#go ''OH they WORSHIP coffee... it is more than just a beverage...

[gothhabiba]

"the delicate, exotic art of Moroccan tea-pouring"

"Moroccan tea preparation is a sacred ritual in which each and every step has a meaning"

"the elaborate hospitality ceremony of serving Moroccan tea"

"Moroccan tea, a beverage steeped with culture, a delicacy woven inextricably into the people, the language, and the very landscape"

it's fucking tea

#I don't go to your house in nowheresville Leicester or Wyoming or fucking wherever and upon observing you offer coffee to a friend #go ''OH they WORSHIP coffee... it is more than just a beverage... #every step in the elaborate preparation ritual has a meaning from the drip of the machine which represents tears and rainfall #the wetness of the drink represents the sodden landscape and its darkness represents the black night of the soul #which is symbolically lightened with the milk --an analogue for the delightful creaminess of hope'' #do I?? no I don't!! because it's fucking coffee! you freaks!! lmao #Morocco

[byima]

Six Weeks at the Blofis’s pt 1

We back baby, read here or on AO3

pt 1: the mortifying incident

"Cheers to making it through the week," Percy says, his second glass of minty cocktail raised in the air for a toast.

The waiter passes Annabeth her refill and she clinks her glass to his. "Cheers to that."

Both of them knock back their drinks, and maybe the liquor will wash away the worst of the past week.

Gods. Only seven days into their temporary stay at the Blofis townhouse and they're already supplementing with alcoholic beverages.

They hadn't planned on 'moving in with the parents,' but after wires got crossed with the people moving into their old place, and because of some unforeseen delays in the remodeling of their new place, they found themselves out of a home for six weeks and scrambling for somewhere to stay. That place ended up being the Blofis brownstone for a lot of really logical reasons.

Nonetheless, the week had been a miniseries in frustrations. Both of them now had longer commutes, Percy was working extra hours to offset additional costs of moving and wedding expenses (the wedding for which they still hadn't sent out thank you cards), Annabeth was on a deadline to turn in a final report for a state grant that would impact her compensation at the end of the fiscal year, and for some strange reason, U-hauls and storage units had been scarce throughout Brooklyn. Percy had spent the last 48 hours at the station, they had fought several times, and Annabeth had cried more than she would like to admit.

So on Friday night, they went on a date. Just the two of them. And they were going to relax, and they were going to enjoy themselves.

"I found a new bedmate in your absence." Their drinks are empty, plates cleared, and they've just been going back and forth for about an hour, tucked cozily in a corner booth at their favorite sushi spot. She's pressed to his right side and he's got his arm around her shoulders.

"Mmhmm," his left hand finds her leg through the slit of her long dress. It's a pale blue floral number, with capped sleeves and buttons all the way down the front. "Tell me about him. Should I be jealous?"

"Very." She bites her bottom lip when his warm palm settles on her thigh. Her mouth is painted a rich red color and he wants her lips on him. "She doesn't snore."

"Mhmm." He drags his nose along her hairline. "I knew one day you'd toss me over for a girl."

"She pokes me awake, occasionally. Not nearly as often as you do."

"Fair enough." His long fingers are trailing up her thigh, while his other hand, visible to any onlookers, casually toys with her long, loose curls. "What else do I do that your new bedfellow doesn't?"

She doesn't answer, but her red mouth parts and grey eyes lock with sea green when his seeking hand bypasses dinner appropriate territory.

She crosses her legs, effectively trapping his hand. He buries his smile in her hair.

"Come on," he mumbles into the curly, blonde mass. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Her right hand travels from his knee to his lap, and her parted lips stretched into a smile when he clears his throat.

"This is a losing battle, babe, you know that." She tilts her head until he lifts his face from her fragrant curls and their foreheads touch.

He does know that. But sparring with Annabeth is one of his favorite pastimes. And the alcohol in his system is only egging him on for this particular war, impending defeat notwithstanding.

She caresses with increased boldness and he blows out a breath. "Woah."

"I'm gonna call for the check," she whispers. "Sounds good?"

"Yup."

One handsy subway ride later, and they are back at the brownstone, so wrapped up in each other they barely remember to shut the door.

He starts pulling her up the upstairs to where the bedrooms are, but she stops him at the second step, stumbling under the burden of his heavier mass.  Her handbag drops to the wooden stairs with a thump.

"We can't." She tries to tugs him down to her, frowning slightly. "Estelle is probably in our bed. Definitely actually." She sways on her feet, kept upright by his hand in hers.

"What?" He sounds distracted. He climbs down, lifting their joint hands, and walks around her, half-twirling her into his arms. He's back in her personal space: hands at the dip of her waist, and mouth seeking the erogenous zone below her ear.

"I told you." She tilts her head with a noise of pleasure. "Estelle's been sleeping with me."

He's walking her backwards, aiming for the couch, and they bump into the coffee table on the way.

"You didn't tell me anything…" he murmurs, trailing off, confused. "Wait, Estelle? You replaced me with Estelle?" His breath, bearing a heady odor of alcohol, fans across her face as he stops walking and drags his face from her neck to study her.

"Uh-huh." Annabeth is unbuttoning his white dress shirt with slightly drunken focus. "You look really good in white."

"No. No no no." He catches her wrists in his hands. "She can't keep doing that. Not when I'm here."

"You're gonna have to tell her that, big brother. Because I can't. I'm her best friend." She frees her hands and is working the last few buttons loose. "I want this, Perce. It's been a week…"

She's cut off as Percy sets into motion once again, dragging her into the kitchen. His open button-up fills like a windward sail as his rapid, long-legged strides take them through the entryway.

"But we can't," she bemoans. "There's no place for us…"

"Yes we can." Percy pulls her to the counter and she draws her hands up his neck; he backs her up and seals his mouth over hers. Her hands skate up and down his bare chest, along his sides, down the warm row of contracting abs. His hands rub over her ass, gripping it through the light blue patterned linen.

She brushes him below the belt, and he groans and lifts one hand to angle her head for a greedier, wetter kiss: suckling her lips and tongue and licking into her mouth.

The kiss ends with a damp noise. "This is a bad idea," Annabeth moans against his beard bristled cheek, drawing in labored breaths. Her fingers twist in the hair at his nape. She has widened her stance so he can stand between her legs and push her into the counter, his hips molded to hers. He's dragging his hands along her body, pausing to palm and massage what he can and she pulls his mouth back down to meet hers. A bad idea that feels so good, she thinks, as she pulls his lower lip into her mouth.

"This is a phenomenal idea, I think." Percy breathes this into her mouth before he grips the back of her thighs and hoists her up. He drops her on the counter, finding her leg through the slit once again to hold it to his hip.

"What are you up to Perseus Jackson?" She winds her arms around his neck and wraps her leg around his, anchoring him to her.

"What do you think I'm up to, Annabeth? Don't call me that." His hands have left her legs and have started working the long line of buttons on her dress free.

He looks edible: prickly jaw, rumpled hair, shirt open to display his tan, broad torso. Her personal Adonis. She massages her hands into the soft hair covering his chest. And he's trying to focus on unbuttoning her dress but he gets distracted too easily; pushing up her skirt to reveal more of her toned legs, meeting her mouth for heated kisses, and dragging his teeth against her chest.

It's dark in the kitchen and it feels so private and removed, because it's just them and their warm, heavy breathing and the rocking and gripping and rubbing and a mutual promise that's felt more than spoken and that promise is passed from mouth to mouth, from skin to skin and it iterates 'I won't take my hands off of you as long as you don't take yours off of me.'

Percy finally gets her dress fully unbuttoned. It's fire that follows, and though for a living he puts out flames, he'll stoke this heat until it consumes her. With my body I thee worship, that's another promise, a vow they made not even two months ago, and Percy covers a trembling Annabeth's cries with his mouth and makes good on that promise, putting an end to the week from hell with the tried and true rhythm of their moving bodies. With my body I thee worship; this is reconnection, and Percy holds her head in his hands as they seal this covenant.

They startle when the lights flicker on and off in rapid beats. Annabeth breaks their kiss in confusion.

"You guys are in my kitchen, and you guys are loud."

It's Sally. In the kitchen entryway. She's in a large gray bathrobe and the expression on her face is a little embarrassed, mostly fatigued, and very annoyed.

Annabeth makes a noise as they separate, and then she's flushing beet red and thinking about vomiting from embarrassment as she frantically pulls the halves of her dress together while Percy fumbles to pull his pants up from around his knees.

"Shit. Mom-"

"Oh my gods. Sally-"

In their uncoordinated movements, they accidentally knock over a vase of roses, which had, up until that moment, narrowly missed out on the action.

Sally reaches reflexively, stumbling forward from the entryway, but it's too late. It hits the tile with a way-too-loud crash.

That, of course, draws a worried Paul down the stairs, thump thump thump, and into the kitchen. Paul takes one look at the scene and leaves, mumbling something about a towel.

Sally is whispering furiously, "You better pray Estelle doesn't wake up, because this is a lot to explain." She's moving to the side of the counter opposite them to bend over and retrieve the roses from the wet, glassy mess and place them on the counter.

Percy has got his zip up and is rebuttoning Annabeth's dress, jaw clenched in discomfort, while she refastens her bra. He's disoriented, still a little drunk and trying to shake the feeling. Annabeth can't stop babbling in apology.

"I can't believe- Sally I'm so so sorry, we got carried away, totally carried away. And we had been drinking and- and, everyone was asleep upstairs-"

Percy pleads, "Annabeth," desperate for her to stop talking. They finish her buttons and he steps back to help her slide down from the countertop so she can turn and face Sally.

Light footsteps pat into the kitchen and Percy's still pounding heart drops to his spleen. Oh gods, he can't catch a break.

"Annabeth. You're back," Estelle says in a sweet, sleepy voice. She's awake. And she's shuffling to the counter to give her a hug, but all three of them yell.

"Stop!"

"Wait-"

"Estelle there's glass!"

She startles at their raised voices and steps back. Annabeth feels a fresh burn of tears and, frustrated, she pushes her palm against her forehead. Estelle is tired and confused and wipes wispy black hair out of her face. "Are you gonna come to bed Annabeth?"

Annabeth looks at Sally, who gestures and says, "Go, she needs to go back to sleep. Stelle-belle, Annabeth is gonna go up with you so you can go right back to sleep, alright?"

Estelle nods, and reaches her hand towards her.

Annabeth hurries to her, realizes she's only got one sandal on, scans the floor and locates her wayward shoe, then jams her foot in quickly and takes Estelle's hand, shocked at Sally trusting her young daughter with the woman she found nailing her son on her kitchen counter.

Sally's eyes follow the two of them out of the kitchen and up the stairs before she rounds on Percy, who's been leaning against the sink, buttoning his shirt.

"I don't have anything to say," she starts. Paul is back with a towel and he underhand tosses it to Percy. One awkward "alrighty then" later and he's out of the kitchen as Sally's rant continues. "You two are married at this point and even if you weren't, I wouldn't care." She bends down to pick up the larger chunks of glass. "But to come back here so late? Drunk?"

She tosses the broken glass into the trash can Percy has grabbed and is holding towards her. "And you're loud enough to wake up the entire house? This isn't some frat house, baby. Did you consider Paul, or Estelle?"

Percy drags his hand over his mouth, speechless. His eyes are drawn to the messy smear of red lipstick on his hand. The same red that had been applied oh-so-enticingly to Annabeth's mouth is now a smudge on his palm, and the full mortification of the moment settles on him so sharply he almost feels angry.

"Hey. Mom. I'm sorry. Look, I've got it. I'm sorry." Sally stands slowly and watches Percy impatiently pick up the remaining shards before he drops the towel over the main splash. The towel unnaturally absorbs the wetness, and it takes her tired mind a couple seconds to realize Percy is causing the fabric to draw in droplets that have spread further along the kitchen floor. Sally blinks when Percy snatches it up and drops the sodden thing into the sink.

He doesn't look at her when he grabs the broom from where it's tucked next to the refrigerator and starts sweeping up the remaining evidence of the mishap.

"Well," she begins. Percy still won't look at her.

"Percy." He looks up from what he's doing, detecting a hint of merriment in her voice.

"Mom-"

It's too late. She's laughing, it's a mix of disbelief and exhaustion and vindication, then she's turning away to walk out of the kitchen.

"In the damn kitchen."

Percy fully stops sweeping and looks down at the broom handle in his hands. "Fuck." He says it so matter-of-factly that Sally starts laughing even harder, and his shoulders shake as even he begins to chuckle.

"My girlfriends will be hearing about this."

"Oh please, Mom, don't..." Percy begs, ears going red as he resumes his task.

"Nope, it's my right as mother and witness." She turns at the entryway to face him, brows raised and with a smile that dares him to argue. "And you seem to have this," she gestures to the remaining mess, "handled, so I'm going back to bed."

She's out of the kitchen, waving her hand dismissively.

He still hears her say, "I mean, you know these things, but lord help me, you never want to see them."

---

Percy walks into their temporary bedroom and finds Annabeth, makeup-less and in his t-shirt and a pair of his sweats, laying with a sleeping Estelle, brushing her hair away from her face. She glances at him when he enters, then her eyes are back on the seven year old.

He starts undressing for bed. "You were really serious about her sleeping with you."

Annabeth nods.

He pulls off his briefs and tugs on a pair of pajama bottoms, only grabbing a t-shirt when she gives him a pointed look.

"So how are we ever gonna finish what we started in the kitchen?"

"We aren't." She stares him down as he joins them in bed. "Not in this house."

His eyes widen. "You can't be serious?"

She purses her lips and her eyebrows draw together. She is serious. "Percy. That was mortifying. In a horrible, sobering way."

He gets under the covers. "Yeah. It was. I get that. But in the end Mom was laughing. She's not exactly a nun." He turns on his side. "Otherwise I wouldn't exist."

"It's one thing to be a happy duo of not-nuns. It's another thing to walk into your son and your daughter-in-law having sex on your kitchen counter." Her hand slowly rubs Estelle's back. "I can't even think about sex with you without recalling her expression."

Percy rolls his eyes. He watches her soothe his sleeping sister.

"This is cute," he comments after a moment. She smiles slightly in answer, eyes still on Estelle. "But, I'm not gonna lie, it sort of turns me on in a thinking-about-making-babies-with-you kind of way."

She looks at him with a frown. "You are horrible."

"Remember who had an orgasm back there? Remember who didn't?"

Her face relaxes out of the frown and she's remorseful enough to blush before her attention goes back to Estelle.

"Come on." He reaches over Estelle to briefly shake Annabeth's thigh. "Where's my best friend, my wife, Annabeth Chase? Daring. Demanding. A sexual deviant."

"She had a too-close encounter with your mom, and will not be available for the next five weeks."

He props his head up with his elbow.

"So you're gonna use my sister as a cock block?"

She doesn't reply, but he sees a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

He shakes his head, "You are unbelievable."

He balances over Estelle, kisses her forehead, then leans further to kiss Annabeth's mouth. "But I'm irresistible. So you're not gonna last."

"You're very cocky."

"You love me like that. You fake prude."

#six weeks at the blofis's #mypjofic #percy jackon and the olympians #percabeth #percy and annabeth

[sweet-sammy-kisses]

Thunder and Fire

Written for the @torchwoodfanfests​ bingo challenge prompt: polyamory. Fandoms: Torchwood/MCU Pairings: Jack/Ianto/Thor/Loki, mentions of Natasha/Tosh/Steve Warnings: Mpreg, mpreg!Ianto Word Count: 957 Rating: E Summary:  A typical morning in the house of a Phoenix, two Asgard Gods and an Immortal. You can read it on AO3

The sweet smell of ambrosia filled the air and Jack Harkness let out a groan as it pulled him from his sleep.

His eyes glistened with love as he took in the man sitting beside him, "I love you."

"I know that you are talking to the coffee, not that I can blame you Ianto's coffee is worshiped on all of Asgard." Loki, the trickster reminded Jack as he passed him the cup of coffee.

Jack let out a deep moan as the first touch hit his tongue, "Ianto is the Coffee God." Jack declared.

"Indeed." Loki could only agree, never did he think he would enjoy earth beverage but here he was addicted to Ianto's coffee as much as the next person.

"Speaking of our Coffee God where is Ianto? And Thor for that matter?" Jack wasn't used to waking up without one of his partners in bed with him. Usually, he is greeted by the sight of Thor opening one or both of their partners, making them nice and open for him and Jack to show Ianto and Loki how much they loved them.

He never expected that when the 456 that Asgard would send their Princes to aid them in battling back the scum of the universe, they were an enemy to all life for daring to use children as a way to get high. Jack had carried the guilt of what he had been forced to do all those years ago, this had been his way to make amends.

Meeting Loki and Thor also added something to Jack's relationship with Ianto, while Jack was used to having poly relationships Ianto had become his main partner and to add anyone to their relationship Ianto had to accept them. Despite Jack's lust for Gwen, he knew that she would never be a part of their relationship, Ianto had made it very clear from the start that he was not attracted to her and he would not even think about such a relationship unless Rhys was part of it and Gwen had to realize that she needed to treat them all equal. Jack, knew that kind of relationship would never happen.

They had considered Tosh but as special as she was just wasn't a fit, which ended up being a good thing because when Torchwood later teamed up with the Avengers Tosh ended up winning the heart of not only the deadly Black Widow Natasha but also Steve Rogers himself. Jack was very happy for her.

But it didn't matter the moment they met Thor and Loki something just clicked between the four of them and once the 456 was dealt with Ianto surprised everyone when he asked Thor and Loki to stay a little longer.

They spent one week together consummating their relationship which ended up with Loki and Ianto both pregnant.

A mischievous smirk appeared on Loki's face as he saw the heated look appearing in Jack's eyes as he eyed him hungrily. "As much as I would love nothing more than to have you buried deep within me, it will have to wait. As for where Ianto and Thor are they are preparing for our day out. The one that we promised to take Selene, Lisa, Apollo, and Rose to the zoo today." Loki reminded his lover.

Excitement shone in Jack's eyes, "I forgot all about that! We are going to have so much fun!"

Loki could only shake his head, 'No wonder Thor and Jack get along so well with the children they are children themselves. At least I have Ianto, I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have him. Now I just hope that Thor hasn't tried to seduce Ianto in the kitchen. Oh, course given how my beloved brother hasn't been able to keep his hands off of Ianto lately I very much doubt it.'

Climbing to his feet Loki followed behind Jack to make sure that he chose something suitable to wear and if they had a little fun in the shower? Well, no one could blame him, Jack was a sight to behold when wet.

+******+

Ianto Jones was very thankful that their children were still sound asleep and their friends hadn't arrived yet. The last thing Ianto would want was for any children to walk into this sight.

"Mmm, my phoenix I will never get tired of how you take me with such ease. It is as if you were made just for this." Thor growled in Ianto's ear as he moved in and out, enjoying his time taking Ianto in their kitchen.

Ianto could only moan as Thor's big hand rest possessively on the swell of his belly, where their child was growing. Ianto should have expected this he remembers how insatiable Thor was when Loki was pregnant with their daughter and Jack was as bad as Thor when Ianto was carrying their daughter. A horney and possessive God and immortal was a handful but both at the same time Ianto was surprised that he and Loki hadn't been locked away until their daughters were born.

