#my friend has a great attention to detail and is pretty fast at drawing!

[meruz]

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous) 

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury​ Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL. 

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool​ UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close. 

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually  that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

[nevertheless-moving]

thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa. 

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats. 

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs. 

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know. 

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys. 

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered. 

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses. 

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country. 

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan. 

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable. 

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.

#star wars #star wars au #dc #crossover #batman #anakin skywalker #corn boy anakin au

[crown-anon]

aah i thought of a req!!!!! could i maybe request one shots or hcs (separate) w dream, sapnap, n wilbur with a s/o (preferred he/him!!) who draws a whole lot,, n one day they catch him drawing him?? tysm :]

@ghcstbnr asked

gn i just realized i made a typo i meant cc catching reader drawing them- but ty again :)

of course! it's kind of long, sorry about that

I took a little creative liberty with the notion of "catching you drawing." also Sapnap's looks kind of long but it's also dialogue heavy. if you want me to redo it, I will. hope you like it 💗

& a note to everyone else, I don't write for Wilbur yet! I only write for the dream team at this time. sorry about that! this will probably change in the future, though, so look out 👀

CW: swearing

format: one-shot

people: dreamwastaken, Sapnap

pronouns: dreamwastaken's piece is ambiguous, Sapnap's piece uses he/him

edited 27 April 2021

—

dreamwastaken

since he doesn't use his camera, you find yourself with your boyfriend in the studio more often than not. when he's gaming casually, you play together, or one of you will cheer the other one on. when he's streaming, sometimes you interact with the viewers, or read donations for him; sometimes you just sit next to him, soaking up his energy and warmth. when he's working long days and long nights to edit videos, you're content with just relaxing together in the same space. at times you have to drag him out to the kitchen to eat, or help him to bed if he passes out, but…he's really cute when he's focused. (and you're starting to think he does it on purpose just so you can dote on him.)

today is a little different. he's recording for a manhunt that's meant to drop in a couple days. you're quiet, trying to avoid disrupting them. you're perched up on the loveseat, staring fondly at him across the room. he's so animated, the way his eyes shine when he talks to his friends, how he tears up when he laughs…

Patches mews at you from the arm of the couch, as if to say, disapprovingly, I cannot believe how sickeningly sweet your inner monologue is.

and you try to understand where she's coming from, you really do, but the sun's starting to set, and the gentle rays slotting through the blinds are shifting from white to gold.

he looks so divine, you decide. it's unfair. how could I not love him? he's seriously pretty. and before you can stop yourself, you're sketching him out on your tablet. you glance up at him fast to get the details right, and look away just as quickly. he never meets your eyes. soon your whole page is covered in little Clays, capturing the way he feels, the way he acts, the way you feel about him. Patches jumps off the chair, with all the moving. and before you know it, you've drawn up a whole page of concept art of your unfairly beautiful boyfriend. Patches was right about me, you muse to yourself.

fuck. Patches. the same Patches who's been meowing at you for the better part of an hour, now sitting patiently at the door? there's no way Clay didn't pick up on all that noise, you fret. but he's still playing, looking intense as ever. relief washes over you, replacing the guilt.

come here, girl, you think to yourself, knowing Patches wouldn't have even understood you if you spoke. sorry to keep you waiting. and you rise, slipping quietly out the door with his cat in your train.

—

you're coming back to the studio. Patches, fed and sated, is napping in another room. opening the door, you have to stop yourself, you freeze. your boyfriend's kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels, right next to the door—you'd have hit him if it opened any further.

"baby, what are you…" the words die on your tongue.

my book. my sketchbook. my sketchbook full of drawings of him. shit, he's gonna think I'm such a simp! the embarrassment, the shame, the fear, it's overwhelming you.

you hear your voice break. "…what happened to recording…?"

"finished half an hour ago," he says simply.

and that was that. for the first time in ages, the silence hanging between you was thick and heavy with tension. you wait. and wait. and wait. you wait for the criticism, the hate, the argument that never comes.

suddenly, he seems content with what he's seen, when he looks up at you adoringly, and takes one of your hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "is that…me?"

you've lost your voice, all you can do is nod.

"you…you think I'm beautiful?" he glows.

ah, I suppose I did write that, somewhere in there. you look away. all the things I've said…

he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves kisses on your knuckles.

you sound small. "do I not tell you that enough?" you pause. "that you're beautiful? that I love you?"

and just like that, his nervousness dissolves into euphoria. you both start laughing at the same time.

"oh my god—" he wheezes. "—you're so sappy."

"only for you," you blurt out, and start laughing harder. but he quiets, he hesitates.

"only for me," he repeats.

you sink down onto the floor next to him. he's staring so fondly at you, you can't help but smile back.

"only for you," you affirm.

he rests his hands on your knees, pulling himself closer to you. he's so close to you, you can feel his blush. you let your eyes close, softly.

but the kiss never comes. instead, you're met with a "then what about all those drawings of Patches?"

laying on the floor, tangled up in each other, in hysterics, you distantly think I hope he remembered to leave the call from recording earlier.

—

over dinner, you meet his gaze, and he gives you that look. that stupid, handsome look; the one with the smile and the danger behind his eyes. he makes a point of pausing mid-bite, but it takes you a minute to notice that he's stopped eating.

"what's up, honey?" you ask, sounding a little more concerned than you should have been.

he shrugs dramatically. "oh, nothing…just figured you'd appreciate a muse." there it was. the teasing. you knew it would happen eventually. but the tone, it's kind, it's tempting; gentle, unlike a serious jab.

so all you do is roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your mouth quirks into a smile. "you're so dumb," you murmur with affection, and shake your head at nothing in particular.

Patches curls her tail around your ankle as she passes you by.

—

on the couch hours later for movie night, you're the last one up. Patches is curled up in Clay's lap, purring. Clay, in turn, sleeps soundly in your lap. (you think if he could purr, he would, but he settles for humming softly when you play with his hair.) you might think it's funny looking back on it later, but it feels so tender and vulnerable now. you like calm evenings like this one. Studio Ghibli plays quietly on the flatscreen; you don't know which one, you're not really paying attention anymore.

you're busy tracing the contours of Clay's skin, feeling more than seeing his shape in the dark room. mapping him out in your mind, learning his figure like you're seeing him for the first time again. you think you understand him a little bit better, every day you spend together. and with confidence, you make your first stroke, illuminated by the moon.

—

Sapnap

you only barely stop yourself from drawing a big "X" across your paper. exhale, and start erasing furiously. don't rip the paper—well, we didn't need that sheet anyway. ball it up and throw it at the dark, cobwebbed corner of the room. along with the rest of your mistakes.

you're trying. you're really trying. but those lips. his fucking lips. fuck.

your boyfriend smiles at the camera as he gets a donation with a sweet message on it. it should be so easy. he's right there. right here.

you check the time. it's been an hour. you've been trying, and miserably failing, to get his lips right for an entire hour. today, at least. you scoff at yourself, your misery, and pinch the bridge of your nose. it isn't fair.

his camera's on, and he's live, so you know you can't be in there with him. nobody knows you're together, and you don't want know what kind of backlash to expect if people found out. so you've been avoiding his streams…the whole room where he streams, really.

you've kept yourself busy by drawing. and you've cycled through many subjects in your life, and eventually, been able to draw whatever you put your mind to with enough time and effort. the problem is, your sights have been set on Sapnap, even for months before you got together. okay, maybe that isn't the problem. the actual problem is that you fucking suck at drawing him.

you get going, start it out, do an okay job, but midway through screw it all up somehow. to make things worse, your reference is his 2D image. he doesn't…know that you draw him. you're terrified to say. so you can't use the real life Sapnap as a reference, like you would prefer.

ugh, and this one's ruined too. you rip it up and throw it at your growing pile of paper balls, but being tiny confetti-sized pieces of paper, they don't make it very far. great, something else to clean up later, you huff at your own thoughts. it isn't fair.

—

"[name]?" he calls for you. you're one step ahead, already opening the door. you can't remember when you got here and decided to brood outside his room.

"hey, do you think you can—" he tears his eyes from his camera, his waiting audience, to look up at you expectantly. when he sees you he stops immediately, looking concerned, standing to meet you.

"what is it?" your voice is flat.

out of view of the camera, he mouths, are you okay? you only shrug and avert your eyes.

he falters, contemplates, sits back down at his desk and starts to talk to his viewers. "hey guys, I'm sorry for the short notice, but I gotta cut this stream short. my…" he glances at you for approval, only to see you motioning with your hands as if to say, no, don't.

(you yourself don't really know what for. no, don't end the stream for me? no, don't out us like this?)

he looks back. "…my friend…something came up with my friend. I have to take care of it. it's really important." you can tell he has trouble finding the right words. you can tell it throws him off, he's acting out of character for his internet personality. do you blame him? isn't this your fault? "sorry again. bye guys!"

the second he made the last click, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. it's unexpected, it knocks the wind out of you. you're certain he feels the tension.

"babe…what's wrong?" it's muffled by your neck and the sweater you're wearing. you just hold him, saying nothing.

he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. "look at me. what's wrong?"

you feel all the more embarrassed. it's so silly to be upset about. "I…I…well, it's a lot."

he shakes his head, to say I'm not going anywhere, but his expression softens, his grip loosens. "do you want to talk about it?"

you sigh. "it started as 'I can't draw for shit', then it became 'why am I afraid of asking you for help?', and finally, worst of all, 'why the fuck can't we be seen together?' it isn't fair. it's never been fair. I'm sorry."

he thinks about it for a second. "okay, what makes you feel like we can't be seen together?"

"are you joking?" you snap. "we're two fucking boyfriends. in this society." he didn't look hurt by the outburst, but the guilt crept in anyway. "…I'm sorry."

he shakes his head, "do you really think I'd let that happen? I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, darling. remember that."

"I know, I know…" you don't know what to say. "it's easy to forget, I guess."

"what are you afraid to ask me for help about?"

"I…" shit, you guess you have to tell him. close your eyes, breathe, "I've been drawing you. trying to draw you. but I can't, it never turns out right."

you peek, and he's red in the face, stuttering. "me? you draw me? of all the hot people out there?"

you furrow your eyebrows at him. "don't give me that shit. you know you're cute."

he shakes his head incredulously. "are we talking about the same person here?"

"dude, your smile is literally the most radiant fucking force of nature I have ever seen."

"you're hot too! why are you coming after me?"

"I'm not 'coming after you', you're being defensive about your looks, when you shouldn't be! you're gorgeous, baby."

you're both giggling like girls at a sleepover, the anger and frustration long forgotten. now it's a war of who can be more grossly in-love with the other.

"what part of me," he manages between laughs. "are you having trouble drawing?"

"oh god," you groan, remembering yourself and your dilemma. "your lips."

"my fucking lips? you would think that—"

"no," you warn. "shut up. don't say it. don't you dare say it."

he leans in close, his hands have moved up to cup your face. you shiver.

"don't worry," he grins. "I won't."

the kiss is long and sweet, nothing like the ones you've shared in the past. he takes his time, you savor each other. you feel time stop ticking, you feel your heart stop beating, you feel the way he tilts his head. you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in. and when you part, you're breathing heavy, in tandem.

"thanks," you manage. "but I needed to see your lips, not kiss you into next saturday."

"nah," he laughs. "I think you needed that too."

you choose your words thoughtfully. "do you need me, too?"

he hums, and—

ding!

dreamwastaken donated $69!

:)

you could die. you could really, seriously die.

the response is instant. you don't even see Sapnap move from you to the PC, flushed down to his neck, apologizing, apologizing, and apologizing again. "change of plans, guys, we're doing an art stream!"

the chat is filled with "huh?"s and "what?"s.

"huh? what?" you didn't have the time to process what just happened.

karljacobs: I thought we were doing a make-out-with-our-secret-boyfriends stream :(

he smiled warmly at you. "yeah. my lovely boyfriend is going to draw me! he's been wanting to for a really long time, and his art is really good. let's go get your stuff."

you're in so much shock that he makes it past you and out of the room, while you stand there waiting. after a pause much longer than you intended, you hurry after him.

—

down the hall, in your room, he's got your sketchbook tucked under his arm, closed. you're sure you left it open when you came out.

you only barely get the words out. "um, did you…go through it? please don't laugh."

your heart sinks when he laughs heartily, but he grabs your hand, resting it on your book, about to hand it off. but he holds you there for a second. "of course not. I respect your privacy." he ponders for a moment. "I respect you."

you can feel the sigh of relief when you let it out. "I…love you."

your holding your book now, as he moves to collect the boxes containing your pens and pencils and colors. he gets them all together, but before he picks them up to head back, he turns around to face you. "is this too much?"

you absently reach for a hand, tracing over the lines on his palms. and you think about it. am I okay? is this too much?

"I don't think so. not with you. I'm okay."

he moves to open the door and grab the rest of your things. "well then, let's not keep them waiting!"

—

edited 27 April 2021

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #clay x reader #sapnap x reader

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Drawings on Ice (Part One) | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by anonymous:  I’d love for you to write a Charlie hockey fic. I’ve been hearing that heard a great hockey player so I need that in my life

A/N: this is going to be a two-parter! Hope this is what you imagined! 

Summary: You moved from the US to Canada, starting over at a new college. Your newest (and only) friend begs you to join her at her boyfriend’s hockey practice where you see Charlie for the first time. With his beautiful eyes and perfect smile and perfect facial structure, you become obsessed with drawing him. It’s been a habit of yours to draw anyone you saw with interesting bone structure. Though your friend warns you about the jock bad boy, you can’t help but be intrigued by him... 

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: I hope I made this as gender neutral as possible! Let me know if there’s anything I need to change to make it even more inclusive for non-binary/gender fluid people. 

Words: 3,648

Warnings: Some curse words (bitch, fuckboy)

You’ve never been a fan of any type of sports. Your siblings used to play basketball and you had to go to their games, though you were always busy sketching in your sketchbook to really notice or learn anything about it. Then, you suddenly had to move for your mother’s job. To Canada, of all places. Canada, the land of maple syrup, brutally cold winters… and hockey. The only good thing about moving thus far, was meeting Andrea. Andrea is a preppy, happy-go-lucky kind of girl, and was the first one to talk to you on your first day at your new college. Always dressed in pink or purple, make-up done flawlessly and always so kind, you think she’s being fake. Normally, people like that scared you. Kids like that in your American High School were always the popular ones that bullied the antisocial nerds, which included you at that point. That’s why you’d avoided talking to anyone on your first day. Only Andrea was persistent. You could not for the life of you shake her off. 

So, instead of trying any longer, you embraced it and became friends with her fast. Thanks to her, you found your way through the buildings and all the classes. She even gave you tips on some of the professors you had. 

To be fair, Andrea did help you out a lot, so when she asked you to come along to her new boyfriend’s hockey practice, you had no other choice but go. You’d packed your sketchbook though, just in case you got bored. “So, which one is yours?” you ask Andrea when you sit down in the bleachers with her. “Number eight!” she says, pointing to one of the players skating in circles. He catches his girlfriend pointing at him and gives her a wave, which makes Andrea giggle. The boy with the number 10 plastered on his back, turns upon seeing his buddy wave to the bleachers. You catch his eyes and feel a shiver run down your spine. Even from afar, you can tell those are the most beautiful and enchanting eyes you ever did see. “Who’s number 10?” you ask Andrea without taking your eyes off the boy. Without even noticing, you start to trace his features on your leg with your finger, a habit you developed over the years. His chiseled cheekbones, his fine nose, the wrinkles by his mouth as he smiles up at her. “Charlie. Sam’s best friend,” Andrea explains while you try your hardest not to stare at the cute hockey player while you’re tracing him. “Wouldn’t get too close though, I heard he has a reputation of being a heartbreaker.” Of course. All cute boys have to be absolute disappointments.  Despite Andrea’s warning, you couldn’t help but think about Charlie every minute of the day. It was the smile and the eyes that haunted you through every lecture and every study-session with Andrea in the library. You traced his features on your empty papers on automatic pilot, not even realizing you were doing it until you were actually drawing him with a ballpoint pen. “Honey, no!” Andrea says sternly. The two of you are at the library, studying for midterms when the drawing on your notes starts to take shape. The shape of a certain hockey player. “I can’t help it, Andi! He’s in my mind and I just -- my brain just tells me to draw things and he’s been the only thing on my mind lately, I… I don’t know why or what it is, but I’m kind of drawn to him?” The girl in front of you shakes her head disappointedly. “Look at him!” she whisper-shouts, nodding her head to somewhere behind you. You slowly turn your head to find Charlie with one leg up on a chair, leaning his elbow on it as he’s flirting with a girl. “That’s number five this week… And it’s Tuesday.” You can’t help but stare at him though. His profile is impeccable. Before you know it, you’re back to tracing his features on your leg. “Y/N!” Andrea shouts in a hushed tone, capturing your attention again, ruining your entire mental picture of Charlie. “You ought to stop that, sweetie. I don’t want you getting hurt.” “Oh, I don’t get hurt, Andi,” you reply with a smirk, turning to face her again, “Being the antisocial kid in high school has its perks.” Andrea’s eyes widen at something behind you. “Time to prove it then,” she mutters. You quickly hide your drawing underneath your textbook and pretend to continue studying as Charlie approaches your table. “Hello, ladies,” he greets with a charming smile. Though on the inside you’re just about melting, your tough exterior doesn’t give it away. “I don’t think we’ve met.” He reaches a hand out to you. “I’m Charlie.” You glance up from your textbook, let your eyes dart from his hand to his face and turn back to your textbook. “Okay…” he mutters, feeling a little defeated by his first rejection. “We’re studying, Charlie. Can we help you with anything?” He glances over at you for a split second as he thinks about it. 

“Uhm, yeah. Are you guys coming to the game this weekend?” His flirty demeanor changes all of a sudden to someone less confident. You look up at him, wanting to break your antisocial facade because it never brought you anywhere in High School and won’t bring you anywhere now. “I might. If I don’t have anything better to do, that is.” You decide to run with the sassy-bitch inside you. Charlie actually looks disappointed with this answer. “Okay…” he turns back to Andrea, “You’ll come, right?” She nods her head. “Can you convince her?” You chuckle at his desperate attempt, which earns you a glare from him. “She can make up her own mind, Charlie,” Andrea replies, raising her hands in defense. Gruntled and disappointed, Charlie turns around and leaves the two of you alone. “Girl!” Andrea squeals once he’s out of earshot, and holds up her hand for a high five, which you giddily give. “Told you I could do it,” you shrug with an amused smile on your face. “That was very impressive. Did you see his face when you didn’t even introduce yourself? He was so disappointed his charms didn’t work on you!” she giggles loudly. The librarian shushes her, and she holds up her hands in defense before lapsing into quieter giggles with you. You can’t help but feel bad though. Charlie actually seemed incredibly upset by your lack of interest. It makes you wonder if he actually says who people say he is. On Saturday, you go to the hockey game anyway. There’s nothing else you can do, and besides, it gives you a chance to draw a little more of Charlie in action on the ice. The surprised smile on Charlie’s face is to die for. It makes you feel like you’re the only girl he sees, like he’s not the guy people say he is. You say hello to Andrea and some of her friends you’ve met before, and sit down on the bench, immediately getting your sketchpad and pencil out. You start on Charlie, but halfway through, Andrea asks you to draw Sam too. Deciding it would probably be less suspicious if you drew the entire team, you start on Sam. By halftime, you have about every team member on your page sketched out. None of them quite as detailed as Charlie, but you’ll get to that at some point. “We’re going to say hello to the boys, you coming?” Andrea asks you when you’re shading your drawings. You glance up at Andrea, then glance down at the rink where you find Charlie already looking at you. He cocks his head, beckoning you to come over. For a second then, you’re forgetting all about your antisocial facade and feel yourself heat up. You cough the feeling away and get up after stuffing your sketchpad back into your bag, following Andrea down the steps. “You came,” he states when you reach him on the side of the rink. “Are you always this attentive?” you ask with a hint of sarcasm flavoring your voice. His chuckle fills your ears like a beautiful melody. Why does he do this to you? There honestly are so many boys that could be so much better for you, but instead, you’re crushing on the campus bad boy. “Are you always this hostile?” You’re dumbfounded at his comeback. No one ever called you hostile. Antisocial, sure. A bitch, multiple times. But never hostile. “You weren’t paying a lot of attention to the game though?” he says, changing the subject upon noticing your reaction. “Well, neither have you if you noticed me not paying attention,” you shoot back, an amused smile tugging at your lips. “Touché,” he chuckles. “But seriously, what were you doing?” You open your mouth to say something, but are stuck on what to tell him. Do you lie to him? Or say the truth? “I--I’m an arts student, and I draw pretty much everything I see, so…” His eyes widen at your response, as does his smile. You’re not entirely sure if telling the truth was a good idea. He might just run off, like everyone in High School used to do when you told them you drew them, no matter how good it was. Everyone always thought it was creepy, so you tended to keep all your art to yourself. “Can I see?” he asks just as the ref blows his whistle, signalling the start of the next half. He gives me an apologetic look, thinking of a good compensation. “Stay after the game?” You know you shouldn’t. You know Andrea is probably right and he’s the biggest womanizer walking this earth, but looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes and witnessing his lips curl up into the most beautiful smile, you can’t help but nod your head. His teeth bite down his lip as he skates away, keeping his eyes on you. 

“What was that about?” Andrea asks you when you take your seats again. You let out a deep, confused, yet content sigh. “I have no clue…” For a while, you watch the game -- mostly Charlie -- and witness him making a goal. You, along with all the other supporters of the team, get up from your seats, cheering loudly. Charlie looks up at you, a wide smile plastered on his face as he points to you. Your heart skips a beat, not expecting him to do something like that at all. “Someone has a crush on you…” Andrea whispers in your ear, a teasing smile on her face. “No, he doesn’t! That wasn’t for me…” you try to reassure yourself, but fail miserably. That was for you, and you know it all too well. Another thing you know, is that this probably shouldn’t be quite as heart-melting as it is. “If that’s what you have to tell yourself…” Andrea mutters before turning back to the game. This is not what you thought would happen in your first month of moving to Canada and starting anew at another college. Not at all. 

