughed weakly as she chewed on her lip, “these are for you by the way,” she blushed as she uncovered the tray to reveal the most delicious looking chocolate brownies that Sirius had ever seen, “I made them this morning to say thank you for helping me get onto the team.”

Sirius chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair as he took the tray from her, “you really didn’t need to do that but thank you so much,” he blushed, it was an incredibly sweet gesture, “and hey, you were an absolute pleasure to teach,” he smirked. She rolled her eyes but still leaned up to plant a kiss on his warm red cheek anyway.

At breakfast, Sirius helped Lily and Remus finish off the banner that they had created for the match; Remus had drawn a picture of a lion devouring a snake. Remus also stole Sirius’ brownies, pretending not to notice the way that Sirius was glaring at him.

“I’m not hungry James, please I know you mean well but can you stop it? It feels like I’m going to be sick,” Y/N mumbled with her head in her hands. James sighed sympathetically as he rubbed her back. Even though Sirius knew that Y/N couldn’t see him, he smiled at her. No matter what the score came out as, he knew that she would be great.

It seemed like all too soon for before they were walking down to the pitch, Y/N had a sickly tinge to her skin and she wasn’t talking to anybody. Sirius smiled at her before going to sit in the stands with the others, “don’t worry, Y/N. You’re gonna be so great, I know it,” she smiled weakly at him, giving him a quick hug before she followed James into the changing rooms.

“Oh, could you get any more obvious? It’s revolting,” Regulus smirked as he stalked past his older brother. Sirius scoffed, he didn’t know what Regulus was talking about because it was Regulus who had a schoolboy crush on Y/N. He pulled a tongue at the back of Regulus’ head before running to catch up with Remus, Lily and Peter.

The atmosphere was electric as the long awaited Quidditch players finally flew onto the pitch, there were far more cheers than boos. Everybody, well almost everybody wanted to see Gryffindor win the first match of the season, a win would give Sirius and his friends another reason to celebrate at the Halloween feast and Hogsmeade the following day.

Sirius couldn’t see Y/N properly but he could tell that she was smiling; he imagined that her eyes were alight with excitement. He knew that she was completely comfortable now she was up in the air. The game was very exciting, even to begin with, in the first few minutes James scored an amazing goal.

Lily was so happy as she screamed, “that’s my boyfriend!” Sirius just knew that she would be rewarding James for that later on.

Halfway through the game, the crowd gasped in shock as a Slytherin beater aimed a bludger at a Gryffindor chaser, causing him to drop the Quaffle. The Gryffindor’s nose exploded but he soldiered on, refusing to let James call time out. Y/N was certainly pulling out the impressive moves as she looped and swerved, in search of the snitch. Sirius hated to think it but Y/N had her work cut out for her, Regulus was also an excellent seeker.

The young man gasped his heart in his mouth as Regulus and Y/N very nearly collided in the air, he shouted out his admiration, feeling extremely proud when Y/N expertly swerved to avoid Regulus. It was a very close match, Slytherin was leading by fifty points, Sirius was silently praying for Y/N to catch the snitch soon.

After ten more extremely tense minutes, Y/N’s nimble fingers closed around the tiny struggling ball. Sirius whooped and cheered along with Remus and Peter when he realised that Gryffindor had won while Lily sobbed on his shoulder. He looked up and grinned when he saw James and Y/N celebrating with their team, Y/N looked so young and beautiful as she hugged James. Sirius knew that she would always stay that way, for as long as she lived.

------------------------------------- 

@approved-by-dentists @thefuturelawyer @a-miserable-hufflepunk @firelordmillie @seriouslysiriuss @sleep-i-ness @play-morezeppelin​ @pregnant-piggy @sleepingalaska @smiithys @blisfvll​ @rexorangecouny​

[nearlymanaged]

21. The Long Wait and James’ Exasperation

“Remus!” Suzy, a bespectacled Gryffindor sixth year with enchanted flowers braided into her hair, caught up with him. 

“Hey,” Remus stopped, holding the portrait hole open for her.

“Thanks…” She breathed out as she climbed in with an armful of assorted spellbooks, quills, parchment, and ink bottles. “My bag broke today,” she explained.

“I’m sorry,” he offered a genuine smile. “My bag’s broken once, too. Granted, it was being held by James and Sirius. Who were flying on two separate brooms at the time. So maybe not quite the same...”

Suzy let out a tickled laugh and almost dropped half of her things just then. Remus, however, reacted in time and, with a flick of his wand, lifted all of the weight out of the girl’s arms. “Thanks again,” she beamed.

“No worries. Well, have fun with…” he gently pushed one of the books, floating mid-air, out of the way, “History of Magic,” he said after a glance at the cover. “Ah yes, the class that, six years in, has taught me how to take notes while napping…”

Suzy laughed again, taking over the steering of her possessions with her own wand now. “That’s actually hilariously accurate… Maybe we could work on our homework together sometime, for moral support?”

“I do lead a study group every Thursday… Although lately, it’s been more like every once in a blue moon, whenever we can squeeze it into everyone’s schedules...”

“Maybe you and I can have a private study group then?”

“Er…” Remus stammered while his brain worked to figure out whether Suzy was asking him out or genuinely trying to get some help with homework. For some reason, he thought, the older he got, the harder it was to read anyone. “I’m absolute shite at History of Magic..?” He attempted with a shrug.

“Then maybe I can tutor you some?” 

Ah… It certainly sounded like the girl’s interests spanned beyond homework. A mild panic was setting in as Remus tried to come up with an appropriate response, but nothing came to mind. So he decided to just go for it, as clumsy and awkwardly as he knew it would come out. 

Thing was, Remus never really came out to people. Yes, obviously he had been open about his sexuality with Vincent, and at this point, most (if not all) of his friends had caught on, and, matter of fact, he didn’t care if the whole school knew. He felt like a bit of a freak anyway, what’s another thing to add to the list? He just never went around talking about it. In all fairness, it was probably because he’d gotten used to keeping it to himself at home, with his dad around. He could hardly imagine having that conversation with his family (“Hey dad, guess what? I’m gay!”) so he had sort of pushed that idea aside and moved on altogether. But now, he inhaled deeply in anticipation...

“Suzy... I’m…”

“Alright, I’ll just say it… I just need a couple of bottles of butterbeer and I…”

“...ga-- What?” Remus froze all of a sudden, only his eyelids fluttering in a rapid succession of baffled blinks.

“Did you...just say you’re gay?” Suzy peered at him, looking no less confused than he felt.

“I…er...”

“I knew it,” someone uttered in a group of fifth years flocking around the nearest sofa.

“Nevermind that,” Remus mumbled while wishing to literally die right then and there. “You said you need butterbeer?”

“Ehm, yes. I know that you and your friends know where to get some…” Suzy, very graciously, employed a facial expression determined to ignore Remus’ little outburst.

He hastily assured her that he’d talk to his friends and get some butterbeer for her during their next expedition to a mysterious source that Suzy had no business knowing anything about anyway. Still feeling the burning embarrassment pulsing all the way from the pit of his stomach to the top of his head, Remus turned to run upstairs to put his stuff away and maybe suffocate himself with a pillow while he was at it. Before he could leave the scene of his mortification, however, he was beckoned over by the very giggly duo of Lily and Dorcas.

“Rem, did you just yell ‘I’m gay’ at--”

“Five points from Gryffindor.”

Lily let out a loud gasp that somehow ended with an indignant squeal. “James told me you do that…” She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips, but didn’t say another word about the topic.

“Welcome to the club, Remus,” Dorcas grinned at him. “I always knew there was a reason I liked you. Straight people can be so...intense sometimes -- no offense, Lily,” she finished with a smirk.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t judge all straight people based on Potter…”

Both Dorcas and Remus cackled at this. “What about you, miss I Hate This Arrogant Toerag But I’ll Still Spend Every Waking Moment Hanging Out Around Him?” Remus tilted his head rather eloquently with a little quirk of his eyebrows.

“Oh! Please! Pshh!” Lily started shuffling around in her seat with an outraged glare.

“That’s what I’ve noticed, too!” Dorcas beamed at Remus. “She can’t get enough of him lately, can she?”

“You think it has anything to do with him being Quidditch captain?”

“Well, straight people do seem to have a thing about sports…”

“Shut up, you idiots!”

“So - and forgive me for being so blunt - Sirius?” Dorcas beamed at Remus, evidently deciding that Lily’s had enough mortification for the time being.

“What about him?”

“Rumour has it, you’ve got the hots for the Black boy?”

“The rumour’s name wouldn’t happen to be Lily, would it?” Remus shot a pointed glance at the girl in question, but Dorcas merely chuckled at it rather dismissively.

“There’s also the fact that everyone in this school has eyes and ears, Remus. And some of us know how to use them, too. Question is, who’s going to make the first move?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Remus felt a kind of warmth flood over him - against his own logical thought, he couldn’t help but feel pleased to know that other people could see it. “Hard to say,” he mumbled through a grin that refused to be toned down.

“I think it should be you,” Lily stated matter-of-factly.

“How so?”

“Because, obviously, you’re the somewhat more sensible one.”

“I don’t think romance has much to do with sensibility, Lils,” Dorcas leaned back in her seat. “I think it’ll be Sirius. Precisely because he lacks it.”

“What are we, making bets on my life now?” Remus folded his arms over his chest; he only barely resisted the temptation to reference their very secret plan that he wasn’t supposed to know anything about.

“That’s a great idea!” Dorcas cackled at his feigned indignation. 

“All jokes aside,” Lily beamed, “I have a feeling you two will get together soon. It’s Spring, after all. A time for new beginnings.”

“I thought you dropped Divination?” Remus pulled a funny face at her, pretending to be puzzled by her words.

“Yes. But, as Dorcas already pointed out, some of us have functioning eyes and ears.”

“And some of us might even know more than we let on…” Dorcas uttered, a faint smirk curving her lips.

Lily smacked her arm lightly. “Dee!”

“What?”

“What?” Remus echoed, his eyes darting between the two girls.

“Nothing. Dorcas has a strange sense of humour, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh… So anyway, speaking of new beginnings--”

“Oh will you drop it?” Lily cut across him rather sternly. “Even if I did agree to go out with him, so what?” She added quieter.

“Oh? I was going to say, isn’t it strange that the last summer of our Hogwarts years is almost here. But your thing is more entertaining,” Remus shot her a smug grin.

“Remus!”

“What?” He laughed out.

“And she might agree to go out with him sooner than we’d suspect, too.”

“Dorcas!!”

The three of them went on about sensible minds and love and sensible minds in love; mostly courtesy of Lily and Dorcas while Remus was quietly replaying every moment he’d spent with Sirius in the past few days, only occasionally offering a joke or a commentary. This was happiness, he thought. To have friends that cared (enough to devise some sort of a secret plan) and a boyfriend who was one of the best friends he’d ever had and one of the best people he’d ever known. This was happiness - being seventeen and in love and surrounded by good people, and it didn’t even matter that he had just embarrassed himself in front of Suzy and half the Gryffindors.

* * *

Remus looked like there was some kind of a magical glow about him as he sat there - bathed in sunlight streaming in through the high, narrow windows of History of Magic classroom, his chin in his hand, his quill unceasingly taking notes. There certainly was a distinct warm and bright afternoon laziness in the air, which rendered Sirius completely unable to pay the slightest bit of attention to Mr Binns’ monotonous recital of Gargoyle Strike of 1911 facts. 

Instead, his gaze was resting on the side of Remus’ face, quasi-secretly taking in the way the sun glistened in his sand and honey coloured hair, the way that that one scar ran across the bridge of his nose like a vein of ore, the way that his eyelids lowered over his brilliantly green irises, the way his soft, yet always a little chapped lips feebly formed silent words here and there as he wrote them down...

“Sirius, you’re staring.”

“You’re just now noticing?” Sirius purred back at Remus’ whispered observation.

“I was busy taking notes, which you’ll be thankful for later.”

“I’ve been staring at you longer than that.”

“Stop it…” Remus mumbled, quieter now, a slight blush tinting his cheeks and ears, which Sirius noticed to his great delight.

“Surely, you don’t actually mean it, do you?”

“Stop it, Sirius…” He repeated with even less conviction in his voice. 

“What do you think they’re planning? To get us together?” Sirius perked up slightly, genuinely eager to dive into speculation about the topic. In all honesty, anything that had to do with Remus had been his favourite topic lately -- or not so lately.

“I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it too,” the boy’s eyebrows slowly knit together over his thoughtful eyes. “I can’t imagine anything that would require James and Lily to go on a fake date.”

“You can’t use your own logic for this. We need to think like them,” Sirius grinned.

“Ah yes… We must think like someone who’s gotten hit in the head by a bludger more times than I have fingers.”

“Hey!” Sirius protested and then shrugged apologetically, remembering he was in the middle of a classroom. “I’ve gotten hit by a bludger too. Read the room, Moony.”

“So you have. That’s why I talk so slowly whenever you’re around,” Remus whispered and gave Sirius a smile that might have been intended as an expression of mischief but in reality looked more flirtatious than anything else.

“And yet,” Sirius leaned in a little closer, speaking a little quieter, feeling a little giddier, “I happen to be where you choose to lay your affections.”

“I never claimed to be perfect…”

“You’re such a tease, Moony.”

“You bring it out of me,” Remus mumbled as he bit down on his lip, evidently determined to bridle his grin. “When do you think they’ll carry out their secret plan?”

“Hm… I don’t know, there’s not really anything special happening anytime soon. The Quidditch game, maybe?”

“But surely, James can’t be on a fake date with Lily if he’s playing Quidditch?”

“Good point. D’you think they’ll fake an injury? That’s probably very likely, statistically speaking.”

“Statistically speaking?” Remus shot him a curious glance. 

“Fake injuries tend to be the driving force of a lot of our successful pranks, don’t they?” Sirius grinned.

Just then, the bell rang throughout the castle and all the students started getting up from their desks and funneling out into the hallways. Sirius and Remus both shoved their belongings into their bags and started heading for the door of the classroom along with their fellow sixth years.

“Why is Suzy McGregor giving you weird looks?” Sirius gently nudged Remus’ ribcage. “What?” He asked when Remus took a deep breath and sighed.

“I yelled at her..?

“You yelled at her?..”

“That I’m gay…”

“You...pardon?”

“I thought she was trying to ask me out…” Remus kept trailing off as he spoke, determined to slowly but surely power through this embarrassing tale, holding his wide glossy gaze straight ahead as they walked out into the corridor.

“But she wasn’t?” Sirius offered curiously.

“She just wanted some butterbeer…”

“But not on a date with you?”

“No. I’m not invited to drink butterbeer with her.”

“Why’d you--”

“She chose very confusing wording to lead with, alright? And besides,” Remus finally met Sirius’ eyes, “it’s not like I don’t ever get asked out by people.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply,” Sirius smiled brightly. “I mean, I asked you out myself, didn’t I? What?” His expression clouded over with a confused kind of smile when Remus laughed.

“I wouldn’t exactly call that asking someone out.”

“Well you should look up the definition of asking someone out because that was exactly it!”

“You asked me to help you with homework. Exactly like you’ve done dozens of times before.”

“If not hundreds. But that’s not the point,” Sirius whispered hastily as they were overtaken by a group of Ravenclaw sixth years. “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to whatever Vincent would have done,” he blurted out without thinking.

“Vincent?” Remus repeated that name as if he’d never heard it before, to Sirius’ vague delight. “What’s he got to do with anything?” He was smiling now.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty fond of him…” Sirius trailed off this time, unsure where he was going. For some reason, all of a sudden, he simply wanted to know that he was more important and special to Remus than the French git -- which was a ridiculous thought, seeing as they’d been inseparable friends for years.

“I think that’s a bit of an overstatement.”

“It is?”

“Are you jealous?” A big smile blossomed over Remus’ mouth as he uttered the question.

“Should I be?” Sirius shrugged nonchalantly as he thought to himself that he was, he absolutely was.

“Sirius.”

“Remus?”

