#I feel that I’m really good at lying sometimes like I don’t have a poker face for shit when it comes to lying just to mess with someone but

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Scarlet, congratulations!

For your song fic blurb, if possible, I would like to request Spencer and Female Reader post prison blurb based on or inspired by the song ‘Hungry Eyes’ by Eric Carmen from Dirty Dancing. Fluffy, please.

Thank you!

🙏

Thank you my love! Hope this was the kind of thing you were after! ❤️

Send me emojis for my milestone celebration and I’ll write you a blurb.

Summary - Spencer’s done a really good job keeping his secret feelings for you hidden. But after prison his poker face just isn’t as good as it used to be and his eyes might betray him.

CW - mentions of prison, other than that just fluff!

Word Count - 1.1k look at me writing something a reasonable length!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hungry Eyes

Not my gif

Spencer Reid’s poker face was second to none. Whereas the rest of the team all had their tells, little things that gave them away, Spencer was the master of hiding his feelings from his expression.

You’d tried and failed for years to figure out what the genius was thinking at any given moment but he made it an impossible feat.

It was completely deliberate on his part. If you ever caught the look in his eyes when he saw you walk into a room his secret would be out.

If he didn’t compose himself around you, you would surely be able to tell all the ways that he was in love with you.

So he always controlled his micro expressions around you more so than the others. It was a practiced look, making sure the feelings he held for you didn’t come pouring out of his eyes like waterfalls.

You were his friend and his colleague, it was inappropriate for him to harbour secret feelings for you.

He thought he’d take those feelings for you to his grave. But then he’d been arrested. And maybe after spending three months in a federal facility, his poker face had gotten rusty.

I've been meaning to tell you,

I've got this feelin' that won't subside.

I look at you and I fantasize,

You're mine tonight.

Now, I've got you in my sights.

“I can feel you staring at me.” You spoke without looking up from the case file on your desk.

Spencer felt his cheeks burning as he quickly looked down at his own desk.

“No I wasn’t.” He scoffed, thumbing through the pages of a file he wasn’t reading.

In his peripheral vision, he saw you look over to him across the empty bullpen.

“Spencer, I could see you.” You laughed lightly, sitting back in your chair.

It was late and everyone else had long gone home. You and Spencer often stayed later than anyone else under the pretence of working, but in actuality you just liked spending time together.

He swallowed the lump in his throat caused by your magnificent laugh before looking up again and meeting your gaze.

“It wasn’t intentional. I was thinking about something. I didn’t realise I was looking at you.”

Usually you wouldn’t question it. Normally his expression wouldn’t give anything away so you’d have no reason but to believe him.

But since prison his expressions sometimes faltered slightly.

“You’re lying.” You frowned at him curiously.

“I’m not.” He scratched the side of his head.

“Yes, you are.” You pushed yourself up and slowly headed across the room towards him.

Spencer took a few deep breaths, trying to correct whatever it was that had given him away.

“You’ve been looking at me differently since you got out.” You reached his desk and sat on the edge of it.

With these hungry eyes,

One look at you and I can't disguise.

I've got hungry eyes,

I feel the magic between you and I.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He steadied himself, forcing himself to ignore the fact he could smell your perfume now.

“There’s something in your eyes Spencer. It’s…different. I can’t pinpoint it but it’s different from the way you used to look at me.”

Spencer closed his eyes out of instinct and rubbed them with the balls of his hands as though he could erase all the love that was emanating from them.

When he opened them again, you were still looking at him curiously.

“I guess prison just changed me.” He shrugged. He’d do anything for this conversation to be over.

“Of course.” You sighed, sliding back off his desk, feeling foolish. “You just…you look at me the way…never mind.”

You went to walk away but were surprised when Spencer’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist, encapsulating it and keeping you close.

“What were you going to say?” He kept his hand on you even though you weren’t going anywhere.

You looked up into his beautiful hazel eyes and you could have sworn he was looking at you the way you always looked at him.

And it was only then, as he looked down at you that he saw it. He’d spent so long trying to hide his feelings from you that he’d never noticed you doing the same.

He’d been blind to your own emotions, telling himself it was wrong and stupid of him to feel this way and never once considering you might feel it too.

Your eyes held all the things he’d tried so hard to shield from his own. It was like looking at his feelings in a mirror.

I want to hold you so hear me out,

I want to show you what love's all about.

Darling tonight,

Now, I've got you in my sights.

How had he never seen it before?

“It doesn’t matter, Spence. Just forget it ok?” You pulled your arm free of his hold and continued back towards your desk.

He watched you go, knowing it was so or die time. Either he was really going to take these feelings to the grave with him or he was confessing. Right now.

“Y/N,” he hurried after you and you sighed before turning back to face him.

“What?”

There it was again. A brief flash in your eyes told him he was right, told him what he’d been missing all this time.

“You’re right, I do look at you differently. I guess my poker face took a hit while I was in prison. I’ve always wanted to look at you this way though, I just tried to hide it. But I guess there isn’t any way of hiding it any longer.”

“H-hiding what?” You swallowed, hands shaking at your sides.

“How I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you. How I think you feel about me too…” he chewed on his lip nervously.

With these hungry eyes,

One look at you and I can't disguise.

I've got hungry eyes,

I feel the magic between you and I.

“Took you long enough to realise.” You smiled at him, a soft blush forming on your cheeks.

“Hey, I could say the same to you.” He was edging slowly closer to you.

“My poker face is nowhere as good as yours, Doctor.”

When he reached you, he cautiously cupped your face.

I need you to see,

This love was meant to be.

“My eyes are my tell.” He smiled as he leant in closer. “My eyes will always give away what I’m thinking.”

“I see that.” You whispered. “But right now I think your eyes have said all they're going to say. It’s time for your lips to do the talking.”

Spencer chuckled, drawing you closer to him and finally letting your lips meet in an explosion of pent up longing.

And his lips told you everything his eyes couldn’t.

With my hungry eyes,

I'm dizzy, hungry eyes.

Now, I've got you in my sights,

With my hungry eyes.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #build a blurb #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert

[softguarnere]

Hi, Dove! I saw that you’ve been doing ships, and I wanted to try it! I've never done this before, so I'm a little nervous, but this seemed like fun and I’ve had a tough week at work soooo yeah (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I’m Amber, she/her, from Louisiana. I’m around 5’8 and I have brown eyes and curly brown hair.

I’m an introvert, and it takes a while for me to feel comfortable around people, but once I do I’m pretty talkative and full of sarcasm and pop culture references. I’m also a terrible procrastinator (even with things that I want to do??? Idk) and a perfectionist; if i don’t think I can do something perfectly I just don’t do it at all, which is something that I’m really trying to work on. My love language is words of affirmation. If someone pays me a genuine compliment I will think about it for days! I’m an Enneagram type 9 (Peacemaker). I have a VERY hard time telling people ‘no’ and sometimes agree to do things just to keep others happy, another thing that I’m trying to work on.

I spend my free time watching tv/movies, reading, and making gifs. I always carry a book with me, in case I have a spare minute to read. I’ve been told that I’m a dramatic reader, I can’t keep my reactions to myself and I end up with people asking me what’s happening in my book! However, I’ve mastered my poker face when I read fanfiction 😌 I love driving places because I can have concerts in my car, although I’d rather have someone drive me around and just let me sing… I buy new journals and planners every year, sometimes multiple a year, but I’m not the best at actually using them….I just love how pretty they are and how put together they make me feel when I do use them!

I’m a teacher of two year olds at a childcare center, so my day is full of loud/energetic toddlers! I love my job, and while I do hope to be a mom one day, I’m also very happy when I get to go home to the quiet and my cat! I attend church every Sunday, and I also teach children’s church on Wednesday nights.

Ok, that’s all I can think of to put about myself….I hope this rambling is somewhat coherent! Thank you for taking the time to do this and for sharing your writing!! 🥰

Hi Amber! Thank you so much, I'm so glad that you've enjoyed what I've shard so far 🥰 I love your gifs, so I feel like I'm talking to a celebrity rn hehe 🙈 I'm sorry that you've had a tough week, and I hope it gets better soon! Sending some positive vibes your way ✨

I ship you with . . .

Joseph Liebgott!

I am once again on my introverts with extroverts agenda because I stand by it! When y'all first meet, he would be so determined to see if he could bring you out of your shell. And when he does he would just immediately be so head over heals for you. You guys would have so many inside jokes, and he's thrilled that someone finally gets all his witty references

He would be so supportive of all your endeavors, especially if it's something that you want to do but keep putting off (as someone whose executive dysfunction constantly holds her back, I really feel your pain babe!) One of his main love languages is touch, so if you need it he'll just kind of hold you and softly tell you positive affirmations until you feel like you're at a good place to get going, or at least to start

And omgggg, this man would be throwing compliments at you left and right, especially when you first meet, just because he knows it gets to you and he loves the way you light up when he does it

No but Joe is actually pretty good at communicating what he wants and needs, and that's the hill I will die on. If he sees that you're having a hard time telling someone no, he would be so willing to step in for you and make sure that you don't agree to something that you don't want to do

We all know he likes to read comics, but when you get together his favorite hobby becomes reading comics while he holds you. (Actually, maybe just holding you is his favorite hobby) Either way, if you're lying together on the couch to read, he feels like he's on cloud nine, just because it's so peaceful and makes him feel content. Sometimes he doesn't even read -- he just watches you read because he loves watching how expressive you are

He's a great driver. Does he sometimes get a little angry at everyone else on the road? Yeah, but he drives for a living, so we'll let him have this. Sometimes he gets fed up with driving and wishes that he could just stay home instead, especially if he has to drive out of his way for something on one of his days off. But if you're in the car, he can't even get mad at anyone, because he's too busy trying to sing duets with you, or letting you put on your own personal concert for him. Those are the moments when he thinks he might actually like driving, just because he gets to have fun with you

Okay but I feel like one day you pick up a journal, determined to finally use it, and your heart just drops because omg there's writing in it? Did I accidentally buy a used one somehow? But then you realize it's Lieb's handwriting, and he's written down little notes and drawn little doodles/comics so that you can enjoy them while you're working

Omg he would love your job and how passionate you are about working with kids. After all, he knows that he wants to be a dad some day. He definitely listens to you tell stories about funny things your kids have said and done and it just kinda makes his heart glow because he knows that if you guys decide to have kids that you would be an amazing mom, and he would be so excited to go on that journey with you

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you liked this 💕🕊️

#me 🤝 Liebgott #🤝 = getting super angry while driving lol #I really hope this next week is kinder to you love! #band of brothers ships #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #tumblr friends #joseph liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers headcanon #my writing

[sugarbabyariaeva]

Baby Steps.

I’ve been thinking about writing a blog for awhile now but I could never decide whether I’d write about my crazy and wild life growing up and how lucky and fun it truly was / is or if I should write about the difficulty of navigating this American society I grew up in but trying to find the proper footing that still acknowledged my modest Islamic middle eastern background and also feel free to do as I pleased like the friends I was raised around. Orrrr if I should write about how I have hit rock bottom in my life many times regarding love & relationships with such narcissistic men because of the relationships I witnessed around me as I grew up and how FINALLY at the ripe age of 25, I’m now realizing how these toxic patterns have truly affected me and have really begun the work of healing myself, my nervous system, meditations, health & working out. Lastly, I wondered if I should talk about my other life.. “Eva’s life” that’s my sugar baby name & poker name that I go by.. & that’s just a whole other story. So I figured this blog could be a little bit of everything. Hopefully whoever comes by my page is interested enough & wants to tag along for the ride.

I woke up this morning & didn’t grab my phone to instantly scroll on Instagram or w/e. I wanted to start my day better today with purpose. I have 99 days till my next birthday so gotta make ‘em count right? Somehow I got lost in my photos app and scrolled all the way to the top and saw the last 4-5 years of my life play out. The pics ranged from me happy with family, traveling with friends and partying it upppp vip everything and just living to me being extremely unhappy, unhealthy, unfocused, essentially felt like I was dying inside. I would lose all of this momentarily for these boyfriends (my last was the most painful-and when I say bf’s I mean recent ones.. they were the same lessons diff issues and w diff men) who were like leeches and sucked the life out of me and it’s was painful to feel and see myself begging for human decency over text message screenshots and being verbally abused and humiliating to look back on. No one really gets why you stay in these types of traumatic relationships but they have a way of creating this unearthly addiction you’ve never felt anywhere else until you met them. Doesn’t help when the guy you’re dating looks like he’s built like a Greek god and as if god put him there for you since he seemed so perfect for you specifically. & on your first date you guys felt like this was what you’d been waiting for for so long. Little did we know that was just our unhealed wounds triggering our nervous systems like “NOOOOO don’t do it” lol but I wasn’t aware yet that those butterflies and initial feelings of “wow this is IT” was just my body trying to warn me. I do think we had love and potential but unfortunately, we highlighted the wounds we both had lying beneath the surface waiting to be dealt with and processed.

As I went through the pics I felt the energy in them and decided that I wouldn’t let it ruin my day. I picked up my laptop and began doing my breathwork and once I finished I was feeling so light and good and GRATEFUL that I made it passed those extremely long painful dark dark dark days that I truly did not know how to. Addiction to people is real and it fucks with your mental stability deeply. If it wasn’t for my aunt coming down to la to visit me and seeing how disastrous I was and my cousin who moved to la going through her own depression aka we needed help lol (not to mention she’s a yogi). I don’t think I’d be here and as stupid as that sounds- I was so deep into this toxicity I know I would’ve gotten sick and most likely died somehow. The min she got here all my body aches and scratchy throat etc went away within a day. I could feel it that my vibration was sooo low and I can truly thank my aunt and my spiritual team for truly helping me so much beyond measure and raising my vibe. It was NOT easy still isn’t sometimes. I cry randomly and then I keep it pushing. Sometimes it lingers but I don’t cry cuz I’m sad. I cry for who I was during those dark times, the pain and abuse I endured.. how now I see that he was a fundamentally malicious, manipulative and a very deceptive being. All because of my “job”. Mind you, I was not sugaring then nor was I in poker really. (Lost my normal office job cuz he took me to Miami and wanted to stay an extra couple days and I had work..& I had been super sick (covid) two weeks before and they needed someone full time and hell nah- it just wasn’t it alignment) nonetheless, I knew I couldn’t do another 9-5 (he didn’t, he was a personal trainer and a trapper) & I wasn’t interested in anyone but him so in my head it was just work and I was there to be a poker hostess. He hated it. His ex did it too and yaaa that didn’t work out. Anywayssss, there is absolutely NO excuse for the way I was treated and I’m here to share with whoever reads this that life is SO much better on the other side once you PROCESS your pain, learn WHY you stayed with someone and WHY you were attracted to them in the first place.

With all this being said, I think we can call this a blog that entails life lessons, health & wellness, & a bit of toxicity as well, cuz.. life is all about balance and I’m a sugar baby & I work extremely private underground high stakes poker games in major cities all over the world lol. I call this my powerful feminine era 🤌🏽

Stick along for the ride. It will be fun✨

#100 days of productivity #nostalgia #money #work blogging #toxicity #toxic relationship #trauma #trauma bonding #anxeity #lifelessons #loveyourself #lifeblogging #meditation #peacewithin #breakup #heartbreak #malignant narcissism #narcissticabuseawareness #surviving narcissism #narcissist #healing #happiness #exboyfriend #positive mental attitude #mentalheathawareness #mental health #psychology #empathy

[fruitcoops]

i would love to read coops doing one of those lie detector youtube videos!!

This was such a fun fic to research! I highly recommend watching the Try Guys Lie Detector videos if you'd like some context. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Why are there so many of these?” Remus muttered, shaking his hand around. A series of multicolored wires smacked the table and Marlene rolled her eyes as she passed. “Sorry.”

“Welcome back to Lion Pride!” Sirius said as he turned to the camera with a smile. “I’m Sirius Black, and I’m here today with my husband, Remus Lupin, to get some answers.”

“We are also joined by Mark, who is an expert at reading polygraphs,” Remus added.

A middle-aged man in a blue shirt raised his hand in a slight wave. “Thanks for having me. Since you’re already hooked up, you’ll be going first. This machine measures your sweat, your heart rate, and a couple other common tells for liars. Do you lie often?”

Remus hesitated; Sirius hid a smile in his hand. “No, since I suck at lying, but I’ll do it if it makes somebody feel better. I think I’m pretty good at that.”

They stared at the polygraph for a moment before Mark nodded. “Checks out. Take it away, Sirius.”

Sirius cleared his throat and took a notecard from his stack. “Was going to college worth it?”

“Yes,” Remus answered almost immediately. “I don’t know what I would have done without getting my degree and staying close to hockey. Wouldn’t have met you, for one.”

“True,” Mark said without looking up.

“Do you like my playoff beard?”

“I do, yeah.” Mark raised his eyebrows and Remus pressed his lips together. “Okay, sometimes it’s a little much, but you’re pretty good about keeping things under control.”

“Alright,” Sirius said with playful skepticism. “Good to know. Who’s your favorite Lion?”

“Besides you? Talker.”

“Yeah, we don’t need a polygraph to know that,” Sirius laughed when Mark nodded. “Did you like my last haircut?”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus said under his breath, looking away.

“I knew it.”

“It wasn’t bad—”

“He’s lying,” Mark interrupted.

Remus turned to him with betrayal written all over his expression. “Dude!”

“You are.”

“Answer the question, Loops,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair. “How did you feel about my last haircut?”

He bit his lower lip. “It was a little too short and really threw me off for a couple days. But you didn’t like it, either.”

“I didn’t,” Sirius agreed, grinning. “But I vividly remember several ‘no, honey, you look great’ conversations.”

“Next question,” Remus sighed.

“Ha! This one is self-explanatory. Have you ever lied to me?”

“Yes, but only when I knew it would make you feel better.”

“True,” Mark confirmed.

“Do you think you’re a better dog owner than me?”

Remus thought for a moment. “No.”

“True.”

“Do you think I’m a better dog owner than you?” Sirius asked.

“No. I think we balance each other well, and we wouldn’t be as good apart.”

“True again.”

“Interesting.” Sirius surveyed the cards. “Do you trust me?”

“A hundred percent,” Remus answered without hesitation. Mark nodded.

“Do you think I would be a good dad?”

He rested his chin on his hand, then smiled a little. “I do, yeah. I think you know what to do and what notto do, and you’re very protective without being controlling. So, yeah. You’d be a good dad.”

Mark glanced over. “He’s telling the truth.”

Sirius leaned across the table and kissed Remus on the cheek. “Merci. Oh, this’ll be fun. Is any of our relationship just for show, especially on Lion Pride?”

Remus narrowed his eyes with a hum. “Yes and no.”

“Pick one,” Mark said.

“In a general sense? Yeah, sure. We’re not perfect all the time, but we pretend to be. The specifics stay honest, though. None of our relationship is based on building clout. We keep the core genuine.”

The polygraph beeped for a moment. “He’s telling the truth.”

“This one is super morbid. Ready?” Sirius rested his elbows on the table. “You are Spiderman, and you’re holding two trolleys over a lake. One holds me, and one holds Jules. Which one do you drop?”

“I love you, but I would absolutely drop you,” Remus said after only a brief period of thought.

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius huffed. “I would be so upset if it was the other way around.”

“Right? I love you more than anything, but it’s Jules.”

Remus turned to Mark, who shrugged. “True.”

“Do you think we live together well?” Sirius asked.

“After a full year of it?” Remus laughed. “Yeah, I do.”

“True.”

Sirius checked the list and his eyebrows rose. “You’re going to hate this one.”

“Am I?”

“What do you really think about my parents?”

Remus’ smile turned thin and Sirius spread his hands in a see? motion. He was quiet for a few seconds, then ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’m allowed to use those words on this channel. Um, I don’t like them.”

Mark snorted. “Very true.”

“Last one,” Sirius warned, though his eyes crinkled happily at the edges. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“That’s cute,” Remus said. “And…yeah. I think I do.”

“Wrong,” Sirius said before Mark could answer. “You have absolutely no idea.”

“Sap,” Remus scoffed. His cheeks were pink, and he pressed a quick kiss to Sirius’ temple while they swapped chairs.

“He was telling the truth,” Mark informed them as he helped Remus untangle his arm and hand, then transferred the devices to Sirius. “Though I am interested to see the flipside. Do you lie often?”

“Not anymore. I’m pretty good at it, though.”

“First one: have you ever had a crush on one of your teammates?”

“Oh, for sure,” Sirius said with a light laugh. “I never did anything about it, but I was the king of pining for a solid decade.”

“True,” Mark affirmed.

Remus cocked an eyebrow. “Who is the handsomest Lion?”

Sirius bit his lip, making a thoughtful noise. “That’s a tough one. I’m assuming a player other than you?”

“Yes.”

“In that case…I think Dumo is the classic definition of ‘handsome’ even though he is so not my type, but Kasey might be the most attractive.”

