#but they were certainly Very Aware of each other bc they ran in. more or less the same circles

[collegeoflore]

Boy Do They.

[lovelylusts]

cloud nine // csb // 11 - bathroom bitch

summary: a group of friends form on nsfw twitter, and hijinks ensue. but when jisu starts catching feelings for soobin after filming with him, she has to grapple with her feelings while assuring her close bond with him doesn’t die.

general warnings: choi soobin x oc (moon jisu), smau, smut, fluff, angst, crack, the rest of txt is here too, aespa is also here just bc they serve, no relationships or events in this story reflect real ships and are just for the story, this is a pro sex-work story obv, lowkey probably gonna be filthy as hell considering it’s a sex work au, vague relationships lmao, she/they oc because i’m projecting, genderfluid yeonjun agenda, oc has a not-so-secret thing for soobin’s hands, they use fake names on twt :)

chapter warnings: short but sweet, sorry for no update i’ve been busy :(, dom-ish!soobin, sub-ish!oc, chapter named after bathroom bitch by holychild :), mentions of drugs (weed + alcohol), who would have guessed that they are in fact fucking in a bathroom, quickie, idk if this counts as exhibitionism or just not giving a fuck, fingering (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex (plz don’t do this), premature orgasm? kinda?, brief mention of virginity/inexperience, but obv neither of them are virgins, biting, brief mention of blood but there’s no actual bleeding, very brief blowjob where soobin finishes in jisu’s mouth

word count: 2.5k

series masterlist // general masterlist

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jisu wasn’t quite sure how she found herself here, sat on the counter in aeri’s bathroom with her hands in soobin’s hair, his teeth grazing her neck as he rapidly pumped his fingers in and out of her soaking cunt, but she certainly wasn’t complaining.

the two-bedroom apartment reeked of junk food, beer, and weed as the group of ten crowded into the living room of beomgyu and aeri’s shared home, staring intently at the screen while yizhuo, kai, beomgyu, and minjeong partook in what the group had decided was the most intense game of mario kart they had ever seen - even if they did notice the two who had subtly snuck off, they had far more important things to worry about.

it was innocent at first, both of them happening to go to the kitchen at the same time to grab a beverage from the refrigerator. they were still so nervous around each other, even after everything they had done together, but they would never talk about it with each other. the sex was just part of the business aspect of their relationship, right?

soobin wasn’t quite sure what was causing the feeling to rush over him - maybe it was because the last time they were alone together, he had been writhing in white hot pleasure beneath her - but he felt needy. he felt guilty for wanting her like that at a time like this, when their entire group of friends was finally convened in person for the first time.

jisu hadn’t thought about it the entire evening, simply just happy to finally be able to spend time with everybody, but stepping into the kitchen at the same time as him shifted the atmosphere drastically. she felt like a high schooler alone with her crush, butterflies beginning to take flight in her stomach looking, her chest feeling slightly restricted as she became hyper-aware of both of their actions. she wasn’t sure why she cared so much, considering not only the current circumstances but also that she and soobin had been together plenty of times without her feeling this distressed - but she ignored it, tucking the feelings away and instead reaching for the handle of the refrigerator.

soobin couldn’t take it anymore, grabbing the outreached hand and using it to quickly turn her and press her against the cold stainless steel of the appliance, smirking down at her as he noticed her dilated doe eyes staring deep into his own with surprise, and the small hairs that covered her body standing straight - he couldn’t see it, but it made him aware of the chill that had ran down her spine. a sense of urgency from his arousal spread through his body, urging him to lean forward and press his lips against hers, both of them quickly melted into each other, and the acknowledgment of their friends in the other room fading as they held onto each other, the intensity of their kisses leading to reddened, puffy lips upon pulling away from each other.

they couldn’t contain it anymore, jisu using the moment of separation to catch their breath to pull him out of the kitchen and down the hallway, not caring who saw them, and dragging him into the first open room - giselle’s bathroom. her bathroom was neat for the most part, the majority of her makeup and toiletries stored on shelves and in organizers, save for some stray pieces that she had used earlier in the day. it was no matter of importance, though, as she heard the click of the lock before feeling herself being lifted onto the counter, soobin standing between her spread legs and grabbing onto her waist.

“i’m sorry, i just needed you so bad,” he muttered between kisses, his hands roaming her body until he pushed her shirt over her chest, the fabric bunched above her breasts while he leaned down to softly suck pale bruises onto the flesh peaking above the beige fabric of the cups of her bra. “i just wanna make you feel good.”

“i-i’m not complaining,” jisu said as a gasp, breathless at the way his mouth felt against her skin. she was subconsciously bucking her hips, needy beyond her own belief as she felt his hardness pressing against her through her joggers. “need you so bad.”

his hands trailed down to the waistband of her joggers, tugging at the elastic to signal that he wanted to take them off, pulling them down her legs after she lifted her hips to aid him, and letting them settle on the floor. he examined the situation before him, jisu’s spread legs revealing a large wet spot on her grey underwear, her slick arousal seeping through the thin fabric. he brought his right hand to her thigh, trailing his fingers against her pale flesh as he tilted his head down to capture her in a messy kiss, teeth colliding as she brought her hands to his chest, her touch furthering the hardening of his cock in his sweatpants.

“soobin,” she gasped, her words staggering as she tried to catch her breath after pulling away from him, “please touch me. i need you.” her skin practically felt like it was on fire, the feeling of his touch making her feel borderline feverish.

he chuckled at her neediness, though he felt it too, bringing his hand towards her center and running his thumb over the patch of arousal on her underwear. she jerked at the touch, trying to stay quiet so as to not alert the others, even if they did already know what was going on, which was more than likely. he watched, smirking to himself, as she brought her hand towards her mouth, her teeth capturing the cloth of the loose long sleeve shirt she was wearing, attempting to muffle her sweet sounds - he loved hearing her moan for him, it was one of his favorite sounds, but this would have to suffice considering all of their friends were just down the hallway.

he removed his hand momentarily to grab at the waistband of her panties, pulling them down slightly until she realized what he was asking of her and lifting her hips so he could pull them down. he smiled to himself like a kid in a candy store as she repositioned herself, her arousal glistening in the warm lighting of the bathroom, evidence that her heat was calling for him to just fill up her tight pussy until she was on the verge of tears. with dark eyes, he gazed down at her, front teeth pressing into the rim of his bottom lip as he teased her entrance, her wetness coating his fingers.

“god,” he groaned to himself. “you’re so fucking wet for me.” his long fingers slipped into her heat with ease, though he still found himself in awe as the walls of her tight cunt constricted around him. his middle and ring finger curved into her sweet spot so sweetly, his thumb lightly grazing her sensitive clit, her sounds strained as she tried to keep herself grounded enough to keep it to herself and not have the others hear. he brought his lip towards her jaw, pressing wet kisses and lightly biting at her smooth, pale skin. “you like that, hm?”

jisu squeaked a bit as an affirmative, her teeth hanging onto the fabric of her sleeves so hard that her jaw could have started to ache at any given moment. her eyes were squeezed shut, too scared too look at the man in front of her, for no particular reason, but perhaps because she was too overwhelmed with the sensation between her legs. she was a little embarrassed, becoming aware of how close she truly was to reaching her climax - after all, he wasn’t holding back. his fingers were rapidly plowing into her, the circles his thumb made around her clit becoming rougher and more focused. but she wasn’t sure it was enough. she was starting to come to terms with the fact that once she had a taste of soobin - of being torn apart by him - she would never be able to get enough.

“soobin,” she said, her voice high-pitched and breathy, and strained due to her struggle to keep her voice down. “please fuck me. need your cock.”

he had been hard since they were alone in the kitchen, wanting - no, needing to feel her tight walls around him. but there was one problem. “i-i want to,” he started softly, his voice husky and laced with lust. “but i didn’t bring anything.”

“just cum in my mouth, please, i just really need to feel you,” she pleaded with him. her core felt like it had been set ablaze, and his fingers, even though she could never stop appreciating them, weren’t satisfying her.

soobin didn’t even take a second to ponder it, immediately reaching down to pull his sweatpants and boxers down to his mid-thigh, his hard length springing out, tip blushing and beginning to leak small droplets of precum. holding her thighs open to his liking, he ran his tip against her heat, coating the sensitive flesh with her arousal, before slowly pushing his hips forward until they met her own, groaning as he bottomed out, her warm, wet walls enveloping him and overtaking his senses. he was so filled with desire for her that he didn’t give her any time to adjust to the intrusion, instead immediately beginning to piston his hips at a moderate pace, clearly too needy to show any patience.

“god, you feel so fucking good,” he said in a whisper, gritting his teeth so as to not let out any loud sounds, looking down to watch as his cock dragged in and out of her soaking heat, her arousal leaving a glistening sheen on his blushing flesh. her walls hugged his member so nicely, the feeling of her around him almost too much to bear - it was the first time he had felt her raw like this, and now that he was getting a taste of it, he wasn’t sure if he could ever go back. he was already feeling so fucked-out, he couldn’t even think straight enough to remind himself that she wasn’t his in the first place. this would probably be the only time this would happen.

jisu had her head buried in his neck, her lips attached to his neck to muffle her whines and her nails digging into the soft fabric of his shirt as the pleasure coursed through her body, the stretch of his cock in her tight cunt something she could never get used to. maybe it was just the idea of nothing being between them like there usually was, maybe it was that all of their friends were just down the hallway and they were in somebody else’s bathroom, but she felt different this time. she felt more sensitive, already on the verge of an orgasm, way quicker than usual, and judging by the squelching sound coming from between her legs, she wasn’t sure she had ever been this aroused in her life.

“i-i think i’m already close,” soobin confessed, his face heating up with embarrassment. obviously, he was far from a virgin, but the sensation of her pussy around him, with nothing between them, was overwhelming him and he could already feel his orgasm rapidly approaching. he suddenly felt like he was years younger, inexperienced again, as he was embarrassingly close to finishing so early on into the affair.

“m-me too,” she said. it made her felt better that he was in the same boat she was. maybe it was for the best, too, because the longer they were away, the more time the others had to ponder their teasing comments and other forms of making the pair feel embarrassed for their actions. “please, wanna cum around you.”

he brought his fingers back to her clit, quickly rubbing harsh circles on the sensitive nub as the pace of his hips suddenly became bruising. it took everything in him to hold off his own orgasm as he worked diligently to bring jisu to her own first, his breath becoming more and more shallow as he felt her walls begin to lightly contract. he watched her body as she was beginning to reach her peak, her stomach caving with heavy breaths and her thighs shaking against the white marble of the countertop.

jisu was seeing stars, her orgasm, even with such little stimulation in comparison with her other times with soobin, hitting her hard. she bit down on his clothes shoulder to hide her cries (only to later realize that she was lucky she didn’t draw blood) as her body shook against him. he fucked her through her high, impressed by his own willpower as he still had managed to keep himself from cumming. he pulled out, slowly stroking himself so as to not lose momentum while allowing her time to recover, though that wasn’t necessary because, with shaky legs, she still managed to slide off of the countertop and kneel down in front of him, taking over by shoving his hand away and wrapping her lips around him, bobbing her head at a faster pace than he had been.

it only took mere seconds before he reached his own climax, clapping his hand over his mouth and moaning against it as ropes of cum filling her mouth. as he had done with her, she worked him through his orgasm until his hips were twitching and he was signaling for her to stop, too out of breath to use his words.

they sat in silence for a bit, both of their bodies being hit with the aftermath of the intense quickie, before they began moving to clean up and put their clothes back on, both nervously awaiting the reactions of their friends.

“th-thank you,” he said to her. “i really needed that.”

she smiled and giggled, always finding it so adorable how quickly his attitude would change from so domineering and serious to sweet and mildly shy in the minutes after they finished. “any time.”

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“you guys cleaned up after yourselves, right?” aeri asked in a jokingly threatening tone as the two walked down the short hallway into the living room. all eyes were on the pair as they reentered the room, giggles being let out as they both quickly turned tomato red at her comment.

neither one of them wanted to say anything, instead just awkwardly returning to where they were previously seated on the floor together, avoiding looking at the others, beside yeonjun and kai, who speaks first after they sit.

“so you allow them to fuck in your bathroom, but when i suggest we do some group bonding, y-”

a baby blue throw pillow collides with the messy tuft of blond on the crown of his head.

“i didn’t let them. besides, they know if they ever do it again, i’ll make sure neither of them have sex with anyone ever again,” aeri grunts. both jisu and soobin slowly, almost comically, turn their heads to look at the girl who returned their gaze with a piercing glare. “are we clear?”

almost too scared, they just nodded, before turning their attention back to the screen that was displaying the loading screen of mario party, silently agreeing to never do that again.

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[septembersghost]

What do you think about Harry as a bf? I am sure he is a nice guy and strives to have good friendship post breakup. However, he seems very flaky unemotional type of boyfriend. Like, I thought Olivia was his really serious relationship. We don't know what happened but what bothers me is that he looks unaffected. It is very jarring for me. It is the reason I never took haylor seriously. He just doesn't seem emotionally invested. At that time, I thought he was not that serious about Taylor but now with Olivia too after 2 years???

i don't think we have enough information on this to make any kind of real judgment, in all honesty. the issues with taylor i feel are fairly clear in both of their music - to quote a friend, "they loved each other, they just didn't love each other right." they were never on the same page with when they wanted to fully commit, so it became that back and forth situationship, and they were VERY young, harry was still figuring things out, and taylor was struggling quite a bit and keeping it hidden or suppressed, and when she wanted him to stay, he didn't, and when he was ready to be serious, it was too late. (he skewers the idea of flaky, unemotional boyfriends on the very song entitled that, i think he's aware of making those mistakes. "to boyfriends everywhere, f**k you" certainly said it. and i think sometimes he can even be overly sensitive, which also shows up repeatedly in his lyricism.) as she said: miscommunications. you're not sure and i don't know. also, the outside pressure had to have been horrible for two young people who just wanted to work out how to be in love without the media's judgment, the cameras following their every move, and the endless harassment from certain sections of fans...it wasn't only about them, it was also the band, it was also the already weighty feeling of hugeness that came along with being taylor swift™ that she now depicts as the monster on the hill. they could never fully be only themselves, so instead they had all that shaky ground and uncertainty and running through the woods. there was never a chance for them to be solid enough to flourish, so it's always a what-if.

in regards to olivia, tbf i just think it ran its course? like prolonged getaway car. that sounds too mean, but the circumstances that brought them together weren't great, and they're at very different life stages (NOT because she's older, which i don't think is a big deal at all. but she does have her children to consider, and she seems to be passionate about her directing career, and that does require more stability and probably a lot more time in LA, and being on a world tour then makes figuring out how to even see one another difficult). they have different priorities. i also feel...that the over-the-top vitriol of the dwd press was extremely stressful and a fracture point. that was distressing to me as a relatively impartial observer, i cannot fathom what it would be like to have to try and exist as the focus of it. that had to have been too much. it would be too much for anyone unless you're absolutely rock solid and plan to be together for life.

what he wrote musically following the taylor breakup feels heartbroken to me. with olivia right now, if he seems unaffected, it's probably a mix of things. he's a performer, he turns "on" that upbeat attitude onstage (and it's an instant serotonin boost, part of what makes performing both wonderful and sometimes damaging/dangerous for people), he's not going to mope about his breakup in front of stadiums, but also, it may be that he realizes this was for the better. and sometimes, even if it's lousy and sad, if something ends for the better, you can feel a sense of lightness. sometimes very passionate things that are short (or crash and burn) can be more painful than something long-term that fades out gradually.

i had a message about this that i didn't answer bc i didn't feel right digging into it, but idk a lot about his other romantic history except camille, and from interviews/comments given around the fine line release, he was quite wounded by that one too. i think he was actually more serious/invested there than maybe she even was. sadness suffuses that album, and some self-reflection/criticism too.

it feels unfair (not you! just in general!) to judge or say he's not affected or not trying. it's different obviously because sexism plays a role in the nasty hatred and negative public treatment that taylor got for years for her breakups, but even so, i hesitate to do that to anyone else, regardless of gender. sometimes things don't work! and you try and they can't be fixed. it's just life, and people. love for people who aren't splashed all over magazines and having invasive questions posed by strangers and selling out stadiums is complicated! fame has to impact that many times over.

the thing for me, is, i don't believe that every comment (outside his romantic endeavors) made about him as a human being could be untrue, and all of them (and there are MANY) are consistent, and describe his thoughtfulness and basic nature in the same way, that kindness doesn't come across as fake. i think about the story of him cleaning up broken glass on the dance floor, it's an anecdote, but it's one of many that are all the same. it's also like...i see "weird" used in a derogatory way towards him a lot, and i don't love that! because being weird/quirky/esoteric doesn't make you not a good person! (not to mention the inane qbaiting debate and negation of his mspec identity which i cannot begin to get into rn. the internet is unnecessarily mean.) the fact that he does continue to be nice/respectful and try to maintain those friendships says a lot as well.

basically, i think it's complex, and humans are multifaceted, and relationships not working out is sometimes simply a part of life. harry just hasn't found whoever the right person is yet. and he's still young, he's only 28. he probably has some growing up left to do. there's plenty of time.