Without another word (albeit with a roll of his eyes), Moony grabbed Sirius’ hand and swiftly dragged him into the nearest classroom - which conveniently happened to be one that they often counted on to be empty, for it hadn’t been used for lessons in at least two years.

Before he could figure out what was happening, Sirius found himself pinned against a cold stone wall. Remus’ left hand traveled up to touch his face, ever so gently, to rest along his jawline, as he kissed him slowly and deliberately. Sirius was dimly aware of Moony’s other hand holding his, their fingers laced through each other loosely, yet without intention to let go. He couldn’t comprehend how he had spent so many years without being kissed by this beautiful boy like that. 

When Remus pulled away slightly, just enough for their foreheads and noses to still touch, Sirius managed to stammer out, “Moony?”

“Mhm?”

“Where...where did you learn to do this?”

Remus recoiled now, a sheepish smile painted across his beautiful, flushed face. “Sod off, Padfoot.” He turned around on his heel.

“No, I’m serious!” The black haired boy followed him out into the corridor, a giddy grin crowning his own features. “Is this how you kiss other people too?”

“I don’t kiss other people, Sirius…” Remus narrowed his eyes ever so slightly when the other boy caught up with him.

“But in the past!”

“Are you...are you retroactively jealous?”

“Only if you have kissed other people like that,” Sirius mumbled, only half jokingly.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to conduct a survey to see what they have to say.”

“Such a tease,” Sirius smirked at his boyfriend. 

He felt so in love and so happy as they walked towards one of the moving staircases. It almost seemed to him as though there had to be a catch to it, as though complete bliss like this wasn’t meant to be free. But whatever the price could be, all he cared about were those green eyes, full of joy and love.

“Oi, Sirius!” James’ voice bellowed over the excited clamour of the hallways. “I’ve been-- Are you two alright?” His demeanor changed instantly when he approached the two boys.

“Yeah, why?” Remus shrugged while Sirius continued to float in the pleasant haze of his own mind.

“Pads is clinging to your arm… Are you hurt?”

“Oh, that,” Remus chuckled and gently peeled Sirius’ fingers off from around his forearm. To Sirius’ own surprise, however, he couldn’t remember how or when his fingers ended up wrapped around it in the first place. “I think I might have broken him…”

“What did you do?” 

“I, er…”

“I’ll tell you later, Prongs,” Sirius finally rejoined the reality and their conversation. “So what about you and Evans?” He asked, foolishly - and very much aware of it - hoping that he could nudge James and his mysterious plan into motion a little faster.

“What do you mean?”

“When are you going to get together?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t you been telling me to forget about her and get over it at least once a week for the past year?”

“Nonsense! Have you been asking her out lately?”

“No…” James narrowed his eyes.

“You were looking for him?” Remus reminded with a nod towards Sirius.

“Ah, yes… Bad news - Quidditch is postponed until next week.”

“Why?” Sirius attempted to sound somewhat interested in the topic, while in all honesty, he was starting to become impatient about an entirely different thing. 

“There was a break in at one of Hogsmeade shops. The school,” James uttered these words rather contemptuously, “feels it would be unwise to have the overwhelming majority of pupils out in the open grounds so close to a suspected Death Eater attack.”

“How dare the school,” Remus nodded with a solemn expression; a heartwarming attempt at solidarity.

Sirius, in the meantime, was getting lost in his head again. He was thinking about how much he wanted to tell James that Remus kissed him in Hogsmeade. He wanted all his friends to know. And he wanted to hold Remus’ hand all the time and kiss him whenever he wanted. Sneaking around might have sounded exciting in theory, but he didn’t think that now. And not only that - he wanted everyone to know that they were together, he wanted the whole school to see him with Moony and to realise just how much luckier Sirius was than all of them. He wanted all the students to talk about how much they loved each other and what a lovely couple the two made. He wanted the whole staff to be on the lookout for the snogging in the hallways. He wanted to be able to share his intoxicating happiness with everyone and anyone.

* * *

James pushed a couple of second years out of his way as he darted through the portrait hole, into the common room. He threw a half-hearted apology at them, without so much as a glance, as he made a beeline for the far corner of the room, where a collection of old, red velvet clad furniture crowded around the fireplace.

“Why is everyone talking about how Remus Lupin came out as gay in the common room?!” He stopped in front of the boy in question, his hands on his hips, a subconscious mirror of his mother.

“Wh-- Who’s talking about it?” Remus scrunched his nose, his body frozen halfway through a flinch, the book that he had been reading now lying face up in his lap.

“Who’s...he’s asking me who’s…” James muttered bitterly. “My sources, alright?”

“Your sour--”

“Why am I, once again, forced to learn about things like that from other people?!”

“I didn’t--”

“How do you think that makes me look!?”

“I--”

“Makes me look like a bad friend, Remus! Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

“No…”

“Then why wouldn’t you tell me before you start going around telling the whole school?”

“I didn’t--”

“Nevermind that, I have to go send an owl to my parents to stop asking you about girlfriends.”

“Oh, it’s really alright, they’ve only asked a handful of times--” Remus mumbled feebly, obviously very confused by James’ outburst.

“A handful too many!”

“Prongs, it’s hones--”

“They might start pestering you about boyfriends though…”

“That’s...that’s fine with me, James,” Remus smiled brightly out of the blue.

“Hm, I’ll think about it… Either way, I need to ask for more of mum’s flapjack…”

“You do that, James.”

“I hope you didn’t not tell me that you’re gay because you thought I’d do something ridiculous, like disapprove or give a broom riding fuck at all, honestly. Unless you started fancying me...you know my heart belongs to Evans.”

“I know, James,” Remus was positively radiant now.

“Good. Right. I’ll go send that owl then. Jaffa Cakes?” James lingered on the spot.

“That’d be lovely. Send your parents my love.”

“Will do. Sorry for raising my voice,” he added after a moment’s consideration.

“That’s quite alright.”

“Let me know if anyone gives you grief about it.”

“Thanks, James,” Remus beamed at him, at which he nodded and turned around on his heel.

Now that he’d gone through with the confrontation, his mind was catching up with what had happened - he had overheard a handful of Gryffindors talking about Remus and how he had told Suzy McGregor that he’s gay. Of course, James was aware of Remus’ sexuality, he just never talked to him about it - he wanted to give his friend all the time and space he needed rather than force him to come out if he wasn’t ready. And when he heard those kids talking about it, he couldn’t help but feel hurt; hurt that Remus didn’t feel like he could talk to James, perhaps?

And - just like most things James would get riled up about - now it turned out to not be a big deal at all. Once he paused to think about it, James realised that more than anything, he was worried that Remus would feel like he needed to hide his sexuality just like he’d been hiding his lycanthropy. And if that ever turned out to be the case, he silently swore to himself to do anything he could to make Remus feel like he didn’t have to be ashamed about any part of his wonderful existence.

As James was crossing the common room, deep in thought, he almost walked right past Sirius, who had just descended from the dormitories. 

“Were you aware that Remus is, in fact, very much not straight?” James grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. 

“Er…” Sirius briefly stared off across the room before returning his gaze to James’ face. “Vaguely.”

“As in, he’s very much gay.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Did he already tell you!?” James gasped.

“Not exclusively, no.”

“Well? Aren’t you happy about it?!”

“Oh! Yes, very!” Sirius nodded a tad too vigorously.

“Do you not fancy him anymore?” James screwed up his face in confusion. He’d been finding himself growing more and more exasperated lately; he couldn’t figure out why his two friends were being such idiots and was beginning to put more and more stock into Lily and Peter’s plan.

“Oh no, I do. I very much do.”

“Why won’t you just tell him?!” James whispered hotly, gesturing his arms around.

“Oh, you know,” Sirius shrugged, “because we’re friends and all that jazz, I guess.”

“Are you sure you still fancy him?”

“Yes. Aren’t you?”

“You haven’t been whining about him lately.”

“I don’t whine, excuse you,” Sirius puffed out his chest dramatically.

At this, James let out an amused laugh. “Sure. You want to walk to the owlery with me?”

“Uh…” Sirius stared off again. “I needed to talk to Remus, actually. About the study group thing...”

“You know, if the boy doesn’t figure out that the only reason you attend his study groups is so that you could stare at him, then maybe I’ve overestimated his intelligence…”

“How dare you,” Sirius popped his eyes in another facetious gesture. “I care about my education, that’s all.”

“Mhm.” James arched his eyebrows and watched Sirius walking away for a few moments before continuing on his way.

Some thirty minutes later, James was back at the portrait hole, giving the Fat Lady the password, when Lily caught up with him.

“Potter,” she nodded with comical gravitas.

“Evans,” he mirrored her. “Coming back from a Dorks Anonymous meeting?” He cast a glance at the stack of books in her arms.

“Is that your new seduction tactic?” She squeezed past him, through the portrait hole into the common room.

“Is it working?”

Lily opened her mouth, as if about to say something, but then just laughed, melting James’ heart just a tad more.

“Say, have you noticed anything strange about Remus and Sirius?”

“Yes, actually,” she stepped aside, out of the way of people climbing in and out the common room entrance, and turned to James. “I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but they seem to have started acting a lot less...annoying?”

“Yes!” James grabbed Lily’s shoulders excitedly and gave her a light shake. “Sirius hasn’t been whining...at all, really. ”

“And Remus isn’t staring at Sirius with that pining look at mealtimes. In fact, I saw him hand feed Sirius at lunch the other day.”

“I’ve seen Remus braid Sirius’ hair at least three times this week.”

“I’m so confused… Why won’t they just get it over with and get together?”

“You know, I’m starting to think your plan will prove to be a necessity…”

“Oh, interesting.” Lily shuffled her weight on one foot and raised an eyebrow as she shot him a sly smirk. “I seem to remember you calling it a waste of our time.”

“Can’t hurt to try, can it?” James shrugged defensively, trying not to stare at her lips too obviously as he did.

“Well, we’ve just got a couple more weeks before the next Hogsmeade trip. We’ll have to start thinking about how to fake this date,” Lily grimaced.

“I do have feelings, you know. You could at least pretend to not be repulsed by the idea,” James pouted.

“I’m not! That’s not what I mean…”

“I’m just yanking your wand, Evans,” he chuckled and fell into step beside her when she started for their usual corner of the common room. 

Before they even reached their friends, they exchanged very eloquent looks at the sight of Sirius perched up on the armrest of Remus’ chair - they seemed to have formed a new habit of sharing a seat whenever they could get away with it (anytime they weren’t in class).  

“Sirius,” Lily squinted at him, “are you wearing Remus’ sweater vest?..”

James’ eyes darted to Sirius, his face screwing up in a horrible realisation that he had somehow missed that detail up until then.

“This?” Sirius tugged at the hem of it. “Yep.”

“But…” James peered at him. “You always make fun of it. You hate it, don’t you!?”

“Hate it!? Dear Merlin, of course I don’t hate it.”

“I’ve literally heard you describe this exact piece of clothing as a ‘poor shoe shiner child’s uniform’, multiple times.”

“Dragondung, I would never say that.”

“No, actually,” Remus interjected with a very indulgent smirk, lowering his book in his lap, his index finger marking the page, “I too remember you saying those exact words.”

[feed-your-neopets]

Valdemar x Devil!Lucio Fluff (One-shot)

Writer Preface:

First, I haven’t written fanfiction in years. Nor have I read a book recently. So, don’t feel bad about pointing out grammar mistakes or spelling mistakes. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this. Also, my knowledge of the science and medical world is pitiful. Please, let me know if I said something ridiculous.

Second, it is cannon that Lucio has a New Jersey accent. It may enhance the story to imagine him with it, because I did while writing this.

Third, this is just slow, awkward, fluffy Valdemar x Lucio stuff. I was trying to piece together how a relationship could even develop between them, and I love the challenge of unlikely, cursed pairings. I was thinking this would probably take place in Muriel’s route (so, smoll SPOILERS from this point on). I would think Lucio’s social circle would be dwindling since – ya know – he merged with the Devil and all. Lucio would definitely be longing for friendship and companionship. Valdemar will humor him if it means they get new things to study. Get that bag, Valdemar.

---

The salon was one of the few rooms left in the palace where one could find some peace. Ironic, as this room was once one of the livelier places in the palace. After all, the salon was where Countess Nadia would entertain her guests. Now, it was an echo of its former self.

Since his resurrection and merging with the boss, Count Lucio ran with a different crowd, and these new guests had a habit of “borrowing”. Not that Valdemar cared about the state of the rooms throughout the palace, nor the drunkards who sloppily paraded through the hallways with pockets full of silverware. However, the room was simply lacking. It was not quite the same without Countess Nadia’s fingers gliding across the ivory keys with precision and grace. Instead of the haunting melodies of a grand piano and the idle chatter of the other courtiers, the room was filled with the distant echoes of intoxicated partygoers reciting a rather impolite folk song about a sea captain’s cousin.

However, Valdemar was paying little attention to the commotion outside and quietly sipped their tea. They chose instead to focus on the decorating choices they felt were an improvement. For example, the dying flowers wilting in waterless vases were a nice touch. Additionally, the portrait that Count Lucio had commissioned in his mother’s likeness had some alterations. It was laying waste on the ground below where it was once proudly hung. The vandalism was done with such intention that Valdemar was certain the count had crossed out the eyes himself. Valdemar pondered if he had done so in a fit of rage. The count had such a temper, and judging from his interaction with his mother, there was a lot of emotional baggage to unpack. While the symbolism was a tad on the nose, Valdemar appreciated the irony none-the-less. It was Lucio who murdered his own mother. It was only fitting he should be the one to remove the light from her portrait’s eyes too.

Without much warning, the doors of the salon burst open with a bang; shaking the few portraits that still hung on the walls. Yet, Valdemar sat unflinching despite the abrupt entrance from the count.

“Alright, I’ll catch you guys later.” called Count Lucio to a chorus of guttural cheers and whooping from the end of the hall. Valdemar peered at the count from over their teacup as they took a long sip. They had been wondering what was taking the count so long. He had been the one who had requested a meeting with them. To keep them waiting seemed in poor taste.

“Crazy guys.” chucked Lucio to himself before turning his attention to Valdemar. “Hey, there you are! Where have you been? You weren’t at last night’s party. You missed Vulgora tackling several new recruits. You should have seen them go at it. We were taking bets and everything.”

“Hm.” hummed Valdemar as they peered into their teacup, finding more interest in the way the tea leaves settled to the bottom of their cup than Lucio’s story. However, Lucio did not seem to notice as he reenacted the punches and kicks of last night’s tussle; knocking over a chair in the process. “But hey, don’t worry about missing it. They’ll probably do it again tomorrow night. You’re gonna love it.”

“I am sure, my count.” lied Valdemar.

Lucio seemed convince Valdemar was genuine, and with an exaggerated groan, he slumped into the chair next to them. Valdemar watched as he adjusted the scabbard on his waist, the end of which clanked aggressively on the hardwood floor. His legs then spread out for maximum comfort as he sunk into his seat. It would seem he was finally situated, and he looked merrily back at Valdemar expecting them to speak first. The quaestor closed their eyes. Admittedly, their patience was wearing thin. With a short sigh, they placed their teacup on the table and prepared themselves to address the count.

“Is there a reason you have called me here today, my count?” asked Valdemar as politely as they could muster.

A spark of realization lit in Lucio’s eyes. “Oh, yeah, that’s right! I gotcha something.” said Lucio as he started rummaging through a small satchel. “I felt like we left it kinda weird at that old broad’s house, and I been wanting to make it up to you.”

“Old broad?” whispered Valdemar to themself as they searched their lexicon for a translation.

“Yeah, you remember. I gave you her heart. I was weird about it, but you were just asking for your payment.” explained the count. “It is nothing amazing, really. You probably have twenty of ‘em, but I was traveling through the market, and I saw it, and I thought - do you know who would like this? Quaestor Valdemar - so, I got it. No big deal, ya know?”