“Not Pots?” Remus teased. Sirius pulled a face and flicked him on the arm.

“He’s being honest,” Mark said.

“Do you think you’re the best player on the team?”

“…no.”

“He’s lying.”

“Shit.” Sirius sighed heavily as Remus looked at him over the edge of his notecard. “Look, it’s—it’s not an ego thing.”

“It’s the captain thing, isn’t it?” Remus sounded quite amused.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, defeated. “It’s stupid, I know.”

Mark nodded. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Oh, another parent one,” Remus remarked. “Did my parents scare you?”

“Not really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “You’re right in the middle.”

“Huh.” He thought for a few seconds. “I think seeing you all together was a lot like meeting Dumo’s family the first time. You’re just so…normal. And you genuinely like each other. So I wasn’t scared, but it was definitely an adjustment.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, they adore you. I’m glad we didn’t chase you off, though. Does it really bother you that I leave my socks around the house?”

Sirius pressed his lips together as several people off-screen began to laugh. “I can’t answer that.”

“See, that’s all the answer I need.”

“Fine. Yes, but only because I don’t know where you get them from. You don’t actually own that many socks, and I still find them every-fucking-where.”

“True,” Mark said.

“I’ll try to keep a better eye on things,” Remus assured him, smiling. “You are Spiderman, and you’re holding two trolleys over a lake. One holds me, and one holds James. Which one do you drop?”

“Goddammit,” Sirius muttered, tilting his head back. He thought for a long, long moment. “I can’t answer that.”

The polygraph buzzed. “False.”

Sirius shook his head. “Neither of you. I wouldn’t drop either.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “True.”

“On a much lighter note,” Remus said with a cough. “Which of us is lazier?”

“Me.”

“True.”

“Really?” Remus gave him a baffled look. “You work so hard all the time.”

Sirius shrugged. “Agree to disagree?”

“Fine, but I hope you know taking time for yourself doesn’t mean you’re lazy.” He shuffled through the cards. “Oh, this’ll be very interesting. Do you think I talk too much?”

“No.”

“True.”

Remus sat back in his chair, a pleased blush coloring his cheeks. “Wasn’t expecting that. Good answer, I love you. Do you think we’ll get divorced someday?”

“Oh, god, no.” Sirius’ previous self-satisfaction turned to revulsion. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

“True,” Mark said again. “For someone who said he was good at lying, you’re very honest.”

“No point in lying with that thing around, is there?”

Remus shrugged. “Saves time, for sure. Have you kissed any of our friends?”

“Yeah,” he snorted.

To his credit, Mark didn’t even let a smile slip through. “True.”

“Do you enjoy getting stopped in public by fans?”

“Fans, yes. Ex-fans who take it upon themselves to explain why I shouldn’t be gay, no.” He paused, then shook his head with a smile. “I’m not good at talking to people, but I do like it when people say hello. It’s cool.”

“True.”

Remus raised his notecards. “Two left, and the first one is hella morbid.”

“Hella,” Sirius murmured, earning himself a teasing glare.

“Watch it. If I died, how long would you wait to get remarried?”

The playfulness dropped away. “What?”

“If I died, how long would you wait to get remarried?” Remus repeated.

Sirius looked horrified by the very thought. “I wouldn’t.”

“True,” Mark said, seemingly uncaring about the alarm on Sirius’ face.

“Even if it happened tomorrow?”

“First of all, thanks for my new nightmare. Second, no. I wouldn’t get married again.” He kissed Remus’ forehead gently. “Let’s not test that, though. Like ever.”

“Deal. Ready for the last one?”

“As long as nobody else is in danger of death.”

“I dunno, it’s a tough one.” Remus gave him a solemn look across the table. “I need you to be really honest with me on this one. Do you think you have better hair?”

Sirius blinked at him, then burst out laughing. Even Mark’s lips twitched into a suppressed smile. “Oh my god.”

“What’s so funny?” Remus asked, completely poker-faced. “This is important, honey. I’m really counting on you to be genuine with me here—”

“You can’t even—” Sirius broke off again and gestured to Remus’ face, which turned steadily pinker as he bit down a grin. “You can’t even keep a straight face.”

“My face is the only straight thing about me. You know this. Answer the question.”

“He’s trying so hard,” Sirius managed as he looked to the camera. “So hard, mon dieu.”

“Shit,” Remus muttered as he finally gave in and hid his laughter in the crook of his elbow. “We were doing so well until now! It’s the last question, just answer it!”

Sirius wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and nodded. “I do think I have better hair, but I love yours, too.”

Mark chuckled. “True.”

“It would help if you finally got a haircut that was different from the one you’ve had since you were thirteen.”

Remus closed his eyes, sighing. “Y’know, exposing my haircut choices for the entire internet to mock really wasn’t how I planned this day going.”

“Isn’t that the point of this whole video?”

“Mark, I’m not sure if we owe you an apology or not, but thank you for putting up with us.” Remus turned back to the camera with an easy smile. “Thanks for joining us today, everyone. Make sure to like and subscribe to Lion Pride for more videos like this!”

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #social media #lion pride #lie detector

[pillage-and-lute]

Prompt: fake realtionahip/marriage, whoever you like!

Ooohoho! This has been chilling as a draft for ages, now I have completed it. *mildly evil laughter*

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The funny thing about Geralt, Jaskier thought as he did up the buttons on his best doublet, was that he really didn’t lie. He said things that weren’t true, but they were usually things he believed, or thought he believed because he was tired or grumpy. Sometimes he told half truths. He didn’t lie though.

It wasn’t even as if he didn’t have a poker face, Geralt’s face was all poker face, he just hated lying. Normally it wasn’t an issue, but tonight, Jaskier reflected, it wouldn’t be ideal.

Jaskier had heard through some whispered words at a pub that a bunch of Nilfgaardian nobles were having a gala, and the temptation of finding out what political secrets they could was two strong for their odd little family. So Geralt and Jaskier were going undercover.

There had been quite a bit of debate about that. Jaskier was obviously going. He’d grown his hair longer and had a bit of scruff going, and to be frank, all a bard really needed to disguise themselves was a new name, people saw the clothing and heard the music, but rarely remembered the face. Yennefer would have been the ideal partner in crime except for a crucial thing.

When Yennefer had been changed by magic, her eyes had been left the same. Somehow, the transformation had solidified them, and no spell would change them. Her eyes were too distinctive, and so she would stay behind with Ciri. That left Geralt, and since the ball was only for the nobility, he would be the fiance of Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.

Damn.

See, Geralt didn’t lie, and that was bad enough. Jaskier wouldn’t be able to rely on Yennefer’s in-depth knowledge of the nobility and that was worse. Worst of all though, was the fact that Jaskier would have to spend a night full of wine and dancing pretending to be in love with, and engaged to, Geralt. Who he loved.

And who had, not three months ago, blamed Jaskier for every bad thing in life.

Since then Geralt had caught up with him half-way down the mountain and there had been some grumbled words about how Jaskier ‘wasn’t actually, exactly, a total curse’. Not a glowing review, but then Cintra had fallen, and they had Cirilla and they’d found a wounded Yennefer and it had all gotten so very busy.

Jaskier cast a last look in the mirror as the door to his room creaked open. He turned, expecting Geralt, but it was Yennefer.

“I suppose,” she said, eyeing him. “That this is as good as you get.” It could have been said cruelly. A year ago it would have been. Now, though, the words were fond. 

“I like the kohl, it goes well with the wrinkles at your eyes,” she winked. He smiled. There were no more wrinkles now than had been twenty years ago, and they both knew it.

“I wasn’t sure about the eyeliner,” Jaskier said, trying to sound haughty. “Overdramatic eye looks are your thing.”

Yennefer chuckled and sat on the end of the bed. “A tiny smudge of eyeliner is hardly overdramatic.” She studied him approvingly, then looked at him. Her expression was frighteningly soft.

“Have you told him that you love him?”

“Never,” Jaskier said, fiving his cravat in the mirror.

“Why ever not?”

“It would only be the mountain all over again,” Jaskier sighed. “I tried, you know. I spent years trying, and then on the mountain, I thought I was being clear...”

“What did you say?”

“I asked him to leave it all, just for a little while, with me. I thought we could go to the coast.”

“The coast,” Yennefer said from her spot on the bed. “As in Lettenhove? You wanted to show him where you grew up?”

“Partially. I could explain the immortality business easier if he met my sister, but mostly I just thought it would be peaceful.”

Yennefer snorted. “With Geralt? Peaceful? He’d spend the whole time fighting drowners and telling you not to write about mermaids because they’re vicious.”

Jaskier smiled wanly. “That’s pretty peaceful for him.”

“But he said no?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Jaskier said. “Then he, well, you know, he spent the night in your tent.”

“Ah,” Yennefer said. “For what it’s worth, I hate that it happened too.”

“He doesn’t though!” Jaskier cried, whirling around to face her. “He wants it to happen again! And you! You don’t want him but he wants you while I want him!” The frustration of the whole situation and nerves for what was to come were overwhelming. “And you’re here, trying to help me,” he said more quietly. “Why?”

“Because I like you,” Yennefer said, simply, standing from the bed. “And I like him. I also never, ever want to kiss him again. The djinn is sitting, somewhere in my chest, telling me I love him, but the feeling is...sick. It feels like love, as well as I can remember, but it’s poisoned and twisted and I want no part in it.”

Her purple eyes pinned Jaskier to the floor.

“And that poison pales in comparison to how much you love him. He deserves that.”

She swept out the door, tossing a “Sort it out,” over her shoulder.

Well.

The next knock at the door was Geralt, Ciri in tow. Jaskier hoped the witcher hadn’t heard any part of his and Yennefer’s conversation, but he suspected that no one overheard conversations that Yen didn’t want them too. 

“Dandelion!” Ciri said, leaping at him and using the name she’d first met him under. “You look nice! Like a prince in one of your stories!”

Jaskier blushed and thanked her quietly as he scooped her up and tossed her, laughing, onto the bed. 

He looked at Geralt for his opinion.

Oh he looked so good too. Yennefer had charmed him so that anyone else would see a different man in Geralt’s place, but to Jaskier he looked just the same. But he was wearing white. 

A white chemise, the collar and cuffs with fine red embroidery, with a cream colored cape, half length so it fell just to Geralt’s hips. It was embroidered too, green and pink and so many other colors, despite being overall still mostly cream. The pants were the same creamy fabric with a stripe down each side. Dark boots and a wide, decorative, dark belt completed the look.

“Wow,” Jaskier said.

“Rivian traditional clothing,” Geralt muttered. 

“I thought you’d hardly actually been to Rivia,” Jaskier said,.It was a better choice than the other thoughts in his head, which were half-formed screams about how absolutely skin tight those pants were.

“I haven’t been, but my...character is.”

“Right,” Jaskier said, dragging his eyes above Geralt’s shoulders. “My fiance, Ludomir of Rivia.”

Geralt said nothing.

Jaskier kicked himself for mentioning the fiance thing.

“We should go,” he said.

And they went.

The lord’s castle was small, as castles go, and the guards at the gate didn’t even bother to check their invitations. With all the other lords and ladies streaming past, no one would guess that the pair were out of place. Jaskier and Geralt enterred the ballroom and Jaskier felt his stomach drop straight through to his shoes.

The walls were positively lined with Nilfgaardian soldiers. Geralt’s shoulders stiffened too, but they steered themselves to a feast table as if nothing was wrong.

It took them almost a full circle of the tables to find the two little cards for ‘Viscount de Lettenhove’ and ‘Guest’. Getting onto the guest list had been laughably easy, and Jaskier just sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the stupid title was finally useful for something.

They sat in their places and guests populated the seats around them. There was a lady next to Jaskier who already smelled of the strongly alcoholic sherry that was being served. Her hair, probably a wig towered, and was strung all over with so many pearls and little tiny golden ornaments that when she stepped outside she must surely be attacked by magpies.

“My lady,” Jaskier said, as chivalrous as he could around a mouthful of her rose perfume. “I’m afraid we haven’t had a chance to be introduced.”

“Oooh,” she giggled, “You’re sweet, I’m Dame Au’Vigne, and I can see by your card that you are the Viscount de Lettenhove, I knew your father.”

Yes, Jaskier thought. I remember, he turned down your proposal. Jaskier had been a lad then, barely eight years old, but he remembered through a child’s eyes a mountain of lace and perfume who had offered to marry his father while actually at his mother’s funeral.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said. Heinous bitch, he thought. He remembered rumors too, which are always a bard’s stock and trade, that Dame Au’Vigne’s husbands were always wealthy, usually handsome, and all of them had shockingly short lifespans. 

Rumor also had it that she was backing Nilfgaard financially and had been playing the shipping stock with insider knowledge of their movements. A very good person to be seated next to tonight. 

“May I introduce my fiance, Ludomir of Rivia,” Jaskier said, gesturing to Geralt. Geralt nodded and hummed, somewhat politely.

“How handsome,” Dame Au’Vigne stage whispered. “Where ever did you find him?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jaskier said.

The lord of the castle stood up and gave a droning speech. It was full of euphemisms about ‘upholding standards’ and ‘fostering strong relations’ that boiled down to ‘I’m an untrustworthy bastard who believes that allowing the deaths of my people en masse is fine so long as I make money.’ It was depressing, too, as Jaskier looked around the ballroom to see so many people nodding in agreement. 

Traitors and bastards, the lot of them.

Geralt’s face hadn’t changed even an inch.

“So,” Dame Au’Vigne said as the appetizer course was served. “You two aren’t exactly in a honeymoon phase, are you?”

And she was right, for a couple, newly engaged, Jaskier and Geralt hadn’t acted the part yet at all.

“I’m afraid,” Jaskier said, inventing wildly. “That we’re both just a touch nervous, the engagement is so new, you see, and this is our first event,” he took Geralt’s hand, above the table, so Dame Au’Vigne could see. “As a couple.”

“Oh how sweet,” she said airily. “You know, they’ll have dancing between the courses, it’ll be a great way for you to wet your social feet. Sir Erdin and the lady in the lavender dress,” she pointed across the ballroom. “They’re newly engaged as well.” She lowered her voice.

“Sir Erdin is very supportive of the cause, word has it he’s in with the very inner circle,” Dame Au’Vigne giggled, as if being in the inner circle of a murderous group of intruders was as delightful as a recent engagement.

“How interesting!” Jaskier said, affecting a jealous and impressed tone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geralt’s eyebrow twitch, the way it did when he was listening hard.

“Oh yes,” Dame Au’Vigne said. “And Lord Snapcase, in the corner, he...” and she went on, was the marvelous thing, she couldn’t seem to help herself but gossip about everyone. And she had all these details about how they were helping ‘the cause’. Destiny must have finally decided to throw Jaskier and Geralt a bone.

Then the appetizer course was finished and Jaskier felt much less lucky. Dame Au’Vigne was ushering him and Geralt out of their seats to dance. It wasn’t one of the quick, hopping around, switching partners dances either. No, the band seemed insistent on only slow, romantic music. 

Awkwardly, Geralt slid one large hand around Jaskier’s waist and they turned in slow circles on the dance floor. The witcher’s face looked like a thunderclap.

“Try and look like you’re having fun, darling,” Jaskier said. Please don’t look at me as though holding me is torture, his inner self begged.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. Jaskier leaned in.

“Really dear heart,” he leaned in even closer, lips almost touching Geralt’s ear. “People are going to suspect something,” he said in the barest of whispers.

“Let them,” Geralt hissed back in the same fashion. “We’ve got the information, we can leave.” 

Jaskier, keeping up appearances, tossed his head back and let out a delighted shriek of laughter, as if Geralt had just told him a joke or, perhaps, made a wonderfully indecent proposal.

“Later, perhaps,” he said, stage-whispering for the sake of those around them. Leaning in again he whispered for real, “We can’t leave until the party’s over, no one else will, they’d send some of those soldiers after us for sure.”

The music changed, and Geralt and Jaskier’s slow circles changed speed with it. 

Geralt hissed in his ear again, “I don’t see why I had to be your,” this close Jaskier could see Geralt’s jaw working with distaste. “Lover.”

“Fiance,” Jaskier said, trying not to let his heart sink. It couldn’t possibly go any lower. “There’s a difference.”

They said no more to each other, and after the second dance, declined the third to sit back at their seats and await the arrival of the soup course.

The man sat beside Geralt was some old military man, mostly mustache and the rest of him was a rather musty and very old fashioned uniform. It had gold braid and a colonel’s insignia. The hat that sat next to his chair had a plume. 

He leaned over to Geralt and said, rather loudly, in a voice that implied tone deafness, to both volume and social situations, “Just marrying him for the money, eh?”

People to both sides of Jaskier and Geralt looked around. Dame Au’Vigne looked at them askance.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. It was a negative answer to the colonel’s question, but the man didn’t take it as such.

“Often is the way,” the man nearly bellowed. “My missus hated me right up to the day she died.”

Jaskier curled in on himself. The role of Viscount wasn’t a big one, mostly administrative and, these days, completed by his sister Rowena, who was better at sitting behind a desk. Still, argued a battered part of his long ago but still proper upbringing. The name of Pankratz was being dragged through the mud. Lots of these people would know the name too, these sour, vindictive, unpleasant, murderous people. And they’d know the gossip, would have taken part in the gossip about ‘Young Julian running off to be a bard,’ (this generally said with the same tone as is usually leant to slave trader) and how ‘he’ll never find a good marriage now,’ how he was ‘a disgrace to the name.’ 

And here was their long awaited confirmation. Jaskier-Julian, couldn’t find a good marriage, was being wed only for his money. Of course, more than half the pairings here were only in it for the money, but to have it said, so loudly too, and before the wedding had even happened, it was social condemnation.

Jaskier looked down at the table cloth, his face hot. He’d faced social condemnation before, of course, he’d survive. What hurt was that Geralt wasn’t really protesting, Geralt couldn’t even pretend to like Jaskier, not for a single evening. Twenty years he’d done a good enough job of acting to convince even Jaskier, mostly, apart from the punches and the insults and...maybe Jaskier had been a little blind to the truth but still. 

It was ruining their cover though, so he protested quietly. “Not just for the money,” he said, patting Geralt’s hand where one fist wrapped around his goblet. “My fiance is just shy, that’s all.”

The damage was already done, but the old colonel hiccupped. “Well lad,” he said, giving Geralt a slap on the back. “This ale’s pretty good so drink up. Got me through three years of happy marriage, strong ale did.” The man took a slug of his own drink. “And fourty seven more unhappy years.” He guffawed hugely and unpleasantly, little drops of ale flinging from his mustache. 

Wherever the soul of the unpleasant man’s dead wife was, Jaskier felt sure she was happy to be away from this miserable old drunk.

Geralt, however, was looking at Jaskier. Their eyes met. Jaskier knew he probably looked as hunted as he felt, and his cheeks were probably still burning from the embarassment. Still, it seemed as though Geralt was about to say something. His golden eyes were full of emotion, but Jaskier couldn’t parse out what kind. 

Whatever kind it was, it caused Geralt to take the colonel’s advice and drink like there was no tomorrow. 

Great. Jaskier had driven his companion to drinking. 

He felt a little like doing so himself. 

The soup course was good, hot and savory, but underspiced. Geralt slurped it up gratefully. Jaskier knew that rich food was usually too much for his senses if it was spiced to Jaskier’s taste.

More dancing. Jaskier didn’t stand, at first, assuming that Geralt would rather sit and drink more. There were some snickers as people judged him. Geralt stood though, and he offered a hand and led Jaskier to the dance floor.

“You need to act drunk,” Jaskier whispered in his ear. “If you were a normal man you would be.”

“I am acting,” Geralt rumbled.

“You’re very steady for a drunk,” Jaskier sniffed.

“You said I was shy, now I’m less shy,” Geralt whispered. “And I’ve been drinking. So...drunk.” It was torture, being held like this, having that voice in Jaskier’s ear. That hand, so warm cupping his own. He wanted to cry.

A couple whirled past them. It was the Dame Au’Vigne, gossiping to some new dance partner. A snippet of her words caught them.

“-de Lettenhove. Entirely loveless of course. Unlovable, his father said once, of course as a bard-” then the tide of conversation and other dancers stole the rest of the words.

Jaskier sagged. His father hadn’t been a nice man, and unlovable wasn’t the worst of what he’d been called in his life, but now, with Geralt so close and so disgusted by the prospect...well, it hit a little close to home. 

“Laugh,” Geralt whispered in his ear.

“What?” Jaskier hissed.

“Like before, laugh like before, but...more so. Pretend I said a dirty joke.”

Jaskier did, heads turned as he pretended to laugh, half scandalized and half delighted at something Geralt said.

Geralt even chuckled along with him. Then his hand crept down Jaskier’s back to his hip. It wasn’t dirty. It was just so,so spine tinglingly close to dirty.