[mythiccheroacademia]

Hey!! Could we please get more sugar daddy fics with a black reader ofc 😋 idk if you've done shoto already but that'd be nice or hawks and deku💕

A/N: “wrist on glitter, waist on thinner, imma show you how to bag a eight-figure nigga” 👅💋 I enjoyed this way too much

All characters are 18+

Warnings: it got a lil spicy so imma put the line 

Todoroki Shouto:

this mf has money to burn 

we all know todoroki came out the womb w cash from his hair to his ass 

he’s on some “yes, jeff bezos knows me” type shit so if you’re tryna end up with someone that’s gonna possibly buy you a house, he’s your guy 

he slid into your dms after you posted a pic with your skin moisturized and glistening under golden hour and your body had him wanting to run laps 

he had been plottin on you for a min but never got the motivation to do something about it until then

he’s a no strings attached type of sugar daddy

todoroki is a big name even outside of hero work and he’s well aware of all the people that have tried to use him. so instead of letting that happen, he’s decided to do things on his own terms 

when yall first started talking, he questioned you like this was managerial position at apple 💀 

best believe he ran an in-depth background check and made you sign an NDA 💀💀💀

he was a tough one

but you passed w flying colors and y’all settled on an arrangement

you have a weekly allowance that hits your bank account every saturday with some bonuses that he’ll give you depending on how the week goes

todoroki isnt needy nor is he one to be all up in your business 

it’s actually weird in an endearing kind of way? 

he only wants to have conversations with you 

i mean, dont get me wrong, he’s up for anything you are

todoroki would be a liar if he said he never ended some nights with a picture of you and a hand down his pants 

but that’s not what he’s mainly looking for 

you figure out very quickly that shouto just wants someone to talk to 

he’ll randomly hit up your phone and have a 30 min convo about something like the weather or hero politics, and then he’ll dip

next thing you know, you got $1000 in your cashapp

you kind of panicked bc like...wtf? 

your dumb ass messaged him: “did you mean to send $1000?”

sis, dont put a question mark where God put a period

him: “Yes.”

and that was the end of that

you dont question anymore

he’s not doting in any kind of way, and sometimes you lowkey think he forgets about you, but you still get your allowance 

doesn’t send a lot of gifts unless you explicitly state you want something

he doesnt text back a lot, but he tried to respond when he can

but i do see him liking it when you send him mundane things you do throughout your day, like pics of cookies you baked, or a cool plant you saw at home depot

and he enjoys the times you and him end up just trashing his father for nearly an hour. expect to find flowers, with some expensive ass coats or something at your door the next morning 

he really fucks w your laid back vibe 

sometimes he forgets you guys arent really supposed to be friends 

Takami Kiego (Hawks):

this is not hawks’ first time being a sugar daddy

he’s hot, rich, and one of the most eligible bachelor’s in japan with a life that prevents him from having anything too serious

so, long story short, he’s a veteran at this 

he used to be the type to reach out to instagram baddies but he had a couple bad run-ins and decided to stick with the official sites because it was a lot more secure on both ends 

the funny thing was, you set up your account a long time ago as a joke. though at one point, you did take it seriously, but you came in contact with a lot of super creepy men that sexualized you for your skin and ethnicity. 

you were tired of the “chocolate king/queen” and “amazonian god/dess” comments,so you took a break. you didnt have much activity since

so imagine youre surprise when the #2 hero hit your line talking about some 

“Hey~ I’ll get straight to the point. I think you’re beautiful and I’d like to talk with you about an arrangement” 

you thought this was a fake account, but after he chatting for a little and sending some pictures, you knew he was the real deal 

hawks is your standard tit-for-tat transaction sugar daddy

he’s the type to hit you up at night with a “how ya doing, dove? got any pics for me?”

he’s good about his respect ad won’t do anything out of line

it’s the bare minimum, be he doesnt fetishize you so that’s always nice 

however, he does make you call him daddy, sir, etc. whether it’s through text, call, or when y’all get together for...reasons

ngl his dicc game is fire

he might ghost you for a week or so but he’ll always come back with a nice check to make up for it 

just be careful about catching feelings bc he’s so fucking smooth. he makes you feel like you’ve got his heart, but dont fall for that shit

if you think you can “change him” or fuflfil whatever wattpad romance fantasy lives in your head, he is not your guy. you better get on w your life before you get your heart broken

he’s here to suck, fuck, send pics, do a little phone call here n there, send some money, and go 

if you’re not with all that, you might as well dip 

but if you’re cool with that, rest assured, you’re gonna be living your best mf life with this man in your wallet 

and good news, you might not be his only, but you are his favorite

there’s just something about you that’s got him giving you a few extra thousand than he normally does 

he doesnt take his sugar babies on proper dates bc he’s gotta stay away from media outlets, but he will invite you to his office for a “lunch break”

if you ever surprise him with a cute but sexy hawks cosplay, you won’t have to work for two whole weeks bc you cant walk  

overall, he’s a good sugar daddy. defintely good for your pockets and any other non-romantic desires you want fulfilled

Mirodirya Izuku:  

the way you two met and came to this arrangement was more or less an accident

the life of the number one pro-hero was lonely and stressful 

he’s tried to dip his toes in the water here and there, but it never worked out because not many people could deal with the fact that he’d always put hero work first

he was teetering on the edge of signing up for one of those sugar daddy/baby websites until he met you at some cafe he passed by 

it’s cliche really. you were his server and, honestly? he was hooked on day one 

he watched you intently as you pranced around in your cute uniform. he couldnt stop admiring your brown skin and eyes and how cute your hair was. you spoke with such enthusiasm and cheerfulness that he couldnt help but swoon. and it didn’t hurt that you were very easy on the eyes

he listened to you as you went on a spiel about how college was a fortune and how you stayed up last night for a project bc you had to pick up extra shifts

that’s when he made his decision

by the time the hero is out of the door, you collected the reciept and almost fainted when you realized he left you a $500 tip and his personal number 

“i enjoyed talking to you today and i hope we can continue that...here’s something small to help with your bills. and i hope this isnt too forward but you’re very beautiful. stay safe. deku.”

and what did you do that night?

you called his ass right back

you were nervous as hell bc you still couldnt believe this was real, but after talking on the phone with him for two hours, an arrangement was set

midoriya is the most gentlemen like sugar daddy out there 

you wake up to good morning texts and a few hundred in your bank account almost every two days 

he goes crazy over your insta posts. and if you wear something green? expect a bonus

takes you out shopping unprovoked 

izuku: “are you busy? i saw you were having a rough week and was wondering if you wanted to go to that new outlet mall downtown”

you: 🏃🏾‍♀️💨  

you most certainly had homework due that night but what tf you look like missing out on that offer? 

it’s after so many “dates” that deku realizes that he prefers hanging around you more than he should but he doesnt wanna ruin anything so he keeps that underwraps 

he’s the idiot that goes into this thinking he won’t fall in love

deku defintely has some dirty thoughts about you but he doesnt try to bring it up unless you do first

if you’re comfortable with anything nsfw, you gone see a whole different side to izuku

he’s a giver, giver, giver, but when he recieves, he just about loses it

send him “innocent” pics of yourself matched with a string of filthy texts and he’ll combust 

when you send him pics of yourself in deku-themed lingre, he deadass sends you a whole black card with your name on it as a thank you

you guys get very comfortable with each other very quickly

soon enough, DA’s start turning into y/n stayng over for a week 

you both realize this relatiosnhip runs a lot deeper than an arrangement when he accidentally let it slip that he told his mom about you 

he’s profusely apologizing but you shut him up with a kiss and tell him that you’ve kinda caught feelings yourself 

your next conversation works out well for the both of you 

[heytherejulietx]

Gold - Bughead

@riverdalepromptathon week 10

Masterlists

Read on AO3 here!

Requests are OPEN!

Prompts;

Daydreaming.

Gold.

Notes - ten weeks in and this is my first time taking part in the promptathon… oops. i’m glad i started though because this fic was so fun to write and i love it so much. though i swear i’ve got like three fics that end the same way this does. oh well, i still like it. enjoy. :)

Warnings - N/A.

Word count - 1.7k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @literarygetaway21 @bc-jh22

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A hand in hers. Lips pressed to her hair. A cold golden band slipping over her ring finger. The thoughts swirled around in her barely-coherent mind as Betty attempted to wake up. Her eyelids fluttered underneath the gentle sunlight that peeked through the curtains to lay across her face and she had to turn her head to the left to get the light off of her eyelids. With a quiet yawn and a stretch of her arms she blinked her eyes open with a gentle smile when she saw her snoozing boyfriend buried underneath their light copper - almost gold - bedsheets beside her.

Betty propped herself up against the headboard and sighed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms for a moment. The memory (or was it her imagination?) of the golden ring made her look down at her hand, though no ring could be seen. She closed her eyes and let her head lean back against the headboard behind her. Had she been dreaming that Jughead had proposed to her?

Just the thought of him proposing made her smile warmly to herself. Betty and Jughead had been together for a good few years again after their high school sweethearts phase had ended for seven years. They had their own house, they had a cat, they both had stable jobs and things to do; far from old worries of serial killers and cults and aliens. They were finally living normal lives. Or, as normal as it could get for them.

The icing on the cake would be to get married to Jughead. It would be the perfect addition to their lives. Of course, eventually Betty also wanted children, though she knew how Jughead felt about that topic. After everything with his dad, he needed to be one-hundred percent ready before he could even think of going through with that next step in their lives, and Betty completely understood that. They had their whole lives ahead of them for that.

Jughead shifted in his sleep beside her and she opened her eyes to look at him with a soft smile. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. There was a time in their lives when the only peace either of them could get was when they were asleep in each other’s arms, and Betty was glad that they didn’t have to live like that anymore. No worry of serial killers or solving murders or devastating breakups. Just them. And their cat, of course.

Almost as if Toffee knew that Betty was thinking of her, a meow could be heard beside the bed before the fluffy creature jumped up onto the bed with Betty, meowing as she climbed into her lap.

“Good morning,” Betty mumbled with a soft smile as she scratched the back of Toffee’s neck, leaning her head down enough to allow the fluffy white cat to nudge the end of her nose with it’s own. With a fond smile towards the creature she ran her hand down her back and stopped at her tail, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Want some breakfast?”

At the mention of food Toffee meowed again and Betty smiled, waiting for Toffee to jump off of the bed so she could get up too. Shuffling into her slippers she slipped on one of Jughead’s shirts before she followed a meowing Toffee out of the bedroom, letting Jughead sleep for a little longer.

Toffee zigzagged between Betty’s legs on the way to the kitchen, meowing loudly on the way. Managing not to trip over her cat by the time she got there Betty reached up towards one of the cabinets in the kitchen and pulled out a tin of wet food, scrunching her nose up in disgust at the smell as she emptied it into Toffee’s bowl before she sat it back on the floor.

With her cat now eating happily Betty moved around the kitchen, gathering what she would need to make scrambled eggs for breakfast. Though as she moved around the room she still couldn’t help but think back to her dream. Of course they had spoken about marriage before; when they had gotten back together again they had both agreed that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, and that certainly included marriage, right?

If they got married then she would no longer be Miss. Cooper - she would be Mrs. Jones. The thought alone had her smiling widely at the frying pan in front of her as she sat it on the stove, an egg in her other hand. It would officially make her a part of his family, although she already knew how welcome she was into the Jones household. Betty was well aware that Jughead welcomed her into his household with open arms from day one when he was living at the trailer, though over time - through staying at the trailer some nights and then living in the same house as them - she grew close with his family too. Jellybean seemed like a little sister to her, even if she took some warming up to, and FP was like a father to her - more so than her own. After everything that had happened with Hal (she refused to refer to him as dad) FP treated her just as his own. And when she saw the man for the first time in seven years he greeted her like she was his daughter. A smile and open arms to hug her immediately. A kiss to her head and a mumble of “I missed you so much, Betty.” He liked her for who she was, not just for Jughead.

If they got married would FP walk her down the aisle? Would he dance with her at the reception? Would he gladly accept her as his daughter-in-law?

Getting along with Jughead’s family would be important, of course, but simply just having Jughead as her husband would be amazing in itself. They already acted like a married couple, but she knew life with him as her husband would be perfect. She could imagine small things like him referring to her as “Mrs. Jones”, calling her his wife and not just his girlfriend, always wearing matching wedding rings so they have something to connect to even when they aren’t together. Holidays together in a secluded cabin, slow dancing at parties, anniversary celebrations; she wanted it all.

She wanted to be married to him.

“You know,” a pair of arms snaked around her waist and held her into an embrace, bringing her out of her daydream. “If you want to cook the eggs, you have to crack them into the pan and not just stare at them.” His voice, though groggy with sleep, held a teasing undertone to it, and she smiled fondly to herself as she shook her head.

“I was just daydreaming. Got away from myself.” Betty mumbled, closing her eyes with a soft sigh as she felt kisses being placed to the back of her neck and wherever her shoulder was exposed.

“Was it about me?” Jughead teased again, and moved his hands to her hips to spin her to face him with a smile.

“It was actually.” Betty giggled, slipping her arms around his waist to tuck herself into him properly, shutting her eyes again as he dropped a kiss to her temple.

“Oh yeah? I’m flattered,” Jughead held her tightly against himself, his hand running across her back underneath the shirt she was wearing. “Can I ask why?”

“I had a nice dream about you.” Betty said softly, smiling to herself as she held onto him a bit tighter, tilting her head upwards slightly to leave a gentle kiss to the bottom of his jawline.

“A nice dream or a nice dream?” He teased, and chuckled as she gently nudged his side.

“A nice dream. It was very sweet. I don’t remember much about it but I know it made me really happy.” Betty said softly.

She looked up at Jughead as he hummed and leaned back slightly, and she leaned into his hand as he lifted it to rest against her cheek. It was moments like that when she knew that being married to Jughead would be perfect. They didn’t need to go on dates all the time or do fancy things to be happy with each other. Just having each other’s company was enough for them. All they needed was each other.

His hand cupped her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her and Betty smiled against his lips as her hands gently gripped onto his shoulders. They stood there for a few minutes, enjoying gentle touches and soft whispers between each other which only they would get, before they both felt fur brushing against their legs and an impatient meow following.

Betty pulled away with a pout as she looked down at Toffee who was looking directly at Jughead. “She likes you more than me.” She complained.

Jughead chuckled as he leaned down to lift Toffee into his arms, letting the cat nudge his face as she started purring. “I am very likeable.” He joked.

Betty fondly rolled her eyes and turned away from him and back towards the stove to turn it on, actually starting to fix their breakfast that time without getting distracted. “Of all people you don’t have to tell me that.” She pointed out, and heard him laugh behind her as he pressed a kiss to her head.

“Good point.”

As she focused on the eggs, she didn’t see Jughead move across the kitchen to where he had left his work bag on the table from the day before. She missed his hand reaching into one of the side pockets from which he pulled a velvet ring box. She didn’t see the sun reflecting on the golden band as he opened the box to check it was still inside. As Betty stirred the eggs Jughead slipped the ring box into his jacket which was hanging on one of the coat hooks by the door way; the jacket he’d be wearing out later that day when he took her out for lunch at their favourite restaurant. Where he would hopefully quite literally make a dream come true.

[fullmetalscullyy]

royai week day 4 - communiqué

summary: roy has an announcement to make to everyone

rated: g | words: 2084 | tags: royai, post-canon, romance, marriage, marriage announcement, marriage of convenience, kinda? bc they just have~ to do it but it works out for them, basically royai using royai to further their agenda

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

“Good afternoon,” Roy greeted with confidence into the microphone atop the podium in front of him. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared back expectantly, and while that should have been unnerving, his excitement at the upcoming announcement kept the feeling at bay. This communiqué had been a long time coming, crafted from years of subtle diversion, and playing a tactical game. Now, it was coming to fruition. It was all still part of their game, but Roy had a personal stake in this part of it too. It was still a win for both parties involved.

A huge personal win.

Up there, on the podium, he was completely exposed. While that was dangerous for someone like him with such high political standing, Roy trusted the eyes that were watching his back implicitly. He does not turn complacent, but is more than confident in their abilities. He trusts each and every one of his subordinates to ensure the day goes well and without incident.

“Today’s announcement,” Roy continued, “will hopefully put to rest any fears you may have had regarding me assuming the role of your leader. Fuhrer Grumman has led this country exceptionally well over the last five years but feels ready to step down. As you all know, I have been named his successor and will make a promise to you all now, this country’s citizens, that I will do my utmost to ensure I do my best by you.”

There was a pleased applause after he finished, accompanied by a quiet murmur.

He meant every word, but that was not the reason Roy had taken the stage that day.

“I would also like you to know that I’ve heard the rumours surrounding me,” he smirked, letting his gaze sweep across the crowd before him. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed how this had piqued the interest of those in the audience with the various media outlets. Their ears perked up at the mention of rumours, understandably. “I am aware of the public’s opinion on a bachelor like myself being given the title of Fuhrer. However, I have come here today to offer my reassurances.”

Some people in the crowd turn to one another, momentarily confused by what he’s saying. Roy smirked to himself, thinking of his own private joke before he opened his mouth to finally reveal to the world something he has wanted to for over two decades.

“As you can imagine, this will be a busy transition period for us, so I hope you will extend your respect, as well as privacy, to both myself and my new fiancé as we navigate this new chapter in our lives. I can assure you though, an official date for my upcoming wedding will be announced soon.”

It was like the crowd had frozen. A few jaws went slack, and mouths parted in shock as they processed the news faster than others.

“More news will come in due time. Thank you.”

With a simple bow of his head, Roy stepped back from the microphone and turned to look at the stunned officials up there with him. Breda and Havoc approached, nonplussed by the news, and started to escort him off the stage.

There was a split second where the world was completely still, as everyone was still processing what he’d just announced. Then, everything felt like it exploded. The crowd erupted into applause and cheers. Cameras flashed in desperation to capture the moment that Roy Mustang, the most eligible bachelor in Amestris and a well-known womaniser in his younger years, announced he was engaged, and his wedding would be announced soon.

Roy can hear some of the questions being yelled by the reporters.

“Who are you due to marry?”

“What’s her name?”

“General Mustang! When did this happen?”

He ignored them all, for all would be revealed in due time. It was enough for now that it had been announced. Roy never planned on revealing anything else other than that today anyway. He would have loved to. He can’t wait for the day he can finally give the order to give the announcement, but he must hold off. The mystery will drum up interest in their favour. It will draw eyes to them and get people talking. No other Fuhrer had caused quite as much a stir as he had, and Roy wasn’t even officially in office yet. He was popular and well liked among the masses. Not as much as the Fullmetal Alchemist, the alchemist of the people, but Roy’s work over the years had built up a perfectly crafted reputation for him. It played well into his plans.

A womaniser who announces he’s settling down with someone who is a complete mystery. It was interesting news. Especially for the imminent ruler of the country.

The public ate it up, desperate to know. Out the corner of his eye he could already see heads bowed together in excitement as they gossiped about the news while Roy walked off the stage.

He was led by his security team into a private room within the building behind them. Havoc gave him a quick nod in response to his order, reaching for the door handle and pulling it closed behind him. Breda was down the hall, already speaking into microphone after microphone in order to soothe public relations about the surprise announcement. Poor guy, but he did volunteer. Having Breda assure them, but give nothing away, would only cause more intrigue. If Roy went out there and spoke to them all, they’d never let him leave.

His shoulder slumped now he was away from prying eyes. Not with fatigue, but just to relax. The initial phase had finally started, and his plans were set in motion. While he did have a personal stake in this and was more than happy to go along with it, it could certainly be draining. But then again, nothing had ever been simple between them.

The door opened as he was pouring himself a glass of water. He reached for a second glass and smirked, not turning around because he knew who it was who’d entered. His order to Havoc was to permit only one person entrance to the room.

“Did you really have to do it so dramatically?”

There was a grin on his face as he turned on the spot, coming face to face with his fiancé. Well, according to the country, she was still his fiancé. Nobody, except from them and his team, was aware that they were already married, and had been so for a while. While touring Aerugo last month they’d taken a clandestine trip to one of the islands off the coast to the south. It was just the two of them, the team, and his mother in attendance. Gracia had made the trip, and so had Edward and Alphonse, along with their respective families. Everyone who mattered most to Roy was there to witness them come together as a couple.

Marriage was not the be all and end all for him and Riza. They already knew where they stood with each other and what their relationship was. They had done so for years, and the ring that nestled comfortably on the end of his dog tags proved that. The legal document was just a formality at this point and given his current position as leader of the country, it would be necessary. So, they’d compromised. A private, personal ceremony for them to do things their way, exchanging the rings they’d already given each other years ago. The grand wedding that was yet to come was for the masses, not for them. Once the official ceremony happened, he would move the ring onto his ring finger where it had always belonged and where he’d always wanted to wear it.

Riza’s lifted one eyebrow expectantly, awaiting his answer.

“They expect a show,” he shrugged, “so I’m going to give it to them.”

“So, our official wedding is just a show,” she deadpanned.

His expression softened at her light teasing. “Our official wedding has already happened,” he reminded her. “In case you had forgotten, we are already legally married.”

“I hadn’t,” she placated as she approached him, “but you need to stop talking about it so openly. You were the one who suggested keeping it a secret, and the walls have ears,” she replied cryptically. Once close enough, she brushed a piece of invisible lint off his immaculate uniform and his shoulder tingled where she’d ran her hand over it.