The game is coming to an end now, and you’re still watching. Yes, you read that correctly. You’re still watching the game. A sports game. You! You never thought you would even last ten minutes watching, but somehow, Charlie made it all the more interesting. After every goal he’s scored, he pointed up at you, making you blush like crazy. You have absolutely no idea what’s happening or why he’s doing what he’s doing. All you know is that you like it. You like the way he makes you feel like a normal person for once in your life. Like you’re important. Like you matter. For once, it doesn’t feel like you’re the weirdo art kid that sits on the sidelines, drawing everything and everyone they see. “We’re going to go for some drinks with the team, want to come?” Andrea asks when the game is over and the players all head to the dressing rooms and the crowd files out of the bleachers. “Oh, uhm… I think I might stay a little while longer, you know? Work on my sketches,” you try your hardest not to smile like an absolute crazy person. Andrea raises her eyebrows at you, giving  you a knowing look. She can just about see right through you. “Just be careful, okay?” she takes you in for a quick hug goodbye and then leaves with her friends. You sit down again and take your sketchpad out of your bag to kill some time while waiting for Charlie. He probably has to shower and change out of his gear and talk to his buddies before coming out to find you. For a while, you just sit and stare at the drawing of all these boys. They’re scattered all over the paper, but only one really captures you, and that’s Charlie. He’s the boy in the center of the page. Somehow, you really managed to bring out his very best features. His sparkling eyes, his chiseled jawline, his sharp cheekbones. On that page in front of you is Charlie. Though the others somewhat look about right, Charlie really takes the crown in this picture. It’s almost like you’ve studied him so well, that you drew him this perfectly. Which is only half true. All it took was one look and you had him down. All of his features, all of his details. You had it all down from one single look at him. You’ve started adding some more shadows to his face, the world around you vanishing as those eyes stare right back at you. You’re so enthralled, you don’t even notice the real life Charlie walking up to you until his voice reaches your ears. “Hey, sorry if I made you wait long.” Your head snaps up and your eyes widen, almost looking like a deer caught in headlights. He places his bag on the bench in front of you before sitting down next to you. A scent of minty freshness and invigorating citrus meets your nostrils. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about it,” you tell him with a smile, carefully closing your sketchpad and sticking your pencil between the rings at the top. “That was a very good game,” you compliment him, nodding towards the rink to emphasize. “I think… Not really a sports person.” He chuckles at this, glancing down at the floor bashfully. “I guess I found my lucky charm.” The second he looks up at you again and those words tumble out of his mouth, you can feel your stomach do flips. To cover the way it actually makes you feel, you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly. “How many people have you said that too, hm?” you ask with raised eyebrows. His smile falters at this, making you realize that it might not be something he likes to hear. The same way you don’t like hearing you’re a creep or a stalker for drawing pictures of people. “I don’t know what people have said about me to you, but I really am not what they peg me for.” His voice is soft, and for the first time since meeting him, he sounds fragile. “You sleep with two different people in one week, and they have you pinned down as the campus’ man-whore.” You give him a sympathetic smile, even though he’s not even looking at you. “I’m not actually this guy that sleeps around, you know? Sure, I flirt with a lot of people, but if your reputation precedes you, well…” he trails off at the end, and then finally looks up at you. “I know how you feel…” you start carefully, which captures his undivided attention. “There was this girl in high school and she had the most beautiful features, you know? Sharp jawline, the deepest dimples in her cheeks when she smiled… I couldn’t help but keep drawing her. She just took so well on paper, and when I showed her, she called me a stalker and a creep. From then on out, I became the stalker creep from Valley High.” You roll your eyes at the memory of Kiara and everyone else at that school. “So, I have a reputation that precedes me too…” “It’s nice to know I’m not alone,” Charlie says with a light-hearted chuckle. “Could I… Could I look at your work?” he carefully asks, pointing at the pad in your lap. You wrapped your fingers around the leatherbound sketchbook, debating it. “Promise you won’t run when you see what’s in here?” You offer it to him, and he grabs it, but you’re holding it so tightly, he can’t take it. He raises an eyebrow at you. “What? It’s not like you drew me or anything, did you?” he jokes, to which you just press your lips together in a thin line. His expression softens in realization. “Oh…” You stare at him for a moment, both of you holding onto the pad. “I promise I won’t run, okay?” You slowly let go of the pad. He places it on his lap and starts flipping through pages. The first few drawings are random kids from campus, either studying in the library or reading a book underneath the big maple tree. Then follow Andrea’s drawings. She suggested being your model, she said you could ask her any time you wanted. After that, Charlie’s sketches follow. The first few are of him during practice with his helmet on. On the next page, are the ones you drew in the library. Some profile, some portrait. He then flicks to the one of all the players, and shuts it after finding empty pages after that. It’s silent for a moment, like he’s taking it all in. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shown you that,” you quickly say and reach for your book, but Charlie has a steady grip on it. He finally looks up at you, a shocked expression on his face. “No. No, it’s just… I wish I knew the name of the artist that captured me so realistically on paper.” You swallow a lump in your throat as his hazel eyes bore deep down into your soul. “Uhm… Y/N,” you introduce yourself shyly. “I just have a habit of drawing people with really nice facial structure, I guess…” you add with a nervous chuckle, staring down at your fingers as they play around with the bracelets around your wrists. “Huh…” You look up at that, wondering if it’s a weirded-out ‘huh’ or something else. “What?” It comes out in an unwanted whisper. “No one’s ever given me a compliment about my facial structure,” he smiles down at you. It’s the most overwhelming feeling of warmth radiating through your body from that one smile. “It’s true though! If you check that last page of the whole team, the others don’t really have that sharp a jaw or chiseled cheekbones like you,” you state, pointing at the sketchpad. He opens it on that page and watches it for a couple seconds. “This makes me feel like the prettiest boy on the team.” He closes it again and hands it over to you, looking straight into your eyes again. You swear you’re going to faint one time if he keeps on doing that. “You are the prettiest boy on the team, Charlie,” you joke, grinning teasingly whilst clutching the sketchpad against your chest. Charlie chuckles at this, and you swear you can detect a slight blush on his cheeks as he looks down at his feet again. “You want to get out of here?” he then asks, “We could go to the coffee shop across the street to warm up? Get that little nose of yours back to its normal color.” He softly boops your nose, which is no doubtedly red from the cold from the ice rink. You giggle nervously, and then nod your head in agreement. The two of you get up from your seats and grab your bags. Before you even realize it, Charlie has grabbed your freezing hand in his warmer one, and guides you down the bleachers all the way to the café across the street. The warmth engulfs you like a welcome hug as the two of you take a seat in a booth by the window. “What’s your go-to coffee order?” he asks, perusing the menu even though he knows what he wants. You scan the booklet, looking for the one thing you always get.   “A cappuccino with whipped cream,” you reply, pointing at the order on the menu. “Ooh, good choice!” he agrees excitedly, “Would choosing a hot chocolate make me less cool?” You chuckle, “Well, it’s a hot chocolate, it’s bound to make you less cool.” He laughs at your joke, throwing his head back. You can’t help but laugh along, mostly at how adorable he is in a fit of laughter. “Good one, Y/N,” he says. You give your orders to the waitress, and lapse into a conversation about everything and anything. He asks you about your college major, and you ask him all about hockey. The way his eyes light up when he’s talking about the sport he loves, or anything he loves, is endearing. You can’t believe Andrea made you stay away from him for so long. Charlie really isn’t the bad boy jock she had him pegged for. If anything, he’s the opposite. He’s kind and considerate, and incredibly ambitious and passionate about everything he loves. You just want to know everything about him and spend as much time with him as possible. Without even realizing it, you’re tracing his features again on your leg, preparing for yet another drawing of him. Preparing for more adventures with him.

Taglist: @parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​ @lolychu​ @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @siennanoelle01​

Let me know if you wanna be on my taglist! :)

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #charlie x reader #charlie x gender-neutral reader #charlie gillespie fic #luke patterson #reggie jatp #jeremy shada #alex jatp #owen joyner #owen patrick joyner #julie molina #madison reyes #flynn jatp #jadah marie #nick jatp #sacha carlson #carrie wilson #savannah lee may #jatp #jatp fandom #fantoms

[playboysaleen]

Love Malady.

Part 2.

Part 1.

Summary: Daughter of the notorious gang of thieves. One day your brothers group kidnap a nobel woman. Feeling guilt you gave her warm clothes, tended to her injuries, and helped her escape. instantly the world falls under a deadly pandemic and is killing/infecting people left to right and you are the only one who is immune. All because you saved a girl years ago coming to find out... it was the goddess of death(Famine).

Warnings- cursing i think, violence.

___________

Present.

February 12th, 2021.

The night Buck got sick changed everyone's life. I waited hours for my phone to ring giving me the ‘okay homeboys fine.’ but Jaime walked into my room with tear-stained cheeks telling me Buck didn't make it.

Then a couple days later after Bucks death one of the guys found Adam dead with the same symptoms. Then Pedro, then Jackson, then Shelli, and it killed off almost all of my fathers gang. The disease spread like a wildfire. From our home town to the city, the state then just did this hopscotch move and expanded around the whole world.

The first year the doctors tried to keep it a secret but it flared so fast that society called it the ‘Sinister Ash’. There was no cure when the officials realized it was airborne, literally nothing could cure anyone. Some were lucky with similarities of a stomach virus and a mild headache, and there were the less fortunate. Headaches, stomach bugs, fever and cancer like symptoms. The strong can work through it but it was permanent. The rest who had it worst? Died off just like Buck and Adam.

“Why are you not eating?” My fathers voice rang me out of my thoughts with his thick Venezuela accent, I peeked at my father shrugging my shoulders. Grumbling, he focused his attention to Jaime as they went over the next move for their ‘purloins’. I grabbed my plate walking towards the kitchen running the hot water over the greatest plate, a thud sounded in the dining room which caused my brother's name to boom out my fathers mouth. I ran towards the other side of the table to grasp my brother's shaking body, cursing under my breath. I dialed 911.

“The ambulance is on the way, go Pa.” I instructed my father watching his face fall, he sighed placing his hand on my shoulder.

“Our time has come, I love you, my child.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on my forehead making his way out the back. I cooed into Jaime’s hair as I held him in my arms praying to the man above if he could not let this disease invade my brother's body. ________________________________________ “Did you at least get the girls number?” Jaime stated in disbelief when he woke up and saw the EMT worker reeling him into the ER. I chuckled, shaking my head playfully, pushing his shoulder.

“She was pretty..” I mumbled causing Jaime to widen his eyes pushing me back-

“I TOLD YOU!” he laughed out loud when the doctor walked in with a clipboard. A man around his 50’s with a look that masked his face of light, but we all knew he was trying to survive like the rest of us.

“Good afternoon, I am Doctor Nives.” The man spoke ever so gently but his beard gave me Cap vibes. I nodded my head looking at Jaime slipping my hand into his.

“So there’s news, I do not know how you both will take it but-“ he grabs the x rays placing them onto the screen that took up half of the wall next to Jaime. I watched as the deeper detailed body of my brother's chest caged clouds of red, black, and green.

“As you can see you have stage 2 of the Ashen, the red that covers this area here-” Dr. Nives circled the red that surrounded the upper left of my brother's chest.

 “Covers your heart, but after running the test I see your red cells are fighting the virus and it knocks more time for you.” A lump formed in my throat as the last 4 words flew out his mouth.

“Wait, what do you mean more time?” His eyes soften sending me a sympathetic look, Jaime gasped softly looking down at his hands.

“Well from the lab work it shows that you had 3 months, but at how good your cells are handling the virus you have 6 months to a year.” He finished taking his gloves off and applying hand sanitizer,

“Since you ma’am we’re around him can we run some lab work for your safety?” He asked looking between Jaime and I. I looked at my brother to see him nodding my way, turning to the man I nodded as he clasp his hands together. 

“Great. We can move you right next door so you can stay close to your brother.” Reassuring the both of us, I placed a kiss against his forehead following the doctor out. I took a seat onto the bed leaning against the back of the wall holding out my arm. 

For the last 4 years I’ve noticed a big change in my appearance that it actually scares me on the inside. First year, I lost a tremendous amount of weight, the extra weight turned into bulk in the places I always wished for.. huh..

 During the first year, the acne on my face disappeared in thin air. One minute I’m trying to clean the pores with three different facial cleansers, I go to bed, then the next I wake up and my face is so clear. I was changing for the better, yet the world was changing for the worst. That first year we lost almost 2 million lives, including a lot of the people around me. 

The second year is what sparked my curiosity of my body. One night, I was cooking dinner for Jaime and I, having a heavy debate with who is better at shooting the knife slid through my palm causing Jaime to spring off the island placing his hand against the deep gash trying his best to stop the bleeding. We knew we couldn’t head to the hospital for the sake of our fathers identity and the groups, so Jaime wrapped my hand the best he could and called it a night. I didn’t like his Tostadas anyways. Next day, I woke up to change my bandage. I opened the wrap to see no gash from the night before. Eyebrows furrowing together I question my own body for the first time in my life.. I can’t be immortal, that’s only in books. Then I noticed it. From small paper cuts to bruises- my wounds healed faster than any other person. From taking days for a wound to close, a couple minutes and it’s gone. Clean. Like it was never there to begin with. 

Last year, an incident had happened; Traumatizing to say. Snuck out with an old friend of mine, talking around the den says she’s been trying to make a move on me but me being me I waved them off knowing she’s not the type. Met up with her, got a couple drinks in headed back to her place, got a couple kisses in. The kissing escalated until this small beautiful voice that I heard years back echoed in my ears, jumping back, I stopped what we had and went home. Next day I received the news that she passed away AND GET THIS- JUST like Buck. Since then, her voice echoes in my ear. It’s been quiet the last month, I miss it though. 

A pinch brought me out of my thoughts when the nurse smiled my way explaining what the blood was for and Dr.Nives will be in shortly to give me the news. I snooped around heading to my brothers room when my name was said from the doctors a couple rooms down from me. 

“That can’t be possible, it’s only been 5 minutes and she’s literally clean from head to toe.” A nurse quarreled, a couple more murmurs were heard but Dr.Nives voice caught my attention-

“Let’s do Code A.” A gasp was heard from within their circle with multiple disagreements, confusion flashed my face until a ‘yes sir’ and footsteps were heard coming my way. I sprinted towards my room taking a seat sending Jaime a small text message. 

“Heya Y/n, do you mind if I give you some antibiotics just in case you are diagnosed with the Ashen?” The nurse requested which I nodded extending my arm watching her place the small plate next to me. I squinted my eyes examining the shot that contained a weird dark substance. 

“Why is the stuff black? Isn’t medicine a clear color for safety purposes?” I blurted out, watching the nurse grab the shot striking the needle into my vein. I grunted feeling the warm liquid enter my body, I huffed lightly leaning my head against the wall. Then, it hit me. 

“Wait, what if my test comes back negative? Why do I need antibiotics?” I glanced at the nurse feeling my heartbeat raise as the room began to shrink.

“What’s… what’s happening to me?.” I whispered watching the nurse draw more blood from the previous spot. I felt like I needed to throw up, once the nurse left I wobbled towards my brothers room next door, 

“Man bro we need to get some take out when we leave this place- Y/n? Are you okay?” Jaime rambled out then his face washed with concern as I stumbled onto his bed. 

“I don’t feel so good Brother..” I breathed out looking up to lock eyes with his own. He gasped, wrapping his arms around me, rocking me back and forth. 

“Y/n…” he whispered, watching my contacts with my brown eyes slowly drain into this grey/golden color. 

“What the hell happened?” He asked turning towards the door making sure no one came in.

“They gave me the Sinister Ash.. I can feel it in my chest. We have to go.” I grunted using all my strength to push myself off my brother's bed wobbling towards the door. A cough formed in my throat falling out my mouth, my hand flew to my mouth watching the black and red substance pool into my hands. 

“Y/N?” Jaime shouted running to my side, I grabbed him for support walking out the room. I felt the fire in my chest pass when a small burp lashed out my lips. Sighing deeply I stood up straight facing Jaime. 

“I… I feel better.” I mumbled opening the doors to the emergency waiting room. My body collided with another grabbing them instantly- I gasped at how quick my reflexes were, even Jaime’s eyes widened. 

“Why thank you, I’m so sorry I- Y/m? Why are you not in your room?” Doctor Nives questioned looking between the both of us, I felt warm liquid on the side of my mouth. Quickly wiping it, a fake smile formed on my face slowly stepping back towards the exit just a couple feet from us. 

“Sorry Doctor, but I think it’s time my brother and I head home- our father must be worried sick.” I bluffed, gripping my brother's wrist, giving him the signal.

 “Y/n. We know who you both are.”

_______________

Thank you for the wait<3

taglist- @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda #The Avengers #avenger #powers #book #WLW #fanfiction

[kuroosmikasavolleyball]

More Than A Friendly Competition

Abendrot

(n) the color of the sky when the sun is setting; a certain afterglow.

____________________________________________

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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More Than A Friendly Competition

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(a/n): this is the second part of the series! I hope I wrote quidditch games accurately. I haven’t read or watched Harry Potter in a while, but I used one of the quidditch clips(first movie’s first match) as a reference. I am going to write other(haikyuu, marvel, jjk) fics so please request! As always, republish and like if you want, and message/ask me if you have any questions or comments about this fic or just in general. This is a safe and loving place for everyone. Thank you for reading<3

Part 2 summary: The first of two quidditch games is set in action. (Y/N) acts as a supporter for Cedric and the twins because who cares if they’re in different teams, they’re all still her friends! Kimball and Roger come with a plan for tomorrow’s game. As an exciting but suspenseful match goes on, who knows what house will take the win?

pairing: cedric x fem!reader(in ravenclaw)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 0.9k

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(Y/N) walked into the Great Hall, immediately seeing a cluster of rich red and sunshine yellow. She ran over to the twins with fiery hair.

“Good morninnng.” (Y/N) dragged her words.

“Are you ready to see me and Freddie kick arse out there?”

“YES! But also, I’m a mutual support for you guys and Ced.” She pointed to her cheeks; one cheek with red and gold stripes, and the other with yellow and black.

Fred exclaimed, “I hate how you always do this! Just pick a side or alternate every match. You better be supporting us even if we decide to hit pretty boy with a bludger.”

(Y/N) shrugs, “We’ll see. I’m gonna head over to Ced and then eat breakfast. I want to get a good seat!”

The bustling crowd in the Great Hall held voices of excitement for one of the only two matches this year.

“Hello Mr. Diggory, how are you doing this fine morning?” (Y/N) mockingly bowed.

“Yes very well. And you?” He played along. Both burst into laughter when Cedric dabbed his handkerchief on his mouth in a posh manner.

“So are you ready for today?”

“Pretty much. The team feels good about this match, I can feel it.”

“Ok Captain; kick it out there. I’m gonna go over to my table; I think Kimball is waiting for me to calm her nerves about tomorrow. Good luck!”

(Y/N) strode away and saw Kimball and Roger muttering about plans.

“Oh look who decided to join us, Ms. I have so many friends in different houses.”

“Ugh, Roger. I was just wishing Ced and the twins good luck. What is this?”

A sheet of paper with weirdly detailed drawings lay in the middle of the table. Definitely Kimball’s work.

She answered, “We had an idea for tomorrow.”

After breakfast and waiting in the stands, the quidditch game was finally about to begin. Lee Jordan’s infamous commentary added to the exciting atmosphere. It was a beautiful day, almost made for flying. A few Ravenclaws used to give her weird looks for supporting both teams whenever Gryffindor and Hufflepuff versed; but now they couldn’t blame her. Fred, George, and Cedric were amazing players and it didn’t hurt that they were good-looking.

“Welcome to Hogwarts’ first of only two games of the season! Today’s game: Gryffindor and Hufflepuff! Let’s welcome the incredibly talented Gryffindor Quidditch Team!” Lee exclaimed.

“And the also kind of good Hufflepuff Quidditch Team!” Mcgonagall glared at him, but didn’t say anything.

The whole school depends on Quidditch games, so the cheers were almost too loud.

“Atleast they don’t cheat like Slythe-“ “-MR. JORDAN!” “-I mean…Let’s get on with the game. Professor Hooch is now giving the routine rules and..the bludgers, followed by the Golden Snitch, are released…the quaffle is up! THE GAME BEGINS!”

Instantly, the crowd goes wild. (Y/N) focuses in on Cedric, who searches for the Snitch, along with Harry. She knew Harry because being friends with the twins meant knowing their family from being invited over, and in turn, Ron’s friends. Plus, Harry was really well-known at Hogwarts and The Chosen One.

“..Spinnet with the quaffle, dodging everything to making her way to the goals..GO ALICIA! And..oh. Hufflepuff’s keeper, Herbert Fleet blocks it. That’s alright…”

Lee’s commentary faded as (Y/N) zoned into the game even more. George hit a bludger mildly fast to another Hufflepuff chaser, Heidi, who barely dodges it but still lets go of the quaffle.

The game goes on for way too long, the players not giving up. Harry and Cedric zoom past the Ravenclaw audience stand, a slight smell of sweat wafting the air.

“Go Ced!” (Y/N) exclaims as they both zero in on the Snitch, hands reaching.

“It looks like Diggory and Potter are fighting for the win. Someone’s closing in…CEDRIC DIGGORY HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! HUFFLEPUFF WINS!”

Whoops and cheers fill the air as both houses rush down, eager to congratulate the victors and comfort the losers.

(Y/N) runs to Cedric, but a crowd has already formed and he’s being lifted. She smiles and turns, running to the out-of-breath twins.

“OH GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE WE LOST! GEORGE AND I WERE AT THE TOP OF OUR GAME TODAY!”

“It’s okay guys, I’m so proud of you both.” (Y/N) hugs them, not caring about the sweat, “You did so good today. If Ced didn’t get the snitch, Gryffindor was in the lead.”

“Diggory better be glad we didn’t win; our non-ending bragging would’ve made him lose his mind.” Everyone chuckles.

(Y/N) looks over her shoulder, cheeks red and smile bright. “You should go to him.”

She looks away. “Huh? No, he’s already surrounded.”

“Don’t sound so oblivious, lover girl. It doesn’t matter, just run up and I promise he’ll have all his attention on you in a second.” Fred beams.

“Shut up…” (Y/N) turns away from the twins and runs in Cedric’s direction anyways, calling his name. His excited eyes shift to her and he runs to her.

“YOU DID SO AMAZING OUT THERE!” (Y/N)’s voice muffled by the tight hug Cedric gave her. How did he still smell good?

He laughs, “Thank you. Really.” He lets go. A blush from the slightly cold air up above and flying had formed, and he looked...wow. 

“Are you coming back with us?”

“Oh..shoot. I would, but Hufflepuff is having a celebration-sort of thing…”

“No problem. I understand; go and have fun Ced, people are giving me looks.”

He chuckles and walks backwards, “I’ll try and come though!”

The Ravenclaw common room seemed better to have a late night talk/homeowrk session since all of Gryffindor was sulking.

Fred teases, “I heard they have alcohol at the Hufflepuff party. I bet pretty boy will drink and we’ll finally see something other than the good-two-shoes.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widen. The only time Cedric ever drank was with her, and he got too tipsy too fast.

“Wait, what?”

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#cedric diggory #imagines #cedric imagine #harry potter #fanfic #cedric diggory imagines #harry potter imagine #series #quidditch #fred and george #weasley twins #gryffindor #hufflepuff #cedric x y/n #cedric x reader #masterlist #bts #writing #fiction #abendrot series #abendrot

[one-boring-person]

Fair Game.

T-800 x reader (Terminator: Judgement Day version)

Warnings: sexual themes mentioned, gun use

Context: The T-800 wants to learn to be more human.

A/N: I absolutely love the terminator films, so I will try and write more for them, even though it's not very popular amongst you guys 😅 this is just some idea I've had rattling around in my head, so enjoy!

P.S. To the people who have requested things, I have not forgotten or ignored you! I'm just in the process of writing them out, so I should have one out by tomorrow.💛

Masterlist

The temperature has slowly gotten cooler over the last few hours or so, the sky beginning to darken a little until the last light comes from the rays of sun just cresting over the horizon, casting the landscape in an orange tint. Annoyingly, it also means I can't see what I'm doing, the shape of each separate part of the assault rifle in my hands nearly indistinguishable as they start blurring into each other. A sigh of irritation leaves me as I put them down again, stretching my back as I stand up from the picnic bench again, shaking the stiffness from my joints, my body cramping from sitting in the same position for hours. My hands ache, too, my palms and fingers coated in a layer of gun oil, a result of the rigourous cleaning I've put the weapons through, something which wasn't necessarily required, but I felt like doing anyway, to take my mind off the more gruesome details of the past day or so, still trying to process what exactly is happening.