It was almost worse. If Geralt had gripped his ass that would have been bad, but this, Jaskier was left to speculate. He had a very active imagination. The couples next to them were giggling and tittering, scandalized, but not too much, at the pair.

They danced all three dances. During the second dance Geralt spun Jaskier out and then back in flashily, dipping him over one arm like a dainty maiden. Jaskier, who was no dainty maiden, knew the strength that elaborate dip must have taken and his head spun. The third dance was slow, and once again they simply held one another and turned in slow circles. Except Geralt pressed their cheeks together in a way that was so intimate that Jaskier finally gave in. Just tonight he had Geralt, all of him, his attention, his warmth. 

There was only so much a bard could take, and Jaskier gave in to the fantasy.

“I wonder how Yennefer is,” Geralt whispered. “And Ciri.”

It was like having cold water poured all over him. Jaskier’s fantasy shattered as soon as it had formed. Of course Geralt wasn’t enjoying this, of course his mind was elsewhere. He had a beautiful sorceress to think of, even if they weren’t sleeping together. Geralt and Yennefer and Ciri made the perfect, happy family. Where did Jaskier fit in to that?

He pulled back a little, already missing the warmth of Geralt’s cheek against his own. They finished the dance stiffly.

Back at the table, squished between Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, the main course was awful. Jaskier couldn’t judge it on the food, which he barely tasted. Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, however, had apparently come to the conclusion that Geralt or, Ludomir, rather, was marrying Jaskier for the money and the sex. They tittered, loudly and drunkely, to those around, and Geralt leaned in.

“Surely we can leave after this course,” he whispered.

Desperate to be rid of the charade, Jaskier thought. To not have to be engaged to me. “Can’t,” he whispered. “Have to stay for dessert and more dancing, else it looks suspect.”

“Hmmm.” It was a displeased hum.

“And, there will be small talk, with dessert. You need to say something, people will think you’re mute.”

“You two twitter into one another’s ears all the time,” Dame Au’Vigne said loudly. She was fully drunk off the sherry and very loud. “But not one kiss,” she lowered her voice, as if trying to be discreet. It didn’t work. “Is it truly as loveless as they say? I know you aren’t waiting until marriage.”

As who say? Jaskier thought. The only person quite that invested seems to be you.

“Not loveless,” Jaskier said. It seemed weak even to his ears.

“Surely you’ll join the dancing again, then,” Dame Au’Vigne said. 

“No,” Jaskier said, fiddling with his napkin. “I’m feeling quite too full to dance, ate too fast, I’m afraid.” He hoped she was too drunk to notice he’d picked at his plate. It seemed she was.

“Lovely little veranda, get some air there,” said a man who, according to Dame Au’Vigne, was shipping weapons to Nilfgaard behind the backs of multiple heads of state.

Jaskier nodded,stood, bowed, and made his escape. He sighed, but wasn’t surprised to find that Geralt had followed along behind. Of course he wanted to escape the party too, but Jaskier wanted to escape...him.

To his shame and surprise, he found tears in his eyes. The pressure of sitting in a room chock full of people who wanted to kill him, combined with the fact that every last one of them reminded him of being bullied in school, and add to that that he was supposed to be fake engaged to Geralt...it was too much. Fake engaged and even in their fake engagement Geralt didn’t like Jaskier. 

Jaskier’s rational brain knew that Geralt did like him, mostly. He just didn’t love him.

Jaskier leaned his elbows on the railing, overlooking some moonlit gardens, and felt the tears roll down his face.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said quietly.

“Yes,” Jaskier said. He knew Geralt could smell the salt of his tears or whatever, but still turned his face away so the witcher couldn’t see.

“I danced with you though.”

Jaskier chuckled wetly. “Nobles dance with people they hate all the time.”

Geralt was quiet for a minute then, very gently, he took one of Jaskier’s hands. “I don’t hate you.”

It was too much, Jaskier started crying in earnest, sobbing.

“C’mon, Jaskier, I like you. A lot.” Geralt was, for him, panicking clearly. Jaskier almost smiled. He was so bad at dealing with other people’s emotion. And his own.

“You’re my friend,” Geralt said, a little stuntedly. “You know I’m not a good liar.”

Too much. Twenty-two years and he finally said the word ‘friends’ and Jaskier wanted more. He whipped around to face Geralt.

“Tell me the truth, then, Geralt. Tell me you love me, it doesn’t have to be the truth for forever, but can you love me just for a night? Can you make it the truth for tonight?” Jaskier’s tears were ugly and blobby and drying up fast but he continued.

“Because I’ve loved you so long I don’t know any other truth,” He leaned forward and planted his forhead on Geralt’s collarbone and sniffled through the last of his tears, curling one, shaking fist into Geralt’s lovely pale cape as he cried. “Just this one night, Geralt, love me back.”

He hadn’t meant to say any of it, was half expecting Geralt to toss him off the low balcony into the bushes below. 

Instead Jaskier was lifted by two strong arms and sat down on the railing. Warm, delightful lips pressed against his and suddenly he was being kissed within an inch of his life. 

“The truth, you want,” Geralt said, pulling back and panting. “Is the only one I can give. I can’t pretend to love you.” Here Geralt looked into Jaskier’s eyes, like being struck by lightning. “I only love you, no pretending, I swear it.”

“But-” Jaskier was cut off.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said, furiously. “I think you think I don’t like you, Jaskier I like you, I love you so much I don’t know what to do and I’m...I’m not good with words. Or emotions.” Geralt’s shoulders dropped a little. “I just am, and the way I am is... The way I am is better with you.” 

Geralt’s face screwed up with anguish. “And I’m the reason you think I don’t like you, it’s my fault and that feels so...so bad. Yennefer’s been working with me on the feelings thing and always says ‘bad isn’t a feeling’ but I can’t tell you what all the feeling is.”

Jaskier was staring, mouth open, as frustrated, stilted, fumbling words left Geralt’s mouth. They sounded angry, but only at himself. Geralt was looking up at him as if seeking benediction.

“Tell me you love me again,” Jaskier said.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Jaskier giggled as Geralt lifted him and spun him around before tucking him in close and kissing his forehead.

“I,” he said.

A kiss to Jaskier’s nose. “Love.”

A deep, breathtaking kiss to his lips. “You.”

There was nothing left for Jaskier to say except, “wow.”

Geralt smiled, that lovely warm little smile he saved for special times and offered his arm to Jaskier. “Shall we?”

They paraded back into the ballroom and danced the final dance of the set. Geralt whispered a suggestion of what he’d really like for dessert and this time Jaskier didn’t have to fake the scandalized giggle. “Back home, perhaps,” he said.

Dessert meant more conversation with Dame Au’Vigne, which was of course unbearable. There was plenty of Champagne though, which was pretty good, and the bubbles seemed to fill Jaskier all the way up. He took pleasure in picturing the downfall of all these horrible people when Nilfgaard was finally defeated for good.

He especially enjoyed sticking it to her gossip when he fed Geralt a strawberry with cream from his fingertips and recieved a kiss in thanks. Geralt was clearly enjoying himself too. He had a sweet tooth, and that certainly helped, but his hand that never left Jaskier’s under the table was a much better clue.

They walked back to the inn, flushed and warm in the cool night air, bidding farewell to the other drunken lords and ladies all filtering to finer inns or grand coaches. 

Then they were alone on their path back, Geralt’s witcher senses confirming their isolation. Then, Geralt, who never told lies, whispered sweet nothings into Jaskier’s ear the entire way home. Jaskier believed every single one.

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It’s done, this one’s quite long and I loved writing it. Geralt is useless at playing pretend, but very good at loving Jaskier in his own way. I imagine his emotion lessons with Yennefer must have been rather intense. 

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fake dating #getting together #fluff #fluff and angst #tiny amount of horniness #read with caution

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

I Know What You’re Thinking, You’re On My Mind (You’re Right)

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Angel are in love and these are different moments in the span of their relationship.

Warning(s): Just a lot of fluffy goodness....okay some angst (it’s me lol) but mostly fluff

Word count: 2,526

AN: This is kind of a songfic, but also not really? I think of it as a bunch of drabbles loosely connected by random parts of a song. Song title and inspo from Come Close by Common ft. Mary J. Blige. The sweetest little fic I’ve ever written. Fat Black girls deserve to be loved loudly. This is for us. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading lovelies! xo

Smile, happiness, you could model it And when you feel opposite I just want you to know Your whole, being is beautiful I'ma do the best I can do Cause I'm my best when I'm with you

The sound of a domino being slammed on the table caused several other park goers to turn their heads and see a striking woman jumping out of her seat.

“That’s domino bitches! Y’all really thought you could beat me in dominoes? Shoulda checked my credentials mofos!” Y/N shouted, a huge smile on her face as she talked shit.

The guys around the table all groaned and huffed as she celebrated her win. Coco swore up and down that he would be the winner and Gilly was just as sure that he would be the one. EZ just wanted to play and Angel kept his mouth shut knowing his girl had been playing dominoes with her father and uncles practically all her life.

“Whatever, Y/N. You not seeing me in poker.” Coco grumbled, though he was fighting to keep a smile off his face. He was impressed.

“Well this aint poker is it? Run me my money.” She replied, rubbing her fingers together before holding out her hand.

The men all pulled out their wallets and placed the correct amount of money into Y/N’s hands. She grinned as she fanned herself with the money before draping her body across the smirking Angel’s lap.

“Oh hey there sexy. If you’re nice I might buy you something with this considerable fortune I just won.” Y/N winked.

“You my sugar mama now?” Angel teasingly asked.

“I do taste sweet so I think I fit the description.”

“Damn right you do.” He smirked, before leaning down to kiss Y/N’s lips.

Santo Padre’s mayor, Antonia Pena, had put together a community fair to help raise money for the town and uplift spirits. It was also a great way for local businesses to showcase what they have to offer. Services and items were put into a raffle that everyone who attended the event got entered into. Y/N even managed to convince Felipe to have a little booth to show off his fine cuts of meat and how they could best be used in meals.

Angel was so in awe of her. She managed to pull even his grumpy ass father out of the house and she was constantly a source of light in his life. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but he knew he never wanted to let her go. He loved her more than anything and he knew she felt the same about him. She never doubted him or made him feel inadequate. She understood even the ugly parts of him. Didn’t excuse or condone his behavior, but she understood it and always reassured him that she knew he could do better.

“Whatchu staring at?” She asked, after the kiss ended and he kept his intense gaze on her.

“My whole world.” He answered honestly and she felt herself get a little emotional.

“If you make me cry in public, I will hurt you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He replied, nipping at her shoulder and making her grin.

I know in the past, love Has been sort of hard on you But I see the God in you I just want to nurture it Though this love may hurt a bit

Neither of them had the best track record when it came to relationships. Angel had an awful habit of doing things without thinking about the consequences of his actions. Impulsive isn’t a strong enough word to describe how he is. He runs on emotion a lot of the time. It frustrates Y/N to no end. She doesn’t operate like that. She rarely if ever acts on impulse. She thinks too much. Worries too much about how people will react to her and her actions. Her hesitance to engage in things before she’s run every possible scenario through her head makes Angel want to pull his hair out. He hates seeing her unsure of herself. He makes it his mission to help her just get lost in the moment sometimes. And she tries her hardest to slow him down and make him think more on things before he acts.

His lifestyle also guaranteed their love won’t always be sunshine and roses. The first time Angel got hurt Y/N thought she was going to pass out. The level of panic and fear she felt almost took her down. When she finally got to see him in the hospital bed, she burst into tears. Once he was healed, she tried to pull away from him but he wouldn’t let her. The one time Y/N was verbally and physically accosted in front of Angel, he almost shot someone right in front of her. The need to protect her almost overrode his need to keep her away from the more violent side of himself.

The silence was deafening. Neither one was ready to take the first step and speak. The whole ride back home, Y/N never said a word. Not when Angel was getting chewed out by Bishop or when several people practically gawked at her even as they tried to make it seem like they weren’t. She was silent as she went through her nightly routine and prepared for bed.

It was as she sat on the edge of the bed, preparing to slide under the covers that Angel finally snapped.

“You’re really not gonna fucking say anything?” He practically growled at her, glaring at her from where he stood at the foot of the bed. He had on his usual sleepwear of a tank top and sweats.

She sighed, “What do you want me to say Angel?”

“Anything. Cuss me out, kiss me, or I don’t know, maybe thank me?” He suggested, sarcasm in his voice at the last part because he was clearly exasperated.

She cut her eyes at him fiercely. “Thank you? You want me to thank you?”

“Yes.” He stubbornly confirmed.

She shot up from the bed and spun to face him full on. She had never been so mad at him. “Thank you Angel for causing a bigger scene. Thank you Angel for almost igniting a war between two gangs over one stupid joke. Thank you for putting yourself in harm's way and almost giving me a heart attack. Thank you so much Angel.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. It wasn’t just a stupid joke. You think I care so little about you that I wouldn’t fuck someone up for you?”

“I’ve heard way worse..” She argued, so used to minimizing her pain. Her dismissal of the incident as something trivial made him even more pissed.

“I don’t give a damn what you heard. Aint nobody gonna disrespect you in front of me and think I’m just gonna let that shit slide.”

“You could have killed him.”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK.” He exploded, making her freeze and stare at him with her mouth slightly open. “You’re mine. I don’t know what kinda cowards you been dealing with before, but I don’t play that shit. There is no joking when it comes to you. Not from some hijo de puta who has the audacity to put his hands on you. He’s lucky the only thing I did was bust him in the head with my pistol.”

“Angel…..” She sighed, her eyes closing as she took in his words. She understood his point but was still uncomfortable with the methods.

He walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead before resting his head on hers. He spoke only after she opened her eyes, “You can be mad. I already know you are, but I’m not apologizing for protecting you.”

She had to get used to being loved and protected so adamantly by someone. So often left to comfort herself and bury her hurt, it took her a while to accept Angel’s form of protection. A part of her kept her guard up waiting for him to turn it against her, but that day never came. Any violent outbursts he had in her presence were never directed at her and so she found herself trusting him whole-heartedly. Her love for him deepened as time moved forward.

You helped me to discover me I just want you to put trust in me

Y/N loved Pops and she enjoyed the family dinners with him and EZ, but she knew he was not the perfect father. He made mistakes and Angel still hasn’t completely dealt with the issues the mistakes left him with. Everything just got buried. She knew when he was starting to feel inadequate or like he didn’t deserve her because he would become even more clingy. He was already very affectionate with her, always having a hand on her back and kissing her head. She loved how open he was, but when he was going through it the touches would have a desperate edge to them. Like he was trying to prove something.

A new episode of Joseline’s Cabaret played on the tv showing off the Puerto Rican Princess’ latest antics. Y/N had on sweats and a tank top as she laid on your back and giggled at the fight on her screen. She doesn't know why she watches that show, but it was entertaining.

Her front door opened and in walked the man she’d been seeing for a year now.

“What did I tell you about leaving this door unlocked?”

“I knew you were coming over so why would I lock it?” She argued, tilting her head back to watch Angel toe off his shoes and take off his kutte.

“You’re so hard headed.” He slapped the outside of her thigh and leaned in for a kiss before lying in between her legs. His head rested on her stomach and her hands immediately began running through his hair. His hands ran over her thighs as he buried his face in her belly and just breathed her in.

“You walked right in so obviously I was right.” Her hands moved from his hair to slide down his back, feeling for any new bruises. “How was your day? Do I gotta kick someone’s ass for messing with my man?” She asked, a teasing tone to her words even though she was kinda being serious.

“I’m all good, mi dulce.” He responded, already knowing her touches were to comfort him but also give herself some peace of mind that he was with her and he was still whole.

It was quiet for a moment before Angel propped his chin on her belly and looked at her. She brought her attention from the television to him. There was a gentle look in his eyes, full of love but also a vulnerability that made her heart clench.

“You love me right?” He gripped her hips tightly as he searched her eyes for the truth in her words.

Her eyes widened at his question. “Of cour-”

He interrupted her. “Because I love you so damn much, querida. I know I’m not easy, but I try to be better for you.”

“Angel…” Her hand gently caressed his cheek as she softly smiled at him. “You are my favorite person in this whole world. You love me like no other and I’ll always love you. Never forget that. And when you do, I’ll be here to remind you.” She leaned forward to kiss his lips and felt his grip on her hips loosen.

The two shared loving kisses for several minutes before he pulled away and kissed her stomach before laying his head back down. His attention finally focused on the television. “What the fuck are you watching?”

She was unable to contain her giggles.

I kind of laugh when you cuss at me The aftermath is you touching me

“Oh, is that funny? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Not at all gorgeous.” His words and his facial expression did not match.

“Then why are you smirking? I’m as serious as a heart attack. If you miss the ceremony where I’m awarded for my work, we’re gonna have some big problems Reyes.” She threatened, not letting that smirk get to her as it usually did. The club pulled him away a lot but some things she just needed him present for.

“Mmhm…how big?” He asked, still joking around.

“Angel!” She admonished, striking out to punch him in the stomach and making him grunt.

“You know I love when you scream my name. Sexy as fuck.” He growled, before playfully tackling her to the bed. She finally laughed as he kissed and nipped at her neck. He pulled back to look down in her eyes. “Hey, come hell or high water Imma be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

The smile she flashed him was bright enough to light the darkest of nights.

I'm tired of the fast lane I want you to have my last name

Dabbing her eyes with a napkin, Y/N smiled as Angel and EZ shared a heartfelt hug after the best man speech. She knew EZ’s speech would be beautiful and she thanked him for his kind words.

“You’re my sister for real now.” He responded, making her wanna cry again but she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before Angel pulled her into a side hug.

“First dance time.” He whispered in her ear, taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

“How does it feel to be Y/N Reyes?” Angel asked, his eyes taking her in. She looked so magnificent in her wedding dress. He wanted to rip it off, but also he couldn’t take his eyes off how good she looked in it. If he shed some tears when she walked down that aisle, who could blame him?

“It feels like the most natural thing in the world. I’m so beyond honored to be Mrs. Angel Reyes.” She responded, her eyes filling with happy tears but she refused to let them fall. She just felt so overwhelmed with happiness. Even though he’d long gotten rid of the jacket, she loved that he actually wore a suit. He hardly ever wore one and it was a damn shame. He looked so delicious she couldn’t wait for them to get back home.

Y/N found herself really taking the moment in. Their family and friends watched them with huge smiles on their faces. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Angel for long as he held her in his arms, his hands always making her feel safe. This was her life and he was her future.

Her eyes twinkled as she asked him, “Ready for forever?”

Come close to me, baby (Yeah, love) Let your love hold you (Let me hold you tonight, babe) I know this world is crazy (It gets crazy, but I'll be right here) What's it without you? (We gon' make it, I love you, I love you, I love you)

#angel reyes #angel reyes x black!reader #black!reader #plus size reader #angel reyes x black!plus size!reader #hhgbyebruh fics #i know what you're thinking you're on my mind

[deanstead]

Always Have Your Back

Pairing: Dean Winchester x WinchesterSister!Reader x Sam Winchester

Request by anon: I was thinking something where they go on a hunt and Sam and Dean are very protective but she convinces them they have to split up. She ends up getting hurt but tries to hide it from them because she thinks they’re gonna be mad but she almost passes out back at the motel from blood loss. Lots of fluff, comfort, and worried brothers, please!

Warnings: angst, mentions of injury, comfort, fluff

A/N: First try at Winchester Sister writings so I hope it turned out well and you like it! Please hit me up in my ask and let me know what you think – should I write more sister fics? This doesn’t really make sense canon-wise but it’s set sometime in the first few seasons of the show (despite the gif)! Hope you guys like it!

*gif not mine*

---

You panted as you ran in the direction that you had seen the Skinwalker run off in, its tail slinking around the corner as he ran from you in dog form.

“Y/N, wait!” Dean yelled, running after you, grabbing you and pulling you towards him, around the corner and behind a wall.

“Let’s take a breath, okay?” Dean said, his eyes darting around before he gave Sam a look.

You were so fixated on the hunt that you barely noticed the exchange between your brothers.

“We need to split up.” You stated, swinging your head around.

“What?” Dean snapped, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. You looked up at your oldest brother, internally sighing.

“Dean, we don’t have time to argue.” You said, looking to Sam for support.

Sam pattered his way over, looking around warily. “Y/N, we don’t even know how many of them there are.”

You clutched your gun. “All the more we should split up.”

Dean put up his hands in frustration. “This is crazy, no way.” He shook his head resolutely.

“Dean!” You protested. “If we split up, we can corner them in.” You paused as you looked back at your brothers. “You know I’m right.”

Sam sighed, a sigh you knew meant Sam was giving in so you looked over to Dean again, a determined expression on your face.

“Look, I’ll be fine. I’m a great shot.” You said, “I won’t get hurt, I promise.”