Now that he was carrying his and Thor's child the Thunder God was unable to keep his hands off Ianto and growled at anyone, not their other partners and the children. Not that Ianto could blame him a child of a god and a phoenix was something that had never been born before and there would be those who would seek their child for their power. Of course, first, they would have to get past two gods, an immortal, a phoenix, the Avengers and Torchwood, which is a death sentence. Their children are safe and will grow up happy calling both Earth and Asgard their home.  

#janto #thorki #torchwood fan fests #jack x ianto x thor x loki #sherri writes #my fics #mpreg

[gredandforge01]

Bucky Barnes: Dating Headcanon

The gentle giant.

Cute hugs.

Him buying you cute little gifts.

Vise Versa.

Him being more than proud of you.

Helping him through his nightmares.

You rarely do, but when you have nightmares he’d comfort you like you do to him.

Giving him nose kisses.

Him blushing.

Being over protective of you.

“Y/n, no” “Y/n, yes”

Steve and the rest of the avengers shipping you both.

Always holding hands.

Him being afraid to hurt you to start with.

Slowly getting more comfortable around you.

Holding both of his hands to show you love all of him.

Taking baths together after missions.

Always having to buy plums at the shops for him.

Steve thinking you as a younger sister to him.

“Swear to God Rogers if he doesn’t come back whole-”

“He isn’t whole y/n, look at his arm.”

Slapping Steve across the back of the head.

Butt taps then running away laughing.

Natasha helping you pick out an old fashioned dress for your guys 1 year anniversary.

Bucky almost tearing up at how beautiful you look.

“You look beautiful, doll.”

The 1 year anniversary being a 40’s theme.

Asking you to marry him by the fountain, on one knee, in his sexy 40’s uniform.

Crying a yes and attacking him in a hug making you both go in the water.

Tickle fights.

Lazy morning kisses.

His morning voice is hot asf.

“Do you know another language, doll?”

“Yes I do actually. English and My Morning Language if I don’t get coffee.”

Him teaching you Russian.

Failing miserably.

Trying to say a word he says but it sounds like a bunch of gibberish.

“Teach me to say fuck so I can scream it at the top of my lungs at my teacher/boss won’t understand or get mad.”

Thinking you're adorable when you sleep.

Sleeping either side, mainly his right so he can feel you more.

Always ending up sleeping on top of him.

Amazing sex tbh.

He’ll either be sweet and gentle, having the “I want to worship your body tonight” look in his eyes.

Or he’ll grab your throat and look into your eyes as he fucks you senselessly, staring into your soul.

Whimpering when he does that because it makes you submit to him.

Marking each other skin.

Metal arm kink is a must.

Trying out different positions.

His being when your riding him and your chests are pressed together.

You can’t decide if its the one where you’re underneath him and he’s on top where you can both feel each other or when your on your stomach and he’s above, kissing down your spine and on the back of your neck.

But loving them all.

HIS THIGHS OF BETRAYAL!

Riding them when you need some friction.

Riding them when he’s half asleep.

Riding them just cuz.

Helping him remember.

Seeing the winter soldier side of him.

As much as he hates it, he hurt you when is was in winter soldier mode, fracturing you ribs.

Him apologising so, so, so, so, so many times.

You reassuring him its fine and hugging.

Him teaching you about the 40’s.

Seeming your great grandfather was in the war, Bucky and him got along real well.

“When I was your age…”

“Bucky I swear to God, you sound like my grandmother.”

Neck kisses.

Forehead kisses.

Hand kisses.

Playing with his hair as you both lay down on the couch.

Him really good at braiding your hair.

Man buns 

Matching hairstyles

Washing each others hair.

Doing a play/ short movie for an acting school and having to do the world war 2.

Amazingly, you end up being a character whose role is apart of the ‘107th’.

“I look ridiculous in this!”

“Its not that bad, doll.”

“It has like 15 layers!”

“You still look gorgeous baby.”

Stuffing up so many times with your lines before hand.

Having to do an overnight experience for the play.

Bucky joining you.

“I need the toilet.”

Him leading you to the toilet outside…

“Oh hell, I ain’t getting in that… I’ll wait.”

Lazy days.

“Babe, fruitcake is for old people.”

Painting together.

Cooking together.

When he’s half asleep, you snuggle under his arm and press your foreheads together.

He says some really weird stuff in his dream.

“But my elephant wants the donut with red, white and blue sprinkles Tony!”

Thinking he’s adorable.

Playing pranks on him.

Teaming up with Steve to pull pranks on him.

OMG STICKING MAGNETS TO HIS ARM!!

Especially the unicorn ones with ice cream.

Him humming songs from the 40’s.

Him teaching you to dance.

You standing on his foot a few times.

See who can eat a block of chocolate the fastest.

See who throws up first after eating the block of chocolate.

You just reach his shoulders.

Calling him soldier, Sargent, sarge, handsome, James, Barnes, Bucky, Fucky Buck, Lucky Bucky, Sucky Bucky, Ducky Bucky… basically anything that rhymes with Bucky…

Him calling you doll like ALLL the time. Angel, sweetie, sweetheart, darling, sexy, mine, my little soldier, and baby doll when he’s horny… #sorrynotsorry.

Facetiming when he’s on missions.

Him leaving a little “surprise” (I mean a vibrator) in your bedside table so when your facetiming you both can have some release.

Using that vibrator when he comes back from missions so he shows his arm is a better vibrator.

Yes… his arm has a vibrator mode.

You don’t even ask about how it came to be.

Living in a little apartment together in the city on one of the top floors, where the city lights shine into the huge floor to ceiling window.

After his nightmares and he doesn’t want to wake you, he would sit there on the sofa and just watch the lights.

Overlooking the city at night when you both can’t sleep while having a hot beverage.

When your sick he likes to wrap you up in blankets on the couch and give you some chicken soup his mother always used to make for him when he was sick.

Taking care of you even if your not sick.

Helping you shower or bath when your sick.

Being a complete gentlemen when your sick.

Him saying that his mother would absolutely adore you.

Him pulling out a seat for you.

Opening the car door for you.

Letting you go into the door before he does.

“Girls before boys.” He’d cheekily grin.

“Elders before beauties…” You’d snort back.

He’s face is so shocked and “upset”.

Then he’d pick you up and playfully fight you.

“ I’m in a dress Barnes.”

“Well, I’m the only one here with you.”

“Exactly! I don’t think I could go another round after what happened yesterday.”

‘Unconditionally’ by Katy Perry playing at your wedding as you two dance slowly.

Basically loving each other unconditionally.

'I’m with you till the end of the line’ is your vows…

Steve crying at your wedding.

You crying at your wedding.

Bucky crying even at your wedding.

Always and forever…

#bucky x y/n #steve x bucky #bucky angst #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #dating bucky barnes would include #headcanon #dating headcanon #steve x reader #stevebucky #steve rogers #winter soldier #winter solider fanfiction #winter solider x reader #winter solider drabble #winter soldier smut #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu smut #steve x tony #tony stark

[artificialqueens]

&New (Sashea) - Chae

summary: shea is a famous model, sasha is a famous designer. they *attempt* to have a nice, low-key, friendly date. a paparazzi has other plans.

a/n: i just posted this finished product to ao3 and thought why not bless the tl (wait is this even considered a tl.. well anyways) with some Sashea aka my favorite ship ever– whilst also proving i am not dead! also the lil marked line is where the smut starts i really said “cute… but also porn”

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24913066?show_comments=true&view_full_work=true#main

“What are you thinking about?” 

“Hm?” Sasha looked at Shea from behind her coffee mug, taking a sip of the scalding beverage and carefully wiping around her red lipstick. “Nothing, really.”

“You sure?” Shea raised an eyebrow. If Shea knew one thing, if there was one motto she lived by, it would be that ‘Sasha is always over-analyzing something.’ Today, it could be her coffee at best, or her entire relationship with Shea at worst. 

“I swear!” Sasha laughed, her eyes crinkling up in that adorable way they did, her mouth turning into a little scarlet-colored heart. If Shea knew two things, if there was a second motto she lived by, it would be that she could watch and listen to Sasha laugh forever and ever. 

“What are you thinking about, Miss Coulee?”

“You,” the model answered honestly. There probably wasn’t a day Shea didn’t think about Sasha. No, fuck a day, a minute. They were ‘friends,’ sure, but both of them knew it was much more than friendship.

Unfortunately, the entire general public suspected the same thing.

Yes, Sasha was famous, but Shea was mainstream. Everyone knew about her, the newest model-Instagram-star-actress-songstress-activist-pole-dancing diva on the scene. And everyone caught on when Shea and the popular designer she’d walked for during fashion week were spotted in public together on numerous occasions. Straight social media played it off as business-partners and friends, but any fan with a brain—especially Shea’s young, very queer fanbase— would spot the gay energy from miles away. 

And just like Shea’s sexuality, their relationship was undefined.

“Me?” The coy question was followed by the clack of Sasha’s teeth against the silver fork that held a pastry, which she placed delicately in her mouth. 

“I said that,” Shea affirmed, her expression reading serious, yet her eyes gazing at the blonde with adoration. 

“Why are you thinking about me?”

Shea scoffed. “Why am I not thinking about you?”

“You are a busy woman.”

“Not busy enough for you to leave my head.”

Sasha’s pale cheeks reddened. It was common for them to flirt, she should have been used to it. But every time Shea said something nice to her, she couldn’t help herself. God herself could have been complimenting Sasha and it wouldn’t compare to what Shea Coulee had to say. That was to say God wasn’t Shea Coulee. 

Shea loved it when Sasha stared at her. When her piercing blue eyes bore into her soul like she was solving an unsolvable equation. It was funny how the petite woman considered Shea a goddess (she knew she did), when the only thing Shea wanted to worship was Sasha. Everything about her: her kind smile, her perfectly and uniquely beautiful face, her analytical shenanigans, her voice that sounded like how honey felt sliding down your throat. Almost a year of friendship, and every moment with her felt brand new.

All of a sudden, Sasha’s eyes snapped to somewhere behind Shea’s head, and her face fell. Shea had a feeling she knew what she was looking at, turning around to see a familiar camera nearing the coffee shop. Her heart dropped to her stomach, not wanting this paparazzi bitch to ruin the amazing day she’d planned for the two of them. 

“Let’s go,” Sasha said hushedly, picking up her bag and completely ignoring her unfinished food and coffee mug.

Shea nodded, doing the same, a plastic cup filled with her frappuccino in one hand and Sasha’s own hand in the other. They’d held hands a few times, sure, but nothing beat the rush of interlacing her fingers with the shorter woman’s. She hadn’t really held her before, hadn’t cuddled or snuggled her often, but when she had Sasha’s dainty hand in hers it almost made up for every time she wanted to hug the breath out of her. 

They raced down the street laughing, the entire situation almost comical. They looked like two crazy women, walking so fast it might have been classified as a jog and cackling like schoolgirls. But it felt right. As cheesy as that might sound, there wasn’t a better word for it. Familiar. Comfortable. Right. 

Again, that was implying that everything didn’t feel right when Shea was with Sasha.

Shea led the other girl a few streets down, ducking behind a mahogany door and checking if the coast was clear. The pair found themselves in a small thrift shop—well, small was an understatement. It was a pretty big thrift shop. But it was quaint, and very artsy, very post-vintage. Very Sasha.

The designer, wearing her sunglasses to hopefully conceal her identity (some face mask, especially next to Shea, who forgot hers at home), looked at the shop in awe.

“Shea… where—”

“The internet,” the taller woman replied smugly.

“You went out of your way to find this for me?”

“It’s the least I can do,” she chuckled. “I wanted today to be fun for us.”

Sasha smirked. “With the camera creep on our tails?”

“More fun for us. Keeping you on your toes.”

The blonde laughed, a soft and knowing giggle. She perused the racks of clothing, feeling the fabric of every sleeve, every pant leg, tracing her fingers along the leather of heeled boots. Shea anticipated the well-dressed woman to pick up a garment multiple times, but she never did, not even the ones she thought were cute. Which left them for Shea, of course, but it also left her wondering what kept her from purchasing them. The designer was known to purchase both expensive and average priced clothes, Sasha caring more about the fit, the cut, the style more than who made it. But she was being extra picky today.

“Something on your mind?” Shea asked.

“No. Just… none of these are speaking to me.”

“Suit yourself,” the model clutched a fur jacket and a PVC skirt in her hands, ready to snag the cute plastic earrings at the cashier before checking out. 

“Are you at least getting some inspo?” she asked again.

“Yes! I think. I don’t know. If it’s from this. I’m inspired, though. I’ve been inspired,” Sasha played with a lock of her curly blonde hair. 

“By…”

“You.”

Shea smiled. “Me?” she mimicked Sasha’s earlier response. 

“Shea,” the russian rolled her eyes. “Stop making fun of me when I confess my undying love,”

“Is that what we’re doing now?” Shea feigned surprise. “In the middle of the store?”

“Let’s buy you some lesbian earrings, I don’t think I’m going to get anything. Today,” she added.

It was when they were at the cash register when they simultaneously spotted the paparazzi—again. The same one. Across the street. Coming closer. Fuck.

Sasha bit her lip, not wanting to abandon the clothing Shea seemed so excited about. She didn’t have much time to think, so she mustered a “could you put these on hold? We’ll be back eventually,” before sliding the worker a twenty for their hassle. Whether or not they accepted that offer was yet to be found out, as Sasha and Shea were already out the door.

Their rush to escape the prying eyes of the cameraman took them to the metro, into a subway car, breathlessly plopping down in the only two open seats. Would either of their management teams let something like this occur? No. 

Well. Too late. They were off, hopefully away from the paparazzi for good this time.

The pair kept their heads down in order to attempt to conceal their identities, as if that would do much on a crowded subway. But attempt was the key word in this situation. It didn’t stop them from stealing glances at each other the entire ride, smiling stupidly at absolutely nothing.

“So, Shea,” Sasha started.

“So, Sasha.”

“Where are we going?”

“Dummy, you’ll see, that’s the whole point.”

“You did not just call me a dummy.”

“What if I did, blondie?”

“Perpetuating not only female stereotypes, but hair color stereotypes? Tsk tsk,” Sasha shoved the taller woman’s arm lightly. Shea giggled in that full, sexy way that her voice always sounded, her voice trailing off into nothing, the pair falling into comfortable silence for a few moments. 

“What?” Sasha asked, her voice laced with a joking tone.

“Nothing, I just like your face,” Shea replied with a wink.

“Oh my god, I swear I’m going to kill you one of these days,” Sasha rolled her eyes playfully, her cheeks flushing pink. 

The train stopped, Shea perked up.

“This is us,” she said, her pearly white teeth peeking out from a satisfied smile.

Once again their hands interlaced in a gentle display of affection, Shea more familiar with public transport (despite a couple years of not using it) than Sasha, leading her through the complicated catacombs of the metro station.

They emerged in a park, and a smile immediately found itself creeping onto Sasha’s face. Reluctantly, they severed their skin-to-skin contact at the sight of the crowded lawn, Sasha dubitifully following Shea’s path.

Their altitude heightened and the amount of people decreased, and the sun shone bright on the two girls as the hill they climbed steepened.

Shea stopped, smiling at the sight of a familiar footpath. 

“It’s still here!” She pointed out, mainly to herself, almost jogging through an overhang of trees. 

Sasha scurried after her, the sun disappearing briefly behind the leaves before reappearing even brighter than before in a small, protected, deserted clearing, overlooking the entire city.

Shea stood at the edge, looking like nothing short of a painting with a slight breeze ruffling her long black hair, set against the picturesque landscape.

Sasha appeared behind her, the sunlight bringing out her rosy cheeks and freckles. 

In that moment they were joined together in the same work of art.

“Shea, this is so beautiful,” was all Sasha could say.

“I came here to think when I was younger, after school. I kind of hated my friends. And then I met new ones, and then we came here at night and we drank and we smoked. And then, you’ll never guess,” Shea explained excitedly. Sasha hung onto her every word like it was gospel, wanting to retain every single slice of the taller girl’s life.

“I think I have some idea,” Sasha laughed.

“I had my first kiss here, too. Only good memories. I haven’t been back for a while, but I guess I just never found the need to.”

“We’re coming back, Shea. When we get chased by paparazzi, we’ll go here,” Sasha said, her eyes darting from the city to Shea and back again, not quite sure which sight was more beautiful.

They found themselves laying in the grass, side by side, staring up at the clouds. Cliche, but so, so wonderful.

“I’m just glad we ditched that creep,” Shea mused.

“I just— what does he want? What does he want out of seeing us together?” Sasha pursed her lips.

“I think you know just as well as I do.”

“Yeah, the fans get even more fuel for their shipping fire.”

“We are always together… “

“Of course, but we’re not together together.” 

Pause.

Shea turned her head to Sasha, who was already looking at her. 

“What if I wanted… to be together. Together,” the words weren’t exactly unplanned, but they still sounded alien to Shea’s lips.

“Shea—”

“No, it’s fine if you don’t. I just thought, natural progression.”

“Shea, oh my god, I think I love you,” Sasha’s warm hands were on Shea’s cheeks. 

“Wh-” and the word was cut off by the most magical, euphoric, shiny sparkly fiery kiss that Shea had ever experienced in her life. The first thing she registered was the taste of coffee and vanilla still on Sasha’s lips. The second was each time their tongues found their way into the others mouth it an entire fireworks show exploded. The third was her arms snaking around the pale girl’s small waist and her own arms tracing up and down Shea’s side. 

“I love you,” Sasha repeated against Shea’s lips, catching them between her own red-stained mouth. 

“I love you, too, Sasha Velour. That’s what I wanted to say today. Thank you for making it easier,” Shea kissed the other girl’s nose.

“You put together this whole day for us, for it to get ruined, for you to bring me here?”

“We were coming here no matter what. Only good things happen here. Sasha, you’re the best thing yet.”

Sasha blushed, unabashedly now, then pressed another kiss onto Shea’s lips. She traced the side of the raven-haired woman’s face, Shea sighed into her mouth.

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?” she asked, Sasha laughing at the obvious question.

“Nothing would make me happier. Really.”

The gaydar of the world was correct, it seemed, in picking soulmates in the two girls.

Under the light of the sun, in the grass, with the breeze sliding over their faces, they were Living & New.

——

The door clicked shut.

And Sasha’s pale, slender hand dropped from the handle. She turned around, eyes scanning the woman taking off her jacket.

Shea looked back with a smirk, finding it hilariously sexy when Sasha tried to give ‘the look.’

“There’s no need for bedroom eyes, we’re already in your bedroom.”

“Really? I would have never guessed,” the blonde teased as she took their coats and shoes and placed them by the door. They’d come in so excitedly that they headed straight for Sasha’s room without thinking.

“But it’s okay,” the taller woman padded over to Sasha, lifting her chin up to face her. “I like it here.”

“You’d better, especially since you’ll be here so often” Sasha leaned in close, her voice a playful whisper.

“Will I, now?”

“Hmm,” was the Russian’s response, as her lips were already interlocked with Shea’s.

Their lips moved together familiarly, the feel and taste of each other’s mouths still fresh in their memories. Almost immediately Shea’s hands reached for the hem of Sasha’s turtleneck, beckoning her to remove it, and Sasha smirked as she pushed Shea back onto the bed. The woman was silhouetted against the nighttime cityscape behind the bed — similarly to earlier that day at the park. 

Sasha broke the kiss with a soft bite on Shea’s lip, wiggling out of the taller girl’s grasp. Shea made a noise in protest, but the blonde shushed her. She walked to the other side of the bed, so now her back was to the giant plexiglass window. 