Just yesterday, John and I were messing around in the arcade, using his hacking skills to our advantage as he stole some money, the two of us having a great time with his friend, who we had to leave behind, for his own safety. A cop went around asking others about John, making the mistake of questioning our friend, who then let us know of the possible danger of being caught, prompting us to run, trying to escape another warning from the feds. From that point onwards, everything went pear shaped: another man appeared from nowhere and shot the cop, who had pulled a gun on us, saving us from certain death as he then gave us time to escape, letting us both get back to our motorcycles, which we promptly used to get away, speeding as quickly as possible down into the aquaducts, where we know our way round pretty well. Leading the cop on a long chase, we soon became very knowledgeable of the fact that our bikes are nowhere near as fast as the truck the cop was chasing us in, meaning we very nearly got hit by it. Long story short, the man from before saved the two of us, before explaining to us what exactly is happening.

Having been in John's close friend circle for most of our time together, the information I learnt was not too surprising; a cyborg (the cop) has been sent back in time from the future to kill him, so he can't lead the resistance against a future mechanized army, a T-1000 made of liquid metal, though another cyborg, a T-800 this time, has been sent back to save him. Having established this, we quickly found that our foster parents had been murdered by the T-1000, leaving the two of us mostly parentless, though John still has his mother, who we broke out of a mental institute last night. And now here we are, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, sheltering with a friend of her's called Enrique.

The sound of steady footsteps draws me from my reverie, my head snapping round as I notice the T-800 walking towards me, it's expressionless face mostly in shadow now because of the setting sun. Turning to face him, I pick up the gun components once more and start methodically putting them back together again, trying to ignore him as he comes up to me, annoyed that my mind has formed an attachment to the handsome cyborg already within two days of knowing him.

"You have experience in the use of firearms." It's not a question, but rather a statement, the cyborg's deep, accented voice resonating in my ears.

"My parents, my real parents that is, were fugitives. They showed me how to use weapons from as young as I could hold them. They thought I needed to be ready to protect myself." I laugh dryly, "I never thought they'd actually be right about something."

"This will be useful in the war." He states tonelessly, watching as I slot the magazine back into the stock, loading it ready for immediate use.

"If I make it that far." I murmur, putting the assembled gun back down on the table, turning my body to properly face him, "Did you need something?"

"No. I am trying to learn "small talk". John Connor has told me to be more human, and that is what he recommends." He reveals, standing beside me, his body towering over mine.

"Oh, right, well that's fair game, I guess." I smile, knowing that the bond between my foster brother and the cyborg has grown quickly, which is unsurprising given the willingness to learn on both of their behalf.

"What is "fair game"?" The T-800 looks over at me, brow furrowed slightly.

Stuck for words, I try to figure out how to explain it, only to be distracted by the sight of two of the younger members of the group already living here making out a little way away. Clenching my jaw, I look down at my feet, a pang of jealousy making itself known.

"Its a figure of speech. I use it to clarify whether I think something is a relatively good idea or not." I finally answer him, unable to resist another look at the couple, which he catches and follows.

"Why do you kiss?" He inquires again, watching unashamedly as the couple make out passionately.

"You mean people? People kiss when they are romantically involved with each other, or if they want to reassure each other. It's a sign of love. Not that I'd know." I say the last part quietly, hoping he won't hear it, "Get it?"

"No."

I smile sadly at this, not really expecting him to understand it, given that it is an extension of human affection, something which he does not really know how to do.

"Maybe one day." I say to him wistfully, leaning back against the table behind me.

"Affirmative. I will understand when I have a concept of human behaviour." He states, turning back to face me, standing much closer than before, "What is wrong?"

I look up as he asks this, having been staring at the floor dejectedly, trying to think up whether there will be a "one day" or not. I've always been a pessimist, but situations like this do not help.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just a little...down, I guess." I explain to him, sighing.

He frowns, clearly confused by the terminology.

"Down meaning sad in this context." I inform the T-800, clarifying what I mean.

A look of understanding dawns on his face, before a look of deep concentration replaces it. Suddenly, he steps forwards, caging me into the table, his hands coming to rest on my hips, pulling me into his hard body. Instinctually, my hands move to lay themselves on his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath them move as he picks me up and places me onto the table behind me, pressing closer. Before I can say a word, I feel his lips smooth themselves against mine, their cool, dry surfaces moulding with mine as I reciprocate out of instinct, enjoying the feeling of him kissing me as he wraps his hands around my body. Somehow, he manages to draw my mouth open, slipping his tongue into it to lick at the interior of my mouth, swallowing my moans and grunts of air, his hands slipping under my shirt and onto my bare skin. Arching into him, I card my fingers through his hair, pulling gently as he presses even closer, his abnormal strength pushing me down onto the table beneath me, his muscular arms caging me in underneath his huge body. Propping myself up on my elbows, I try to keep up with him, only to fall back as he pulls away and starts kissing down my neck, easily finding my sweet spot. Licking and sucking at it, he allows his hands to roam over my body to my ass, gripping it gently as he holds me close to his chest.

"What in the hell are you doing?!" John's voice suddenly cuts through the haze of pleasure, drawing my attention away from the T-800, who stops what he is doing to look at the boy, helping me upright again as he answers.

"I am reassuring (Y/n). She told me that kissing is a form of reassurance to people." He recites, looking over at me again, his eyes slightly less dead than normal.

"Generally those kisses don't look like that." John points out, looking slightly disgusted as I try to adjust myself again, embarrassed and flustered as hell.

"What do they look like, then? My files show that that is normal."

"Normal for people who are in love! For other people, it tends to be a quick kiss on the forehead, or cheek!" The boy continues to argue.

"If it makes you feel any better, John, then I feel a lot more relaxed now. It worked really well." I interject, shyly, looking down with my cheeks flushing red.

"Then it is a successful method." The T-800 says, clearly confused.

John goes to reply again, only to be cut off by the sound of a car door slamming. Turning, we see Sarah suddenly climb into the corresponding car, the engine starting as she puts it into drive, not looking back as she leaves the camp, John racing after her, screaming for her.

"Don't try kissing him to reassure him. I don't think it will work for him." I inform the cyborg beside me, smiling up at him as he gives me his own version of one, though it looks much more like a grimace than a smile.

"That is fair game."

#terminator 2 #terminator imagine #terminator #T-800 #T-800 x reader #arnold schwarzenegger

[seattlesea]

Percy Jackson Characters as High School Students

Percy: -Waits for the last minute to do an assignment -Is captain of the swim team -Always has Annabeth tutor him when he doesn’t understand something -Dozes off a lot in class -Studies the night before a test but studies hard (he has a lot of good study tips from Annabeth) -Goes to the bathroom at least twice every class cause he drinks so much water -Seems like the slacker troublemaker who will fail every class but he actually works hard and does all his work so he can get into a good college with Annabeth -Friends with everyone in his class -Never raises his hand but usually knows the answer -Has a label as a trouble-maker but hasn’t ever actually done anything bad and tries hard to break himself away from that label

Annabeth: -In all honors and AP classes -Works the hardest out of everyone -Always asks for extra credit even though she has a 5.0 GPA and gets good grades on every test and assignment -Likes to read and study in the library -Everyone goes to her when they’re stuck on something and she’s always willing to help -The one to read in math class -Daydreams about random things during lessons she already knows everything about -Does quite a few extracurricular  -Leader and founder of the school’s book club -Usually has a hot chocolate or coffee with her

Jason: -Captain of the football team -The Golden Boy -Half the class loves him cause he’s so nice and the other half hate him cause he’s such a teacher’s pet -Never breaks the rules or cheats -Nice to everyone and studies hard -Sucks at science -But he’s pretty good at math -Loves gym class -The one to tell people (especially Percy, Thalia, and Leo) to focus when they’re goofing off in class -Super inclusive and will always invite someone who’s sitting or working alone to join him

Piper: -That one kid in class everyone knows but isn’t super popular -Pretty decent GPA but doesn’t want a formal job -Does the best in history class -Chews gum super loudly in class -Uses ten different colored pens for notes -Has a bunch of stickers on all her notebooks and folders -Focuses in class most of the time but will sometimes doze off -Studies well but doesn’t care that much about education -Overall a good student but not the best in some classes -That one girl every guy has a crush on but she doesn’t want to make any new friends cause she’s never sure if they like her for her or for her money

Frank: -The Softie -Everyone loves him, including teachers -Will apologize like he stepped on a puppy if he misses one assignment -Studies really hard but sometimes doesn’t get the lesson -Loves being tutored by Annabeth, she’s one of the only ones who can explain the lesson without making it confusing -Participates in a bunch of extracurricular and sports -Can’t do math for shit -Would never cheat even if his life depended on it -Nice to everyone but won’t hesitate to get all up in a bully’s face -Brings a bunch of snacks to class and shares with everyone

Hazel: -Participates in all the plays and musicals (and usually gets the starring role, she’s a great actress and singer) -Super nice to everyone and people try to take advantage of that but she’s actually tough as hell and her motto is ‘Do no harm but take no shit’ but overall she’s a literal gem (pun intended) -Usually sits in the back but always raises her hand when a teacher asks a question and won’t hesitate to ask a question when she’s confused -Actually super smart and loves reading and does really well in her classes -Loves history class -In French class but it’s super confusing for her cause she grew up learning Louisiana French, not France French -Has a super organized desk, backpack, and locker and all her notes are super neat and pretty -Writes in cursive all the time -Focuses a lot but tends to daydream when the lesson is too boring -Loves listening to music and chewing on ice and pencils while she’s working and studying

Leo: -Can’t pay attention for shit -But he’s extremely smart so he gets good grades in everything, especially math -People are surprised when he gets a 100% on the test almost everyone failed and he always gets accused of cheating -Always willing to help tutor people in math -Fidgets a lot and taps his pen furiously on the desk while taking a test -Always cracks jokes and is the class clown and the teachers secretly love him even though he’s their worst nightmare -The one to put gum under the desks -Doesn’t focus in class but studies super hard and might miss one or two assignments when he’s busy or stressed out and is in all Honors and AP classes -In a bunch of different after-school groups -On the basketball team

Reyna: -Also super smart and seems super intimidating but is actually really approachable and nice and loves helping people who are stuck -Gets good grades in pretty much everything and is one of the smartest in the class and is also in all Honors and AP classes -On the football team and loves gym class (especially weight-lifting class) -Usually quiet and serious but will joke around like Leo during lunch and study hall -Whenever someone’s too shy to ask a question to the teacher, they go to her or she asks the teacher for them -Will punch a bully in the face without question -Everything she has is super organized and neat, especially her handwriting -The best at group projects and everyone chooses her to be in their group first but she’ll always pick Nico over them -Comforts stressed out students, gives the best mom hugs, and even brings them coffee and breakfast at times -Always has a coffee with her that she’s willing to share with anyone along with any snacks she brings and as the Mom Friend she often brings snacks to class to share with everyone

Nico: -The one kid that’s still emo in 2021 -Super quiet but focuses and studies really hard  -Tries his best to get good grades but since he missed the last century or so has a lot to catch up on with math, science, history, etc. and Reyna and Annabeth are always willing to help him -Mixes energy drinks and coffee -Is also- along with Reyna- a great comforter for stressed out students -The teachers worry for him cause he’s so quiet and reclusive but really he’s in a great place, he just doesn’t like social interaction -Does his homework last minute or at 3 AM -Wears a bunch of pride merch to school and sends death glares to anyone who looks at him weird (so will Reyna, Jason, and Hazel) -Studies for finals three weeks before they arrive -Mostly in regular classes but in one or two Honors

Thalia: -The punk and basic trouble-maker -Every teacher hates her but all the students love her cause she’s so hilarious, rebellious, and badass -Won’t hesitate to point out a teacher’s bullshit (‘The bell doesn’t dismiss us my ass it’s called the dismissal bell Karen’) -Gets into fights a lot -All the teachers want to bust her but they can never catch her in the act -Vandalizes the school on a daily basis -Pretty smart but doesn’t bother with the work or focusing even if she knows she can -Though she does have pretty decent grades cause Reyna forces her to do the work -Will protect any and every student against a rude teacher or staff member no matter what -On the track team and is a super fast runner

Rachel: -Art nerd (and theater nerd) -Participates with Hazel in the school’s plays and musicals -The best in art class and can do Van Gogh-level paintings -Always brings iced tea and a variety of fruits to class -Skips lunch to draw and paint more in the library -Friends with pretty much everyone and spoils her friends with super cool and expensive school supplies -The most popular besides Jason -Above average intelligence and does really well in her classes, loves helping others and has a really good GPA, is in quite a few Honors and AP classes, and studies and works hard -The only one who can actually focus but will get distracted with sketching random things (especially things in the class) often -All her notes are super colorful and pretty with a bunch of drawings in the margins and she drew all over her notebooks, folders, and backpacks and will sometimes unintentionally draw really detailed drawings all over the desks

#heroes of olympus #demigods #high school #high school au #students #percy jackson #annabeth chase #jason grace #frank zhang #hazel levesque #leo valdez #reyna ramirez arellano #reyna avila ramirez arellano #nico di angelo #thalia grace #rachel dare #rachel elizabeth dare #should i write a fanfic #or would that be cliche

[pi-cat000]

FMA:B/BNHA Crossover (2)

Summary: Ed gets stuck in the BNHA world after the end of brotherhood. He starts trying to find a way home and ends up inadvertently working for the league of villains.

Part 1 here

..

..

At one point, the ground level of Ed’s building had probably been a nice-looking shopfront, maybe a flower shop or grocers or something more befitting this weird world…like a tech repair store.  Now, the ground level doubles as apartment space, large windows caked with dust and grime, curtains permanently drawn to hide its occupancy. Heck, if Ed hadn’t been around to fix the glass with alchemy the ground floor would have been pretty much unliveable. Like many buildings in the area, it was a victim of a villain/hero confrontation which always seemed to generate an obscene amount of property damage. Great for leveraging his repair skills in exchange for free accommodation and about nothing else. Not that the people here saw it as much of a problem.

Ed scowls, flipping his OPEN sign to CLOSED, yanking the door shut, locking up as he goes.

Ed doesn’t quite understand the whole thing, and he had had one of the worst track records for property damage when it came to state alchemists. The difference being that he had always returned to reverse as much of the alchemical damage as he could and if he couldn’t Mustang had some other military alchemist/personal waiting in the wings to see to the problem. Rebuilding here was the responsibility of some external agency or other. Ed is a little hazy on how the system was supposed to work, seeing as the military had little to no involvement with anything hero related. Though, considering how the Amestrian military had been in the process of feeding the souls of its citizens to a loosely defined truth God, maybe that was a good thing. Honestly, researching how this place ran its bureaucracy was low on his priority list.

“Hey! Ed! You’re out early? Off somewhere interesting?”  

“Did you see the guy who just came through here,” he asks, eyeing his fellow apartment-liver who seemed to have nothing better to do than loiter outside and yell at people on the street. The greasy-haired man is puffing smoke near the corner of the building with his two equally scruffy friends. They all have a physical abnormally, a lizard tail, claws, bulging eyes, that remind him uncomfortably of chimeras despite knowing it was a result of more quirk bullshit.

The guy blows smoke in his direction, “Big, tall dude? Pretty suspicious looking with the hood and all. I saw him go in. Didn’t see him leave …funny that.”

“Yeah…funny…” Ed mutters, “Did you recognise him?”

“I might have.”

Ed huffs, rolling his eyes and continues down the road. He would leave bribing his neighbours for possible information as a last resort.

He passes the vacant lot holding a near identical half-collapsed block, followed by another nicer looking building, then another, before they gave way to shops and smaller structures. That was something he was still getting used to…the sheer scale of the city. Even Central had barely been a quarter of this city’s size. Luckily, his destination isn’t too far so he doesn’t have to worry about getting lost.  

The building he arrives at is taller than the rest and full of office space. The main lift is out of order so Ed trudges up three flights of stairs to the top floor, stomping into the empty reception/waiting area only hesitating for a second before slamming his hand onto the bell sitting atop the front desk.

There is a muffled voice, “I’m coming. I’m coming. No need for that racket!”

The door behind the desk swings open.

“Edward?”

“Hey, old man,” he gives a small wave, “It’s been a few weeks.”

The man, tall, well-built, cropped brown hair, stares at Ed.

“Yeah it’s been a few weeks! You need to check your phone and answer your messages every now and then. You’re giving me grey hairs. More grey hairs!”

“Right…my phone….” He forgot he had it when not using it to help with navigation. Also, messaging was a pain. He had picked up the local spoken language fast enough out of necessity, but his reading and writing were still a work in progress. Lucky for him, this reality had a few languages similar enough to Amestrian that if he really wanted to read something he could get a translation. It still made written communication tricky.

“I'll try and check it more often," he placates, "I’m here for some information about a job I was offered and seeing you know a bunch of the local businesses I thought I would drop by.”

“Information?” Masao Uraraka lets out a long breath, “And there I went thinking that you were going to take me up on my apprenticeship offer.”

Ed shoves his hands into his pockets, shrugging. The older man grunts, “Well come on through. You’re lucky you caught me in the office. I’m usually on-site supervising about this time. But, can’t do much of that until those idiots at HC Construction.co get the go-ahead from their insurance company.”

Ed slips past and into a dimly lit office space which is surprisingly well organised. Across the wall is a collage of family photos, depicting a woman and young girl at various stages of growth.

“…that’s not your problem though. How have you been kid? Hope you haven’t been in too many fights.”

“Hey,” he objects, “Some idiots need a good punch,” and then adds a little less aggressively, “But no. No fights. I’ve been researching quirks....”

“Quirks. That’s different? Weren't you studying chemistry or something?”

Ed shrugs again, unwilling to divulge much else. Uraraka tended to be nosey out of some misguided notion that he could help Ed ‘get back on his feet’ after whatever tragic backstory he had cooked up for him.

“You’re still living at Old Man Watanabe’s right? He not pulling anything is he? Old coot always tries to weasel more out of his deals.”  

Ed can’t help but agree,  “He’s been trying to get me to re-wire the whole building. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

Of course, this just sets Uraraka off on a round of angry muttering, “Is that right? I can have a talk with him. I’ve told him that he needs an electrician and a proper plumber. He owes me a few favours so I can… ”

“It’s fine,” Ed quickly interrupts. Uraraka had his own problems and family to look after. The guy reminded him of Hughes in that he cared way too much. “One grumpy landlord isn’t worth worrying about.”

Uraraka visibly deflates, “Yes, well, most kids your age shouldn’t be worried about that sort of stuff at all. You should be finishing up your schooling, getting your Japanese up to scratch and studying for college entrance exams. You remind me of my daughter. Stubborn.” He pulls a framed photo from his desk, pointing it at Ed, shaking it for emphasis, “She wants to be a Hero you know. A HERO! Can you believe it! My cute little girl, getting into fights with villains.”

Ed clears his throat awkwardly. Yeah, this guy was definitely this world’s weird version of Hughes. If Hughes had worked in construction and had, you know, not died. This isn’t the first time he has had a picture of Ochako, Uraraka’s daughter, shoved in his face.

“About that information?” He cautiously interrupts and gets another sigh.

“Yes, yes. You kids are always so impatient. What’s this job then? What idiot is going around hiring 16-year-olds.”

“Actually, the guy that came in just mentioned some construction work,” Ed rubs his neck, now slightly subconscious, realising he doesn’t have a whole lot to go on, “he didn’t give me a lot of details, just left this.” Ed pulls out the envelope placing it on the desk next to the assortment of framed photographs and scribbly kid drawings.

With a raised brow, Uraraka pulls it towards him, peering in. The man’s eyes widen and he closes the envelope, frowning, “This supposed to be a down payment in advance of a job, or is it for material costs? Because it’s a bit much for a down payment and nowhere near enough for materials. Not if it’s for anything serious. What sort of work is it? You know I can’t lend you equipment without a licence…but I’ll help you source anything that you…”

“No,” Ed rushes to interrupt, “the guy said it was a sign of goodwill. I take it that’s not a normal thing people do in the, ah, construction business?”

“No. It definitely is not,” Uraraka now looks concerned, “there would usually be a contract for services before any sort of payment. Especially, if you’re going to be working as an independent contractor.”

So that just confirmed what he already knew. Ed continues, “So you haven’t heard about people asking around for under the table construction work then?”

“No. I can ask a few of my freelancers if they’ve had similar offers but I deal above the board with licenced workers only, so it’s unlikely they’ll have heard anything.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He glares at the envelope.

“What did he look like? This man that came in?”

“Oh, he was tall, made of dark purple smoke and had a teleportation quirk…I think. He also asked about my quirk and its limits.”

“I’ll keep an ear out.”  Uraraka promises and frowns at Ed, “I hope you’re not considering this offer.”

Ed grunts noncommittally and gets a look of disapproval that reminds him so much of Hughes its almost painful. He tries not to feel disappointed at the lack of answers because coming to Uraraka had always been a long shot. ‘You’re sad, lonely and the only conversations you’ve had this last week were yelling matches with your landlord and neighbours. Uraraka is a nice man. Of course, you would come to him for advice.’ A voice that sounds suspiciously like Al chimes in. ‘I don’t want him to worry. I’m not staying here long. What’s he going to think when I suddenly disappear,’ he snaps back and immediately feels foolish.

Maybe the isolation is getting to him a bit.

“If it's money you need that I’m more than happy to help you get licenced and certified…” Uraraka continues to talk oblivious to the fact that Ed is barely paying attention.

He doesn’t want to settle down and get a popper job or finish off his schooling or talk to youth services or whatever other things Uraraka had brought up in the few months they had known each other. That would be admitting defeat. Also, he had no ID or history and he was pretty sure you needed both to work any legitimate jobs.

“I can handle myself,” he says out loud.

“Yes, you’re worryingly self-sufficient but there is a difference between unlicensed quirk use and aiding and abetting criminals. No self-respecting, above board, organisation hires a kid to do construction work and throws a bunch of money at them.”

“I know.”

Yeah, he knows Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious was probably a criminal of this reality. He knows he is probably getting himself into something dicey and illegal but he needs to follow whatever lead he can to get back home. Finding a quirk with either the ability to transport him between realities or one with the power equivalent to a few thousand souls was his last hope of ever hearing Al's, the real Al’s, voice again.

The older man rubs his forehead, visibly exasperated, “But you’re going to ignore me. Stubborn brat.”

#fma brotherhood #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma:b #bnha #mha #fanfiction #CrossOver #edward elric #Uraraka family #dimension travel AU #my hero academia #fanfic

[beautiful-bau-beau]

Could you please write an imagine where the reader is a waitress that Reid has fallen in love with, and he's been trying to keep it a secret from the team but they find out about her and insist on coming to the restaurant with him to meet her and they tease him a lot about it but it's okay cause she's in love with him too and she finds the whole thing hilarious and adorable and they end up together.

Wax Wings

You can read it as a stand-alone, but it’s a part 2 to Couldn’t Help But Melt!