Dean looked to Sam again. Sam put a hand on your shoulder. “If you need help, I don’t care if it’s a clean shot or not, you set your gun off and I’ll be right there, you hear me?”

You rolled your eyes. Your brothers were protective on normal days but when it came to hunts, they got two or three times more protective. It was a wonder you were as normal and independent as you were when you had grown up with them.

You looked back at Dean. “Fine.” He said, against all his instincts.

“Let’s go.” You said, positioning your gun upwards again.

“Wait.” Dean stopped you. “Be safe.”

You wanted to roll your eyes but stopped yourself, reading the expression on Dean’s face. “I know. Don’t worry.”

You patted his arm and turned away.

Both Dean and Sam took a last look at you before they turned away as well. Sam heading upstairs and Dean heading out the door and around the perimeter of the house.

---

You crept through the house, the silence seeming to press in on you from all sides.

Your ears were pricked and gripping your gun, you looked around. It was so quiet; you were sure the skinwalker would be able to hear you breathing.

You moved into the living room and you heard a low growl behind you. Your heart sank but you spun around, your eyes scanning the dark room.

That’s when you saw it, moving towards you slowly, an animal that had latched onto its prey.

You ticked your gun upwards at the same time that the skinwalker pounced. You grunted as you fired – one, two, three.

Three shots before you were pushed backwards from the combined force of the gun’s recoil and the force of the skinwalker’s paws hitting your shoulders. You fell with a thud and winced as you felt something pierce through your side as your head hit the floor.

---

Sam’s head snapped up as he heard the sound of three shots rip through the air.

“Y/N.” He muttered, not even hesitating now, heading straight towards the sound. Sam held his gun out just to be safe, they weren’t even sure how many of them were in here or around. It made sense that there was more than one, they usually had a pack mentality.

Sam bounded down the stairs taking it twice at a time, his older brother feelers in overdrive.

“Y/N?” He ventured as he reached the bottom of the stairs, angling his gun around the corner as he moved towards the living room where he knew you had headed first. Sam’s eyes fell on the motionless skinwalker, back in its human form, and you trying to climb out from underneath it.

“Y/N!” Sam ran towards you grabbing your upper arms and pulling you towards him.

“About time, Sammy.” You grunted, pulling your foot out from under it and making a face.

“Y/N! Sam! Get down!” Dean’s voice echoed through the house. Sam didn’t even turn to look in Dean’s direction, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down with him, tucking you into him protectively as Dean fired another two shots. And then another two.

By the time you got up again, there were two additional bodies lying motionless in the middle of the room.

“You guys, okay?” Dean asked, his eyes still darting around.

Sam climbed to his feet, helping you up. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, close one.”

Dean shot you a look. “Next time you say it’s a good idea to split up, I’m going to remind you of this.”

You made a face at him as Sam laughed. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Your brothers turned to leave and you turned back to look at the place where you had fallen, kicking the blood-stained fire poker behind the body of the skinwalker that had pounced on you. You opened up your jacket, noticing a small patch of blood seeping through your shirt.

“Y/N! You coming?” Dean yelled.

You swallowed and pulled your jacket around you, just enough to hide the wound but not enough that the blood would seep through. You followed your brothers out the door and climbed into the Impala.

---

You looked out the window as Dean drove back to the motel before looking back at your brothers in the front.

“You okay back there?” Dean asked and Sam turned slightly to glance at you.

You smiled. “Just tired.”

“We’ll be there soon.” Dean reassured and you looked back out the window, noticing that you were already on the street the motel was on.

You discreetly looked back down at the red patch on your lower abdomen. You just needed to get to the motel’s bathroom to stop the bleeding without your brothers finding out. They were going to be pissed. Well, Sam was going to be pissed. Dean would be livid. And you hated it when either of them were mad at you, not to mention both of them. So you kept quiet as the Impala turned into the motel carpark.

You climbed out of the car, careful to keep your expression neutral.

Sam foiled your plan for getting to the bathroom first. Damn Sam and his stupid long legs.

You plopped yourself on the couch. “Sam, hurry up!” You yelled, “I’m the one that was under the dead dog.”

You heard Sam’s chortling laughter from behind the bathroom door and rolled your eyes.

Dean chuckled as he sat on one of the beds, pulling out his guns to clean them.

The bathroom door opened, Sam walking out. “All yours, sis.”

You didn’t feel like getting up anymore but you could feel Dean and Sam’s eyes on you so you gritted your teeth and pushed yourself off the couch. Your eyelids felt heavier than just a second ago.

The room felt strange, like it was tilting to one side.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice trying to break through the fog, before you felt your legs give out under you.

“Y/N!” Both Dean and Sam yelled at the same time. Dean shot off the bed towards you as Sam ran towards you, catching you just in time.

“Hey kid, what’s going on?” Dean asked, his hands on your face. “Did something happen on the hunt?”

“I’m fine.” You grunted.

Sam peeled open your jacket and froze.

“Damn, Y/N.” Sam whispered, as he picked you up, quickly bringing you towards the couch. “Dean.”

“Dean!” Sam called again, before Dean started moving, his eyes still worriedly darting to you before he ran to his bag, pulling out the bandages.

“Y/N, hey sweetie, look at me.” Sam spoke as you tried to focus your eyes on him. “Sammy… I’m sorry…”

“Hey hey, shhh…” Sam soothed and you whined as you felt him press down on your abdomen. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t look that deep. We just need to stop the bleeding.” Sam muttered. Dean looked like he was about to say something but Sam shook his head.

“Dean…” You tried to reach out to your older brother as the room continued to spin around you.

“I’m right here, kid. I’m right here.” Dean said.

Sam glanced at Dean. “Hey, Y/N, I have to stitch this up.” You nodded but tightened your grip on Dean. “This is going to hurt, okay?”

“I’m fine.” You said through gritted teeth.

Sam worked, his eyes snapping up to you face now and then but you smiled back at him to reassure him to keep going. Dean’s grip on you was reassuring but he kept silent and you weren’t really comfortable with the silence.

Without saying a word, Dean picked you up, tucking you comfortably onto the bed he had laid claim on not a few hours ago.

“Dean.” You grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry.”

Dean turned back to you. “We had a deal.”

You sighed. “I know I said I wouldn’t get hurt, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I was…” Dean furrowed his brows as Sam perched on the other side of the bed, facing you.

“Y/N, tell me that’s not why you didn’t tell us.” Sam said.

You looked down at your hands. Dean sat down next to you. “We’re not mad.” You looked up at Dean and gave him a skeptical look.

“Fine, I’m a little mad.” You looked away. “But not because you’re hurt. You have to tell me if you’re hurt, Y/N.”

You looked up again. “I’m your big brother, I’m supposed to protect you and Sammy.” Dean continued, “How am I supposed to do that if you guys run off by yourself or don’t tell me when you’re in trouble?”

You didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, before dragging your eyes up to Dean’s. “I just… I…”

“What?” Sam probed, his hazel eyes watching you.

“I need you guys.” You whispered.

Sam furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? We’re right here.”

“I can’t stand the thought of you being mad at me.” You whispered.

Dean moved, tugging you gently into a hug. “I’ll always have your back, okay? We’re family. Even if we get mad at each other, we’ll always have your back.”

“So you’re not going to leave again?” You looked at Sam this time.

“What…”

“It was because of me, wasn’t it? Back then, when you left for Stanford.” You asked.

You still remembered it like it was yesterday. The big fight you had had with Sam, then Sam and Dad had gotten into it and then Sam was gone.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly. “No, Y/N, no way. I’m sorry.” Sam shook his head, “I’m sorry I left but I promise it had nothing to do with you.”

Dean’s eyes snapped up to Sam’s, nodding towards him.

Taking the cue, Sam scooted closer. “I promise I’m not going anywhere, no matter how mad I am.” Sam put an arm around your shoulders, squashing you in between him and Dean.

You had never been more sure of anything in your life – despite the way you guys lived, no permanent home, sleeping in the Impala, all the evil crap you guys saw, you wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

---

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#dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #Winchester!Sister #Winchester!Reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester imagines #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester imagines #supernatural x reader #resanoona request #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #spn imagines #sam x reader #dean x reader #spn x reader #dean x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #fanfiction #oneshot #imagine

[shyficwriter]

Who's Tougher?

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Guardians find out that Reader maybe isn't Terran while playing with one of those labor pain/period cramp simulators. Inspired by that one episode of Lucifer where Lucifer got tased.

Author’s Note: Based off this dumb post I wrote earlier, because sometimes my dumber ideas are the funniest.

Part 2 here.

Word Count: 2,376 It had started with a bet.

Who was tougher? You or Peter?

Tired of hearing your bickering one day, and after having come across a video on the internet where a couple of guys were using a period cramp simulator, Rocket decided to whip one up with some spare parts he had lying around. Took him about 10 minutes, 15 if you count the time it took him to sort through his spare parts drawer.

You and Peter where sitting at the table with Kraglin when Rocket hopped up and slapped it on the table, interrupting your bickering.

"What's that?" Peter asked, his face one of confusion.

It looked almost like Peter's Zune, only bigger and instead of headphones it had four long wires coming out of it that were attached to thin disk-shaped objects.

"This is gonna settle your argument on who's tougher once and for all so I don't gotta hear your constant whining anymore." Rocket said.

"Hey! It's not constant!" you say, a bit offended, but also not looking forward to doing whatever Rocket was suggesting. "What is that even supposed to do?"

"Saw a video online where a couple of Terran-types were using electric pulses to simulate period cramps. It does that, more or less."

"More or less??" You cry uncertainly, "You want to electrocute us? Because that's what I'm hearing."

Peter laughs, "If you're scared you can just admit that I'm tougher." He leans back in his chair with a smug look that makes you want to smack him.

You glare at him. "I'm not scared. I'm just being cautious of accepting offers to let Rocket stick electrodes on us!"

Kraglin snickers from his side of the table. "Sound scared to me. If Yondu could trust him to wire his fin into his skull, I'm sure ya can trust him not to fry ya with that little thingy-ma-bob."

Yondu, having heard his name while walking by, stops by the table. "What's going on here?"

"Rocket wants to electrocute us!"

"Do not!" Rocket defends. "Well, not much... I just want to settle which one of them is really tougher so they'll quit whining about it."

Yondu shakes his head, chuckling. He looks at you. "So you're really gonna give in and tell Peter he's tougher cuz yer scared of a little shock?"

You glare at him. You knew he was only trying to razz you up, but you couldn't help it. "I'm not scared, I-"

Peter cuts you off. "Then prove it." He was bluffing, he didn't really want to try either. Who in their right mind would willingly let Rocket hook them up to an electric shock machine?? But his poker-face was good. Too good.

"Ugh. Fine. If to only wipe that smug grin off your dumb face." you say, rolling your eyes. "How's it work?"

Rocket grinned, as did the other two. "Ok, so you each get two of these electrodes," He held up the white disk, "and you stick them to your stomach, and then I'll take this," he held up the Zune-looking thing, "and turn it up until one of you taps out."

You begrudgingly took the electrodes from Rocket and he clarified his instructions by telling you both to place them below your belly-button. You retake your seats at Rocket's behest, him cockily saying that you 'might want to sit down for this'.

"Ready?" he smirked.

You looked at Peter's cocky grin and rolled your eyes. "Sure."

Rocket turned the dial. Nothing happened, so you assumed it had only just switched the device on, but you did see Peter give a little jolt.

You turned your head to him and laughed. "What you jumpy for, Mister Cocky? He hasn't started yet."

"Yes I did."

You looked back at Rocket, confused. "What?"

"I did start it. It's on level 1 now."

You look at Peter. He confirms it's on. "You don't feel anything?" he asks. You shake your head.

Rocket give you an odd look and says he's turning it up to 2.

Peter jerks again, softly grunting. "Hey, how high does this go?"

Rocket answers that it goes up to 10, and Peter makes a face that makes it obvious he's regretting his life choices.

"Oh, I can feel it now," you say, your mouth twitching upward in a grin. "It kinda tickles."

"That doesn't seem right?" Rocket switches it off. "Switch your leads, I want to make sure there's not a short in the wires."

You and Peter do what's asked. As soon as Rocket sees all the leads are stuck down properly he cranks it up to 2 without warning.

Peter jerks forward and grabs the table with a grunt. "Dude! What the fuck! A warning would be nice!"

You, however, only start softly giggling with a, "Hey!"

Rocket scratches his head, and turns the knob to 2.5.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut and tries, but fails, to sit back up straight. You also close your eyes, but it's because you've brought a hand to press on your forehead as you lean back in your chair, still giggling.

As soon as Rocket turns the knob to 3, Peter taps out.

Rocket turns the device off and looks at you suspiciously before glancing at Yondu and Kraglin who only shrug in response. "I don't get it? That's not supposed to happen?" Rocket says looking his new device over.

"I'll have a go." says Kraglin. "I bet Pete's just being a baby."

This earns a chuckle from Yondu and an annoyed outburst from Peter, who challenges Yondu to do it with Kraglin if they're both so tough.

Smirking, Yondu actually agrees. You and Peter hand over your leads and Yondu and Kraglin put them on.

Rocket repeats the same process. He starts them out at 1, and neither react. He goes up to 2, and Kraglin winces like Peter had. Up to 3, and Kraglin grunts and starts to grip the table while Yondu only acknowledges he can feel it pinching, but from the look on his face you can tell he's just putting on a tough act.

Rocket turns it up to 4 and Yondu exhales out his nose while looking up at the ceiling. At 6 Kraglin taps out and Rocket turns the device off.

Yondu laughs and tells Peter, "Guess everyone here is tougher than you, boy." to which Peter calls bullshit, says he wasn't ready, and demands to go again, this time against Yondu.

Peter doesn't make it past 4, and you laugh at him, prompting him to glare at you and say, "You wouldn't make it past 4 either!"

You call his bet, laughing, "Guess I'd need to go up against Yondu or Krags then, because we know you sure can't."

Before Peter can retort the rest of the team has come over to see what the fuss is about.

Rocket explains that you're seeing who's the toughest, and this promptly makes Mantis and Groot, in their innocence, want to try. However, this is immediately shot down by Gamora, who says that any game, or whatever it was that you were doing, where you willfully electrocute yourself, was stupid.

Drax, however, says he'll have a go, and Peter jumps on this, telling you, "There you go! Go up against Drax. If you can outlast him I'll finally say you're tougher than me."

"Quill." Yondu says in a warning tone, the implication clear that he didn't think anyone could beat the behemoth and that he knew that Peter egging you on like that would only result in you pushing yourself too hard to prove him wrong and getting hurt.

"Relax, old man!" Peter turned to you with a smug grin. "You can take it, right?" Peter is really pushing his luck, but you agree, taking back your leads from Yondu, and Rocket instructing Drax what to do as he takes Peter's chair.

Once you were both settled Rocket made sure you were ready before turning the device up to 1, then after a moment 2, and after another moment 3, where you had left off before.

Drax was just sitting there unfazed, but you were giggling again like before, prompting Drax to ask you what was so funny.

"It tickles!" you say, covering your face again and giggling harder once Rocket announced he was turning it up to 4.

"I bet you're faking it just to mess with us." Peter grumbled at you as Gamora gave him a strange look.

They heard Mantis giggling and looked over to see Mantis pulling her hand away from your arm, her antennae glowing. "Nope. Not lying. I don't sense any feelings of deception."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense, but here's 5." Rocket said, turning the dial.

You jerked in your seat, drawing one foot up into your chair as you tilted your head back laughing, still covering your face with your hands. "Ok! Ok! Wait a minute!" you squeak.

"Are you saying you give up?" Peter said with a smirk. "Guess that means you can't say you're tougher than me."

You flip him off. "No! I didn't say that!" This makes Yondu chuckle. Like most of the rest of the team he had started grinning at your reactions. You may be being stubborn, but he supposed you being tickled was better than you being in pain, though by all accounts it didn't make sense. He had done it himself, and it most definitely didn't tickle.

"Well it's up to 5, you couldn't get past 4, Pete." Kraglin corrected, letting Peter know that you technically had just proved you were tougher by being able to go to a higher setting than him.

"That's not the deal we made. Besides, how can it count if it only tickles? The higher settings are bound to hurt." He knew his logic was flawed, but he was stubborn too, he wasn't just going to hand you a victory.

Seeing as you weren't giving up yet, Rocket went ahead and dialed it up to 6.

"How you doing Drax?" Kraglin asked.

Drax just shrugged. "Fine. It's not the most pleasant feeling, but it's completely bearable."

They didn't ask how you were doing. It was pretty clear how you were doing. You hadn't quit giggling this whole time, much to Rocket's frustration because it just didn't make sense. It was, however, the only thing keeping Gamora from making Rocket stop. She knew Drax could take almost anything, so he'd be fine. You didn't seem to be in pain at all, so she assumed you must be safe.

Rocket dialed up to 7.

Drax nodded his head. "There it is. I can feel it more now." However, there wasn't an ounce of pain etched into his face. Dude obviously had one hell of a pain tolerance.

You were still curled in your chair. One hand covered your mouth while you giggled, the other rested on your knee. You tried to psyche yourself up. It was only a tickle. You weren't a baby. You got this, right?

The foot that had been in your chair then slammed to the floor as you lurched forward with a shriek of laughter, gripping the metal armrest of your chair as your other hand wrapped around your middle.

"How can that still tickle!? It's turned up to 8!" Rocket questioned in disbelief, holding up the device to Yondu as if to prove it.

"Eight!?" you cry, "You were supposed to tell us, you rabid raccoon!"

Drax began to laugh as well and in disbelief Peter said, "Drax? Seriously?!"

"It doesn't tickle," Drax clarified, his laughter dying into a light chuckle. "It's just very funny to watch the smaller Terran react."

You attempted to glare at Drax for referring to you as the "smaller Terran," but failed at it. You stomped your foot on the ground as you felt the tickle get somehow worse, and knew Rocket had turned it up again. "Rocket! Please!" you whined, making a few of the others laugh. Maybe you don't got this.

"That one was for calling me a raccoon, asshat." Rocket said with a grin, his previous frustration seemingly gone in favor of mischief.

You quickly reach for the little shit, but you recoil as he jumped out of reach, a smug grin on his face as he turned the dial to the last setting.

"And that one was 'cause I can."

Drax barely reacted, but you were suffering.

Shit. Shit. Nothing had ever tickled like this before. You don't got this. You still had a death grip on the arm of the chair and you were laughing so hard you couldn't sit up straight. Screw the bet, time for begging. "Ok! Ok!" you squeal. "Rock-Rocket! Ahaha! Ok! I'm sorry! Please! I can't- I give up!"

Rocket and Peter laughed triumphantly as you continued to plead for mercy. Yondu had pity on you and chuckled saying, "Alright, Rat. That's enou-"

He was cut off by a metallic squeal and a snap that made everyone jump. The sound was only followed by the sounds of your dying laughter as you caught your breath.

You threw your leads up on the table, having had ripped them off when you couldn't take it anymore (and after having finally realized that was an option.) You finally look up at Rocket, still giggly and gasping for breath as you say, "Youhoo suck! Eheheh... you- you little brat... haha... Jeez..." Your eyes were glowing a bright blue that slowly faded as you raised an eyebrow, noting how your companions expressions have changed to something resembling "WTF??"

"What's with the faces?" you ask, only to follow Mantis's eyes down to the arm of your chair, or rather, what used to be the arm of your chair.

You had snapped it, but that wasn't all. It was now twisted both outward & downward and the place you had been gripping it had been crushed to form to the inside of your fist as if it had been made of foam board.

You hear someone hesitantly say, "Ya ain't Terran... are ya?"

You look back up at your friends' expectant faces with a nervous grin, squinting and blushing as you rub the back of your head. "Well, aha... This is awkward..."

#gotg #gotg imagine #x reader #peter quill #rocket raccoon #yondu udonta #kraglin obfonteri #fanfic #fanfiction #yondu lives #funny #fluff #fluffy fanfiction

[brockadoodles]

kiss me at midnight - m. tkachuk

AN: The way i can’t WAIT for the season to start so I can gif short haired Matty... Anyways. uh, I woke up today and chose violence, so here’s a New Year’s fic with one of our favorites. Maybe one day I’ll stop posting at 1 am? Let me know what you think! 

Word Count: 2395

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drinking, otherwise it’s fluffy. 

“Ten dollars says they’re going to make out within the next five minutes.” You quickly turned your head at the voice. You smiled slightly at Matthew, nodding at him to take a seat next to you. You had just met him that evening and had somehow ended up running into him multiple times throughout the night. You laughed softly at his statement as you swirled your rum and coke in your hand. You didn’t even have to look in the direction that he was pointing toward to know exactly who he was talking about. Your roommate had ditched you in favor of his teammate over an hour ago, and in her defense, he was cute and better one of you not to spend New Year’s Eve sulking alone at the bar. 