“You want my shirt off?” she teased, watching Shea scan over her quizzically. 

The model nodded.

Sasha chuckled softly while slowly stripping off the cotton top. Her bra was lacy and white and pushed her breasts up slightly in a way that drove Shea mad. Shea crawled over the bed, beginning to unzip her own dress frantically.

“No, babe, wait,” Sasha smiled. “I thought you’d like a show.”

Shea’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“You spoil me,” she brought her hands to her heart. “This is so fucking sexy.”

The slight growl in the model’s voice sent a shock from the back of Sasha’s neck to her core. She fumbled with the zipper of her pencil skirt, trying her best to remove the stiff fabric in a provocative manner. Of course, the designer could fall flat on her face and Shea would still find it sexy, but Sasha was nothing if not a pleaser.

To Shea’s surprise and delight, Sasha was hiding a pair of matching white garters underneath the long skirt. All day. Just for her.

“Holy shit.”

“Like what you see?”

“Fuck, Sasha,” Shea raised a hand to beckon the shorter girl over. Her palms hovered over Sasha’s hips as she took the girl in entirely. “Can I—”

“Always,” Sasha bit her lip, brushing a finger through Shea’s dark hair. 

Shea guided Sasha onto her lap, the motion causing her minidress to ride up as she pressed her lips onto Sasha’s once again. Kissing Shea was an experience that could only be described as heaven on Earth, her lips encapsulating the entirety of Sasha’s psyche, the way her tongue intertwined with hers intoxicating and addicting and beckoning to push deeper into the kiss. Her hands threaded their way through Shea’s long black hair while Shea’s roamed Sasha’s small frame, feeling every bit of soft exposed skin and every inch of scratchy lace. 

Sasha felt Shea’s lithe fingers unclasp her bra, and hummed softly in affirmation as she let the other woman slide it off. Shea’s pillowy lips latched onto the crook of Sasha’s neck, tracing short and gentle kisses, sucks, licks, and bites down her clavicle. She looked up at Sasha to see her blue eyes blown out and dark, a pale finger swiping over her cheek and a smile creeping onto her stained-red lips. Shea smiled back mishieviously, taking the girl’s nipple in her mouth and swirled around the bud, her other hand cupping the other breast. Sasha let out a moan at the sensitive contact, greedily pushing the back of Shea’s head closer. Shea nibbled playfully in response and let out a muffled laugh into Sasha’s chest.

“You’re so needy!” she smiled. She pulled back and continued to knead the other woman’s breasts. 

“Shea, I made a mistake,” Sasha bit her lip. Shea confusedly paused, worry glazing her expression.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Sasha couldn’t stop herself from grinning foxily. “I shouldn’t have got you so worked up, now I have to wait for you to fuck me.”

Shea snort-laughed, her hands instinctively reaching out and touching Sasha’s arms. “You little shit! Get on your back already!”

Sasha contentedly obliged, getting comfortable at the head of the bed. Shea took off her dress in the meantime, crawling in between Sasha’s legs. 

“Is this better, my fair lady?” Shea asked sarcastically.

“Yes… but….”

“But….”

“Your mouth is up here, and not down there!”

“I hate you.”

“I love you!”

Shea smirked and crashed her lips on Sasha’s once again, her hands gripping at the hem of the pale girl’s underwear and shimmying it lower. She disconnected the kiss and stripped the rest of Sasha’s garters off, taking a moment to admire the woman laid before her. Sasha was thin, with toned arms from her hours of drawing and sewing, broad shoulders and smaller breasts and a tiny waist. Her skin was airbrush-smooth, and freckles dusted her collarbone and shoulders and thighs. Shea wanted to kiss every little spot on her body.

“You are so beautiful,” Shea breathed. 

“I’m beautiful for a mere mortal, but that’s nothing next to a goddess like you.”

Shea’s cheeks grew warm, the praise making her heady. “If I’m Aphrodite, you’re nothing short of Athena.”

“The lesbian love story the Greeks didn’t deserve,” Sasha laughed. Her hands were kneading at the sheets under her, and although Shea could tell she was trying to be intelligent in the moment, she was obviously growing impatient. Shea looked down and could see the wetness coating Sasha’s pussy and had to hold back a chuckle at how well the girl was holding herself back. 

Conversation ceased as Shea leaned down, fulfilling her self-promise and kissing up Sasha’s milky thighs, nearing closer to where Sasha wanted her the most. Shea avoided it, kissing around her pelvis and nipping where the skin was soft. Again, her mouth drew nearer and Sasha whimpered.

“What do you want, baby?”

“Shea…”

The model looked up with a glint in her eyes.

“It’s okay, Sasha, you’re with me. You don’t have to be so uptight, especially not now.” She kissed right on top of her clit. Sasha whined.

“What do you want me to do, baby?”

“Just—just… you know, just—”

“I don’t know,” Shea smirked.

“Goddamnit, just eat me out already!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, princess.” 

And Shea was licking languidly down Sasha’s folds, savoring the way she tasted and going back for more. She probed around her entrance, the soft sounds Sasha was making before gradually growing into prolonged moans. The designer’s voice wasn’t high pitched naturally, so it translated into musical and full sounds under Shea’s touch and Shea couldn’t get her unique moaning out of her brain. She flattened her tongue against her clit and immediately a strangled ‘mmph’ sounded above and two small hands found themselves buried in Shea’s hair.

Shea licked, pressing harder with each pass as Sasha got more and more worked up. Her voice was breathy and her hips were bucking off of the mattress and her head was turned to the side, and she just looked so pretty with the sheen of sweat coating her forehead and her hair around her head in a curly halo.

Sasha’s hands roamed to her own breasts, the motion being impossible to hold back as she kneaded them in time with Shea’s mouth. The taller woman hoisted Sasha’s thighs upwards and continued to lick, sucking over and over again at her clit, now at a better angle.

Sasha’s thighs were trembling as the pressure in her lower abdomen increased, her calves spasming as the sensations became too much to handle. She couldn’t stop herself—even if she wanted to— from letting obscene, low, drawn out sounds escape her throat. Shea’s mouth felt too good to suppress it, and Sasha was willing to let it go for once. If not for her own good, for Shea. 

Sasha tried to catch her bottom lip in between her teeth, but as soon as she bit it another shock of Shea’s tongue brought out another moan and her head was knocked back and her lips open.

It was when Shea heard her name being yelped over and over that she knew Sasha was close, and registered that she herself was probably dripping wet. If the nonverbal sounds turned Shea on, her own name almost sent her over the edge.

Shea brought her hand up to gently hover around Sasha’s entrance, continuing her assault on her clit. 

“S-sh-oh my god, oh my fuck-” was something along the lines of what Sasha rambled on about, gasping for air as her orgasm reached it’s very climax. Shea felt her tense briefly, before her entire body relaxed and Sasha was muttering softly and finally breathing regularly again.

Shea’s mouth was swollen, her tongue sore, her body tired. She fell beside Sasha on the pillows, turning and watching as the blonde regained her senses. She was a vision, wrapped up in the sheets with her makeup smudges and her eyes half shut and tired. Suddenly, she seemingly remembered something and turned to Shea.

“Do you need me to, now?”

“What, fuck me?” Shea smiled. Sasha nodded.

Shea looked down at herself. She was wet, that fact was undeniable. She was also tired, but as her arm tingled at Sasha’s feather-light touch, her energy inconspicuously returned.

Shea kissed Sasha softly, all lips and no teeth, as Sasha’s hand made its way lower and lower. Sasha cherished Shea as if she was a goddess — well, to her, she was. She wanted to feel every part of her warm skin, register it’s softness and make sure it was real and that the beautiful woman lying beside her was, in fact, tangible. Sasha caressed her thigh and moved inward, trying to fit her dainty hand in between Shea’s thighs.

Shea’s breath hitched when Sasha’s fingers hovered over her clit, and she gave the other woman more space so her hand would slip lower. Sasha gently slid her hand through Shea’s already-slick folds, and a little whimper drew itself from Shea’s throat.

“You sound so pretty, Shea,” Sasha’s voice was soft. 

“I-” Shea was interrupted by her own whine as Sasha pressed against her clit. “Not as g-good as—fuck—you, I bet.”

“I beg to differ,” Sasha replied with a smirk and a breathy tone, massaging small circles now. Their faces were nearly touching, but Shea threw her head back now, mouth stuck in an ‘o.’

“Aah—agree to disagree-ohh-” Shea looked back with wide eyes. “Right there, fuck, that feels so good,” her hips were doing their best to grind forward, knocking into Sasha’s pelvis a little.

Sasha had an idea, then.

“Darling, prop yourself up,” she smiled, planting a quick kiss on her forehead. Shea only had it in her to follow Sasha’s orders without a word.

With some maneuvering, Sasha managed to hook a leg over Shea’s and entangle herself in the other woman so that she could feel the heat from her sex on her own. Shea understood the scenario exactly, a giddy smile plastered on her face.

“Sash, you know me too well.”

With a considerable amount of effort, Sasha managed to bring their genitals into contact, and the sounds that escaped both women’s lips could have come straight out of a porno.

As they grinded in time, rubbing their pussies together, feeling probably the best they’d ever had ever and completely disregarding a need for lube because they were already wet anyway, they wondered why the hell they hadn’t thought of scissoring before. 

“Holy shit, Sasha, if I’d had known, fuck,” Shea tried to get out, but the pressure or Sasha against her clit just drowned out the words.

Sasha was basically post-verbal at this point— quite an achievement for someone such as herself— and she grabbed into Shea’s thigh in a vain attempt to ground herself. A feeling like this made her feel so high she wasn’t sure she’d come back down.

And so their cunts rubbed together, the only sound in the entire large three-story house the almost-hypersexual moans of the pair as those grew louder and closer to screams than anything.

“Shea, Shea, Shea, I-I think, oh god I’m going to—” Sasha frantically jerked her hips and yelled her relief as her second orgasm tore through her. The rush of fluid onto Shea’s pussy was enough to get her throbbing, and it wasn’t long before she finally got her release, shouting Sasha’s name.

The next few moments were a blur, the two women beyond spent, muscles sore and heads light. Apparently they both managed to hobble to the bathroom and tidy themselves up a bit, because the next thing Sasha fully registered was cuddling into Shea’s side. Shea didn’t even get that far, the moment her head touched her pillow, she was fast asleep.

Moonlight mixed with the lights of the city, basking the entire room in a periwinkle afterglow. It was entirely possible someone in one of the high-rise apartments across the street saw their whole ordeal, and the thought made Sasha laugh. If they’d known who they were, if they’d known what Sasha and Shea were doing, their lives would be over. The only thing that meant more to Sasha than Shea herself was Sasha’s work, her designs. To have that taken away was impossible, and she knew Shea felt the same about walking a runway.

Sasha squeezed Shea. In the privacy of her home, she could get used to this. In the light of the stars there was nobody to stop them from loving each other. No prying eyes and paparazzi stalkers. It was Sasha and Shea. And during the day, they could both have what they loved.

It was give and take. It was upsetting. But it was life, and the comfort of seeing each other after a hard days work made it all worth it, somehow,

Living in the sunlight, Loving in the moonlight.

#rpdr fanfiction #sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #song fic #lesbian au #fluff #smut #model x designer au #chae #submission

[eveningcatcher]

Main six + courtiers playing D&D part 1

"Alright, now that everyone's here," you said as you were looking over your papers, "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Wait, wait," Vulgora said, swinging their character sheet in the air, "How did you calculate any of these things? Why the fuck is here +5" she pointed at their intimidation stat, then moved her finger to the persuasion stat, "And here it's +3?"

"It's because you've added your proficiency bonus there," Nadia explained as she stirred her coffee.

"Proficiency?" they asked, frowning.

"That coloured dot," Julian said.

"Ohh, ohhhh, that makes sense now," they put the paper down and took the large gulp of their beer, recklessly spilling it over the white sheet of paper.

Valerius moves his chair away from the pontifex, as well as his character sheets, "So, I can leave in three hours, right?"

Read the whole chapter here

"Why would you want to leave so soon?" you asked them, pouring them a glass of wine.

"Because there is no fulfilment in wasting time with filling these sheets and sitting idly, spending the precious time in useless chatter about non-existing worlds and their non-existing characters going into non-existing journeys," quaestor added as they pulled a chair in between Volta and Vulgora, "If your heart yearns for such journeys and adventures then why don't you go on and experience them on your own?"

"I see you've done some research," Portia adds as she put a huge tray of food next to the procurator, "Ilya remember when we used to play D&D?"

Julian gave his sister a wide grin, "Oh, I remember when you started yelling at me whenever I would be a DM."

"Well that's because you would never let me do anything I wanted to," she put a cup of tea next to the praetor, "Careful, it's still hot."

"So how long do we play this game?" Vlastomil asked, "I need to take care of my dear Wriggler. Oh, how sad she was when I left," he frowned, quickly wiping a single dear, "She must be worried sick, wriggling around, eating her sorrows away..."

"Oh, I can completely understand her, yes I can," Volta rose her head from her food, giving the praetor an understanding look, "I always eat when I'm stressed and anxious."

"You always eat, though," Asra commented before facing Julian, "Did I fill this right?" they asked him.

"Hm, let me see," he took the papers, along with the player's handbook. He would list through the pages, not bothering to check the book content, only stopping when he needed to check the papers.

"Here," he pointed at the skills, "You can check another stat you want."

"Oh, thanks," they took the pencil and checked insight, adding the proficiency bonus.

"So, shall we begin then?" you asked as you raised DM's screen.

"Why do you have that?!? Where is mine?!?"

"Yeah, I want some too!" Lucio demanded.

"But I am the DM, players can't have this."

"Can we just begin already?" Muriel said something for the first time, "I just want to leave."

"Alright, fine. I hope you've all made yourselves comfortable because we won't take a break for a while."

"Oh, that's no good, no, that is terrible," tiny procurator said as she was chewing her food, spilling some of it out, "What about the food? We're almost out!"

"Don't worry dear," Nadia said, as she was taking one of her rings out, cleaning the emerald with her sleeve, "Food will be brought over the time, so let's just begin already."

"Alright, alright, let's begin now," you said as you gathered magic in your hands, letting it poof and cover the top of the table, "The story begins in a small tavern on the northern side of the human village-"

"Let's smash their skulls and claim all of their things!" Vulgora said as they smashed their fist on the table, moving the mist away.

"I mean, you could do that," you said, putting your finger on your lips as you gave their idea a bit more thought. Once you've come up with the satisfying idea, you started to control the mist, folding it to your liking, until the mist turned into an inside of a tavern, with all of their characters sitting on one table, some of them drinking, others talking(more like arguing) and others playing a game of cards.

Amongst them, there is one certain Dragonborn who can't seem to calm down. They stand up, walking over the table, then announcing their idea loudly enough for the other PC's to hear:

"Let's kill everyone in this stupid village!" the Dragonborn said.

"I don't know, I kinda like it here," Julian's PC said as they took another glass of beer.

"Oh, I love this magic smoke!" he said as he grabbed a handful of popcorn, munching on it as he tried not to spill it.

"I'll try my best to make it as realistic as possible," you said, as you stopped motioning with your hands once you were sure the magic will last, "But anyway, any other thoughts on Vulgora's idea?"

"Absolutely no." Nadia and her character said in unision.

"I have to agree with the countess," Valerius said as he went through his character sheets, "The guards will kill us all."

"No they won't," Vulgora responded sharply, "There are so many of us, we will kill them all!"

"We are all first level, so I doubt it," Portia said, taking the tray of food and setting it in front of hungry Volta.

"Wait, there are levels here," praetor asked, his head buried in the player's handbook, not understanding anything.

"Yes, twenty of them, apparently," Valdemar added calmly, clearly bored; "Um, is that supposed to happen?" Muriel asked as they pointed towards a figure walking towards their PC's.

With a sly grin, you started to tell them your story. Altering your voice to what you believe a tall, middle-aged sorcerer would sound like.

Everyone looked at each other as if they thought that the other knew what was going on. Once they realised that this is most likely something about your story, they looked at the fog and listened to the old sorcerer.

"So... you must be the adventurers who want to," he quickly took a glance at the other people in the tavern, leaning towards the table the group was sitting in, and, with a low voice, said, "Kill the gods?"

"I, uh," Muriel stuttered, not knowing how to react, however, Asra started talking, moving the attention to them and, with a sly grin, said "Yes, you got the right people."

"Oh, ho, so it is indeed you," he chuckled, "What an... interesting bunch you are... reminds me of the last adventurers who have tried to do what you long for..." he smiled, "Ohh, those were the times, yes indeed they were."

"Tell us more about them," Portia insisted.

"Ohh, they were, you know, quite the colourful bunch," he said, "Though not as big as you are. Just a small group of three, a human, tiefling and a..." he stopped talking for a moment, taking the time to run their bony hands through the beard, "A, hmm, was she a pureblood, or a human too... I can't quite recall," he shrugged it off with a simple gesture of hands, "It doesn't matter. The important, and a quite interesting part, is that they were all wronged by the world and-"

"Oh, please make it quick, I don't care about them!" Vulgora's PC said.

"I use my cantrip prestidigitation to muffle out their complains," Asra said.

"Okay, you succeeded," you said, through a giggle as you muted Vulgora's endless number of complaints.

"," Vulgora tried to say something, but no words could be heard from their lips. However, this couldn't stop them, so they signed to Asra a few words, probably the only ones they knew how to sign: I'll crush you, wizard boy!

"Sorry about that my good sir," Nadia's PC turned on her chair, calling a taverner, "Could you please bring us some ginger ale for this gentleman?"

The sorcerer chuckled, satisfied with the free drink and continued, "Well then, where was I again, ah yes," he stroke his long beard as he recalled the lore, "Those three were, quite a chaotic bunch to say the least. They all hated this society, but they didn't blame the government, no no, they blamed the gods who have created this world. So anyway, what is the reason behind your decision?" he leaned to Muriel's druid, "Is it power, glory and praise? No, you don't look like the type who desires such things..." he muttered, leaning towards the evil Tiefling, "What about you, oh I think I know!" he nodded with satisfaction, "You seek the answers, young one, don't you? Or maybe it's the curiosity; what would the world be like with no god? Oh, ho, ho..." he sat back to his chair, just in time as he was handed the beverage and took a huge gulp, choking on it. With a few loud coughs, he calmed down and continued, "Well then, I must warn you, everyone who tried to kill a God has met the same fate, so I truly hope that your reason is worth it."

"Of course it is!" Lucio exclaimed, happy that the attention finally focused on him, "If we kill Gods, then everyone would be forced to become an atheist, and the only person that they could worship would be me!"

Everyone took a moment of silence to think through his preposterous statement. Julian and Portia tried to muffle their laugh, while Vugora, who finally got the ability to talk again stayed silent.

"Well, I mean," the old man started, "I guess it's not that bad. There wouldn't be any cultist attacks anymore..." he stayed silent after that statement as he, slowly this time, took a sip of the drink. Once he had drunk it all, he stood up, "Well, thank you, my children, for the drink, in return, I offer you the map to three of twelve artefacts that you'll need to kill a god."

"Wait, what are we supposed to do after we got them?" Volta asked as she chewed on a sandwich with excitement in her eyes. She was certainly enjoying this a lot more than she had expected to.