Spencer Reid x gender nuetral!reader

Contains: Fluff

Masterlist

-

After you had given him your number, he had tried his hardest not to call. He knew that if he blew you off you would most likely never speak to him again and therefore, be safe. You would be able to live a life without having to worry about his safety, growing angry at missed dates or appointments, fearing going out in public just in case you ran into a criminal. 

Yet, despite the hard facts, his heart had somehow taken control of his brain and caused him to throw caution to the wind. It had only been a day of resisting temptation before his fingers pressed your number into keypad of his flip phone, and he cursed at how easily he was willing to endanger your life. But as soon as his ears were met with your buttery voice, he knew he was a damn fool not to call you earlier. 

Your first date was one for the books. What you had interpreted as “going to the theatre” turned out to be a reenactment of the 19 century Phantasmagoria. 

“Oh. I thought when you meant theatre it was supposed to be a play of some sort.” You looked around the lobby of the theatre as Spencer handed the teller his tickets.

“Well, technically, it is. It’s a form of horror theatre that projects skeletons, demons, ghosts and other such creatures onto walls, with techniques that make the image easy to move around or to change size. The shows started under the guise of seances in the late 18th century, particularly in Germany but gained popularity in the 19th century all throughout Europe. Some shows even use certain smells, electric shock, fasting, or drugs to enhance the experience for the viewer.” He caught your questioning glance and pinked, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Not that this show practices any of those methods, you are completely safe, I swear.“ 

You started to laugh, covering your mouth with your hands as to not draw too much attention to yourself. Spencer watched you nervously, wondering if he had done something wrong.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked first if this would be something you’re interested in before purchasing the tickets but I was just…. overhasty, I guess, at your request to plan the date. Looking at it now… this seems as if it is not the most romantic gesture I could have planned.” His cheeks pinked and he started to panic. “We can go somewhere else. Anywhere else!” He offered, surprised at you shaking your head.

“Spencer, no one I’ve ever dated has ever brought me to anything quite like this. This seems so much fun! And hey, if I get scared you can do that cheesy thing where you wrap your arm around me, hmm?” You smiled, taking his hand in yours. “Lead the way!”

Spencer’s mouth twitched, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you right where you stood, but there was time for that. He couldn’t rush. He squeezed your hand softly, tugging you inside the dark theatre to find your seats.

Eventually Spencer had given you that toe-curling, leg-popping, dreamy kiss that he had wanted to, and from then on, your relationship was like a dream. Of course there were the days where you had the late shift and he was out of town, sometimes for weeks at a time, but as soon as the two of you reunited it was as if he never left. 

You had been dating him for quite a few months now, but still had yet to say those three little words. There was the issue of not meeting any of his friends or coworkers, whom he spoke so much about. It made you wonder if he was ashamed of you, a lowly waitress dating a Supervisory Special Agent of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.  

Turns out it was quite the opposite.

-

“Suspect is on the move.” Prentiss whispered to her phone as she stalked the subject in question. “He doesn’t seem to be in any rush. Perhaps we’re mistaken?”

“Prentiss you know as well as I that our margin for error is quite small.” Hotchner replied, irritation lacing his tone. “Garcia, Morgan, you got eyes on the victim?”

“We have eyes.” Derek confirmed. He and Garcia were posing as a couple as to not arouse suspicion. 

“How about you, JJ? Rossi?" 

"We can see Emily, and the suspect.” Rossi replied adjusting his position in the car he and JJ were sitting in. 

“Great, I’m on my way to the rendezvous point. Meet you all there.” Hotchner commanded, effectively ending the call. 

“They’re pretty.” Garcia lowered the menu in front of her to meet Morgan’s eyes. “I am still so frustrated at the fact that Spencer kept the fact that he had a significant other hidden from his very best friends! What are we, just co-workers? The nerve!” She hissed, quieting once she saw you approach the table.

“Are we ready to order?” You plastered on your customer service smile, pen and paper ready to jot down their orders.

“Actually, we’re just waiting on more members of our party.” Morgan explained, craning his neck to eye the door. The pair had chosen a large table near the back of the restaurant to stay out of sight. “But I’ll take a water, please.”

“Me too!” Garcia chimed, trying to take in all the details of your appearance. You nodded, placing your notepad back in your apron.

“No problem! I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.” You swiftly turned on your heel, almost bumping in to a tall, broad man. You muttered an apology, heading back to the kitchen.

“Is that them?” Hotchner asked, pulling out a chair next to Morgan.

“It has to be, they’re the only person who’s working that doesn’t have a wedding ring on their finger. Unless Spencer proposed and didn’t tell us that as well!” Garcia fumed.

“Baby girl, I don’t think Spencer would be the type to propose without telling us.” Morgan tried to calm her but she clearly wasn’t having any of it.

“Who knows what he’s capable of hiding? What next, a secret love child?” She whispered, lifting her menu back up.

“JJ and Rossi decided to pass Prentiss, whose ETA is 7 minutes.” Hotchner ignored Garcia’s ramblings, picking up a menu for himself and surveying the options. “They should be here…” The automated doorbell chimed as the pair entered the diner. “Now.”

“Penelope,” JJ approached the group, taking a seat next to the woman and placing a comforting hand on her back. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve decided he’s uninvited for my Winter Solstice party. And Christmas. And New Years. If I find out he’s lying about anything else he will not be receiving an invitation for my Valentine’s Day Soiree, that’s for damn certain.”

“Don’t be too harsh on the kid.” Rossi chuckled, scanning the perimeter. “So who’s exactly our "victim” here?“ He lifted his fingers, finding the usage of police jargon in this case quite hilarious.

Morgan turned, eyes catching your figure. "2 o'clock. My 2 o'clock." 

"When you turn to face them we both have the same 2 o'clock.” JJ sighed, passing Rossi a menu.

“Good for Spencer.” He whistled, reaching for the booklet when his phone buzzed. “Prentiss says he’s walking through the door.” The chime went off again, prompting the team to quickly pick up their menus to cover their faces.

“Hey!” You greeted, giving him a swift peck on the cheek before he sat on one of the stools at the counter. “It’s a little busy tonight but I should be off in…15 minutes? Then we can head to dinner." 

"That’s alright, I’m in no hurry.” Spencer smiled, leaning his head on his fist, staring at you with that wistful gaze that made your heart melt.

“I’ll be back! If you want anything, let me know.” You ruffled his hair, grabbing a water jug from the counter and heading back to the crowded tables. 

Prentiss came in through the side entrance, not wanting Spencer to spot her accidentally. She shrugged off her coat and took the last empty chair, quickly hiding her face with a menu. 

“2 o'clock.” JJ nudged, tilting her chin in your direction. Prentiss took a moment to eye your figure before nodding to herself. Good for Spence.

“Garcia?” Prentiss mumbled.

“Uninvited from Winter Solstice, Christmas, New Years, and maybe Valentine’s Day.”

“Sound about right.” Prentiss assessed. “He’ll be paying for this for a long time." 

"Hello!” You chirped startling the team, filling Morgan’s and Garcia’s glasses with ice water. “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

While waiting for you, Spencer was lost in thought, wondering exactly how he was going to tell you that he loved you over dinner. Should it be before we order? During the meal? Perhaps he would tell you before you even reached the restaurant, in your apartment while he waited for you to get changed. He wanted it to be perfect.

Of course, he realized, as much as he wanted to tell you, he was aware that something was missing. You had introduced him to all your friends, and he had yet to do the same. He was unsure of how to tell the team after so long. They would be furious if he broke the news he was dating someone after months of being in a relationship, so he kept putting it off. This was only adding to the problem, but he was unsure of what to do. He figured he could tell Morgan soon enough, see how he reacted, and then tell each of the team individually.

Your cheerful voice brought him out of his stupor and he searched to find you. You wore a smile, but were clearly antsy to get off your shift. He was about to turn back to the counter when he observed that a man from the table you were at almost looked like Hotchner.

Wait a minute… that was Hotchner!

What are they doing here?! Spencer thought, leg starting to jiggle against the metal framework of the stool. He waited until after you poured their respective waters, took their orders, and collected their menus before heading over to the table.

“What are you guys doing here?” He hissed, resting his hands on the table.

“Excuse me sir, do we know you?” Prentiss asked, crossing her arms. “You almost look like a friend of ours, but that friend wouldn’t hide the fact that he’s in a relationship, now would he Garcia?”

“Well, our associate is so complicated… who knows what he’s capable of.” Penelope raised her brows, giving him a pointed glance.

“So you guys…”

“We already figured out Y/n is your partner. Morgan brought up your irregular behavior, and Garcia looked through your credit card reports to find that you spend an awful lot of time at this place. Prentiss informed us that you have started exiting the subway at a different stop than usual, not to mention, facial recognition scanners from a social media account one can assume is Y/n’s… it was not that hard to put all the pieces together.” Hotchner explained, taking a sip from his glass.

“When were you planning on telling us, young man?” Rossi asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Soon! I swear I just… I didn’t know how to tell you guys.” Spencer admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“ ‘Hey JJ, I have a girlfriend,’ might have been a good place to start.” The blonde female pointed out, sighing.

“It’s not as simple as that I-”

“Spence?” You asked, approaching the table. “Do you uh, know these folks?”

“Oh, Y/n! Hi! Yeah I know these people…” Spencer smiled, clearly caught off guard.

“And how exactly do you know my lovely customers?” You gestured with your hand for him to explain.

“Y/n… um… these are… these are my friends. They were so excited to meet you, they rushed down here without telling me. I know you’ve been asking to meet them… so here they are.” Your expression instantly changed, a genuine smile overtaking your face. Garcia went to interject, when Rossi raised his hand. Play along.

“You work at the BAU with Spence? I’m so happy to meet you guys! I just- We were going to go to dinner… What if we just stayed here? I should be able to get off, and I won’t even have to change!” You gave Spencer a pleading look, and he nodded. At least he hadn’t made reservations… 

The rest of the evening was spent in laughter, you getting to talk to each member of the team and hear work stories that weren’t related to cases. After you had all parted ways, Spencer offered to walk you home.

“And that one story Aaron told about your "science-magic”? Priceless! You looked so embarrassed.“ You laughed into the night sky, breath forming cloudy puffs as you spoke. Your hands were intertwined, and Spencer felt his heart stutter.

"I’m so glad you finally introduced me to your friends! I thought… well, I was wondering why it was taking so long to get a proper introduction.” You mumbled.

“I’m sorry I just… I didn’t tell them we had started to date. At first, you were this secret I wanted to keep all to myself. But then weeks turned to months and then I found myself falling n love with you and it felt so wrong to just spring it on the team that I had met this amazing person and fell in love when they didn’t even realize I was dating yet.” He explained.

“You love me?” You asked, stopping where you stood.

“I uh, what?” He laughed, backpedaling his speech until he realized what you were referring to. “Oh um… I wanted to tell you tonight, over dinner. This is perhaps the opposite of how I wanted to tell you actually, I mean, there were going to be candles, and breadsticks- I know how much you like breadsticks and I- oomph!” Spencer’s ramblings were cut short when you pulled him into your embrace, kissing him softly.

“I love you too, Spencer.” You smiled as you pulled apart. “I love you too.”

—-

buzz buzz

“Hey baby girl what’s-”

“He told them he loved them!” Garcia’s rushed cries echoed throughout the receiver. “He told them he loved them and told me so he could invite them as his plus one to all the parties! Derek, Derek! This is huge.” Morgan softly chuckled on the other end of the line.

“Well… what do you know?”

#Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid x Reader #Spencer Reid x Reider #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid imagines #Spencer Reid/Reader #Spencer Reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fanfictions #Spencer reid fanfiction #reader-insert #beautiful-bau-beau #beautiful bau beau #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagines #Criminal minds x reider #Criminal Minds fanfictions #Criminal minds imagine #Criminal Minds reader insert #Criminal Minds x reader #Criminal minds/reader #gender-neutral reader-insert #gender neutral

[heliads]

The Watching Hawk Chapter 1: Case File

Bucky Barnes is constantly haunted by his past, but the memories of his days as a Winter Soldier will come into a new light in the form of the Watching Hawk, his old HYDRA partner. Will he be able to trust her, and will she be able to move on from his mistakes?

series masterlist / next

The hum of the air conditioning is a distant sound as Bucky Barnes stares down at the closed case file in front of him. “You know, you don’t have to take this one on.” His best friend of several decades, Steve Rogers, leans against a wall in front of him. His voice is drenched in concern, like Bucky is a delicate man who could be set off by anything. “I know your relations with HYDRA,” Steve continues, “And if you think this will be a bad idea, it’s fine to stand down.” Bucky looks up at Steve again, then at Natasha and Sam, standing next to him. “I’ll be fine.”

Steve looks at him one more time, a searching look. Some days Bucky swears the Super Soldier Serum that made Steve Captain America must also have given him the ability to read minds. It wouldn’t surprise him if Steve’s been peering inside his head every time he sees Bucky. Steve nods slowly and continues on. “Alright. We don’t have a lot of information on the target, so we wanted to see if you knew anything. You know, from your days as a Winter Soldier.”

That piques Bucky’s curiosity, and so he finally flips open the manilla file folder in front of him. The only thing in the folder is a single, blurry image, but the sight of a woman framed by great arched metal wings in the photo is enough to elicit a sharp gasp from him. “I’m in. I’ll take the mission.”

Instantly, Steve leans forward. “You know her?” Bucky’s laugh is as harsh as a winter night. “Know her? I’m the reason HYDRA has her in the first place.” Bucky clears his throat, as snippets of memories long gone flash by him. He doesn’t remember much about what happened while he was under HYDRA’s influence- the mind control and rigorous programming was enough to erase anything and everything from him. Over the months after Bucky left, bits and pieces have started coming back to him, including the identity of this young woman.

“It was a warm summer afternoon. She was just coming home from work. She didn’t have the metal wings by then, they were still the natural feathers. She kept them hidden under her jacket so no one could tell she was an inhuman. She said hello to a neighbourhood kid, smiled at a passerby on a bike while she was getting the mail, and went into her house. When she saw the HYDRA agents waiting for her in the living room, she was able to defend herself using her wings and her fighting abilities. She took out all the soldiers, so they sent in me.”

Bucky pauses then, as he waits for the pieces of the memory to fall back into place. He hasn’t thought about that day in a long time, and he’s not sure if he really wants to. “She was strong, even without the wings, but in the end, I was able to knock her unconscious and take her in. They made her a Winter Soldier. We were often stationed together on operations.”

Natasha looks at him, her face unreadable as always. If he was supposed to be the ultimate soldier, Bucky supposes she would be the ultimate spy. Even after years of training, he can barely get anything out of her.

“When was the last time you had contact with this woman? Is there anything else you can tell us- a name, a weakness?” Bucky frowns up at the sound of Natasha’s voice. “I haven’t seen her since I was still with HYDRA.” He’s not entirely sure when that was- times and dates all melt together into a pool of distant memories when he was under mind control. “What exactly is this mission, and why does it involve her?”

Steve taps at a screen in front of him. It changes to display an image of a well-dressed politician, making his way up marble steps in Capitol Hill. “This is Dominic Cole. He’s a pretty solid politician, as far as politicians go. Unfortunately, he’s got the interest of HYDRA, because he’s about to present a new policy in a week that will allow the government to look into shady business dealings that could expose HYDRA operatives. There’s a pretty good chance it’ll get approved once he presents it, so HYDRA’s sending in a team to take him out. I think this woman, whoever she is, will be on that team.”

Bucky nods slowly. “The Watching Hawk.” Sam looks at him through furrowed brows. “What does that mean?” Bucky places his hands flat on the table in front of him, the photo still staring at him from in between his palms. “That was her codename. The Watching Hawk.”

Bucky tilts his head to the side as he studies the woman in the photograph. He’s not sure how long it’s been since he last saw her- could be months, could be decades. He has no way of knowing, but she still looks the exact same.

 “We were usually partners. They would send in both of us on the more dangerous field ops, the ones where there was basically a guarantee that no normal soldier would come back alive. She was different from me, though- I was under full mind control, and my memory was wiped periodically. They were worried that another brainwashed soldier could join up with the first and revolt against them, so they gave the Hawk her memory. She had free will, and could do whatever she wanted and say as she pleased, as long as it met with the HYDRA expectations. I think there were still some residual mind blocks, guaranteeing she couldn’t leave the premises unless ordered to, and she couldn’t hurt any of the HYDRA soldiers, but she could still think and do whatever she wanted. You’ll have to take that into account when you find her. Other than that, there’s nothing I can remember that you wouldn’t already know from when you tracked me down.”

Steve lets this information sink in, then looks back down at the photo from the case file. “Well, we won’t be able to have one great ‘Remember who you are’ moment like last time, but we should be able to take her down. Natasha, Sam, and I have experience with finding Winter Soldiers, and you know how they think. I think we’ve got as many cards to play as we can.”

Sam interjects. “Also, I’ve got wings too.” At Bucky’s raised eyebrows, he spreads his hands wide. “Look, if she can fly, it’s probably a good idea to have someone on your team who can fly after them, right? I feel like none of you really took that into account.” Steve does his best to smother a smile. “He’s right. We’ve all got our parts to play.” With that, he goes over the plan in more detail, leaving Bucky to question whether or not this will actually work.

Before he knows it, Bucky is watching a digital readout in a surveillance van parked near the Capitol. Dominic Cole, the man they’re supposed to be protecting, is making his way to work. The team decided to let Cole walk to work, seemingly without a guard, in the hopes of drawing out an attack. Steve’s got a theory that if HYDRA’s plan to take out Cole comes to light, they’ll call it off, but Bucky’s not sure if that will work or not. Regardless, here comes Cole, and just like clockwork, here comes a black van barrelling towards him. 

When soldiers dressed in black start racing towards Cole, Natasha springs out of hiding and starts to take them down. Bucky, Sam, and Steve join her, making sure Cole gets to safety before focusing their attention back on the HYDRA soldiers. They’re actually doing a pretty good job of causing a commotion and keeping them at bay, so Bucky supposes he’s not surprised when he sees a winged silhouette walking towards them from the smoky background of the city.

Bucky ducks around the black van, firing at the soldiers as he goes, making sure he’s headed towards the figure. He’s about a few yards away when she finally sees him, and her silvery wings arch up around her. “Well, if it isn’t Sergeant Barnes. I see you have your memory back.” A gun is in her hands before he can even blink, and it’s all Bucky can do to throw himself behind a nearby car to avoid the gunshots. “Less than you’d think.” He comes back from around the car, grabbing a long knife from his side and plunging it towards her unprotected arm as fast as he can. She blocks it, of course, and the two former allies find themselves locked in hand-to-hand combat.

“You can come with me, you know. Leave all of this behind.” The Hawk laughs, loud and incredulously. There’s a note of manic rage that Bucky swears wasn’t there before. “Now that you finally have your tongue, you use it to joke with me? We both know there’s no chance of that.” The fighting halts for a second, both opponents circling each other warily. “We used to talk about leaving, didn’t we? I may not remember much, but I do know that.” The Hawk charges him once more. “You’re so bold now that you’re out of their reach. Do you really think there’s any possibility that I’d go with you?” 

One of the HYDRA soldiers has a pouch full of small explosives, and they’re hurling them at the two fighters. Bucky is forced to duck for cover while still fending off the Hawk’s attacks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is that you once fought by my side, and once dreamed of a world where we could live without HYDRA.” The Hawk scoffs. “They were only dreams, Barnes. You know what you did.”

One explosive lands right by their feet, and the resulting explosion launches them both a few feet back. Bucky scrambles to his feet, noticing that the Hawk is holding her fingers to a scratch running across her arm. Her face is streaked with soot, as he imagines his face is as well. At seeing her like this, dirty and slightly vulnerable, Bucky is thrown back into memories long gone.

“Y/N.” The name rises to his lips, bidden by a time circled by darkness. He had called her that, once, when they were both captive by HYDRA. When she had trusted him, as much as you could trust anyone. When they had fought side by side, and sat even closer on the flights back from the operations to the HYDRA base.

For a second, Bucky swears he saw a glimmer of emotion flash across Y/N’s eyes, as if she too sees what he sees- two soldiers who swore to protect each other from everything, even when they had no more control over what happened to them than an infant.

But just like that, it’s gone, and a snarl of anger rips its way onto Y/N’s face instead.

“I will never forgive you for what you did.”

Before he knows it, the Hawk is gone, leaving Bucky behind in a haze of smoke and shouts of fighting soldiers.

He remembers her name, and he remembers her touch, but the only thing Bucky cannot remember is what he did to cause her such pain.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky series #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader

[winterscaptain]

magic.

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Hard of Hearing Reader

request from @icantswimhalp​: Hi hun! I was hoping you could do a reid fic with a reader who is hard of hearing? It would be really awesome if you did. ❤ a/n: quick disclaimer - i am not d/Deaf or hard of hearing myself, but i do work closely with the d/Deaf community. if anyone has any notes, please send them my way! any errors are my own, and i have done my best to be as accurate and inclusive as possible. rating/words: g / ~1500 no warnings apply!

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!

italics are signs, and anything in “quotes” is spoken aloud. 

+++

Your alarm woke you, the flashing light just as offensive as it was every morning. You smacked it until it turned off and sat up, checking your phone. Two text messages from Spencer. 

6:18am Got a call into work. Didn’t wanted to wake you. Sleep tight and I’ll update when I can. 

10:23am Case is local. We’re still in the office. 

You texted him back right away. 

10:31am Want me to bring lunch? I can order for the team.

When you stood, you put on your smartwatch. It was a Christmas gift from Spencer, and he had Penelope set it up so it would flash with your alarms. It had an app that could transcribe speech in case you didn’t want to read lips, and you couldn’t deny the convenience of the buzzing feature for your texts.

Slipping your sweats on, you padded to the bathroom and brushed your teeth. Your watch buzzed, and you checked it. 

10:33am I’ll send you orders for JJ, Garcia, and Hotch. 

The orders that followed were pretty simple – their favorite sandwiches from their favorite sandwich shop on the way to Quantico. The owners knew you by then, as you always tried to feed the BAU when they were working local cases or stuck in the office with piles of paperwork a mile high. 

For convenience and time, you slipped your hearing aids on to make the phone call. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch, but anything was better than nothing. They needed to hear you more than the other way around, anyways. 

+++

You waved at the owner and her son as you picked up your box. She signed her thanks, and you grinned back at her. She had been exposed to a few signs on the rare occasion that you and Spencer had the opportunity to sit in the little deli and eat at one of the checkered tables. 

+++

The security guards on the first floor were more than happy to help you shuffle lunch through the checkpoint, and they may have stolen a few fries from JJ’s meal.  

By the time you finally made it up the elevator to the BAU, you’d yanked your hearing aid out and threw it in your purse. The building was far too loud, too busy, and it never failed to give you a headache. 

You went to shoulder the glass door open, only to find it held open for you. You smiled at Hotch. With your hands full, you couldn’t sign. You spoke instead. 

“Hey, Hotch.”

Hey! How are you? He looked happy to see you, but you knew him well enough to see the strain behind his eyes. 

“Good,” you said. “Busy morning. Your lunch is in here. How’s Jack?”

Thank you, he signed, gesturing toward the box. Want help?