“I give them three, you’re welcome to hang out and wager me on it.” You joked. Matthew eyed you curiously, anyone that was willing to make a bet with him that quickly was someone he wanted to get to know. He caught the attention of the bartender and ordered himself a drink. He glanced over at your near-empty glass and had another made for you, making sure to tell the bartender to add it to his own tab and not yours. Your friend had very clearly left you to your own devices and he had no intention of doing the same thing, the least he could offer is buying you one drink. You just smiled at him in thanks as another rum and coke was put in your hands to replace the now empty one. 

“Would ya look at that, guess neither of us wins.” Matthew mused as he took a sip of his drink. You quickly turned your head to where your roommate was now pressed against the pool table, kissing his teammate. You rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to Matthew, who was inarguably cute. No harming in shooting your shot with someone you likely wouldn’t see again in a crowded bar in Calgary on New Year’s Eve, right? 

“Bummer. To think I was going to bet you a New Year’s Kiss.” You shrugged, raising your eyebrow a bit toward Matthew, who now had a smirk settling in on his features. He leaned against the bar as he took a step closer to you, positioning his body between your thighs. It wasn’t uncomfortable, you actually found yourself smiling softly at him as you placed a hand on his waist and tugged him slightly closer to you, opening the door for whatever would come next.

“Me and you at midnight? Deal.” You rolled your eyes at him and pat his side, pushing him back just enough to give you some more room. The conversation started flowing after that, and you found yourself getting lost in the stories he was telling. Something about Matthew was captivating. You could blame it on his looks, maybe the way his eyes lit up when he smiled at you, or the way his hair was just long enough to see that it was a bit curly, or maybe it was the way you were sitting close together now, with his leg brushed against yours under the table that you had moved to an hour before. But deep down you knew it wasn’t just because he was some hot stranger who you were hopefully stealing a midnight kiss from, you and Matthew had a connection that you couldn’t quite explain further than it being what everyone describes in shows that you never bothered to believe in. You could only hope that he felt it, too.

Except, he must not have, because when the clock counted down and you prepared yourself to finally kiss him, he just held you close. Matthew tucked you under his arm as the crowd started cheering and he made no move to kiss you, something that even in your drunken state was causing disappointment. What you didn’t know was that he wanted to kiss you more than anything that night, but he wasn’t about to cross a line you had drawn while drunk. He wanted to make sure it was okay before anything happened, so instead, he settled for a soft kiss to your forehead and exchanging numbers as he put you in an uber back to your apartment. Leaving you drunk and confused as if you had just read the signs entirely wrong. 

You spent the next 11 months with Matthew, spending nearly all of your time together. You went to his games, you met each other’s friends, you spent nights with each other and there were so many frustrating pent up moments where if someone would have asked you what you were to each other, you genuinely would have had no answer. Matthew frustrated you in ways that you couldn’t pinpoint because his signals were caught up in the crossfires and you weren’t sure what you meant to him. You knew he cared about you, and sometimes his hand would linger just a bit too long on the small of your back, or he would fall asleep with his arms just enough around you that you would convince yourself that he felt what you had felt for him the entire time. 

You spent months dancing back and forth with Matty, replying that New Year’s Eve night over and over in your head, wondering why he never kissed you. Then you spent months to accept what he was giving you, a friend that cared about you and would do anything for you, but one that simply didn’t harbor the same feelings you held close to your chest. You couldn’t fault him for not feeling the same way, feelings sometimes don’t have a rhyme or reason as to why they happen. Sometimes the hand you’re dealt results in a win, and other times you bet your entire heart only to watch it get cashed out by someone else who didn’t care to have it in the first place. But you had spent a year waiting around for him, and at this point, you just needed to know. 

Matthew answered the phone quickly when he saw that it was you calling. He had just gotten back from a small get together with some of his friends from back home. He smiled softly as he greeted you, breathing a content sigh of relief as he settled down into what would likely be a long chat with you. You were Matthew’s favorite person and even though he hated being on the phone, he’d talk with you for hours about nothing if that was what you wanted. 

“Do you know how there’s that saying about how if you spend New Years with someone, that’s who you’re spending the year with?” Were the first words out of your mouth, acting on a stint of courage that your friends had practically shoved into you the entire time you were with them. They all wanted you and Matty to get your shit together and confess, and you’d be lying if them pressing you wasn’t a factor in this impulsive late-night phone call to the person in question. 

“Yeah, I have heard that one.” Matty smiled into his phone. 

“I have this theory. I think it’s actually that who you miss the most on New Years’ is who you’ll spend the year with.” You were glad this was just a phone call and that matty wasn’t there to see your face. You had been dancing around something with him for so long now, that it felt like you were stuck in an endless game of poker where no one was winning. But you were the dealer now, and you were giving Matthew the cards that would give him a royal flush if he wanted it, and god you hoped he wanted it. 

“You’re going to need to explain that, sweetheart.” 

“We spent last New Years’ together, and you didn’t kiss me. We spent an entire year together and you didn’t kiss me, but there’s something here right? Because I feel like there is, and even though you’re in St. Louis and I’m here all I want is for you to miss me just enough that you’ll come home and finally kiss me.” 

Matthew swore that he felt his heart lurch in his chest as he processed your words. You, the person he had spent the last year getting to know, spending nights together on your couch watching bad reality TV and arguing over what take out to order. You, the person that he thought about more often than not, so much so that he had made a routine of calling you after every away game, just because it was calming to hear your voice on the phone. You, the person that he had so desperately wanted to kiss the year before but didn’t because it wouldn’t have been right with both of you too intoxicated to make that decision. He had spent the last year assuming that you thought of him as just a friend and he had been sulking about it for months. 

“Holy shit, I didn’t think you were into me.” Was absolutely not the most eloquent way that he could have responded to what you had just said. Matthew internally groaned at himself as he listened to the silence that was now coming from your side of the conversation. He was panicking, racking his brain for the right words to string together to make sure you knew he felt exactly the same way as you did. For some reason, just telling you that didn’t feel good enough when you had just about taken his heart right out of his chest from another country away with your confession. 

“Fuck, that was not what I meant to say.” He ran a hand over his face, and he was thankful for once you had asked to just talk on the phone and not FaceTime. 

“I really miss you. And everything you’re feeling, I feel it too.” He finally settled on it, hoping that it was enough to convey his emotions. He knew he wanted you, he had waited a year for this moment to come to its head. A year of him subtly standing by your side, itching to reach his hand out to yours but not daring to make the final touch. A year of him hoping you wouldn’t meet someone else that could take up the space that he desperately wanted to occupy. He spent a year waiting for you, he wasn’t going to wait any longer. Before he could stop himself he grabbed his laptop, pulling up flights as you started to speak again. 

“God, Matty, there have been so many times I almost told you how I felt.” You breathed out. He could tell exactly how you were feeling, he could hear the relief in your voice. He knew that type of relief, the instant gratification a person feels when they give someone their time and effort and it’s all reciprocated. He knew that feeling because as soon as you mentioned you wanted to kiss him, he felt that same relief settle into his chest, a feeling he had been craving for so long now. A feeling he could act on in a matter of hours thanks to a ridiculously over-expensive flight from St. Louis back to Calgary. 

“Can you pick me up tomorrow morning? From the airport?” He asked. You froze in bed, pulling your phone from your ear and looking at the time. It was late, already past midnight which meant it was even later for him. Your heart was racing and you felt like this was some hazy dream that you were bound to wake up from disappointed, the same dream you had experienced probably a hundred times over the last year. Matty was your entire world, and it didn’t feel real that he was finally something tangible. So you told him yes. You told him, yes and you counted down the hours until you got to see him, barely sleeping at all. 

You had never been the type to think you’d be standing outside of security at an airport, living out some terrible moment from a romantic comedy as you waited for the person you loved to come through the gates. But there you were, in one of his old sweatshirts, nervously tapping your foot as you eyed every single person that walked through.

You were totally sure that anyone watching you probably was rolling your eyes at the look on your face, the same lovesick look you see in the very movies you often complain about. But you didn’t care because strangers walking through an airport clutching their coffee at 7 am who you would never see again didn’t matter. Everyone had their own destination that day, their own trip that they were making for their own reasons, and your reason was walking toward you, looking at you like you were the only thing that he could see and that was what mattered. 

Matty dropped his bag to the ground as you jogged up to him. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist and tucked your head against his chest, taking a moment to listen to the steady beat of his heart, the same steady beating that you had listened to so many times before not knowing that it beat only for you. 

“I’m going to kiss you now because I’ve been waiting for a year to do it and I don’t think I can handle waiting any longer.” Matty grabbed your cheek, pulling your gaze up to meet his as his other arm tightened around you. 

“You can kiss me whenever you want now, Matty.” You murmured, letting your eyes flutter closed as you leaned in and pressed your lips lightly to his. You melted into the kiss, letting him pull you closer to deepen it just a little as the early morning travelers kept walking around you. You almost didn’t regret the time spent wishing for this moment, because in a way, the person you spent New Year’s with the year before was the person you spent the year with, and now you got to spend another year with him, being fully and completely each others. It wasn’t midnight, but somehow 7 am felt better than midnight ever could have.  

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matty tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #flames imagine #why do i keep doing this in the middle of the night

[daisylore-au]

The Revival - Day Four, Part One

welcome back to this event in daisy lore ! we’re going to pretend like this isn’t like a whole week late and also pretend that i’m not sick while writing this LMAO so if there’s spelling mistakes or anything please ignore them :D so mushroom pot won the majority vote with fourteen votes, followed by under the chair with ten and then on the sofa with seven votes ! not a single option got under six which made it super close omg

warnings: dereality, angst, mentions of blood + alcohol

“There’s something on the sofa.” Daisy’s eyes brighten. Can it really be that easy? “We’ll start there, and work around the room.”

Making her way over to it, her curiosity only deepens when she sees one of her uncle’s poker chips lying innocently on the sofa, stained with dried red. Picking it up brings back fond memories from when she’d been younger, nestled with Helga and James and trying their best to understand exactly what Quackity had been eagerly telling them.

(”The most important thing in poker is the show you put up,” Quackity had said, sliding them each a poker chip across the table, ignoring Karl’s alarmed Helga, no, when she instantly tried to eat it, “you have next to no chance of winning if you don’t lie and pretend. You guys are good at playing pretend, right?”

“We all are,” a slightly tipsy Sapnap had murmured, resting his head tiredly on George’s, and Daisy hadn’t paid it much attention at the time, “we’re all getting good at playing pretend.”

“I think they’re too young for poker,” George had told Quackity, ignoring his best friend’s words, “Quackity, they’re not getting it.”

“No, no, look, it’s- they’ll get it!” Quackity had insisted. “They’re smart kids. They’re gonna get it - it’s only a matter of time.”)

The memory disintegrates in her mind like sandpaper, and leaves Daisy standing beside Darian, clutching the poker chip and staring at it like it’s red hot. 

We’re all getting good at play pretend.

What had her Uncle meant?

They’re gonna get it. It’s only a matter of time.

“Isn’t that Uncle Q’s?” Darian frowns. “What’s it doing here?”

“Well,” Daisy says, uneasy, “we still don’t know how he had the revive book. It might have something to do with that. I dunno. Or maybe it’s trying to tell me something.

LIVES REMAIN NEUTRAL.

“Well, look what I found from under the chair!” Darian hands her a photograph, which Daisy doesn’t recognise at all. “Isn’t that you an’ your dad and Dream?”

Daisy stares. It is, obviously, she recognises all of them well - but this photo doesn’t exist in her world. Can’t exist, because as far as she knows, her dad doesn’t know Dream too well, and certainly had never taken a photo with him and her like this. In the photo, she’s being swung up into the air by Dream, whose face is a picture of joy and laughter, while George laughs beside him, looking mock-despairing. Just out of frame, she can see Uncle Sam grinning at Dream and Daisy, eyes sparkling with warmth.

And she’s laughing. She’s so, so happy.

For a second, Daisy can only hold the photo, eyes dampening, unable to find the words she wants. This is everything her life could’ve been. Dream... Dream isn’t her dad, but he looks so happy with her in this reality, so content, that for a long, long second, Daisy wishes he had been alongside George. She wants this to be her reality, more than anything.

When she turns over the photo, all it says, in George’s distinct handwriting, is Dream makes an alright father (Daisy, 2). There’s a smiley face drawn next to the words, and Daisy’s chest aches.

YOU GAINED A LIFE! 

LIVES REMAINING: THREE.

“You guys look really happy,” Darian offers quietly, and when Daisy tears her eyes away, sniffing once, he’s looking at her, surprisingly softly. Sometimes she forgets he can be sensitive. “Are you okay?”

Daisy stays quiet, wiping at her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. She doesn’t quite have an answer to that. How does she tell Darian that more than anything, she wishes this could be her reality?

“I hate people crying,” Wilbur says, sounding rather uncomfortable, “I never know what to do. And also I made people cry a lot. It was sort of my talent. Can we keep moving?”

Darian scowls. “I’m going to kick you.”

“You wouldn’t kick an innocent little cat.”

“I would, Wil. You know I would kick you.”

But it’s the distraction Daisy needs. Tucking the photo very delicately into her pocket alongside the poker chip, she wipes her eyes discreetly and looks around the room. Her eyes fall on one thing.

The mushroom pot at the end of the windowledge. 

Tuning out Darian and Wilbur’s bickering, Daisy makes her way towards it, eyeing it cautiously. It’s weirdly out of place in the otherwise too-bright gaudy room, and the mushrooms match the ones in her hair and in the real world. When she touches it, she gasps - it’s the first real feeling thing she’s felt in this strange world, and when she lifts it up and spots a strange wooden button, it looks so real too.

“Careful!” Daisy pulls back at Wilbur jumping onto her shoulder, eyeing her oddly. “If you press that button, I can’t intervene. If you press that button, Daisy, it will just be you and Darian. I won’t interfere with this section of the Void. Not if I can help it.”

Daisy hesitates. Something deep inside her is telling her to press the button. And yet, if she does, she’ll be without Wilbur’s help.

Is she strong enough to do this on her own? Does she even want to?

“It’s up to you, Daisy,” Darian says, crossing his arms, “it’s your call. Will we press it?”

PRESS THE BUTTON (1)

DO NOT PRESS THE BUTTON (2)

(fifteen minutes to decide!)

#> daisy lore: revival event #tw alcohol #tw blood #tw dereality

[criminalhotch]

Porch Kisses~ Aaron Hotchner

Word Count:1.5k

Warnings: nothing it’s pretty fluffy. Hotch cusses once but that’s the craziest it gets.

A/N: I wrote this in second POV to mix it up so if it’s trash or there’s grammar mistakes I am sorry. I did try to proofread it. It is based off of this concept ask: Hotch taking jack to a birthday party for a friend from school and he meets the kid’s aunt and falls for her and it’s so fluffy ughhh

This weekend was your nephew’s 7th birthday party. He was having a few friends over for his party and you came over early to help your sister with everything. She warned you that one of the dad’s was pretty hot and that he worked for the FBI. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t interest you at least a little bit.

You found out that it was Alex’s friend, Jack whose dad your sister was trying to hook you up with. You were busy refilling the punch when you heard Alex scream Jack’s name in excitement so you turned to see the small blonde boy and his dad. His dad was well over 6 feet tall and extremely attractive.

They had a gift bag for Alex that his dad walked over to the gift table then headed towards the drink bowl that you were still refilling with a potpourri of ingredients. “Can I get some or should I wait?” He asked. “I would wait, I haven't added everything so the proportions may be off. I’m almost done though” you explained. “Take your time” he said.

“Your Alex’s aunt right?” He asked as you finished mixing the punch. “Yeah, you’re Jack’s dad right?” You replied. “Yes, you can call me Aaron. It’s a little more specific than Jack’s dad” he laughed lightly. “Alright, Aaron. I’m Y/N” you told him. “I think I can remember that,” he smiled. “So my sister said you work for the FBI?” You offered.

“Yeah, the justice department. I love my job but I’m gone a lot so it’s difficult to be here for Jack as much as I would like to be” he explained. “Well I’m sure Jack’s mom takes good care of him when you’re gone” you said which you quickly realized was a big mistake. “His mom, my ex-wife passed away two years ago but her sister watches him when I’m gone. She’s usually the one to take him to these things. I feel so out of place” he admitted.

“I’m sorry for loss but I know what you mean. My sister asked me to help but I don’t know anyone but our family” you chuckled. “Well now you know me” Aaron smiled as he finally got a cup of punch. “I guess I do” you smiled back as your sister called out it was time for cake.

You and Aaron went your separate ways but you kept sneaking glances at one another and smiled or offered a small wave in the other person’s direction throughout the party. Jack was getting sleepy and Aaron had him tossed over his shoulder as he was getting ready to leave. It made you sad that you weren’t going to see this devilishly handsome man again but then he started walking towards you.

“So my schedule is kind of crazy but I was wondering if you wanted to go for dinner sometime?” Aaron asked. “I think I’d like that” you smiled eagerly. “I can call you when I’m not on a case”, he offered. “Okay, I can give you my number” you replied. Aaron reached his free hand down to his pocket and quickly realized Jack was sleeping on the side with his phone.

“Give me your hand, I have a pen and I can write it on your hand like we did in the 90’s before everyone had cell phones” you laughed as he gave you his large hand. You scribbled your number down then let his hand go. “I’ll talk to you later then” he said. “Sounds good” you responded.

After the party had died down you found your sister. “I saw you talking to Mr. Hotchner a lot today” she commented. “His name is Aaron and he asked me on a date, I gave him my number” you confessed. “Damn, sis. Way to go” she encouraged.

A couple weeks went by and Aaron had to cancel your date twice because of his job but you understood, telling him not to worry about it. You were starting to get nervous that he had changed his mind until he showed up at your door one night.

“Aaron what are you doing here?” You asked in confusion. “I decided that we were going to dinner while I was home so I didn’t have to reschedule again and scare you away” he replied. “It takes a little more than a couple rescheduled dates to scare me away” you told him. “I didn’t want to take the chance so we have reservations at eight” Aaron said.

“I’ll have to get ready”, you admitted. “You look beautiful but for where we are going you are a tad underdressed with the sweatpants” he chuckled. “You can come sit on the couch, help yourself to the tv. Give me 20 minutes” you offered. “Okay” he agreed.

You quickly twirled your hair into a cute little up-do that didn’t take too long, did a quick run through of a basic makeup routine, then found a beautiful black dress with some red heels. After looking in the mirror, you decided you were missing one thing. Lipstick. Rummaging through your makeup bag you applied the red lipstick that accented your makeup and your outfit perfectly.

You walked back out into the living and Aaron turned to look at you. “Excuse my French but you look fucking stunning” he complimented. “Thank you. Are you ready?” You asked. “Whenever you are”, he replied. We made our way out of the door as you locked it. Aaron was a couple steps ahead of you. Out of nowhere, you felt courageous, maybe it was the excitement or it could be the lipstick, who knows.

In a wave of confidence you called his name as he turned back to you. “Is everything alright?” He asked. You took a step closer, smashing your lips onto his. He was surprised at first, his body tensed but it quickly released as he melted into the kiss. You pulled away smiling. “What was that for?” He wondered. “I figured we could get it out of the way so it wouldn’t be awkward later” you smirked as you grabbed his hand pulling him towards the sidewalk.

You made it to dinner. It was an over priced restaurant that you had never heard of and you were shocked he was able to get a reservation so last minute but apparently one of his coworkers plays poker with the owner so they pulled some strings. You guys talked about your jobs, your favorite things, and even Jack and Alex.

It turns out Jack is a pretty funny kid. “So Jack asked me the morning after Alex’s party if I thought you were pretty” Aaron admits. “Oh yeah? And what was your response?” You teased. “I told him that I thought you were very pretty and then he asked if I was going to take you on a date and I told him that I planned to” He admitted. “What did he say about that?” You replied.

“He told me that if we got married that it would be really cool because him and Alex would be related. I told him not to get ahead of himself and we needed to see how dinner went before we started sending out any invitations” Aaron chuckled. “Kids are so funny aren’t they?” You laughed. “Yes, they are” he replied, smiling. “Well you can report back to Jack that the date went very well and if his dad is interested that I would love to go on another one when he’s not on a case” you confessed.

“I’ll be sure to let Jack and his dad know that”, Aaron smiled. “Sounds great” you agreed. Aaron insisted that he pay for the meal and then he drove you home. He walked you to the door as you both stood underneath the porch light. “You know I think the last time we were standing on this porch something exciting happened” you teased. Luckily, Aaron took the hint. “Yeah, if I remember correctly it went something like this” he said as he leaned down to connect your lips again.

His lips were soft and slow. His right hand was pressed up against your cheek as your lips melted together. Aaron pulled away first, “I hope you had fun tonight” he murmured. “I did, thank you. It was spontaneous and fun but simple” you told him. “Sounds tough to beat” he chuckled. “I’m sure you can manage”, you reassured.