In response, the sorcerer chuckled, but this time, there was something odd in his voice, "Oh, please, only two people have gotten all three of the artefacts," after that bold statement, he seemed to have realised that he might have sounded a bit too dark, so he changed the tone, giving the group a warm smile, "But I'm sure that you could get them. Oh, ho, ho, after all, there is eleven of you, I'm sure some of you could be lucky enough."

With that, he dropped them a scroll and slowly walked towards the exit. "So," you said, "What will you do with the scroll?"

"Read it, obviously," Valerius responded, trying to sound as though he was bored.

"Alright. Nadia, you have opened the scroll, however, you can't understand anything it's written. However, you Valdemar seem to understand it. It's written in Infernal."

"Very well, then," they extended a hand to Nadia, "Give me the scroll."

"Um," she looked at you, as you gathered fog in your hands, forming a scroll with some unreadable words to her, but, when she handed it to Valdemar, they seemed to be able to read it. They didn't read it aloud, instead, they simply rolled their eyes.

"Come on, read it already!" Valstomil demanded.

"Very well then," they started reading a scroll, with a dull voice"Hot elf moms in your area are looking for a good time. No need for a pouch, they just want your big-"

"WRONG SCROLL, WRONG SCROLL!!!" the sorcerer rushed into the tavern, snatching the scroll, replacing it with a lot older one, a bit ripped at the side.

Everyone, excluding some burst into laughter. Portia's face has gotten so red that Julian laughed even louder, pointing at her, even though he didn't look any better. Asra tried to hold in the laugh, knowing that this is not the joke they should laugh at, while Muriel innocently asked Volta what was the big thing elf moms wanted. Neither one of them knew the answer, so they asked Vulgora, who gladly responded with: "Elves want the di-" they stopped as soon as they saw the Countess' disapproving look.

"I swear if this one is also a 'wrong scroll' I'm leaving," Valerius said.

"Alright, alright," you said, a bit disappointed that not everyone enjoyed the joke as much as you did, "Here you go, Julian" you handed him another scroll.

He took it and, with a bit of scepticism, started reading in a dramatic voice, accenting a random word that he found interesting: "The first artefact is Abaddon's dagger. It lies untouched in the Saint Milu's church, slowly rusting away, waiting for its owner to return, or perhaps, for another champion worthy of them..." he stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath and asked in a normal tone: "So, how was that?"

"Perfect Ilyushka!" Portia said with a smile, "You can read the scrolls from now on!" she shifted her gaze to you, "So, how are we supposed to find that dagger?"

"I don't know," you sulked into your seat, "You're supposed to think of an idea," you slowly straightened your posture, "But, if you get stuck, I guess I will help you out."

"Shouldn't we go ask some people about that church?" Volta asked as she bit on cherry cheesecake.

"That seems to be the best option," Nadia concluded, "Then, let's go, shall we?"

Before they left, Julian took a d20 and said with a smirk, "I roll sleight of hand check to see if I can steal some money from that dude drinking beer," he pointed at some random guy sitting next to the exit.

"Alright," you said, "Go on."

He put the dice in between his hands, pretending to pray and rolled it. The dice hit Volta's plate, to which she flinched, and then finally, the dice stopped. It rolled on 16.

"Yeah, you succeeded," you started as you grabbed some popcorn, "You took a little pouch, containing 2gp."

"I walk to the gentleman and inform him that his pouch has been stolen by this terrible man," Valerius said with a sly grin as he sipped his wine.

"Dude NO!" Julian shouted.

Before you could determine the outcome you turned to see if Valerius is still sure about his decision, to which he simply nodded. Amused by the way this is going so far, you said: "Well, you've told the man about the stolen money," you shifted your hands up, moulding the fog to your imagination, then continued talking in a masculine voice, "That rascal! Thank you, my man, at least some of this youth is still polite," the man stood up, walked to Julian, slapped him right across the face and took the old pouch from his hands, "How disrespectful, did your mother teach you that?!?!"

Asra giggled like a highschooler while Muriel looked amused as he listened to Volta commenting about how, if he were to steal her food, she would have given him more than just a slap.

"Roll a d20 to see how bad the imprint looks," you took the d20 that still laid next to Volta's plate to Julian. This time, he didn't do anything fancy, instead, he just rolled it expecting to get some low number.

"Natural twenty," you snorted, hiding your face in your hands from laughter, "Oh my god," you felt your face getting redder and redder from the lack of oxygen, "Yeah, that will defenetely leave a mark," you shifted the fog towards Julian's face, imprinting a red handprint across his left cheek.

"You look like a fucking idiot!" Vulgora laughed their ass off, pointing at Julian's face.

"Serves you right for doing such a crime!" Vlastomil added, along with Volta who just nodded in approval, too busy with eating to respond.

"Was it really necessary for you to be a snitch, consul?" Nadia asked, "After all, I believe that the point of the game is to do anything you want."

Valerius, in response, gave an ironic smile, lowering his head as if he were to bow, "But countess, I am simply acting according to my," he raised his sheet, "Alignment."

"Can we beat our teammates?" Portia asked.

"Why not," you smiled, still thinking about Julain's scar.

"Okay, so, consul," Portia turned to Valerius, "If you decide to be a snitch again, " she put her hand on Asra's shoulder, "We will beat you up!"

"Just take all of his possessions and give it to the poor if he likes helping so much," Muriel commented as he peeled lemon as if it were an orange.

"Muriel," Portia walked to him and gave him the tightest hug she could, "You're a genius! MC, give him 50gp for such a brilliant idea!"

"Sorry, but I can't," you shifted in your seat as you arranged some of the papers, "But I can continue with the story!"

"Finally, I was getting bored," Valdemar said, "When can I summon the dead?"

"When you reach the third level, I believe," you gave them a quick response and then continued talking about the campaign, "So anyway, you leave the tavern with Julian. who is still dazed by the slap-"

"You'll make this a permanent scar, won't you?" he asked as he pointed at his face.

"Of course I will. So, you left the tavern and noticed a bleeding beggar on the side, what do you do?"

"Valerius, this is your chance!" Asra said mockingly.

"Can we help them?" Volta asked, looking at the fog, "She looks like she hasn't been eating for days!"

"They're bleeding and you're caring about that," Lucio turned to Volta, then to others, "Why should we do anything? MC is probably just messing with us."

"Like with that scroll!" Vlastomil agreed.

"Do they have anything valuable that we could take?" Valdemar asked.

"Oh, I'm glad you're finally getting the hang of roleplaying, quaestor, but no, they don't have anything useful."

"Hm," the quaestor was silent for a moment, then they responded with a gleam of delight in their eyes, "I need components for my spells, no?" they didn't give you the time to respond, "While she may not have any valuables, she still has bones, doesn't she?"

"Valdemar no!" Nadia said.

"Why not, after all, the point of the game is to do anything you want, isn't it?" Valerius, said, still a bit salty.

"Shut up, all of you!" Portia said as she slammed her hands on the table, which made you flinch, "At this point, she'll bleed to death! Julian do something!"

"Why me?"

"Because you have Cure wounds! Use it to heal her!"

"But then I'll spend my slot."

"BuT tHeN I'lL sPeNd mY sLoT," she said as she mimicked him, "I don't care, do it, or else I'll give you a matching scar on the other cheek!"

"Fine... I use my spell on the beggar."

"Okay, you succeeded, the beggar is not bleeding, what now?" you asked.

"I give her some of my food rations," Volta said.

"Alright," you changed the fog to show a healed beggar with some food in front of her, "You've helped her, congrats, but she doesn't say anything, instead, she just stares at you."

"Let's just keep going," Asra said, "We've done enough."

"I agree, let's go for that dagger!"

"But we don't know where it is," Vlastomil said.

"Let's just snoop around then," Portia said with a smile.

"You're in a town," you pointed at the fog which showed their PC's walking around the village, "What now?"

"We ask the NPC's if they know where that church is," Asra said as his PC walked to one woman, "Excuse me, do you know where..." he stopped for a moment to think, " Saint Milu is?"

"Why I do," she said, "But, are you sure you want to go? It's very dangerous."

"Of course we do!" Vulgora added, "Nothing is too dangerous, you're just making a fuss over nothing!"

"Well, if you're so confident, then if you do go there and return alive, I'll tell my dad and he'll reward you."

"Um...sure?" Asra said, a bit reluctant.

"But I need proof that you were there!"

"Sure, what do you want?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" she pouted, "I've never gone there myself. I told you it's too dangerous, remember?"

"Alright, alright, we'll bring you a battle trophy, just tell us where to go, goddammit!" Vulgora said, clearly losing their patience.

"Alright, alright, sheesh," she said, "Just go north from the city's shop. It's the last house in the village, just straight forward," she extended her hand in front of herself, "You can't miss it!"

"Thank you," Julian said, "By the way, has anyone ever told you you look dazzling?"

"Why thank you, " she smiled, "Too bad I can't say the same for your face," she giggled and went her way.

"OH MY GOD!!!" Portia snorted, unable to sustain the laughter.

"You'll keep doing this to me, won't you?" Julian asked defeated.

You nodded and continued., with the narration: "You've walked to the small shop. Do you want to stop by to buy some things?"

All of them agreed and went inside.

"Oh, travellers, I haven't seen any of them in a while. Greetings, greetings, how may I help you," he turned to Vlastomil and Valdemar's PC, to which he immediately shouted, shaking in fear, "Oh GOD, please, please don't kill me! I don't have any valuables, nor do I have much money, plus I'm not tasty, see?" he pointed at himself, "I'm only skin and bone! I barely have anything to feed my son with, please, please spare me!"

"Um, sir," Nadia said, "We are not here to kill you... we just want to buy something."

"You do?" the man straightened himself, grasping at Nadia's hands with tears of joy, "Oh thank you, thank you! I thought this was going to be the last day of my life! Please, ask for anything that you need!"

"Do you have healer's kit?" Volta asked.

"Why I certainly do, my dear," the shopkeeper responded, "That'll be 7gp."

"But isn't the price for that 5gp?" Portia asked.

"It is," the shopkeeper said, "However, I had to buy this in the town and to go all the way to here. Plus I'm also the only shopkeeper in all of the nearby villages."

"Could you give us a special price," Julian asked, "After all we are the adventurers, so we'll surely buy many things!"

"Are you buying the healer's kit for him, dear?" he asked Volta, "I doubt that will be enough to help him," before Julian could protest about the rude comment again, the shopkeeper clapped his hands and said, "But I sure know what could help you!" he bowed down and took a little bottle, "Mommy's kiss!"

"Mommy's kiss?"

"Yes, mommy's kiss is a powerful cream that can clear your skin from any acne, blackheads and, most importantly, scars! Suitable for any race and any skin type! My son loves it!"

"If that's the only thing that will remove this scar, then sure. How much for Mommy's kiss?"

"Well, this is a rare cream that can remove any skin imperfection, but for you, my fine gentleman, I'll lower the price to 200 gp!"

"Two hundred gold pieces for that tiny bottle!?!"

"Well, it is Mommy's kiss, after all."

"Sorry, but I'll have to pass."

"But I'll take the healer's kit," Volta said.

"And I'll take five arrows," Portia said.

"Why does the Great axe cost 30gp?!?" Lucio asked.

"But I only have 10!!!" Vulgora said, "How can we get the money?!?"

"Well, if you go to the Saint Milu, you'll get some money," you said.

"Ughh, fine..."

"Excuse me, sir," Valdemar leaned to the shopkeeper who nervously sweated, "Do you, by any chance, sell bones of the humanoids?"

"Eek!" the shopkeeper said.

"Okay, so, Valdemar, the shopkeeper is terrified of you," you started, "Because of that, you have an advantage on rolling intimidation check. So if you want to force them to give you something, feel free to try."

"Oh, how fun," Valdemar's eyes glowed with joy, "Are there any scrolls here?"

"I, I do have some scrolls," he said, visibly shaking.

"I'll take the one with the inflict wounds spell," they said.

You threw two d20 at them, "Roll them, the AC is 15."

They rolled the dice, where one dice landed on 4 while the other one on 14.

"Is your intimidation at least +1?"

They took a glance at the skills table and gave you a toothy grin.

"You got the scroll, however, the shopkeeper told you to get out or else he'll call the guards."

"Too bad. Looks like you're not going to get Mommy's kiss, Ilyushka!"

"Fear not, we're going to find you Mommy's kiss in some other shop," Lucio said, laughing mid-sentence.

"So, because Muriel has a keen mind feat, he leads all of you north."

"You go Muri!" Portia cheered.

"...Thanks."

Read the whole chapter here

#the arcana #the arcana courtiers #the arcana main 6 #valdemar #vulgora #vlastomil #volta #valerius #consul valerius #the arcana lucio #the arcana asra #the arcana nadia #the arcana portia #the arcana julian #the arcana muriel #the arcana headcanons #the arcana imagines

[farabeezer]

50 questions tag

i was tagged by: @carter-hearts (ty! <3)

i know this is basically shouting into the void but i love doing these things so im just gonna do it for myself 

(edit: WAIT i just realised that @savebyhellebuyck also tagged me, thanks mate and obviously youve already done it so ignore the tag lmao)

1. what is the color of your hair brush? black

2. name a food you never eat? onions. ew

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? im ALWAYS too hot (hot damn)

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? eating tea ig (pasta with tomato sauce and veg, im so healthy yknow)

5. what’s your favorite candy bar? omg, boost bars, i love them so much

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? um some football (”soccer”) games, a couple rugby games in my local area (and one at twickenham which was Epic)

7. what was the last thing you said out loud? “there’s 160 teabags in this box!” (to which my flatmate said “oh you’re set for the week then” which was. rude.)

8. what is your favorite ice cream? vanilla. boring af

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? friday night i had a LOAD of rum and cokes and a vodka lemonade (i have a sweet tooth lmao). if you mean just any beverage then im drinking tea rn

10. do you like your wallet? YES its so cool its bright yellow i love it

11. what was the last thing you ate? my tea (see above lol)

12. did you buy any new clothing last week? nah i hate spending money

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? the last isles-bolts game :’(

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? sweet and salty mix

15. who was the last person you sent a text to? my sister

16. ever go camping? oh yeah i go every year with the fam because its cheaper than an abroad holiday lmao

17. do you take your vitamins? uh only at ~that time of the month~, i take iron. i think vitamins are like way more of an american thing? most people i know don’t take any vitamins unless they have a specific deficiency 

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? my family are catholic but im not a very good one lol

19. do you have a tan? yeah tanning naturally is my only talent

20. do you prefer chinese or pizza? chinese! definitely

21. do you drink soda through straws? only if i can be bothered to find a straw lmao so normally no

22. what color socks do you usually wear? black or white ;)

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? i can’t drive lol. not because im too young its just i cant afford lessons or anything

24. what terrifies you? the idea of being buried alive. ahhh

25. look to your left, what do you see? window

26. what chore do you hate the most? cleaning the hob/sink/other peoples food messes, ew

27. what do you think when you hear an australian accent? those seagulls in finding nemo. but i lowkey love the aussie accent though

28. what’s your favorite soda? you mean ~fizzy drink~. anyway its diet coke

29. do you ever go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? again i can’t drive so normally i just. walk inside

30. what’s your favorite number? 19, my squad number on my rugby team

31. who’s the last person you talked to? my flatmate (see no. 7 :) )

32. favorite cut of beef? i literally only eat mince or burgers so like. i don’t know about the cuts. ive never even had a steak im Clueless

33. last song you listened to? think about things by dadi freyr (iceland’s eurovision song this year. its so good go listen now. actually listen to everything those guys sing they’re all bops)

34. last book you read? “1914 and other poems” by Rupert Brooke 

35. favorite day of the week? probably tuesday. or saturday

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? uh probably not

37. how do you like your coffee? iced - white with a little sugar

38. favorite pair of shoes? my fake balenciagas ;)

39. time you normally get up? in lockdown, like 11-12. now i actually have things to do its maybe 8

40. do you prefer sunrise or sunset? sunset. if i see the sunrise it means im either up way too late or up way too early and thats just not fun

41. describe your kitchen plates? i have one plate. its green and i got it for free from one of my sister’s flatmates

42. how many blankets are on your bed? duvet, one blanket at the end and another down the side for emergencies

43. describe your kitchen at the moment? its big because there’s nine of us living here but there is NOT enough counters >:(

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? at the moment its spiced captain morgan (rum) and a little splash of diet coke. i love a good pint of Doom Bar though

45. do you play cards? i know like two card games so not really

46. what color is your car? no car :)

47. can you change a tire? in theory? but like id have to be desperate not to just call AA or someone to do it for me lol

48. favorite state? american state? like probably ohio? seems chill and rural. i know nothing about us states though don’t come at me. the equivalent here is counties so my fave county is 100% conwy

49. favorite job you’ve had? nah mate who enjoys working

50. tagging: i have no friends on here yet so like. @softgrantaire @savebyhellebuyck  @u-okay-hen and anyone else who wants to! (no obligation at all though lol you guys are just the only people i know here)

#about me #tag game

[noona-clock]

DaySense: Summer ☀️ - Part 2, Final Chapter

A Day6 collab series with the lovely @cramelot 💋

Genre: College & Soulmate!AU

Pairing: Jae x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2

You had been an avid fan of Day6 for almost two years now, though it honestly felt like it was just yesterday when you’d seen them play at your favorite coffee shop on campus.

It had been during your second year of college, and... frankly, it hadn’t been a good time for you. Your younger sister had been going through some scary health issues, your dad had lost his job, your Chemistry professor was a huge asshole and wouldn’t let you try to bring your grade up with some extra assignments, and... your boyfriend had just dumped you.

So when you’d been moping over a hazelnut latte and heard these sweet angel voices singing a song called “Colors,” you’d fallen in love instantly.

You had recognized one of the musicians, the bass player, from your literature class, but the others you hadn’t seen before. And one of the guitarists, the blonde with the glasses, had caught your eye. By the end of their set, you hadn’t been able to take your eyes off him and had become determined to find out more about him.

Ever since then, you’d followed them around. You’d been to as many gigs and shows and competitions as you could, always sitting far enough away so they wouldn’t notice you.

You were a fangirl, yes, but you weren’t that type of fangirl.

They were fellow students, after all. It’s not like they were some elevated beings who deserved to be worshipped and treated like Gods. You absolutely adored their music, and you eventually developed a major crush on Jae, but you didn’t want to make a big show of meeting them or getting their autograph or asking to take pictures or anything.

Although... you did definitely daydream about Jae. A lot.

He was just so cute! And funny! You had his tweet notifications turned on, and it took everything in you not to like and retweet every single one just seconds after he posted it.

But you kept all this to yourself because what if you ended up in the same class together?! Or what if you ran into him on campus?! If you told one of your friends about your crush, they would tell someone else who was a friend of a friend of one of the other Day6 members, and Jae would end up hearing about this random girl who was in love with him without ever having met him and you would never stand a chance at actually dating him.

So yeah.

You were a fangirl, but you weren’t that type of fangirl.

Although last night had hit you pretty hard.

Watching Day6′s amazing performance of one of your favorite songs, “Congratulations” and then hearing their name announced for third runner up?

Yikes.

You couldn’t even imagine how they felt.

You tried not to think too much about it, how unfair it all was, but now that spring classes were over and summer classes had yet to begin... you didn’t really have much else to think about.

So when you woke up around 8 this morning, around the usual time you woke up for classes all semester, you decided to head to the closest coffee shop for an iced hazelnut latte.