From his bag, Lucio pulled out an adult human skull. Embedded in the eye sockets were large rubies that burned in the orange glow of the setting sun. The count placed his gift in Valdemar’s hand, who made quick note of the condition in which the skull was in. In short, it was nearly perfect. The dental work was most fascinating to Valdemar. Not a single tooth was crooked or missing. No sign of disease or decay. Whoever extracted this specimen knew what they were doing. Valdemar was so transfixed by the skull, they almost forgot Lucio was still in the room.

“Yeah, I thought you like that.” said Lucio as he leaned forward in his chair. “I got that off a guy who was selling all kinds of wild, kooky stuff.”

Valdemar was quiet as they studied the skull. They were far more impressed by the specimen itself than the embellishments. Gemology was not at the top of their list of the most appealing subjects, and frankly, they thought the rubies were rather gaudy.

As they pondered the feasibility of extracting the gemstones without damaging the bone, a visibly nervous Lucio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the silence between them.

“I -uh- I got it because the eyes remind me of your eyes.” said Lucio. As the words left his mouth, he instantly wished he had just swallowed them instead. He was not prepared for Valdemar's undivided attention. Their eyes were fixed on Lucio. Their expression was blank. Their entire form was eerily motionless. He immediately felt the need to elaborate. “Ya know, because the rubies are pretty - pretty like your eyes.”

To Lucio’s relief, the compliment was enough to break their stare. No one had ever called their eyes pretty before. Creepy. Unsettling. Unnatural. But never pretty. Pretty was a meaningless word. Pretty was objective. Pretty could not be measured. Pretty was unscientific. Yet, the word bounced around in their mind, unextrapolated and uncategorized. Valdemar wanted to dissect its meaning. They wanted Lucio to elaborate. What did it mean to have pretty eyes?

"Hey, is that thing broken?" asked Lucio. who had unknowingly grounded Valdemar from their slow spiral into the definition and interpretation of the word pretty.

"Pardon?" asked Valdemar.

"Did that bastard give me a busted skull?" asked Lucio gesturing to a fissure starting from the bottom of the eye socket across the cheekbone.

Realizing what the count was referring to Valdemar had to stifle a laugh. "No, that is a zygomaticomaxillary suture. You'll notice the second one, right here." They turned the skull to allow Lucio to see the other fissure reflected on the other cheekbone.

"Oh, so it's okay then? It's not broken?" asked Lucio.

"This specimen is in excellent condition." reassured Valdemar. A moment passed between them before the quaestor softly cleared their throat, and managed a polite thank you to the count. They fully intended to investigate the skull further for any clues of what may have lead to the specimen’s demise. They loved a good mystery. Afterwords, it would look lovely in their display cabinet - pretty ruby eyes and all.

“Right, so that guy I got this skull from. He has other things too. Goopy things in jars. Dead things in jars. Dead things out of jars. Drawings of bones and meaty parts. Books. Does any of that sound interesting to you?” asked Lucio.

Valdemar considered Lucio’s offer before replying, “I suppose that I am always in search for new specimens to add to my collection. Additionally, this could be an opportunity to ask the merchant where the rest of the remain’s of this specimen can be found.”

Their response seemed to greatly please the count as he leaned back in his chair. For the past few nights, he had done nothing but party - which he loved to do, and would surely want to do again - but sitting with Valdemar, as the sun lowered into the horizon felt nice. Not to mention, they knew a lot, which Lucio appreciated. Having them around could be quite helpful to keeping his kingdom. Additionally, he was curious as to what was under their bandages. His money was on horns, but it would be fun to confirm his suspicions.

“Great, I’ll take you down there sometime.” said Lucio. “And, if you see anything you like, consider it yours.”

While material possessions never interested Valdemar, the idea of discovering something new was quite alluring. Perhaps, the merchant had a sealed jar of an entirely forgotten disease, or maybe they would uncover an ancient tomb that described a real account of an unsolved death of an entire village. The more they thought about it, the more exciting the prospect became.

“Would now be an appropriate time?” asked Valdemar who had moved to the edge of their seat. Their body was stiff with anticipation, as they leaned over ever so slightly towards him. A coy smile spread on Lucio’s face. He knew the moment he agreed, Valdemar would be sprinting for the door. Frankly, it seemed cruel to make them wait another moment for his answer.

“I’ll have someone fetch two cloaks and a carriage.”

END.

[byorder-fanfic]

Jesus Household Headcanons

A/N: I know that in Heaven Hears, I mentioned that Jeremiah’s wife died giving birth, but I really wanted a happy and alive Jesus family in this one.

If I’ve said anything offensive or incorrect, I apologise and would appreciate it if you could correct me so I can change it. 

 I’m trying out a new format, hope you enjoy! Xx

Jeremiah was the stereotypical Church boy who somehow managed to become best friends with the Peaky Blinders and the Shelby family. When he finished school, Rose got Arthur Sr to give him a job as a bookkeeper 

He met his wife, Angela, at Church when he was twenty-ish, He was a flustered mess, bless him, stuttering and faffing with his shirt sleeve. Angela, however, is all confidence and smirks (where else did Isaiah get it from?) as she asked him to go to the pictures with her

The rest is pretty much history. They were the cutest couple in Small Heath, giving each other pet names and picking up flowers for their dates

When they got married, Rose Shelby asked whether he’d got her up the duff, resulting in a whole lot of Good Christian Boy jokes that the entire Shelby clan tease him about- even Pol!

Angela found it funny when the Shelbys came over to eat, cause they could never stand the spices and her and Jeremiah would have to bite their lips to suppress their giggles as she asked if Tommy wanted another glass of water

Isaiah was a miracle baby. Because of a previous illness, they didn’t think Angela could get pregnant. Suffice to say, there was a massive celebration at the Garrison when the doctors confirmed it, and Jeremiah just could not stop smiling

He was born on Christmas Day 1905, and Angela thought it was appropriate that his middle name was Nicholas (Jeremiah didn’t really care what they called him, as long as his baby boy was safe in his arms)

The Shelby brothers take the absolute piss out of him for that and always make fun of the Church boy with Jesus’ name born on Jesus’ birthday. They didn’t stop as Isaiah got older, either, always nicknaming him ‘Emmanuel’ and ‘Christ child’, and John being the little shit he is would also hum like an organ tune under his breath whenever Angela rolled little Isaiah into Watery Lane in his little stroller

Despite the jokes, they all loved Isaiah (especially teenager John, who kept on saying he was going to be the best big brother to little Siah) and Polly always invited Angela around, letting Michael play with the baby, both of them saying how their boys were going to be best friends when they grow up

Since Jeremiah is Jamaican and Angela is a light-skinned black woman who doesn’t know her roots, they raise Isaiah with a blend of their two different cultures, teaching him to be proud of his heritage and his skin colour (he took after his mum in that area too)

Isaiah was a huge mamma’s boy when he was younger, but when Jeremiah came home from war, he never left his side

Finn and Isaiah grew up playing together, since their families were close, and the age difference never seemed to bother them until Isaiah became a teenager and started hanging out more with kids his age, and Michael when he came back

When Jeremiah went to war, he was inconsolable, spending most of the time with Finn, who was equally as distressed for his brothers and uncle. They went to the Cut to cry where no one could see, but then they always went back to Angela, who would hug them both and tell them that it wasn’t unmanly to cry, and then make them some food to get them to smile

Two months after they went to war, Angela found out she was pregnant (there was a huge baby boom that year...I think you can figure out why)

Jeremiah cried when he found out. He was so upset that he wouldn’t be there when the baby was born, or see the baby grow up in those first few years

John was there to console him, as he understood with four kids waiting at home for him, especially the newborn Katie

“We might miss those firsts, mate, and it will be fuckin’ awful when we go back and there’s our child who’s grown so much without us...but, the thing is, we’re fighting for them, Miah. We’re fighting so they can live and so we can go back an be a part of their lives.”

Delilah Rose Jesus was born on Easter Day 1915

As expected, the boys in the trenches took the piss out of him for that too

“Two miracle babies born on holy days! Y’know what boys, I might just start going to Church if God’s as good as that!”

“Freddie, if you ever willingly walked into a Church, you’d set on fire sooner than you could do the sign of the cross!”

Isaiah would always write to his dad about how he was taking care of his little sister, writing things like “Mum let me hold Lilah today when we went to the betting shop and she said I did a really good job, supporting her head and keeping her safe, even if she weighs as much as a sack of potatoes” and, he proudly read this out to the Shelby brothers: “Finn wanted to hold Lilah today but I wouldn’t let him. He had a right paddy but  I reminded him about the Nativity incident and that my baby sister wasn’t plastic and would do more than melt if he dropped her in the candles!”

When they got home, Jeremiah immediately quit his job at the betting shop (he worked the books like his son would eventually take up) to become a preacher. This meant he could stay at home and look after Delilah and Isaiah when Angela went to teach at the local school, and he’d even bring the four year old along when he walked down Small Heath, teaching her the Bible as he recited phrases for everyone to hear

Being black in the 1920s wasn't easy, but with the Shelby protection, the family were always safe. When Isaiah got older, he started working the books in the betting shop and earned himself a cap to keep him and his family safe- it didn’t matter what colour your skin was, no one messed with a Blinder

Although Isaiah did enjoy a lot of the perks of being a Blinder (drinking, girls, parties, snow), his parents were both very proud of him and never tried to tell him he was wrong or sinning (although Jeremiah was always very worried about his son, staying up until he heard him come home)

Alongside his work at the betting shop, Isaiah also helped his dad out at the Church as a youth worker for the kids. Delilah was a part of the group, so he started it out to keep an eye on her, but ended up really enjoying teaching these little kids about the Bible and, since the group had a lot of ethnic minorities in it, he loved being a role model for them and teaching them that God loves them and their skin colour, just as his mum and  dad taught him

Delilah looks a lot like her dad with darker skin and her hair always up in braids since it gets in her face too much otherwise. She was a bit wild, always running about with John’s kids and having fun outdoors, and she loves Charlie’s Yard. She wants to be a mechanic when she’s older, so she always gets Charlie or Arthur to show her how things work

Angela gets Delilah to fix broken clocks and the like, sitting at the table as she watched her daughter take them apart and put them back together

As Isaiah got a better position in the Peaky Blinders and more money, he started to bring back little treats for his family. He bought his dad the rosary that he always wears after Jeremiah’s old one was broken in war. He likes to buy his mum flowers and little pretty things that caught his eye. For Delilah, he got her soft toys and mechanical things for her to wind up and play about with

The Jesus family were happy. There was a lot of danger in their life, with the discrimination in Birmingham and the razor blades in their son’s cap, but they had each other, and that was all that mattered.

[thepandamightwrite]

Jessa Wedding

Word count: 1.7k (this turned out a lot longer than I expected)

Fluff   or    Angst

Stuff to know: A suggen is the person that escorts a shadowhunter to their fiance during the wedding. More info here (You have to scroll down to the wedding part)

Anyway, hope y’all enjoy this cause it was super fun to write! 💕

“Is this really necessary?” asked Jem. “Oh yes, absolutely,” responded Magnus. He was really taking the wedding seriously, as were all the other Shadowhunters. Alec, Jace, Simon, Julien and Emma had accompanied him to the shop where they were getting Jem’s gear specially tailored. He felt it was highly excessive of course, he didn’t really care what he wore as long as he actually got to marry Tessa this time. However, Magnus adamantly refused to listen to any protests and took it upon himself to manage Jem’s wardrobe. “Have you decided who’s gonna be your Suggen for the wedding?” asked Emma. She was incredibly excited for the celebration, and she had nominated herself as the chief wedding planner, a job she took quite seriously. “Ummm what’s a Suggen,” inquired Simon, who wasn’t quite familiar with Shadowhunter weddings yet. “The person that escorts the bride or groom down the aisle, which is a huge honor,” responded Jace, sounding like he was reciting from the Codex. “So, what are you going to do,” asked Alec. Unfortunately, Jem didn’t have an answer for him, after all, the only person he would want to escort him to Tessa had died years ago. A few months ago, he would never have even imagined that he’d be able to get married, and if it ever did happen, he would want Will to be there. Sadly, that was unlikely to happen, so Jem had to pick someone else. Unfortunately, there weren’t many people that he was close with that were still alive. There was Magnus, Emma, and perhaps Jace, although none of them seemed right. “Voila,” Magnus exclaimed. The group gathered and nodded approvingly at the outfit. Even Jem managed a grin through his increasing worry.

“Achooo,” exclaimed Isabelle as the werewolf escorting the tulips out passed her by. “Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry about this,” apologized Tessa, as she had been all afternoon. She had entrusted Ragnor to arrange for some nice flowers, and of course he’d picked the one kind Isabelle was severely allergic to. “Oh don’t worry about it Tessa,” she responded breezily, although her nose was red and her eyes watery due to the constant sneezing. “I’m just excited you’re getting married to Jem, for real this time,” Isabelle squealed before a bout of sneezes overtook her. “Yeah,” chimed Clary, who was festooning the trees with lights. Tessa still couldn’t believe that she was getting married, again, next week. It was almost like a dream, she thought people only got to be with the love of their life once, if they were lucky. She, on the other hand, was able to marry them both. Her heart suddenly ached for her first husband, Will, whom she missed dearly. She had shared everything with him, when he was alive, and she couldn’t have imagined it any other way. It felt wrong somehow, that her wedding with Jem, something she knew Will would be thrilled about, was the one thing she would never tell him. “Tessa!” called Isabelle. “You’ve picked your Suggen, right?” “No, I actually haven’t,” she responded, slightly fatigued with the whole business. “What?! The wedding is tomorrow! You have to decide soon!” exclaimed Clary from the other end of the garden. “Yes, I know, I know,” Tessa sighed. “It’s just that a Suggen has to be someone that is incredibly special to you, and the only person I can think of is no longer alive.” Both the girls looked over at Tessa with sad eyes. “I’m sure Will knows you’re getting married, wherever he is, and he’s going to be ecstatic about it, don’t worry,” consoled Clary. “Yes, you’re right,” Tessa conceded. “I’ll just have to come up with someone else, maybe Magnus….”

Clary, Isabelle, Emma, Jace, Alec and Magnus huddled behind a tree, trying to desperately shield the pentagram from passerby. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” sighed Alec. “Dude, face it, this isn’t even close to the craziest thing we’ve done, am I right?” retorted Jace. “That’s true,” acknowledged Clary with the soft smile she reserved just for her boyfriend. “However, we haven’t exactly tried to bring back the dead.” “We’re not bringing back the dead, just conjuring a ghost. They’re not the same thing,” clarified Magnus, looking up from the spellbook briefly. “Alright, it’s showtime,” he said with a wicked grin.”

Jem couldn’t get his jacket on for some reason. His hands were shaking like butterflies and he lost all his usual dexterity that he’d developed over years of violin playing. “Let me help you with that fy nghariad,” offered a familiar voice. Jem whirled around at the sound of the person he hadn’t heard in a hundred years. He leaned against the doorframe, his mused ink-black hair falling into those familiar piercing blue eyes. “Will,” Jem whispered in disbelief. “How are you even here?” He asked, still unable to comprehend what he saw before him. “Magnus summoned me from the afterlife, yanked me out of an argument with Gabriel too. It was a good one actually, I was definitely winning it, you see-” Will was cut off by Jem running up and swallowing him in the most consuming hug he’d ever been given. They both murmured senseless words of reassurance to each other in hopes of processing the strangeness of it all. They whispered of the day Will won the bet that bound them as parabatai. They hummed of the day they defeated Mortmain. They mumbled of James, Lucie, Charlotte, Henry, Gabriel, Gideon, Sophie and Cecily. They whispered of their friendship and the love that extended through death. And most of all, they muttered of Tessa and the all consuming feelings they both shared for her. And- “ACK!” Will shrieked followed by a string of Welsh curses that would make any sailor whistle with appreciation. He glared down at Church who looked up at Will, his eyes flashing with recognition and mischief. Jem couldn’t help but giggle as he realized the best solution to his and Tessa’s Suggon dilemma.