“I’ll ask Jack what he thinks. We may end up going to a park and eating chicken nuggets” he joked. “Sounds like a good time to me” you laughed. “Goodnight, Y/N” he said. “Goodnight, Aaron” I said as I walked inside of my house and shut the door.

Tonight was a lot of fun and you had more in common than you expected. You looked forward to your next date whenever it may be. And as much fun as a park and chicken nuggets sound, you were sure Aaron would come up with something a little less kid friendly.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #david rossi #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #aaron hotch fanfiction #hotch #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x reader

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Together 3: Her name.

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CW: torture, captivity, wounds, broken bones, cauterization mention, strangulation, choking, implied conditioning, implied dehumanization, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, whumpee as caretaker, burns, unconscious, blacking out

It’s been hotter than usual for the past few days, even in our damp basement room. The other room is even worse, with dry, unyielding heat, as oppressive as the hands that strangled me until I saw stars over and over a few hours ago. We’ve spent the whole day lying around, rewetting rags from the first aid supplies at the cool tap. It’s been running with less pressure now which is the only reason we’re not just sitting with our feet under it all the time. Neither of us was out of the room for very long today, like all of our captors just want to go off to some pool or find somewhere air-conditioned to drink a cold beer. 

“I’d kill for an Icee right now,” I say, rolling onto my side to see if she knows what I’m talking about. 

She only turns her head, to show me her furrowed brow. I wonder if that means she’s been in this hole long enough she’s never had one or if she’s just from someplace where they have a different name. 

I explain, “It's like a slushy, you know grated ice and syrup. My favorite used to be these white cherry-flavored ones, but they were rare, so every time I saw it in a machine, I’d get the biggest size. It was so good. It would kind of burn in your mouth from whatever was in there, not quite sour but not too sweet either.” 

She raises one eyebrow and grimaces. 

“No, really they were good. I swear, Babe. I’ll—” I stop myself before I offer to buy her one sometime like we’re just new coworkers chatting by the water cooler instead of two people who might never see the light of day again. 

My almost-slip-up wasn’t missed and she rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling again. 

I suck at this. 

She’s always falling all over herself trying to help me, give me extra food, and protect me in whatever way she can. It’s not like I can return the favor even when she comes back leaning into the wall for support or looking so dazed I want to rock her in my arms. Even then, she does her best to help me before finally collapsing on her bed or sometimes mine when she knows I can walk to the other. The least I can do is try to distract her but I don’t know the first thing about her. 

One time, I asked if she knew any sign language or had ever played charades. I thought she was going to pass out because she’d frozen and held her breath so long. When she finally let out a breath and opened her eyes, she was blinking past tears. She’d shaken her head once, gaze vacant and dark, jaw still tight. Clearly, she’s not allowed to do anything more than be expressive with her face. Even her nodding has practiced restraint. She never does it more than once. It makes my stomach twist to think of what kind of sicko would reduce another human being to that. My torture makes sense but not hers and I still don’t know what goes on beneath the surface. It makes me wonder if it’s personal. Maybe he has some kind of vendetta. 

We could play twenty questions but I get the sense that might also be crossing the line. I don’t want to risk it. It’s uncomfortable enough without sending her into a panic or whatever it is that happens every time she gets cornered by her conditioning. She’s also still stuck wearing the long-sleeved turtleneck and leggings, while I’m shirtless in ratty shorts, so she must be stifling. They’re clean and soft at least, and I know she gets to shower every day if that’s any kind of comfort. I have no idea, it could be painful in itself for all I know. This is just making me depressed. Her situation is so much worse than mine. I’m sure she’ll be here long after someone messes up and pushes me into a grave sooner than planned. Even if they don’t, I know I have an expiration date, but I get the sense she’s a permanent fixture here. 

I push myself up, catching the lukewarm rag before it falls into my lap. I still have bandages on the cauterized stab wounds but the rest have scabbed over fine. Some of them might not even scar that badly, not that I care. Half my fingers are still taped, which is a pain, but it’s not like I have anything to do anyway. I walk over to stand beside her and hold my hand out for her rag, keeping away until she holds it up so I can grab the opposite hanging end, a good six inches from her fingers. I have enough useable fingers to twist the tap on but I have to wring the fresh water out of the rags between the heels of my hands so they aren’t dripping. I shut off the water and turn around. 

She’s propped herself up on her elbows and quickly looks up at the ceiling, eyes overflowing. I forgot that the burn scar on my back from a while ago sometimes does that to her, even though it’s long-scabbed over by now. I was pretty out of it for a few days after but every time I woke up she was doing that haunting, silent sobbing, like she was feeling every inch of it, too. I hope to god it’s not because she’s covered in similar burns.

I’ve never actually seen it but I can feel that it runs from the top of my left shoulder blade all the way to my right hip and there’s a curve from the hook at some point. When he did it, he wore some kind of fireproof gloves and pressed it into my skin, to get an uninterrupted line the entire length of the poker even with the curves of my spine and my then-present back muscles making it a less-than-flat surface. I’d passed out after a few minutes of screaming and choking on my own spit and snot. I don’t know how long he kept it there after but it took the longest to heal of everything, at least so far. 

I hold the cool rag out to her by one end, letting her grasp it from the other and give her a small smile. She returns it, meekly, and lies back down, eyes following me as I sit on the edge of my bed and stretch my legs out in front of me. 

“Okay, how about I—”

The light goes off. I didn’t realize it was “night” yet… 

She sucks in a breath and I hear her shift on the other side of the room. 

I jump to my feet, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and blink, trying to adjust to the dark, but I can’t see anything and she’s just shadows wearing all black. I think I see her hovering just beside the door but I can’t be sure and that’s when I notice the red light is also off. 

“Hey—”

Her cool hands grip my wrists and she pulls me down to sit on the floor between the beds. She really is like a cat burglar sneaking around soundlessly. My foot touches her shin so I uncross my legs and put my feet on the ground, pushing myself back until I’m against the metal bed frame. It’s only a few degrees colder than my body in this heat but it still feels nice. I can’t be sure in the dark, but it feels like she’s followed me and closed the distance I just tried to make although, we’re still only touching where she holds onto my wrists. She drops one now and keeps my right hand in both of hers, cradling it palm side up in one hand while the other still grips my wrist. 

“What—”

She lifts my hand with a little tremble to her grasp, brings it up so my middle finger brushes against her chin as she shakes her head. She lowers my hand, still cupped in hers, and presses her finger against my lips for a moment then she taps my ear. 

I nod while she can still feel it. I guess that even if they can’t see us, they can hear us. I trust she knows better than I do since clearly, that would be a keystone to whatever process resulted in this being the closest to a two-sided conversation we’ve ever had. 

She takes a deep breath and brings her shaking finger to my palm. At first, I don’t understand and think maybe she just wants to be near. Then I realize she’s spelling something. I gently shake my hand under her fingertip, like erasing an etch-a-sketch, so she’ll start again. She inhales again, which makes me think she understood. 

The first is E, I think. The next two are the same, following the assumption that the first was oriented to my perspective. One more and it’s unmistakable. I catch her paused, hovering finger in mine, gently, so she can pull away, but she doesn’t. 

E-M-M-A. 

It’s her name. She told me her name. 

I almost speak it out loud before realizing what it would mean if they heard. She effectively broke her silence by doing this and I don’t even know what she is risking or why she decided it was worth it.

I slowly take her whole hand in both of mine, tenderly, like holding a bird. Her breathing hitches up a notch and I can tell she’s already been working to keep it quiet. I bring her hand to my lips. This feels like a long shot and like it might be confusing or dumb, but I have to try. I know she’s likely not a lip reader but maybe for someone locked in silence, it will mean something. 

Emma, I mouth, Emma, Emma, Emma. 

Her hand is trembling by the time she slips it out of mine. She’s intermittently, unsteadily holding her breath.  

By now, I can see her silhouette in the dark and she is as close as possible without touching me. She—Emma—is sitting, curled up tight with her chin on her knees, arms wrapped around her legs in between my legs. My knees must be level with her shoulders and I can smell the scent of soap on her. I reach out slowly and her eyes flash to the side as they register my hand but she doesn’t move. I softly touch the pad of my thumb to her cheekbone, just under the outside of her right eye, and find it damp. I don’t dare lay the rest of my hand on her face but I can feel the air warming between our skin, growing heavy, until it develops its own polarity.

I don’t know how long we stay like that before footsteps in the hall separate us. She takes my hand in both of hers and squeezes my palm before going to stand by the door where a lackey appears with a flashlight and she goes quietly. They don’t come back for me and I eventually fall asleep. When I wake up, the red light is back but Emma is not. 

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#whump #whumpees #multiple whumpees #caregiver #hurt/comfort #strangulation tw #choking cw #dehumanization tw #captivity tw #torture cw #angst #scars tw #burns tw #i cant stop writing these two

[moldisgoodforyou]

barcelona (ii)

wordcount: 2.3k

_______

Sophie introduced him to the whole group, then separately to her roommates all sitting together at the top of the table. “This is Isobel,” she nodded, “this is Andrea,” she waved, “and this is Juliet,” she smiled. 

Rafe nodded, smiling at the three of them. “Isabelle -” 

“Isobel.” She corrected. “Ee-so-belle.” 

“Ee-so-belle.” He repeated slowly, trying with the accent. “Sorry, I’ll remember that. And you’re Andrea, and you’re Juliet.” 

“Rafe, do you always show up late to places?” Isobel asked him with a stern look, nudging Sophie under the table. She tried her best to hold back a grin as he shook his head quickly, the tips of his ears turning red. “No, um, sorry, we got held up by the - the subway -” 

“The metro.” Sophie corrected calmly. 

“Yes! The metro. Sorry, uh, jetlag.” Rafe tried, looking nervous. 

“Uh huh.” She nodded, trying to seem unconvinced, and Andrea snorted into her mimosa, making all of them laugh. “Andrea!” 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep it up!” 

Rafe glanced between the four girls, confused. “Keep what up?”

Sophie grinned, squeezing his leg under the table. “I told them they could grill you a little. Andrea just has no poker face.” 

“We’ve heard so much about you, I feel like we already know each other.” Juliet told him with a welcoming smile. 

The girls all nodded in agreement and Sophie beamed at their approval, letting them go on with stories about their antics as roommates, like when Juliet had set off the fire alarm while smoking - three times - and when Andrea brought a boy over and he turned out to be a total bust, so they girls had to make up an excuse to rescue her from the awkward situation. As Isobel reached across the table for the salt, Rafe noticed a small carnation tattooed just below the inside of her elbow, still a little red. “I like that, is it new?” 

“It is!” She nodded down the table. “Mateo just did some of them for us last week. Oh my god, Sophie, do you remember like a month ago -” 

Sophie shook her head quickly, sending her a pointed glare. “I don’t remember. Anything. Ever.” 

Andrea hid a giggle behind her napkin at the way Sophie’s cheeks went red, and Juliet smirked. “The initials R.C. don’t ring a bell?” 

“Stoooop.” She whined and Rafe caught on quickly, grinning. “Was that when she tried to get the tattoo on her hip?” 

“Yes!” Andrea exclaimed, laughing. “Oh my god, it was like five inches tall and looked like it’d been written by a primary schooler.” 

“You were determined.” Isobel grinned, poking Sophie in the side and put on a poorly done American accent to mimic her. “Nooo, guys, I hafta get it!” 

Juliet joined in, her American accent even worse. “I’ve only had four drinks, I’m fine! Like, sober!” 

“That was with Sebastian’s heavy pour, too.” Andrea added, laughing. “I think we got to know a little too much about you that night.” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” Sophie was bright red now and nudged her elbow into Rafe’s side when he went to ask another question. “I FaceTimed him that night, he saw how bad it was.” 

“I’m so glad you didn’t get it.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Besides, she already has the ring, it’s not like she needed that to ward any guys off.” Isobel pointed out nonchalantly and Sophie bit her lip, trying to be subtle as she hid her hand under the table and switched her ring from her ring finger back to her middle, something she’d forgotten to do in her haste to pick him up from the airport. 

Rafe noticed immediately, of course, but chose not to comment. “Maybe a temporary tattoo instead.” He teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. When their waiter came back around to take everyone’s real food order instead of just adding to their sangria, most of the table ordered in Spanish with ease, including Sophie. 

 She looked to him to explain his order but he straightened up a little, clearing his throat. “Uh, hola! Yo comer los huevos con chorizo, por favor.” He gave the waiter a proud smile and Isobel had to hide a snort in her napkin at his horrible pronunciation and grammar - it was as butchered as possible. The waiter furrowed his brow a little and Sophie subtly pointed at his option on the menu. The waiter laughed, clapped Rafe on the shoulder and told him - in a nearly-perfect American accent - “Welcome to Spain, buddy.” 

“Since when do you speak Spanish?” Sophie held back a grin, not wanting to burst Rafe’s bubble. 

He beamed, taking it as a compliment. “I did a little studying over the summer.” 

“It wasn’t horrible!” Juliet chimed in with an encouraging smile, not noticing Rafe’s face drop. Sophie winced and kissed his cheek. “It’s alright, we’ll practice. The idea’s there.” 

He kept his voice down, turning to her with a curious look. “You mean it? It wasn’t bad?” 

“No! Not really. I mean, some things could use some work, but you have like, the basic foundation -” 

“Sophie. No lying.” 

“I’ve never lied to you.” 

“Oh, bullshit - you’ve lied so many times -” 

“Pre-relationship does not count!” She exclaimed, grinning as she swatted him with her napkin. “We agreed. No bringing that up.” 

He grinned back, poking her side. “What, are you trying to hide our sordid past from your roommates?” 

She fixed him with a cross look, shaking her head. “Sordid hardly describes it. Just a few arguments here and there, that was all.” 

“Ah, you seem to have a selective memory.” He smirked and squeezed her knee under the table. “You hated me.” 

She frowned. “I never hated you. Just, maybe, didn’t like you sometimes.” 

“Understatement of the century.” He trailed his hand up her thigh and she pushed his hand away, giving him a warning look. “Rafe Cameron.” 

He just gave her a smile and moved his hand back to her knee until their food arrived. 

_____

Three packed days later of showing Rafe around, Sophie had to say a tearful goodbye to her roommates. It was hard for her to leave her newfound friends she’d grown so close to, but they promised they’d see her again - they’d all applied early for graduate programs scattered throughout the US, some starting as early as January. 

Somehow, after a lot of persuading over the summer, Sophie had convinced Rafe to rent a car and drive to Nice in France. It was a little over six hours of a drive and along the coastline, and he couldn’t say no to her after she’d sent multiple photos of the coast and fancy cars they could rent too. After loading everything into the car and carefully adjusting the short driver’s seat, Rafe grinned over at her. “Ready to go?” 

“Yes, but I have something for you.” She reached into the backseat and pulled a wrapped box out of her tote bag, practically buzzing with excitement. “I know your birthday won’t be until we’re in Rome, but I think you’d like this now. The rest of your gift is back in Ohio though.” 

He took the box, fixing her with a playfully stern look. “I thought I told you no presents? Just being here with you is enough.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t listen. Open it.”

He opened it curiously, then grinned when he saw the camcorder printed on the box. He’d mentioned earlier in the summer how he’d like to have something that wasn’t just his phone to document senior year, and then to be able to edit the footage together into little montages each month. Of course, she’d listened and found the perfect gift. “You remembered!” 

“It’s the right kind, I think, but double check for me?” She asked, urging him to open the box. “I did a lot of research making sure it was the right one.” 

He took the camera out and inspected it, nodding. “It’s perfect. I love it, Sophie, thank you.” He turned to her and smacked a kiss to her cheek, grinning when she turned her head and caught his lips with hers. 

“You’re welcome. I was going to wait, but figured you could take videos of our trip and everything.” She beamed. 

Rafe’s grin morphed into a smirk as he flipped the camera on, pointing it toward her. “Is the rest of the present that we’re making a sex tape?” 

She immediately rolled her eyes, huffing as she reached for the camera. “Okay. You just ruined the moment, good job.” 

He laughed, pushing her hand away and put it back in the box. “Thank you, for real. It’s awesome.” 

She took the box and put it back in the backseat, smiling. “Welcome. Happy early birthday, old man.” 

Rafe started up the car and flicked on the radio, handing Sophie his phone loaded up with their directions. “Twenty-two is hardly old.” 

“Ancient.” She laughed. “Alright, this says we’ll get there by two, so just in time to check in to the hostel and we can stop to eat halfway. Feel okay about driving? Because I can trade with you -”

“Absolutely not. And, uh, about the hostel.” He kept his eyes on the road as he drove. 

“I thought I sent you all the information, you said you’d book it -”

“No, no, not that, I have everything covered. Just.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel. 

“Just?” She cocked her head curiously.

“I may have gone a different route for accommodation in Nice.” 

“Rafe. I said I’d pay for my things.” 

He didn’t need to glance over at her to feel her slow-building annoyance, but did anyways. “I know! I know. I was just thinking, we’re going to the beach and we’ll be all sandy and whatever afterward, it might be nice to have a real hotel and our own bathroom. Just for there, I booked the hostels for Italy.” 

“Just for there.” She repeated, skeptical.

He nodded to confirm. “We’ve just  been so busy with everyone - which I totally understand - but I thought it’d be nice to have it be just us for a few days.” 

She considered it for a moment - he did make a great point. “I can transfer money from my savings to cover my half.” 

“No.” 

“Rafe.” 

“I’m serious, Sophie, no. The hostels, fine, but not for Nice.” He declared. He’d chosen a boutique hotel instead of a big expensive chain hotel in hopes that would hide how much he spent, so she didn’t question it.

She frowned, crossing her arms. “I really don’t want to fight over this, baby, but I told you -” 

“So don’t fight. I’ve got it.” He reached over and rested his hand on her knee and squeezed it reassuringly. “Ward gave me extra money.” 

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Ward gave you extra money to spend on your trip with me? I’m supposed to believe that? I don’t think he even knows my name still.” 

“Well.” He paused, nodding. “Not exactly for the trip, he just put double in my account for my birthday month. I think he feels a little guilty, last year he forgot.” Rafe tried to force a laugh, but it came out more pained than he wanted. 

She frowned and reached over to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “He forgot your birthday? Seriously?” 

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, happens. Anyways, um. I’m not letting you pay for it.” 

She could tell he was growing uncomfortable talking more about Ward and nodded. “Okay. Fine, but just this once.” She gave him a small smirk. “You think the walls are thin?” 

“I think the building is structurally sound, baby.” He gave her a confused glance. 

She laughed, shaking her head. “That is so not what I meant.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Think harder.” 

He furrowed his brow for a moment, then shook his head. “I give up.” 

“We only had sex once since we’ve been back together.” 

“What does that have to do with thin walls - ohhhh. Right. You know, sometimes I forget how dirty you are, I appreciate the reminder.” He grinned and she tugged on the ends of his hair, rolling her eyes. “Fuck off, you are too.” 

“Think we could pull over when we make it to France and have a quickie on the side of the road?” 

She raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “Do you speak enough French to get us out of trouble if we get caught and arrested?” 

“Minor details.” Rafe laughed, nudging his head back into her hand a little so she’d start playing with his hair again. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” She responded, scratching his head lightly. 

“I love you. So damn much.” 

Sophie beamed and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Love you too, fool. I’m glad you’re here.” 

He grinned widely. “Yeah? Me too. I really hated being away from you.” 

She frowned, just a little. “At least you had your internship to distract you though, right?” 

“I was too damn nervous about Brooklyn doing something to fuck us up half the time.” He confessed. “I’m really sorry she kissed me, I should have known -”

“Quit.” She cut him off firmly. “I don’t want to hear a single thing about her on this trip, and I especially don’t want to hear apologies for that. Not your fault.” 

He bit this inside of his cheek, sparing a glance over at her. “You mean it?” 

“Of course I mean it. I’m glad you’re willing to tell me, but it’s over with. Quit stressing.” 

“I wasn’t stressing -”

“You’re too easy to read, baby.” She flicked the back of his neck and he yelped, laughing. “I am not.” 

“You absolutely are, you wear your heart on your sleeve and I love you for that.” Sophie grinned. “No more talking about her.” 

“Jealous.” He quipped, smiling over at her. 

“Damn straight.” 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine

[winterscaptain]

waldosia.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: this is intended to be part of the ajf universe (berry hill section), but also stands alone! berry hill is probably good to read before this one, just for a little context. this takes place a couple of weeks after berry hill, during the last few minutes of lauren, and continues through the end of season six. there will be two more parts of this section!

summary: the team reels from emily’s loss and finds footing as best they can in the new normal, until, of course, the rug is pulled out from under them again.

words: ~3k warnings: canon death, language, more slow burning

berry hill (part 1) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

There’s nothing worse than the silence of the waiting room. JJ paces back and forth, waiting and watching for movement down the hall. Hotch has been restless as well, sitting and standing and wandering in equal measure. Seaver perches on her chair, her bare toes digging into the rough fabric of the seat. She’s quiet, staring into nothing. 