When you didn’t have anything on your schedule, you tended to stay in bed (or at least in your pajamas) all day, so it was best if you made yourself get up and actually do something.

After throwing on some shorts, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap, you headed out to procure your cold, caffeinated beverage.

Not even twenty minutes after leaving your apartment, you were already exiting the cafe, iced latte in hand.

When classes weren’t in session, apparently, things around campus were pretty dead. There was no extremely long line at the cafe, and the baristas hadn’t been backlogged with orders like they usually were.

You slid your phone out of your pocket as you strode down the sidewalk, deciding to catch up on everything you’d missed on social media since before Battle of the Bands last night. (...Meaning, you wanted to see if Jae had tweeted anything or posted on Instagram.)

Before pulling up Twitter, though, you plugged in your headphones and shuffled your Day6 playlist on YouTube.

Since they hadn’t released any recorded music yet, you had to make do with the videos they posted on their YouTube channel. It was much better than nothing, and by now, you were pretty sure you accounted for more than half of their views!

Once the smooth guitar of “Out of My Mind” began to play, you let out a soft sigh of contentment and took a sip of your latte.

Could summer be off to any more of a perfect start?

Well... yes. 

If Day6 had won last night, that would’ve made things truly perfect.

But that hadn’t happened, so what else can you do?

You bobbed your head along to the music as you scrolled through Twitter, holding yourself back from singing along out loud since you were in public and all. 

A couple of tweets from Jae showed up on your timeline, so you obviously liked them.

And... you were really tempted to reply back to the one about Battle of the Bands.

...Would today be the day you plucked up the courage to actually say something to him?

I mean, say something online.

You took a deep breath, clicking on his tweet... letting your thumb hover over the ‘Reply’ button...

Oh, god.

Should you?

I mean... why not? He would appreciate the support, right?!

Definitely!

So you clicked ‘Reply’ and your phone’s keyboard popped up and you started typing and then you noticed a shadow on the sidewalk in front of you and you quickly looked up but you weren’t quick enough and you knocked right into whoever it was.

“Ooph!” you groaned as your cheek hit the person’s shoulder. You immediately stopped walking, holding your latte out to the side so you wouldn’t spill any of it. 

And then you looked up.

It took a second to realize who it was, but your eyes widened slightly when you did.

...It was him.

Oh... oh my god.

OH MY GOD.

It was Jae in all his glory. Red hat, pink shirt, glasses, plush lips, blonde hair - all of it.

(Red hat and pink shirt, though? Interesting color combination seeing as it was summer, not Valentine’s Day.)

You quickly stopped your music and reached up to yank one of your earbuds out.

“I am so sorry!” you breathed, sounding just as shy as you felt right now.

“Oh, no, it’s --” Jae had been holding out a camera, and he shifted his gaze from his lens to your face.

And, just like yours had, his eyes widened slightly. But they also looked... unfocused somehow?

“No, it’s my -- my fault --” he stammered, his eyes frantically searching you.

...Why was he frantically searching you?

And... why was his hat changing colors?

It had just been red a second ago, but now it was... you honestly weren’t sure what color that was, you’d never seen it before in your life.

Maybe a huge cloud was up in the sky, casting a shadow or something.

“Are you all right?” you asked a bit timidly since Jae wasn’t really saying anything else.

Jae shook his head slightly, blinking furiously and taking a step back. “Ye -- yeah, I just... something’s... I don’t know what’s happening.”

You also took a step back because, as Jae was talking and looking at you...

Okay, you weren’t going to believe this.

His... eyes? And teeth? Were... changing color? Just like his hat?

What?!

They were now bright and shining and sharply contrasted against the rest of his face and you had no idea what was going on.

Hold on, though. Hadn’t Jae just said ‘I don’t know what’s happening’? So he was experiencing something weird, too?

“Wait, what’s happening to you?” you asked, your heart racing with panic.

“I --”

You noticed his hat again, and now you were sure it was definitely a different color. And your mind was too overwhelmed to comprehend what was going on, so you interrupted him and blurted out the first thing which came to your mind: “I’m sorry, what color is your hat?”

Jae’s hand immediately flew up to his head, resting on top of his hat.

“Black,” he answered. His eyes flitted upward, and he exhaled sharply. “I mean, they all told me it was black, and that’s what I saw, and yes. It’s definitely black.”

“...Black? But... it was just -- I thought it was red, and your -- your eyes and teeth and -- it was red. Black? What do you mean?”

To your surprise, Jae responded to your question by letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“Okay, so, something’s happening to you, too?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

You glanced around, trying to see if anything else had changed color, but nothing caught your eye.

“I have no idea,” you answered with a shake of your head. “All I know is your hat was definitely red but now it’s not.”

Jae stood there for a second, obviously thinking about something... and then he grabbed hold of your arm, leading you over to a nearby bench. Once you sat down, he slid in next to you, angling to face you.

“My hat was never red,” he began. “But listen -- just hear me out, okay?”

You nodded.

Because what else were you going to do?! Something really, really weird was happening, and Jae was sitting next to you actually talking to you and oh my god.

So, yes. You would listen.

Jae took a deep breath, biting his lower lip momentarily.

God, his lips were even more luscious up close.

“Okay, so, my whole life -- my whole life -- everything has been basically the same three colors. I guess it’s always been black and white and gray. I don’t know, it’s been really hard to figure things out because no one else can see what I see. I would always hear about all these colors and how beautiful things were, but I never understood. The doctors said I was just colorblind. I’ve never been able to drive anywhere alone because I can’t tell what color the stoplight is, and I have to ask someone if my outfit is color-coordinated because everything looks the same, and I can’t just leave the house looking like a fool, you know?”

You nodded even though you were fairly sure it was a rhetorical question.

“I mean, I know I look good in every color no matter what, but I don’t want to go out wearing neon yellow and brown! But when I bumped into you just now...” He looked down at his shirt and pinched the fabric in-between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out slightly. “What color is this?”

“Pink,” you told him.

“Pink! This morning, it was not this color. I mean, Brian told me it was pink, but this is not the color I saw. ...But now I see pink.”

You furrowed your brow, trying to make sense of all this. “So... your shirt changed color for you, and your hat changed color for me...” you murmured with extreme confusion. “...What is going on?”

“I have no idea!” he laughed. “All I know is, just a minute ago, I still saw everything in the same three colors. And now... I don’t know, man.”

He gazed around, his eyes shining as he took in the scenery around you.

And then, suddenly, he let out a little gasp.

“Wait -- wait a minute.” He turned toward you even more, and your heart began to race even more. “You said -- could you not see black before?”

You shook your head quickly. “I kept getting confused in school when they were teaching us colors because black always looked different. It looked like another color -- purple or green or blue or red. The same goes for white and gray. I never knew -- the ophthalmologist said I must just have some unknown eye disease where I couldn’t process those colors...” You pointed at his hat. “You’re saying that’s black?”

Jae nodded.

“And what about your teeth?”

“White. Pearly white, to be exact,” he answered with a little smirk.

Your eyes searched around some more, landing on the camera he was holding in his lap. It was the same color as his hat, so you nodded toward it and said, “That’s black, too?”

“Yep.”

Okay. None of this made sense.

“Why... why am I suddenly seeing black and pearly white, and you’re suddenly seeing colors?” you asked, still staring at his camera. Because if you stared at him, you probably wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“I don’t kn --” 

Jae cut himself off, and the sudden, unexpected silence forced you to look up at him.

...Yep. You were right. You kind of weren’t able to breathe.

But it’s cool. It’s all good. No big. Who needs to breathe, anyway?

“What?” you asked softly, wondering why he had stopped talking.

Jae’s lips parted, his eyes widened. He obviously thought he had figured something out, and his head jerked to stare right into your eyes.

“Wait a second,” he breathed. “I think -- what... what if this is our soulmate thing?”

A strangled laugh escaped from your throat because what in the world?!

“Soulmate?” you repeated, somewhat dumbfounded.

“Yeah! With my parents, their names showed up as tattoos on each other’s arm the year they met, so I figured that’s what would happen to me,” Jae explained. “I was just waiting for the right time. But... but what if that’s not my thing? What if my whole colorblind thing had to do with -- with meeting you?”

Okay, you thought you couldn’t breathe before when you were looking at him. But now he was talking about soulmates. Insinuating that you were his soulmate.

How were you still alive?!

“What about your parents? What was their thing?” he asked, his brow furrowed in curiosity as he gazed at you intently.

“They could hear each other’s voice in their thoughts,” you told him. “I could only hear my own voice, so I just figured... I didn’t have a soulmate.”

“So, I couldn’t see colors. You could only see colors,” Jae said quickly. “But after bumping into each other, we can both see everything. Isn’t that -- I mean, don’t you think that’s weird?!”

Well, now that he put it like that, it did seem like it was more than a coincidence.

There was just one problem.

“But I’ve seen you plenty of times,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks begin to flush. “I -- I mean, I know your band. I’ve been to a ton of your shows. I just saw you last night!”

Jae froze for a second but then a smirk slowly began to form on his lips. “You know who I am?”

You nodded bashfully.

“Wow,” he said, sounding very smug -- and yet still humble. “Thank you for supporting us, I really appreciate it. And don’t worry about last night. We’re already preparing for next year. That’s why I was filming. I want to document our year-long process of turning over a new leaf and actually winning next year. Post them on YouTube and stuff --”

Ahhh! What?! He was vlogging?! For a whole year?! Oh, god, you would have so much to look forward to!

“But that’s not the point,” he said, breaking into your thoughts. “The point is, maybe you’ve seen me, but we never actually met until just now. And that’s the point of this soulmate thing. You have to meet them.”

...Okay, well, he did have a point.

So... was Jae your soulmate?

Was actual Jae, the guy you’d had a crush on from the band you’d fallen in love with, your actual soulmate?

Were you about to live out a fangirl’s fantasy right now?

“I’m Jae,” he said, holding his hand out toward you.

You timidly took hold of it, shaking it and pulling your lips into a little grin. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I see you already have your coffee this morning, but if you’re not busy, would you mind accompanying me to the cafe?”

Okay.

So.

Actual Jae, the guy you’d had a crush on from the band you’d fallen in love with, was asking you to go with him to the cafe. A coffee date.

Jae was asking you on a date.

“Sure,” you nodded.

He stood from the bench, smiling at you and gesturing for you to begin walking first.

And then he got out his camera and began filming again.

“Sorry about that,” he said before shifting the camera to get you in the frame. “I just literally bumped into someone, and something really weird happened... but we’ll talk about that later. Anyway, the fact is, I found a new friend, and we’re going to get coffee. Let’s get it!”

You let out a soft chuckle, glancing over at Jae and trying to keep from smirking or smiling or something which would give away the fact you were over the moon about being in his presence. 

You still didn’t know for sure if he was your true soulmate (though it seemed possible, and you were honestly crossing your fingers he was because oh my god how amazing and squeal-worthy would that be?!), but... you were more than willing to spend your summer figuring it out.

Sungjin (Fall), Young K (Winter), Wonpil (Spring), Dowoon (Summer Finale)

#day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #day6 au #day6 fluff #day6 fanfic #day6 soulmate au #jae scenarios #jae imagines #jae au #jae fluff #jae fanfic #jae soulmate au #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop soulmate au #day6 #jae #jae day6

[rogsclogs]

The Great Pretender (Ben Hardy x Reader); Part 3

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader 

Summary: Y/N breaks down after being strong for so long around Ben, and he finally finds the strength to go up to her and apologize (this is NOT the end of the series)

Warning(s): mention of anxiety, a lot of fluff (so much fluff oh my god)  

Words: around 1200

Taglist: @sherlokiantheatrenerd @discodeacygotmorerhythm @ma-ntequilla (if anyone else wants to be tagged in the next parts, just message me)

If you still haven’t read Part 1 and 2, just look up The Great Pretender in my tags. Enjoy! Feedback is always welcome.

She felt her heart beat loud and clear in her chest, so loud, in fact, that she thought it would burst out of her chest any minute, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the burns on her skin or the ones on her pride. She stripped off her shirt and tried to wash away the remains of coffee from her pale chest, but the only thing that was washing away effectively was her sanity. She could feel herself slowly spiral out of control as her anxiety took over her consciousness. What had she done to deserve this? Why wasn’t she able to keep a normal relationship with her coworkers? Was this the reason why she couldn’t get many jobs in the industry? Everything was her fault at the end of the day, she was ruining the career she’d worked so hard to obtain and it was all because of her shitty personality-

“Y/N please, let me in” she heard Ben say from right outside the door. His voice was laced with guilt and regret, but she couldn’t really tell, too absorbed in self commiseration to pay attention to her surroundings. In fact, if he had spoken any quieter she probably wouldn’t have heard him at all.

“Uhm, g-give me a minute I’ll.. uh..... I’ll be right back on set, just..” She hurriedly walked around the bathroom trying to recollect herself and stop the flood of tears that kept coming out of her eyes, but without much success. The shakiness of her voice didn’t go unnoticed by Ben, who felt himself grow worried.

“Y/N, love, please let me in, I gotta make sure you’re alright and I know it sounds crazy coming from me, but just know that I’m very sorry and I need to make it up to you. I mean well this time, I promise. Just... unlock the door for me, beautiful, please”.

His words didn’t fully register in her brain, but she still felt herself tiredly unlock the door. She was clearly out of it, only wearing a bra and with her makeup all over the place, had it been any other time she would have never let anyone in, but he was offering some kind of comfort and she was craving it. As soon as he was in front of her, whatever was left of his ego completely crumbled and he realized just how much damage he’d done. It really was never his intention to ruin her like that. He embraced her in his arms and gently pushed her back so he could shut the door behind them and not be disturbed by anyone else who might walk by and see her like that. He let her cry in his chest for a while, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and slowly rocking her body back and forth in a comforting manner, remembering that’s what his mother would do with him when he was feeling down.

“I’m sorry... you have to see me like this” she let out after a while as he kept her close and lovingly stroked her messy hair.

“No please, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, really. I’m so ashamed of what I’ve done and said to you, I hope one day you find it in you to forgive me.”

She only started crying harder at his words, because really it hadn’t even crossed her mind for a minute that she’d ever have to forgive him, he was already forgiven in her heart, no matter how wrong that was.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re okay now, I promise. Listen, why don’t you let me take you home? I can ask Bryan to give you the day off, I’m sure he’ll understand”.

She knew it was very unprofessional to ask for a day off in the middle of filming because of something so foolish and personal, and quite frankly she didn’t want to, but at the same time her head was pounding so badly and all she wanted to do was rest, so she just nodded while still keeping her head in the crook of Ben’s neck and her arms wrapped around his torso. 

“You’re gonna have to let go of me for a minute though, love” he tried to joke, but there really wasn’t much humor in his guilt laced voice. Nonetheless she obeyed and unwrapped herself from around him, allowing him to get a good look at her face and body. Her skin was reddened, probably from the hot beverage that had been spilled on it, her face was stained with tears and she was shaking, both from the cold of the bare bathroom and from the wave of anxiety that had struck her moments before. 

She was a mess but she still looked so gracefully beautiful to him, and he wondered how he could have harmed such a sweet creature like herself. He carefully reached for a towel and wetted it with warm water, then ran it over her upper chest, trying to get rid of the stickiness left from before.

“I’m gonna go talk to Bryan now, just wait here for me, okay?” He felt like he was talking to a child, his tone being overly calm and kind, but she looked extremely distressed and he didn’t know how to act around her very well, so he just went with it.

She nodded and went to put her shirt back on, but was quickly stopped by a gentle hand.

“I have a spare shirt that you can wear, I’m sure that one doesn’t feel too comfortable any longer”.

For a minute he swore he’d caught a glimpse of a smile starting to form on her face and his heart swelled with joy and admiration for the woman in front of him, the same one he used to admire many years before when he was still just a young boy and she was a successful actress who seemed unreachable and unobtainable to him. The same face that was printed on one of his posters in his childhood bedroom was now staring right at him in real life and he wished he’d never been so horrible to her.

She was his Y/N after all, that same Y/N in all of his favorite movies from years ago, the same Y/N he used to worship like the goddess she was during his teen years. He realized she hadn’t changed that much and was still just as beautiful as ever and just as deserving of his admiration. 

More now than ever before, actually. Not only was she extremely beautiful, but she’d proven to him that she could be kind, selfless and generous with anyone, no matter what, and that made her even more gorgeous and him even more unworthy of her kindness.

As he left the room to get her a shirt and talk to Bryan, Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful that he was around, no matter how cruel he’d been to her in the beginning. He must have had a reason, she would definitely question him about it later. 

“Y/N, love, I’m driving you home” he said as he came back and handed her his oversized t-shirt.

She put it on and immediately felt comfort as his smell took over her, making a small smile appear and brighten up the features of her pretty face.

He swore he would have married her right then and there, then he laced their fingers together and led her to his car. 

#the great pretender #fanfiction #ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #queen fandom #queen x reader #queen imagines #bohemian rhapsody #BoRhap #borhap boys #fanfic

[vintagediavolo]

Chamomile Tea and Chocolate Cake

I wrote this short Gramander fic on a whim. It’s not my best work, but I still enjoy this cute little story. I’d be happy to start taking prompts if you all find me worthy :)

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Percival Graves bustled down the main hallway of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of MACUSA, jaw ticking irritably at the bustle of workers around him that seemed to be doing no good. The memo airplanes that circled around the crown of his head did nothing to improve this mood; on the contrary, he had to restrain the urge to raise a hand and rip all of them to shreds even though he knew they were probably important. None of his Aurors dare made eye contact with him, instead hurriedly busying themselves with whatever they had near them so as not to face their boss’s wrath. Minding his own business and thinking about a meeting that he had to attend at noon with President Picquery, he was shocked to find himself colliding with a figure taller than him, only catching sight of the peacock blue overcoat the man was wearing before their collision. Percival thanked the lord that he hadn’t been nursing his usual cup of coffee, for the hot beverage would’ve been spilled over the both of them, burning their skin and staining their clothes. “Do watch where you’re going. You’re lucky I don’t have anything important on me right now!”

The man flinched away, his body folding in on itself as he stumbled backwards. “I’m t-terribly sorry,” was his sorry excuse of an apology and he made to move around the Director, only to be stopped by a hand tightly gripping his right forearm.

Graves made to reprimand the redhead further, only for him to hear the man sniff in a way that was most likely meant to be discrete. The way his head was turned down so he couldn’t see his face and the way his shoulders seemed to tremble proved his suspicions that this stranger he bumped into was crying. Brows furrowing with confusion—definitely not concern—he loosened his grip on the man’s arm but didn’t let go. “Are you alright, sir?”

“I-I’m fine,” he stuttered while attempting to escape again, but Graves didn’t relent and instead pulled him closer.

“Come to my office.” The man didn’t look content at the Director’s words, but he stiffly nodded at the words for they seemed more like an order than a proposition. Splaying is hand on the middle of the man’s back, Graves turned him around and guided him onward, ignoring the pitying glances that his workers seemed to be giving the man at his side. Was he really that intimidating? The way the redhead looked like he wanted to run away confirmed that yes, he was that intimidating. When they were only a few paces away from Graves’ office, a woman with bobbed black hair and a panicked expression in her shiny eyes strode up to them and planted herself in front of his office door.