Tessa stared at her reflection in her mirror. It was her wedding day. She really ought to be more excited, but she couldn’t help but miss the gaze of a certain pair of blue eyes. And then, as if she had summoned him with her thoughts alone, a familiar figure appeared next to her reflection. “Tessa, fy nghariad, oh how I’ve missed you.” She gasped, unable to believe her eyes and ears at the person standing behind her. “Will, how on earth did you get here?” “Well, the door was unlocked so I turned the handle and stepped inside, I’m sure you’re aware of how the mechanism works,” he retorted with his trademark sarcastic drawl. Tessa let out a sob and flung herself into his translucent arms, which were still somehow solid and familiar against her. His hands absentmindedly stroked her back as he murmured,“Tess, my Tessa, you know I’d never miss you and Jem’s wedding for the world for not even death can keep us apart.” Tessa gasped in shock. “Oh no! The wedding! It’s starting now! But I haven’t even picked a Suggen!” Tessa exclaimed in a panic. “What are you talking about my dear, I’m right here,” said Will with a crooked grin.

“Where are they? Jem and Tessa should’ve been here 20 minutes ago,” said Simon, his voice jittery with nerves and his eyes glancing around furtively. “I’m not sure. It’s not like them to be late to anything, much less their own wedding,” mused Isabelle. Out of the group, only Magnus seemed to be at ease, laughing at something Ragnor was saying. Suddenly, Jem appeared and started walking towards the altar. Jace observed with a curious look on his face, after all, no one appeared to be escorting Jem. As he neared their seats however, they noticed the Suggen at his feet. “Church?!?!” Emma sputtered in disbelief. Jem turned and looked at them with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Why yes, he’s one of my closest companions and we’ve been through thick and thin together, so why not?” Jace, Clary, and Isabelle started giggling uncontrollably and soon everyone was joining in. However, Alec was staring incredulously at Jem and soon asked, “What about the ghost we summoned?!?!” Jem looked over his shoulder and grinned. “You’ll see.”

Tessa looked over at Will and was reassured to find his eyes as bright and supportive as they had been when he was alive. He squeezed her hand tightly and they started walking towards her fiance. It was almost poetic really, her deceased husband guiding her toward his parabatai, the only other person whom he trusted to love Tessa. As she walked towards him, Jem ran his eyes over her adoringly and she saw the look of recognition in his eyes when he took in her dress. After all, it was almost identical to the one she’d worn when they slayed Benedict Lightwood, which was her original wedding gown. It felt like time slowed down as she and Will floated towards the person that completed their love triangle (and the cat they hated) and out of the 3 of them, there wasn’t a dry eye in sight. When Tessa went to stand next to Jem, she noticed the strange markings on his gear jacket. Since neither of them were full shadowhunters, they had to adapt the wedding traditions to suit their needs. In his case, what would normally be golden runes on his jacket became motifs of the clockwork angel that had protected her so many centuries ago. “Because I too will never let any harm come to you,” murmured Jem when he noticed Tessa’s expression. 

After reciting their elegant vows that they’d carefully crafted for the occasion, Jem and Tessa finally exchanged rings and kissed, sealing their marriage forever. Will stood smiling off to the side, next to his archnemesis, Church, who was scowling disapprovingly at him. He was absolutely ecstatic, after all, here were two of the most important people in his life committing to a life of joy and togetherness. Although he wasn’t a particularly sentimental person, Will’s vision was warped and swimming through a lens of joyous tears. At last, the ceremony was over and everyone was dancing slowly to the lulling piano music fondly extracted from the delicate instrument by a very handsome blond man. He must be a Herondale, Will thought. After all, that self assured attitude and the love in his eyes when he saw a particularly striking red headed lady could only come from somewhere. Suddenly, two familiar hands clasped at each of his shoulders. Will turned, looked at the loves of his life who looked as content as he’d ever seen them. Wordlessly, they all clasped hands and headed off to be alone.

[crystaljins]

Scissors-Paper-Rock

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis:   The entire station agrees that you have a lot of similarities to Santiago from Brooklyn-nine-nine. But if you’re Amy, then who’s Jake?

Police!au

Notes: This is the final request of my 1000-followers drabbles requests! Once more, I’m so thankful to all of you for such an honour and I hope this is a fun drabble to wrap these all up. I love you all! And sorry to the anon who requested this- I went on holidays and so this story was put on the backburner. But better late-than-never right??

Warnings: Only that I didn’t spell check!

Jungkook’s pouting has been getting more and more on your nerves as of late. On one hand, his wide doe eyes and full lips make the expresssion an adorable one and most people he uses the pout on are ready to offer him the deed to their house or their credit card PIN numbers. 

But he’s also been intermittently pouting throughout the last few days ever since the weekly team outing and it’s starting to be a bit too much. 

It’s a tradition to grab drinks and dinner after a long hard week of work with whoever is free but this week’s outing had consisted of a Brooklyn nine nine marathon to celebrate Taehyung’s newly moved-into house. This, of course had sparked an ongoing discussion which in all honesty you are sick to death of. 

The discussion topic is this: since you are all reasonably competent police officers and since it’s been a quiet week at the station, everyone’s personality has to match with the different Brooklyn nine nine characters, right?

Some are easier than others- Namjoon, as the captain of your team, with a strict and diligent personality to match, is obviously Holt. And Yoongi would rip out a person’s intestines if they stared at him too long before his morning coffee so he is obviously Rosa.

From there it’s a little less black and white. Taehyung is big and friendly, a gentle giant who loves kids which would make him a fantastic Terry but Hoseok is definitely the team dad which makes him better suited for the role. Personality wise, Jin can be Gina on some days and Scully and Hitchcock on others. And while Jimin definitely shows some Boyle characteristics he really has some surprisingly Gina-ish moments.

So there’s plenty of debate with those characters alone- bringing in the coveted roles of Jake and Amy makes things downright chaotic. Which comes to the reason behind Jungkook’s pout. 

Almost as soon as discussions had started, Jungkook had declared himself the most obvious candidate to be a Jake Peralta. Since Jake is the main character and Jungkook is the most interesting and charming person on the force (self-declared), obviously no one but him could be Jake. Unfortunately, Jungkook was not the only one who felt he was main character material. While Yoongi and Namjoon had pretty obvious characters that fit them to a tee, the rest were more gray and thus all roles were up for grabs. Jin had stepped forward eagerly, determined to be marked as the “main character” of the station, while Taehyung, dissatisfied with sharing Terry with Hoseok, had wanted a character entirely his own. Even Jimin had timidly declared that he shared some remarkable similarities with Jake although thankfully that had been shot down quite quickly by the rest of the station. When Dahyun had stepped in, determined to win the title for herself, everyone had decided that it was necessary to duke it out for the role of Jake.

Which totally would have been fine for you as you could work unhindered without Jungkook’s normal nosiness as long as he was engaged in this particular discussion. That is, until Nayeon had noted that you are very clearly Santiago. Which left choosing the role of Jake up to you, since whoever you chose was supposedly your love interest. 

Now, you weren’t about to publicly announce that if it came to choosing love interests, Jungkook would be your top choice. So, in the interest of self-preservation and peace and quiet, you had quickly chosen Taehyung since he was the least likely to pester you after the fact and hoped that would be the end of it. Only, it wasn’t!

Jungkook’s disappointment had been almost tangible and here you are a week later, with him still pouting. You’re supposed to be on a stakeout but instead of watching the building where the culprit is thought to be camping out, his gaze has been unwaveringly fixed on you for nearly twenty minutes now. 

“Spit it out.” You finally groan. Your shift doesn’t end for another couple of hours and you don’t think you can handle another moment of his bottom lip quivering. 

“Is Taehyung really a better partner than me?” He demands. You glare at him, hoping it to be adequate deterrent but Jungkook has been your partner for so long that he is practically impervious to a look that makes many a lesser officer quiver in their boots. He just folds his arms and glares back at you with equal discontent. “Answer me.” He whines. 

You turn back to the building, but you can see Jungkook’s stare over your shoulder in the reflection of the car window. 

“How would I know how good a partner Taehyung is?” You finally say. “Ask Jimin. I’ve only ever had you for a partner.” 

You feel a hand land on your shoulder and Jungkook tugs firmly until you are forced to turn and meet his gaze once more. His stare is oddly vulnerable. 

“You know that’s not what I mean. If you’re Amy and you chose him to be Jake then you must-“ He can’t bring himself to finish the statement. Instead he inhales deeply and stares at you with a renewed steel to his gaze. “How about this? We make a bet. If I win you have to announce to everyone at the station tomorrow that you’ve changed your mind at that I make a better Jake.” He suggests. You

grimace. That does not sound like an appealing option. 

“And if I win?” You finally say. He offers you a weak smile. 

“Then Taehyung gets to be Jake and you’ll never hear a word from me about it again.” Jungkook says, but you get the feeling he’s not just talking about the stupid Brooklyn-nine-nine discourse for some reason. You soften your gaze just a fraction. 

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You ask. Jungkook doesn’t answer for a moment, simply peering at you for a long moment. 

“I’ll tell you if I win.” He finally says. You grimace- what do you have to lose anyway? Jungkook will leave you alone if you win OR if you lose because he’ll finally have someone agreeing with him. Admittedly it’s not like your opinion will magically solve the dispute on the rest of the force and he may drag you in to back you on further arguments about it. But you’ll get at least a week of peace, if you know anything about Jungkook. 

“Fine. What are your terms?” You finally relent. Jungkook’s eyes do that think where they light up and twinkle a little. The look is so dazzling that you think maybe this wasn’t such a mistake? He leans in close until you can feel his breath puff against your face and you find yourself breathing very shallowly. He stares intently into your eyes with that playful, charming twinkle and a slight curve to the corner of his mouth. 

“Whoever gets the most amount of arrests by the end of the week.” He whispers the words for some reason and something hovers in the air between you that has you unable to speak. You only manage a tiny nod in response. You feel mildly dizzy and flushed at his proximity. You’re about to ask him to back off but then you are falling backwards. 

Because Jungkook has reached around you opened the car door. In the next moment he is diving out the door on your side of the car with surprising grace. Before you can even register what happened, you regain your balance to find Jungkook has pinned someone face first against the brick wall of the building you are parked next to. You blink in disbelief as Jungkook smugly recites the Miranda rights to none other than the culprit you were trying to catch. He glances over his shoulder as he retrieved his cuffs from his belt and offers you a wink as he does so. 

“One.” He mouths at you. 

Thus begins the most tiring week of your life. 

++

You’re exhausted. The bet started off fine- Jungkook made two arrests before your competitive streak kicked in and the next thing you knew, the two of you were competing like your lives were on the line. But it seemed no matter how riled up you got and how hard you fought for what was purely your sense of pride, Jungkook was fighting harder and more deseperately like there was something more on the line than just being acknowledge as similar to Jake Peralta.

On the final morning, you have both fought so hard that the score board sits at an even tie. Jungkook looks stricken when he finds that you have made one more arrest while covering the night shift for Dahyun to even the score. It’s the final day of the bet and a tiebreaker is necessary if there is to be a winner.

Over the course of the week, your colleagues have become increasingly invested in your ridiculous competition and they gather around the two of you as you finally settle on the tournament that is to be the final tie-breaker- a scissors-paper-rock show off. Jin plants both hands on Jungkook’s shoulder and looks him dead in the eye like he’s giving a pep-talk to a pro-wrestler about to participate in the finals while Jungkook nods desperately along. You merely rolls your eyes as you watch the exchange when you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. You look around to find Jimin peeking tentatively at you with a hand hesitantly extended towards you.

“Do you have a moment?” He asks softly. You glance at where Jungkook is stretching his fingers like he’s stretching before a race with Jin and Taehyung hollering their encouragement and sigh deeply. All this for some peace and quiet?

“Sure.” You say, letting Jimin take you to a quieter corner of the room. He wrings his hands nervously when you’re out of earshot of the eager audience and your competitor. He’s always been a bit of a nervous, soft guy except when out on the field. He suddenly turns into a terrifying and authoritative monster when in front of a criminal but you find it hard to forget the soft gestures and gentle smiles you associate with him.

“It’s about this bet. And about why Jungkook wants to be Jake so much.” Jimin finally says. “I was going to let you guys duke it out but I think things have gotten out of hand. Jungkook’s pulled three all-nighters this week and he might pass out midway through your competition.”

Your eyes widen- you hadn’t realised your partner was pushing himself to such an extent. Horror fills you that he would endanger his health so drastically over what you perceive as a stupid and childish bet.

“He did what?” You cry, about to stalk over and shake some sense into your silly partner but Jimin stops you with a gentle hand around your wrist.

“It’s because you’re Amy.” He cries. Confused, you turn to face him and he releases your wrist when he’s satisfied that you won’t attack your partner.

“Because… I’m Amy?” You ask in confusion. Jimin nods so hard his hair bounces up and down.

“He wants to be Jake because you’re Amy. He’s upset that you said it was Taehyung because he thinks it means you like Taehyung.” Jimin elaborates and your jaw actually drops.

“That’s why? But… Amy is Jake’s…” You trail away and blink in confusion. Jimin nods as you piece everything together- Jungkook’s desperation, his disappointment when you first declared that Taehyung was the better Jake… All of it points to one thing and that is that-

“I’ll let you decide what to do.” Jimin says, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back into the crowd. You turn around to find everyone has left a clear path for you and Jungkook waits in the centre. Suddenly you notice things you hadn’t picked up on before- the dark circles under his eyes and the pale, sickly tinge to his skin. He really has been pulling all-nighters over this.

Despite everything, you bite back a smile as you step up to face him.

“Jungkook.” You say. “I want to change the terms of the bet.”

“W-what to?” He asks, shaking tension out of his hands. You bite your lip and glance away.

“If you win, you get to be Jake. But if I win…” You swallow deeply and gather all your courage. And then you step in close so you can whisper the next part into his ear. These next words aren’t for the rest of the crowd to here. “You take me out for a coffee date.” Is what you hiss at the shell of his ear. The subtle rise and fall of Jungkook’s shoulders halt at your words- he’s stopped breathing for a moment. You step back and hope no one notices the flush to your cheeks. They’re all disappointed  to not know your new terms but some things are just for partners to know.

Jungkook blinks a few times.

“I’m doing scissors.” You announce wildly to the entire room.

The familiar “scissors-paper-rock” chant fills the room and everyone watches with baited breath as you throw down your chosen hand gestures. You hold out two fingers vaguely in the shape of scissors.

And Jungkook holds out a flat palm, looking very dizzy and disbelieving and slightly giddy. It’s very clearly a paper. And scissors beats paper. The crowd gasps to find Jungkook has thrown the match.

That evening after work, though he has lost the title of Jake, Jungkook feels like anything but a loser.

[worldoffanficskpopcpop]

Kang Younghyun Fanfic Recommendations

Hello! Welcome to my fanfic recommendations! If you would like to see other groups or other content in regards to this artist or their group, please click the links below! All of the masterlists/posts I’ve made will always be updated when I find new content or scenarios! Feel free to recommend me some blogs to check out! Also, you like my fanfic recommendations, please like and/or reblog so that more people can see it! I will release more groups as time goes on!

Go Back to All Group Masterlist

Go Back to Day6 Masterlist

A

A Bet Never Won:  “I bet you can’t go 24 hours without cussing.” 

A Cup of Coffee: You have a crush on Brain but thankfully, this isn’t a typical unpopular girl falls in love with a popular boy

Another Chance: Brian teasing you in hopes you see that he likes you

B

Bass Line: Who said you couldn’t bond over shared interests like the bass, not being around people, and each other? 

Be Lazy:  “don’t get up, I’ll do it.” 

Best Efforts: Brian teaching you how to play the guitar 

Blind in Love: it took a while, but he was finally able to see you with your glasses on, no matter how embarrassing it was for you 

Blunt:  “Take notes, sweetheart.” 