“Let them listen,” he shrugged again. Roy lifted a hand to rest upon her hip as he grasped one of hers, lifting them both to rest between their bodies. He bent his head forward and kissed the backs of her knuckles, a small, fond smile playing on his lips. “It doesn’t matter now that our news is out.”

“Part of the news is out,” she reminded him. “You were quite adamant about only revealing some of the truth so early on,” Riza smirked. “It will be a busy transition period for us, after all,” she quoted back to him with mock sympathy.

His eyes rolled fondly.

“So,” she continued, extracting her hand from his and taking a step backward to put some distance between them. Roy felt like a petulant child, pouting at her actions. “We must keep up pretences and give ourselves the time and space we need to adapt to our new circumstances and navigate through it.”

“You’re no fun,” he complained, his tone nearly a playful whine.

“I know, dear,” she replied, sounding like she didn’t particularly care he felt that way. Roy was only joking though, of course.

“How did it look from up there?”

Riza’s perch had been on the roof of the building behind him, on the lookout for anyone who may wish harm upon him, along with her own elite security team.

She snorted lightly. “I will admit, it was entertaining to see the looks on their faces.”

“They were very surprised,” he chuckled, pleased with himself.

“It’s never a dull moment with you.”

“I would hope not because you’re stuck with me now, fiancé,” he grinned.

“Unfortunately,” she deadpanned quietly. When he scowled at her, she laughed loudly, her smile reaching her eyes.

For a moment, Roy is enraptured by her beauty. Her grin lit up his whole world and the sound of her laughter pulled at the stings of his heart pleasantly.

He is married to this woman, he thought to himself, and still couldn’t quite believe it.

After so long… After so many years of ignoring feelings and holding back – or trying to – now he didn’t have to.

Although it was his plan to delay the information given, he really wished it wasn’t. He wanted to go back out there and tell everyone how much he loved and cherished this woman before him.

All in due time. And the pay off when that day finally comes will be so worth it.

They’ve both waited for so long. Roy could stick it out for a few more days. What was more important was holding this woman close and loving her so freely like he has always wanted, and Roy planned to do just that.

Riza smirked and didn’t shrug him off as Roy wrapped his arms tightly around her frame. He pulled her close and kissed her, trying to convey just how much he loved her with one kiss alone. She hummed against his lips pleasantly as her arms lifted to loop around his neck. One hand slowly, tantalisingly, trailed up the back of his neck, making him shudder. She noticed and grinned against him. When her nails scratched lightly against his scalp and Roy groaned, Riza’s smile widened. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. She could play him like a fiddle, but Roy didn’t mind at all. There’s no way he was going to stop her ministrations when they felt so good.

“I love you,” he breathed. His chest heaved with his breath and the words almost got stuck in his throat, both from the emotions overwhelming him and their passionate kiss.

“Love you too, Roy.” When she pulled away to look at him, Roy didn’t let her move far. Their noses were almost touching but he could see her expression soften. She looked so happy and content. So in love. Which was exactly how he felt too.

They both couldn’t wait to start this new chapter in their lives together.

[writesowhatnext]

how many branches does an olive tree have? // draco malfoy

Summary: Hufflepuff!reader might be the only person that’s shown Draco some actual human kindness… maybe that’s why he’s so fond. Or maybe it’s the desserts.

Request: do u mind writing a draco malfoy or one of the weasley twins hanging out with (and eventually dating) hufflepuff reader and they always return to their common rooms with baked goods/little notes?

A/N: I thought I’d have a bit of fun with this one bc I’ve never written Draco before and I thrive off of slytherinxhufflepuff so I really hope the draco isn’t too ooc and that this isn’t too long also I diverged a little but I hope you like still ++++ this is less proofread than I would’ve liked

Reader: unspecified Hufflepuff

Warnings: mean draco??

It didn’t surprise anyone, least of all you, how much Draco Malfoy disliked you at first. He had a bit of a reputation and whilst you didn’t wish to speak ill of anybody, everybody you knew considered Draco Malfoy to be spoilt, snot-nosed, selfish, haughty and spiteful. But what you noticed whenever he would provoke Harry Potter, or walk through the corridors alone, or sit studying in the library until the early hours, was how sad he looked sometimes. And so, despite the awful things you’d heard about him, you always felt rather soft when you thought of him. Even when he was being a raging arsehole.

“Hi,” you said, smiling from your seat. You were oddly optimisitc about your first lesson with the Slytherins. “I’m Y/N.”

Draco looked at you as if shocked you were even daring to speak to him, his icy blonde eyebrows drawn down and his eyes stormy. “And?”

You leant back when he turned away, clearing your throat and shuffling the parchment around on the table. You decided it wouldn’t be helpful to remind him he wasn’t your first choice of partner in Muggle Studies, either.

“So, your task is to research ten muggle inventions-“ Professor Burbage began, only to be interrupted by Draco.

“Can’t imagine why they want us to do that,” he snorted, his friends sitting behind you hanging off his every word. “Muggles have never invented anything worthwhile.”

His friends guffawed, shocking the professor. You just frowned, watching how Draco thrived off of the attention with a strange sadness.

You didn’t see him again until around a week later when you retreated to the library for a few hours before curfew. You weren’t looking for him, but it was hard not to spot his platinum hair at a table, alone in the back. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you debated just going to an empty table and leaving well enough alone, but then you remembered his sad eyes and your feet carried you over to him before you could stop them.

“Hey,” you said, biting your lip as you stood by one of the empty chairs, holding your books tightly. “Would it be alright if I sat here?”

He looked up at you sharply, the same half-confused, half-outraged expression in his eyes. His gaze was steady on your face for a moment before he huffed, returning to his work.

“If you must.”

You sat with him for hours in complete silence, both of you just doing your work. It wasn’t until the table began to shake with the movement of his elbow that you even looked at him. His face was scrunched up into a scowl as tried to scratch the rest of the ink from his empty pot. The sound of the quill hitting against the glass was loud and you knew Madam Pince would be over sometime soon to scold him. You figured that he’d never ask to use your inkpot, far too proud to ask for help, and so you just slid it over gently so it settled in the centre of the table, your intention obvious. His eyes on you were heavy, even as you tried to work out exactly why you would add Valerian Root to Draught of the Living Dead. The clinking of his quill stopped as he stared at you and despite yourself, you glanced up at him and offered a polite smile before turning back to your parchment.

Draco had no idea what to make of it. As he watched you scribbling on some parchment, confusion settled on his brow. Why, he thought, would a Hufflepuff he barely knew offer to help him? Part of him wanted to shove the inkpot back, too stubborn to accept help from someone like you, but the other part of himself, a part he didn’t get along with all too well, told him to shut up and take it.

And as you looked up, shooting him a brief smile that only served to deepen the crease on his forehead, he gave in and dipped his quill into the inkpot without another word. He tried not to look at you after that, sure you would enjoy seeing Draco Malfoy so weak. He could practically feel the ashamed flush on his cheeks and he hated it. But you could tell, despite his gruff façade, that he was grateful because when he stood up to leave, he stared at you for slightly too long as he placed the inkpot nearer to you and all but ran from the library without a single snarky comment or dirty glance.

Thanks only to your determination, that happened a few more times. Sure, Draco made absolutely certain to bring his own inkpot, but he looked less murderous each time you asked to sit down. One cold night with a bitter wind and a Transfiguration test you’d completely forgotten hounding at your heels, you rushed to the library. You were stopped only once on the way directly outside your common room by one of your favourite house-elves, who shoved a mini-basket of cookies into your hands, insisting that you stay warm in the cold temperatures. Whilst you were still panicking about the test, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside at the gift, a smile lifting your cheeks at how sweet it was. You rushed to your usual table, throwing the basket and your bag onto the desk and meandering through the shelves to find any books you could on the history of Transfiguration. Happy with the eight you’d found, and perhaps a little concerned you’d gone overboard, you retreated back to the table, pleasantly surprised to see a familiar mop of platinum blond.

“Hello, Draco,” you said, smiling as you set the books down. He didn’t look at you, only nodding, his focus on a textbook in front of him. You grinned anyway, enjoying the little routine you’d formed with him. It must’ve been only twenty minutes later when you crunched down on one of the biscuits you’d been given, surprised to meet a pair of grey eyes when you looked back up. He frowned at the cookie in your hand as you smiled bashfully, not intending to be caught.

“Oh,” you said, scolding yourself for being rude. “Would you like one?”

His head shot up at your question, that permanent frown still in place. He didn’t answer at first and you were afraid for a moment that you’d broken one of the unspoken rules of your acquaintanceship; the ones that only Draco seemed to know. To say you were shocked when he nodded very subtly was an understatement, but anyone with half a brain could tell how glad you were as you offered him the basket.

He looked down at the cookie in his long, pale hand as if it would bite him back. Before he ate it, though, he settled his wrists on the edge of the table and stared at you with a curiosity you’d never seen on him before.

“It’s Y/N, right?” he asked, wetting his lips.

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, stunned that he’d remembered. You watched him think for a moment; you could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he broke off a piece of the biscuit and brought it to his lips. It was obvious that he was deciding something but you didn’t understand what until he met your eyes again.

“Did you make these?”

His voice was stiff and unsure and you could tell how out of his depth he felt, whether it was saying more than two words to you or attempting small talk that was so unfamiliar you couldn’t say.

“No, one of the house-elves gave them to me.”

“House-elves?” he said, voice full of disgust. You frowned.

“The little creatures that work in the kitchens.”

“I know what they are,” he hissed, scowling. He swallowed harshly when he saw your face fall and for a second, he regretted his venom. “So, you’re- you’re what? Friends with them?”

As abhorrent as the idea clearly seemed to him, you appreciated how conflicted he looked, vindicated slightly at the sight of Draco Malfoy actually considering someone else’s feelings.

“Yep, they’re lovely,” you beamed, stirring something inside him. “And ever so kind.”

He just nodded, biting into the biscuit you’d given him and mulling over what you’d told him. Him saying nothing, you decided, was certainly leagues better than saying something horrible.

When he left that day, you made sure to force him to take a few more cookies, well aware that you couldn’t eat them all on your own and hoping more than anything that he’d accept it as an offering of friendship.

“Take more, please, go on.”

“I don’t…“ he trailed off, looking at you with a guarded expression.

“Please?” you begged, lifting the basket towards him. “For me?”

His eyes darted to yours as he inspected your pouting features and wide eyes, a strange fondness pulling at his chest. The way his mouth curled up ever so slightly before it was replaced with his signature grimace didn’t escape you and you grinned as he grabbed a few more, filling his pockets. He took a couple steps away before stopping short and spinning on his heel to face you.

“Thank you,” he nodded, looking very out of place, his words rushed and foreign. You didn’t mind, though, as he walked away. You just sat there, head in your books and a growing smile on your lips. You’d have to bring more desserts, you thought.

No one had confused Draco Malfoy quite like you. Not even Potter had the same irritating effect on him. And unfortunately, despite his efforts, people were starting to notice.

“Draco, what are you staring at?” Pansy asked him during breakfast, drawing his eyes away from your laughing face, your bright yellow tie.

“Nothing,” he huffed. “What are you looking at?”

Annoyance sparked in him as they laughed at his poor attempt to deflect the question.

“Is it that Hufflepuff you’re always eyeing?” Pansy pressed, an undercurrent of jealousy behind her wary curiosity.

“What?” his eyes flicked back to see you smile at him and once again, a strange feeling flooded his system.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said with much less bite than he usually would’ve. “What would I want with a Hufflepuff?”

As they laughed, moving on to another topic, he asked himself the same thing.

The next few times you saw Draco properly were in the library; he would only talk to you there, lest someone saw you and his precious reputation be ruined. You didn’t care about someone seeing you spending time together, but you let it be given how important it was to him. It was hard to say that it didn’t bother you at all, though, especially with how well you and he seemed to get along, particularly when you brought him treats. First, it was just whatever the house-elves would be kind enough to give you; biscuits here, a slice or two of cake there. When you noticed that Draco seemed to have a taste for chocolate, you started making specific requests, always making sure to give the elves clothes and some company in return. Seeing Draco walk out of the library with full pockets and a barely suppressed smile was the highlight of your day and it had, surprisingly, become an everyday occurrence. You would even go as far as to call you and Draco friends.

“Y/N,” Draco said, frowning as he wrote his Astronomy essay. You hummed, looking up to see his eyes on you. Your heart warmed at how comfortable and relaxed he looked, a far cry from how tense he’d been to start with.

“Do you know which constellation that old bat Sinistra told us to include?”

You rolled your eyes at his name-calling, shaking your head. “Nope, sorry, I’m absolutely hopeless at Astronomy. Haven’t even started the essay.”

He grimaced for a moment before pausing and brushing at the feathers of his quill nervously with his thumb.

“I could help you,” he said, gauging your reaction. “My Father says Astronomy is a subject so useless that even muggles can do it-“ he stopped himself then. He wasn’t quite sure why he cared what you thought of him, but he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t appreciate him talking badly about muggles and so, even though everything he’d ever said was just a regurgitation of his Father’s words, he clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m quite good at it,” he said, softer this time. “I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two.”

In all fairness to you, whilst you knew that Draco had the capacity for kindness, you didn’t quite expect him to extend it to you and certainly not enough to answer his offer with anything but a series of blinks. He was growing nervous at your lack of reply, already thinking about how foolish he’d been to even offer. Why was he even hanging around with a Hufflepuff anyways? If his father found out, he would be furious-

“I’d love that,” you said gently, interrupting his downward spiral. He visibly perked up at your response and even his face looked younger as you drew your first full smile from him. You couldn’t help but think that he looked rather more handsome when he smiled.  

“Alright,” he said, nodding. “Meet you at the Astronomy Tower tonight?”

He noticed your reluctance, frowning immediately.

“What if we get caught?”

You expected his cocky grin even less than you expected his offer in the first place.

“It’ll be fine.” he said, before his face softened. “Trust me.”

The rest of the day, you tried to convince yourself that you were nervous at breaking curfew and not at the prospect of seeing Draco outside your usual library hours. As you crept towards the Tower, flinching and ducking away from every sound that echoed through the castle corridors, you pulled at your jumper, stretching it over your hands with nervous fingers. You were barely halfway through the doorway when something behind you made a loud thudding noise and you turned, not paying enough attention as you slammed into someone. A squeak left your mouth at the impact but before you could make more of a racket, a hand covered your lips and you were left staring up at Draco Malfoy, shocked that you hadn’t noticed quite how tall he was before.

He looked at you with dark eyes and you realised that even without his hand covering your mouth, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe anyway, not with him looming over you like that. As if it didn’t faze him at all, he pulled his hand away from your mouth to his lips, shushing you gently. You nodded, not trusting your voice. Beckoning you to follow him up the stairs, you shadowed him quietly, distracting yourself with the view. When you reached the top, you lunged towards one of the windows, gasping as you looked at the whole of Hogwarts beneath you.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, leaning over the stone windowsill, your face against the wind. Draco didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You look different without your robes.”

You turned to him, surprised to see him watching you so intently. Not knowing what to say, you just smiled. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s get started.”

You started off well-intentioned, listening to him dutifully explain the difference between Ursa Major and Minor, the story of Andromeda and what not, but you couldn’t help but get distracted by the view, the stars spread out around you.

“Are you even listening?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You smiled bashfully at getting caught, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Of course, I am,” you insisted, placing your palm on his bicep, a touch that didn’t go unnoticed. “Carry on.”

He stared at you for a moment, shaking his head. A fond smile pulled at his lips as he stood up, offering you his hand. You hesitated before taking it, letting him haul you to your feet. With your hands still intertwined, he dragged you over to the edge of the tower, pulling you so you leant on your elbows next to him, your arms touching. It seemed as if you were both avoiding ignoring the feeling fo your palms pressed together.

“That,” he said, pointing up to a series of stars with his free hand. “Is Draco.”

You looked at him as he stared up at his namesake, watching his expression flood with a pride.

“The dragon,” you whispered, eyes widening as his head swung around, leaving the both of you closer together than anticipated. He let himself examine your face, taking in every detail, from your brow to your cheeks to your lips; ever so slowly, memorising every curve.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, his eyes soft. You bit the inside of your cheek, smiling slightly.

“No one else brings you cakes? That’s a tragedy.”

He huffed a laugh, the corners of his lips curling up.

“I’m inclined to agree.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

@staringmoony​

@rexorangecouny​

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

@peachesandpinks​

[roguerogerss]

Hi babe! I saw you wanted some requests so here I am! Could you do a Bucky x reader where the reader has secret telekinesis abilities (or whatever Wanda can do lmao) and is forced to use them on a mission. Bucky is just in shock bc his secret crush is a even more of a badass, so when he compliments her powers, she gets flustered and disagrees bc they’re dangerous, so Bucky helps her see the beauty in them? Tysm ❤️❤️

His Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

W/C: 3.9k (eek sorry!)

Warnings: Language (??), that's literally it.

(A/N: This one got away from me a little and I wrote wayyy more than anticipated. I hope u like it though? Idk. I had so much fun with this request, thank u sm bb! Praying that someone reads this, even though it's a whole ass novel.)

————

"Bucky, where are you? We have a minute and eight seconds until this place blows."

Y/N was worried, and, upon hearing her frantic voice in his intercoms, Bucky was too. He was aware that he didn't have long until the bomb detonated, but unaware of just how short that amount of time was. He was caught up in a fight, one that was frustrating in the way that he couldn't shake this guy. "Yeah, be there in five?"

He was being sarcastic, he must've been being sarcastic, Y/N shook her head and pressed her fingers to her temples, agitated. "Five what? Five seconds? Minutes? Bucky, I have to ask, are you insane?"

She seemed angry - no, she was most definitely angry - and Bucky silently cursed himself and allowed the Hydra agent to get a hit in, he thought he probably deserved it. "Look, I'll get out. Is there anything you guys can do to buy me some more time?"

Tony had chimed in by this point, telling Bucky that he was 'fucking crazy', ranting and raving to the heavens above about how the entire motive had been messed up and they might as well have stayed home. Y/N knew that she could help him, but that would mean using them - she didn't like to call them by the name that most would use - and she wasn't sure if it was really worth the risk. Bucky would get out, right? He'd work something out.

But time was ticking on, fifty-nine seconds now, and she was unsure of just how right that assumption was. She wasn't even entirely sure that she still had her powers, since she'd avoided using them or telling anyone that they existed since she'd escaped from the grasp of Hydra. Even as she doubted her abilities, she found herself rising from her seat behind the control panels of the Quinjet, next to Steve, and sprinting to the exit to the aircraft.

"Y/N, where are you going?" Steve asked, getting up and following her. The rest of the team were staring now, Natasha and Tony also standing from their places and looking expectantly in Y/N's direction.

"I have something that'll help. Something that you guys don't know about." She said sheepishly, slamming her palm down on the button that opened the exit hatch. "Don't worry, I've got this."

Even though she was promising her friends that everything would be okay, they seemingly didn't believe her, as all five of the other Avengers on the ship - Tony, Nat, Steve, Sam and Thor - followed her out onto the streets of Bucharest, where the public was in awe at the huge, futuristic ship that was sat in the middle of a narrow, cobbled street. Natasha had told them to go home, she'd made the best effort she could to make sure that everyone was safe. However, no one had listened, and so she desperately ushered them away from the place that she knew would soon be rubble, while Y/N ran in search for Bucky.