“Director Graves, I apologise on behalf of Mr. Scamander’s behaviour. I can deal with him; I know you don’t have the time to deal with things like this.” Tina’s words were half-ridiculing, half-concerned, but Graves wasn’t going to give up that easily, especially after hearing the man’s surname. He had befriended a certain Theseus Scamander whilst fighting in the war, a dark-haired fellow that often spoke of his younger brother, who Graves now realised stood beside him in an emotional mess. Not only was this Mr. Scamander his friend’s brother, but he was the one to realise that someone was impersonating him even though he’d never met him before. His own Aurors never even realised that their Director had been replaced by a homicidal mad-man.

“Oh, that will be unnecessary, Miss Goldstein. I’d actually like to speak with Mr. Scamander.” Tina opened her mouth as if to argue with him, but the narrowing of his eyes made her shut it and look down.

“Alright,” she complied, moving forward so she could look Scamander in the eyes. “Come and find me after, okay?” He didn’t respond verbally, just nodding his head and watching as she begrudgingly walked away to resume working at her desk. As Graves turned the knob for the door and pushed it open, he herded the man in through it, hurrying in after him and shutting it behind him. The inside of his office was noticeably quiet compared to the department outside and Graves appreciated this, but he remembered his issue at hand when Mr. Scamander’s sniffs became more audible in the uncrowded atmosphere.

“Please sit down, Mr. Scamander. Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?” All he got in response was a shake of the head, the fringe of his hair that hung over his eyes swinging with the motion. Graves found himself longing to hear the man’s voice and he couldn’t explain the urge to engulf the man in a tight hug. Unbuttoning the buttons on his trench coat and shrugging it off his shoulders, he draped it over the back of the chair behind his desk before moving over to the couch on which his company was sat and tentatively sat next to him. “What’s got you upset?”

“I... it’s stupid. I d-didn’t wish to d-drag you into my problems.”

“What’s your name?” Shocked at the sudden change of topic, the man had to recollect himself before answering.

“Newt... My name is Newt.”

“Well Newt, I’m feeling concern for you and that’s something I hardly feel for anyone. I’d really like to help you through whatever it is you’re going through.” Astonished, Newt met his gaze and Graves felt his breath get stuck in his throat at the ocean blue colour, heart aching at the redness that rimmed them. He nearly found it amusing at how shocked Newt was. “Contrary to popular belief Newt, I do have a heart.”

“I... I wasn’t trying to make it seem like you...”

“You worry too much. Why are you upset?” He tried again, inching a bit closer and leaning his elbows on the tops of his knees.

“One of my creatures... died this morning, under my care. I should have been there to take care of him. He was only a little mooncalf and I should’ve known better than to just leave him there on his own and...” Before Newt could spiral into a full-out breakdown, Graves hushed him with a conjured cup of warm chamomile tea.

“Th-thank you,” he muttered, taking the cup from Graves’ hands, lifting the rim of it to his lips to take a long sip and trying to use the warmth that travelled down his throat and settled in his stomach to calm him. After he drained the cup in mere seconds, he placed the empty cup down on the coffee table in front of the couch with a light clink. “I’m scared to face them after what I’ve let happened. The mooncalves, that is.”

“I strongly doubt that they’ll hold a grudge on you. You’re an amazing caretaker from what I’ve heard, Newt, and I have faith you. You did save my life.”

Blushing at the sudden praise, he snapped his neck down to hide the flush that spread across his face and splotched on his neck, covering the lovely freckles that covered every inch of his milky ski- “Oh. It was—“

“Don’t you dare say nothing.” At this point in time, Graves had moved close enough to take both of Newt’s hands in his own, bending his head down so he could see Newt’s face beneath his hair. “Look at me. Alive. Because of you.” Graves thought that his close proximity would’ve made Newt cower, but he seemed to relax into his gaze, shoulders and neck settling. The man’s face was magnetic, he thought as his face moved closer to Newt’s without any conscious decision to do so. When there faces were inches part, Newt furiously blushing and Graves staring intensely at everything—the freckles, the nervous expression in his eyes, the pink tint of his skin, the way he was anxiously biting at his bottom lip— he whispered, asking the question of all questions. “Can I kiss you?” Thinking he’d get a nod of the head or a timid yes, he nearly jumped when a pair of lips was suddenly against his own in a soft caress, but his eyes closed from their shock and he leaned into the kiss. One touch-starved and the other starved emotionally, they found each other and granted what the other desired. Graves tangled his fingers into the auburn locks he so wished to feel earlier and tugged, emitting a whine from Newt that lost its way somewhere in Graves’ mouth. The older man forced the younger into a laying position on the couch so that he could situate himself above his form, running his hands down the front of his body in complete worship as he lightly nipped at the lip that Newt was biting just minutes before.

Finding himself lacking oxygen, Graves pulled away with a gasp but didn’t stay away too long, as the delicious expanse of Newt’s neck was completely exposed. He bent his head down and let his sinful tongue run across the skin, moving around until he could feel the body under his tense once he reached a certain spot. His lips joined the action and he sucked at the sensitive place above Newt’s collarbone, revelling in the breathy moans that were leaving Newt’s mouth at his actions. Fingers dug themselves into his own hair, messing up the slicked-back look he worked on that morning but he couldn’t care any less, instead focusing on working magic with his mouth to make the man under him unravel. After sucking and biting a trail of bruises from his collarbone to the area just below his jaw, Graves slammed his lips back onto Newt’s and savoured the taste that was him

He tasted like the chamomile tea he had served him and there was something in the distance that spoke of some type of chocolate, perhaps from a breakfast pastry or a piece of cake (Graves could admit, embarrassed, to having a more-than-generous slice of chocolate cake for breakfast on more than one occasion, but that was something he kept to himself). When he pulled away the second time, he admired the way Newt’s lips were swollen and the blush from earlier had seemed to fixate itself upon his cheeks, intent on not going away. Blue met grey and Newt gave Graves a shy smile, unable to keep the contact for long as he averted his eyes, blush darkening and sweat forming on his temples. “Do you believe me now?” Graves asked, returning the shy smile even though Newt wasn’t looking at him.

“Would you even let me say no?” In response, the Director planted a firm kiss on Newt’s lips and nuzzled himself into his neck, admiring the love-bites that now adorned the area, squeezing his arms around Newt’s middle.

“Absolutely not.” Settling into silence, Newt let his arms rest around the man laying on his chest, watching as the man seemed to relax into his embrace with heart nearly bursting at the sight. The Director wasn’t some evil dictator that barked orders to everyone, Newt later decided; he was just an angsty kitten that wasn’t getting the attention it secretly wanted. They fell asleep, Graves uncaring of the work he needed to do and Newt feeling better enough to drift off with him.

If Madame President found them in this position later on because of Graves’ absence from her meeting, she said nothing. She was just pleased her Director finally looked happy.

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Hope you enjoyed!

Love, BelovedBey

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #newt scamander #newt #scamander #percival graves #percival #graves #gramander #oneshot #gay ships

[totallyrhettro]

Ravenvale, Chapter 6

Word Count: 2265 Rating: This chapter: general; overall story: explicit Warnings: None Summary: On their way home from another case, Agent Seaborne and Agent Roach find themselves in the strange, fog-covered town of Ravenvale. Notes: Seaborne and Roach AU where, years after the events seen in the YouTube series, they manage to become FBI agents.

Also available on ao3

First Chapter Previous Chapter

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Roach was a bit dumbfounded at the news the librarian had just given him, to say the least. Not quite shocked, but more than a little confused as to why anyone would lie about having an uncle. Then again, this gentleman was behaving rather strangely. Maybe he was mistaken; perhaps he wasn’t all there, in a manner of speaking. After a second or two the stranger seemed to forget his own surprise and went back to looking over the FBI agent before him. Roach cleared his throat.

“Anyway, I was told that you knew something about, uh…. little people? In the fog?” Instead of answering, ‘uncle’ began investigating Roach’s suit, feeling the fabric and turning over what he could to get a better look. “Mr…?”

“Deneir,” the stranger filled in, not looking up from Roach’s seemingly interesting tie. He turned over a lapel, revealing the inner pocket, and before Roach could stop him, pulled out a wallet.

“Hey!” Roach tried to grab it back but Mr. Deneir was quick, stepping out of reach before opening up the wallet and looking inside. Roach’s badge was unmistakable and Mr. Denier's eyes widened at the sight.

“FBI?” he asked, actually looking at Roach this time. Roach nodded, stepping closer in the hopes that Mr. Deneir would now give back the wallet. “You’re investigating Ravenvale?”

“Uh, yes,” Roach lied. His hopes that now this strange man would finally answers some questions raised slightly. “My partner and I just arrived today. What can you tell me about what’s going on?” Deneir’s eyes shone with excitement and a grin appeared on his face as he placed the walled on the counter, ignoring Roach’s outstretched hand. He scurried back into the next room, leaving the FBI agent rather confused. Snatching up his wallet and tucking it away, Roach rushed to catch up.

The library was decently sized, with rows and rows of bookcases filling most of the main floor. A mezzanine level overlooked the open space with shorter shelves, tables and computers set up as well. The entire place was certainly set up to be a library, but as Roach stepped into the room he noticed that something was amiss. Dozens if not hundreds of books lie scattered across the floor, littering between the shelves and isles with no rhyme or reason for how they’d been toss about. Deneir moved about them, quickly but delicately, looking for something in particular. Finally he grabbed up the only open book and made his way back to the rather dumbfounded agent.

“I’ve been doing research-” he began with a strong tone of detachedness. Roach couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle.

“I can see that.” He did his best to avoid the piles and piles of books in order to reach over and take the offered one. The page was opened to two pages lined with very small text and an artistic rendering of a very familiar figure. “The tiny woman,” he whispered. It was obviously hand-drawn, and there was zero sense of scale, but the form was unmistakable. Deneir nodded enthusiastically, tapping the image a few times for emphasis.

“They live in the mist,” he explained. “You’ve seen them?” Roach nodded, not looking away from the drawing for a moment. “Everyone says I’m crazy, but I know… I know the truth. I’ve seen them, too.” His curiosity peaked, Roach couldn’t help but smile himself. He hoped that finally, at long last, he’d found something real. Something that couldn’t be explained by science or reason. Something… alien.

“What are they?” His hopes hadn’t been this high since the Navy reported unusual sightings off the coast of Florida back in 2015. Those hopes were a bit lowered when Deneir answered his question.

“Leirans,” he stated. “Fey, fairies, sprites,” he continued. Each word make Roach’s hope fade further. Fey? Fairies? As in, mythical creatures?

“So…” he began, still clinging to the last shred of hope in his heart. “N-not aliens?” Deneir shook his head vigorously before answering.

“Nope.” Roach’s face fell. “Leirans. Much worse.” Deneir stepped away, bending down to sift through his massive pile of books, obviously looking for something else. “They worship the Lady of the Mist.” He looked up, briefly, to add: “Get it?”

“Right,” Roach agreed, absentmindedly. He looked back to the drawing, trying to decide if this was indeed what he had seen in the fog. “Mist.” He had so hoped he had finally discovered proof of aliens. Still, it wasn’t a total loss. Fairies weren’t aliens, but they weren’t human either. They weren’t Bigfoot, or the Chupacabra, but they were mythical. Roach wanted to- needed to know more. “What do they want?”

Deneir didn’t seem to hear him as he scoured the massive inventory before him, trying to find some elusive book, so Roach repeated the question louder. Eventually Deneir looked up, his eyes slightly glazed over as he took in the sight of the tall man who was speaking to him.

“The book- the book!” he exclaimed. “Just read the book. I’m reading.” He was, in fact, not reading but still looking for whatever book he probably wanted to read, but Roach took his advice anyway.

“Fairy, also known as Fey, Fairfolk or sprites,” he read aloud. “Are mythical beings from Europeon folklore. They are a form of spirit, often described as metaphysical, supernatural, or preternatural.” He paused, thinking about this. “Preternatural… like demons? Witches?” Deneir, of course, didn’t answer. Roach read on. “While their true form is unknown, they often appear as humanoid, small in stature, with magical powers, and a penchant for trickery.”

“Tricksters!” Deneir suddenly shouted from across the room. Roach looked up, expecting more, but Deneir wasn’t even looking up.

“A common feature of the fairies is the use of magic to disguise appearance,” the passage continued. “Fairy gold is notoriously unreliable, appearing as gold when paid but soon thereafter revealing itself to be leaves, gorse blossoms, gingerbread cakes, or a variety of other comparatively worthless things.”

“Fake gold, fake treasures, fake, fake, fake…” By now Roach had learned to ignore Deneir’s random bouts of input and moved on to the next paragraph.

“While they rarely interact with humans, more playful fey have been known to play tricks on people.” So far Roach didn’t see any proof that the woman he’d seen was playing a trick. Unless… “Do you think fairies are causing the fog?” At last Deneir paused a few moments before looking up, realization crossing his face.

“Yes!” he shouted, making Roach jump from the volume. Deneir pointed at him, his eyes wide and crazy. “Yes, that’s it!” Bending down he snatched up what had to be the first book he saw, opened it up to a random page and began to read. “Lady of the Mists, The Guardian of Liars, Maiden of the Mist…”

“A fairy queen?” Roach guessed, trying to carefully walk around the books to get to him.

“Leira!” Even though Roach was almost standing next to him, Denier’s shout was no more quiet than before. “Mother of Illusionists, The Mistshadow.” Finally, Roach reached him, but just as he was about to look at the book the man was holding, Deneir snap it shut and tossed it behind him in one fluid motion. “Not a queen,” he answered. “But she’s dead. She’s dead?” He repeated the words as if he had confused himself. “She’s dead, she died…” He continued to ramble as he went back to searching and Roach found that’d he’d had enough. Maybe he could come back when Deneir was more calm, or when Seaborne could come with him. Until then, he wanted to show Seaborne this book and tell him what he had seen.

Until then, he had a book to read.

~ ~ ~

Seaborne was alone at the diner, staring into a cup of fresh coffee, decaf this time, when his partner came in looking for him. He was deep in thought, thinking about the dream he’d just had, trying to decide if he wanted to have it again, and didn’t hear when Roach started speaking.

“You awake, Seaborne?” the taller man was asking.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry.” Seaborne took a deep breath and stretched his back. “Guess I’m still a little groggy from my nap.”

“That good, huh?” Roach mused casually as he looked for the waitress. Seaborne hid a smile behind a sip of his coffee and gave a non-committal ‘Mmm’ noise. Not really interested in the answer, Roach moved on to something much more important than hearing about how his partner’s nap went. After ordering his own beverage, Roach placed the book that Deneir had given him, on the center of the table.

“What’s this?” Instead of answering Seaborne’s question, Roach opened to the bookmarked page showing the entry he’d read earlier. Seaborne read the headline out loud. “Fairy. Not your usual research.”

“Deneir- uh... the, um, librarian, gave it to me.” He pointed at the image that dominated the page. “This is the woman I saw. The uh, thing, I saw in the fog.”

“I see. Still convinced you saw a fairy?” Seaborne asked, trying to understand what Roach was telling him.

“No, I did see it.” Roach paused, concerned that he wasn’t explaining himself correctly. “I mean, I saw this. This is what I saw dancing in the fog.” He tapped the book for emphasis. With a sigh, Seaborne set his coffee aside and slide the book closer to him. He turned it around to read the text. Roach watched as his friend’s eyes scanned over the pages, reading the text that he himself had read not long ago.

“Fairy tricksters are often drawn to the unconscious desires of humans,” he read aloud. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Roach admitted. “But this is definitely what I saw. Deneir also called them Leirans. I think they might have something to do with the fog-” Seaborne interrupted his partner’s thought by pushing the book back towards him.

“Are all the entries in that book this bizarre?” he asked with a grin. Roach glanced around before learning forward and shoving the book right back.

“That’s just it,” he whispered. “It’s the only entry in the book.” As he said this, he turned the page of the book revealing a completely blank page. Over and over he turned pages, each one just as blank, and Seaborne finally took notice. That was odd indeed, to say the least.

“Weird book,” he commented, taking it in his hands now to check the rest of the pages. It didn’t take long to find out that Roach was right: there was just the one entry. Except for the two pages on fairies, the entire book was blank. “You said the librarian gave you this?”

“Yeah… he was a bit odd, to be honest.” Sitting up straight he sent his partner a look to be quiet as the waitress came over with another coffee. Roach thanked her briefly, waiting until she left again before continuing. “He said he didn’t have a niece,” he stated firmly, raising his eyebrows as if he made a very important addition. Seaborne just looked at him, confused, before shaking his head.

“Well,” he sighed. “That is weird.” Sipping his coffee, Seaborne sat back in his chair and stared out the window at the damned fog that was still thick as ever. Roach waiting for his partner to say more but it quickly became obvious that Seaborne was done talking.

“I think we should inves-”

“Uh, uh.” Seaborne nearly spit out his coffee as he turned down Roach’s idea before he could even finish the thought. “No way. You’re not pulling me into another wild goose chase before I’ve had a break from the last one.”

“But you just said it yourself; it’s weird.” Giving his partner his bet puppy-dog eyes, Roach hoped it would work as it had many times before. This time however, Seaborne was far too sick of this town to fall for anything of the sort.

“Yes,” he admitted. “It’s weird. The people are weird, the town is weird, lots of things are weird BUT! I. Don’t. Care. I want to go home. I want to sleep in my own bed, use my own shower, and eat my cereal in my own house. After that you can tell me everything you think you’ve figured out about this horrible town to your heart’s content. Until then, I just want to go home. Okay?” Thoroughly downtrodden, Roach didn’t argue but slumped in his chair, defeated. He didn’t answer; he didn’t have to. Seaborne had won and that was that.

The two of them sat in silence as Seaborne finished his drink. Roach looked out the window at the fog, the small hope that the fairy lady might reappear, heavy on his heart. He placed his large hands flat on the table, slowly rubbing the tips of his thumbs together, mindlessly. Seaborne couldn’t help but stare at those hands… wondering…

“What is it?” Roach asked, upon catching Seaborne staring. Immediately the shorter man looked somewhere else.

“Nothing,” he lied. After a few more seconds of quiet, Roach couldn’t take it any longer. He grabbed up the book and got to his feet. “What are you going?”

“You may not want to investigate,” he explained. “But I do.” He was halfway to the door before Seaborne could respond.

“What’s the point?” he explained. “We’re leaving tomorrow.” Roach didn’t listen. “What about supper?” Seaborne added, yelling this time, but his partner was already gone. Grumbling to himself, he waved down the waitress. Maybe some food would cheer him up.

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

Next Chapter More Fics

#rhett #link #rhink #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ravenvale #seaborne and roach

[holyhikari]

The Wayne-Todd Literary and Tea Society

In which Damian and Jason bond over books and complicated feelings.

Batman (Comics) one-shot. Characters: Damian Wayne & Jason Todd.

Word count:  2695. For General Audiences. No pairings. 

Read on Ao3:  The Wayne-Todd Literary and Tea Society by Beatriz Caelum

When Damian sees Jason Todd, he is always tempted to ask a few questions.

You see, differently from most, what he wishes to say usually isn’t about the killing that happens when Jason puts on the infamous red helmet. That he is capable of understanding. Damian didn’t use to kill for anything related to ethics  — a natural aspect of his birthright more than anything else —, as grey as morality can get in both sides of his family, but he has blood on his hands nonetheless.

There isn’t much to say about dying, either. They’ve both been there, at different times, in almost different worlds, clinging to what Bruce Wayne once meant, but Death is timeless and the same to everyone it touches. (It is life that is different. Damian woke up to love and Jason to absence.) 