Breathe: French Kissing with Brian 

Brian’s Dae: You and your son take a trip to Brian’s set

C

Can you spot me? (You’re the first thing I see): Ballerina! reader; Younghyun knew dance is something you cherish, so when you invited him to see your dance recital as your boyfriend, he was way over the moon 

Clingy:  “brian getting overly clingy when you ignore him 

Cloud 9: He’s so happy that he finally made you his wife 

Colder (Trigger): where you have words on your body, but instead of the first or last words your soulmate says to you, they’re the most important/impactful words your soulmate will ever say to you 

Coffee Shop:  Brian can't help but fall for you 

Confession: Brian confesses to you

D

Don’t go:  All you want is to fall asleep in your boyfriend’s arms, but his job makes that request a lot harder to fulfill 

dumb and dumber: how many stupid fights can there be among the young aspirants to the guitarist’s position before anyone even gets it? how much can the course of history turn to get it, interfering with feelings in the middle such as strumming? 

Drabble #4:  Getting jealous

Drabble #6:  Counting each other’s freckles/beauty marks/scars/etc 

Drabble #7:  Calling each other by a pet name 

Drabble #10:  Brian drabble where he peeks inside your classroom to see if you’re ready to go for our lunch date 

Drabble #13:  cuddly Brian after a long day of him performing on stage 

Drabble #14:  you surprise Brian at their concert and then he sees and starts cutely messing up in his line 

Drabble #15:  Young k asking their significant other to prom 

Drabble #16: a long-distance relationship where you finally get to meet Brian in person 

Drabble #17:  cafe date with Brian 

Drabble #18:  shopping date with Brian 

Drabble #19: Brain trying to braid your hair 

Drabble #22: a road trip with Brian 

Drabble #24:  the one where your soulmate’s first words to you are written on your body 

Drabble #25:  “If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?” 

Drabble #26:  “You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!” 

Drabble #31:  the one where when you dream you’re seeing whatever your soulmate is currently experiencing. 

Drabble #32:  “The diamond in your engagement ring is fake.

”Drabble #33:  “Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.” 

E

Empty Threat:  “Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?” 

F

First Try: Brian teaching you how to kiss 

Forgiveness Cuddling:  you try to get his attention but he’s busy, and then at the end of the day he finds you in bed and gives you a lot of skinship to make up for it 

Frigid Love: As a storm encroaches on your college dorms your heater breaks but your warm ass boyfriend decides to make things better. 

G

H

How Drunk was I?: “You look rough.”

Humor: Sharing a milkshake with Brian   

I

It’s a Texas Thing!

J

K

Kiss me First: Brian teaches you how to play the guitar but there’s a catch

L

leave my heart out of this: after finally deciding to make a change not only in your training place but in your life, things start to get confused with the arrival of a new coach who seems to be more than just a guide in your game. 

Little Banter:  “I hope you have a cold shower.” 

Lovely Proposal: You and Brian like each other but both don’t have the courage to say it 

M

Making chores fun: Doing chores are much more fun when doing it with Brian

Mixed Up: You  calling him “bri” for the first time 

N

No Matter What: brian reassuring that his s/o is beautiful and don't have the need to go on a diet 

O

P

Q

R

Rejection:  you’re best friends with Jae but Young K hates you, but you have a crush on Young k 

S

Say Wow: First date with Brian

Sleepy Photos:  you fell asleep on Brian’s shoulders and he starts taking pictures of you or tries to tickles your nose

Someday: At times, you feel the pressure of not starting a family early and always putting your dreams first

Stay: “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside”

sweet chaos: the pair of brothers weren’t exactly the craziest thing that crossed your path, moving to the coast made you find the most intoxicated version that your summer ever had. 

T

Take Away the Pain: You fainted on stage 

the day you left me: in which younghyun realizes that the one problem he always had was believing that he was controlling his life 

U

Unsure: Brian asking you if he can kiss you for the first time

Untitled: Brian making it up to you after a fight

V

W

When You Love Someone: Prince Younghyun would do anything for the love of his life; even if it means giving up his crown 

With You: Lazy Cuddle Session with Brian!

worried voicemails:  “it’s midnight and you aren’t answering your phone. where are you?!” 

X

Y

You and I Have Finally Become One:  you finally found your soulmate

“You’re in love with them.”: “Dude, you’ve been smiling at your notebook for the past five minutes, and when I come to take a look at what you’re doing,”

You’re my happy ending: Your life with Brian 

Your Kid Gets Jealous: Kids say the darnest of things

Z

[legobiwan]

could you do 18 and 100 for the trope mash up thing? (And if you want two characters, Obi-wan and Hondo?- I got a little confused with your added instructions to the trope mashup)

Circus AU / Accidentally Saving the Day (Hondo & Obi-wan)

Anon, I had to WORK for this one and even did a little research into circus history since I am woefully undereducated about the topic. I think I’ve found an interesting way of weaving these all together and giving a little bonus at the end. Stick with me here, I need to do a bit of an introduction to get this whole idea going. 

For the purposes of this AU, please assume that the Clone War and all the events surrounding it happened directly after Naboo, meaning everyone is about 10 years younger than they are in canon. Also assume that Qui-gon was not killed on Naboo, although that has little bearing on this particular story.

THIS GOT OUT OF CONTROL. I was expecting to write a fun little 1,000 word thing, not a whole AU concept. But here we are, so….uh…

We’ll see what everyone thinks? Enjoy. And good luck  :D

—-

“How are they doing?” Szimon Tesdak asked, thin, long mustache bobbing up and down at the ends.

The other man patted the Pamaradian prancer’s neck, running his fingers through the thick mane of her hair. The prancer shivered, eyes darting back and forth, hooves tapping nervously on the durasteel floor. The man known as Whisp spoke softly in the creature’s ear, the words foreign to even Szimon’s cosmopolitan ears. A few moments later, the prancer settled, nuzzling her snout into Whisp’s shoulder. 

Whisp turned to face Szimon. “They’re restless,” he said. “Fourteen hours in a cruiser is a bit much for anyone to take.”

Szimon waved the veiled criticism away with a flick of his wrist. Yes, it had been a long journey, but the payoff would - hopefully - be worth it. And they needed the credits - or whatever these people were going to pay. 

“An hour more and we’ll be there,” Szimon said with false confidence.

Whisp stood, crossing his arms tight against his chest, the black-and-crimson fabric of his worn travel tunic wrinkling with the gesture. There was a hint of beard on the young man’s chin, something that, when it grew in, would likely age him a good ten years. The man peered at Szimon with grey-blue eyes like he was trying to ace one of those vision tests at a local spaceport agency. Always looking for hidden meaning, he is. 

And sometimes he finds it. 

At least with the creatures, that had been the case. Two years Whisp had been working for Szimon and never had the older circus master figured out the man’s trick. Szimon had spent his life in the circus, from his childhood on Thybaar right up the grand days of the bright Coruscant lights to his now-ramshackle operation held together by thread, petty theft, and the occasional cashing in on favors owed. 

Szimon had seen it all - and more,  but nothing like Whisp and his ability to communicate with the creatures, like he was reading their minds. “The Whisperer,” the other members had taken to calling him. The moniker had stuck, albeit in shortened form, Whisp’s real name - whatever it had been - long forgotten.

“Remind me again why we’re flying out to the Outer Rim for a show? Seems a bit of an expense when we could just as easily round up a few smaller venues for far less hassle,” Whisp said.

“Ah, Whisp, ever the cynic,” Szimon clapped a meaty hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t think of it as a hassle,” he waved a dramatic hand, as if unveiling something from a behind a curtain. “But as an expansion of our operations.”

Whisp cocked an eyebrow. “Hardly difficult seeing as our operations comprised of three planets the past month, two of which we never actually got to land on.”

Szimon snorted. Well, yes, business had been down because of the war. Szimon himself cared little for the politics of the Republic or the Separatists. A government was a government, with all its little games and corruptions, mazes of betrayal, and endless mountains of datawork. No, Szimon Tesdak would never be chained behind one of those desks. 

But many others were, shackled to unfulfilling jobs and lives, stuck in a desert of mediocrity and boredom. That was where Szimon came in. Unhappy citizens tended to breed unhappy revolts. But give them a nice circus, something to laugh at, a little magic that was absent from their day-to-day existence?

It didn’t really matter who was in power. The problems, the outcomes -they were always the same in the end. 

Still, the war had been disruptive to his business and over the past few months, the “Great Thybaarian Traveling Show” had been forced into semi-refugee status as planet after planet was devastated by the conflict between a mechanical and clone army. Circuses were part of avoiding war, not conducting it.

Szimon shook off the dark thoughts with a wide smile. “Come on now, Whisp. We’re going to make great friends on the Outer Rim. My benefactor has promised a large sum, maybe even a sponsorship if we play our cards right.”

“I thought they were pirates,” Whisp retorted, half-smile playing on his face.

Szimon made an airy gesture, chuckling. “Pirates, embezzlers, Hutts. As long as we get paid, I’ll work for the Sith themselves.”

Whisp tightened under Szimon’s arm, which was wrapped around the thin man’s shoulders. Some unreadable emotion passed over his face, a premonition of a storm. After a moment, he spoke, hesitant. 

“I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit!” Szimon exclaimed, shaking Whisp. “Come on, we have to make preparations for landing and I’m not letting Battlebuzz near those controls again.“

—–

“That was a very impressive show, my friend,” the pirate known as Hondo Ohnaka sidled up to Whisp, unceremoniously dropping into the seat next to him, tankard full of green ale. 

Whisp looked up from his own mug, half-consumed, eyeing the pirate warily. “Thank you,” he replied, adding, “I think,” after a moment’s hesitation. It never hurt to be too cautious around pirates. 

“All those acrobats, all the flips and whooshes.” Hondo made an extravagant gesture with his arm, nearly taking Whisp’s head off. “And the beautiful women dancing to such music, it shouldn’t be allowed!” he grinned, giving Whisp a knowing look. ”My men, they enjoy that - some of my women, too!” Hondo cackled, downing the entirety of his pint in one go, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“But you, my friend - with the creatures.” The pirate’s voice turned a shade serious and several parsecs more calculating. Whisp bit his lip, steeling himself to steer another drunken conversation away from this dangerous territory. “Yes, the creatures,” Hondo continued, nearly singing. “Now that was something I’ve never seen before. Most beast tamers use weapons.” The pirate made a few motions mimicking a whip. “They use fear and intimidation but you!” He pointed a finger that almost went up Whisp’s nose. “Ah, it was almost like you talked to them with your mind.”

Whisp gave a forced shrug, his pulse starting to race. He needed to stay calm. Needed to focus on the present, not his anxieties. He laughed to himself, bitter, wholly aware of the gross irony of that statement. “Just an ability I’ve had since my youth,” he said, voice flat. “Better me in the circus than those brutish weapons-wielding tamers you mentioned.” Whisp scowled. That much was the truth. Whisp couldn’t abide by their methods, couldn’t stand the way the pain and fear radiated from the abused creatures. He knew he couldn’t save them all, but if he could give a second chance to even a single Borcatu, if he could find a home for those who had been cast out -

Anger trilled at the back Whisp’s brain, a sensuous, lush melody more tempting than any of the ribald pirate ballads in the background.

Hondo beckoned at another Weequay, grabbing two pints from a serving tray, setting one in front of Whisp in an unspoken command. “Yes, your youth. Tell me about that. Your accent is polished, very posh, very Core World.” Very monied. If only, Whisp rued.

It had been too much effort to try and tame his accent, which stood out amongst Szimon’s motley crew of performers like a neon bell weed in the desert. 

Whisp took a long sip of his beverage, smacking his lips together. The new alcohol was a step higher in quality than the dredge he had been drinking before. He peered to Ohnaka on his right, wondering if he was about to be drugged, kidnapped, or worse. Oh well, he thought, drinking some more of the beverage. Might as well enjoy while I can.

“I was brought up in the Core,” Whisp recited, setting his glass down, not even needing to think about the words he had said them so many times. “My family, unfortunately, abandoned me, so I took to farming in the Mid-Rim as a means of sustaining myself. It was there I discovered I had an affinity for creatures and then did some work in healing clinics before the war broke out. The Republic Army took over all the planetary clinics so I was forced into finding…” Whisp bobbed his head, “more creative ways to apply my talents.”

“Interesting,” Hondo noted, his gaze greedy as he looked Whisp up and down. Whisp’s other hand moved to his waist. So much for enjoying. He fingered the blaster he had hidden under his red and silver vest, neatly tucked away in a shoulder holster. 

Hondo held out a hand. “I don’t mean to cause you alarm, my young friend,” he said with a laugh, sitting back in his chair, kicking both feet up on the table. “You can put your blaster away, I only want to talk business.”

Whisp’s hand tightened for a moment before he raised an open palm in a universal gesture of surrender, his brow furrowed.

“What type of business?”

“What type indeed?” Hondo hummed, rocking his feet back and forth in time to the bawdy, clangorous music. Somewhere on the other side of the room, Tergallian and Lopisa had gotten into a knife-throwing contest with some of the pirates. Whisp had a feeling the Weequay had bet on it and that the pirates were about to lose their shirts, pants, shoes, and who knew what else in the deal. Might have to make a quick getaway if there’s enough of a ruckus, Whisp thought, eyeing the locations of the exits and the best strategies to get there without being shot. 

Again, he winced. 

“Oh, you won’t make it out, I promise” Hondo commented, his expression still jovial. “All the exits are under full guard and I guarantee there’s no other way out unless it’s by my command.” He pressed a finger into the table, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “Unless,” he began after a moment, “you are a Jedi.”

Whisp was off his stool in an instant, blaster in hand. Not wanting a direct confrontation, he pointed it towards the ground, the table hiding the weapon from the view of most of the other pirates and circus members. Off in the corner, Szimon’s eyes grew wide as he made a series of furious movements in Whisp’s driection.

“I’m fine,” Whisp signed back in the strange language of gestures known only to those in this particular circus, an easy way to communicate on stage while looking artistic and also a not bad method of either avoiding trouble or sometimes finding it - if their pockets and stomachs were empty enough.

Hondo clasped his hands behind his head, looking unconcerned. “I did not mean to upset you,” he said, lips quirking upwards as if he had just figured out some baffling puzzle. “Only warn you about my security system. But let us not talk of such things, as they disturb you and as my dear mother always said - “ Hondo raised a finger. “Son! You catch more apidactyls with honey. And if that doesn’t work, you can still catch them with a blaster.”

Not worth the fight. Not even sure I’d win this fight, Whisp sighed inwardly. Knowing when he was outmatched, or at least when to choose his battles, Whisp retook his seat with a muttered curse. 

“Fine, then. What do you want from me?”

Hondo smiled. “Ah, now we talk business,” he shrugged. “Nothing much, my friend. And nothing - mostly - to do with your little traveling show. But the circus isn’t going to pay you forever and a man of your many talents - ” Hondo leaned forward, putting both forearms on the table. “Could fetch a pretty hefty payday if he found himself aligned with the right people.”

Whisp’s eyebrows rose. “Are you offering me a job?”

Hondo raised both arms. “Maybe, if you are willing to - “

“Hondo!” A large, burly man came barreling into the room. At once, the music stopped with a zippered rip of a holodisc jarred from its needle, pirates and circus members alike turning to the wide-eyed, heaving pirate. 

“We got trouble out there!”

Immediately, Hondo came to his feet, blaster in hand. “What kind of trouble?”

“I think it’s the Republic! Looks like them, at least. They’re tryin’ a fall back to our compound!”

“We’ll see about that,” Hondo growled, raising his weapon. “No one takes over Hondo Ohnaka’s compound without my permission!”

—-

Blaster fire rang out from all sides, a multicolored lattice of deadly energy. To Whisp’s surprise, Hondo was near the vanguard of the pirates, shooting at the incoming wave of bright, white uniforms with terrifying precision. The pirates were good, Whisp had to give them that, the transition from unruly drunkards to semi-disciplined guerrilla fighters more seamless than Whisp thought possible. 

“Any ideas?” Szimon asked next to him, the pair huddled behind a large boulder, just out of range of the real fighting. Whisp knew Szimon didn’t care one way or another about who won this particular battle - one of thousands Szimon had witnessed over the years. But their ship - their livelihood and home, not to mention only asset - lay just beyond the front line of what Whisp was pretty sure were the infamous clones. If their ship was damaged, or, even worse, destroyed - they were all done for. 