You shook your head, and he let you lead the way into the office. When you settled in the kitchen area, he propped himself against the counter and started to sign. You unpacked the box, keeping your eyes on Hotch as he signed. 

Jack is good. Doing well in school. He passed his math test last week and will probably be ahead of his classmates next year. 

Wonderful, you signed back. Tell him I’m proud of him. 

Of course. Come to Dave’s next time we’re all there together. The boys love your stories. 

I will, but you’ll need to keep Spencer honest for me so he doesn’t forget. You grinned at him, and he offered a small smile back. Other than Spencer, Hotch was the only confident signer in the unit. You’d become fast friends because of it. Emily was picking it up rather quickly, though she stumbled and got nervous often. Derek was getting better. Last week, he proudly informed you (in adorably broken sign) that he practices with Spencer on the jet on the way home from every case. 

Hotch’s gaze tracked up over your shoulder and he raised his eyebrows. You whirled around. Spencer stood in the doorway, a smile on his face and hands in his pockets. You bounced toward him and he brought you into his arms, keeping one of your hands pressed to his chest. You spelled “Hi” into his hand and felt him laugh. 

He leaned back and met your eyes. Thank you for bringing lunch. This case is crazy. 

Aren’t they all? 

Spencer laughed. True. 

He taught you a few industry specific signs, but serial killer and family annihilator were your favorites because of the faces Spencer made with them. He walked backwards as he told you a few details about the case – ones he could share, anyways. His sandwich was tucked under his arms so his hands were free, and Hotch trailed behind you with his sandwich and JJ’s. 

You sat on his desk and he sat in his chair, your legs hanging over his lap as you ate your lunch. You both had grown out of your aversion to PDA long ago, and were happy to be among your friends for a quick respite. The team always made an effort to regale you with tales of Spencer’s antics in the field whenever possible, and today was no exception. 

“And then he looked at me and said ‘I gave the profile to this one woman and she asked me if I was the unsub.’ I just about died,” Derek said, laughing. They all made sure they were facing you when they spoke, so you could read their lips. Without your hearing aids, they were just a dull thrumming. The direction was easy to pick up, but the content was almost lost entirely. 

JJ said something, and you knew you missed it before she was finished talking.

You glanced down at Spencer, who was watching JJ. He interpreted. 

Spencer did great on that case, Derek. Give him a break. 

You reached out and squeezed Spencer’s shoulder. He looked up at you. 

Thanks. You leaned over and signed at JJ. Hotch voiced your signs. He better be on his best behavior for all cases. Hotch’s glares look tame compared to mine. 

At that, they all laughed and you winked at Spencer. His eyes were more than a little distracting, and you got lost in them for a minute.  

Hotch waved his hand at you to get your attention, and you looked up at him. He signed as he spoke, and you relaxed a little, taking a bite of your sandwich. “That was the same case Spencer used magic to find the unsub.”

You barked a laugh around your bite, absolutely delighted. Really? Magic magic or physics magic?

“Magic magic,” Hotch replied. 

“Okay that’s not,” Spencer looked up at you, continuing to sign. “That’s not what happened. I had to deliver the profile and –“

“The way he was doing it definitely didn’t work,” Derek said.

So what did you do, really? 

You saw Hotch relay your question to the rest of the team. 

“Well,” Spencer started, signing as he spoke, “I managed to deliver the profile using a trick that kept the bartender’s attention while I outlined the key features of the unsub. It wasn’t –“ he huffed, “it wasn’t that ridiculous, all things considered.”

“In fairness,” JJ said, making sure to face you more directly so you could see her mouth as she spoke. “Spence has used magic more than once to help with a case. Remember the train?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and dove into the refuge of your arms. You scooted to the edge of the desk and held him to you, brushing his hair back. It was getting longer, and would probably need a cut soon. 

You felt him say something against you, the vibration of his voice against your hand drawing your attention. Looking up at Hotch with a frown, he helped you out. 

It’s a useful skill, okay?

You laughed, and Spencer held onto you a little tighter. 

The team looked up suddenly in response to something. You watched as Hotch pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hotchner,” you saw him say. After a few seconds, his mouth fell into a grim line.

All at once, the team was in motion. They wrapped their sandwiches and organized their desks, picking up their keys and backpacks on their way. Spencer stood and kissed your forehead, and you took his sandwich off his hands, wrapping it tightly and putting it in your purse. 

Spencer stood in front of you as he clipped his gun to his belt. He took your hand and signed with the other.  

Sorry. 

That’s okay, you replied. Duty calls. Go get the bad guy.

He kissed you, and you leaned into him. 

“I love you,” you said quietly against his mouth. 

He leaned back and met your eyes. I love you too. 

Please be careful. 

Spencer grinned at you. Always. He kissed you once more and bolted out of the bullpen behind Derek, who held the door for him. He threw another smile at you over his shoulder, and you waved at the team as the elevator doors closed.

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @icantswimhalp @octothorpetopus @hurricanejjareau (i dont have a reid tagging list, so i tagged anyone i thought might like it! let me know if you’d like to be added or subtracted!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #tali writes fanfiction

[fossntwriter]

Should’ve Seen That Coming

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary: the second task is only a few days away and Cedric is as nervous as he was for the first one. what happens when you’re not in the stands the morning of the task, but rather below the water?

“Cedric!” You shouted down the nearly desserted hallway, trying to attract the attention of the beautiful brown-haired boy with mesmerizing gray eyes.

He turns around to look who it was that was calling his name and smiled upon seeing you run down the hallway towards him.

He had known you for a long time. The two of you met on your first train ride to Hogwarts. He was a second year, while you were only a first. You two had sat next to each other on the train and got to know the other. By the end of that year, you both knew everything about the other and were attached at the hip.

As your friendship grew through the years, you came to realize how good looking this boy that you called your best friend was. Everyday as you walked through the corridors with him, you saw girls oggling at him with their mouths hanging wide open, attracting flies. It seemed that Cedric never quite noticed how popular he was with the ladies. He never knew he could have any girl (or boy) he ever wanted with the snap of his fingers.

However, he didn’t want all the girls that made googly-eyes at him in the hallway. He wanted you. But he would never tell you that. He never ever thought that you would want to be with him and he never thought that you saw him as anything more than you saw the Weasley Twins: a friend. He convinced himself that you and him were destined to be best friends.

But he never knew of the thoughts you had of him while you were studying. He never noticed the side glances you sneaked of him while he wasn’t looking.

But then again, you never noticed either that he secretly admired you. In every class- his thoughts would drift to you. While he sketched in the Hufflepuff common room, his wandering mind and thoughts of you always seemed to guide his hand into drawing beautiful, detailed portraits of you.

His mind always came back to the thoughts of his beautiful best friend. At every quidditch match- he always made sure to spot you in the stands. A tint of jealousy would grow as he saw you sitting next to a Ravenclaw boy from the year above as he tried to engage you in a conversation, but a sense of pride would overcome him as you tried to politely ignore him and watch the match.

You were his everything, but he didn’t know if you felt the same way.

“Hey (y/n).” Cedric smiled as you finally caught up to him after he stopped for you in the hallway.

“Hey, Ced!” You said enthusiastically, “How’s the egg coming along?”

You weren’t a fan of the fact Cedric was competing in the Triwizard Tournament. It was dangerous and you didn’t want him to get hurt. But you stayed in his corner and supported him though you were just as afraid as him- if not more.

“It’s going pretty good actually,” he responded as you both continued to walk down the hallway towards the Great Hall for lunch, “I’ve figured out the egg but I’m not quite sure exactly what it means.”

You looked at him in confusion, not knowing about the song that the egg emitted when being listened to under water. Cedric saw the complexed expression on your face and started to explain about how he opened it in the prefects bathroom and listened to the song. He shared with you the lyrics about something he valued being at the bottom of the Black Lake.

You hummed in response as he told you the information he discovered about the next task.

“What do you reckon is at the bottom?” You asked as the two of you sat at the Hufflepuff table and started to pile food on your plates.

“I’m not quite sure. It says that something I will most miss is taken from me, but I haven’t noticed anything missing and there’s only two days until the next task.” He said puzzled as he took a scoop of some jelly in front of him.

You were curious too. What could possibly be at the bottom of the Lake?

“Maybe it’s your broomstick?” You brainstormed, “Lord knows you love quidditch, you would definitely miss your broom.”

Cedric laughed and you smiled at the lovely sound. His laugh was deep and made you warm inside at the sound of his happiness. His laugh was one of the best sounds you had ever heard- no matter how cheesy and cliché is sounds.

“I don’t think it’s that.” He said, “My broomstick was just in my trunk last night as I took it out for a polishing.”

“Oh my gosh, you polished your broom even thought this years season has been canceled?” You asked disbelievingly, stifling a laugh and you took a sip of the juice in your goblet.

He smiled and defended himself to you as you two finished lunch.

At the end of the lunch period, Cedric walked you to transfiguration, you both said your goodbyes and he walked off to his next class.

You loved transfiguration, mainly because you liked Professor McGonagall. However, even though you did like this class, your mind did stray off topic during the lecture today as you continued to wonder what Cedric could possibly be facing during the next task in a short couple of days.

——————

In the next day, you and Cedric still had no ideas of what he could be trying to find and rescue from the bottom of the mysterious lake. However, you both were more focused on figuring out a way for Cedric to last an hour under the water.

You two made plans to go to the library and check out books to research something so he could make it past the task.

You both searched the library, and checked a stack of books out each before finding a deserted table near the back of the library so you could focus.

Cedric took the spot across from you and started with what he thought would be the most promising book he checked out. It turned out that it wasn’t the right book after he stopped flipping through it and shoved it off to the side after finding nothing of use to him. You did the same thing with the books on your pile.

After what seemed like hours, you both had gone through over half of your books when you think you had finally found something that he could use.

“Cedric!” You whispered in excitement.

His whipped up from behind the stack of books, his wide eyes trained on you.

“Did you find anything?” He asked, a glint of hope in his voice.

“I think so.” You said, as you turned the book so he could see and read about the bubblehead charm, that would allow him to breathe under the water tomorrow.

“That’ll be perfect! Thank you so much!” He exclaimed, you both getting up to hug each other with relief and excitement fueled by the success of having found something to help Cedric.

You two started to clean up and return the books right before the library was about to close for the night when Professor McGonagall came walking into the library.

“Miss (y/l/n).” She said in an important voice, “Come with me please.”

You were startled. Why would she need you at this hour? It was nearly eight o’clock! Your mind quickly wandered to if you had done anything that could result in a punishment. Or has something happened at home? Was your family alright?

You looked to Cedric, who looked just as perplexed.

“I’ll see you later? Back in the common room?” You asked.

“Of course.” He replied. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

You smiled and went off with Professor down the hall.

Cedric watched you walk out of the room, wondering what was going on and why you were needed this late at night. She couldn’t possibly be in trouble, he thought, she’s nearly perfect.

———————

Cedric was back in the common room and still waiting for your return by the time of eleven o’clock that night. You said you were coming back, so where were you?

He was starting to worry. Something about your grades wouldn’t keep you out this long, especially since nearly all of them were top marks. Could it be something with your family? He found himself hoping it wasn’t that, he knew how much you loved your family and how heartbroken you would be if something happened to one of them.

But then he started to wonder about other things- would you be at the second task tomorrow? Would you be in the stands to cheer him on? He needed you there, he needed your support to keep him going. He was nervous and scared and you have always been there for him to get him through and he needed you just as much tomorrow.

——————

When you had followed Professor down the corridors of Hogwarts, you were nervously racking your brain for anything you’ve done wrong or that could be wrong. You couldn’t think of anything, which only made you more nervous.

She lead you into her office, where three other students and multiple other teachers were waiting- including Dumbledore.

You walked to the other students who you recognized as Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and a foreign student that looked a lot like Fleur DeLaCour.

“What’s going on?” You asked Hermione.

“No idea.” She replied, seemingly as nervous as you.

“Hello students.” Said Dumbledore with a smile, “I’m sure your very curious as to why we have brought you here at this time.

It is because you are of great importance to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, of course which will be taking place tomorrow morning.”

“I thought only the champions competed?” Ron asked in confusion from the side of you and Hermione.

“Indeed.” Dumbledore went on, “You all will not be competing, I assure you. But, you will be the things that the champions need to retrieve from the lake.”

That news shocked you. You were going to be in the bottom of a freezing lake at the end of February!

“Of course, Gabrielle,” Dumbledore continued, “you will be Miss DeLaCour’s partner, Mr.Weasley, you will be Mr.Potter’s partner, Miss Granger will be with Mr. Krum, and Miss (y/l/n), will be partnered with Mr. Diggory.”

You didn’t even have time to think before Dumbledore explained the spell that would be out on the four of you during the time in the Lake.

Then, before you knew it, your vision went black and you were fast asleep.

———————

The next morning, Cedric woke up on the common room couch after falling asleep there, waiting for you. Have you still not come back?, he thought. The worry inside of him intensified, both the fact that he had to get ready for the second task and not knowing where you are.

But he didn’t get time to dwell on the matter as other Hufflepuffs streamed out of their dormitories and started to wish him luck. He thanked them and went to go get ready, hoping that you would be down in the stands for him.

But, when he got to the dock, and looked around at the stands, he could not find you anywhere. He looked next to him as, Harry Potter, also seemed to be looking for his friends.

“Can you not find your friends in the stands?” Cedric asked the younger boy.

Harry looked his way, and then back to the bleachers, surveying one last time for his best friends before answering, “No, I don’t think they’re in the Bleachers. Can you find your friends?”

Cedric sighed in worry, “Not the one that I’m particularly looking for.”

Suddenly, a terrible thought popped into Cedrics head. Where you at the bottom of the Lake? If Harry’s friends weren’t there, and you weren’t there... could the other champions have people they love, missing too?

As Dumbledore started to explain what needed to happen, and countdown, Cedrics fear that you were at the bottom of the lake increased.

Just then, the countdown stopped and the task had begun.

Cedric quickly focused as he cast the bubblehead charm you had helped him find last night, and dove down into the mysterious, murky waters.

It took him a while to find the intricate paintings that guided him to the merpeople village at the bottom of the lake. He had to fight off several creatures who didn’t seem particularly pleased to see him. But nevertheless he made it.

He saw Harry treading water lightly near what seemed to be a person attached to a long peice of seaweed. He was shocked to see that Harry had gills and fins! Harry saw Cedric and motioned him over.

Cedric swam toward the boy with the lightning scar. The closer he swam, he realized that Harry was treading near Ron.

His suspicions were proven correct, as you came into view next to Ron. Cedric looked at you and how peacefully asleep you were. His heart ached at how beautiful you looked, but he didn’t waste time in taking the rock Harry offered him and beat away the seaweed that kept you to floor of the lake.

As soon as you were released from the seaweed, Cedric grabbed you around the waste, and gave Harry a nod of thanks before making his way back up to the surface.

———————

You gasped for air as soon as you broke the surface, choking on water and coughing. Startled, you looked around wondering why you were in a lake. Then you felt the warm arm around your waste and the handsome face of Cedric Diggory right next to you.

“It’s alright (y/n),” He said as he continued to swim you back to the docks, “I’ve got you.”

You nodded and held tight to him, as you both made it back to the pier, where teachers were waiting with towels, as the students cheered.

Cedric lifted you out of the water and towels and blankets were immediately placed on you as he climbed out as well. You were shivering like mad because of the freezing water and cold, February air.

You watched as Cedric got many congratulations from other students as he was the first to return.

Cedric came to sit next to you as he received multiple towels and a blanket as well. He gave you a big hug, and you gladly accepted it, trying to get his comforting warmth.

As you both hugged, you heard him whisper so softly that you almost didn’t hear it. “I’m sorry.”

You pulled away and looked at the sopping wet boy that rescued you. “For what?”

“For being the reason you’re beyond freezing right now. It’s my fault that you were put into the lake.” He said, looking down with defeat.

You placed your cold hand on his cheek and lifted his face up to level with yours. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Ced.” You assured him sincerely.

“But I should’ve seen this coming.” He told you, “I’m so stupid! How did I not see this coming?”

“How could you have?”

“Because- you mean everything to me! I couldn’t bear to ever lose you! You’ve been there through everything- when I put my name in and I was selected as champion! You’ve been there for me since we ever met! Of course I would miss you the most!”

You stared at him, not expecting the words he was saying. You listened to Cedric ramble on about how much he needed you, and you decided you had had enough of it, so you pulled his face towards yours and kissed him.

He shut up immediately and kissed you back.

You would never admit to anybody that you imagined kissing Cedric Diggory many times before this, but you definitely have and this felt so much more than you could have ever imagined. The kiss was sweet, gentle, and warm. It was full of passion and the need to let the other know how much love you had for each other.

After breaking away, you both looked at each other and let out a little laugh of happiness.

“I’m really glad that finally happened.” You whispered.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment, just never thought we would be drenched and freezing when it came.” You giggled at his words.

He kissed you again and said, “I’m never letting anybody take you away from me ever again.”

#reader insert #cedric x reader #cedric diggory #Harry Potter #second task #goblet of fire

[kth1]

Atmosphere [Namjoon x Reader]

Atmosphere [Namjoon x Reader] ⟶ Credits: @kimtaehyunq​ ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Celebrity/Boyfriend AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: strong/mature theme, adult content, language, titty play, we remembered the condom this time, slight angst, slight dom elements, more fluff, a bit of overstimulation, soft and cute ending, etc ⟶ WC: 8.2k+ ⟶ Summary: Namjoon and you have been dating for a few years now, fully aware of the worries a relationship with a celebrity would be like. One night you spoke up, showing a bit of jealously after him coming back home from a promotional trip across seas. You didn’t mean to slip up, you didn’t want to taint the air with insecurities, but you lost your composure. Don’t worry, you guys figure it out. ⟶ Teaser: “Namjoon can read you like a book, knew exactly what to do when to do it. He fully enjoyed the way your body reacted to him, how simple of a task for him to pleasure you in this way. Your cries from pleasure giving him excitement that he was treating you the way you deserve.” ⟶ Author’s note: Finally, I didn’t write a story in first-person. I caught myself several times having to fix my context of wording, but I did it for you! I had this story in mind for a while, but it felt difficult to tie together. It came out softer, cuter than I anticipated. Please let me know for any grammar mistakes! Enjoy! 🐾

You ran into your bedroom and slammed the door behind you, locking it immediately. Namjoon’s footsteps were sounding nearer, quickly making their way towards the room. You slumped your body against the door, pushing your back up against it to create more of a barricade and prevent Joon from entering. He tried jiggling the doorknob, noting that it resisted the turn. Leaning up against the carved piece of mahogany wood that separated the both of you he spoke, “Babe?”

He groans, hearing silence from the other end but knowing you were obviously holding yourself captive inside the shared room. Your eyes were watery, hands in fists and completely vibrating with rage. You were livid, mad at every negative thought that crossed your mind and… more upset with yourself more than anything. You overreacted and didn’t know how to handle yourself.

“Y/n… Just open the door. Talk to me.” He sighed. Namjoon’s knuckles tapping at the door slowly, the sound echoing thought the silence between the two of you. The agonizing noise banging against the labored wood filling your eardrums. Tears slowly escaping the crease of your eyes, you sniffled as you plucked at pieces of the carpet below you.

“Baaaabe!” he repeated, drawing out the sound of the vowels. You can hear the annoyance in the tone of his voice, he was one to maintain his calm and collect himself well especially during intense situations. But he’s still human. There are times where he really can’t handle all the stress and he cracks.

“Joon, leave me alone!” you choked out, voice cracking. You couldn’t help your voice from shaking, the emotions packing into your body were too overwhelming for you to contain.

“Just open the door, please.” There was no light to his voice. Joon’s patience running terribly thin. He’s trying to confront the situation. Trying to figure out what got you so riled up and darting away from the kitchen table. Sharing a delicious meal between the two of you, was it something he said?

Water filled up the clear glass before you, swishing the three single ice cubes as the cup filled up with liquid. Namjoon’s soft features content as he placed the pitcher off to the side, out of the way of the rest of the silverware. You smiled, showing gratitude and nodding a quick ‘thank you’ with a subtle gesture.

“Thank you for making dinner, it looks great!” You beamed a grin to him. Scanning over at the plates in front, figuring out what portions and pieces you want to grab. Joon nodded, dimple creasing in the side of his face as he stares at you in adoration.

He’s been away for a few weeks, taking care of business and working hard. Attending events all over the world to promote his new album. He’s a solo artist, expressing his thoughts and feelings through lyrics and various tunes. Emotions tied to each word that overflowed each song and every song. You were proud of him, releasing his 4th mixtape tilted ‘No Atmosphere’.

He was a hard worker, so dedicated to projects and assignments. There’s nothing wrong with that at all, this is what he loves. What he was made to do. Such a wise, humble, and reliable soul he has. He takes responsibility very seriously – which is a blessing and a burden. Picky, he gets frustrated with himself, overthinking every little detail. He strives to please everyone around him, putting them first, always.

A series of topics spread over the course of your meal, filling each other up with what you’ve missed, sharing news and making plans for future dates. He expressed how much he enjoyed visiting Spain, London, Ireland. Quoting ‘I wish you were there to see this!’ as he scrolled through photos and videos he snapped on his endeavors.

Meanwhile, you were stuck there. In your shared two-story apartment. A place that was generously too large for just the two of you. And much too big for one single person while the other was gone for long trips, multiple times a year. You had your part-time work, your full-time classes for your master’s degree, a few social gatherings from your small friend group. But you always came home to an empty apartment when Joon was gone.

“Hey Joon?” you disrupted his rant. One he didn’t realize he trailed on and on, boasting about how happy he was when visiting a party that honored his album.

He blinked, losing his train of thought and focused his eyes on yours. A soft smile curving up on his lips from hearing your light voice. “Hmm?”

What he didn’t notice was how you stopped eating the food, fiddling with your fork against your plate as you used one of the prongs to kick a small pea around. Scraps of leftovers and uneaten pieces still lay across your plate and you hesitantly spoke up, “What happened back in London?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows raised in worry, his eyes curious and confused at what you were asking. “What about London? I did a lot there?” You could tell Joon went into deep thought, retracing everything he had already mentioned to you and seeing if he possibly forgot anything.

I did a lot there. You shook your head trying to remove that sentence. But it played over and over, like a broken record. Shouldn’t he phrase that answer differently, you thought. Of course, it rolled off his tongue in innocence, but it held weight on to your chest. Your mind circled that sentence because you kept remembering something you had seen, something that was exposed on the internet.

“There was a video, Joon.” You mumbled under your breath, placing the fork down on top of the napkin.

This wasn’t the place to confront Namjoon, not after him prepping this dinner for you. Not when you finally had relaxing time ever since he came back from his promotion trip. Countless interviews and media articles which talked the anticipation of the album. You kept up to date with most of them, following him as he remained contact with you through your personal phones. Confrontation during this time shouldn’t been optimal, but you muttered the sentence. Your curiosity perked up – and there’s no way of brushing it off now.

You assumed Namjoon knew exactly what you were referencing by the way his face slightly dropped. A video. That video. From a bystander from the album release party… seeking social attention, posting a damn video about the continuously rising artist in attempt to cause disturbance and tainting his image. A fucking video that was pixelated, rendered, a copy of a copy, uploaded on twitter; showing what seems to be Namjoon being close, being in an ‘intimate embrace’ with another female. A female that was not you.