Sure, there were some scattered talks about it over a rooftop or two, mostly questions, “What do you remember of it?” and  “Do you feel wrong when you breathe?”, that were met with, “I’m not sure,” and “Being alive to me has always felt somewhat unsettling,” but it wasn’t long before they realized that it was the last thing they wished to talk about, even with someone who could understand.

Good thing they can work just fine with silence.

Even though almost a full year has gone by after Damian was bought back to the unfortunate land of the living, he still catches the Red Hood looking out for him more than what is necessary whenever they happen to meet under Gotham’s night sky. It’s something he does even when they are in different sides of a fight, “not opposite sides,” Hood would say, “you know what I want for this hell of a city is the same that you want, too.”

(Damian supposes it is the same in more ways than it is not, but Father has a more abrasive opinion on the matter.)

Regardless of how many times Damian has snarled for him to stay out of his way — like a little brother would be upset rather than an acquaintance or an ally —, that he does not need the extra protection, especially not from him, the Red Hood is insistent. Merciless even about this.

Father’s face twitched when he mentioned the gesture. Drake teased, “you complain when we don’t like you, you complain when we try to help.”  Richard gave him a sad smile that Damian couldn’t shake off for days; Nightwing is also prone to reckless protection around Robin, closer to endangering himself than he would be otherwise.

It makes it harder to work. It makes it more painful to love and be loved by Richard. It makes him more sensitive to what persisted of Father’s grief. But, right now, Damian can only think of how it makes him more curious about Jason Todd  — he could write a list. How can you be so ruthless, yet so caring? How much of your idiocy is staged? How was Father before he lost you? Do you truly not realize the hole you left inside his heart?

But, most of the time, he wishes to ask him about Mother.

Damian knows they spent some time together. What of her that he knows that her own son doesn’t? He wonders, sometimes, what would have been of their weird brotherhood — if you could call it that — if Mother was to tell him about the ex-Robin’s leap into the Lazarus Pit. They could’ve met. He was very young then, but his tender age had never been an issue to the League. Perhaps, after probably trying to murder Jason for planning to hurt the Batman of all people, he would grow to admire that… unique determination.  Like he does now, although reluctantly.

However, what actually pulls the trigger and has Damian swallowing his pride has nothing to do with blood — in any sense of the word.

“What do I own the visit?”

The way Damian stiffs, full on Robin gear and with only one foot into the apartment’s window, could only be caught by someone trained under his Father. The Red Hood snorts, a sound distorted by the helmet’s voice modulator.

“I assume you let me in,” he chooses to say. “Otherwise your security methods could be compared to the skillset of a babbling infant. And that is me being polite.”

“It sure is,” Hood sits down, couch worn out and small like most of his safehouses, reaching for a mug resting on a table. The room smells like cheap coffee — the kind that offends Drake to a personal level —, but Damian suspects that this is tea. “Alfred called. Like, a few minutes ago. Said that if I let my window open I might catch a bird.”

Damian clicks his tongue, “I didn’t tell Pennyworth to inform you of my arrival.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

He presses the bag he is holding a little too forcefully to his chest. “No.”

The Red Hood hums and takes off the helmet. Then, Jason Todd blows on his drink.  “You must have noticed by now, but Alfie kinda does what he wants.”

(Damian has very much noticed.)

“Were you about to go out to do any of your nonsense?” He asks. Then, more shyly:  “I could come back another time.”

For a moment, Todd looks like he’s about to ask what Damian wants from him, but instead, he raises an eyebrow. “You don’t get to boss me. Weren’t you supposed to be getting ready to patrol now, baby bat?”

Damian frowns at the nickname. “We’re going in later tonight for a specific mission, but, for once, I am not here to discuss any crime-related activity. It is more… personal.”

“Oh, no.” He groans louder than Damian wants to hear. “Is this any kind of family meeting? I know I have been on kinda-friendly terms with most of you for a while now, but I’m not in the mood for anything personal. ”

“It is not a family meeting.”

“Whatever it is, go to Dick.”

He clears his throat. “I think it will be of your interest.”

“Surprise me, then.” Todd sighs, stretching his arms. The mug is now empty and there’s probably more where it came from, but he doesn’t offer any beverage to Damian. Rude. “Do your worst, but you know I’m badder.”

He refuses the urge to roll his eyes at the insulting use of the English language — Todd is above this! — and drops his bag’s content onto the living room table with little to no ceremony, almost pushing the mug off. Jason curses at him.

Then, nine bangs. One from each Sherlock Holmes book colliding with the wood.

Todd's expression shifts in a way that Damian knows he wishes he still had the helmet on.

“These are mine,” he draws out, slow.

“Indeed.”

“You —,” Todd narrows his eyes, the greenish blue glowing accusingly. “You stole my books?”

Damian bristles, “I am above stealing.”

“I don’t remember giving them to you,” he points out. “Or letting you borrow them.”

“They were in the Manor’s library,” he says. “With some other books that also belonged — belong to you, I believe. They had a special place just for them.”

“Wh—”

“Pennyworth.”

Todd’s shoulders are still tense, but the lines around his eyes soften at Alfred’s name. Damian can see that there’s some sort of internal struggle by the way Jason’s body carries itself in what he recognizes as the most unforgiving self-discipline; as if his fingers itch to run through the books’ covers, open them, press gently to the pages’ margins to see — to feel — if the notes he took so fervently all those years ago are still intact, but he doesn’t want to have this moment in front of Damian.

“You came here to tell me you found out Alfie is a good person,” Todd deadpans, but Damian catches the constipated emotion nonetheless. “Amazing job, Detective.”

“I came here,” he hesitates, “because I saw your notes.”

Todd wrote on all the nine volumes, a  rushed, clumsy but determined calligraphy squeezed between the edges and Arthur Conan Doyle’s words, mostly untouched with the exception of a few phrases carefully circled by Alfred where Todd had made a grammar or spelling mistake. By the end of each and every book, there’s Father’s handwriting complementing Todd’s observations and theories about the plot, the mysteries and the characters throughout the pages.

It made Damian heart’s ache when he saw it all. Younger Todd’s excited rambling about what he was reading was very, very bright. More often than not, he grasped even the more obscure clues and foreshadowings Doyle left within the narrative — a detective in making. A natural.

Damian had imagined Jason Todd as this dense, unruly kid that would only pick up a book if someone made him. Someone who worshipped senseless violence. It’s what almost everyone says. It’s what Todd himself tells people.

I was Robin. The bad one.

“And you’re here to tell me how stupid they were? How much better you were at my age?” Todd scowls, getting up a little too fast, already walking towards him. “Because I don’t want to hear any of it. Get out.”

“Thank you,” Damian blurts out before the most Al Ghul part of him shuts his mouth and before Jason pushes him out of the window. “It was a privilege to read them.”

Surprise bursts into Todd’s face and he almost loses his balance when his steps come to an abrupt stop. “What?”

“You were — I saw your other books,” he says. “You have excellent taste in Literature and your notes were filled with very pertinent insights.”  

“You’re complimenting me.”

“Yes,” Damian rolls his eyes. “It would be foolish of me not to admit it.”

Todd opens his mouth, then closes it. He repeats the action a few more times.

“You’re welcome, I guess?” He says, exasperation coloring his tone. “I wish I had a camera.”

“Only the Sherlock Holmes collection had notes on them,” Damian decides to push his look. “I checked it twice.”

Todd’s lips twitch, forming a thin line. A sort of bitterness clings to him and Damian is suddenly too aware of the fact that the boy who wrote what he read is lost to more than time itself.

“B gave me them so the deductive skills part of training wouldn’t be so boring,” he sits down again, not looking at anything specific. “He — we decided to make it a sort of game. The notes were for him. So he could see my progress.”

“We don’t do this sort of activity,” Damian finds himself saying. He swallows, hand to his throat. The words hurt to pass through.

"I'd offer you tea, but I just ran out of it."

"Next time."

Todd’s smile is tired, “You can just ask Bruce to do stuff like this with you, gremlin.”

“I suppose I could,” he mumbles. Then, louder: “There are many clean books.”

“Don’t touch my stuff,”  he snaps, but there’s no venom to it. “You hadn’t read Sherlock Holmes before?”

Damian’s back straightens. He puffs his cheeks involuntarily, “Of course I had. I wanted to re-read it. Who do you take me for? I’ve read the most celebrated literary works to date from authors all across the world!”

“To Kill a Mockingbird?” He challenges. “One Hundred Years of Solitude? Beloved? Fahrenheit 451? The Color Purple? The Left Hand of Darkness?”

“Please,” Damian scoffs. “I could’ve written an award-winning analysis on all of these when I was four.”

“What’s the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything?”

“42.”

“Impressive.”

He shoots back at Todd a list of his own and isn’t all that surprised that Jason only stops him once, “Dom Casmurro? Never heard of it.”

“It’s from Machado de Assis,” Damian for once in his life tries not to sound arrogant when explaining something. “Brilliant writer from Brazil.”

“They’ve got Clarice Lispector too,” Todd’s eyes widen in recognition. “I’ll look it up.”

“No need,” Damian waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’ll have a copy delivered to you in no time. We can discuss it later if Capitu did or did not cheat on Bentinho and why it is unclear to this day.”

“I don’t know who these people are, but I bet she didn’t and, if she did, he deserved it.”

Damian almost smiles, “Good guess.”

“Uh,” he blinks. “Are you okay, Damian?”

“Do I not seem in a good condition to you?”

“You want to spend time with me,” Todd says, pointing to himself. “With me. ”

Damian tries to mask the disappointment that creeps up on him with his usual scowl. “If you find it unpleasant and does not wish to—”

“I’m just surprised,” he interrupts. “God. Did I wake up looking like Dick Grayson and no one told me?”

“You’re not entirely impossible to be around, I’ll give you that, but you aren’t Richard either.” He smirks wolfishly. “But you do have a chance to prove to me that you can discuss art better than anyone else in our family.”

The last two words envelop the room in a heavy sort of silence. No one dares to move for far too long, and, despite the stillness of it all, despite how little effort one has to make in order to unveil the exact pace of their heartbeats and what they hide, no noise from the outside is brave enough to interrupt whatever flows between Damian and Jason in this instant.

Damian doesn’t know if Pennyworth keeping the books made him sentimental, or if the Bat Signal is shining behind him for Father, or if the way he said our family was just like Richard says it, or if something about his careful way of approaching reminds Todd of how he and Drake started sorting out their own issues, or if the act of sharing words and finding meaning in it makes Todd’s mind wander off to Cain. Damian has no idea.

But, somehow, they’re all here. With them.

And Todd could run away. He could — and he doesn’t.

His hand finally finds its way to one of the books, with such care and devotion that, if it wasn’t for the bat plastered on Todd’s chest and the gun attached to his waist, no one would believe he’s the Red Hood.

“These stories,” Todd’s voice is not above a whisper, “made me feel like I had a home when you guys couldn’t.”

Damian’s eyes burn behind Robin’s mask. “You can have more than stories now. If you wish.”

The look in Todd’s eyes carries the kind of intensity that makes people afraid to live another day. Damian waits, without as much as breathing, for something to shatter; for having to turn his back and walk out with Todd’s rejection at his trail.

Instead, “Damian Wayne wants me to join his book club.”

Stunned, he almost falters. “If you want to put it that way.”

Todd turns away to put on his helmet before Damian can get a better look at his expression, but, if there’s anything feigned about Todd’s agreement, he isn't able to see. He seems to be getting ready for the night, back turned to Damian and a serenity to his movements that wasn’t there before.

“The things I do for art,” the voice modulator makes his dramatic sigh sound like static.

“I only expect the best,” Damian warns. “I choose the books.”

“Always?” Todd protests. “But then we’ll never know in which Hogwarts house you’re in, or who is your godly parent and if you’re in Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter, if you’re Team Edward or Team Jacob, and I won’t get to see your face when Prim goes boom, or —”

Damian is almost regretting this already.  “What even is this nonsense?”

“Oh, I’ll let you know.” Todd has one foot out of the window. “This is going to be priceless.”

“I won’t read any garba—”

“See ya in the Slytherin common room!”

“Where?”

Damian still has many questions to ask, but he is already gone, of course, and Robin is completely alone in the apartment.

But nowhere near as lonely as the other times Jason walked out on a conversation.

#Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #batfamily #dc comics #batman #my writing

[littlemissmeggie]

i was tagged by @narrymybed and @narriewithane several days ago and i’m finally sitting down to do this. thank you for tagging me!

1. What is the smell of your shampoo?

i use herbal essences blue ginger because it’s one of the few shampoos that doesn’t bring me out in a rash for an hour after i shower.

2. What’s your aesthetic?

super high-waisted jeggings from american eagle with band shirts tucked in. oversized crewneck sweatshirts with button up shirts. flats and $16 knock-off keds from target. my champagne silver 2000 volkswagen cabrio. arctic monkeys’ aesthetic from suck it and see, am, and tranquility base hotel & casino. two record players and a growing record collection. record stores. gangster movies and television shows. bookshelves filled with books. my town’s library.

3. What’s your favourite time of the day?

i’ve never really had a particular time of day i prefer over any other but over the last month, i’ve really come to like the time of day after i wake up and am sitting in bed with my boyfriend while i’m reading or writing and drinking tea.

4. What do you like most about the beach?

my family used to go to rehoboth beach, delaware every summer for vacation and we spent a lot of time on the beach and the boardwalk so beaches always bring back really great memories. summer’s my favourite season so i love the warmth on the beach. i love the sounds of the waves crashing and seagulls.

5. What do you worry about constantly?

i don’t really worry about anything constantly. i worry about financial stuff occasionally. i worry about my brother and my boyfriend’s younger brother often. i sometimes worry about my car when it makes some weird sound and i start thinking it’s going to be a $1,000 repair (and it usually ends up being $150).

6. What is a song you’ve cried to before?

oh, there are a lot of songs i’ve cried to and i can’t even begin to think of all of them. i have frequently cried to the whole of the maccabees’ album given to the wild. i’ve cried to twenty one pilots’ songs neon gravestones, the city, my blood, and screen. i’ve cried many times to walking in the wind and parts of sign of the times. arctic monkeys’ the ultracheese makes me tear up. roger miller’s song one dying and a burying gets me every time.

7. What are some relaxing tips for your followers?

meditate. there are a lot of guided meditations on youtube (i especially like the mindful movement’s meditations) and apps in the app store. if you’re religious, pray and/or go to public worship ceremonies; i’m roman catholic and i go to sunday mass and it’s another way for me to meditate as we pray and listen to the readings and liturgy. drink tea, coffee, or any beverage you enjoy while reading a book, fanfiction, or any magazines or blogs about subjects that interest you. nap. listen to music if you find that calming. watch something that interests you.

8. What are some things that make you tear up?

videos and stories of people doing good, kind, selfless things for other people. the 2013 coca-cola superbowl ad with all the footage from security/cctv cameras. thinking about things that made me really happy. other things, i’m sure.

9. What is your favourite thing from each of the five senses?

Sight: sunrises and sunsets. (how cliche.) snow falling as long as i don’t have to go outside. my boyfriend. christmas decorations. beautifully plated food. flowers and green grass and summer days.  

Smell: the pavement after it rains on a hot day. lavender. any kind of pastries in the oven. book pages and new notebooks and my town library. the ocean. peonies. 

Sound: most music. rain. the church bells in the center of my town ringing every fifteen minutes. the scratchiness at the beginning and end of a record. my cats purring. the voices of my family members and my boyfriend. 

Taste: communion wafers. (i’m not kidding. it’s my favourite flavour.) curries. ginger and mint and basil. most thai noodle dishes. the traditional flavours of a lot of middle eastern and north african cuisines. yogurt. dark chocolate. teas, especially black teas, and almost always from harney & sons. peaches and apricots and plums. raspberries. i could keep going but i won’t. 

Touch: soft blankets. grass. this squishy silicone stress-reliever thing i got from a shop on etsy. my boyfriend rubbing my head. i’m not a very tactile person.

10. What is one alternative reality you’d want to be in?

i occasionally think i’d love to be in a reality where j.k. rowling’s magical world is real. i don’t even need to be a witch but i’d just love to know it exists. 

11. What are some troubles you face on a day to day basis?

i don’t really face any troubles on a day to day basis. there are little things that bother me—annoying coworkers and other silly things at work being the most common—but i try not to let anything bother me for more than ten minutes because that’s a great way to ruin an otherwise at least decent day. i suppose i should say that my severe epilepsy, chronic headaches, and migraines "trouble” me but i don’t think about them unless they’re happening. my periods of writer’s block when i’m stuck in a rut bother me.

12. What is a scene from a book that makes you really sad?

cedric’s death. sirius’ death. hedwig’s death. lupin’s death. fred’s death. even snape’s death. any scene with nino valenti in the godfather. pippi de lena’s death in the last don. 

13. Say something to your followers.

thank you all for following me. thank you to those of you who send me messages about my stories and reblog/like my posts. thank you to everyone who sends me supportive messages about everything, from my writing to my personal problems. thank you for following me. i’m sorry i’m not a better friend but thank you to those of you who try to befriend me and for putting up with my terrible social skills; please know that i consider you friends.

#meggie talks #fun tag thingy

[turnedtolead]

Lifted - Part 4

(Masterlist)

(Read it on Ao3)

"Excuse me," Loki said to Anna, throwing the sliding door to the balcony open and slamming it shut behind him.

"Brother," Thor nodded, his smile fading at Loki's obvious rage. "You look well."

"Ever heard of the front door?" Loki snapped, gesturing towards the front of the house.

"I did not know you would have company," Thor said, looking beyond Loki to the woman staring behind the glass. She smiled and waved. Thor waved politely back.

"She has no idea, about anything," Loki warned, his tone murderous. "I'd like to keep it that way."

"Heimdall sent me there," Thor said quickly, pointing to a knoll below the balcony, completely out of sight. "I am certain she saw nothing."

"Why have you come," Loki asked suspiciously, not wanting to dance around the situation for even a moment. "To gloat?"

"I was planning on visiting Jane. The Bifrost was not beyond repair after all."

"Yes, was that much not obvious to you when I was cast out?"

"You know well why you were," Thor sighed. "And as someone who has been, I came to give you a bit of advice."

"Oh, pray tell," Loki insisted sarcastically, not at all wanting the counsel of the mighty Thor.

"Do not underestimate these people, Loki. Treat them and their realm with respect."

"Luke ," he whispered through clenched teeth, nodding in the direction of the house. He knew Anna was well out of ear-shot, but he wished to exercise caution all the same.

"Luke?" Thor repeated, taking a moment before understanding what Loki was trying to get at. "Ah, yes. Luke."

Loki rolled his eyes.

"Are you not going to introduce me then?"

"No. I'm not. Get out."

"Hi," Anna said, smiling as she opened the door, carrying several mugs on a tray. "Tea?"

Loki swallowed as he watched her place the beverages on a patio table, grateful for her ignorance of his ridiculous situation.

"Anna, this is - Henry," he said, recalling the name from a famous midgardian play he had seen in the early 17th century. "My older yet not so much wiser brother."

"Lady Anna," Thor said, bowing his head.

Lady Anna. These men were a trip. They talked the same, their manners were the same, but truthfully, the two were like night and day. Thor reminded Anna of the sun - bright, cheerful, conventionally handsome. Loki was very much the night - dark and mysterious with an attractiveness and allure that was unrivaled. If you hadn't known the two were related, the notion would seem ridiculous. Still, the familial tension was painfully obvious.