Whisp took in the scene, applying his natural affinity for tactics that had been first discovered early in his tenure with Szimon, an awkward encounter with the Ruuthian mafia, a highly successful performance, and a jar of…requisitioned heeble eggs belonging to Ruuthian mob boss. It had been his quick thinking that had gotten them out of that mess, a plan so crazy it couldn’t do anything but work. From that point on, Whisp had earned the nickname, “The General,” much to his dismay.

Carefully, Whisp extended his senses, not only his eyes and ears but his other senses, the ones he kept locked away from everyone else - everyone else except his creatures. The creatures didn’t care what his status or title was, if he had succeeded or not, if he occasionally broke some moral law that had been branded into his mind as a child. The creatures didn’t judge - they had never judged and found him wanting.

It wasn’t good. For all of Hondo’s firepower, they were still in the bottom of a cereal bowl in the sandy crevasse, the clone troopers above holding higher ground as they advanced on the compound. It didn’t escape Whisp’s notice that the troopers’ blaster bolts were consistently going wide, aimed to injure or impede, but not kill. Some strange long-buried instinct rose in Whisp’s chest as he watched the men, sensing their similarities, down to a genetic level. Was he was supposed to be on their side? Supposed to be fighting with them, supposed to -

An explosion rocked the compound, bringing down metal, stone, and all kinds of debris on the pirates. Hondo barked out more orders, a line of men running to set up what looked like a short-range missile while the rest of the pirates resumed their firefight. 

I’m supposed to be getting us out alive, Whisp fumed at himself. No more distractions. Szimon’s face was covered in dust and sand and for a moment Whisp almost laughed. The circus master looked the spitting image of the Great Lady Devonna in her full makeup. 

“Are you alright, Szimon?” Whisp asked, helping the other man to a seat. 

“I’ve seen worse,” he growled, swiping debris from tassled gold epaulettes perched on bright red shoulders like two Felucian retrine sparrows. “Just do something, Whisp, I’m not getting any younger here.”

Right. Whisp looked again at the fight, the positioning of the men, their ship. The pirates weren’t going to win an all-out firefight, not like this and Whisp had to assume there would be reinforcements coming sooner than later. It was now or…

Whisp frowned. They could wait for the clones to take over the compound and beg for lenience. But knowing the Republic, they’d probably confiscate the ship. And send them to prison. Besides, Whisp’s own presence might raise too many uncomfortable questions, ones he had no desire whatsoever to revisit.

So much for that idea, he rued, while surveying the scene. The clones were all faced towards the fighting, Hondo’s forces feisty enough to keep them fully engaged. There weren’t that many of them, not a full battalion, for certain, which meant it was likely Szimon’s ship was wholly unguarded and not even considered a threat, as it had no visible weaponry. If he could just…

Whisp closed his eyes, feeling for the familiar energies, the outlines of the creatures he cared for, from the smallest snitmouse to the largest morak. Yes, he thought, connecting his mind with the stampede creatures. They would never see it coming. 

A moment later the earth rumbled, the fighting slowing to a small drizzle of blaster fire as the line of clones turned to the oncoming dust storm that hid the three moraks, now prodded on by Whisp, feeding off of his repressed frustration and anger with the representatives of the institution that had driven him to this life in the first place. Of the people who were trying, again, to deprive him of a home, of a place where he belonged.

Unaware the opaque cloud hid anything living, no less animals whose shells repelled most blaster fire - a well-kept secret known not even in the fancy universities on Coruscant - the clones fired to no avail as the moraks descended, sending bodies flying in every direction with desperate shrieks, the remainder of the forces too startled to return fire efficiently. Three bloody minutes later, the remaining clones ran, retreating, leaving the bodies of their fallen comrades as the only evidence of the failed ambush. 

Cheers rose the pirates as they lifted their weapons in glee, somehow manifesting mugs of ale in their hands only a scant minute after they had been involved in a full-bore battle. Whisp slowly climbed from behind the rock, pulling Szimon up with him. The Thybaarian looked at Whisp as if it was the first time he had ever seen him. 

“Was that you?” he asked, eyes trying to pierce through years of layers, of hidden secrets that were the only true skin of the man known as Whisp.

Whisp laughed, uncomfortable. “What? No, I mean - “ 

Szimon shook his head, still dazed. “I always had my suspicions, you know. Not just the creatures, although I’ll grant you that’s one hell of a trick.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “I figured there was some reason you weren’t up with them in that fancy tower, figured it was none of my business, but now - “ Szimon’s eyes turned calculating. “This isn’t just some parlor trick, is it, it’s - “

Whisp backed away, palms splayed in front of him, as if trying to stop the words from entering his space. “No, I’m not. I - “ he looked around, wild, feeling just like one of his creatures, feral and trapped. He was going to lose his home again, once they found out, it was all going to be over. “I never - “ Something snapped, then crackled with inside of Whisp, like the breaking of an invisible, electric bone, sparking flying everywhere.

“I never was one, okay!” he yelled, stomping his foot. “Never was, never will be! That man - that child - died over ten years ago. This -” Whisp gestured angrily at himself. “Is what I am. Nothing. More.”

They had been certain leave Whisp with that message. Nothing more. Just nothing.

“A fascinating story, my young friend,” a low, baritone voice intoned from behind them. “I would be curious to hear more of it.”

Whisp spun around. The man was - there was no other word for it - regal, imperious, commanding the attention of every being in the valley, as he moved towards Whisp and Szimon, long brown cape billowing in the wind, deep violet outfit a perfect fit on his broad chest. Hondo’s troops paused mid-swig, ale running down their necks, and even Hondo himself craned his head forward to get a better look at the newcomer. 

Fifty blaster rifles rose at once.

The man stopped, surveying the ends of the weapons pointed at him with a disaffected gaze. The compound held its breath, sinews tightening around triggers as an unworldly clarity came over the canyon, as if each atom, each sound wave could be made manifest as a physical, tangible reality. And then the man smirked, wholly unconcerned with his vast disadvantage in the situation as the world returned to its customary blur. Whisp and the others exhaled, noisy phlegm crackling up their lungs, dust tingling in their throats.

The stranger took an unhurried step forward raising one hand. 

“You may lower your weapons,” he addressed the pirates, voice betraying nothing but absolute confidence. It occurred to Whisp then that the man had never been at any disadvantage at all. “I intend no harm,” he added in his deep, patrician voice.

Hondo took an equal, ambling step forward, hands clasped behind his back. He circled the newcomer, a hound sniffing for possible quarry, gazing him up and down, as if he were a incoming shipment of contraband. Then, after a moment, Hondo gave a nod, and the blasters summarily disappeared. 

“My, my we are popular today,” the pirate began amiably. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mister…” Hondo gestured at the other man in question.

“I am here for three reasons,” the stranger announced, ignoring Hondo’s unspoken inquiry. “The first was unwelcome, but unsurprising. My ships were caught unaware, en route from a trade post in the Outer Rim to Jybosti. I carry the identification cards and manifest if you desire proof of my claim. The Republic forced our hand, causing us to land here and engage in an unwanted ground battle which regrettably involved your forces.” The man turned to Hondo, giving an apologetic gesture. Hondo answered with cool regard, his skepticism echoing through the enclosure. Whisp had to agree. No one just happened to go by a place like Florrum without reason. Especially someone like this. 

Still, it wasn’t the stranger that had been one shooting at them. Maybe he was telling the truth. Or at least a part of it.

“Secondly,” the man continued, opening his arms, “I would like to thank you all for, how shall I say - “ He paused for dramatic effect, lifting his chin slightly. Whoever this man was, he knew how to hold a crowd, perhaps even better than Szimon. “Saving the day, however unexpected your heroics may have been.” 

“Yeah, heroes!” One of the pirates bellowed, raising both his blaster and ale mug, several others echoing his enthusiasm with chants of “Heroes!” which quickly devolved into far less elevated rhetoric.

“And thirdly?” Hondo asked, after the raucous had died down. 

“Thirdly,” the man drawled, turning his full attention on Whisp. “I would like to know further details regarding this young man’s story.”

Whisp’s eyes went wide as he took an involuntary step back. “There’s not much more to tell, I’m afraid,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. The words were automatic, a defense mechanism so perfectly tuned, it was nearly instinct. But the strange pressure that had been growing at the back of Whisp’s brain spiked with the lie, leaving a dark, velvet shadow in its wake, something immensely powerful yet a balm to his frayed emotions. It was something…

Whisp gasped, eyes locking with the other man. 

It was something familiar. 

The stranger smiled, all edges as he clasped his hands behind his back, addressing Szimon. “This young man is in your employ?” he asked, brusque, nodding towards Whisp. 

Szimon straightened his jacket and his posture, already sensing a deal in the making as he slipped into tell-tale ringmaster persona. “Yes, sir, best creature tamer I’ve ever seen.”

“Interesting,” the man commented, drawing out the word. “And if he were to leave your employ, how would that affect your operations?”

“Well, I daresay it would be quite the inconvenience,” Szimon began, his confidence building as he fell into the familiar patter of a sales pitch. Whisp barely heard the words, disbelief rising like an angry, red ocean. Would Szimon really do this to him? Now? After everything? 

“…so you see, unless I would be suitably compensated for my losses…”

The grey-haired man leaned forward and whispered something in Szimon’s ear. Szimon’s eyes went moon-wide, his mouth dropping open, words tripping from his mouth. 

“I trust that would be satisfactory?” the man asked.

“I - ah - “ Szimon sent a half-apologetic glance over to Whisp, eyes gleaming with barely-contained avarice. “I think that would be more than fair.”

“Excellent,” the man articulated, ignoring Szimon’s half-gasped ‘thank yous,’ now directing his full attention back to Whisp, drawing himself up to full height. “And you, who are about to enter my employ. What is your name?”

So that was it. No offer, not even a perfunctory question, Whisp’s future once again dictated by the whims of others. Whisp clenched his teeth agains the injustice of his very existence. “Whisp,” he answered, barely keeping the venom from his voice, fists tightening into balls, nails digging into his palms. 

“Your real name,” the man growled. Behind him, Szimon gaped, now looking on with unabashed curiosity, a faint patina of guilt oozing from his sweat-beaded forehead.

Long-buried memories, banished ghosts relegated to an afterlife he had not yet experienced rose in Whisp. He squeezed his eyes shut against the assault of emotions, of the sharp knives of betrayal, the deep pools of loss that threatened to overwhelm him. Had it been so long since he had uttered his own name?

Forcing a noisy breath between his teeth, he steeled himself, meeting the icy gaze of the other man, who considered him with keen, intense interest. 

“My name is Obi-wan Kenobi.”

For a brief second, the Force surged in a strange, dark elation as the stranger’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction. 

“And I am Yan Dooku of Serenno. Come, Obi-wan,” he said, putting an arm around Whisp’s shoulders, leading him away from the confused and quiet scene of pirates, of the doe-eyed stares of what had - for a brief, happy moment - been his family. 

From one family to the next, always a visitor. First the Jedi and Qui-gon Jinn, then Bandomeer. Then clinics, then circuses, and now this. 

With Dooku.

Something settled in Obi-wan’s gut, not unpleasant. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to open to the Force, wholly and without constraint. This felt right, more right than anything else had in Obi-wan’s life. 

“Come,” Dooku repeated, voice warming ever so slightly. “We have much to do.”

[shhawnboi]

Dad’s Approval | Connor Brashier

Summary: Your dad hates Connor so much that even he starts questioning himself and it’s your job to remind him why he can’t be more wrong.

Word Account: 2K

A/N: This is my first imagine ever, so sorry if it’s to cringey and disappointing. Also, English it’s not my first language, excuse my poor vocabulary and grammar and please tell me major mistakes to correct them.  

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Y/D/N Y/L/N, your father, is Connor’s second worst nightmare, the first one being losing you. Mister Y/L/N is the boss of the biggest lawyer’s firm on LA, he is feared and respected everywhere because he has enough power to bring everyone he wants down, and that includes Connor, luckily this hasn’t happened to him, yet.

Your dad adores you. You are his pride and joy he just wants the best for you and he thinks that Connor, a simple boy with a camera, will never be enough, so he takes every chance he gets to remind you both, that. You don’t care about you dad’s nagging words but Connor does because he can’t help but agreeing with him. You deserve better than him and he is a selfish jerk for keeping you all to himself, but he can’t bear the idea of letting you go.

Last Monday your dad called to invite you two for dinner at his favorite restaurant ‘Saint Japher’, a place designed for the upper class with menus that just a few of privileged people can afford, and in that group of people Connor isn’t included. Your father does every other time for two main reasons: to see if you are still together and to drag Connor’s confidence down (task that he has always accomplished successfully). Connor has always tried to win your dad’s favor but to Y/D/N’s eyes, Connor was just a kid who plays with a camera and think that’s a job.

When Connor wakes up, the first thing he sees is your beautiful figure cuddled against his right side. Your body is covered by just his shirt and nothing more, and it makes him feel all cozy inside because it means that all of you is his. You are completely knocked out, it’s a normal occurrence whenever you see your father, he never fails on getting on your nerves and tiring you to death, especially when he starts throwing knives at Connor like there’s no tomorrow. Connor gives you a light kiss on your forehead and decides to go out for a run, he needs it to clear his mind a little. When he steps out of bed you start moving on your sleep but you don’t get up. He tries not to make too much noise while he’s getting dressed and when he is finally out of the house, he lets a long exhale escape from his lips. Con knows that he shouldn’t give a fuck about what your dad thinks about him but he does because he agrees with your father, you deserve better.  

By the time Connor starts running following the peace of some catchy pop song, every snarky word your dad said yesterday comes to his mind, crashing him with the force of wave colliding against the rocks.

“Do you remember Thomas Lebrant, darling?” asked you father while he was looking at the menu.

“Yes dad, I remember Tom.” of course you did remember Tom, you dated him for a year... before you left him for Connor.

“I saw him him the other day, he’s doing great at medical school, he will have a bright future, he’s a very hard-working man, he asked me about you. I really think he was your perfect match.”  

Connor remembered Thomas too, your first boyfriend, he was the guy every father wanted for his daughter: perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect behavior... he was just perfect. You started dating him when you were seventeen and spent a whole year with him, but when you met Connor you started to feel things you had never felt before and you had to break up.  

Con will never forget the day he saw you for the first time. It was a sunny day in LA, he was at the beach with Sam doing a photoshoot with an Instagram model called Lydia Hanni, she was laying on the hot sand and he was supposed to be taking photos of her body, but he couldn’t focus his camera on her, he was too busy filming the beautiful girl playing frisbee with her friends. When you noticed a pair of eyes on you, you turned around and saw Connor with his camera. He waved his hand to say ‘hi’ and you smiled, at that moment Connor swears he felt his whole world stop. That was the beginning of your love story and your dad’s worst headache ever.

“Good for him, dad. I guess you told him that I’m doing pretty good with Uni and my lovely boyfriend.” you reached for Connor’s hand and you pressed a little kiss on it. Your father let out a sigh and Connor smiled at you. You had the power to make everything better.

“I told him you had a little adventure with some guy.”

‘A two years adventure’ thought Connor.

At first he thought that her dad needed time to warm up to him, but time passed and he didn’t change his mindset. He hoped that when he started working for Shawn your dad would be happy, but that didn’t occur, in fact, he got pissed because he was going with his friends to have fun in Europe leaving you alone. Nothing he does it’s good for your dad and that’s eating him alive. He tries to ignore it but it gets harder every single day.  

“Have you found a real job yet?”

“My friend is looking for a coffee guy for his office, I could call him if you are interested?”

“How much has your boss payed you for your hobby? I mean, it’s not a very hard task.”

“Did you have fun on tour? Doing nothing playing with your friends?”

He loves his job and he’s proud of it but he is starting to believe that it’s not enough for you. Your father is right, you are worth of a rich, wealthy man that can give you all you want in matter of minutes. You always say that he’s the best that has ever happened to you, but now he thinks you say that because he’s keeping you away from greater things that you’ll never discover if you’re with him.