It was blurry, the video couldn’t hold much value to the normal eye because it was difficult to make out faces. But anyone with an expert eye, anyone that knew Namjoon, or was a big fan of him, knew that was him in the video. The slicked back hairstyle, the long dark coat that should be considered as a cloak draping over his body, the mask held over his chin and hooked over each ear. Blurry or not, you knew the figure in the video all too well.  

“Y/n, it’s not what it looks like.”

“They wrote a lot of stories about that video.” You scoffed. You don’t believe Namjoon would be unfaithful at all, you knew him to be extremely loyal. A lot of stories indeed. And guess what, you read every single one of them. Each wrenching your heart just a bit more, coming up more and more theories inside your head. You swallowed down the tang, the hurtful stories, holding them in the pit of your stomach until you completely word vomit all over Joon. Spilling your insecure thoughts.

“What is it then?”

Joon copied your action, placing his fork down and now reaching across the table to grab your hand. You removed it fast, Joon grabbing at the ghost of your palm as you start to shy yourself away. Staring at him as he let go a sigh.

“It’s nothing. It was taken at an angle –“

“Nothing?!” Your eyebrows shot up, gulping down the buildup of saliva that horded in your mouth. “That ‘nothing’ seemed pretty comfortable to you by the looks of it.” Your snarky remark officially ripped open a wave of hostility between the both of you.

“She was the party director!” He raised his voice in defense, baffled that you two were even having this conversation in the first place. Stunned that you didn’t bring it up earlier. “She scooted closer to me in a group photo – I’m sure you’ve seen the photo online.”

“The video was after the picture was taken, Joon!”

“I didn’t do anything, Y/n. Nothing happened before or after that. Her arm was around me. She was on me. Not the other way around.”

Namjoon sounded more dismissive now. It was clear he was getting fed up with the subject, doesn’t believe he has to prove his clean hands to you. Because he’s done everything for you, you were his girlfriend. His love.

Now – you sit here against the bedroom door. Holding back as many tears as possible as Namjoon desperately tried to enter. The emptied and unoccupied space between you two caused unnerving feelings for you. You got worried, it wasn’t your intention but for some reason you really felt that pang of hurtfulness when you came to the realization that Namjoon could have someone better.

“Y/n!” He shouted.

“You’re mad at me…” You whispered to yourself. How dare you bring something so silly up at the table. Ruining a great meal, the one he planned and set up, you ruined it with your insecurities. You were curious, but the curiosity shot you back in the face. Coming off more anxious and fearful, questioning the loyalty of your boyfriend. You were upset with yourself more than anything. Letting stupid rumored scandals corrupt your mind.

He knocked again. You, being aggravated and worked up at his constant need to get you to open up, hit back at the door in frustration. A sob leaving your mouth.

A loud thump nailed into the other side of the wood you were leaning against, Joon kicking at it and proceeded to yell, “Why are you crying?! Open the fucking door Y/n!”

He sounded scary, something you weren’t used to coming from him. Picturing him with clenched teeth, fists with white knuckles, eyebrows furrowed together. Again, he kicked at the door. The shutter sound making you crawl away from the frame, “Unlock it now!” he spat out.

“Joon, stop! You’re freaking me out,” your breath hitching once the pounding stopped. Silence filling the void of the air. Standing up with trembling hands, taking a slow step towards the door. Joon rested his head against it, hand still around the knob. Exhaling he responded, “Please.”

Your hand froze over the lock, pinching it between your two digits. You gathered yourself together, mustered up the courage to twist the metal piece. Right away Namjoon turned the knob and pushed the door in, forcing you to take a few steps back into your room.

Holding your arms to yourself your head fell, looking at the ground. Namjoon walked up, closing the space between the two of you and wrapped his arms around your body, tight. Taking you in his embrace. Your arms remained crossed, trying to wiggle around in his arms to break free.

“Stop, Y/n.” Namjoon grabbed your head and shoved it against his chest. His hold too sturdy to break away from. He noted that your breathing was erratic, unstable. He was bothered, the conversation struck a nerve but also disturbed you.

Your tears flowed, dripping down your cheeks. “You’re mad at me,” you muffled into his chest. Namjoon swayed back and forth with you in his hold, trying to calm you down. Shushing you and rubbing his large hands on your back. Putting your face into your hands, you cried realizing that what you said, what you were accusing under hidden messages, was a mistake.

“I’m not mad, Y/n. I’m concerned.”

“What are you talking about? You are mad!” You prosecuted Namjoon, hysterical. “You were shouting! You hit the door!” You screamed out, sniffling into your hands.

Joon shuffled the both of you back to the bed, helping you sit down on the edge and he took his place besides you. He stared at your beating red face as he took his thumb and wiped away the stained trails that seeped from the brims of your eyes. “Breathe for a second.”

You leaned your head back and avoided eye contact. Your breathing did calm down after giving yourself time, feeling the warmth of Namjoon’s palm that rested on your cheek. His eyes darted back and forth with yours, pleading to be looked at and trying to read your thoughts from the mannerisms that played across your face.

“I’m just jealous.” Your hands found their way back across your body, acting as a shield, protecting yourself from anymore harm. But the harm you were receiving was from deep within your body. An overbearing ache in your chest.

Namjoon tilted his head after your statement, as if he didn’t understand. He weaved his eyebrows together, frustrated at the thoughts he drew up in his mind. “What? Jealous of what?”

“You go around everywhere. You get to meet and partake in actions with a lot of people… girls… very pretty girls. All these women saying they’re going out with you, or you have models cooing over you.” You continued to rant on. All those rumors and gossip getting to you. Even though Namjoon gave you continuous attention regardless of where he was in the world, you somehow manage to believe in the filthy tabloids.

Joon closed his eyes at your nonsense and shook his head. “Shut up!” He covered your mouth with a quick kiss. A comforting warm kiss, one you craved for after a long day with your nose in the books, hours spent at the part-time job. A greeting kiss, but it was more than just a greeting to you. It welcomed you to another side of Joon. A sensitive side that you only get to see because… well, you’re his girlfriend. You’re special to him.

He slowly pulled away and caught your gaze, “I’m just an ordinary guy, Y/n, nothing is going to change that. Nobody is going to make me different from who I already am. I love you. I don’t love them.” His hand held your chin up to make sure you stayed in view. “I have you and I’m happy with that. Why can’t you see that?”

Doubts portrayed in your thoughts for a few moments. Thinking that he’s just saying these things to make you feel better. Your mind was so clouded with these dirty lies, that you felt self-conscious about yourself. Were you even good enough for Kim Namjoon?

“I-I’m sorry” snuck out of your mouth.

“No. I’m sorry.”

You gave Joon a puzzled look, why is he saying he’s sorry? He wasn’t in the wrong.

“If I was giving you the proper treatment of what a boyfriend should do, you wouldn’t feel this way. Right here, right now.” He leaned in once again and kissed you softly. Hands outlining your face. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him across you and onto the bed. The kiss deepened and his tongue glazed over your slightly parted lips.

“You shouldn’t be sorry at all.” You whispered against his lips, heated breath fanning across his flesh. “You do plenty for me, you’re really generous to me Namjoon. And… I’m so sorry for doubting you for a second.”

Of course, you had an idea of what it’d be like to date someone famous. He’d be much busier than a typical boyfriend, he’d travel further, and gone for periods of time. You were well aware of this, and for a good amount of time it really didn’t bother you. Namjoon always felt like he was holding you back, but he loves you too much to let you go. Far too many conversations like this have come up in the past between the two of you. Between the ‘talking’ stages to the ‘dating’ stages, and now officially together, you two have chatted about the toll of a full on relationship may cost.

But this didn’t stop either of you. Even when you tried taking things slow, seeing how things felt and figuring out if you were suited for this sort of lifestyle, you two gradually connected back to another. Namjoon couldn’t stay away from you for too long, and you were always welcoming him back with open arms. He was loyal to you. You understood him the most and when there were times he couldn’t express himself properly, you were there to help.

Laying down, Joon rested his head on your shoulder and wrapped an arm around your stomach lazily. One of your hands mindlessly toyed around with the strands of his hair as the other found place over his forearm.

“I understand why you felt the way you did; I really do.” He spoke in a sotto voce. “Y/n, I get curious too.”

Joon was referencing that he, himself, thinks about the possibilities of you being influenced by other men. Especially if he’s away, he puts all trust into you, but it doesn’t stop his overthinking mind to wonder. Maybe he wasn’t good enough for you, maybe he was holding you back. He was afraid of tying you down if you weren’t happy with the situation you were in. Namjoon always swallowed his negative thoughts, dismissing them because he rather focus on the future and being happy.

Your grip tightened around him, not knowing what to really say back to him. Feeling guilty in more than one way now. “Joon –“

“I love you, Y/n.”

He remained resting his head on your shoulder with his eyes closed. He casted a soothing and calm aura with how relaxed he became. He doesn’t like a hostile environment and the tiniest of squabbles are typically unnecessary and overreacted. He preferred to just talk it out, communicate with another to know what is really going on.

You kissed the top of his head, sniffing his hair and intaking a fresh vanilla scent. The wisps of hair folding under your fingers as you slightly groomed him. “I love you too, Joon. I really am sorry.”

Joon was happy having you, honestly. You gave him energy, satisfaction and your undivided attention. He never expected you to be as good to him that you already were. He couldn’t ask for more from you, he’s already taking up so much of your commitments and he tries hard to always make it up. Dinners, dates, cute surprise visits, facetime and random texts in the middle of the day when he’s thinking about you. He knew effort and communication were strong keys to hold the two of you together and he always tried his hardest to maintain these.

Again, you had a strong idea on how your relationship with Joon would be like. And you accepted it. You want it because you want him, and that was enough for you to say yes to him after the seventh date together at the aquarium two summers ago. His hands were in the touch tanks, searching around for cute little critters and lightly petting against their various skins. Spotting some fascinating crabs and he described to you how you reminded him of them.

It was playful, he was joking around trying to get you to smile even more that day. But the best thing about that day was when he turned to you, with salted wet hands from the tank he grabbed yours in return and stared deeply into your eyes. Asking if you’d like to take the relationship in seriousness, wanting to be official. At that moment you could care less that your hand was drenched with cold water, you only cared about the tall, handsome man that was holding that hand.

You were content, laying with Joon on your shared bed. Feeling enveloped with love and adoration. Suddenly he leaned up, hobbling himself over you and pecked your nose. He had a spark in his eye, something he tucked away in his mind but now lit up momentarily. He smiled down at you, listening to you giggle, “What?” you questioned.

“Hold on, I have to grab something. Wait right here.” He pointed at you with a finger, warning you to stay put. His grin had a hint of mischievous humor behind it as he got up off the bed, walking out the room and down the stairs towards the kitchen area. You can hear Namjoon rummaging through bags, drawers, you name it. You thought to yourself, what is he even doing out there?

“Joonie?” Your voice rang out loud enough to stretch the area of the house. You sat up, looking around the room but your hearing zoned in on the muffled sounds that were coming from downstairs.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he vocalized with a honeyed tone.

You can hear the patter of his feet, trailing up the steps and patting back into the bedroom. He smiled fondly at you as he entered, walking back over and sitting besides you. He claimed that he was grabbing something, but you didn’t recognize anything being carried in when he returned. You were perplexed to say the least as your eyes searched around.

Namjoon noticed your gaze that scanned in all directions, amusing him on how easily curious you were. His dimple shining bright he raised an eyebrow, “Lookin’ for something?”

Slightly offended, because that question had an obvious answer to it, and you didn’t understand what was going on. You cocked your head to the side, quirking a frown, “Well yeah, you said you were grabbing something?”

He smirked, holding your hand in his as his other hand shoved into his pocket to pull out a Prussian blue box, handing it over to you. He nodded, edging you to open the top.

You swore right then and there your heart stopped beating. You thought your holy spirit drained your body and elevated up to the heavens at the sight of this small thinned cardboard box. Completely unaware of what the contents that lay within it, but your mind went racing straight to one thing. Holy shit, holy shit. This can’t be happening? Like this? It’s so sudden and random? This didn’t feel right.

Your eyebrows raised practically to your hairline, eyes wide and mouth frozen. You hesitantly held the box between your digits, glancing up at Namjoon with a tiny bit of unsettlement in your eyes. You felt your heart in your throat, pounding loudly over the nerves that coursed in your skin.

“Open it.”

The saliva that accumulated in your mouth was swallowed thickly with a gulp, flipping over the lid to the box and seeing a shiny silver object inside. It took you seconds to register the thingamajig, observing that it was some sort of flat, circled charm that had your name, address, and number engraved onto it. You were processing the information in your mind, a small sigh of relief exhaled through your nostrils that it wasn’t something extreme like a ring or anything.

“A… tag?”

“Mhm! I was going to give it to you after dinner, but we never finished our meal.” He chimed in with a playful banter.

“Why a tag?” The gift was random and completely out of the blue. But the gift itself was even more unusual than expected. Not once in your life has someone gifted you a tag with your contact information on it, were you supposed to wear this around a necklace, a keychain perhaps?

Joon takes the charm with the pads of two of his fingers, flipping it over to the other side. “So you can fill out this side with its name!”

Then… it clicked. Oh my. A tag. A dog tag. You two were getting a dog?! You gasped; emotions ran ecstatic through you as you jumped up with joy. “A dog?!”

Delighted that he brought jubilation to you, he stood up holding your arms to help you stop springing off the floor. He chuckled, “Yes! I figured you needed someone to keep you company during the times that I’m not here for you. I know how much you love animals too, so I wanted to ask if you’d like to get one.”

You locked lips with Joon. Throwing your arms around his neck, dropping the box in the process, and pulled him closer to your body. Eagerness racing through your muscles as you leaped yourself off the floor and linking your legs around his waist. He caught you under your thighs, laughing into the kiss as he brought you back to the bed.

He cradled your body, supporting himself on top of you has you leaned back down on the fabric below. Running your hands up and down his arms, he deepened the kiss. Both of you captivated with another and riveting another’s attention to a now quickly heated session.

You tugged on his bottom lip that was more dominate than the top, grazing your teeth on the tinted pink flesh. He inhaled sharply, feeling his heartbeat fasten as his body anticipates upcoming actions. And yours did the same. Namjoon was tender handling you, a more amorous side taking over his persona.

His smooth chap-stick covered lips butterflied across your dried-up cheeks. Stamping warm kisses to your flesh as he trailed down to your jaw and peppering along the column of your neck. This wasn’t some sort of hot n’ heavy, steamy romantic session. He was gentle, he took his time, he was intimate with you. You can feel it in the air, in your bones and most importantly you felt it in your swelling heart.

It was sweet, the warmhearted feeling that took over your body because of Namjoon. Hushed giggles and bashful laughter crowded the room. A fun-loving atmosphere. And you were completely smitten by it all.

“May I take this off?” Hands curled around the material of your shirt slightly lifting it up to the underside of your breasts. Rubbing his thumbs along the bare skin below your bra.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you flashed an excited smile in reply, “As long as I can take yours off.”

Joon looked smug, lifting your shirt up and off your torso. He went to lean down to connect his lips back onto your skin, but you caught him before he could fully commit. Yanking his shirt high up his chest until you couldn’t hoist it any further since his arms where in the way. He laughed at your antic, how cute it was and enthusiastic you were. But he obliged and lifted his arms up for you.

There was no time to waste, Joon sloped back down on you. Pecking his plump lips on your collarbone and down towards the valley between your boobs. Feeling how soft your skin was, lightly nibbling at it. You hummed through your nose, arching your back into Joon’s face, urging him to continue.

One of his manly hands cuffed your left breast as his mouth connected to your right, open mouth kisses and softly sucking at it. You released a tiny moan, enjoying the sensation that was being stimulated on your breasts.

And boy, you were so sensitive on your boobs. Especially when he toyed with your nipples, moistening them up with his mouth and rolling the buds between his fingers. It wired you, Namjoon played with you like an etch-a-sketch. It feels fantastic. Waves of goosebumps cycling across your skin as he continued running his tongue across your aroused nipples, making sure to give the other boob the same attention. You mewed for him; the blush drawn on your upper cheeks as your body grew hotter under his touches.

He reached behind you with a hand, unclasping the hook of the bra and allowing the fabric to relieve your delicate girls. Turning you on was Joon’s pleasure, he cared about pleasing you more than being pleased. He could spend all day groping your tits if that means you’ll be satisfied.

You were easily wet; the games Joon played with your boobs sparking your nerves and arousal. Prepping your body for more, aching for more of his gentle touch.

Daringly you reached your hand between the two of you, palming at whatever you made contact with until you found a stiffening bulged that stuck out with the fabric of his pants. You can feel the warmth radiating through his region, heated up and you knew very well he wants to reintroduce his member to you.

“Joon – take off your pants.” You ordered in a hushed tone. Squeezing at his dick. “My body really wants you right now.”

As your sweet voice compelled his ears, he listened. Shuffling his pants off with a smirk and a light shake of his head. “I wanted to touch you a bit more.” Giving you a small pout.

“Aww.” You smiled, seeing the little kid of him. “You can touch me with this big boy instead.” You tried sounding a bit sexy, almost kitten-like as you eyed his member.

Willingly you unbuttoned your own jeans, tugging them down your thighs and letting Joon help you with the rest. His fingers ran up to your undies that remained on your frame, seeing the cute little ocean doodled pattern on them with a dampened and darker spot that was clung to the outline of your lady-lips. He was turned on and completely in awe of how cute you are.

“Why do you do this to me?” he laughed, feeling happy with you and hooking his fingers around the thin waistband of your undies. Towing them down your legs with a fit of giggles.

You blushed; a bit embarrassed at your attire but not even self-conscious being completely nude in front of him. “I don’t know – I just thought they were cute!” You retorted back fast.

“They are cute. You’re even cuter for wearing them.” He chirped.

Namjoon swooped back down, placing his hand over your mound and letting a finger dip in between your folds. Sliding your natural lubrication all over he glided it over your clit, making you moan in the process. Your hands found their way into his hair, fluffing it up even more while Joon teased at your entrance.

“Your body really does want me, huh? I don’t think I even need to use my fingers.”

Nodding, you bucked your hips up chasing his floating fingers. Wishing he’d do something more with them than just shifting between all your lady bits. “Let me get a condom.”

You reached over to the bedside table, pulling out a drawer to frantically search for the magical package that contained the secure rubber. Swiftly you ripped it open, offering to help apply it along his length. You pinched the tip of the latex, rolling the rest down his long shaft and giving his dick a few teasing tugs.

Joon groaned at your touch, flexing his dick in the process of your pumps. He was more than ready to take you in, ready to share the closeness with you once again.

With that, Joon pushed you back down on the bed. Lifting one of your legs over his hip as he centered himself at your core. Your slick allowing him to slide between your folds effortlessly as he prodded his tip in your hole.

You held your breath, anticipating Joon to fill you up all the way to the hilt. You want to feel him inside you, widening your walls and your body vibrating around him. He locked eyes with you, smiling as he leaned down to plant another kiss on your lips. In sync he inched himself further into you, a grunt escaping his chest as you disconnected yourself from the kiss to breathe. You tossed your head to the side, latched your hands around his shoulders as Joon set a pace with his thrusts.

Your body missed Joon so much, you didn’t even have control over how your cunt clenched tightly around his dick. Your walls compressed in a series of movements; your cunt thirsty for him. Breathy gasps leaving your mouth once Namjoon whispers to the skin between your neck, “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this. Ah – Y/n, you’re so wet.”

Earlier you felt a deep ache within your chest from the persistent pain of worry and hurt. But now, all of that washed over. You feel something deep, but not from pain. Not from the obvious penetration from Joon’s lengthy cock kissing the doorway of your cervix. You feel deep feelings, words and actions not able to compare to the affection and fondness between the two of you.

You felt warm, completely at ease even though you’re sweating, catching your breath, sensitive nerves awakening to the sexual stimulation between your legs. A heavy body on top of you, pounding his dick into your sweet succulent juices. His hips banging into you, his head stuck in the crane of your neck.

This warm feeling overruled all physical activities and all auditable sounds. But what it couldn’t stop was the twisting of your lower abdomen muscles, the stiffening of your walls and tense grip over Joon’s shoulders. Your body reacting on its own agenda. Your throat feeling dry from the open mouth breathing, you tried speaking but only moans were formed.

Namjoon can read you like a book, knew exactly what to do when to do it. He fully enjoyed the way your body reacted to him, how simple of a task for him to pleasure you in this way. Your cries from pleasure giving him excitement that he was treating you the way you deserve.

“Joon I’m – I’m close!” you panted, feeling that orgasm rolling closer and closer to a release.

As much as both Joon and you wanted you to spasm all around him, he stalled it. Delaying you from the contractions of your pelvic muscles that would send electrifying waves all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. He stopped all actions, halting himself deep inside you and slowly rocked his hips to continue a small force of friction between the two of you.

Your body was frustrated, your cunt was soaked, and you were vexed. “Joonie?” you whined out, bucking your hips up into him. Feeling that build up in the pit of your stomach slowly fade away.

Joon leaned up, kissing your cheek. He hummed to himself, satisfied with the state the both of you were in. “I would love to stay like this forever. Do you feel this?”

Do you feel this, Y/n? The sensation filling the room, the air, your heart. The thrill that frenzied in your veins and muscles. Flushed, excited, ecstatic, blissed out of your mind. The feeling Joon raptures you with, sending your body to a state of euphoria. It was wild. You didn’t feel normal, but it was the best feeling you could ever experience with another. And this is what Namjoon wanted to continuously feel.

Without notice, tears fell from your eyes as you nodded to his statement. You weren’t sad or upset, but in complete awe over Joon. How could someone be this perfectly imperfect? How could someone be so sweet for you. And you still question yourself if you were even good enough for Kim Namjoon.

He whipped away the tears that shed onto your skin, hushing you. “You don’t need to cry, Y/n. Believe me, I already know the way you feel.” Because… he feels it too.

With the little room you were given, you wrapped your arms around Joon as much as possible. He smiled down at you, returning the hug and rolling the two of you over with him still pivoted inside. You now lay above him, peering down into his eyes you went to speak. The movement of your body caused your pelvis to rub against his, squishing your swollen clit against him and bursting a shriek out of your mouth when you snapped back into reality.

The heightened arousal between your legs was still on edge and ready to burst. Joon bit down on his bottom lip once he felt your pussy clench around him. The experience between the both of you was riveting but was soon going to vanish because of the greediness your bodies had. Your mouth dropped open, “I love you” spilled out without wavering.

Namjoon’s hands rested on your sides, holding your waist as you slowly grinded yourself against him. Allowing his dick to swirl inside of you while your sensitive bud rubbed against his pelvic bone. You couldn’t help yourself; your body had a mind of its own when it rushed itself back up the stairs to orgasm. And you got there, fast.

Your body jerked; your hands planted on Joon’s chest to hold yourself upright as you released yourself all over him. Unfolding all the pent-up energy and feelings. Your hair cascaded over your face with labored breathing, groans ascending out of your mouth. “Joon, I – I, I going to – Joon – Ahh!” you squeaked out once the second wave coursed through your cunt, expanding a pulsating vibration through your body.