They had what they'd came for, but that didn't mean that there were no Hydra agents willing to get into altercations with the team. Thor and Steve were frantically fighting off a pack of them, while Tony and Sam helped Y/N, hopefully getting a better view of the streets and where Bucky might be. "Hey, Y/N, I got him. Turn right, next street over. You'll see him." Sam spoke into the intercoms. Y/N thanked him, hurrying off in search of the super-soldier to whom she'd taken more than a liking to over the few months that he'd been fighting with them.

"Buck, I'm on my way, you better be ready to get the fuck out of here." Bucky's eyebrows furrowed as he wondered why Y/N, of all people, was the one who was coming to save him. He had to admit, he was more embarrassed than anything else, needing the help of the one girl who he'd felt anything for in seventy years. But he tried to brush it off, mostly because he had to focus on not letting a Hydra agent rip his arm off, and answered her.

"What are you gonna do? If I can't fight him off, no offence, but what makes you think you'll be able to?" Bucky sounded breathless, and she could hear the obvious sounds of strain and struggle as he continued to tussle with the agent. Y/N took a deep breath and turned the corner, close enough to hear the ominous beeping of the explosive device that a Hydra agent had planted there in hopes of causing harm to one of the Avengers.

"You know what, maybe don't question it. I have my own doubts, but it certainly doesn't help that you have them too."

The agent, who was currently deep in a brawl with Bucky, noticed Y/N, but all that she was able to think about was the amount of time that was left on the clock. She asked FRIDAY, and a rush of adrenaline and fear coursed through her when she realised that they weren't going to get out in time.

Ten, nine, eight, seven,

Y/N drew her gun and shot the Hydra agent, not missing as usual, and Bucky snorted. "Couldn't have done that earlier?"

Four, three, two,

She knew that this was it. It was either expose the world to her powers, probably be deemed as a weapon and certainly become even more wanted by Hydra, or die, and let her friends die too. She took a deep breath and felt the horribly familiar surge of - what was it, electricity? She wasn't actually sure - coursing through her body, and watched as Bucky ogled at the purple wisps of magic that extended from her hands and the way that her irises seemed to ignite.

One.

Bucky ducked and shielded his face, but looked up again when he didn't hear, nor feel anything that would signal an explosion had happened. Y/N had it under control, holding the bomb together with just her fingertips. She'd thought that it wouldn't happen, that her abilities would've simply subsided into nothingness due to being unused for so long, but she was wrong. She'd done it, and there was no going back now.

And then? The small explosion turned huge, and lurched forwards, setting a civilian apartment building completely alight. Y/N stood, watching, mouth wide open and quite unable to understand the circumstances of what the hell just happened. Bucky was at her side, a hand on her shoulder as he, too, watched the destruction take place. The rest of the team had rushed straight there, each one of them with hands over agape mouths while Steve called for Fire and Rescue and Tony wondered aloud, 'What the fuck is going on?'

Y/N found herself on her knees. She could see and hear Bucky in front of her, worry in his eyes as a few tears dripped from her chin onto her chest, but she didn't have it in her to decipher what his words meant, they all just sounded muffled and like he was speaking a language that she didn't understand.

She didn't know what she'd done, how bad it was, but she could hear the screams of the residents of the building, she could feel them vibrating through her body and ringing in her ears, and that was enough to convince her that her enhancements truly were the worst thing about her, that she really was the weapon that Hydra had deliberately mutated her to be.

--------

It had been hours. How many, Y/N was unsure, but a considerable amount of time had passed since they'd gotten home. The flight back from Bucharest had consisted of Y/N locking herself in a cabin, and the rest of the people on the Quinjet taking it in turns to try to speak to her, to try to understand.

No one, apart from Bucky, (who only had a vague idea), knew what had happened. There wasn't a single person on the jet who could fully understand it, Y/N included.

She was now sat on a sofa in the lounge, chewing off parts of her nails while everyone murmured and tiptoed around her. Tony was speaking quickly on the phone and glancing at her every couple of seconds, Steve was pacing back and forth along the length of the room.

Y/N wondered for a minute what would happen. Would she be arrested? Would something like the accords happen again? Was she about to become the cause of another civil war? Would Tony disown her? Send her back to Hydra? She didn't know. She didn't think she wanted to know.

Wanda and Natasha had come to comfort Y/N at first, sat with her and braided her hair like they did often, and it was nice to think that Wanda knew exactly what she was going through.

However, she'd told them that she wanted to be alone, and they'd dispersed and were sitting quietly in two separate armchairs, watching a movie with Sam. The truth was, she didn't really want to be alone. She wanted Bucky. She didn't quite know why, but she'd always felt calm around him, which was one of the reasons why she'd taken such a shine to him, and she made it very clear to herself that she was at least a little bit in love with Bucky, in a way that was less platonic and more romantic.

She couldn't lie and say that she was happy with the way that he'd handled things, though. As soon as the jet landed, he mumbled something about taking a shower and hurried off to his room, like he couldn't stand to be around her for any longer, like he was afraid of her.

And, honestly? She wouldn't be surprised if he was.

The truth, of course, wasn't that Bucky didn't want to see her, it wasn't that he was afraid of her, it was that she was evidently upset. It was tearing him apart to have to see her like that. He felt like he was obligated to be alone to think about what had happened, because he knew that - realistically - it was his fault that she'd had to use her powers. He'd been caught up in a fight, the bomb that had been planted was seconds away from detonating, she had to do something. Of course, he had no idea that something was going to be exposing hidden telekinetic abilities to the world, but close enough, right?

"I just got off the phone with a higher up." Tony stood in the middle of the lounge, everyone looking at him as he began his speech. "Everything's gonna be fine. Just, maybe don't turn on the news for a couple days, Y/N doesn't need to see that."

"Don't act like I'm a kid, please." Y/N spoke up, making it clear that she was annoyed by the fact that everyone was seemingly ignoring that it was her who had done this. "I did this, Tony. I want to know how much damage I caused."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, shaking his head at her. "No, this is not the time to get all Steve-y on me, okay? You don't need to see it, you don't need to know, so you're not going to. Is that clear to you?"

"Mistakes happen, Y/N. It's not your fault." Steve said from where he was standing, next to the breakfast bar. "What matters is that you tell us what actually happened at some point."

"So, what I'm going to take from that, is that it's bad." She turned from Steve, back to Tony. "I'm not weak, I can deal with what I did, Tony."

Tony snapped, the stress of the situation and the argument from his daughter-figure becoming too much for him to handle, "Goddamn it, Y/N, you really wanna know what you did? Let's see, first of all, you used whatever powers you have, something that you clearly knew about but warned no one of. Second of all, you essentially bombed an apartment building in a poor part of Romania, you literally took from the poor. And now what? Fifty-five people are dead, kids have been left without parents, and that's on my back. Plus, you're being publicly deemed as a weapon until they figure out what's really going on there. So, do tell us, what is really going on there?"

"Tony. Stop." Wanda said, but Y/N was already halfway out of the room, with Tony realising that he probably shouldn't have said what he did and following after her.

"Y/N, hey, I'm sorry, okay?" Tony called, but she wasn't listening. She got in the elevator and left Tony alone in the hallway without a word, tears threatening to spill from her eyes the whole time.

And then, finally, they did. When the doors of the elevator closed, when she could no longer hear Tony's voice, when she was alone, oh they did. She found herself on the floor, face cradled in her hands - the same hands that killed fifty-five people just hours before - and there were tears falling from her eyes, past her chin, soaking her black catsuit.

She felt empty, like her body was a shell and she was simply there, watching herself fall apart. It was a kind of guilt, one that ate at her from the inside and seared through every nerve, every part of her, until she could think of doing nothing but curling up and ceasing to exist. She wanted to yell, scream, punch something, run. Anything that would distract her from how she felt. She wanted to sleep for a week, maybe two, forget about everything and ignore her responsibilities until it hurt less. Most importantly, however, she wanted Bucky. She wanted now more than ever to be his girl. For him to lay with her and tangle his fingers in her hair and whisper sweet things in her ear until the bad things in the world simply melted away.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, but Y/N didn't get up, not until FRIDAY asked if she wanted to go to another floor. When she did, however, she found herself taking the wrong turn, to the left instead of to the right, and walking away from her room instead of towards it. Without thinking, she'd already opened the door to Bucky's room, where he was reclined lazily on his bed, a pair of sweatpants on and nothing else, focused on the ceiling.

He furrowed his eyebrows at her when she gave him a tiny little smile, but sighed when he noticed the remnants of her somewhat breakdown on her face. Bucky held his arms open, "Hey, c'mere."

She stepped into his embrace, tears finding their way onto her face again, and let him caress her back and play with her hair until the crying stopped. When Bucky held her, everything felt different, like she could put things into perspective and understand that maybe it wasn't all her fault. "Look, I know you think that this is the end of the world. I know it's scary, but Wanda learned how to use her powers for good. You can do the same." Bucky's attempt at comforting Y/N wasn't exactly superlative, but she knew that he was trying.

"I'm a weapon, Buck." She pulled away from him and sat on the end of the bed, wanting to cry and clawing at the sleeves of her suit in an essay to calm herself down. "That's how Tony worded it, anyway. I shouldn't have used them."

Bucky knew that his next question was stupid, that he probably shouldn't have asked it, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he was speaking before properly thinking over the consequences. "How did you get them?" He reached out for her hand and she let him hold it, getting a rush of exhilaration from the affectionate gesture.

Bucky wasn't usually one for showing how he felt, much less for saying it out loud or doing anything to communicate his feelings, and he wasn't quite sure why he had had a sudden change of heart and almost wanted her to know that he liked her, that, really, he would do anything for her. She didn't meet his eye as she began her explanation. "Well, before Tony found me, I worked for Hydra. Actually, less worked for them and more became their personal lab rat. They did a lot of experiments on me, tortured me, really, made me more destructive than any enemy organisation would know how to handle. And then, I escaped. And here I am, talking to you."

She gave him a sad little smile, one that he would swear had broken him. "I'm sorry." It was a lame excuse for comfort, really it was, but he racked his brain once, twice, and couldn't for the life of him find the right words to say.

"Don't be." Y/N shifted in her place, gaze on her hands which were clasped in her lap. It was quiet and Bucky wished that he knew what to say to her, that he could think of something that would make her feel less alone or soothe her in some way. A minute went by, two minutes, three minutes. The silence might've been comfortable between the pair, but it was certainly uncomfortable between Y/N and her own thoughts. "I should go." She said, standing from her place on the bed without looking in Bucky's direction once.

He knew that he had to say something, anything that would make her stay. The thought of her alone in her room was heartbreaking to him. He grabbed her wrist before she could take any more than a few steps towards the door and she looked down at him, lips slightly parted and one eyebrow raised in a silent question. "You're not a weapon. Sure, Stark said that, whatever, the guy's an asshole. But you're not a weapon, Y/N."

She gave a little humourless laugh, blowing a puff of air out of her nose. "The government apparently seem to think so."

Bucky smiled at her and said, "Fuck the government."

"Oh, so you're an anarchist now? Classy." Y/N sat back down and Bucky's heart felt like it was doing summersaults in his chest, all fluttery. She was smiling, he had made her smile, and it was genuine. As far as he was concerned, nothing else really mattered.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually."

Bucky sighed and cocked an eyebrow at her, eliciting a laugh from her lips. "You're really going to make me explain myself, huh?" He joked. "Look, You're not a weapon to me. I think you're a badass, actually." She snorted.

"Bucky, I killed a lot of people."

"So have I." Bucky's tongue darted out to wet his lips as he placed a tender hand on her thigh. "You don't see me as the bad guy. You never have, actually. What I'm trying to say, is that all of us have done bad things. Made mistakes, lost control, that doesn't make us bad people."

"I feel like a bad person." Y/N had her eyes trained on Bucky's face, bottom lip held tightly between her teeth as she tried to avoid letting herself word-vomit about everything that she was feeling at that moment. His hand squeezed her thigh gently, and she let out an embarrassing and involuntary gasp that made her cheeks turn bright red.

"Don't. Y/N, I know it's cheesy as hell, but you did it to save my life, right?" Y/N nodded slowly, "So how does that make you a bad person?"

"You're grasping at strings, here."

“What can I say that'll make you feel better?"

Y/N knew what she wanted to hear, that he liked her as more than a friend, that he wanted to be with her like she wanted to be with him, that her fantasies weren't just fantasies, that he really did love her. But she couldn't say that. God, of course she couldn't say that. So, instead, she simply shrugged.

Bucky knew what he wanted to say to her, that he liked her as more than a friend, wanted her to be with him, of course he loved her. He couldn't drop all of that on her when all she'd given was a shrug, right? Wrong, apparently, because the words spilled from his mouth anyways, like he couldn't control himself.

And really, he couldn't. But he figured that she already knew that.

“I love you." He spluttered, and her eyes widened in shock. "Okay? God, I love you. And what you did today? Made me love you even more. I know you probably don't want to hear this, you don't want me to ruin our friendship, and I get it, I do. But, right now, all I wanna do is protect you, and let you know that you're really not the monster that you think you are."

She stayed silent. What could she say? Her head was swimming with ideas, but none of them really seemed fit. She thought that, if this day ever came, if somehow it came down to confessing her feelings for him, she'd know exactly what to say.

She really couldn't have been more wrong.

So, instead of speaking, she found herself simply staring at Bucky, into his eyes. Had he moved closer? Had she? Either way, their noses were soon bumping together and he was searching her face for any sign of disapproval, one that wasn't there, and so he kissed her.

She felt dizzy, lightheaded, like she couldn't quite figure out where her body ended and Bucky's began, and she didn't think she really wanted to. Lips on lips, his hand on her waist and hers roaming his hair, it felt like heaven.

She was on a high, he was too, and the comedown was breathless and just as euphoric as the real thing. "I love you too." Y/N said.

Bucky couldn't help the plainly stupid, goofy grin that had spread across his face. Did he look like an idiot? Unequivocally. Did he care? Maybe, but that wasn't the point.

"I should get back to my room." Y/N said quietly, a small smile on her lips. "Thanks for...uh, the talk."

Bucky laughed and let her get up, walk to the door and open it while he watched in a daze, and then he stopped her. "Let me walk you."

"I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. But I'm not entirely sure that you should."

Really, she was already his girl. She always had been.

[meetmeatthecoda]

Lately, I've found myself drawn to stories ( and I mean drawn to as in envisioning those stories in my head, thinking them through to the very last detail, not reading, let alone writing them down, because I've long since accepted that they will never turn out quite the same on the paper ) where Red is the one who'd been seriously hurt and, therefore, rendered unconscious for an indefinite amount of time and worried Liz is the one who doesn't leave his side, hoping and praying and pleading that he would wake up. Probably, something that has to do with how unfair it is that we've seen Red keep vigil by hurt!Lizzy's side – playing music for her, holding her hand, reading to her etc. – a number of times and yet, over the course of 8 seasons, never have ever been allowed the pleasure of seeing Liz do the same for him ( not even when he was shot – because she left to retrieve the Fulcrum and couldn't come back until the fight was over – or when he was poisoned – because she'd been waiting to be cleared to see him and he ran away the moment he wasn't actively dying, because that's Red for you all ), even though she loves and cares about him as much as he loves and cares about her.

I mean, just imagine the possibilities!

Liz pacing around the waiting area of Red's mobile hospital while he's in surgery, unable to think about anything else other than how he looked – battered and broken and barely alive – when they've found him and how his head rested in her lap ( she could almost convince herself that he was merely dozing, if he wasn't so deathly pale and still and there wasn't so much blood on his clothes and her clothes and her hands and the backseat of the car ) and his hand was limp in her death grip as they rushed him to his doctors and she whispered words of reassurance and encouragement to him even though she knew he couldn't hear her and how she had to fight the instinct to curl around her lover and snarl at anyone who would come close because she can't let him be hurt further as the medics took him away from her, exchanging observations and orders that didn't sound particularly reassuring. She's also acutely aware of the fact that Red is fighting for his life – there, just a few feet away from her – and, though he's the strongest man she's ever known, he may not win, and so she makes a promise to the empty air in front of her that she will kill him herself if he dares to give up on her and Agnes like that now, when they've just reached the good, right place in their relationship, just confesses their feelings to each other. At some point, Dembe most certainly pulls Liz in for a hug, letting her cry in his shoulder, doing his best to comfort her ( even though there's nothing that can bring her more comfort than Red's hug, when he – alive and whole – wraps his arms protectively around her and holds her close and lets her hide from the whole world in his arms, his chest, his shoulder and neck – wherever she prefers to burrow her face at the time – and the memory itself makes her cry harder, because there's a possibility that he will never hug her like that again ), even though he's just as worried and scared as she is, and Mr Kaplan helps Liz clean up, washing away Red's blood from her hands and producing seemingly out of the thin air fresh clothes for her to change into.

Red, of course, pulls through the surgery, beating all odds, and Liz's heart floods with relief at the good news before sinking when the doctor explains to her and Dembe and Mr Kaplan the extent of Red's injuries and that it's impossible to say when – or even if – he wakes up.

And so the waiting game begins. Liz doesn't leave Red's side, holding his hand, stroking his knuckles with her thumb and never letting go, constantly talking to him and reading to him and even asking Dembe to bring the record player and some records from the Bethesda apartment to play to him, hoping that it would elicit some kind of response from him. Yet, as they days go by, there's not a single, smallest sign that he's aware of anything that's going on around him, that he's still there somewhere and is trying to find his way back to her, to them – he doesn't stir, doesn't so much as flutter his eyelashes, and Liz grows more desperate with each passing day, even though the doctor assures her that Red's slowly but surely improving ( but she can't see it with her own eyes, and if she can't see it, she's less likely to believe it, the more time passes with him just lying there, undisturbed by the loud, chaotic world around him ).

And then there's Agnes... While Liz keeps vigil at Red's bedside, the babysitting duties are split equally between Aram and Samar, Charlene and Cooper, Ressler and Audrey and Dembe and Mr Kaplan. Yet more often than not whoever picks little Agnes up from school and / or her ballet classes brings her over to the safe-house where Liz and Red are. She doesn't seem to be as unnerved by Red's state as her mommy is, climbing on his bed each time she visits ( after giving her mommy the biggest hug, of course ) and leaning in close to him, examining his face thoughtfully before half-asking, half-stating "He's still tired, mommy?". And Liz usually replies with a hoarse "Yes, baby" because she doesn't trust herself not to get choked up if she tries to answer more eloquently. Agnes simply nods then, satisfied with the explanation why he hasn't woken up yet, and settles against Red's side – mindful of his injuries and the spider web of wires and tubes connecting him to all sorts of monitors and machines – and either naps ( especially, on ballet classes days ) or tells her mommy and Red ( she talks to him just like Liz does much too easily – promising him to show him the new moves she's learnt when he wakes up etc. – as if she's already done that before or seen anyone else do that... unbeknownst to Liz, she did both – when Liz herself was in a coma, Agnes both saw Red talk to her mommy and was encouraged by him to talk to her, too, because it may help her mommy sleep easier and maybe she'll get better sooner and finally wake up ) about her day or does her homework or draws ( more often than not, she draws either cards for Red to read when he wakes up or just things she wants him to see ). And when the time comes for her to leave, she always kisses Red on the cheek, wishing him "sweet dreams" and to get better soon, and then gives her mommy, who tries so very hard not to tear up but fails miserably, a hug and a kiss, too, and tells her frequently that she shouldn't cry because Red is just too tired, just like she – Liz – once was, and that he just needs to sleep a bit more.