When he arrives home after an hour of running, he goes straight to the shower, maybe that’s what he needs to clear his mind for good. Once the hot water hits his muscles, he lets a satisfied moan, a hot shower never fails to relax him.

You wake up the moment you hear the water running from the bathroom, you guess that’s Connor having a morning shower but once you notice his sport clothes scattered across the bedroom floor, you know he’s probably gone out to clear his mind a little. You can’t blame him though, the shitshow your dad pulled yesterday at the restaurant was capable to put everyone on the edge of their sanity. You have talked nearly a billion times with your dad about his behavior with your boyfriend but he always ignores it. You’re sick of it because Connor doesn’t deserve an ounce of the shit your father aims at him, no one really deserves it to be honest. Your boyfriend is the best that has ever happened to you and you’re so proud and in love with him that whenever your dad opens his big mouth, your heart breaks a little.

You decide to get out of bed and get into the shower with him to show him some love. You get rid of your shirt when you enter the bathroom. Connor hasn’t realized yet that you’re there and very much awake so you got him by surprise when you stepped into the shower.

Everything in you is alluring and lovely to Connor’s eyes and your body is no exception. He loved and praised every inch of it, it’s his temple, the place where all his problems disappear. He was completely addicted to it, therefore when you decide to enter the shower, his first instinct is to pull your naked body closer to his.

“Hi, love.” this pet-name always sends shivers down your spine and makes you smile like an idiot “How are you?” you were both under the hot stream of water, nose and foreheads touching and eyes closed.

“That’s what I should be asking, handsome.” you whisper as you kiss him delicately, like you’re afraid of breaking him.  

“I’ve been better.” he confesses with a forced smile. He doesn’t want you to worry about him but you know too well that grimace on his face and the dull look on his beautiful eyes.

“I’m so sorry about my dad, I can’t believe what an asshole he can be.” you’re really ashamed by your father, he never respects your decisions or opinions, each time he tries to impose his no matter what.  

“You don’t have to excuse him, I mean, he’s not wrong.” he looks away because he knows that if he sees your breathtaking eyes, he’ll break down in matter of seconds.

“What do you mean he’s not wrong, Con?” you hold his face between your hands and you make him look at you.

“He’s right about me.” he says heartbroken.

“No, he’s not, baby.” you try to reason with him but he doesn’t take it and watching him so sad is destroying you.

“C’mon Y/N, he’s right. You are this beautiful, kind, smart and amazing woman and I’m a kid with a camera. All your life you’ve been surrounded by the most incredible things on Earth, your dad could give you all you wanted. I’ll never be able to do that, I can’t take you to Bali every month, I can’t pay your studies... You know who could? Thomas, he was perfect for you and I took you away, if you were with him, I bet you’d be happier becau...” you smack his chest before he can finish his ridiculous speech, now you’re pissed and frustrated, he can’t be saying all of that, can he?

“I swear to god, Connor David Brashier, that if you say something like all the bullshit you have just said, I’ll kick you out of the house until your two remaining brain cells realize how utterly stupid you are.”

“Bab...” he tries to interrupt you but you shut him off before he can argue back.

“Don’t ‘Babe’ me, idiot. Connor, I love you, more than anything, you’re my world. Listen, maybe my dad has always given me whatever the hell I wanted, do you know the price? He was never there for me, I was left alone 24/7, on my birthdays, recitals, competitions, even in my own graduation, he showered me with gifts but not love. And Tom, he was a nice guy, he treated me right and all of that, always so perfect, it was boring as fuck: we never stayed three days in a row at home doing nothing besides fucking and eating, he never surprised me with 3 AM dates at the beach or with little getaways at Target... Tom was just there but he didn’t make me feel anything, not the way you do. I want you. You’re the best part of my life and I can’t imagine a future without you. I don’t care about monthly travels to Bali, I care about months just by your side. I love you Connor, you’re perfect.”

Once you finish your monologue, you notice he’s crying. You clean his tears with your soft fingers and he kisses you passionately against the shower wall.

“I love you, Y/N” he embraces you strongly, afraid that if he loosens his grip, you’ll disappear.  

“I love you Connor, let me show you.” you kneel down and that’s the only thing Connor needs to know that he’s in for a very long morning and he’s so ready for it.

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I hope you all have enjoyed it. Please like, comment or repost if you liked it. Right now, I’m working on a long Shawn Mendes fic, tell me if you’d like to read it.

[breanime]

Just You

Requested by @weeplikeanangel:  Hi, I have no idea if you are taking request (if not, feel free to ignore, or maybe save for a day in the future if it gives you inspiration), but you’re the only author I know of that actually writes the reader as bi. So I was wondering is you could do a little fic where the reader and Billy hit on the same girl, but end up going home together instead? Maybe it’s happened before and even see each other as competition? I love your work, and have a lovely day!!

Thank you for the request and for waiting so long. I hope you like it!

Warning: slight steam?

*gif not mine*

You smirked, glass against your lips, at the dark-haired girl across the bar. She was just your type; dark hair, dark eyes, a little standoffish, but certainly open to a little fun. She smiled back, and you knew she was interested. You out your drink down, ready to pounce, when you heard a voice beside you.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to look up at your friend and oftentimes competition: Billy fucking Russo. “C’mon, man…” You started.

“I’ve been working this girl since we got here,” he said, leaning back and putting his elbows on the bar, “I’m not losing another one to you.”

“You owe me,” you reminded him, “Remember last month? I had Valerie all revved up and ready to go until you swooped in for the kill. Asshole.”

“And before that, I had Gabriela,” Billy said, “Literally fingered her until she came just to be upstaged by you.”

“It takes a woman to know a woman,” you grinned.

“Then there was Rachael, Jean-Marie, Kay—”

“—To be fair, we both ended up going home with Kay,” you said, putting a finger up, “I just had her first…and better.”

“I got Lexie, though,” Billy said, smirking down at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Only because I was working. If I’d have been there, she wouldn’t have looked twice at you.”

“Yeah?” He asked, angling his body so that he was fully facing you. His eyes, dark and deep, stared down at you in a way that made your knees just a little bit weak. “Wanna bet?”

You grinned, and you saw his eyes dart down to your lips before looking up at you again. “Let’s do that, actually,” you said, “I bet that I can get that girl,” you gestured to the dark-haired girl across the bar, “to go home with me tonight instead of you.”

“I bet that she goes home with me,” he said back, “She’s been eyeing me all night.”

“Only cause you’re standing next to me,” you said confidently, “You in?”

He surveyed you, dark eyes trailing up and down your body. He’d been doing that a lot, actually, checking you out. If it were any other man, you’d have been irritated but with Billy… you were flattered—interested, even. “What do I get when I win?”

You laughed at the “when”. “Anything you want,” you said, “You can ask me to do anything, and I’ll do it—you can even use my place, if you want.”

He stuck his hand out. “Deal.”

You shook it eagerly. “Deal.”

You sent the girl a drink, Billy sent her an appetizer. Billy flashed her an award-winning smile, you gave her a nice good look at your cleavage. You blew her a kiss as you walked past, Billy crooked his finger and waved her over.

She came over.

You watched, eyes narrowed, as they talked. She talked with her hands, and you watched them fly around as she spoke, wondering what those hands would feel like gripping your ass. Billy’s back was to you, and your mind suddenly supplied an imagine of him above you, naked. Hm… You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to Billy Russo. He was your friend, of course, but he was also the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in your life, and you knew firsthand—from sharing lovers with him—that he knew how to please a woman. There had been plenty of times you were with someone else, male or female, writhing on a bed thinking of Billy, wishing it was him kissing you, him licking you, his flesh beneath your nails. But it could never happen. You were open to it—more than open, actually—but you knew Billy didn’t feel the same way. You watched, arms crossed, as he turned from the girl and walked over to you. He was smirking.

“Dude,” you sighed, “come on…”

“She said she wanted me,” he reported smugly, “wanted me to fuck her until the sun came up.” He chuckled, ducking his head as he spoke. “…She also said she wanted you to sit on her face while I ate her out.”

Your eyebrows shot up. You’d gotten propositioned before to be the jelly in a Billy Russo sandwich, but never so openly, and never by Billy himself. “Oh,” was all you could say back.

“I told her no,” he said. You looked past him and saw her back as she left the bar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He took a step toward you, and suddenly you felt your body heat up. You watched, eyes wide, as Billy put a hand on your waist, gently pulling you against him. “Wanna know why?” He asked.

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired of this,” he answered, “I’m tired of going home with random women that I don’t care about, tired of settling for just a temporary release.” He put his other hand on your waist, holding you close. “Tired of pretending that it’s not you that I want,” he licked his lips, “That it’s not your face I think of when I’m inside someone, that I don’t wonder what if would feel like to kiss you… hold you…” His dark eyes flashed. “…Fuck you.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, heart pounding, “well damn.”

“Yeah,” he said. He raised his hands so that they were hovering over your hips instead of touching you. “Is that… Do you…?”

You stepped back, and Billy seemed to deflate a little bit. The woman with dark hair was gone, having been properly rejected by Billy, and here he was, standing in front of you, telling you he wanted you… “Looks like you won,” you said, turning back to him, “Technically, she chose you, so…” You stepped back over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders. “…You can make me do anything you want.”

He laughed, hands going back to your waist. “I don’t want to make you do anything,” he replied, “I want you to want it.”

“I do,” you stood on your tip toes, nose almost on his, “I do want it. But I want you to make me, too…” You brushed your lips against his, feeling him relax against you. “…I want you to make me beg,” you whispered, “want you to make me shiver and scream and—”

Your words were interrupted as Billy’s lips crashed into yours. You moaned into him, wrapping your arms around him and letting him lift you off the floor. His tongue moved against yours perfectly, and one of his hands went down to grip your ass, pulling you closer to him. You stayed like that, suspended in mid-air with his mouth on yours, for what irrationally, simultaneously felt both like hours and minutes. He pulled back, pupils blown wide, grinning over at you. “Fuck,” he said, voice raw.

“Fuck,” you agreed with a grin.

“Sweetheart,” he said, pulling you towards him again, “if I don’t get you in my bed within the next 20 minutes…”

“Promises, promises, Mr. Russo,” you kissed him again, wondering why it took the two of you so long to do this.

“Come on,” he took your hand and led you outside, hailing a taxi with his free hand, “Let me show you just how bad I want you…” He kissed you, and you felt your toes curl as his mouth moved against yours. Billy was a ridiculously good kisser. “You know,” he said, kissing you as he spoke, “this means that our competition is over… This means you’re mine now.”

You grinned. “It does, does it?”

“Fuck yeah it does,” he said back, kissing your cheek, “Trust me, baby, after tonight… You’ll know that there’s no other person—man or woman—for you. Just me.”

“Just you,” you closed your eyes when he started kissing your neck, “Billy…”

He pulled back when a taxi approached, opening the door for you. “I promise,” he said, “I’ll be enough.” He slid into the seat beside you, reciting his address to the driver before taking you by the waist and pulling you to him again.

“I know you will,” you said, and you were being honest. As you held him, kissing him and letting his long fingers caress you, you knew that Billy was who you had been waiting for all this time. You’d been with your share of men and women, and had some pretty great times—but there was nothing that could compare to Billy Russo’s hands on you, mouth on yours. “You’re all I need,” you murmured against his lips, “Just you…”

Years later, you were still with Billy, still loving him and getting loved in return. Every now and again, you’d run into a girl from your past when you were out with Billy, and a few times, instead of just awkwardly staring or running off like a few of them were known to do, the woman would approach the two of you, and whenever they did, they had the same thing to say: “I knew it”.

And every time, Billy would turn to you, a smile on his face and a hand on your waist, and say: “There’s no other woman for me…

…just you.”

*******************************************************************************************

Did you notice a lil somethin-somethin in there for a few of my mutuals? Eh? Ehhhhh? Haha, okay–thanks for reading!

Taglist: @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @suchatinyinfinity@fanfictionrecommendations-com  @maxslime-blog @elanor-of-imladris@songforhema @lucielandss @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @themadhatter92@realduckvader @the-blind-assassin-12 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @littlemermaidprobz @ashkuuuu@luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso@teacuplotus @iaintnofurry @thesumofmychoices @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @whovianayesha @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @starkrobb @marauderskeeper @charlylama @thesandbeneathmytoes @something-tofightfor @banditthewriter  @binbons-is-theloml @thebabblingbookworm @khuangpu13

[abbeyfangirl]

dragon age: all characters (companions)

I’ve been in this fandom for a hot minute now and I want to update my opinions on characters :)

Origins

Alistair: super sweet dude who literally is not the stereotypicalchantryguyfightme. He’s a great example of healthy masculinity and I totally wish he was bi because I have an entire essay on that— also: he’s a poc! His mum was brown. In game he’s got dark features. if you really want a blond/blue-eyes/white guy, make your warden that. or accept that brown people can be noble and moral. or just draw cailan, idk. just because BioWare whitewashes doesn’t mean you should.

Leliana: someone hug my singing girlfriend before I crush her under with my own hugs. Also: nugs. Yes! Shoes. Yes! She likes how I style my hair? YES!! I honestly think she’s super duper and it pisses me off whenever someone’s like: yeah she enjoys killing people and the Game. ok. and michel de chevin willingly participated in genocidal marches through the alienage he grew up in with his elvhen mum. 

Morrigan: dirty swamp witch that i stan and also have a v big crush on. tiddies. Have a son with a GW so we can raise him with our tiddies out in the forest. she’s also white-passing, as her father was chasind and all people we’ve seen that are chasind are black. therefore, she is biracial. therefore, poc can be goths and don’t shy away from giving morrigan a darker skintone. if the devs had of been thinking, she’d have a darker skintone.

Zevran: Actually is the best romance, I think. Loves consent, therefore I will stan him so hard my skull cracks a little. Also: he is a very brown boy and if he’s white in da4 I’m seriously going to throw all canon out the fucking window. genuinely a good person who needs to be told so. 

Wynne: grandma who only likes my friends who go to church. but also super sweet and I’d rest my head on her bosom (in a platonic way omg ZEVRAN)

Sten: angry quiet boi. the bestest boi. I totally would give him a kitten for a gift and bake him cookies. Thicc softie. I think if I had DA:O and i knew how to use mods i would mod the fuck outta him. sorry.

Sha(y)le: who’s gender? idk her. See also: fuck birds and authority. pound ur ass into the ground you feathery meatbag little shits. fuck songbirds.

Dog: such a good boi. thicc. thinks Alistair is a whiny fuck and is Morrigan’s only friend. love him. he’s the cutest companion. bet.

Ohgren: honestly forgot about him bcc he’s such a shitbag. also: he could’ve been a really cool addiction recovery type but NOPE. probably would have a trump shirt in a modern au and would catcall wlw and hit mlm. no thanks.

Awakening

Anders: he acts like rlly straight but he’s so gay I can smell it. also he’s rlly cute and fun and I love him so much.

Justice: MAYBE i’M selF CONSCious OF THE twitchING. is the friend that genuinely doesn’t get dick jokes but is ur 110% ride or die.

Nathaniel Howe: honestly is sort of a white knight/neck beard a little, but it’s kind of charming with his whole velanna m’lady?? grump boi. annoying soul patch that I’d mod out SO FAST—

Sigrun: would have ROMANCED the FUCK out of her. why she even entertains the idea of fucking with ohgren makes me realize most of the writers are dumbfucks.png. peppy little emo. 12/10 would die if she kissed my cheek teasingly.

Ohgren: why. why. why. I’d have brought Shayle over. Maybe Zev? Definitely Dog.