“So beautiful. Fuck – Y/n, you’re so damn beautiful!” Joon watched every second of you coming undone on him, seeing how you squirmed around him, using his body for your own pleasure, moaning his name. In a selfish way, Namjoon felt fulfillment seeing you like this – all displayed for him to treasure and praise. It turned him on, hearing your voice singing into his ears as he jutted himself up further into your moisten cunt. Over stimulating your nether region, he was determined to make you go one last time before he spills into the condom.

You’re barely holding yourself up straight, hunched over with your palms placed on his torso. Sweat formed along your hairline and between the contact of your skin with his. The mixture of your sweet n’ salty juices shining along your lady-lips and Joon’s cock. Before you could call out his name in another breathless voice, he has your mounds in each of his hands, squeezing them tight and pinching at your perked nipples.

You gripped at his wrists, letting out a shocked plea for him to stop because the sensation was so good that you couldn’t handle it. “Joon!”, you choked out, gasping for air as you tried to lift your body off his. He refused.

He flipped you back over, Joon locking your hands above your head with one hand around your wrists. He didn’t care for the mess on the bed, the tossed pillows and taunted comforter beneath the two of you. Your attempt of wiggling out of his grasp was a failure after he pinned you down with his body. Dick hovering over your delicate pussy.

“One more time, for me.” His voice was stern and serious while he murmured into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“I – I can’t!” Your chest heaved erratically, feeling your legs already shake and stomach contracting from the multiple orgasms you’ve already encountered. You felt weak.

“You will, love.”

Your request was again, hushed. Namjoon tilting his hips for his dick to dip back into your entrance, he placed kisses on the crook of your neck. Your breath hitched, throwing your head back into the bed, feeling Joon slam himself deep inside you, causing your nerves to shudder.

You struggled for air, body completely trembling uncontrollably as you cried out for Namjoon. You swore your vision went blurry while you received this mind-blowing orgasm. Joon held onto you tight, allowing you to ride out your high. Slowly pulling himself out of you once he knew you were finished.

Namjoon and you laid close to another, exhausted from the physical activity and especially from the toll your body took. Your eyes shut, not able to lift your body off the bed. Joon smirked, giving you another peck on the cheek before leaning up to discard the used condom, knotting it and tossing it in the trash bin. “You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

You laughed, shaking your head to yourself. “I heard you the first time, Joon.”

“I know.” He chuckled, laying back down and wrapping his arm back around you. “I mean it every time.”

You hummed in response. Tracing sluggish patterns on his forearm with your index finger. You slowly drifted further into your tiredness. “We’re still getting a dog, right?” You drowsily asked.

You felt a soft pair of warm lips contact your forehead; the sensation was comforting. “Of course, babe.”

About a week later you were staring out the window, watching the scenic views pass by. Acres of landscape in the countryside took up the area. The environment felt fresh and calm. Much different from the inner-city area with nonstop traffic and busy streets. You turned your gaze at Namjoon who was driving the car, his eyes remained on the dirt road ahead, but he could sense your stare.

As if he knew what you were thinking, he spoke up “Almost Y/n, the farm is about 2 miles up.”

You smirked to yourself, looking down at the palm of your hand that held the shiny silver dog tag. You fiddled with the metal, twisting the item back and forth between your digits. Anticipating the new addition to the house, a furry companion, hopefully the cutest puppy in the world.

The two of you slowly pulled up an extended driveway, parking in front of an old tiny brown snug farmhouse. A large red barn hidden behind the home, attached was a large fence that enclosed a few goats and pigs. A pack of stray chickens roaming around the grounds. Shutting the car doors, the smell of the plantation entered your nostrils, “Definitely a farm.”

You were greeted by an elder couple, warm smiles dressing their wrinkly faces. They were dressed as if they were in the middle of housework, tall muk boots, overalls and plaid shirts. “Hello there! You’re here for one of the pups?”

Joon reached out to lace his hand with yours, walking over towards the sweet couple. Charming and innocent eyes beamed back at you two. “Hey there! I’m Namjoon, and this is Y/n! We spoke over the phone!” Joon perked up, pulling you along with his strides.

The older couple waved Joon and you on, walking the both of you towards the barn in the back. Having small talk in between the short distance, hearing cute comments about the various animals you passed on the way.

“That’s Molly over there, Mama of the litter.” The older man pointed out a dog laying down in the pasture, her coat was a dark golden tone and it shined in the sunlight. She was watching over at your area, observing the new persons that entered her home. She sniffed the air as the breeze picked up, letting her head lay back down on the ground, but her eyes never left yours.

A loud creaking sound snapped your head towards the barn, watching the woman open up the doors wide for you to enter. Joon and you followed in after the couple, stopping short at a stall on the left. You heard little yips and yaps from the other side of the wall that fenced in the young pups.

You peaked over the edge, instantly widening your eyes when you see six little furry golden retriever puppies playing around with another. All varying in different shades of gold and creams. Your excitement caused you to clutch Joon’s hand tight.

“Oh my god! They’re so cute!”

“You want to go inside? Sometimes it’s easier for you to choose once you spend some time with them.” The older gentleman gestured, unlocking the latch to the wooden door and popping it slightly open, making sure he doesn’t allow any of the pups escape the corridor.

You glanced at Joon quickly, getting reassurance from him before eagerly nodding your head and walking into the pit. Immediately you fell to your knees, allowing any of the puppies to come running on over and jumping up on you. Their fur was so soft, angel-like and had that sweet puppy smell to them. You giggled with the six rambunctious babies. Grabbing a few chew toys and loose rope to play around with. You were happy, completely lucky to be blessed with these cute little ones in front of you.

You took your time with each of the pups, feeling out which one would be yours. Of course, you were tickled pink with glee, and wanted each of them. You joked with Joon briefly, giving him puppy-dog eyes and asked him if you could adopt them all. But unfortunately, you could only choose one. You were so indulged with playing with the puppies you didn’t realize how much time you spent with them. It’s been over twenty minutes before you heard a voice directed towards you.

“Did you find a new friend?” Joon spoke softly towards you. He leaned over the gate, smiling down at how cute you looked with a pile of puppies flooding your space. But he noticed that there was one puppy curled up in your lap, tuckered out and resting itself.

You looked up at Joon, trying to hold back your smile. “I think one found me!”

Then it was decided. The small, dark golden fur ball that laid across your thighs was going to be the newest addition to your world. You exited the stall, carefully holding the puppy in your arms. Joon giving it a small pet on its head before turning back to the cute elders.

“Thank you so much, you were so kind to us. Thank you for allowing us to adopt.” He flashed a smile to them. You thanked them as well, nodding your appreciation while trying not to disturb the sleeping pup.

Joon handed you the keys to head back to the car as he fished through his back pocket for his wallet to pay the man. You walked through the frame of the barn, turning your head back to the older dog named Molly. There was a slight ache in your heart, feeling bad that you were taking away one of her babies. Your smiled towards the animal, thinking that it would settle the upsetting feeling inside your chest.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A deep modulated voice, coming from what seemed to be the elder man, rang through your ears.

Questionably, you turned on your heels, facing back towards the inside of the barn. But you were caught completely off guard when there was a body before you. Down on one knee, with a box raised up between his hand, Namjoon smiled up at you. The black velvet box cracked open, flashing a sparkly stone.

“Y/n.”

You froze, feelings swelling your heart up. You felt your heartbeat in your throat when your jaw dropped. If it wasn’t for the exhausted puppy in your arms you’d probably fall straight down to the floor. This is happening. Holy shit.

Namjoon cleared his throat, realizing he has your full attention. “Y/n… words, actions, even music, cannot express the feelings I have for you. The amount of love I have towards you is unexplainable. I want you to know that I appreciate every waking moment with you, from the very first day you entered my life. Thank you for always being there, for always making me happier, for supporting everything. You are the greatest woman I know, and selfishly I wish to ask you for your hand in marriage because I want you all to myself for the rest of my life.” He spoke confidently, glistening in his eyes he smiled with each word that he admitted.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

Tears fell down your cheeks, your eyes flickering back and forth between Joon and the ring that was bestowed in front of you. Your hand came up to your mouth as your sobbed out loud, shaking your head in reply.

“Yes! – Yes, oh my god yes I will!” You choked on your words, but they were clear enough for Joon to hear.

You rushed yourself towards Joon, wanting to hold him. Joon catches you by your arms, not allowing you to crash yourself into him because of the puppy that you were holding. He held you around your back, pecking your cheek as he held your hand still as he linked the jewelry to your ring-finger. He snuggled against your head while he back hugged you tightly. The puppy, now fully awake from all the commotion, was wiggling around and licking at your crying face.

You heard camera clicks, the sound alerting you to look up at the older couple who each were recording and snapping photos of the scene in front of them. You smiled, half embarrassed but also filled with joy.

Sniffling, your eyes met Joon’s, “You paid them for this?”

“I had offered, but they said that a time like this is priceless.”

One last picture was taken of a smiling newly engaged couple with a brand-new puppy in their arms.

© All rights reserved under @kimtaehyunq​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This tumblr is the ONLY place my fics are posted.

#one shot #bts #bts smut #bts one shot #rm #rm smut #rm one shot #bts rm #bts namjoon #namjoon #knj #namjoon fic #namjoon one shot #namjoon smut #boyfriend namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #boyfriend au #celebrity au #wattpad #atmosphere #kim namjoon one shot #kim namjoon smut #smut #fluff #angst #jeonsink #hoseokin #fanfic

[aifastic]

Winning Lines

The @talesofteufort zine has been shipped, and the PDFs sent! Thank you very much to everyone who contributed. I’m very glad to have been able to participate in this project; it was a wonderful experience and it’s been great working with everyone aaaa ♥

I’m really happy to share my piece for the zine! I really hope you all like it ♥ (Read it below the cut)

Title: Winning Lines Words: 1845 Warnings: None Summary: BLU has a drawing contest. Demo just wants his magazine back.

-----

“ARE YOU MANN ENOUGH TO DRAW THIS BETTER THAN US?”

The header caught BLU’s Demoman’s attention. He’d been reading the latest issue of Hat-Wearing Man when he found the ad at the bottom of one of the pages. There was a somewhat simple drawing of a monkey in a spacesuit. “If you draw Poopy Joe better than our extremely talented artist, we’ll give him the boot—and kick his ass in the process! And your picture will be the new image of our project and you, our lucky friend, will win nothing less than $700 dollars!”

“Huh, it doesn’t look that hard…” he said, pensive. Suddenly, the magazine was snatched from his hands. “Hey!”

“Ohohoh, what’s this?” Scout said, grinning at the magazine. “Hey, I’d win this in the blink of an eye!”

“Oi! Get your own!” Demo took the magazine back. “I’m gonna try this. Mum will love the extra money,” he added to himself.

“Pffft, no way, it’s a waste of mail money, pally. If someone should participate, that’s someone who actually has a chance.”

“Heh.”

They turned around to see Sniper in a corner, grinning.

“What’s your deal, Long Legs?”

“Shut up, ya scoundrel. If anyone has a chance here, it’s me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Demo asked. “Where’s your credentials, mate?”

“Don’t need any,” he said. “Quiet kid, hours at the back of the classroom sketching the teacher being eaten by a croc.” He grinned. “It should be easy as cake.”

“Oi, do ya remember the magazine is mine?”

“I agree, though—the chance should be for whoever’s got the talent.”

Demo sighed. “Aye, alright. But I’m not gonna just give it away.” His face lit up, an idea coming to his mind. “You’ll have to beat me for it.”

“Huh?” Both mercenaries stared at him quizzically.

Demo grinned, eye glinting.

“Let’s have a drawing contest.”

-----

They emptied the kitchen table in order to make room for their sheets of paper, pencils and pens. In the meantime, they threw evaluative gazes at each other, competitive strike flaring up.

The rest of the team slowly wandered to the room to find out what was going on.

“What is noise?” asked Heavy, scratching his chest. Medic, who was right behind him, had just closed it, having found himself too distracted by the ruckus to continue his surgery.

“We’re about to find out who’s gonna win 700 dollars!”

Medic perked up. “I am in. What is the bet?”

“We’re not betting, mate.” Sniper showed him the magazine’s ad. “It’s a contest.”

Medic’s smile turned dangerous. “Even better.”

“Heavy is in, too.”

“Aw, come on, guys! It’s not as if you’re gonna beat me!”

Heavy threw Scout an unimpressed look. “It is fun. I want extra money. I am in.”

“Alright, alright, mate. Sure.” Demo handed them both some extra sheets of paper they'd brought just in case.

Medic excused himself to go search for a couple of pens. On his way out, he almost crashed onto Soldier.

“Ach, watch where you’re going!”

“I need sustenance, maggot! And you’re on my way!” He shoved Medic away, making him stumble on the way out. A couple of German swears could be heard from the corridor. “Hello, everyone!”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna get in too,” Scout groaned.

“In what?” Soldier inquired, tilting his head. Demo showed him the magazine’s ad.

Engineer peeked over his shoulder.

“Oh, a drawing contest?” he said, looking at it with a fond smile. “Heh. It’s been a while since I tried my hand at one o’ those. But I thought they allowed only one entry per ad?”

“That is point,” Heavy said. “We are fighting to get chance to earn money.”

“Oh…” Soldier grinned. “I’m in, maggots! I actually studied art with Kickasso.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Sure, mate,” Demo said, patting his back and attempting to lead him into the kitchen.

“You don’t believe me!” Soldier looked at everyone. Engie shrugged. Scout picked at his nails, and Sniper scratched the table distractedly. Heavy’s eyes said it all. “I will prove it to all of you!” And he headed to the table, snatching a paper sheet from the pile.

Demo brushed a hand across his own face. “I hope Medic brings enough pens.”

“I’ll go for mine,” Engie said. He added, “And I’ll go look for Pyro; they’ll love this.”

Scout groaned. “Anyone else? Maybe Saxton Hale?”

Spy’s laughter can be heard from a corner of the room.

“Oh, this is priceless. I wasn’t going to butt in, but this looks like too much fun to pass on the opportunity.”

“The opportunity to what?” Scout said, miffed.

“You’ll see,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “Besides, you need a referee, don’t you?”

“Ugh,” Scout said, bonking his head on the table.

-----

Everyone looked at each other from their respective places. Scout’s leg bounced nonstop; Sniper picked unconsciously at his pencil. Heavy’s grip on his pen was strong enough for Medic to worry about it breaking.

“Alright,” said Spy. “You have to draw…” He squinted. “Poopy Joe, following the ad’s instructions; the best artist wins. The rules are: no interfering with anyone’s drawing. No kicking under the table. No destroying anyone’s drawing. No rising up from the table until all this is over. No showing your drawing until everyone is finished. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. Pyro hummed happily.

“Excellent. So, on the count of three: One, two… Three!”

Scout’s pen tore onto the paper. “Shit! Do you have a spare?” Spy handed him one. “Thanks,” he muttered.

The truth was, Scout wasn’t that confident of the fact he was going to win. When it was just him and Demo, he’d been sure he’d win to the unsteady hand of a drunk man. And Sniper was all bragging anyways. But Medic? He’d probably drawn lots of skeletons and stuff at college. And Engineer’s schematics always look exactly like the finished product. Shit. And—did Soldier really paint with Kickasso? Nah, he shook his head. He didn’t think so. Heavy was a wild card, though.

But he had to try anyway! He couldn’t back off now. So he put his all into it.

Engineer turned his sheet of paper down. Hell! That was fast. He tried to concentrate in the lines that formed Poopy Joe, and emulated them the best he could. Damn, his hand was sweaty… He hated drawing. His cousin had always been better at it, and it pissed him off even now, far from home.

He slapped his drawing on the table, face down. “Done!” He looked up to see everyone had finished. Crap.

“Alright, then,” said Spy. “Let’s see what you came up with.”

“Come up with?” That had many meanings, but the way Spy said it… “What do you mean?”

“The challenge was to improve on the design of Poopy Joe drawn by the artist, not to copy it.”

“Oh, darn,” Engineer said, showing a perfect copy of the Poopy Joe logo. Holy shit. “Guess I got a bit carried away. I’m more used to copying stuff, ya know.”

Soldier snickered.

“Let’s see what you did, Soldier boy.”

“Alright! Look at it and weep!”

He showed them all a mess of lines with dots in seemingly random places.

“Soldier, that’s…” Scout got elbowed by Demo. “That’s cool. What are… those?”

“Those are his eyes!” Oh, God.

“Let’s see Demo’s!” grinned Soldier, confidently.

“Ach, you know I’m no artist, mate,” he said, showing his drawing. It was… Actually, it was pretty decent. His drawing had a cartoonish style that drew everyone’s eyes in.

“Interesting,” said Spy, nodding approvingly.

“Demo did great job,” Heavy said, crossing his arms.

“Aw, thanks, mate.” Demo shrugged it off, somewhat flustered. “What about yours?”

Heavy showed his drawing. It was simple, a single line delineating the silhouette of the monkey astronaut. It was stylish, though it was difficult to guess what it was at times.

“Wonderful, mein freund!” Medic clapped, and revealed his. It was… Oh, my god. “I might have put a bit too much emphasis on his organs.”

“Next!” yelled Scout, tearing his eyes away from the gory drawing. Shit. Now he had to show his. Alright. You can do this, he told himself.

He turned the page face up.

“Mate,” Sniper said.

“Oh, buddy, we made the same mistake.”

“Y’know? I saw RED’s Scout draw once and I secretly thought we were doomed.”

“Oh, shut up!” Scout said, face beet red. It was true, he’d tried to copy the drawing, like Engineer did. And his lines weren’t as sure as Demo’s or Heavy’s. Shit. He screwed up big time.

“It’s good overall, mate,” Sniper said. “You just need more confidence.”

Scout flushed. “What about yours, Mister Expert?”

Sniper grunted, and showed his drawing. Oh, wow. It was really good! The monkey looked like it’d come out of the page and tear them apart. He felt as if he would be able to touch its fur.

“Wow, Slim! That’s one helluva good drawing!”

“Thanks,” he said, grinning. “I told ya: quiet kid.”

“Where is his spacesuit, though?”

His face dropped. “Aw, hell.”

“Hmmmph!” Pyro yelled, pointing at their sheet of paper.

“Alright,” Spy said, grinning along with Engineer. “The moment of truth has come.”

“What do you mean—?”

Holy shit.

The drawing was astounding. The monkey looked cartoonish enough not to look real, but in a way that made the drawing look alive. Everything was there, and in wonderful detail: The space-suit, the stars… Even an additional full moon in the background that was a perfect circle.

“Holy shit, Py!” Scout said. “How did you do that?”

“Hhmph?” Pyro asked, pointing at the moon. Everyone nodded. Pyro mumbled happily, grabbing another sheet of paper, and drew a classical Greek style face, then erased the rest of its features little by little until they got a perfect circle.

Oh, for the love of—

“Well, it seems we have our winner,” said Spy, handing Pyro the magazine. Pyro clapped with glee, running off with it.

“Aw, man. That was totally unfair. You knew this would happen!” Scout pointed to Spy accusingly.

“I had my suspicions,” he said, grinning.

“Hey, maggots,” Soldier said, sniffing. “Is that smoke?”

They all turned around to watch Pyro as they set the magazine on fire.

“Ach! My magazine!” Demo ran and stomped on it. However, many of the pages, including the drawing contest ad, didn’t make it. “Hell. Why, mate?”

“Hmmphmmphmmph!” they said, pointing at everyone in the room, then at their drawings. Then they clapped.

Everyone looked at each other, and found a common understanding. Who knew what Pyro said? But they had the feeling they meant they were all winners today.

“So it was a huge waste of everyone’s time. Fantastic,” Spy said. “Entertaining, though.”

“Shut up, Spy, we were having a moment,” Scout said.

And yes, indeed. Because even though Demo lost his magazine, he left the room with a good feeling inside. And he was sure that the rest felt the same way.

Poopy Joe’s artist could keep his job for another day.

#Team Fortress 2 #fanfiction #BLU Team #Tales of Teufort #Tales of Teufort zine #[♥]

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 2

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: House Caspian’s only daughter returns to Winterfell, with her family in tow. She’s delighted to see her friends again, but with the end of the visit comes very startling news.

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Only two weeks passed before Y/N got her first letter from Lyanna. It was a long one, full of enthusiasm and clumsy penmanship, asking after Y/N, her family and full of questions about Ramsgate and their keep, Whitetide. Why are your lands called Ramsgate? Are there lots of goats when you move away from the sea? How big is Whitetide? Is it really right on top of the beach?

Y/N eagerly wrote back, and her mother gave her the idea to include some seashells, a starfish and a sand dollar, all little treasures that Y/N collected on her many walks on the beach. She couldn’t wait for Lyanna’s response, asking the guard who watched for deliveries every day if there was something for her. Lady Talia finally had to ask her to leave the poor man alone.

But the next correspondence was by raven, of all things, a little message with a cute drawing of a direwolf and a big thank you from Lyanna and Benjen. The maester handed it to her parents with great confusion, and they in turn blinked at it before giving it to Y/N. She gladly kept it safe in her sketchbook.

The next letter detailed the great scolding Lyanna received for using one of Winterfell’s ravens. She worried her mother wouldn’t let her send any letters at all, but instead she was forced to stay inside for two weeks helping Nan knit and practicing her penmanship with the maester. Y/N giggled at the thought, and made a point to compliment Lyanna’s handwriting. She could already imagine the girl’s grimace and cramped hand.

The letters became a staple in the next year. It was towards the end of the ninth moon when Lyanna sent an especially long one. Y/N read it halfway before she was jumping on top of her bed in excitement.

She ran down the steps, nearly crashing into a washerwoman and narrowly avoiding a guard. Lady Talia frowned at her daughter arriving in the great hall in such a breathless flurry. “Y/N, you’ll trip over your skirts and break open your head if you carry on like that —”

“Mother! Are we going back to Winterfell?”

Lady Talia almost dropped baby Rickard. She recovered herself and sighed. “Oh, it was supposed to be a surprise! Did your father tell you?”

“No, Lyanna did!” Y/N waved the letter at her mother, too fast for the woman to actually look at it’s contents. “When are we going? Is it soon? Is it tomorrow?”

“Yes, soon, sweetling. Think about what things you want to pack. It will be a long stay, so bring all your dresses and some books.”

Y/N almost didn’t hear her. She was buzzing. How long was a long stay? How soon was soon? She would’ve asked a dozen more questions if her mother hadn’t shooed her out.

Two maids helped her pack. Y/N expected to use the small wooden trunk she and Willam shared last time. It was colorfully painted and had manta rays carved into the sides, so she especially liked it. Instead, the maids brought in two large trunks, the ones grown-up ladies used to transport their fine gowns and furs. She gaped at all the space on the inside, and how finely it was lined. A whole person could fit in there, or at least both her and Willam!

She already pulled dresses from the armoire — it was easy, she only had so many — but the maid was taking everything out of her closet, even her long winter socks that probably didn’t fit anymore. The other maid was neatly stacking all of her books.

“Oh, um, I was only taking four,” Y/N said to her.

The maid smiled. “You’ll want all of them, milady.”

No, I only wanted four, Y/N thought, but the maids listened to her lady mother, not her. It would be useless to argue with them. If the men who packed up the carts complained about the weight of her trunks, she’d know what to tell them.