And when the door behind Agnes closes and Liz is sure her daughter won't see / hear her, she breaks down hard, in big, ugly sobs, because her little girl shouldn't be acting so naturally in this kind of situation and because she wishes so hard that Red just woke up, because she can't do this, any of this, without him.

In the end, once his body has healed itself enough and he regained enough of his strength, Red, of course, does wake up. It's a slow process, and Liz thinks she might either faint or go mad from the overwhelming feelings that are swirling inside of her when Red moves for the first time in what seems to her like forever – squeezing her hand feather-lightly – and when he leans slightly, unconsciously into her touch when she strokes his cheek – out of habit, without even expecting any sort of reaction from him and being pleasantly surprised – and when he opens his eyes for the first time – it's a brief occurrence, with his eyes slipping shut tiredly again after just a few moments, and he's still pretty much out of it, apparently, not even noticing her presence by his side, but for Liz it's a major event – and when he finally, finally looks directly at her – alive and conscious and alert – and calls her "Lizzy". He's still weak and his voice sounds terrible and Liz knows she shouldn't let all of her pent-up feelings – the fear and despair and frustration and love and relief and exhaustion – out on him like that – he's just woken up, after all – but she can't hold back the tears nor the jumbled mess of "thank you"s and "I love you"s and " "I've missed you"s and "I'm so so happy you're back" and "I was so worried" and "Don't ever scare me like that again" that spills from her lips as she leans in to kiss him lightly and give him the gentlest of hugs...

(Since I'm not a ficwriter and, therefore, have no intentions of using this pile of ideas/images/feelings myself, I wouldn't mind at all if you or any other writer drew inspiration from this rambling of mine)

Ahhhhh 😭😭😭 Are you sure you're not a fic writer, anon?? Cause this reads like some quality hurt/comfort to me!! 🥲🥲 Honestly, this is a lovely scenario to imagine & it gives me a slightly bitter sense of satisfaction to think of Liz suffering through just a fraction of the time Red spent by her side while she was in her coma... especially if it's the catalyst for fEeLiNgS to emerge tee hee bc, you're RIGHT, we were woefully deprived of those situations in the show & I'll never not be sad about it tbh. More specifically, things I love the most about this in no particular order: Liz having to "fight the instinct to curl around her lover & snarl" *swoon*, Liz swearing she will kill him herself if he dies LMAO, Dembe hugging her for comfort & Mr. Kaplan helping her get cleaned up 🥺🥺🥺, Liz playing records for Red yasss, AGNES & everyone taking turns babysitting her while she misses her Daddy desperately but deals with the situation with a maturity & grace beyond her years in an effort to help her grieving Mommy through it cool cool mkay mkay, Liz only breaking down once Agnes leaves OWWW, anddddd Liz being a blubbering mess when Red finally wakes up & calls her "Lizzie" & they kiss *whispers* it's fine, i'm fine 🙃 IN CONCLUSION, I love this anon, thank you for sharing this lovely little AU with me!! 🥰 And much, much love to you, of course, my friend!! ❤️

[bangtansfavwriter]

📚🌱book store owner! namjoon🌱📚

- you were still trying to find your way around town as you moved there like 3 weeks ago

-you spent most of your time furnishing your flat and getting groceries as you were snacking all the damn time

-the weather was also kinda bad so you didn't really mind

- on one morning you got up and it was surprisingly sunny outside

-so you thought "why not explore the city a bit?", got ready and went out

-after an hour or so that you've spent in a stationary shop, you noticed a cute book store that was right across the street

- you almost didn't notice there was a shop in there bc of all the plants and flowers hanging down the balcony above the shop

- that's why it felt like a huge discovery to you bc this was probably the cutest book store you'd ever seen, with a very handsome guy sitting at a table in the front of the shop, between some peonies and dahlias that were planted in raised beds

- the guy was fixing something which you recognized as a ukulele when you walked past him and quickly made your way into the book shop, when you heard him grumble and say something like "broke it again..."

-you shook your head when you walked in and forgot about the angry ukulele guy when you got the first look at the superbly organized and clean shop with freaking bonsai trees literally everywhere you'd look

- there were 2 kids at the comic section, some youngsters revising something at one of the tables inside the shop and an old man reading a book next to a tabletop fountain

- as you made your way through the store you noticed something else that made the store even better than you thought, because whoever owned this shop was a salty but funny book nerd

- the book sections were titled in a rather unusual way.. to say the least. one section, for example, was called: "books you probably hate when you start reading but when you get to the end you have an existential crisis because of how good it was"

-you walked to the next section, already curious to see what was next and were surprised to see pretty much the entire bibliography of kafka right there in the "love him or hate him, you ain't him" and chuckled, because you too didn't know anyone with a neutral opinion on Kafka, people either loved him or hated him for his work

-you, however, loved him and apparently so did the person who put this section together

-you full on started laughing when you saw the section "kinda overrated, but suit yourself" and saw "romeo and juliet" displayed at the very front

- "guessing from you laughter, I'd assume you probably agree with me" you heard someone say behind you

- you turned around and zoned out for a sec, as you mustered the gorgeous man in front of you who had the sweetest dimples you'd ever seen

- "you know... I'll get shy if you stare any longer" he said with his deep voice and a slight smirk on his lips

- you snapped back into reality after he said that and quickly tried saving yourself because you already felt your cheeks burning, and you didn't want him to notice that

- "oh sorry, I suppose I was just startled. you're very tall, you know? kinda intimidating with all that... height.."

- he smiled and nodded and you mentally slapped yourself for this statement of yours

- "you're right, by the way, about romeo and juliet. absolutely overrated story about dramatic teens." you said and put the book back "did you come up with these categories?"

- "yeah, maybe it's a tad bit too personalized, but it's my humble opinion about some 'classics' the general public is trying to shove down our throats" he said

- "like 'old man and the sea'" you said and started laughing when he shot you a look of bewilderment

- "don't you dare insult hemingway in this household" he said, but started laughing himself after he said that

- "that was by far one of the most boring books I have ever read in my entire life!!"

"but it depicts the long struggle of the old man who faces his struggles and realizes how they ultimately become his-"

"boooring! and hemingway got a nobel peace prize for literature? for that writing? you should make a new category in your store - 'got prizes but at what cost (hint: my patience)'"

-he broke into laughter and you physically had to refrain yourself from poking his dimples

- your felt your blood rush into your head again when he shot you a beaming smile and said "maybe I should make a new category. 'controversial opinions from a gorgeous stranger' - how does that sound?"

- you quickly changed the subject, because his smooth answer actually made you flustered - something almost no one ever succeeded in

- "are these all your bonsai trees?" you said and walked some steps away from him, secretly hoping he'd follow and continue the conversation you were too shy to make a flirt out of

-"yes, cost me a lot of money and almost a friendship, but these are my babies."

-"this friendship... there was a rather angry looking guy sitting in front of your shop. does it have to do anything with him?" - "did he have a ukulele?" - "...yes." - "yeah that's him. jin hyung is mad at me because he helped me carry that big boy there (- he points at the biggest tree next to the check-out) and I obviously couldn't see what was around me and I accidentally kicked his ukulele. apparently it's broken now, I don't know." - you could somehow understand the flower-boy's anger but the book store guy was cute so: "he shouldn't have left around a damn ukulele then?? i mean?? "

- you giggled as he blurted out "I KNOW, RIGHT?" while wildly gesticulating in excitement about the fact that a stranger agreed with him

- you both went silent after laughing together, the tension didn't go unnoticed by neither of you. you remembered what he said to you earlier and had to suppress your smile. these couple minutes you spent with this stranger made you smile more often than you probably did this month altogether and you were aware of the fact that this is obviously something very special. but you just moved here and had to get adjusted to your new life in this city, would it really be sensible to get a new guy this quick? hell, he probably isn't even single, right? with these looks AND that height plus these dimples that you highkey wanted to kiss?

- he interrupted your train of thought by just clearing his voice, which you were incredibly thankful for, as you got very tongue-tied that moment:

"I should probably get back to work..."

-that was definitely not what you wanted to hear and you clearly couldn't hide your disappointment, bc his eyes widened all of a sudden and he started fidgeting nervously.

- "I should go, too, then..."

-that was not what he wanted to hear either... he sighed deeply and looked around quickly before softly pushing you into an aisle ("yearning 101")

- your breath hitched, his breathing became rapid too, as there were mere millimeters parting your lips from each other.. he gently ran his hands up your arms and you felt goosebumps all over your body. the only time his eyes left yours that moment was when he looked at your lips, that were more than eager to meet his at that moment. just as he was about to lean into you - "KIM NAMJOON! You owe me a new ukulele, you airhead!" was heard across the entire shop, followed by the front door slamming shut

-both of you stared at each other in shock before breaking into loud laughter

- "Oh my god, way to ruin the mood!"

You rubbed your sides that started aching from laughing so much. "You should go after your friend, you know" you said and could tell, by the look on his, that this was certainly not his priority at the moment. He scooted closer to you again. "Tell me your name, gorgeous." - "Y/N..." - He repeated your name with a hushed voice, as if he wanted to keep it a secret from the world. The mere melody of name leaving his lips affected both of you in a way, that you knew you had to explore further. "Say, Y/N... Any chance you might come along again tomorrow?" - "Most definitely" you replied with a smirk on your lips. "Oh, that's a relief. That'll bring me through the day and dealing with hyung. Maybe I'll even build a new section until you come back." You chuckled and looked at him. "Surprise me then, Namjoon~" you teased. "Maybe something like 'books to read all night because you thought of someone cute'?" - "'Books I randomly put together after I saw the cutest smile on earth" may be an option, I don't know" - "Oh, you're getting bold! 'Books I should have sorted instead of blatantly flirting with a customer'. What are you intentions, hmm?" you retorted sarcastically and slowly made your way to the door. You laughed as you saw the slightly offended look on his face. "Books I need to convince a sweetheart that I'm nothing like Joe Golberg!" - "Books how to learn to let people go and then go apologise to people!" (You two were now shouting through the store, the customers were confused but smiled at you two)

"books I will never read today because I'll see you tomorrow!" he yelled last, before you waved at each other with a smile and you left the store.

- Namjoon was growing more and more impatient the next day, as he jumped everytime he heard the door open, but each time it was some customer and not you. He ultimately starting losing hope and felt a little stupid for actually staying up late and creating a whole new section in the shop, hoping to show it to you as soon as possible. The mere thought of seeing you again made his heart race, that's why it was even more disappointing for him when it was almost time for him to close the shop and there was still no trace of you. He heard the door again and sighed very, very deeply, as an old man walked into the store who was one of the few people Namjoon actually despised, because of his overly-specific wishes. And, of course, the fact that he never actually bought a book. As his life energy was once again being sucked out by the most pointless conversation ever, he thought of you again. He wondered if something happened that made you change your mind. Was he too cocky? Did you think of him as some player who just flirted with each customer he found attractive? He sighed again. "Young man, you don't sigh in front of customers! Were you not taught any manners!". Namjoon, with his best customer service smile, tried to convince the man that it was just him, being absent-minded and that he didn't mean to offend him (even though he'd have every right to do so). In-between all the hassle, he didn't even hear that the door opened once again. It wasn't until you called out for him, that he noticed you finally were in the shop, with him. He stared at you with a blank expression on his face when you rushed towards him and immediately apologised for taking so long, which was because of the moving company being earlier than expected. Namjoon just stared at you while you rambled on, as did the old man. You apologised over and over again and then excused yourself when you finally realized that you probably interrupted Namjoon while he was talking to a customer. "Y/N!" he called after you. You turned around and looked at him with a quizzical look. "There's a new section in the back... Maybe you should check it out." You two smiled at each other, neither of you wanting to break your gaze. "Young man... I think I'm gonna take this book here. You can never go wrong with the classics" the old man said and grabbed 'The old man and the sea'. Namjoon did his very best not to laugh in his face, only did he now have a smile on his face that he absolutely could not hide at that moment. Two victories in one day. This day could only get better.

Meanwhile, you went to the very back of the shop, curious about what would expect you in the new section. A book joke again? One of the things you were talking about yesterday? You lost your train of thought when you noticed a section, that you didn't pass by yesterday. "My loneliness is killing me", with books by Dickinson and Poe at the very front, followed by "I must confess, I still believe" with romance novels all across the table, decorated with peonies he was growing in front of the shop. "The new section is in the next aisle, love" you heard Namjoon say behind you. You hesitated a bit, kind of overwhelmed with how fast you could feel everything developing. Yet, everything felt so right. "Go right ahead, I'm right here", he said reassuringly, as if he sensed your hesitation. You nodded and smiled at him. The most beautiful table in the entire shop awaited you in the next aisle. Inbetween beautiful bouquets and absolutely dashing table decorations were Shakespeare's sonnets and other love poems that were among your personal favourites as well. You looked at the section title, written on a card that was put into one bouquet.

"Books that will help me ask you out"

💕

[slversoul]

* mia goth, cis female + she/her  | you know cecilia rutherford, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, three hours? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to summer wine by nancy sinatra and lee hazlewood like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole strap of a silk slip falling down her shoulder, sitting on a sailboat and smoking, soft smile hiding shark teeth thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is june 1, so they’re a gemini, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( cornelia  )

death tw, gaslighting tw, animal death tw, murder tw, attempted murder tw

born at 12:02 am on june 1, three minutes after her twin brother, making her younger — a fact cecil never let her forget.

the twins shared one name. one head. two hands. two feet. one heart. it was impossible to tell them apart as small children, everyone assuming they were identical twins with their matching haircuts and outfits.

their parents had met when their father was shooting a movie in brazil, sweeping their mother off her feet, and bringing her to connecticut where they were married within three months. only four years later she was moving to italy to live with her young lover.

back and forth the twins moved between their father’s home and their mother’s home. the constant shuffling around led them to be homeschooled in their youth. all the better for them. the twins ran through the large houses, barefoot, with laughter filling the corridors behind them.

it wasn’t that their parents didn’t love them, but they had other things to preoccupy their time. cecil and cecilia only had each other.

when they turned 11, they were enrolled in a middle school, settling in with their father full time during the school year. the other kids might not have known them, but they certainly recognized their last name. despite their lack of early socialization, they made friends quickly. calm and easy to converse with, they were respected among their peers.

(attempted murder tw) the first incident happened when they were 12. with their friend over and their father gone, the three of them were swimming in the pool. their friend, wanting to show off, dived into the pool. in the blink of an eye, cecilia watched red bloom from him, seeping slowly into the surrounding pool water. she wanted to run and find the housekeeper, wanted to call 911. do something. do anything. cecil held his hand up, stopping her in his tracks. his eyes were on their friend floating face down in the pool, and her eyes were on him, searching for anything buried in his cold, dark eyes. as the seconds ticked by, he finally lowered his hand, and cecilia ran screaming into the house. the friend lived, but from then on, there seemed to be a separation between the twins and the rest of the world.

they skipped eighth grade, too smart for any of the silly assignments their teachers had for them that year. they played tennis and golf and even learned to sail. all activities they could do together. all activities their parents had wanted them to learn on their own.

(animal death tw) it was their trips to italy that got them interested in architecture and history and classics. places they could explore first hand, reconstructing history with nothing more than their imaginations. one night, they snuck out of their mother’s villa and stole three chickens from a neighboring farm. deep into the woods they went until they came across the smooth stone. it was cecil that butchered them, but this time, cecilia’s eyes were cold as she watched the blood spill down the stone and seep into the forest floor. the gods were appeased cecil had said.

every time a friend encouraged cecilia to step away from cecil, the friendship ended shortly after. he was her older brother. he knew the ways of the world and was helping lead her through it. she went on dates but she never dated, preferring to limit her company. perhaps that’s why everyone clamored to be around her, and even fought for cecil’s attention. they didn’t walk, they floated, in a reality of their own making. a secret universe that no one else got a glimpse of. but their classmates and their teammates and their neighbors needed to know what made them so different from everyone else, blinding them to the coldness the twins wrapped themselves in like a large quilt.

off they went to college, both of them double majoring in classics and history with a minor in latin.

the tipping point came when they were placed in different recitations for some general lecture. they demanded their parents try to convince the dean to place them in the same one, and the parents insisted they tried their hardest, but in reality, they were happy to see the twins apart. it was there that she made friends. friends who didn’t know her brother, and didn’t care to know him. it started with study group without cecil, but it grew bigger and bigger, until slowly, she became cecilia rutherford and not cecil’s sister.

of course, he didn’t take this news well. he was sick every month, needing cecilia to nurse him back to health. or he wanted to do a family dinner the same night she was supposed to go out. she tried reconciling him and her friends, but they never seemed to get along. torn between two worlds, she was tugged back and forth, helpless in the middle.

(murder tw) bunny, siobhan, cecilia, and cecil were at the marina late at night. they were tying the boat up, having spent the whole day in the sun, still tipsy from an afternoon of drinking. a comment about one of their classes, one cecil wasn’t in, struck a nerve, and he launched into a tiraid. a move to grab cecilia, resulted in him being pushed away, slipping and falling over the pier and hitting his head on the boat before he landed in the water with a splash. nobody made a move to call for help. a relief really. he had been but a stone, trying to drag everyone down to whatever sad pit of despair he lived in. it was a secret that they would take to the grave, binding them together.

they stayed close throughout college, drifting away as they graduated. cecilia moved from pursuit to pursuit, treating everything as if it was some kind of game rather than a career. she even tried her hand at writing a novel, growing bored after only ten chapters in. she had more fun laying around on the yacht of whoever she was seeing at the moment.

her brother’s death hardly left a mark on the family. they cried together at the funeral, but they floated apart again, dealing with the grief in their own way. she never talked about it, preferring to block out his memory entirely than deal with the consequences of their actions. this proved impossible when she received a note, slipped under the door of the penthouse she was currently renting out. a note, in her deceased brother’s handwriting. you can’t get away that easily. fear left her cold, and she tracked down her old friends, packing up and moving to irving, north carolina to confront the past.

PERSONALITY

she’s friendly and charming and outgoing. she can talk to everyone and be kind to everyone, but that doesn’t mean she likes everyone. it’s all about appearances. is very good at hiding things and keeping things close to her. she’s still struggling with the loss of her brother because he was her best friend. she’s aware of his flaws, but it’s hard for her to reconcile her fairytale version of him and the truth. cecilia is super smart and pretentious and snobbish, but she’s also a bit of an airhead in that she’s not aware of how the “common person” lives. she’s very out of touch with things because she lives in the bubble of her parents’ money. she’s calm always. it always seems like nothing fazes her, and it’s all a façade. um i think i’ll add more to this later but that is all for now :)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

okay, so as she is new, like literally just moved in hours ago, she’s not really going to have recent connections. but i’m so down for doing past connections :)) maybe a love affair when they were both on vacation somewhere, or someone who she knew in the past who hates how calm she is about everything. also someone who knew her brother and either hated or loved him bt that would be fun angst bc she doesn’t talk about him anymore :) anyway, if you think our muses could have met in the past, just let me know and we can brainstorm connections :D

[notapaladin]

it’s love and it’s decisive pain

I wanted to write a) pining, b) acatl having a fun night with his family and c) acatl making the full and conscious choice that Yes This Is A Relationship He Wants with teomitl. (yes, also I wanted to use “sunlight” by hozier as a fic title bc it is the MOST teocatl song) 5k words later, this fell out.