Velanna: she was written to be an annoying feminist and you can tell but I deadass am a kindred spirit with her bcc I too am deadpan annoyed with Thedas’ general population too. love her. Would’ve loved to romance her. She’d totally be one of those who’d get all tsundere and be like “n-no i hate you” *kisses the fuckin soul out of you then blushes so hard she’s now a tomato*

Dragon Age II

Anders: fuck the cops. i don’t care. fuck the cops. (vine reference). also: do i hate him for blowing up the chantry that would eventually annul a huge collection of his people? no. read dalishious’s meta on Anders. v intriguing. didn’t they retcon the fuck out of the reported deaths too? like there was like eight Templars and Elthinia in there. Templars killed more “abominations” in a day than Anders in the game canon—

Aveline: initially thought she was fine and then realized she’s shit to my lil brother and I will fucking clap her ginger ass. See also: whorephobia isn’t a joke so fuck off with treating Isabela badly, you tit.

Bethany: sunshine. Literal sunshine. I feel my freckles grow in her presence and i love it. she’s my little baby sister and I’d slam that ogre so fuckin hard before it touched either twin.

Carver: there has to be a mod where both twins survive. I love them both to bits. My babies. carver is my bitter, angry little brother and I can relate because I too am very angry and would totally clap my own ass. hes so genuine and I don’t get the competition between Beth and Carver. Like, both are fuckin stellar in different ways. In this essay I will—

Fenris: honestly, I don’t get the general hate between him and Anders. Fenris’ main arc should’ve been a recovery arc, not drunken moping and revenge. he deserves better. give him a soft sweater instead of his spikes and let him love himself as much as I love him for MAKERS SAKE. like when you really think about their relationship, it could’ve been an eye-opener for fenris and finally some legit sympathy for anders. but we all know that if they had of teamed up that Meredith would’ve been dead before the end of Act 1 so.

Isabela: whorephobia is not a joke. oversexualizing your only appearing brown woman is so poorly written. how about we appreciate her and her lovely bosoms but also let people tease her about her heart of gold? her innate understanding of freedom? instead of just a wave of dick? please?? can we give her some pants for when she fights? can we accept that i fall for rogues who hate themselves?? fuck. also whomever draws her x femHawke x Merrill literally is after my own heart.

Merrill: my fucking babygirl MARRY ME. Fenris could’ve been her older brother type, but NO. she and Isabela should’ve been canonical gfs instead of Isabela/Fenris (no shaming the pairing tho!!). I love how she’s written as neurodivergent. V nice. Sometimes I just look her up and cry because she’s fucking everything. Also: she’s in the Dalish origin and she’s far from being white. Why did they make the most innocent/naïve character really white? hmmmm.

Sebastian: whew that boy. Would totally be that annoying Mormon at your door but you still let him in bcc he’s super sweet. Also: huge ass bible thumper and should get his head slap because you said the maker loved all his children why do you defend a complicit old hag you annoying attractive fuck—

Varric: totally is a bard and the devs couldn’t handle the idea of him being one bcc it might make him look less straight. is the only grey morality person I don’t want to fucking bash in with a fry pan. he sees people and I like that, but you totally know he’s siding with mages every time bcc him and Anders are like besties. I’m sorry. I don’t make the rules. “Professional Younger Brother”.

Tallis: I know nothing about her but she seems okay. I think she was an escaped slave and honestly? Fucking props. Spy on a shitting organization, idk what you’re doing, but your VA was that cool lesbian from SPN so I think ur okay?

Inquisition

Blackwall: Redemption Arc 101. Love him to bits. Sad dad bunwall. good man. actually atoned for his sins by actively becoming a good person. his initial design is 80% hotter im so sorry but so not.

Cassandra: was way browner in the last game. would romance the fuck outta her. I love me a butch lady who melts at my dorky recitation of poetry. BioWare is a coward. also is the worst choice for divine. but not a bad person. could use some more guidance or get her ass whipped by a dalish elf about religion or a circle mage kid whos like “yeah bud i didn’t ask for the templars to whip my ass everyday for existing.”

The Iron Bull: I think the Qunari/Vashoth were a little based off black people (the whole anti blackness thing where ppl are scared of them bcc of whatever reason) and it pisses me off that he had a weird ass dubcon thing with Dorian in banter. It doesn’t make sense— he’s an A+++ dom and would not jump straight in role play without at least checking in at first like wtf BioWare.

Cole: his mother was chasind so he’s like not supposed to be that white? or like biracial? albino? idk. love him to bits tho. He’s neurodivergent and I deadass love him. romancing him? idk. I see why ppl think it’s fuckin nasty but also like as a writer I’d age him the fuck up so fast before my inquisitor even THOUGHT about that. like idk. I’m down with him being a sweet little bro character tho. he’s a babe. love him.

Sera: had the worst fucking writer I’ve ever seen and I willingly read the twilight saga twice by a shit ass racist white lady who okay’d pedophilia. like. Fuck you Kristjanson suck your own dick you fuck. had the worst options in regards to speak to her. has a thicc case of internalized racism that literally most of the fandom just loves to use against her. my lesbian neurodivergent queen. Would write a thousand fix it fics for her. Love her to bits. im gay.

Varric: I haven’t played DA2 so i don’t get why everyone wants to romance him but like. a dwarf romance? yes please. Idk he reminds me of my uncle so I only see him as fun uncle material. Deadass should adopt Cole and Merrill and co parent with Blackwall for Sera. dads? fuck yeah. love me some wholesome, present fathers.

Dorian: is a gay stereotype that I love/hate so much. and he’s also just as bad about being a creep bcc he sexualizes qunari men (in banter). I attribute that to shit writing tho. I want to protect him from all the “omg gay best friend!” people. he’d clearly be that tired gay that wouldn’t give a diddly damn about ur het romance. wanna talk about politics? he’s ur guy/gay.

Solas: “me, an intellectual:”. I don’t hate him, but I’m not about him. He comes off as mysterious and suave (which he totally is) but I deadass would not save him from himself because he’s a racist, exclusionist eggshell. idk. not my cup of tea, but I can totally see the appeal. And he’s interesting, I’ll totally say that. “I think the Dalish are garbage but they made you” is not a compliment. it’s so offensive. and such bait for “quirky girls” which I’m no fan of. Would be Achilles and let Patroclus (Lavellan in his case) die before he realized how his pride is literally a waste of time. If he gets a redemption arc I hope Lavellan gets to slap him before getting him to teach all about ancient Arlathan and show that the Evanuris weren’t all total dicknozzles. (Aka I really have a hard time believing that they’d be slavery cult things. especially since they’ve compared elves to indigenous ppl, Jews and the Romani.)

Vivienne: it’s so racist that they’d make a black woman be pro-slavery. That’s such internalized racism. She could’ve been the cool ass “educate yourself first before you speak, fool” ice lady, but NO. the devs could’ve kept the “Templars are a tool that I proudly can mandate” and the “circles are very good education” and we. Could. Have. Romanced. Her. Like. Fuck. Sake. I just wanna give her a hug and say “love yourself omg!!” and not even in a romantic way. Also: she and morrigan should not have been so antagonistic towards each other. I’d expect them to have great respect for each other, as they both moved up in the world through hardwork and very little help. They could learn different magic from each other too and still maintain that rival respect “oh you” mood. Sidenote: probably the cooler option for Divine. if her approval is high enough she’ll love and be loyal to you forever and i can’t see her agenda being bad. she improves the circles exponentially and tells all the antis to suck her pretty painted toes.

Josephine: an actual disney princess. romanced her my first playthrough. I love her so much. she just makes me so happy. And she’s like: “Integrity, Loyalty, peace. That is what it means to be a GREY WARDEN good fucking person.” she’s the person who would let you hold her hand if you got anxious and she’d be that person who shouldered the whole group project with finesse and poise and would probably lie for everyone as to not be mean. i love josie. her and leliana’s relationship is so cute, too. whether it’s romantic or not: women supporting women.

Leliana: if you leave her hardened you must hate her. why. she becomes so against herself. i like how shes feminine and lighthearted because that’s so powerful-- to remain hopeful when the world is hopeless. (its hard to know when to soften her/harden her so i get it but. google it. she deserves to be happy and sweet again.)

Cullen: uwu war criminal with shit ass “redemption arc” that was actually a half-assed (at BEST) recovery arc. Recovery isn’t linear, it isn’t pretty, and even the broken need to be told they are wrong in order to heal right. Like I’m offended by that bullshit. I’ve had to do some mental health recovery in the past and unlearning lots of toxic ideologies— which I’m still unlearning— and it bothers me that he gets an easy pass because he’s hot. It’s one thing if you like Cullen, it’s another thing if you hold him accountable.

[torestoreamends]

Sonnet 29: A Drastoria Fic

1.5k words, G rated

On a sunny spring afternoon, Draco and Astoria discuss Scorpius’s education, and Draco recites a sonnet.

Inspired by this video of James Howard.

Read it on AO3

*

It’s a blazing spring day. The sun smiles down out of the cerulean sky, and the rose garden is in its brightest bloom. Draco and Astoria stroll hand in hand among the vibrant flowers, Scorpius running ahead of them, shouting about butterflies and bees and his favourite roses.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that much energy in my life,” Astoria says, as Scorpius darts from bush to bush, barely pausing for a second.

“He certainly exhausts me. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. Just... overwhelming. I wish I could keep up.”

Draco squeezes her hand. “Me too.”

Astoria watches for a moment as Scorpius stoops down to inspect a daisy in the grass. “We still haven’t decided what we’re doing about school, have we?”

Draco glances at her, but she’s inscrutable. “No, I suppose we haven’t. I assume you have some thoughts?”

“Daphne’s sending her children to a local Muggle school. For a general education, of course. They learn all sorts. Reading and writing, music, geography, Muggle history, even Muggle science. It sounds quite fascinating.”

Draco sniffs. “I’m sure it is...”

“You don’t approve.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Astoria shoots him a little smile, and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t approve... I’m just not sure I like the idea of Scorpius being exposed to-“

“This is going to be a dangerous statement.”

Draco lets go of Astoria’s hand and pokes her gently in the side. “No, it’s not. Be quiet and listen to your husband for a moment.”

“I’ll shut up and let you dig yourself a hole. Go on.” She presses a finger to her lips.

“I’m not digging!”

She raises her eyebrows at him and doesn’t say anything.

He sighs. “All I’m trying to say is that... I don’t like the idea of Scorpius being exposed to a substandard education. Which by no account means that all Muggle education is substandard. On the contrary, I’m sure it’s excellent. But I do read those newspapers you leave lying around, Astoria. Those politicians meddling with Muggle education... It all seems terribly inconsistent, changeable as the wind, and the exams... Imagine taking a curious child like Scorpius and crushing all the joy out of him with all those exams. That’s what I’d be worried about. I mean look at him.”

They both fall silent and watch Scorpius. His attention is focused on one particular flower. When he realises his parents are watching him, he looks up and grins at them.

“There’s a bee!” He points at the flower and peels the petals back, twisting the stem to show them. “Look!”

“He loves the world,” Draco murmurs. “He loves learning. I don’t want him to lose that.”

Astoria twines her fingers with his and leans into him, turning to look up at his face. “That’s not the answer I expected you to give. I’m sorry.”

Draco lifts her hand up and kisses it. “I haven’t earned the benefit of the doubt, don’t worry. It’s something I’m working on.”

“No, you earn it every day. I just forget sometimes.”

Draco bows his head to hide what he’s worried might be a blush. “Anyway... Neither of us went to formal school before Hogwarts and we turned out alright. Eventually.”

“We did. But I think it would be nice for him to meet other children and make some friends. Muggle education experts say social development is very important.”

“We could take him to visit his cousins more often. I like Daphne. She has an excellent wine cellar.”

Astoria snorts and digs her elbow into his ribs. “What’s wrong with our wine cellar?”

“It’s much more fun to drink someone else’s expensive wine. Drinking one’s own can be somewhat painful. In fact, that’s something we could teach Scorpius during his home education.”

“We could... train him to be the world’s youngest Master Sommelier?”

“No. We could teach him the value of graciously accepting other people’s hospitality. Social education, just like your Muggle experts suggest.”

“Somehow, I’m not sure that’s quite what they were thinking of...” She links her arm with his and they set off walking in pursuit of Scorpius, who’s disappearing down the lawn in the distance. “What else would you teach our son, if he were to be educated at home?”

“History, obviously. Languages; we could even start him off with some basic runes. Literature — all the classics.”

“Are we including Muggle classics in this?”

“Such as?”

“Austen. Brontë.”

Draco wrinkles his nose. “Romance novels?”

Astoria pokes him in the side. “What would you have picked?”

“Shakespeare.”

“Says the man who was disparaging romances.”

“At least Shakespeare also wrote a great many tragedies, and history plays.”

“And sonnets, some of the most beautiful romantic poetry ever written.”

Up ahead, Scorpius starts running back towards them, waving his hands in excitement about something.

“Some of the sonnets may be relatable...” Draco admits.

Astoria grins and squeezes his arm. “Such as?”

“Such as... Sonnet 29.” Draco releases Astoria so he can turn to face her properly. He clears his throat. “‘When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes; I all alone beweep my outcast state; And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries; And look upon myself and curse my fate; Desiring this-’ Hang on, that’s wrong. I don’t think I can remember it...”

Astoria smiles. “You skipped a couple of lines. ‘Wishing me like to one more rich in hope; Featured like him-’”

Draco nods and starts reciting again, speaking along with Astoria. “‘Like him with friends possessed; Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope; With what I most enjoy contented least-’”

“Mummy, Daddy!” Scorpius bounces up to them, waving something in his hand. Astoria puts a finger to her lips and scoops him up into her arms.

“Sshh, Daddy’s reciting a poem for us.”

Scorpius twists round and stares at Draco, wide-eyed, as Draco continues, trying not to be tripped up by the fact that his audience has suddenly doubled in size.

“‘Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising; Haply I think on thee.’” He reaches out and taps Scorpius on the nose. Scorpius giggles and goes cross-eyed as he follows Draco’s finger. When Draco pulls hand back, he clamps his own hand over his nose, still grinning. Draco smiles as he carries on.

“‘And then my state, (Like to the lark at break of day arising from sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings; That then I scorn to change my state with kings.’”

When Draco finishes, Astoria taps her fingers on Scorpius’s back in applause, and Scorpius cheers. Draco gives them a small bow.

“Thank you, thank you. I’m stunned I remembered that.”

“It was pretty,” Scorpius says. “What‘s it mean?”

“It’s about love,” Draco replies, shooting Astoria a smile. “And hardship. And redemption, I suppose. Very relatable.”

“It was written by Shakespeare.” Astoria brushes her fingers through Scorpius’s hair. “He was a famous writer. Your daddy and I might be going to teach you about him, along with lots of other things, so you’ll know lots and lots before you go to Hogwarts.”

“Oh...” Scorpius breathes in wonder. “I want to learn about everything.”

“Exactly.” Astoria kisses him on the forehead. “Now, what did you want to show us?”

Scorpius waves his hands down the garden. “There’s an amazing flower! I don’t know what it is. You need to tell me. I’ll show you.” He wriggles his way out of Astoria’s arms and tears away across the grass.

Astoria sighs and wraps an arm round Draco. “I don’t think you could constrain that in a classroom even if you tried...”

Draco shakes his head. “No. I’d pity the poor teacher that had to try. Although I suppose that’ll be us...”

Astoria laughs. “You might come to regret trying to home school him.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I could ever regret anything when it comes to him.”

Astoria leans her head briefly on his shoulder. “You should consider reciting sonnets more often, you know. I could get used to it. You have a nice voice for them.”

Draco gives her a squeeze. “For you, I could consider becoming a hopeless romantic.”

“Shame, I thought you already were.”

Draco laughs. “We’ll see. Now, I suppose we should hurry up and find out what our adorable bundle of exhaustion wants to show us.”

“I bet it’s not a flower. I bet it’s another toadstool.”

“Basic Herbology. We should add that to the list of things to teach him.”

“Definitely... He has the whole world to explore.”

“But the best people to show it to him, even if I do say so myself.”

“Mmm.” Astoria pauses in her stride so she can lean up and kiss him. “Even if you do say so yourself.”

They wrap their arms around each other and fall into an awkward, lopsided stride as they wander happily through the sun drenched rose garden, following the sound of Scorpius’s distant laughter.