At dinner, her father asked, “All excited for the trip, little ray?” and he was delighted with his daughter’s enthusiastic response. She hadn’t noticed her mother looking less excited, but Lady Talia still gave Y/N a smile when she looked her way.

“I’m going too!” Willam declared, as if he worried he was going to be left behind. Lord Gareth tousled his hair and promised he could ride along with the knights and guards.

Seeing Winterfell for the second time was just like the first;  breathtaking and no less a marvel. It was still hard to believe that a castle that big existed, and it was so close to Ramsgate, and she had a friend waiting inside. She was buzzing to get out of the carriage and just run up to the gates herself, but her mother was far less permissive than her uncle. She fretted over Y/N’s hair and tried to smooth her dress as they rode through the gate, and Y/N used every fiber of self-control not to squirm away. Her mother’s eyes said she was not in the mood to be disobeyed.

Finally, finally, the carriage door opened. Before the Winterfell guard could even greet her, she was flying down the steps.

Y/N heard her mother calling, but she pretended not to hear. The cold, saltless air blew through her hair, and she took a deep breath. It smelled like the dirt of the yard, the savory smoke from the kitchens and the distant pine of the forests. She only had a few moments to take it all in before the wind was thrown right out of her lungs.

Y/N choked as arms were thrown around her. She very nearly teetered over, the only thing stopped her was Lyanna yanking her back. The girl had a frightening grip. “Y/N! You’re here! It’s been forever!”

“I-I am!” Y/N coughed. “My mother is here this time, and Willam is back, and I have some things for you, and —”

“Lyanna, unhand the poor girl.” Lady Stark’s voice was familiar, but her appearance was a surprise again. Y/N realized she’d somewhat forgotten what the Lady looked like, but she remembered the pretty, long hair and grey eyes. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again, sweetling.”

Y/N was able to do a proper curtsy once she was unhanded, but she still felt a little dizzy. “Thank you for having me again, Lady Stark.”

“Where’s your lady mother, and lord father? Goodness, did you run ahead of them?” Lady Stark shook her head, but she didn’t seem truly upset. Had she always been so pale, though? Y/N couldn’t recall, and her friend easily took her attention away.

“Y/N, we have some new horses! You haven’t seen them yet, they’re so pretty. I’ve gotten to ride them already.” Lyanna just realized something. “Mother, can I show her?”

Y/N was expecting Lady Stark to put up a fuss, as her mother might have, but the woman looked too tired. She simply nodded and waved the two girls away. Y/N wondered if it was truly okay, even as Lyanna pulled on her hand. Y/N went along, figuring she’d see her parents and the Lord and Lady Stark at dinner tonight, anyhow. She could do her proper courtesies then.

To Lyanna’s disappointment, the new horses she was so proud of had been taken out on a hunt, so the next stop was the library of Winterfell, which surprised Y/N. She hadn’t taken Lyanna for the type to read these huge, dusty things, but it wasn’t a huge or dusty book that Lyanna pulled out. There was an old chest at the bottom of one of the bookshelves, and when she opened it, a collection of rolled-up parchment was inside. 

Y/N’s nose wrinkled at the smell. “Are we allowed to look at these?”

“They’re here for the Starks.” Lyanna replied. Y/N felt like her friend could have unrolled the old parchment a little neater.

Lyanna set two heavy inkpots in either side of the parchment to keep it from rolling back. The beautiful drawings unfurled before her, and Y/N realized it was a stylistic, detailed map of Westeros. She gasped in delight. “Oh, it’s so pretty!”

The linework was so fine and detailed, each little mountain, tree and even tiny ships on waves were drawn out. She immediately looked for Ramsgate, and it saddened her that the Caspian ray was not there. It was still the merman of Manderly. This must have been a very old map, then.

“Your manta ray isn’t here!” Lyanna realized it as well, perhaps for the first time. “Hmph. They should update these dusty old things.”

“I don’t think that’s possible ... It’s still beautiful.” Y/N said. She sat in the chair with Lyanna; it was so wide, both of them could sit in it with just a little discomfort. Lyanna was skinny for her age, but she was already taller than Y/N. Y/N could swear they were the same height last year. “I love how they painted Winterfell. There’s even direwolves around it, and look here, each castle has its Godswood drawn, too. You can even see some of the Godswoods in the Southern castles, but they’re not as good as the one in Winterfell.”

Lyanna was proud of that. She pointed out some of her favorite parts of the map: The kraken encircling the Iron Islands, the collection of trouts running down Riverrun, the beautiful flowers and crops that covered most of the Reach. She and Y/N shivered as they saw the detailed flayed man of the Boltons, and they admired the horses of the Ryswells.

Lyanna pointed toward the Vale, where the Eyrie was drawn in splendid detail, its white, blue and dark grey ink only slightly faded. A beautiful sky-blue falcon perched on top of it. She tapped it with her finger and sighed. “Ned’s here.”

Y/N didn’t quite understand. She floated her own finger above the parchment, tracing from Winterfell all the way to the Eyrie. “But why? It’s so far away,” She said. “It takes days to get from Whitetide to Winterfell, and only if the weather is good. That’s what my father said.”

“I don’t know.” Lyanna crossed her arms. “I didn’t want him to go. He didn’t, either! But mother and father said it was important for young lords to learn … whatever they said. Hmph. Why couldn’t our maester just teach him?”

“And Brandon is the oldest. Shouldn’t he learn all the important things?”

“He should! He’s thick as an aurochs, though. That doesn’t mean I want him to go away to a big, stupid mountain, too. Even if he deserves it.” Lyanna huffed. “Ned writes sometimes, but letters take too long to go up and down the Eyrie, he said so. He said you have to take a donkey to go up, or ride in a basket of turnips!”

“A basket…?”

“They use a rope to pull you up, like getting water from the well.”

That didn’t seem right, but Y/N didn’t know anything about the Eyrie. Lyanna continued with a huff. “The last letter he sent was all about some lord he’s friends with, a boy named Robert. He’s a Baratheon from Storm’s End. He’s the first son of that house, so why did Ned have to go?”

Y/N knew where Storm’s End was. She was familiar with most coastal cities and keeps, like Oldtown and Lannisport, and Storm’s End was no different. It’s two great walls that looked like big drums, her Uncle said, and she was delighted to see it painted just as he described. There was a rearing black stag sitting atop it, and it was just as far from the Eyrie as the direwolf was.

“It must be very sad to be so far from home,” Y/N said. She couldn’t imagine.

Lyanna frowned. “Ned should come home so I don’t have to hear about stupid Robert anymore.”

“Who’s Robert?”

The sudden voice made Y/N yelp and jump almost a foot in the air, and that reaction made Lyanna fall right out of the chair and onto the floor. She scrambled back to her feet. “Benjen! Don’t sneak up on people!”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention. Who’s Robert?”

“The boy from Ned’s letter, remember? We read it together!”

“Are you allowed to take these maps out?” Benjen asked.

“Ugh, we’re done with it, anyway. You really do sneak around like a shadowcat.” Lyanna removed the inkpots and Y/N took charge of carefully rolling the map. Maybe I can look at it later? The pictures are so pretty … Even if it doesn’t have a manta ray.

“I’m bored.” Benjen said. He clearly expected his sister and Y/N to do something about it.

“We can play a game?” Y/N offered. She watched with some concern as Lyanna closed the trunk and tried to shove it back on the shelves. She couldn’t remember if that’s how it looked when they found it.

After much discussion and debate, hide and seek was declared the game of choice… with some rules. Lyanna made it very clear that they were only hiding inside the living area of the keep, and only in rooms they were allowed inside, and only in rooms with no adults. She looked directly to Benjen as she said all of this. Lyanna was declared “it”, and Benjen wasted little time in grabbing Y/N’s sleeve when she began counting.

“Where should I hide?” Y/N asked. “I don’t know the castle. I could get lost.”

“Just keep going down that hall until you see a big window, and choose any of those rooms,” Benjen pointed. “There’s lots of tables to hide under. Oh, if you find a blue yarn ball anywhere, that’s Nan’s. Tell her I didn’t take it.”

Before Y/N could question that, Benjen shoved her in the direction of the long hallway and went scurrying off. Y/N could only faintly hear Lyanna counting in the library, so she hurried, trying to decide which room to dart into. Lyanna would expect her to hide in one of these rooms. After all, Benjen went somewhere else, somewhere that was actually difficult to find.

She noticed one of the rooms was being occupied. The door was closed, but there was light and warmth coming from under it. Y/N suddenly felt she was intruding, so she walked carefully past it. The voices from inside were feminine, and very familiar. She stopped suddenly when she heard her mother’s familiar laugh.

Her mother’s voice drifted behind the wooden door. Y/N leaned against the door, assuming she’d hear her brother or father, but instead there was another lady’s voice. Lady Stark. They were probably doing needlework by the hearth. She was ready to move on, but she heard her name.

“Y/N is a very dear girl, I think she’ll be happy …”

I’ll be what? Y/N pressed her ear against the wood. She remembered the keyhole, and while it was too small to peek, she could put her ear to it.

“You cannot consider the offer,” That was Lady Stark’s voice that sounded so stern, like when she scolded her children. “You musn’t, Talia.”

“I told Gareth about it, but he said …”

“ … Men are foolish about these things, you shall not …”

It was hard to catch the conversation, and Y/N worried about leaning on the door too hard - it might creak - but her curiosity was burning a hole in her. She couldn’t help but pick up several morsels as  she listened in.

“If they think … my only daughter …”

“… We could always … She’s young, but a good child …”

“… It was supposed to be in a few years, Lyarra …”

A pair of hands grasped Y/N’s shoulders, and she screamed as Lyanna tackled her. “YOU’RE IT!”

There was exclamations and the sound of something breaking inside. Lady Stark swung the door open and was greeted to two girls sprawled on the floor. They were promptly dragged inside and forced to sit and participate in the needlework that the two women were doing. Y/N glanced at both Lady Stark and her mother, both peeved, both not picking up whatever conversation they were having earlier … because it was about her.

Y/N tried to focus on threading the needle. I heard my name, there’s no mistaking it. Am I in trouble?

Thirty minutes into the forced needlework, Lyanna gasped and realized they were supposed to find Benjen. Lady Stark sharply told her to sit. Benjen walked past the open doorway a few minutes later anyway, tying some blue yarn into complicated knots. He stuck his tongue out at Lyanna while his mother’s head was down, and Y/N pulled back Lyanna’s arm to keep her from tossing her embroidery hoop.

Y/N enjoyed an entire week at Winterfell, and she didn’t have a moment without the Stark children. Lyanna was an almost constant presence, of course. They had lessons in the day and ate together in the evening, and at night they even shared a room. They’d whisper and chatter under the furs until one of them finally fell asleep, usually Y/N. Benjen often joined in their more lively activities, and even Brandon would come along now and again, although it was usually just to annoy them. He fancied himself an important “man” of fourteen, and didn’t think much of silly girls.

Lyanna didn’t want Y/N to leave, so she tried not to think about how short a week really was. She hated having to waste time doing embroidery and staying inside, even if Y/N made such beautiful drawings on her canvas, and even if she was a surprisingly elegant dancer at her young age.

It was the seventh day, and Lyanna and Y/N groggily went through their morning routine. The septa helped them lace their clothes and braid their hair. Y/N looked over at her chest, still open and … empty?

“Septa Alys, where are my things?” She asked with some concern.

The septa was not terribly old. She had a sweet disposition and was more prone to wringing her hands instead of scolding whenever Lyanna acted up. “They were put away yesterday, dear. Did you not notice?”

“But why? I’m leaving today.”

Septa Alys was more occupied with Lyanna’s hair. “You’ll have to ask your lady mother and lord father, dear.”

“Maybe the servants were mistaken? I’ll help you put it back.” Lyanna offered, but she didn’t sound happy about it. Now that she was properly awake, she was sullen. She spent most of the previous night sulking.

Septa Alys helped Y/N secure the pearl and silver string in her hair, complimenting how lovely it looked with her pretty hair. Y/N didn’t completely hear her. She walked down the hall with Lyanna, who let out another sigh.

“We can still write,” Y/N said. She wasn’t happy, either, but she didn’t want their last day to be so gloomy. “I’ll send you things again, too.”

Thankfully, Lyanna was willing to be cheered. “I want to send you things too, but we don’t have seashells or anything like that here… I’ll think of something. I’ll send you blue rose petals! You wanted to paint them, right?”

“Oh, yes, I’d love that. Weirwood leaves, too. The ones at your Godswood are so big!”

The girls fell into an easy chatter as they entered the great hall for breakfast. The four parents were there, as Y/N expected, but there was no food on the table - they weren’t even sitting yet. Brandon, Benjen and Willam were nowhere to be seen, nor was Ser Roderick or the maester or any of the other staff that were slowly becoming familiar. Lyanna sensed the strangeness, too.

“Mother, what’s going on?” She asked.

“Girls, we have something important to tell you.” Lady Stark beckoned them. She didn’t look as tired this morning, in fact, she seemed like she was trying to keep from smiling too much. Y/N instantly looked to her mother, who was beaming, and her father, who had a smile with tension behind it. Lord Stark looked thoroughly amused.

“Y/N, do you like it here?” Her mother asked.

Y/N thought it was a silly question, and not what it seemed, but she didn’t know how to answer. “Yes, I like Winterfell very much.”

It was Lord Stark’s voice that boomed, and Y/N didn’t expect it. She startled a little. “Would you like to stay here for a longer time, little Y/N?”

She looked to Lyanna, who was just as confused, then to the parents again. “For how much longer, my lord?”

“Well,” Her mother tried to sound excited, but she was using the same voice she reserved for carefully explaining something to Willam, especially after he was about to cry about something. “Until you’re a woman grown, Y/N. In Winterfell you’ll learn to be a proper lady and wife, doing the same lessons as Lyanna. You’ll be like sisters.”

“Sisters?” Lyanna gaped.

“She’ll live with us for a few years, not as a guest, but as family.” Lady Stark said to her daughter. She didn’t speak to them like they were Willam. “You have heard that Ned is fostering in the Eyrie? It is like that, my dear.”

“Oh.”

She couldn’t believe it. Y/N was struck with absolute disbelief, like she was still walking around in a dream and she’d wake to Lyanna’s arm hitting her in the face again. Happiness hit her, excitement, but also nervousness, and then —

“But - Willam is not staying? Mother and father aren’t …?”

“Just you, little ray,” Her father finally spoke. He bent down to her level, still in light armor in spite of the early hour. “With Lady Stark and the septa, you can get a proper education here. You’re our only daughter, and we want you to be taken care of.”

He sounded sad, and his eyes didn’t meet her’s completely, but he took her hand. Y/N felt like she shouldn’t be excited anymore. Could her family not take care of her? Was baby Rickard really so fussy, was Willam really so much more important?

No, Willam might foster in a few years, too, but not here. He’ll be a page or a squire. It’s an important thing for lords to do, especially first-born ... Mother and Father must expect a lot from me ... 

Even if they had another daughter, Y/N was the oldest by far. She was always responsible for Willam, and she’d already helped plenty with baby Rickard. Her septa and maester were also often pleased with how she progressed in her lessons. A sense of duty and pride filled Y/N, combined with all the other swirling emotions. She’d miss her family very much, but her mother had told her many times about the duties of a grown lady. Wasn’t this part of that?

She felt Lyanna take her hand and squeeze it. Y/N could have been sent anywhere else in the North, or like Ned, far away to some mountain keep — to a place where she had no friends, and no familiar faces.

It must have been very hard for him, Y/N thought suddenly, but she shook those thoughts free when she realized everyone wanted a reaction from her. She nodded, looking toward her father first, because addressing everyone felt frightening. She might start crying.

“I’m very happy,” She said, hoping she sounded as such. She wasn’t sure how she felt; too many emotions were buzzing about and not staying still. “I’ll miss you, and mother, and my brothers … will you still visit? Can I visit?”

“Of course! Especially during the harvest season and the melees.” Lord Stark said.

Her mother added, “You’ll write me weekly, I want to read about all the things you’re doing. Time will pass before you know it.”

“It will be so nice to have lessons with you!” Lyanna blurted. Y/N was surprised how still and quiet she was being up until now. “It’s fine enough with Benjen, but he doesn’t do the lady things I have to. Oh! Mother, will we still share a room?”

“Yes, especially when winter comes, it will be too cold —”

The situation had fully sunk into Lyanna’s mind, and now she couldn’t stop. “You could have a horse of your own! Can you ride? No, you told me, so you’ll learn! I’ll teach you! We can watch the fighters spar, and we can walk in the Godswood, and sometimes when father goes to Winter Town —”

“Lyanna.”

She was hardly discouraged by her mother’s sharp tone. Y/N noticed her father looked much happier, and he kissed her brow before standing back up.

“Let’s break our fast, then!” Lord Stark went to his old friend and slapped his back. “I’ll call the rest in, the Others know where Brandon ran off to, though. Lyarra, where’s that son of your’s?”

“Your son is in the yard, swinging that new sword about. Sit beside us on the dais, sweetling.” Lady Stark patted Y/N on the head as she walked past her. Y/N’s mother smiled approvingly, and pulled her soft braid forward. The pearl glinted in the morning light.

“I’ll send you many more things, so you don’t feel so homesick, little ray.” She said. Then she turned to Lyanna. “It will be nice to have a sister for once, won’t it?”

“Yes, thank the gods.” Lyanna said bluntly, and the adults laughed to themselves, even Lady Stark, who was failing to look embarrassed. While the servants poured in to serve the food, and men at arms entered, and finally Benjen, Brandon and Willam, Y/N was quiet. She filled her plate, but much of it was untouched. Her stomach and her chest were fluttering at the same time, and if maybe one of them would settle, she could eat something more.

Lyanna was excited, too excited, enough to make Y/N feel uneasy. Her parents and Lyanna’s parents were pleased, her friend was delighted, the various members of Winterfell expressed their well-wishes.

Winterfell is big and beautiful, and Lyanna is my very best friend, and her brothers are nice, too. Lady Stark, Lord Stark, the maester, Septa Alys… No one has been unkind to me.

Y/N wanted to excuse herself. The hall was noisy, so she could have slipped away, if only they weren’t on the dais. Benjen was beside her, and he leaned in so their shoulders touched. “What’s the matter?”

She glanced up at his big, wondering eyes, and quickly said, “Nothing.”

Very little escaped Benjen, she knew. He was a year younger, but sometimes Y/N felt like he was older - only sometimes, when he wasn’t teasing them or playing a stupid prank. “It’s okay to be unhappy.”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. “I’m not. I like it here. … I’ll just miss home sometimes, I think.”

“It’d be strange to not miss home, right?” Benjen said. “You said you can’t smell the sea here.”

Y/N deflated. Now she truly wanted to cry, but she held it in, and touched her pearl. There were no pearls in Winterfell, no seashells, no sunsets making the water glitter, no giant ships with their billowing sails. There was no smell of salt or sound of waves.

“I’m sorry,” Benjen said quickly. He touched her hand where she left it, under the table, and squeezed her fingers. It was much gentler than the way Lyanna grasped it. “We should go to Whitetide one day.”

“You’d want to go?”

“I’ve never seen the ocean or a manta ray. Not even a ship.” Benjen looked on the other side of Y/N, where Lyanna was sitting. “Lyanna! Let’s go to Ramsgate.”

“What? When?” She stared at Y/N, as if that was who gave the suggestion.

“Um, some day,” Y/N said. “Maybe some day soon. Our castle isn’t big as Winterfell, or Lord Manderly’s keep, but I’ll show you the  beach and the ships.”

She smiled as she thought of that. She could already see Lyanna building sand castles and getting completely dirty, and Benjen would sneak behind her and dump sand down her tunic. Brandon could come, too. He’d watch the ships with her uncle, or even board one, because he was a lordling and a man now. Maybe, somehow, Ned could come, too. She wondered what he’d like to do on the beach. Perhaps he’d just watch the waves hit the rocks, but that was fine in and of itself - because at night, you could see the stars the sailors navigated with. Y/N knew almost all of them.

This is what she said to Lyanna and Benjen, who listened with rapt attention. As she thought, Lyanna loved the idea of sandcastles, but she wanted to feel the waves crash against her legs, too. Benjen wanted to see a ‘tide pool’, and the little crabs that sat inside them - Y/N couldn’t imagine why he wanted to catch one of the mean things. Even Brandon overheard them, and chimed in. He couldn’t hide his own curiosity as he asked questions about House Caspian’s flagship.

When she returned to Lyanna’s room, her trunk had been stowed away somewhere, and her clothes were in Lyanna’s armoire. Her books were on a small shelf, and her other few belongings were with them. I need to ask mother and father to send my paints. She cared more about that than her cloak and riding boots.

It wasn’t long after that her parents and Willam had to leave for Whitetide. As Y/N expected, Willam cried. She hugged him and promised he could visit, or maybe she’d visit, and she’d write letters, although that meant nothing to him. Sometimes he was more like baby Rickard than Benjen. Still, she was glad her little brother had so much affection for her, and she ended up crying herself as she hugged her mother and father. It pained her that she couldn’t give a proper goodbye to Uncle Cole.

All of the Starks and Y/N watched as the carriage, horses and few men-at-arms disappeared. Eventually Lord and Lady Stark returned to the castle, but the children stayed by her side. Lyanna was holding her hand, Benjen slightly leaned on her other side, and behind her was Brandon’s strong presence. He was already so much taller than any of them.

Y/N thought her tears would have dried eventually, but they kept silently falling. She got tired of rubbing at her face with her sleeves, and she was glad no one was bringing attention to it, even if it was making Lyanna sniff at rub at her own eyes.

Y/N felt Brandon’s hand on her head, and while the gesture would normally annoy her, he wasn’t trying to tease her this time. As she looked up at him, Brandon almost looked sad.

“Manta rays shouldn’t be away from the sea for so long,” He said. “So you’ll have to be a wolf for now.”

“She’s too nice and pretty to be a she-wolf,” Benjen said.

Lyanna quickly asked, “What does that make me?”

“It won’t be for long.” Brandon said. Y/N couldn’t help but notice that for once, he seemed unsure with his words. He was usually so self-assured. The lordling gently touched her hair, where the pearl was tied in. “You’ll always have that to remember.”

Y/N looked down at the iridescent pearl, and while the silver glinted prettily in the sunlight, the pearl’s beauty was something else. It was a little bigger than  her thumb. It wouldn’t be her only pearl, but it was her first, and her father did away with several before finding this one for her. It was almost a perfect sphere, almost.

Brandon seemed done with sentiment for the day. He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned away. “I’m going to practice. Lyanna, your face is going to stick like that if you keep making a stupid face.”

“Your face is already stuck with stupid, Bran!” Lyanna retorted hotly, then added, “And use your sword like a sword when you practice today, yesterday you flailed it like a reed!”

Y/N laughed as she rubbed the last of the tears from her eyes. Benjen said, “There’s some snow up on the walls, want to make snowballs?”

“Yes, and throw them!”

“At what?” Y/N asked. “Each other? Our dresses will get wet.”

“So we’ll throw them at someone not in a dress.” Lyanna looked at Brandon’s retreating figure pointedly. She pulled up her skirt to her calves, always the one who had to get a head start, even if it wasn’t a race. “Come on! I know the fastest way!”

#game of thrones x reader #ned stark x reader #game of thrones imagines #ned stark #salt & snow #libra fics