Can also be read on AO3!

-

Family game night had been Mihmatini’s idea.

Or...well, originally, in much better times, it had been Neutemoc’s idea, but the reinstitution of the event had been all Mihmatini’s. “It’s been nearly three years,” she’d said. “Shouldn’t we try to get together as a family again?”

And Neutemoc had agreed.

Acatl was officially invited on a night when, for once, he had something resembling free time. He’d combed his hair and set out earlier than necessary, hoping to catch Teomitl and Mihmatini on their way. Acatl had thought he should probably warn the man—they could be both boisterous and vicious when all of them played patolli together, and he was sure Teomitl was accustomed to a good deal less graphic language and a great many more serious threats over the game board—but when he actually met him alone on the street near Neutemoc’s house, he found he had bigger problems.

Teomitl had dressed up. This is fine, Acatl told his heart sternly. You are not to escape my ribcage because Teomitl is a handsome young man. It had never worked. It certainly wasn’t working now. They were on a dark, quiet street where the neighbors kept themselves to themselves, and Acatl couldn’t stop staring at his brother-in-law.

There was gold at his wrists and on his fingers—he’d kept himself to a bracelet on each wrist and a minimum of rings, but they still gleamed in the sunlight. His cloak was the red afforded to him as the Master of the House of Darts, but the design had been woven in smaller seashells and arrow symbols instead of the huge ones that proclaimed his station to every passerby. He wore earflares Acatl hadn’t seen on him before, too, and from the way the light shimmered on them he was sure there was magical protection involved.

His sister was nowhere in sight. Before the silence could get too awkward—he was aware he’d been staring, aware he couldn’t stop himself—he asked, “Where’s Mihmatini?” Please be nearby. Surely I’d embarrass myself less with an audience. Unlikelier things had happened.

Teomitl glanced down the street, which didn’t help because even the curve of his neck was a distraction. “She ran on ahead; she said she had to help set up.” Judging by the expression on his face, this was a matter of some mild trepidation.

He couldn’t blame him. “Did she tell you what to expect?”

“...The phrase ‘pack of screaming howler monkeys’ was used.”

He winced, but he couldn’t honestly say it was incorrect. “...Rude, but essentially accurate. At least you’ll only have to deal with three of us; it is much more...vibrant when the rest of the family gathers.” There were four sisters between himself and Mihmatini, and though he rarely spent any time with them—they were all married with their own families and very little time for the older brother who’d so disappointed their parents by joining the priesthood—when they were all together they tended to feed off each other’s shared enthusiasm for patolli, and the end result usually included someone laughing until they cried.

Teomitl actually smiled a little at that. “Which is why I’m wearing things I don’t mind losing.”

His gaze fell to all that finery again. Teomitl’s lip plug was gold as well, a rounded disc with an eagle’s head carved on it. He tried not to focus on the shape of his mouth above it. “We...we play for tokens,” he began. “So you don’t have to worry.” It didn’t stop the sudden mental image of Teomitl throwing his gold and jewels atop his shed cloak, skin gleaming in torchlight. No. Enough of that. He swallowed. “Are those earflares new?”

Oh, no. Teomitl was still smiling, and now the curve of his lips was teasing. “Mm-hmm. Do you like them?”

And he drew closer and tilted his head, the better to show them off. They were also decorated with eagles, but with the whole body of the bird picked out in turquoise chips. Acatl exhaled at the sight. He’d been right about the magic; if he let his eyes drift out of focus, he could just about see the shape of Huitzilopochtli’s flames shimmering over the gold. The earflares’ rims were quite thick, the better to fit even more glyphs on them.

I want to see what they say, came his first conscious thought. He was far too aware of how close they were—too close—but he couldn’t make himself step back. Couldn’t make himself do anything, in fact, except reach up and slowly trace the rims with his thumb, turning them up for a better view. They’d been skillfully done, and he had to lean in close enough that a stray strand of Teomitl’s hair tickled his face. Whatever Teomitl used to keep it clean made him want to nuzzle it.

“Oh,” he breathed, “the carvings are…”

“Protective charms.” There was a faint tremor in Teomitl’s voice, which he might never have picked up normally—but their heads were nearly touching, and the only sounds on the street were their own. Everything was heightened, right down to the feeling of the warm metal against his skin.

It was dark where they stood, the walls of nearby buildings casting them both in shadow. He leaned in, heard Teomitl’s breath hitch, and stopped. We should go. My family is waiting. That would be the good decision, the logical decision.

Instead, his thumb slipped from its slow circling of Teomitl’s earrings to caress his earlobe instead, and it was his turn to feel his own breath catch in his throat. Soft—the skin was astonishingly soft here, marred only by the thin scab of that morning’s bloodletting. It was healing well, but when he drew his thumb over it Teomitl gasped. It didn’t sound pained.

His gaze dropped to his face anyway. Teomitl was staring at him wide-eyed, breathless, and gods, but he wanted to see that face again. So he repeated the motion, a little harder this time, and saw the man draw in a long, deep breath. Oh, you’re sensitive. The knowledge intoxicated him further. He curled his fingers, tracing the shell of Teomitl’s ear as lightly as he dared, and heard Teomitl make a soft noise. A wanting noise.

He could barely think past the pounding of his own blood in his veins. All considerations—they were on a public street, his family was waiting, this was his brother-in-law, the man who he’d told people was like a son to him—felt as far away and inconsequential as the rustling of ants through grass. His fingers trailed achingly slowly down the side of Teomitl’s neck, following the line of his jugular and feeling his pulse thump steadily against his fingertips. His thumb came to rest on the other side, such that he held Teomitl’s throat in the loosest of loose grips.

“Mmhm…” The sound that escaped Teomitl’s lips was barely even audible. He wasn’t pulling away. In fact, he was leaning into it, and Acatl felt himself caught as surely as a jaguar would take a deer.

He felt frozen. If he leaned in, spoke, lifted his other hand, the spell between them would be broken and whatever they were doing would end. Whatever they were—he didn’t think about that. He didn’t think about anything except the soft skin under his fingers, how they were so close that he could feel the warmth rolling off him, how much he wanted to be closer still.

He wasn’t looking at the earflares anymore. He didn’t even remember what they looked like. Teomitl’s eyes were dark and hazy, his lips slightly parted, and all he could think was Yes. Yes, please.

He wanted to taste those lips. It would be easy. It would be so easy.

A pink tongue darted out, and he made a noise of his own. “Gnh.”

“...Acatl.” His name on Teomitl’s tongue, said like that, sent a shiver through him. “...I…”

Approaching footsteps broke through the haze. Someone was coming.

Acatl jerked backwards, heart hammering so frantically in his chest that he wondered for a moment if he might faint. He felt the loss of Teomitl’s skin under his hand as keenly as he might feel the loss of the hand in question, but there was no time for that now. Nothing happened. Nothing happened. It’s fine, we’re fine, nothing happened. He closed his eyes; it was easier to regain his equilibrium if he couldn’t see whatever look of dismayed horror was surely on Teomitl’s face right now.

And of course it was Mihmatini doubling back to pick them up. Of course. Because his life was already going so well. Worse, she sounded so cheerful there was absolutely no way she even suspected what he’d been about to do. (With her husband. That fact bore repeating.) “There you are, Acatl! Come on, the first course will get cold.”

He made himself smile at her. “We’re coming.”

It was a short walk to Neutemoc’s house. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Teomitl until they arrived. No—it was more accurate to say that he didn’t look at him. Looking at him would have been easy; the man drew his eye like a single shaft of sunlight piercing the darkness, all easy, radiant warmth, and if he let himself he could stare for hours. So he very deliberately did not. He couldn’t help being attracted to him, but he could damn well help how he reacted to it.

Aside from that shameful display. He huffed out a breath as he walked, keeping his eyes on the canal flowing beside the street. He’d made his decision long ago, when he’d first realized that familial was absolutely not an appropriate way to describe his feelings towards Teomitl—the man had his own life, and Acatl had his, and he wouldn’t ruin either of them by forcing an unwanted connection. There were simply too many ways it could go wrong, too many reasons why it was a terrible idea. The risks far outweighed any brief benefits.

And then the lights of Neutemoc’s house spilled out into the street, and he had no more time for self-recrimination. Family dinner and game night had begun.

Dinner was, of course, delicious. A trifle awkward at first—it always was, because he could never really be sure of Neutemoc’s welcome truly extending to him as well—but then his brother clapped him on the shoulder and bade them all sit, and the awkwardness passed in time for him to enjoy the food. While Neutemoc still hadn’t remarried, his kitchen slaves were more than capable of putting out an excellent spread of fish, frogs, tamales, peppers, and all the tasty things that made life worth living.

It was not a silent affair; while he’d never been one for much conversation over a meal (he only had one mouth and he was busy putting food in it, thank you) his family had no such concerns. Particularly not the children; Necalli and Mazatl attached themselves to either side of Teomitl as soon as he sat down, ready to bombard him with questions. It was a wonder he even had time to eat, but eat he did—in between happily telling Necalli the less gory details of his last campaign and assuring Mazatl that yes, it was true that his sisters had different sets of jewelry for every day of the week, but she didn’t want to grow up to be like them because they were all very, very mean.

Acatl looked up from his plate at that to meet Mihmatini’s eyes, and they shuddered in unison. Chalchiuhnenetl.

It wasn’t a cloud that lingered for long; Neutemoc asked how things were going at their respective temples, and so of course they had to answer. There wasn’t much to tell; things had been blissfully boring lately, and Acatl would have been more than pleased by that if it hadn’t also left him with far too much free time to think. He’d not wanted to spend much time in his own head since…

His gaze drifted to where Teomitl sat. Well. Since I realized that.

He was suddenly very, very glad that Teomitl sat on the other side of the table between two small children. The man was chuckling fondly at whatever Necalli had just said, and the sight was so endearing it made his heart clench painfully in his chest. Damn you, he thought bitterly, unsure whether he meant the organ in his chest or the man that had caused it to beat so hard. I did not ask for this.

Then Mihmatini asked him how he’d met her predecessor, and he was sufficiently distracted not to think about Teomitl again until the meal was over and they hit a snag in their preparations for the night’s patolli games. Namely, bundling the children off to sleep.

Necalli went easily enough, but Neutemoc had to pause, sigh, and gesture for his daughter to follow when he realized she’d been left behind. “Off to bed with you, Mazatl.”

“I’m not tired,” she whined, and flopped bonelessly against Teomitl’s side.

Teomitl chuckled, patting her head. “Of course you aren’t. But it’s going to get very loud in here in a bit, and you don’t like loud noises, do you?”

She shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”

“Then go to your room.”

She heaved a sigh that came from the depths of her soul (and had definitely been inherited from her father), but obligingly sat up and let Neutemoc carry her to her mat. When they were gone, Teomitl was still looking after them a little wistfully. Finally, he announced, “She’s adorable. I want a dozen children just like her.”

Mihmatini looked up from her cup of maguey sap. “Find more wives to give them to you, then.”

Acatl had never actually seen someone choke on his own spit before. It was not an attractive look, and he wished heartily that it didn’t make him feel so terribly soft. Finally Teomitl spluttered, “Mihmatini!” and she only fixed him with a long and steady look that was slightly ruined by her repressed smile.

“You forget, I’ve spent a lot of time looking after my nieces and nephews. I think two or three little Mazatls are enough from me.”

Teomitl was blushing as he muttered, “Well. That’s...alright. I guess.”

Acatl had to look away, guilt twisting his stomach into a knot. Right. They are married. They love each other still, no matter how rocky things were for a while there.  They’ll have a home and children together, a life together. When Teomitl is Revered Speaker, he’ll take even more wives and have the dozens of children he wants from them. That’s how it should be. He’d never look twice at another man, even if...even if back there, I thought…

“I found the board and the pieces. Shall we?”

He’d never been so glad to see Neutemoc, and all but shot to his feet. “Yes, of course.”

They had to play patolli in the receiving room; there simply wasn’t enough floor space in the dining room, and the beans had a tendency to bounce under tables or rugs and be lost for weeks. One time one of them had actually sprouted. But this time the board was set up properly, and everyone had their own painted pieces, and the first throws of the beans to begin the game set the starting rounds firmly in Neutemoc’s favor.

Until, that was, Acatl’s luck turned. Neutemoc was getting cocky, always a mistake in games of chance, and so he didn’t notice when one of his pieces was removed from play until he looked down at the board again. Immediately his brother’s head snapped up, fixing him with a savage glare. “You.”

He felt a broad and—alright—mildly evil grin split his face. It had been far, far too long since he’d indulged in the no-holds-barred ruthlessness of games with family he was on good terms with. “Should have paid more attention to all your pieces.”

It was Mihmatini’s turn, but since she wasn’t in position to take their pieces yet Neutemoc snarled, “You’re a bastard.”

He huffed, “Are you insulting our parents?!”

“I’m not so sure you weren’t left on our doorstep!”

“Aunt Miyahuatl attended my birth!”

“Hmph—oh, look.” Neutemoc’s turn had come around again, and he turned a mirror of Acatl’s own grin back at him as the piece he’d just set down was plucked from the board.

Acatl blinked down at it. “How the hell—“

“You were distracted.” Neutemoc’s grin only widened, and he had to fight the desire to pick up the nearest cushion and beat him around the head with it. They’d done that plenty of times as children, but then it hadn’t been cushions. There’d been no chance of affording those.

“What’s it feel like to play?” Teomitl muttered. He’d gotten a few of his own pieces onto the mat earlier, but they hadn’t stayed there for long. While Acatl thought his siblings probably weren’t ganging up against him on purpose, the effect was the same. His luck had not improved at all since then.

Mihmatini nudged him. “Throw the beans again, maybe you’ll find out.”

He threw. He threw again. And then he was back in the game and he was laughing, and Acatl felt his heart skip several beats in a row. Gods, how he shone in the torchlight. How easy it would be to reach out, take his hand, pull him close—

No. He wrenched his gaze and his focus back to the mat. Not here. And besides...besides, I made my choice. I refuse to be selfish in this.

There was patolli to play.

In the end, each of them won a single game. This naturally necessitated a tiebreaker round, which was tense and hard-fought until Mihmatini, looking immensely pleased with herself, swept the board of all her opposition and sat back to gloat until Teomitl, highly disgruntled, threw a cushion at her. While he’d initially been surprised and more than a bit taken aback at how quickly the three of them degenerated into barely-serious insults and threats of murder, by the time the night wound down he was laughing with the rest of them even if he clearly didn’t dare join in. It warmed Acatl’s heart and fully made up for all the tokens he’d given away on his bets each time Teomitl’s face had lit up like that.

Since it was far, far too late for them to make their way home to the Sacred Precinct, Neutemoc insisted on them staying the night. Acatl turned down the offer of a room and bedded down in the courtyard instead; the air was warm, he was warmer, and he wanted the breeze. (Well, he wanted an ice bath. But he would settle for a breeze.)

He sprawled out on his back under one of the trees, staring at the stars through the thin canopy of leaves. Usually, counting them helped him sleep when he really couldn’t; this time, sleep wouldn’t come.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier. Not the flashes of emotion that had struck him during dinner, but what had happened before they arrived. What could have kept on happening, if Mihmatini hadn’t shown up.

I didn’t do anything wrong, Acatl told himself. He hadn’t. Teomitl had new earflares. Acatl had admired the earflares. He hadn’t broken his vows, hadn’t done anything that would cast shame upon Teomitl’s marriage. They’d only touched. That was all.

But the skin under his fingers had been so soft, and Teomitl had been melting into his touch and looking at him like...like…

Like he wanted me to kiss him. The thought felt like lightning striking the core of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut with an involuntary gasp. He’d seen a cunning version of that look before on women who were clearly hoping he’d make a move on them, priest or no; he’d never in his life seen it like that. Flushed and soft and spellbound, as though the only thing Teomitl had been dreaming of was the moment where their mouths would meet.

And he wanted it. Even now, in his brother’s courtyard, with Teomitl and Mihmatini no doubt wrapped in each other’s arms a few rooms away, he wanted it. He rolled over onto his side and dug his nails into his palms, hoping the pain would center him. It didn’t. The thoughts kept on coming, each one like a hammer blow, and all he could do was reel as they hit home.

I desire him.

I love him.

I can’t tell him.

Because that was the cold, hard truth of it all. He loved Teomitl, and letting him know that would destroy too much he held dear. The peace in his life he’d just started to find would vanish. Happy evenings with his family would turn cold and awkward. Mihmatini—gods, his sister would never forgive him. No, having him in his life like this would have to be enough. They’d meet for dinner, they’d be friends, but Teomitl would build his life as Master of the House of Darts—as Revered Speaker—with Mihmatini by his side, and Acatl would go to his mat alone and it would be fine. It had to be fine. Safety. Security. This is the choice I’m making.

Distant voices intruded, and he shuddered all over again as he heard Mihmatini’s wry, teasing comment of, “I love you, but you do snore.”

“I know.” That was Teomitl, sounding terribly fond. “I’ll go sleep in the courtyard with Acatl.”

“Please.” She said something else, then, but it was too soft for Acatl to catch. Whatever it was, it made Teomitl cough, and she giggled sweetly.

He barely dared to breathe. Even facing away from them, he was far too aware of Teomitl’s footsteps; the man was trying to be stealthy, but he’d always been terrible at that. He felt it, too, when those footsteps stopped near him and—quietly—rolled out a mat. Reeds crunched softly as Teomitl sat down—no, laid down, there was the rustle of cloth as his cloak spread out. They were so close that once again Acatl thought he could feel the warmth of his body.

Silence. Soft breathing. Another, extended rustle as Teomitl rolled over.

And then, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear it, “...Tonight was wonderful. I loved it. I love you.”

Adrenaline flooded his veins. He’d never been more awake in his life; it was only sheer force of will that kept his eyes from shooting open. His heart and his breath both caught, and for a long and irrational moment he wasn’t sure either of them was functioning. No—there was his heartbeat roaring back to life, pounding so fast and hard that his throat squeezed with the effort of it. His lungs were next, a hitched pause that felt so much more momentous than it sounded.

I love you.

He’d made his choice, but now he faced a new one. He could keep his eyes shut, force himself to relax, pretend he’d never heard that confession. In the morning, nothing would happen. Their lives would continue on as before. That would be the safe option.

Or he could turn over, look Teomitl in the eyes, and speak to him as one man to another.

Love meant pain. Loving a man like Teomitl...well. It probably meant even more pain. Teomitl wasn’t an easy man to love. He was stubborn, abrasive, proud, and tended not to listen to the people around him when he thought he knew best. But then, wasn’t Acatl the same? Less proud, he thought, but Acamapichtli called me self-righteous and gods, how I wish he’d been entirely wrong. Teomitl didn’t seem to mind, and he couldn’t possibly be unaware of Acatl’s flaws. No, he saw them. And he loved Acatl anyway. He loved him, flaws and all, risks and all. How could Acatl not do the same?

For once in his life—no. Even to think that would imply he saw an end to it, and Acatl would not back down from this. He would do this, and he would keep doing this, because the risks did not outweigh the benefits.