Dave sits beside her, his elbows on his knees, his hands laced together. His lips never stop moving, and you’re sure he’s praying. It’s odd to see him there without Emily. Much like Derek and Penelope, they usually stick together in tragedy or stress. It’s more than strange to see him without her - almost like missing a limb you didn’t know he had.

 You find your eyes tracking Aaron more often than not. There’s tension in his forehead, and his mouth is tight. Your first instinct is, of course, to soothe his hurt, but there’s so much of your own. He meets your eyes, and you pat the seat next to you. 

With a heavy sigh, he sits down beside you. 

Your voice is quiet, as to not disturb the stillness of the room. “When’s the last time you ate?”

He shakes his head. You reach out and slip your hand into his elbow. He covers it with his own and you lean against each other. Derek and Penelope are in a similar position across from you. She’s tucked under his arm, her hand rubbing back and forth over his chest, still spattered with Emily’s blood. 

You can’t imagine what he’s feeling. If it had been Aaron…

The thought is too unbearable to consider. Aaron’s arm flexes around your hand, and you realized the thought brought your shoulders to your ears. 

“Are you alright?” His voice is the barest whisper.

You nod. “Just thinking of Derek.”

He takes a deep breath. You know he understands. 

‘“I was just...if it had been -”

“Don’t.” His whisper breaks over the word, and his fingers slip between yours around his arm. Your breath catches in the smallest of sobs, and you turn your head into him. 

Hours and hours and hours pass. You think you fall asleep once or twice, but it’s fitful and not at all restful. Hotch is back to pacing - traveling a path from the door to the back room and back to you. 

Eventually, he sits again, leaning against you once more. You can feel the exhaustion radiating from him. At a certain point, you take him under your arm. He leans his head into your shoulder and closes his eyes. You’re certain he doesn’t get any sleep, but you appreciate the effort. It’s all for you. 

JJ returns, and you all straighten, waiting for her to say something. She can’t speak. 

Penelope says something, but you can’t hear her. You can’t hear JJ, though you know her mouth is moving. You sag forward, nearly falling out of your chair. Aaron catches you as he stands, his arms locked around you. 

Spencer rushes past JJ, but she stops him. They speak, but you still can’t hear over the rushing in your ears. You find your feet and turn into Aaron, whose hand presses your head to his chest. Your whole body buzzes with something cold and unpleasant, like a shot straight to your nervous system. You’d take a bullet again, rather than feel this. 

Slowly, he guides you to the chair on the other side of Penelope. You cling to her, Aaron’s jacket still around you. She’s sobbing, and you can’t feel a thing. When you look up again, JJ has her arms around Spencer, who looks much like you. Broken. Soggy. Weak.

Tired eyes track Aaron as he rounds the corner to the back hallway. JJ finds him a minute later, and you still can’t hear them. 

You can’t hear anything. 

+++

The funeral is wretched. When the hearse arrives, you help Aaron with his white pallbearer gloves, buttoning them around his wrists and straightening his tie. Your hands linger on his lapel. His shaky breath shudders through him under your hands, and when you look up at him, his eyes are closed. 

One of his hands covers yours and you grasp his fingers. 

It’s too soon. 

We can’t do this again. 

It’s too soon. 

“There’s never enough time,” he says, almost inaudible. 

You squeeze his hand and release him, smoothing out his coat and collar and the hair at his temples before letting him pass. Derek and Spencer take the first pair of handles, Dave and Anderson the second. Will and Hotch share a look before taking the final pair. 

You offer your arm to JJ, who takes it, and you follow the men across the cemetery. Penelope and Ashley trail behind you, also arm-in-arm. 

Ashley’s been a gift - quiet and warm and observant - through this whole ordeal. You’ve done your best to welcome her into the fold. She doesn’t need to feel like a replacement or a burden. She’s a member of your team. Maybe not a member of your family, but your teammate nevertheless. 

The whole affair is far too quiet, far too solemn, to really be a celebration of Emily’s life. Hotch returns to your side once she’s laid over her grave. He gives you a rose and an arm. You take both, the wool of his coat soft against your fingers. Both he and JJ decided to leave the boys at home, but wouldn’t tell you why. 

Privately, you figure it’s too much for Jack, and it would be best to keep him and Henry together. Two funerals in as many years is too much for anyone, let alone someone just six. Jess is with the boys at JJ’s house. There’s nothing that woman can’t do, and you love her for it. 

Looking around, you realize everyone in attendance is a familiar face. Emily’s mother is the only one you don’t know well, but you’d know a Prentiss anywhere. She dabs at her face with a handkerchief, and a well of spite rises within you. There’s no reason for her to be here.

You’re her family. You will survive her. 

+++

Derek is in shambles. You spend as much time with him as you can, but he’s more withdrawn than you’ve ever seen him. JJ and Spencer have clung together, as have you and Aaron. Dave and Derek aren’t as close, and they’re both wildly independent, so they’ve sort of drifted in Emily’s absence. 

It’s your mission to keep them in one piece - sharing meals and filling empty evenings with movies and poker and company. You find yourself at Dave’s often, with Jack in your lap and Hotch and Derek on either side of you. 

You have rapidly become the team’s backbone - a role you take on with energy and a certain degree of joy. Taking care of them helps you forget your own grief, and never leaves you without company. 

+++

Seaver’s graduation is a spot of joy in an otherwise dreary few months. You shout and whistle at all the appropriate times, remembering all too well what it felt like on the other side. There’s a moment where you share a smile with Hotch, and it almost feels normal. 

“Remember that?” You ask, tipping your chin toward Seaver. She’s beaming, holding her new credentials in her hand as she greets her family. 

He nods. “Do you?”

You snort. “Oh, please. How could I forget?” The day lives rent-free in your mind. Hotch passing you your credentials, badge, and ID tag is a memory that will stay with you forever. 

“Glad I made an impression.” His smirk is well-concealed, but you elbow him in the ribs for good measure. 

“Shut up.” 

He quirks a brow at you, and you grin. 

Almost normal. Almost. 

+++

Your phone wakes you, and you pick it up right away, recognizing your ringtone for Hotch. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.” 

You flip your bedside lamp on and rub your eyes. You’d be lying if you said you were getting any sleep yourself, and you’re almost relieved you have some kind of company. “Hey, Aaron. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to wake you -”

“You didn’t.”

He pauses. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I could hazard a guess it’s the same reason as you.” You play with the comforter, the fabric a necessary distraction. “Is Jack still with Jessica?”

“Yeah, for the rest of the week. He’s got a school trip thing, and I didn’t want to leave him if a case came up. They’ll be back from the mountains on Sunday afternoon.” 

Your lower lip disappears between your teeth. “Do you want any company? Sometimes it’s -”

“Please.” He cuts you off, and you snap your mouth shut, already throwing the covers back. 

“I’ll be there soon.” 

The drive is quiet, the Virginia highways barren at nearly two in the morning. You pull into the garage in your usual guest spot and climb the stairs. 

Though you have a key, you knock twice before using it. 

Always good form to warn an armed federal agent when you’re about to enter his home in the goddamn middle of the night. 

He invited you. 

Yeah, still. Would hate to get shot on a night off.

The kitchen light is on when you enter, and you lock the door behind you before checking it out. You leave your shoes at the door and drop your keys in the dish. 

He's standing at the counter, fixing two cups of tea. Wordlessly, he passes one to you. 

You follow him to the bedroom, turning lights off as you go. He slips under the covers, and pats the covers. 

“Thanks for the tea,” you say, settling in beside him. 

It’s become sort of routine. Since Berry Hill, sharing a bed has become far less taboo and far more common. Even when Jack’s home, you’ve set up the couch for yourself before spending the night next to Aaron. That way, you can wake up early and settle in the living room before he wakes up, or make it look like you slept on the couch even if he wakes to find you in his father’s room. 

The element of surprise is always a gift - Jack is more than thrilled to find you whenever you spend the night. He doesn’t know to ask questions, and really you aren’t sure what you’d say even if he did. 

Aaron would probably have the words. He’s good at that kind of stuff. 

You sit together in silence, sipping out of your mugs and enjoying the quiet darkness. When you’re done, you leave it on the coaster on your bedside - well, on the bedside table. 

“Can’t sleep?” You ask. 

Aaron’s been finished for a while, his empty mug on his table. He’s already settled in, laying on his side toward you with his hand tucked under his cheek. “Not tonight.” 

“Is it Emily?” 

He nods. “Yeah, something like that.” There’s more, but he’s never been too good at articulating his feelings. You’ve learned it’s best to just keep him company and not push too hard. 

You slide down, bringing the covers up to your chin. “Come here.” 

He smiles in the dark and wraps you in his arms. It’s already easier to close your eyes, and you know you won’t be half as scared to confront what you find behind them. His breath fans across the top of your head, much more steady than when you arrived. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. Sleep tight, Aaron.” 

He tucks his face into your hair, and after a few moments, you hear his breath slow and even out. You lean back, finding his face completely relaxed. 

That’s better. 

With him asleep, you’re able to tune out your thoughts in favor of his heartbeat against your cheek. 

+++

Jack is long asleep when it’s your turn to need company. You’re on the couch, wrapped in Aaron’s arms, sobbing into his chest. Earlier, you found a bank of recorded shows in your cable box that you were waiting to watch with Emily. The realization that you’d never be able to watch them with her knocked you out at the knees, and there was nothing you could do but sit on the floor and cry. 

When you caught your breath, you called Aaron and took a cab over to the apartment. Your tears didn’t let up for a single moment on the way there, and started anew when you saw him. 

You couldn’t speak, but he just led you to the couch and let you curl up against him. With his cheek against your hair, he rubs your back until you can finally breath without hiccuping. 

“What was it?”

“The shows.” You sniff, and wipe your nose on your sleeve. “I was saving shows to watch with her. They didn’t stop recording. I didn’t think to -” A fresh wave starts, and you tuck your head back into his shoulder. You do your best not to wail, keeping quiet for Jack’s sake, “I didn’t think to stop recording them. I don’t even really like them, but we always watched together.” 

His next words are familiar to you. “It’s all about the routine.” 

Those are the same words you used after Haley died. One of his first breakdowns after her death came when he was packing Jack’s bag for the week, getting ready to drop him off at her place. When he realized there was nowhere to go, nowhere to take him, it knocked the life out of him just like your shows did tonight. 

“Once you find something to fill the space,” you’d told him, “things get a lot easier to manage.” 

And it was true. That was the first weekend he called you to come spend the day with Jack, and your time together patched some of the holes. 

He squeezes you to him. “Do you want to find something to watch together? We can start a new show or maybe movie nights with Jack? Maybe with Will, JJ, and Henry? What do you think?”

You give him a watery smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

+++

Andy Swan is a trip and a half, and you find yourself liking her a little more than you thought you would. She and Aaron have a great deal of history, and you enjoy the way they give each other a hard time - pushing and pulling for control of a stressful investigation. They’re different, but highly complementary in their leadership. 

It almost reminds you of your relationship with Derek - mutual respect in droves, but a supreme lack of patience, and a little more good humor than is actually necessary. 

It’s only when the case is over that shit hits the fan. 

You’re all in the conference room following the successful completion of the case. Doyle, of course, has been on your minds since Emily’s death, and you spend at least fifteen hours a week maintaining the not-so-sanctioned investigation into his whereabouts. 

But this wasn’t about Doyle. 

“I’ve been assigned to a joint task force in Pakistan for an indefinite amount of time.” 

The news knocks the breath out of you, and your eyes flicker around the table. Everyone is just as shocked as you are, though you’d like to imagine the short-circuit you’re experiencing is all your own. 

“What do you mean?” The question leaves your lips before you can stop it, and Hotch’s brown eyes meet yours. There’s an apology in them. 

“Tomorrow, I leave for Pakistan. I’m not sure how long I will be gone. Derek will take over as Acting Unit Chief in the meantime.” 

Derek’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “You’re kidding.” 

“You carried off the job very well last year, and I have no doubt you will have the same amount of success in my absence.” 

Derek looks like he wants to speak again, but refrains. 

“I understand this is less than convenient. You’ll all have the declassified brief in your inboxes by the end of the day today with more information about the transition. You’re all dismissed for the day.” With a final nod, he walks out of the conference room, leaving you all slack-jawed and more than a little confused. 

JJ’s eyes meet yours, and you shrug. You ask, “Has he said anything about this to you?”

“I’ve heard approximately nothing about it,” she replies, peering down the hall. 

Goddamn you, Hotchner. 

He’s packing up his briefcase when you pass his office. You don’t stop, sitting down at your desk. You’re surprised frost doesn’t rise from the ground at your feet.

There’s a moment where he stops at your desk on the way out of the bullpen, but you just stare at him. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it. After a moment, he finally says, “Jack is with Jessica tonight.” 

You have no idea what your face looks like, but it’s enough to drop his shoulders and send him on his way, defeated. 

+++

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[dominimoonbeam]

Looking at the Sun Part3

My ongoing Damien/Lasko lightly angsty romance continues!

posted below but also on ao3!

-

Damien looked up from his textbook and frowned at the freelancer sitting across from him. “What?”

“I said,” they repeated with a level of attitude that suggested they thought he hadn’t been listening. Of course, he had, he can multitask, he just didn’t understand why the hell they were inviting him to game night.

“Why would I go to that?”

Freelancer shrugged, tapping their pen against a notebook. “It’s fun. We play games. I mean, Gavin tries to turn everything into some sort of strip poker, but that almost never happens.”

Damien frowned harder, almost sneering. He knew they did game night sometimes. He never went. “It’s a waste of time. You don’t even win anything.”

Freelancer didn’t look up from their own study material, but they had a general smugness about them that he couldn’t place. “Lasko is going to be there,” they added almost absently. Like it didn’t really matter. Like the air elemental hadn’t been dodging them for the last month.

The quiet stretched and Damien stared down at his book even though he wasn’t reading a word of it. He hadn’t seen Lasko since the quad when he ran away. The administration had emailed Damien the next day to say the matter was being dropped, but Damien would be working with another counselor.

He still could have contacted Lasko. He could have shown up to his office when he came back to work. Or emailed him. Or texted him. They’d exchanged numbers that night at the diner but Damien had never had the chance to use it.

“What time?” he asked, not looking up to catch any more smugness on the freelancer.

“Five-thirty on Saturday. My place.”

 -

 Sometimes a kiss was just a kiss—full of affection and comfort but not going anywhere else.

Gavin had not experienced many kisses like that in his life. Even when they started innocent enough, he had a way of building blizzards out of snowflakes. But that had not been the case with Lasko since the incident.

The air elemental had been a bottomless well of sexual energy before but it was like that well had been capped overnight—clamped shut with a lid of anxiety and shame.

Gavin did not push at that lid. They still hung out, just without any of the sex.

After about a week, Gavin kissed him before leaving. No expectations, just curious to see what would happen. What had happened was Lasko blushing, sputtering in surprise, and making Gavin laugh before he took off.

Kisses without more had become a thing. They became stray, not always before making an exit, and not always chaste and quick. But all of them went nowhere and Gavin secretly loved it. Not that he didn’t also love going somewhere. This was just, different.

Now they were making out on the couch, lazy and affectionate. He grinned against Lasko’s lips when he felt the man’s brain turning on to overthink something. This guy could never shut it down for long. But Gavin’s smile at it vanished when Lasko reached down between them to start fumbling with the buttons of Gavin’s jeans.

Gavin caught his wrist, breaking their kiss too.

Lasko blinked at him, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. “Y-You don’t want to?”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” he lied.

Gavin knew he was lying. If there was anything he absolutely knew, it was when someone wanted sex. “Even if you were a good liar—and you really aren’t—I would know. I can feel your sexual energy or the lack of it…”

Lasko winced and looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Gavin caught his thighs before he could try to get up and retreat physically as well as emotionally. Lasko sighed, staring down at a spot on Gavin’s shirt. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. But you shouldn’t do things like that you don’t want to. Not for me or anyone.” He didn’t want to think about someone else not realizing Lasko was just being, what? Polite? Or not caring even if they knew.

“I just… We’ve been hanging out a lot and I don’t…” Lasko rushed words and then stopped and dragged a breath, squirming uncomfortably and still staring at Gavin’s shirt. “I like hanging out with you but I don’t want you to feel like you have to even when I’m not…giving you anything anymore. I don’t want to waste your time or…”

Gavin laughed, the sound bursting out of him and shocking Lasko quiet—finally forcing that gaze up to his. “You’re worried that you’re taking advantage of me? Me?” He laughed more, eyes tearing up. Fuck, this air elemental was funny. Way too sweet, that was for sure.

Lasko thumped him once on the chest and Gavin pretended it hurt when they both knew it hadn’t.

“I-I’m being serious. I…I don’t want to waste your time but I—”

“We’re friends.”

Lasko blinked at him.

Gavin blinked back, going over the words that had just jumped out of his mouth. Well shit. They were friends. He hadn’t realized it before he said it, but he knew it was true. “Of course, as friends we could still fuck in the future but I’d rather you be desperate for my dick than just willing to—”

“Holy shit!” Lasko laughed, shoving at his chest now and sliding off his lap onto the couch next to him, one leg still hooked over one of Gavin’s. They had been watching Alien when they started making out. Now it was getting close to the face hugger scene.

They sat quietly through it and then Gavin finally spoke, no particular tone just, “This movie is stupid.”

Lasko bit back another laugh. So far, Gavin thought every movie was stupid. But he still came over and watched them with Lasko. They really were friends. Lasko looked over at him. “Do you think I’ll be fucked up forever? I mean, I was fucked up before and now—”

“You’re not fucked up. You’re just uncomfortable as shit,” Gavin said in that same straightforward tone, and it eased that knot of anxiety in Lasko’s chest. Gavin smiled, slow and wicked. “We could try to find something to get your engine going again… Like a jump start.”

“I’m not a car.”

“Have you ever fucked an electro?”

“Shut up.”

“We could try that alley outside the 7eleven. You liked that.”

Lasko tried not to laugh. “Shut up.”

“You do know that if this is a power dynamic thing you can fuck me. I mean, you have before and I thought it went great—”

“Seriously!”

 -Saturday-

 Game night was actually going good. Lasko always liked game nights but he hadn’t gone to the last few the freelancer invited him to and he’d fought the urge to last-minute bail on this one too. But now that he was there, at their apartment with a handful of people and talking about movies, he actually felt normal. This was normal. This was good.

He had been inching back to normal recently. But he still avoided his own office, only there for office hours and appointments and then bolting.

With the semester ending and summer around the corner, Huxley was talking Freelancer into a camping trip. Gavin looked pointedly skeptical and Lasko laughed before he could catch himself—next thing he knew Freelancer and Hux were trying to get him into their camping plans too. A group thing, they said.

Someone knocked and Freelancer ducked away to get the door while Huxley promised camping would be fun.

Lasko had just nodded, consenting to joining their camping trip when he heard an all too familiar voice in the entryway of the apartment. His spine straightened painfully and his breath caught. Shit. Damien. He twisted sideways, looking for a way out as though he could just make a run for it—like that wouldn’t be completely weird. Like there even was an exit to use! He’d have to jump out the damn window. God, he was a fucking coward.

He jumped when Gavin’s arm draped over his shoulders, anchoring him in place. The incubus pushed a beer into his hands, giving him something to hang on to. “You’re okay,” he said low when Huxley had turned to say something to Freelancer just as they and Damien walked into the room.

Lasko told himself to look away, to act normal, but instantly met his gaze despite all those thoughts. Damien. He winced and looked away, remembering all those questions he’d had to answer and the way Kody had towered over him saying he’d taken advantage of Damien, done something wrong, and then when he’d tried to blackmail him.

“Breathe,” Gavin reminded.

Lasko did.

Gavin laughed lightly, like they were having a totally normal conversation over here. “Didn’t think I’d ever have to remind an air elemental to breathe…”

 -

 Damien regretted coming to game night the second Lasko winced and looked away. And why the fuck was the incubus draped over him like that?

Freelancer was talking like they didn’t notice the obviously awkward elephant in the room and Huxley was…trying to talk him into going camping? Damien looked up at the tall earth elemental. “What? No. No, I’m not going into the wilderness to look at flowers.”

Huxley did not deflate. Damien liked that about him. He knew sometimes he could be a lot for people and he didn’t usually mean to put them off or scare them or whatever. Hux never seemed to take any of his shit seriously.

They ended up at the big table Damien had never seen Freelancer actually use for meals, playing an overly complicated boardgame. Damien didn’t even mind the stupid game this time because he was sitting across from Lasko, who seemed determined not to meet his gaze again which gave Damien plenty of time to look at him. Lasko looked tired but at least he didn’t have that sheen of tears in his eyes anymore like the last time he saw him in the quad—when he ran away.