"Hi Henry," she smiled, handing him a warm cup. "I hope you like Earl Grey."

"I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with him," Thor replied, shrugging as he took a sip of the tea.

Anna laughed, clearly taking his response as a joke. Loki wanted to crawl under a rock.

"Your father owns such beautiful house," she continued, trying to lighten the situation with small talk. "Will you be staying?"

"No," Loki replied quickly, crossing his arms across his chest. "He was just leaving, actually."

"If you're worried about bedrooms, I can take the couch."

"My girlfriend and I live in Tromsø. I'm not terribly far," Thor replied, grateful for her generosity. "I simply came to see if - Luke - needed my help."

"But he doesn't," Loki assured, taking an obnoxiously loud sip from his mug.

"Tromsø," Anna replied dreamily. "I love Tromsø."

"It is rather nice," Thor agreed. "Pleasant scenery. Good coffee shops. I have had a rather difficult time finding pop-tarts, however."

Anna laughed again. "Well, I think they have some strawberry ones at our market in the town center, if you're desperate."

"That is excellent information. I thank you."

"Anna, will you excuse us," Loki said suddenly, icily. The possibility of her fawning over Thor was suddenly too much for him to bear. "There are private matters I need to discuss with my brother."

"Oh," Anna said, suddenly realizing how intrusive she had been. "Sure. I'll just be unpacking inside if you need me. It was nice to meet you, Henry."

"It was very nice to meet you, Anna," Thor said with a small smile. "I hope we meet again."

Anna nodded and turned to go back in.

"She is kind," Thor said quietly.

"She is nothing more than the help," Loki insisted, shoving his hands into his pockets. He glanced back at Anna through the windows and a strong pang of guilt surged through him. He did not think of her that way. It was cruel to say - even for him.

"Loki-"

"You aren't welcome here."

"Yes, well, I am here. And Earth is under my protection."

"Your precious Earth," Loki sneered, shaking his head. "These mortals aren't fit to shine my boots."

"Perhaps it is unwise to keep midgardians as company, if you think so poorly of them."

"We're done here," Loki said, turning around to walk back into the house. Enough was enough.

"Brother -"

"That I am not," he warned, turning around once more to point his finger at Thor. "I may have failed to finish what we started on the Bifrost. But if you come here again, I will be more than happy to pick up where we left off."

"Loki, I had no idea. About you -"

"Being a frost giant? The monsters we were taught to fear and despise as children? Yes, it's a shame. Neither did I."

"I do not think of the frost giants as monsters. I only wish you felt the same."

"Goodbye, Henry," Loki said, smiling sarcastically back at Thor. "Do send mother my regards."

Thor sighed as he watched his brother stalk back into the house without a second glance back. He turned and walked back down to the knoll, making sure he was completely out of sight before he spoke his next words.

"Heimdall," he said quietly, feeling defeated. "When you are ready."

Loki and Anna both retreated to their rooms for the entirety of the afternoon. Anna had taken a long bath and proceeded to fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillows. Loki, still unable to sleep, decided it would be wise to conjure a luggage and clothing to fill his drawers, making it apparent that they had been delivered. He eventually drew his own bath and soaked for a long time, staring pensively out a large window at the snow-laden mountainscape.

Still seething about Thor's unwelcome visit, Loki reflected on their exchange. What in the nine realms was he doing letting some random mortal share his living space? After everything that had just happened - discovering his true parentage, Odin falling into the Odinsleep, becoming king in Thor's absence and sending the Destroyer to Earth, killing Laufey, attempting to destroy Jotunheim once and for all... and now his own exile. He had no business keeping the company of a mortal and he knew it. Not now, not ever.

Truthfully, he despised them. Midgardians ravaged their hapless realm, waged fruitless wars in the name of a work of fiction, glorified material possessions and left the old ways behind. Once worshiped as gods, the Aesir were now nothing more than mythologies. And what was the definition of a myth? A widely held but false belief or idea. No. Loki had no time for petty, benighted mortals.

But Anna... Anna believed. And it plagued him. Perhaps that was why he felt a protectiveness, an inexplicable sense of obligation to her. Perhaps that was what moved him to act in such an irrational manner by asking her to stay. Loki closed his eyes and splashed his face with the water, trying to will himself to come to grips with the situation. He wasn't looking forward to his time on this realm, but he had been looking forward to the solitude of it all. Maybe it was best that Anna filled her hours with cooking and cleaning. He had always lived in close quarters with maids on Asgard. This way, he could simply view her as his servant. Maybe then he could focus. Maybe then he wouldn't notice her smile so much.

After his bath, Loki dressed himself in a dark green, short-sleeved henley and grey sweatpants, proud of the midgardian wardrobe he managed to create for himself. He wandered out into the dark living room, lit only by a roaring fire and several small candles on the coffee table. Anna kneeled before them, fiddling with what looked like different colored rocks. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she wore red and white flannel pajama bottoms with a fitted white tank top and fur-lined moccasin slippers. Loki found himself staring, unsure of how anyone could make such a ridiculous style of clothing look attractive. But she did.

He coughed to make his presence known, immediately forcing himself from his dangerous thoughts.

"Hey," Anna smiled, sitting up a little straighter as he walked into the room. She found herself in continuous awe of ridiculously good-looking man standing before her, his shirt tight against his torso revealing prominent muscle lines, his dark, wet locks falling in a disarray across his bright blue eyes - a stark contrast to his flawless porcelain skin. She'd never thought of another man as beautiful, but that's exactly what he was. Breathtaking, really.

"I thought you were sleeping," she swallowed, trying to get a proper hold of herself. "Looks like your luggage came. Did Henry leave?"

"It did. And yes, he left. What's all this?" Loki asked as he walked over, looking curiously down at the array of rocks and candles on the table.

"It's, uh, my traveling altar. I ask so much from the gods sometimes. This is sort of how I say thanks."

"I see."

"This one is for Thor. Azurite," she said, holding up a crystal laden with various shades of blue. "I believe he's kind, but arrogant at times. So I use this to pray for him."

Loki took the stone she offered to curiously examine it, pleased with her opinion of him. Oh, my dear. How right you are...

"Odin gets this one. Clear quartz," she said, thrusting a larger one into Loki's hands. "For healing."

"Healing?"

"I don't think he's well. He has a lot on his plate."

Loki's brow furrowed. Indeed, Odin was not well. It was something most of Asgard knew, what with his tendency to take naps at the most inconvenient of times. But it was curious that she knew.

"You seem confident in your assumptions."

"I am," she shrugged casually, pulling a small, light pink stone from her bag. "Ah. This one is for my personal favorite."

"Who?" he said, with genuine intrigue. Oh, how he'd love to tell her of his own opinions of them all...

She placed the stone in his hand, her fingertips lingering a bit too long on his palm. He shifted. There it was again. That brilliant smile.

"Loki."

Every breath left his body the moment his name unexpectedly escaped her perfect lips. He tried to ignore the pounding in his chest as she looked up into his eyes with nothing but pure wonder and adoration, but it was overwhelming. By all means he should be flattered for he was never anyone's favorite. But this - this he felt unworthy of.

"Luke, are you alright?"  

"What is it?" he said finally, placing the stone quickly back on the table, as if it were burning him.

"Rose quartz," she said, the uneasiness in his voice not escaping her. "For heartbreak."

"Heartbreak?" he scoffed, a little too quickly, a little too incredulously.

"Yes."

"And how exactly do you know these things?"

"I - I can't explain it. I just feel it."

"You just feel it?" he replied as he narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his tone obnoxiously accusatory.

"Yes," she said firmly, not at all wanting to have to explain herself on the subject. Too many times had she been both physically and mentally persecuted for her for her beliefs. Too many times had Bjorn wrecked her altars, thrown her crystals and her candles in the trash, calling her every bad name in existence. She felt Loki's presence with everything in her. And she was exhausted from hiding it, of running from it.

"I see. And is he not the god of mischief? Of chaos, tricks and lies? Perhaps he's fooling you."

"He's just misunderstood," she said, taken aback by his knowledge of Loki as most people she encountered didn't seem to know much about him. "We all lie. We all trick. We all need chaos. We aren't meant to be stagnant."

"Perhaps you're projecting. Perhaps in your grief you've latched on to a fantasy, someone who you believe you can identify with. Someone who will... save you."

"That's reaching."

"Is it?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes down at her at his as his voice grew louder. "Forgive me, but you seem to be steady on a course of ill-luck. Perhaps you've favored the wrong god."

"That's not fair," she said angrily, not at all appreciating his disrespect. "I have a roof over my head. Food. A stranger I just happened to come across who is providing me those things."

"And was it Loki who brought you those things?"

"Yes," she asserted, her voice unwavering. "I believe it was. When I was sitting on that bench this morning I had no idea what I would do, where I would go. I held this stone in my pocket and I prayed. I felt his pain, and he felt mine. And immediately, there you were. Someone kind. Someone generous."

"You make strong assumptions about me," he said, standing to walk towards the windows, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched the snow fall heavily in the soft orange glow of the outdoor lights. "I am neither of those things."

"Well, I beg to differ," she replied, shaking her head as she went to stand beside him. "You said it yourself back at the cafe. I know you. I don't, of course. But I know that you're good and that your heart is-"

"Very much in tact."

"Right," Anna said, curiously looking up at him to find his eyes burning into hers in the glow of the firelight. There was a vulnerability in them, a disturbance, a vexation. She felt herself inexplicably wanting to touch him, to comfort him. Something she had said clearly resonated, clearly hurt him, and she was regretful of that fact.

Loki looked down at her, wanting to snap, wanting to let loose. Heartbreak? The girl didn't know the meaning of the word. But in her eyes was where he found the calm, the solace he so desperately needed. Who was he to make her feel small about what she believed in? He knew the truth, of course. That she worshiped a nobody - a desperate, lost soul. It was a lie he loathed. It didn't feel right.

"Luke. If this is too much, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed that this was okay to do here. I thought you were out for the night. I thought -"

"In the future I'll thank you to keep this," he said, gesturing back to her altar. "Confined to your chambers."

"I understand," she said, relieved that he didn't seem to be getting any angrier. It was important for her to pray, to be close to her gods. But she was also a guest in his space and the living room might not have been the best choice, even if she thought he was out for the night. She didn't appreciate him coming for her beliefs, but she had been naive to assume he would be tolerant of them. Many, many people were not.

Loki nodded and sighed, his expression gradually changing from one of anger to that of pure exhaustion. As angry as he was, with his family, his situation, himself, he knew none of it was her doing. If anything, she had mostly kept his mind off of his troubles, and for that alone he was grateful.

"You must be starving," she said suddenly, the notion just dawning on her. "I don't think I've seen you eat all day."

"I'm fine," he said quietly, running his hair through his locks exasperatedly.

"It's been a long day, for both of us. Maybe you're just hangry."

"Hangry?"

"Angry because you're hungry," she chuckled. "You haven't heard that before?"

"I am not hangry."

"Come on," she said, gesturing towards the kitchen as she pulled her hair down from her bun. "I'll go to the market in the morning. But with what we have now I think I can make a pretty mean grilled cheese."

Loki hesitantly followed her. He sat down on a stool at the island, completely mystified by this short, petite thing rifling through a mess of pots and pans before him. This day had certainly been a strange one. He knew well that he would never deserve this girl's attention, her thoughts, her prayers, her anything. But he knew then, looking at her laughing with a piece of butter caught in her long, fiery locks, that if she wished for his protection or his help... she would have it.

She would undoubtedly have it.

#loki #loki x ofc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

[thetr1ckster]

Kiss My Tears Away, Chapter 12

#Trevor Philips #gta v #trevor philips x reader #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #mine #writings #let me know what you think #reviews mean so much to me

[setsunanoroi]

DVa76week day 1

Prompt: Snow

 Hana was sure that most people her age probably loved winter. It was, after all, a very fun time of year. People her age were often out playing, building snowmen or throwing themselves around in the fluffy ground, pelting others with snowballs or making forts to hide behind in their little wars. It was the last little bit of childhood some clung to, memories recalled from a time when teenagers were much younger and didn't have so much to worry about.

 It wasn't like she hated the snow. The weather was nice in its own way. She could appreciate the look of the first snowfall when everything was fresh and white, rounded out and pretty, even glistening in the sun. She certainly liked the feel of the cold nipping at your skin and the simple pleasure of warmth one got by sipping at a hot drink to chase it away. One never appreciated coffee quite so much as when it was chilly outside. There was even a small part of her that still liked to wait around a corner with snowball in hand and chuck it at someone. Well, okay a large part of her still liked that.

 Yet she still didn't like winter much. Besides the novelty, it wore on her pretty quickly. The joy of it never lasted long and in the end it felt more like just trying to cling to the good things about the weather while ignoring the huge pile of things that were awful about it.

 Sadly, when it came to a list of pros and cons, the cons on snow and winter far outweighed the previous. The first look of snow was pretty but then it turned into ugly slush, and ice you could slip on and fall. She always had to bundle up in bulky clothing to keep warm when she was outside and the second she came back in she started to sweat immediately, feeling gross before she could even get all the stupid layers off. It led to having to shovel excess out of the way and wait for it to melt away, hopefully before another wave of snow came and restarted the whole painful process. Worst of all, it always, always, always messed up the internet connection.

 Right now snow was piling up pretty badly outside, clinging to just about every satellite on the base. It had been pretty annoying all day, cutting off communications and signals for a while. Russia was not exactly her idea of a prime candidate for a vacation spot, and she would have been raging if not for the fact she was there for work. A recent break in by Talon had gotten the government all up in arms, and Overwatch was currently offering help in the investigation as well as in security details.

 However, it was her off day for now and she'd planned to relax by getting on a computer and grinding some levels out on one of her games only to realize she was pretty much screwed in that regard. Even her phone was being a pain about it, only on one bar of signal. It had left her with nothing to do and so she'd ended up sitting out in the large living area and sulking.

 “Buck up, soldier. It could be worse,” a gruff voice on the opposite couch said to her. She looked up at Jack Morrison, codename Soldier 76. A criminal to some, vigilante to others. News had painted him as dangerous and violent, someone to be avoided at all cost.

 He didn't look too dangerous right now though, currently relaxing on a couch with a cup of hot coffee in one hand and a news paper in the other. His visor was off, set aside so he could enjoy his drink in peace though the rest of his uniform, for lack of a better word, was still there. Jacket, combat boots, even his weapon close by. To anyone else this would probably seem tense. In just a couple seconds he could slap his visor into place, grab his gun and throw himself into the thick of combat. However, she knew him better. For him, this was relaxed. To take any layer off, even a little, was great strides for him. To even be anything short of one hundred percent combat readiness was a big deal to him so she knew that even this little show was something monumental for the professional soldier.

 “Oh, worse?” she asked him teasingly as she pushed her foot out and rested it on his knee. He raised an eyebrow at her, but did nothing to make her move it off of him. “How so?”

 “You have shelter, and are warm. The storm isn't providing any danger to us and we have plenty of supplies to weather it out if we get-”

  “Ugh!” she groaned, her head flopping back. If teenagers looked back on snow trying to recapture childhood she couldn't even imagine how a guy like Jack looked at it. Here for a second she'd almost thought he would mention something nice about the weather and here he was practically listing off survival tips. “God, you are such a downer sometimes.”

 “Says the girl who is sulking just because she can't play her games,” he remarked. She gave him a little glare, and could swear he was smirking at her just behind his coffee cup. Only he'd tease her so casually he didn't even give a reaction that he was enjoying it.

 “It's boring,” she muttered. “There's nothing to do.”

 “If you need something to do that badly there's always joining today's security detail,” he informed her.

 “If I take my mech out in this it's going to end up with rust,” she replied. Back in Korea she'd had a whole crew to clean it up after missions but right now it was just her responsibility to keep it maintained. She didn't want to have to get snow and water out of all of the joints if she didn't have to. Besides, working on her day off seemed kind of foolish. Who would even attack in this kind of weather anyway?

 He only made a noncommittal noise back at her and shrugged. It seemed to be the end of the conversation, but even just talking was better than nothing at all.

 “What are you reading?” she asked him curiously.

 “Opinion articles on the reforming of Overwatch,” he replied. “It seems… mixed.”

 “That's a polite way to phrase it,” she snorted. Some places had been reacting like it was the end of the world, while others were singing their praises like it was the second coming. Ask anyone on the street how they felt about it and you could get anything from a curse filled rant or endless stories about how it was about time someone stepped up to save the world again. “We're here because we're needed. Why pay attention to that kind of stuff?”

 “It's always important to know where you stand with the people,” he replied, his tone sounding distant, even forlorn. She could tell he was getting sentimental all of a sudden. Probably thinking about something in his past, and for him that wasn't a good thing. He never had anything good to say about that subject anymore.

 “Okay, that's it,” she said as she stood up suddenly and snatched the paper out of his hand. She held it out of reach when he went to grab it, poking her tongue out at him.

 “Hana,” he said warningly, but she only crumpled it up into a ball and tossed it over her shoulder.

 “If anyone needs a distraction, it's you,” she said with a tone of finality and a soft giggle. “Come on.”

 It must have said something about their relationship that he didn't argue with her, instead simply followed along as she lead him up to the front door. She grabbed a couple things along the way, a blanket to wrap up in along with a thermos she filled up with more coffee. The snow was thick outside, but tucked away under an alcove with the blanket wrapped around her, she had to admit it looked kind of nice.

 There was nothing but white as far as the eye could see, pristine and pretty. It was also cold, but she only used it as an excuse to hold the blanket open to him, a silent invitation for him to join her. To his credit, he only hesitated a moment before he huddled with her and took the other end of the blanket and wrapped it around the two of them.

 “So tell me what the difference is between us waiting for the storm to end inside and waiting for the storm to end outside?” he asked her as she pressed close to him to share body warmth. It was still freezing outside after all and she didn't want to ruin the moment by the little niggling facts like hypothermia.

 “Well, this way we can appreciate the beauty of the snow,” she replied.

 “When's the last time you honestly just let yourself enjoy anything?”

 “Hmm, when did I meet you?” he asked, to which she felt her cheeks heat up. Hardly romantic, but from him it was said so honestly that it felt like a love sonnet.

 They were still navigating their relationship together. Cuddling and hand holding was about as far as they'd gotten after she'd admitted her crush on him, how much she admired him. She'd wanted to be a hero all her life because of Overwatch, and there was certainly a bit of hero worship in her towards people like him. Meeting him face to face, being by his side to fight the bad guys, it had only sent her feelings into overdrive. She'd just confessed because she'd known he couldn't possibly feel the same for her and had figured she needed to get over it in order to focus on her job of protecting the people.

 To this day she didn't know why he'd agreed to date her, but it had made her feel like one of the most special girls on the planet. It was very tame between them so far, but honestly speaking she was in no rush, just enjoying little moments like this as best she could.

 Everything between them was still fresh and new, like the fallen snow. Maybe it would change over time. Maybe it would be stomped on, walked over and ruined, turning to a messy and ugly slush that just had to be cleared away… or maybe new snow would fall and keep it pretty. She honestly didn't know.

 For now though, holding him like this and sharing sips of their warm beverage instead of being inside to keep warm like reasonable people, well… maybe their own snow storm would last a nice long time too.

#dva76week #D.Va #Soldier 76 #dva76 #jackrabbit