He took a long, slow breath, stretched out his limbs, and turned over to meet Teomitl’s gaze. For a moment Teomitl just looked stunned, but then the horror asserted itself—Acatl could see every shift of his expression as he registered that yes, he’d said that out loud and yes, Acatl had heard it.

Before he could run away, Acatl grabbed his hand hard enough to hurt.

Teomitl’s eyes went wide. “Acatl,” he began, “I…”

“I wanted to kiss you in the street today,” he blurted out, which was absolutely not what he’d planned to say. (Not that he’d had a plan at all, but I love you too seemed like a decent starting point.) “Tonight was—I lost so much on the games because I couldn’t stop staring at you, every time you laughed, you’re like sunlight—“

“Acatl.” Teomitl’s voice held more than a tinge of desperation. “Shut up.”

He shut up.

Teomitl’s gaze bored into his; as he leaned in, they drew so close that he could feel warm breath wafting across his own lips. His voice was low and serious as the grave. “If you keep talking, I am going to kiss you. Right here in the middle of your brother’s courtyard.”

It was dark. They were under a tree. They were perfectly capable of being quiet. He sucked in a hard breath, feeling his heart hammer frantically in his chest, and breathed, “What are you waiting for?”

Teomitl didn’t make him wait any longer. Their mouths finally met, and it was sweet and hot and something Acatl felt in his spine. Perfect, he thought, and then he wasn’t thinking anything, because he had a hand on Teomitl’s bare back and Teomitl had one buried in his hair and it didn’t matter that he’d never kissed anyone before, because Teomitl was more than skilled enough to make up for any deficiencies in his own technique. That pretty golden lip plug didn’t get in the way at all. More. I want more of this.

The position was awkward, both of them lying on their sides, but then he rolled away to free his trapped arm and Teomitl followed and oh, that was much better, with Teomitl half on top of him and the red of his cloak blending into the night. When they pulled away to breathe, he panted, “We should—“ Get inside, he meant to say. Find somewhere secluded. But it was difficult to get any of that out when Teomitl was kissing him midsentence, nipping at his bottom lip and sighing in pleasure when he slid his hands down his back. The skin was deliciously soft here too, and unscarred.

Teomitl’s fingers slid down his side to the curve of his hip, and even if he hadn’t been able to feel the evidence of his arousal he could pick it up just fine from the roughness in his voice. “Gods, I want you so much.”

“Not here,” he gasped. Even the thought sent a cold spike of fear through his chest. No—not entirely fear. Some part of him, even though he knew better, wanted to see how quiet they could really be.

Someone cleared their throat across the courtyard. They both froze.

It was Mihmatini, talking to a slave in a voice that carried. “No, the room’s wonderful. I’m just a bit warm, so I’m going to sleep in the courtyard. But you know I snore, so I can’t blame the men if they want to take my room instead.”

Teomitl slumped, his head tucking into the crook of Acatl’s neck as though it belonged there permanently. “She doesn’t snore,” he whispered.

He felt an absurd urge to laugh. “I know.”

“She talks in her sleep, which is worse.”

“I know.” But she was also heading their way, so he nudged Teomitl off him and rolled over so by the time she got there, it would look like they were simply dozing. I have the best sister in the world.

“I heard that.”

The best sister in the world was currently giving her husband a very unimpressed look. He was pushing himself upright, flushed with embarrassment—but not, Acatl realized, guilt. Nor the shifty eyes of one who was trying to keep a secret. “It is worse. You’ve said so yourself.”

“About you,” she said dryly. “Acatl, if you can put up with that without strangling him, I’d be very appreciative.”

Teomitl huffed, climbing to his feet and gathering his mat. “Lies and slander.”

And then she grinned at him, and winked. He felt his face go hot. It was one thing to know that she knew, and to have it be something they never spoke about. It was entirely different to do such things with her blessing. To kiss Teomitl, to hold him in his arms, and know that he wouldn’t break his sister’s heart in doing so—that he could have Teomitl, and his family, and not have to give up happiness with either.

Teomitl paused a few feet away, turning to look back over his shoulder. It was impossible to miss the hope in his voice. “Coming, Acatl?”

Another decision. Another chance to say no, he wouldn’t do this, there were lines he wouldn’t cross. He’d taken vows, hadn’t he? Vows of chastity, of celibacy. His virginity was something he’d managed to hold onto all his life, and if he and Teomitl had the privacy of a room with walls and a closed entrance-curtain, he’d fling it away in a heartbeat. There’d be no going back from that.

He rose, pulling a hand through his hair, and followed Teomitl inside.

[j-whirl44]

Built on Hope

I wrote! more Rusty Quill Gaming fic! because....yeah

Blame Ben for having Zolf tell the group he cares about Wilde and giving no further explanation!!!

Set post-virus spread, where the two of them just share a drink and talk bc they’re both sad, emotionally charged men!

Enjoy!

read it on AO3: (x)

Wilde sits at the bar at the inn in Japan and just stares at the ale he ordered. It was a bad day. The weather, as poor as it’s ever been, made the scar on his face feel tight. No matter how much he tried to move his face around it didn’t ease the pain. He hates the damn thing, but he uses it as a reminder.

It was his own damn fault after all, he wasn’t careful enough in the beginning. He still thought he was smarter than whatever was happening. To be fair, he also wasn’t aware that the virus can take the shape of people you knew. It happened so fast, there was a moment before he even realized how bad he was bleeding and that he could really only see properly out of one eye. It took a lot of healing and weeks in an unflattering eye patch, but he’s mostly regained his sight.

He’s thought about covering it up with prestidigitation, but there’s no real point, there’s something about it that makes the magic not last as long. The facade wears off in a matter of hours and Wilde can still feel it there so there’s no real point in trying to hide it.

He sighs and takes a small sip. It tastes horrible. He’s let it go warm and flat.

“Rough day hold up in your office there, boss?” a voice says next to him.

He looks at Zolf and gives him as much of a smile as he’s able to and gestures for him to take a seat, “Oh won’t you join me, Mister Smith, I do always enjoy your bright demeanor” Wilde says.

Zolf laughs and takes a seat, he waves down the inn keeper and orders two shots of sake. He passes one to Wilde who raises an eyebrow. Zolf rolls his eyes, “just take it,” he says.

Wilde does, and the two men raise their small glasses to each other, a cheers to the other and quickly down the liquid.

It’s been about three months since things went south. The riots overwhelmed Europe and people started retreating to anywhere they could, but there was a lot of travel halted by the storms of varying degrees. Wilde was already in Japan when it happened, Curie sent word about the severity and what their next moves should be. He ran into Zolf a few days later. He was already tracking down his old group, hearing through various contacts that Japan was the next stop. Wilde filled him in on what’s really happening and the two have been working together ever since.

It wasn’t easy at first, there were growing pains, but in a new world like this you had to adapt fast. Whatever thoughts or opinions the two men had about each other from their previous encounters vanished when their base was ambushed by the infected. It was bad, but Zolf managed to lead most of the people out. It was hard to see him as anyone but a leader after that moment. He’s also the one who found the inn and convinced the owner to help locate them.

Wilde secretly wished he had the confidence Zolf exhumed. He certainly wasn’t the frigid cleric of Poseiden he once knew.

“So really, boss, you okay?” Zolf asks again. Wilde looks at him and gives a half-hearted shrug.

“I’m fine,” he says, he feels his face twitch, “the weather’s bad is all. Makes my little friend here agitated sometimes.”

Zolf grunts in acknowledgement, “Yeah. My legs don’t always want to agree with me some days either. My peg leg wasn’t much better,” he says.

Wilde nods, “Suppose we chose the wrong time for battle scars, then.”

“Didn’t have much choice there did we though,” Zolf says, his voice low and a bit angry. It’s a tone Wilde is used to by now, but it still catches him off guard.

Zolf orders another two shots, this time he doesn’t offer one to Wilde.

“Is something bothering you, Mister Smith,” Wilde says.

“Could you-” Zolf starts, a little too loudly, “Could you maybe just...call me Z-zolf. It’s just. Mister Smith it’s-it’s too formal.”

Wilde is taken aback slightly, but he nods his head, “very well. Zolf.”

Wilde notices now how tense Zolf really is. His shoulders are up so high they practically reach the top of his head. He’s slouched over, practically curling in on himself. Which is hard to do considering their sitting on bar stools.

“Zolf. What’s wrong?” Wilde asks.

“Hey I came over here to see how you were doing. Not the other way around,” Zolf protests.

“Well then might I suggest you uncurl yourself from the ball you made. You look like a clam right now,” Wilde says back.

Zolf eyes widen for a moment before he looks over himself. He visibly relaxes, shakes out the tension in his neck.

He looks pointedly at Wilde, “There. Done. See?”

Wilde chooses not to point out the creases in his forehead that still give him away.

“Very well, apologizes for asking,” Wilde says.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Wilde still sips his now undrinkable ale and tries to avoid Zolf sulking next to him. They’ve come far in the last few months, but maybe not as far as Wilde first thought.

He hears Zolf shift in his seat as he clears his throat, “I’m just...thinking...about, stuff,” he says quietly. Wilde waits for him to continue, “I just...wish they were here with me. I could- we could use them right about now,” he says.

Wilde nods, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Zolf scoffs and gives a bitter laugh. He looks lost in thought. Wilde again gives him silence. He’s not really much for talking nowadays anyway.

“It’s also, my brother’s birthday. Today. Now,” Zolf says. This gets Wilde to turn his full attention to him. He still says nothing though, waiting for Zolf to continue.

He does, “he’s, uh, dead. Been dead awhile. A cave-in in our family’s mines,” Zolf eplains. He doesn’t go into any detail from that, and Wilde won’t push him. He doesn’t want to. He likes to think he’s not that obnoxious journalist anymore. There’s really no reason for him to be anymore.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Zolf,” Wilde says. He puts a hand on the dwarfs shoulder. Zolf doesn’t flinch away, instead he almost leans into it, if only for a moment. Wilde continues, “As for your friends. They did what they could. They knew Rome was a risk, but they took it anyway-”

“I should’ve been with them, Hamid. Sasha they-”

“Became very capable in your absence,” Wilde points out. Zolf sighs.

“Guess they didn’t need me after all,”

Wilde lets out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a choke, “I wouldn’t go that far. They very much still were running around like children lost in a market the last time I saw them,” he says to try and cheer Zolf up.

It does get a small smile from him, but it fades quickly.

Another moment of silence falls between them. The air is tense and sad, but that’s not really any different than most days around here now.

Wilde bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks about what to say next, but nothing comes to mind.

He hates this new world. He hates that he didn’t do enough to stop it from happening, but that’s in the past now. All Wilde can do is hope he doesn't screw up as much trying to fix it.

Zolf gives Wilde a look as if to show he’s probably thinking the same thing. He sighs, “Look, Wilde. I’m not particularly good about opening up about things,” he starts, “but now, with the world the way it is. We can’t-do this. We can’t sit around feeling sorry for ourselves. We got to-” he pauses and laughs at himself, “We got to have hope. Have something. I-I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out what to believe in. After my brother died,” another pause, “I don’t-I don’t know. I was just drifting along doing what I thought was right. It still hurt people  cared about so, well you know the rest. Anyways, doesn’t matter, I found hope. Or something like it. I don’t need a god to believe in or someone to show me the way. I just...hope. And that’s all we can do now. Hope that together we can find a way to fix this. All of us,” he finishes.

Wilde sits there stunned. He didn’t expect that to pour out of the man sitting beside him. He again just didn’t know what to say. For the first time since this whole thing started, Wilde could feel it. That something. That hope. Maybe all wasn’t lost after all.

Wilde laughs suddenly, which startles Zolf, “What’s so funny?” he asks.

Wilde waves a hand at him, “It’s nothing. I just see why you’ve always seemed to be the leader wherever you go,” he says.

Zolf rolls his eyes again and orders again two more shots. They each take one.

Wordlessly, the two make a toast to hope.

[livralph]

19 from this list— “You won’t scare me away.”

A/n: this may have become much longer than intended bc I forgot to post it.

Luna had never thought settling down was for her. Moving around had been her thing. Travelling thousands of miles and never staying anywhere more than a week just so she could continue to explore the world. That had been when she was younger, when staying on the move made her feel free, like nothing bound her to the world other than the creatures she was so fond of. As she became older— after the war— it felt different. The moving from place to place so often made her feel like she was running away from something. Perhaps herself, perhaps her past, perhaps everything and nothing. Whatever it was, it made her more determined to keep going. The longer she stayed at home with a friend or her dad the more anxious she became.

A minute too long in one place and she’d feel her blood run cold. A pit in her stomach would open up and she was out of the door at an obscene time with nothing more than a note left behind saying goodbye to whoever had hosted her for her return. Her bags were packed with a wave of her wand and she would cast a second spell to shrink her luggage to the size of a purse. Then into her pocket it went as she ran from the door, locking it with a flick of her wand. And into the night she went.

Harry worried. Scared for what she was doing or what would happen if she continued to disappear for weeks, even months, at a time. No one could contact her despite their efforts, and after Luna shouting at Draco for asking her to stay longer no one did. Well, to say no one asked would be a lie. There was one person who always would and never failed to have Luna stay grounded a moment longer. No one understood how Ginny did it, but no one ever asked.

Luna stayed with Ginny more than anyone else she stayed close to. At least every three months Ginny would wake to a gentle knock at her door and know who it was before she’d even left her bed. The rest were lucky if it was once a year. Every time this would happen both of them would lose their breath a little. They both knew why.

~~~

“Ginny, no ones seen her in four months.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“For Merlin’s sake—“

“Harry.” Draco said softly from where he sat beside him. Harry looked at him desperately, wishing his husband would side with him for once even if he knew that in this argument he never would.

“It’s been longer than usual, but she’s okay. I know she is.”

“How can you just know, these things, Ginny?”

“Because I—“ Ginny didn’t say what she’d been going to. She’d never say it to anyone but the person who needed to hear it. “Look. I know her better than you. Hell, I know her better than anyone. If there was reason to be scared, trust me, I’d be terrified right now. She’ll be here soon. Whether it’s in a week, a day, a month, who cares? She’ll be okay. She always is.”

Harry sighed, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes under his glasses while Draco scanned Ginny’s face carefully. He knew what she’d been about to say from the amount of times he’d almost slipped up when he and Harry were yet to say the words, but if Ginny wanted to keep that to herself that was her call. “I’m sorry.” Harry muttered. “I just worry. Can’t help it.”

“Hero complex.” A gentle smirk climbed Draco’s face as he elbowed Harry gently in the ribs then leant over to kiss Harry’s cheek. “It sweet.” He said against Harry’s skin before moving away. To look over at Ginny, stood leaning against a the counter looking at them sadly. In apology the blonde offered a half smile. Ginny may have not been at the point of saying anything, but she was certainly in a place where she knew Draco could read her as easily as a book. “C’mon. Let’s go, Harry. I’m sure Ginny would appreciate us leaving before the sun rises this time.”

Ginny seemed to be thrown back to herself at these words because when Draco said them she stood up properly, stepping away from the kitchen counter and walking to the hallway. “No, no, you can stay. I’ll make the spare bed for you guys so that—“

Draco put his hand on her upper arm gently. “No need. Really. We have somewhere to be in the morning and Merlin knows we can never leave your house on time.” He didn’t say that she might need the spare bed in case Luna arrived but it was obvious to Ginny what he meant when she looked at him. Draco saw something flicker through her expression but it was gone before he could think of what it was.

Harry and Draco left ten minutes later, leaving Ginny alone. Honestly, she was worried about Luna, it just wasn’t something she felt she could say in front of Harry. He may have been panicking but knowing Ginny was would send him overboard. Since they’d left she’d been sat staring at the cupboards above the counter and nursing her almost empty bottle of beer. The guys had brought a six pack, having one each themselves and leaving the rest for her. She was still on her first and likely wouldn’t drink another.

From the hall her clock pinged and Ginny counted each. It was three in the morning. Draco was right, him and Harry probably could have ended up staying until the sun rose again. It was somewhere around four in the morning now, and Ginny could never get to sleep after that. She knew she should sleep, every time she missed out it was hell to catch up but she’d been struggling recently and to fall asleep when she thought Luna would be at her door any second was never easy.

“Go to bed.” She said to herself harshly, downing the last few mouthfuls of her drink in seconds. And she did got to bed, cleaning her teeth and changing out of her robes in favour of a slightly over sized muggle t-shirt she’d bought at a concert last time Luna had been back. After that she climbed into her bed and fell asleep almost immediately after her head hit the pillow

~~~

Ginny groaned, hearing a tapping. Who the fuck was awake so late? She turned over pulling the pillow further over hear head to drown out the sound. Didn’t anyone get that some people were trying to sleep? She stayed in her bed a moment longer before she remembered who would be tapping this late at night, that it was someone knocking on the door more uncertainly than ever but still in the exact same rhythm she always did. It was Luna.

Without even bothering to put at least some leggings on over her underwear so that her legs didn’t freeze from her cold apartment, Ginny was on her feet, running to the front door. She knocked her hip on the sofa back as she passed it but ignored the slight twinge she’d felt. “I’m here.” Ginny said just loud enough to be heard through the door as she began unlocking it.

Then it was open and there was Luna. And oh, Merlin, maybe Ginny had forgotten just how beautiful she was or maybe somehow Luna looked more gorgeous than usual but she’d lost her ability to breathe for around thirty seconds that they both spent looking at each other, relearning the way the world stopped when they were together.

“Hi.” Luna was the first to speak, an awed smile growing on her face as if she’d just seen the best thing in the world. And maybe she had. Ginny didn’t even try to respond, she only threw her arms around Luna and hugged her tightly. Her face was hurried in the crook of Luna’s neck, blonde hair that was longer than the last time they’d met by inches smothering her.

Eventually, they let go of each other knowing that the hallway was both extremely cold and not the most private place for a reunion. “Harry’s been worrying.” Ginny said once she’d closed the door again, looking over to where the other girl was stood, fingers tracing the intricate wooden pattern of her kitchen table.

“He always worries.” She shrugged, looking up at Ginny with twinkling eyes. “You carved this, right?” Ginny nodded, knowing she was talking about the table. “I could tell. You don’t leave a signature, but your method... it’s very you. Beautiful.”

Ginny fought of a blush. She didn’t know quite what Luna meant by that but she didn’t have to. The words sent her spiralling anyway, even when she knew they were a compliment like most of Luna’s other ones. Vague, ambiguous. They could mean any number of things and whatever someone thought she meant it was always something more obscure. For once it seemed pretty black and white. One thing or another.

“I’ve been worrying, Luna.” Ginny pressed, wanting to move her mind on from where it had been.

Luna’s eyes shut for a moment. “I know.” Merlin, how she knew. Ginny would always ask her to stay, one more night at least. Not once had Luna said no because if there was anyone she missed the most when she was away, it was Ginny. When she left she knew Ginny would spend the week after doing practically nothing but eating and sleeping. Draco had told her too many times that it killed her every time she left. “I’ve missed you so much.” Luna smiled at her.

Ginny could do nothing but return it. “Do you want food? Something to drink?”

“Water would be good, thanks.”

Luna watched her walk to the sink and turned to look at the mantelpiece above the large fireplace. There were a few framed photos of her and her family, Harry and Draco, then on the end one of Luna. It was a few years old now, she could tell from the way her hair fell just below her chin. She scrunched her nose slightly; that never had been her favourite hair cut. It looked as though Luna wasn’t aware of the photo being taken, but she knew she was. The day it was taken sat at the forefront of her mind constantly, though it had taken a moment for her to place the picture.

She was wearing these baggy patchwork dungarees and a t-shirt splattered with paint. She still owned the outfit, buried somewhere in her bag. They’d been painting the furniture Ginny had bought for her bedroom. Covering them all in white paint before Luna asked if she could add on some patterns. Patterns became flowers, mostly sunflowers climbing up the headboard of the bed, and daffodils in grass along the bottom of the footboard. The furniture all matched and by the end they were both covered in paint. Some on their noses and clothes and ankles. It was one of Luna’s favourite memories.

Ginny tapped Luna’s shoulder gently to pull her out of the memory. She’d seen the photo Luna was gazing at but also the glassy look in her eyes. They’d both gone over that day a thousand times without discussing it. “Water.” Ginny smiled.

“Thanks.” Luna took the glass. “Had you been asleep long.”

“Barely. About half three I got to sleep. Harry and Draco left at two.”

Luna nodded slowly, biting the inside of her cheek gently.

“If you’d seen their car would you have come in?” Ginny said quietly, hand finding Luna’s free one between them without saying anything about it.

“Good question. Wish I knew the answer. Probably not.”

“You don’t like them asking loads of questions.”

“And you do?” Luna laughed faintly, the ghost of what her laugh used to be, when they were teenagers in school who didn’t realise their young bliss would end the way it did.

“Good point. Draco’s better than Harry. Even if he knows there’s something going on that you aren’t saying, he leaves it be until you’re ready to say it. If you’re ready to say it.” Ginny was thinking of what she’d said earlier, the way he’d looked through her and seen what her words were going to be before she caught herself. Now Luna was looking her over in an equally perceptive way.

She smiled. “Merlin, he’s really got his head screwed on these days. When we were younger he might as well have been walking on the ceiling.” Somehow when Luna threw out things like that Ginny felt better, like they hadn’t changed in the past eleven years since the war had ended. Even if she knew Luna said things like that just so people worried less about her, thought she was just as happy as she had been in school, it made Ginny feel at home.

“I don’t know. It was less like he was walking on the ceiling more walking on every surface and hoping one of them was right.” She mused, pretending just as much as Luna. They both held their serious expressions for a moment before bursting out laughing. The words were barely something Luna would say now, let alone Ginny and somehow that made them grin. “I’ve missed you, Luna.” Ginny said when they were both standing upright again with easy smiles on their faces. The kitchen had been heavy with an abundance of feelings that were nowhere near the elation she usually felt when Luna returned since Harry had arrived but now, finally, she felt happy.

The look on Luna’s face changed, barely noticeable but it was there. “You have no idea.” Was all she replied before moving onto another topic. Where she’d been in the past four months, the crazy animals she’d encountered and drawn in her sketch book. The excitement in her voice as she spoke of the mermaids she’d met in China with beautiful tails made of red scales and fins that were so thin they were translucent but still strong and gorgeous. She said she’d labelled many of the diagrams and managed to expand her dialect by communicating with a colony in another country.

At five in the morning, the sun was up, and they were sat at the kitchen table. Words had recently stopped flowing but the silence was comfortable. They were sat beside each other, Luna’s left hand and Ginny’s right resting on the table interlocked. Luna’s thumb was gently smoothing over the back of Ginny’s hand. The touch was the only thing keeping her awake. Eventually, they stood up, walking slowly to Ginny’s room, hands swinging between them easily.

Luna pulled her trunk from her pocket and waved her wand, reversing the charm that held it so small. She moved it to a corner of the room so it wasn’t in the way and pulled out some pyjamas. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Ginny had already tucked herself under the covers when she spoke and a fond smile took over her face. A few minutes later she returned to the room wearing a pyjamas Ginny had given her a few years ago, and sat on the side of the bed, taking out her earrings before lying down beneath the duvet.

The slow steady breathing beside her lead Luna to believe Ginny was already asleep, so she rolled over to face the window. Apparently, she’d been wrong, as a few minutes later Ginny took a deep breath, holding it for a second. Searching for words. “Last time...” she began, “last time you were here you said there’d be a time you wouldn’t leave.”

Luna bit her lip, she’d thought Ginny was asleep when she’d said that. “I did.” She rolled back over to face Ginny’s back again, only to come face to face with her. That had surprised her as she hadn’t felt the bed shift or heard the sheets move. Ginny said nothing, but through the darkness she could see a question resting in her eyes. “You’re asking if this is it.” It wasn’t a question, maybe Luna had meant it to be one but by the time the words were out she couldn’t tell.

“You hate it when people ask you to stay.” Ginny muttered, hand finding Luna’s under the covers as if hoping it would stop her leaving.

“Not you.” Luna breathed, removing her hand from Ginny’s grip and moving it to rest on her cheek, brushing strands of red hair back.

“Still, I don’t want to scare you away by asking things you can’t answer. There are so many things I need to say, have needed to say for years, luna, but I haven’t. I can’t, because—“

Luna shuffled closer to Ginny on her side and pressed their lips together gently. The reaction she felt was immediate, Ginny melted. The quickened breaths that had been leaving her stopped completely for a second and then the touch was gone. When Luna next spoke, she had rested their foreheads together. “You won’t scare me away.”

They fell asleep like that, the space between them non existent, hands on faces and foreheads touching, the air they breathed mingling together.

[in-tua-deep]

I’m in love with your writing! You certainly know how to make a girl skip her studies in order to read your posts haha. But well, I was thinking of something that would be an interesting au in your writing! What about if good old reggie made vanya train all sorts of martial arts (like in one of your lasts post) since “she didn’t have any special powers” and she was some sort of badass black widow (I might have been inspired by marvel) and maybe even he made her train with her siblings powers??

I definitely think it would be a very different story!! It’s one thing to sneer at someone for being ordinary and excluding them it’s another to do the same thing to someone who can put you on your ass if you cross them tbh

So Reginald decides to suppress Vanya’s powers, okay, but he decides that just because he’s cut her powers off doesn’t mean she has to be useless, so he trains her. He trains them all at hand to hand of course, but Vanya excels. She pushes herself to be the best in a way her other siblings don’t, because they have powers to fall back on and she doesn’t.

So she trains harder than them. Trains longer. Gets better. She doesn’t just practice a move until she gets it and move on, she practices over and over. 

And she’s close with Five, and in order to get good she needs a practice partner, and Five is willing to bend and break the rules for her so - yeah, after hours? In her room? She practices with him. They stand on her threadbare carpet and practice falling as quietly as they can. They do stretches and practice fighting in slow motion, looking at stances in books and trying them out with one another

And in actual training? She destroys the others given the chance. She’s faster than Luther, if he hits her it’s over but she can down him given the chance. As long as she moves in close to Diego where his throwing ability won’t do any good she can get the upper hand - though Diego is a serious study as well in his own blunt way. He’s stronger than he, but she fights smarter than he does. She can beat him if she’s smart about it. 

If Reginald permits Allison to use her rumors, the fights over before it starts. If he forbids it, then Vanya can beat her. Allison is good, as Reginald demands, but Vanya is better and Allison is generally unmotivated. She can beat Klaus with ease, but that’s because Klaus is incapacitated at the best of times. Maybe it would be different if Klaus was sober or if he cared, but he doesn’t. He not a combat kid, anyway, always delegated to be lookout.

I don’t think,, I don’t think Ben was allowed to practice with the other kids bc of the possibility of, you know, an inter-dimensional tentacle monster popping out and ripping Reginald’s other ‘investments’ apart sO I MEAN

But yeah Five and Vanya were pretty evenly matched and she got good at figuring out where he’s be when he jumped. They’re both small, scrappy, not the best strength-wise but quick and smart about how they fight. Perfectly capable of fighting dirty and they’ve studied anatomy on Vanya’s bedroom floor in the middle of the night so they know how to inflict some serious damage when provoked. And they know how to avoid serious damage.

So this is a Vanya included on missions? She’s more useful than Klaus that’s for sure and Five trusts her to have his back at the very least. And because she’s included in missions, she’s included in pretty much everything else as well. She’s included in training, which is where the other kids formed their bonds as well. There’s individual training she’s not a part of, but neither is anyone else involved in each others training anyway

Five vanishes and Vanya trains by herself. She grows up. Ben dies. She leaves. She continues her training, broadens her horizons. She doesn’t go on missions, anymore, but she teaches violin to children and she teaches a night class on women’s self-defense. She finds the women in her city who were always made to feel lesser (just because she was taught to fight, didn’t mean she wasn’t made to feel like the least important for her lack of powers - she always was aware she was the most easily sacrificed pawn on the chessboard of Reginald Hargreeves’s game) and she teaches them to fight back. It gives her purpose.

Maybe this time she keeps in touch with her siblings, but I doubt it. Luther stayed at the house. Diego always had something to prove and he and Vanya never got alone. Klaus vanished into the streets, the only time she could contact him was when he found her. Allison ran away and didn’t look back, as if physical distance could erase her ties to that terrible house. Ben died. Five vanished. They’re on better terms though, and maybe Vanya didn’t write that tell-all book. 

Why would she? She was included. She was put through the same torturous training as they were, held to the same expectations that their father was always moving the finish line for. If she does write the book it’s not about how she was left in the dark, it’s not about how her siblings abandoned or forgot about her, it would be about the one man she’s truly angry at. Her father. She would detail the time he made her and her siblings run until they puked. The sparring matches that were basically a glorified child fight club. The time Luther broke her arm and kept hitting her even though he was crying because Reginald insisted that he finish the match and she couldn’t play violin for weeks. The way Vanya would wake up in the middle of the night because Klaus was having a nightmare again and again and again and the walls were not that thin. 

Growing up in that house was a nightmare, but with more inclusion her siblings wouldn’t have been on the other side, they would have been in the trenches fighting to survive alongside her. They’re on the same team, and she far more forgiving in her view of them when she knows what they went through. When she was there right alongside them sending Ben into a room to kill people because Reginald Hargreeves told them to and they didn’t think they had a choice.

So Vanya walks back into that house when her father dies as an equal. She went on the missions with them. She’s killed men and women because she was told they were the bad guys and her father fashioned her family into human weapons. She’s not a wallflower, she’s the woman who can put Diego out on his ass if he implies she doesn’t belong. The one who isn’t afraid to kidney punch Luther if he tries to put a hand on her. 

And Five shows up in the courtyard, and he speaks of an apocalypse, and this isn’t the Vanya who thinks he’s lost his marbles and this isn’t the Five who tells her he trusts her because she’s ordinary. 

“I thought you were dead.” Vanya tells him.

“It would have been more merciful if I had been.” Five responds simply, because forty years alone in the apocalypse. Forty years as the only person left on the planet, desperately working at going home and knowing if he doesn’t manage it then his siblings all die. They might still die, if he isn’t smart enough. If he isn’t cunning enough.

And that’s the way it works. Vanya still meets Leonard Peabody, but he can’t turn her against her family. There’s a sort of bond formed at the heart of a mission when Diego threw a knife into the guy a second away from bludgeoning Vanya. Or when Vanya dropped down from a vent to slam the guy creeping up on Luther into the ground. Or a dozen other times they saved and were saved by one another. They might not like each other. They might not be close or have a single kind word to say. But they trust one another. 

So when Five comes back hurt and with a paper that says the name Harold Jenkins, Vanya doesn’t deny anything. She looks at the paper with Allison and says “I know who that is. I know him. So let’s take care of this once and for all.”

and they do. They kill Leonard Peabody. Vanya doesn’t go off the rails. She finds out about her powers and she doesn’t care beyond wanting to know how to control them so no accidents happen. She’s already a weapon, Reginald Hargreeves made sure of that. She’s just perhaps a more effective one now. Vanya is a fighter. She teaches self defense classes. She needs to know her body. So that’s what she’s going to work on.

She asks the others for help as much as they can, and they work together to fix up their patchwork little family. Because the threat is over - what now? They have Luther, who has found out his father never cared enough about him to even read the reports he sent back. They have Diego, who just lost the most important person in the world to him. They have Allison, who just wants her daughter back. They have Klaus who was tortured and time traveled and watched the love of his life die in front of him during a war he should have never been a soldier of. They have Five who is too old for his body and too young for his age who has lost the only thing that gave him purpose for the last forty-five years of his life. 

And they have Vanya, who was lied to her entire life and who Reginald Hargreeves was afraid of.

And it’s up to them where they go from there.

[ratsetflummi]

Fanfic idea: literally anything that has Peter dressed to impress and seemingly being all smooth with Juno and Juno feeling severely underdressed and scruffy and sporting five o clock shadow... and then the POV switches and it turns out Nureyev is barely holding on bc Juno actually looks really raggedly handsome according to him and he's 2 seconds away from imploding and the only reason Juno doesn't notice is bc he's just as starstruck by Peter

I can’t believe you made me write two fanfics in three days

Cross posted to AO3, because that’s just what I do

Being a private eye is not as glamorous as people think. Not that there’s a lot of pizzazz associated with it usually. But people tend not to be aware of just how much time you spend in dusty and dirty places, digging through that dirt to find the clues you need to solve a case. 

Luckily Juno’s latest dive into a dumpster had been fruitful. And even more luckily it had been several hours ago, so the smell had mostly worn off, and what was left had gotten covered up with dust and sand and sweat and the client’s perfume that clashed terribly with everything else.

Juno’s coat was still in sore need of a wash. As was the detective.

Another thing people don’t consider is the downtime. 

How the time between cases can drag on for weeks without anything to do.

How sometimes you barely get back to start closing the office when another new face pops in.

It wasn’t a new face, technically.

He’d done a valiant job of changing up his contouring to throw people off at first glance, but it was still undeniably him.

Juno hadn’t seen Nureyev in a while.

There had been the whole ordeal with the mask of course.

A few weeks later Nureyev had been back, with a case Juno couldn’t turn down if he wanted to.

And since then Nureyev had been popping back in every few weeks with information on some new, potentially world ending threat.

Juno had never been able to refuse even once.

They hadn’t kissed again in the time they were working together.

They hadn’t even discussed the first kiss.

Nureyev had never said anything, and Juno was certainly not gonna bring it up. He barely knew what he wanted out of this relationship. Wasn’t sure he wanted anything at all.

They hadn’t talked about it, but Juno had thought about it a lot.

It was always there at the back of his mind, and it usually came to the forefront on the nights when Nureyev was around, right when Juno was trying to fall asleep.

And it especially came to mind right now, with Nureyev casually leaning against Juno’s desk, dressed even more impeccably than usually.

The suit made his chest look broader than usual.

The makeup made him look radiant.

The fit of his black pants made it seem like his legs went on forever.

And the corset made it very hard for Juno to resist running his hands over Nureyev’s waist.

Juno had to step a lot closer to smell the familiar cologne over the smell of his own sweat.

Standing next to Nureyev made Juno all too acutely aware of his own messy hair, the stubble threatening to overtake his face, and every single stain on his coat.

“Another case then? Or are you taking me out to dinner?” He asked, making a show of sweeping his eyes over Nureyev’s clothes.

Nureyev shot him a rueful smile, and Juno was certain that his heart would give out any second now. 

“If only it were so… It is a case. And an urgent one at that. With a time limit.” Nureyev kicked off of the desk and made for the door. “I’ll explain in the car.”

-

It had indeed been urgent, but luckily that meant it was resolved in one evening.

By the end of it Nureyev’s clothes, hair, and makeup were still somehow flawless.

It was unfair, really. That kiss was still on Juno’s mind, and having Nureyev next to him like… well, like this… hot as always and dressed to the nines, Juno was very much tempted to try initiating another one.

But…

Juno was now covered in a fine layer of Martian sand on top of everything else, his hair had become an entire mess, and he couldn’t smell anything other than sweat and dirt.

And while Juno was usually of the mind that cases took precedence and that showers weren’t a priority, he was starting to feel self-conscious from Nureyev’s gaze that he felt on him constantly but never actually saw, with Nureyev politely averting his eyes just in time whenever Juno looked back.

-

Nureyev was aware that he had caught Juno right on the tail end of a three-day case.

He hadn’t given the detective a moment to clean up, and he was paying dearly for it now.

Juno was sporting slightly more than a five o’clock shadow that Nureyev was dying to feel against his skin. His hair was wind-swept, and there were smudges of dirt and blood littered on Juno’s clothes and skin.

Nureyev couldn’t tear his gaze away from him for more than a few moments at a time, and he was sure that the keen eyed detective had picked up on it by now, but he couldn’t stop himself either.

But he found Juno openly looking at one part of him or another as well occasionally, so at least it seemed to be a mutual feeling. 

The problem of looking at Juno too much got resolved when they made it back to the car and Nureyev had to keep his eyes on the road.

But it didn’t make his previous thoughts go away, and it brought another issue or two into the equation.

Juno was riding shotgun, his legs comfortably spread, and every time Nureyev went to change gears, his hand brushed along the detectives thigh, which really should have affected Juno more than Nureyev, but oh well, here they were.

And Juno smelled like sweat and earth, and it made Nureyev all the more aware of Juno’s body in such close proximity.

It took every ounce of willpower in Nureyev not to pull the car over and ravish the detective, tangling his fingers in messy locks, breathing the lady in more deeply, before tasting him again, feeling the stubble scratch against his skin, only on his face at first, but maybe later he’d be amenable to-

Dammit, Nureyev, focus!

-

They’d made it a habit to go back to Juno’s apartment and have a drink after a successful job.

Juno wanted nothing more than to finally take a shower and get into a fresh set of clothes - appreciating Nureyev’s looks in a more proactive manner was a close second - but he couldn’t find it in himself to ask Nureyev to leave.

Juno should have gone to pick up the glasses and a bottle of liquor.

They should have sat down on opposite ends of the sofa, an appropriate distance from each other, and made some easy small talk and lighthearted jokes.

Nureyev should have been on his way soon after.

And that should have been that for the next few weeks.

Juno didn’t go fetch the drinks. Instead he was still busy despairing over Nureyev’s perfect hair and clothes and face, and wondering since when Nureyev thought less of him for the traces his work left on him.

They didn’t sit down and talk. Instead they unconsciously shifted closer, silently taking each other in.

Nureyev didn’t leave. Instead he took the last step into Juno’s personal space, reaching out to tilt Juno’s head up with one hand.

Nureyev hesitated for a moment, searching Juno’s face, which must have screamed a hopeful yes, with only a slight undercurrent of confusion.

He tangled his fingers in Juno’s messy locks, stopping just short of closing the distance, to take a deep breath, before pressing his lips to Juno’s.

Juno had seen it coming a mile away, but he was still taken off guard. And Nureyev used Juno’s surprised gasp as an opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Juno let himself enjoy the kiss and the hand sliding under his coat and along his back for a moment.

But… That…

When Nureyev had been looking at him the entire evening, was that…

By all accounts, it didn’t make sense.

Juno pulled away from the kiss, to voice his confusion.

“Are you sure you want to be kissing me right now? When I’m such a mess?”

“Juno!” The name came out in a disbelieving laugh, the corners of Nureyev’s mouth curled up. Then his expression changed, like he was looking at something precious. His eyes ran over Juno’s face. “Juno…” It came out as a dreamy sigh this time, before Nureyev leaned back in. “You’re perfect like this.”