Damien hadn’t been able to shake that memory. He had made sure that that bullshit inquiry was settled and put away, but his counselor had been changed to someone else and no one would let him change back to Lasko. He had accepted it after the initial rage against the system moment—because if Lasko wasn’t his counselor then there really was no conflict of interest in whatever they almost had for a second there. And Damien had checked all the rules. DAMN really had so little on the books regarding personal relationships that Damien was sure he could date a professor if he wanted to and no one could tell him otherwise. But he wasn’t interested in a professor. He was interested in Lasko.

But Lasko wouldn’t look at him.

While they played the stupid boardgame, he went over their interactions again, from that night they met at the club and hung out to that day in the quad. Had he done something? Had he misunderstood something? He had been so sure Lasko was interested in him that night at the diner but what if he read it wrong? Fuck. What if all of this avoiding shit was just Lasko trying to let him down and not knowing how to do it?

And then he caught Lasko looking at him.

There was something so guarded and raw in his expression and then alarm when he realized Damien saw him and that gaze was gone, on the table or turned toward Freelancer to ask something stupid about the stupid game.

Even though Damien thought the game was pointless, he still won. He didn’t half-ass anything he did.

When they were putting the game away, Lasko checked his phone and sighed, standing up and looking for his bag. “I gotta go. Sorry. I have to catch the train…” he trailed.

Damien bit back a smirk and got up. “Same.”

Lasko jolted, spine straight and hand clutching at the strap of his bag again.

Damien could practically see that mind running wild. But Lasko would know Damien wasn’t lying. They lived on the same side of town. They’d taken the subway together after that night at the diner, after all.

They said their goodbyes to the group, grabbing their jackets. Damien held the door and waited for Lasko to head out into the hall, following toward the stairs. They didn’t even talk until they were down the steps and coming out on the empty subway platform. Damien’s mind reeled. Was he really not going to say anything? “Did I do something?” he finally asked.

Lasko managed to trip on his own feet at that, like he was trying to walk, stop, and turn to look at Damien all at the same time.

Damien had to catch his arm to steady him, both of them coming to a stop near the mouth of the subway steps. His hand lingered on the air elemental’s arm, a part of him wishing that light denim jacket wasn’t between their skin.

Lasko stared back at him, eyes impossibly big. “What?” he croaked. “No! Of course, you didn’t. I… got you mixed up in that-that mess and as your guidance counselor I should-shouldn’t have—”

“So, you feel bad about that? That’s why you’re not talking to me?” Damien interrupted, trying not to yell. He had suspected this, hadn’t he? Had considered that Lasko had taken all of that bullshit to heart and actually thought he’d crossed some line.

Lasko looked away—looked anywhere but at him. “I—”

“Don’t apologize again,” Damien snapped, instantly pissed with himself for losing his shit already. But he couldn’t handle another apology. It hurt. It felt like being hit—worse, it felt like Lasko being hit.

Lasko settled his gaze on Damien’s shoes and pressed his lips shut, saying nothing.

“I get that some asshole reporting us and having to go through that bullshit with the administration was upsetting but…I mean, you know that we didn’t do anything wrong, right? We had a nice time. I mean, I thought we did…”

“We did,” Lasko said, seeming to surprise himself. He dragged a deep breath and twisted his hand in the strap of his bag again.

“We weren’t breaking any rules, Lasko. I would know. I’m good about knowing all the rules and bylaws.”

Lasko huffed with a little smile, but still wouldn’t look at him. “Yeah. You are. And I know we didn’t.” His almost-smile slid away. “I know. But he made everything sound so…bad.” Lasko winced, clinging to the strap of his bag like a safety line.

He? That was more specific than the overall administration. Damien took a step closer. “Who made it sound bad?”

Lasko seemed to be fighting tears, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. “The student that complained,” he mumbled and then shrugged. “He made it sound like I had been taking advantage of you or manipulating you.” He puffed air. “Like anyone could do that to you.”

Damien still had his hand on Lasko’s upper arm, where he’d grabbed him when he almost fell. “Wait, you mean he talked to you directly?”

Lasko winced and nodded.

This was obviously the root of whatever was messing with the other man. “So, he made what we were doing sound ugly and now, what? You can’t stomach to look at me?”

Lasko’s head shot up, watery gaze staring back at him in horror. “No. I…It’s not that. I…I want to look. I want to look so bad. But I…The shit he said. He was in my space and he wanted me to…I don’t…” His hand came up to press the heel of his palm to his temple, eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to get his words in order.

Damien tried to stay calm, soaking in every word and cataloging it like pieces to a puzzle. He stood there, right in front of Lasko, and waited until he took a deep breath and let it out. And then the fire elemental asked as quietly, clearly, and calmly as he could. “What did he do to you?”

Lasko shook his head instantly, scrubbing hard at tears that hadn’t fallen. “Nothing. I’m just fucked up, Damien. That’s it. He didn’t have to do anything. He just got close and said some nasty shit about blackmailing me for…for favors.” He cringed when he said it despite all the efforts to be clear and as detached as possible.

Damien let go of his elbow, afraid of heating him through the denim of his jacket. Favors? Son of a bitch. “That’s not nothing. That’s scary and cruel and it’s not okay.”

Lasko nodded but his gaze had slid down to Damien’s collar again. “Yeah. But I shouldn’t be this messed up over it, right? I mean. He didn’t do anything really. It’s just in my fucking head. I’m just being—”

“Stop,” Damien pleaded, shaking his head. “There’s nothing wrong with your head, Lasko. You’re just a good person. You feel a lot. It upset you. You were right to be upset.” He wanted to reach out and touch him again, wanted to be someone that knew how to ground him, how to make him feel better. “Did you-Did you tell the admins about it?”

Lasko jarred at that, blinking at Damien and then shuffling on his feet. “Oh. Yeah. I mean, I told them that he came to my office to confront me about it but not…I don’t know. I didn’t want to have to explain it and if I did, I mean, what the fuck would I be explaining? Yeah, he was totally out of line to try to blackmail me like that and he was a creep but I’m the one that used my powers to suck the air out of the damn room and then-then I bolted. I don’t imagine that’s going to look good, you know? Like, I obviously can’t handle myself professionally if I’m attacking and then running away from students…”

Damien held his breath while Lasko rolled out all those words in what had to be one single breath. He didn’t miss any of it. He had never missed anything Lasko said, no matter how quick or jumbled or stuttered. He smiled slowly, his own feelings a pile up mess inside him. He was furious, yes. And a little bit gutted that all of this was going on inside Lasko and he’d had know way of helping him. But right now, on top of everything else, he was impressed and so relieved. “You pulled the air from the room,” he repeated.

Lasko winced and looked up like he was expecting judgement or maybe even a reprimand. But whatever Damien’s smile and expression—it was enough to ease that from Lasko immediately. He exhaled slowly and nodded, shoulders finally relaxing, tears still glassing his eyes. “I-Yeah…”

Damien’s smile grew. “Good. Did he pass out?” He hoped he had but he doubted Lasko would let it go that far, he probably only held it long enough to get out of the room and make a run for it.

Lasko blushed and shook his head. “N-No! Of course not. I didn’t lose control exactly. I was just—”

Damien reached out and took his hand. Lasko’s fingers felt icy but he wasn’t sure if that was just because he always ran so warm himself. He liked the way that one touch made the air elemental suck in a breath and go quiet. He rubbed his thumb along the back of Lasko’s hand, warming it carefully. “I didn’t think you lost control. I would have set his hair on fire.”

Lasko laughed despite trying not to, hand spasming in his hold and then hanging on. “That would definitely have been unprofessional…”

Damien shrugged. They were still holding hands. He remembered what Lasko had said either, amidst everything else—that he wanted to look at Damien. He wanted to look so bad. “I like you,” Damien said. He had said it that night on the sidewalk outside the club too, but somehow it hadn’t sounded as confessional then. It could have meant anything even if he wasn’t trying to be subtle or vague. But maybe he had been? Words were not wasted on Lasko, he realized. There were things he needed to hear, clear and doubtless. “I don’t want to leave any room in your head to misunderstand this, or to think I don’t mean what I do—what I think we both know I do.” The air elemental finally looked up and held his gaze, surprise all over his face and his eyes wide.

Damien made an effort not to laugh, because he absolutely wouldn’t let Lasko imagine this was a joke either. “Your smart and funny and nice. I want to spend more time with you. If you’re not interested in something more than friendship, that’s okay.” Of course, it was okay, but he wasn’t going to make the mistake of leaving anything unclear here. “I would gladly be friends with you. But if you are interested in more, I’d like that.” He smiled a little at the way Lasko’s hand spasmed at certain parts of his sentence, like a clear line to his thoughts. He refused to let himself imagine how that could work in other situations. Not yet. Not unless they were going to try something more. If Lasko only wanted to be friends, then he would do his damnedest to cram all inappropriate thoughts out of his head.

Lasko, for once, seemed to be without words. He blinked. Mouth opening, trembling, closing. Damien might have taken this as a sign of him wanting to decline but not knowing how, but he was still holding tight to Damien’s hand.

“Lasko,” he prompted.

“I like you,” Lasko said in a rush and blushed, looking away.

Damien had to bite the inside of his lip to hold back a smug grin.

Their train arrived as if on queue and they shuffled on. It was nearly packed, definitely no where to sit. The train started moving before they really figured out where to stand. Damien grabbed the rail overhead and Lasko bumped into him, flush against his chest for a second before pushing off and trying to balance on his own with the sway of the train. He was blushing again and this time Damien wondered how far down his collar that blush spread and if he would blush at every contact they made or just the first times. Another bump and Lasko almost tipped over. Damien caught his arm again, holding on. When they neared their stop, he slid his hand from Lasko’s arm down to his hand, grabbing it before heading out, weaving through the crowd with zero chance of losing him.

When they came out of the subway and into the open air they stopped. They were going different ways. Damien had to let go.

“Are you going to that camping thing Huxley’s been pushing?” Lasko asked suddenly.

Damien blinked. Camping? Oh, right, the whole sitting around in the woods doing nothing plan? He almost scoffed and blurted out how he absolutely wasn’t and who would want to when he realized that a lot of people did like camping and Lasko might be one of those people… “Are you?” he asked instead.

Lasko was still holding his hand, still blushing, still looking anywhere but directly at him. “Well, I mean, I don’t know shit about camping but Hux says it’s easy and Freelancer really pushed hard so I said I would go. They said it wouldn’t be hard or anything. It’s basically just hiking and sleeping in a tent, I guess? I’m not exactly the most outdoorsy person but why not? Right?”

“Right,” Damien agreed. Why not? “So, I’ll see you at the camping thing?”

Lasko’s gaze finally landed on his, something warm in them now. Hope? “Yeah. I mean, unless you want to meet up tomorrow. I have to go get a tent and some stuff. I really don’t usually camp so I don’t have anything for it. We could get coffee and then go sleeping bag shopping? I mean, not one sleeping bag. You probably want your own sleeping bag.”

Damien grinned now, not even trying to hold it back. This was exactly how he imagined flirting with Lasko would look. He hadn’t even done any real flirting himself and already the air elemental was rushing through words and getting flustered about insinuating they share a sleeping bag. “Yeah, I run hot, you might want your own,” Damien agreed casually enough, giving Lasko’s hand another squeeze before letting go. “But maybe we could share a tent. Meet me here tomorrow?”

Lasko exhaled hard in relief, nodding, clutching at his bag strap again when he started shuffling in his direction. “Great. Yeah. Okay, bye,” he stumbled through words but smiled before turning to go.

Damien watched him for a bit before fishing his phone from his pocket and groaning. Freelancer was going to be such a smug shit when he told them he wanted to go on the camping trip. He called anyway. No reason to drag it out.

#redacted asmr #damien #lasko #gavin is an angel #not literally but he's amazing #fanfic

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (2)

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: Hello, angels!!! Here is part two... As always, let me know what you think! Part three is almost done and will be out next Sunday at 8pm. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter

“You’re practically jail bait for these men, do you understand?”

“I’m 21, not 18,” Sadie protested. It was 9 p.m. on a Friday night and you were standing outside Josh’s apartment dressed for a night out. You were reading her the riot act, knowing damn well that it was probably going in one ear and out the other.

“21 is young enough,” you argued. She rolled her eyes as you continued. “If you can’t find me while we’re out, look for Josh. Or Seth. Or Boone.”

“YN, everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I really hope so.”

The entire week leading up to Sadie’s arrival was stressful to say the least. You had to childproof your entire life just to have a problem free weekend with her, and that included childproofing the boys too.

Because Josh had met Sadie plenty of times before, he was more than happy to have everyone over his house for pre-drinks. It took a weight off your shoulders because being in an enclosed space with your closest friends meant it would be easier to keep tabs on how much alcohol she was consuming. And the more people she met before hitting the club meant there were more people keeping an eye out for her, and you need all eyes on her. 

Well, almost all of them. You could do without Pierre’s.

Josh’s apartment was already loud when you arrived, which came as no surprise considering about half the Blue Jackets were inside. When you entered, Sadie gazed around at his apartment like a kid in a candy story.

“This is where Josh lives?”

“This is what a cushy job gets you in Columbus.”

“Why didn’t Mom and Dad force us to become athletes?”

You ventured into the living room and were greeted by an assortment of hoots and hollers. Josh swept Sadie up in a big hug before introducing her to the rest of the boys and some girlfriends in a pretty general introduction. Seth slipped a beer into your hand with a knowing smile that screamed, “I got you. Stop stressing.”

Pierre wasn’t there and you were naive enough to think he might’ve passed on a night out, but then the front door swung open and he was sauntering in with a rack of beers in his hand. Sadie’s eyes cut to yours as he made his rounds to say hello.

When he reached her, he came up short. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the all too familiar facial features.

“You’re YN’s sister,” he spoke. “I’m assuming you already hate me.”

“More or less.”

“I’ll have fun trying to prove you wrong tonight then.”

He stepped away from her and said hello to the remaining few before completely ignoring you and slipping into the kitchen to put his beers in the fridge.

---

The executive decision was made to leave Josh’s apartment around 9:30 p.m., so while you ran off to the bathroom to get ready to go, Sadie flitted off to the kitchen for one final drink. Pierre did the same. When he entered, she was standing in front of the liquor, studying each bottle.

She didn’t even spare him a glance, having clocked him through her peripheral vision and deciding not to engage. He opened the fridge and reached in to receive a new bottle.

“You go to Ohio State, right?” he asked after popping the cap off.

She looked uncertain of him when he asked, but responded, “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re in the,” he paused, thinking for a moment about her class placement, “third year?”

“Yep.”

“How do you like it?” he asked, cocking his hip against the counter. He watched as Sadie poured herself another drink. She sipped it for taste, then added a little more Vodka. “I always got a little jealous of my friends who got to go to school.”

“It’s great,” she answered. “But I don’t think you’re missing out. If you make anything close to what Josh does, I should be jealous of you.” He chuckled softly, lifting the mouth of the bottle to his lips for a swig. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you do to my sister?”

He placed the bottle on the counter beside him, fingers swiping along the condensation settling against the label.

“I didn’t make the best first impression and she never gave me the chance to right that wrong,” he answered honestly. “It’s all good, though. I don’t need her to like me.”

Sadie caught the uneasy shift of his eyes from hers to the bottle beside him and decided that he had a shit poker face. 

“She’s a tough cookie sometimes,” she murmured. He nodded in agreement, eyebrows nearly raised to his hairline. 

“She’s determined, I’ll give her that,” he huffed, shaking his head to himself and taking another sip of beer. 

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t like me the first five years I was alive, so don’t worry, maybe you’ll win her over,” Sadie shrugged, giving Pierre a knowing look that he tried to ignore. If he was going to go around spilling secrets to anyone the last person he would choose was your little sister.

“Crazier things have happened, right?”

“Sure,” she said softly. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment like she was trying to decipher what he wasn’t saying. Pierre felt uncomfortable under her gaze, lifting his beer bottle to her and slipping out of the kitchen before she could make him sweat anymore than she already had. 

---

As soon as you walked into the club, you threw an arm over Sadie’s shoulder and led her to the bar. Josh and Pierre followed a few steps behind you as the rest of the group left to grab a table. Sadie’s eyes lit up as she studied every bit of the place you all frequented, overjoyed to finally be a part of your Columbus crew.

Sadie propped herself up onto one of the barstools at the bar and you stood beside her to wave down the bartender at the other end. Behind you, Josh and Pierre waited, deep in conversation about something to do with the team.

The bartender was quick to attend to your needs, dropping your drinks off swiftly before moving on to the next group of patrons.

You were busy surveying the land for potential suitors for the evening, not exactly sure if you wanted to end up in Charlie’s bed again or not. For some reason you were finding it hard to take interest in any of the men mingling around the bar with Pierre’s cologne overwhelming your senses as he stood just a few feet behind you. 

Sadie seemed to have no interest in the men that were hanging around the bar, which made you feel better at first. That is, until you realized she was eyeing up Pierre and then shifting her gaze back to you. She was up to something, that was never a good sign. 

“His name matches his face,” Sadie spoke after glancing at Pierre over your shoulder.

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s fucking hot!” she exclaimed. Her voice carried and while you choked on your drink in front of her, Pierre choked on his own in front of Josh.

“You heard that?” Josh asked him with an amused smile. He nodded slowly, desperately trying to push her words out of his mind. “YN’s blood is probably boiling.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to be castrated by the end of the night.”

“It was nice knowing you, buddy,” Josh teased. 

As you and Sadie stepped away from the bar, Josh grabbed your sister and pulled her into his side. Left in their wake, Pierre fell into step with you. 

“You talk about me to your little sister?”

“Only to tell her how insufferable you are,” you informed him. He grinned, like he always did, like he was one step ahead of you. “Whatever she said to you, don’t believe. She’s a liar.”

“So, she was lying when she said I’m fucking hot?”

You turned to face him, standing tall even though he was basically a foot taller than you. You raised your voice just enough to beat out the music, growling, “If you try anything with my sister, I will literally--” 

“Holy shit, I’m kidding,” he said gruffly, an exasperated sigh attached to the end of the sentence. He shook his head, mumbling as he brushed past you on the way back to the booth. “I don’t want your little sister, YN.”

---

Two hours later, Pierre was wandering the bar in search of someone new to occupy his time. He’d been with a group of co-eds for a bit, one of which he’d slept with once before, but they’d decided to leave for another bar. And though he’d been invited, he decided to stick with his real friends.

It had to be somewhere around midnight when he slipped past the bar and noticed Sadie at the end without any of her appointed babysitters and immediately felt worry bubbling up in his stomach. She was the youngest in the bar and seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and even though you told him to stay away, the creeps eyeing her down from the other side gave him bad vibes.

So, he stepped up beside her and leaned against the bar with a smile. 

“Bonjour!”

“Hey, Sadie,” he greeted her. She hiccuped. “You good?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she slurred. “I’m getting another Tequila shot.”

“Do you need one?” he asked. His tone of voice was teasing, but the concern was clear on his face. When she turned to look at him, he saw how strikingly similar she looked to you. It was probably the glare on her face that did it.

“I want one,” she repeated. “And you’re going to take one with me.”

“Well, okay.”

Pierre had seen this one too many times before. He knew this shot was going to be the end to her night, but it didn’t matter how hard he tried to stop her, it wasn’t going to work. The bartender brought the liquor over and after some convincing on Sadie’s part, he poured a shot for himself as well.

The tequila went down easy for the two men, but the look on Sadie’s face told Pierre that she also knew that shot was going to be her night’s death sentence.

“You look pale.”

“Let’s go sit,” she murmured, grabbing his wrist and pulling him with her towards the booth with the rest of the group. Seth caught Pierre’s frantic eyes as they approached.

“She’s going to be sick,” he whispered as soon as they were standing beside each other. They both looked up at Sadie who’d taken up residence at the end of the table, knuckles white from from clutching the top. “Where’s YN?”

“I have no clue,” Seth answered. “The bathroom maybe.”

Just as Pierre started to look around the bar, hoping to find you in the crowd, Sadie lurched slightly. 

“I need to get her out of here,” he said. “If she throws up here, YN would never want to come back and she loves this place.”

“Do you want me to just take her?”

It was a good question and Pierre stopped to think for a moment about the answer. Seth could take Sadie off his hands and he could go about his night normally, or he could prove to you that he wasn’t the asshole you painted him out to be. For whatever reason, he chose the latter.

“No, I got her,” he said. “Let YN know what’s going on, would you?”

---

You returned to the table not even fifteen minutes later, already pissed off because of how long the bathroom line was. Needless to say, Seth letting you know that Pierre had taken Sadie back to your place was not what you wanted to hear. 

“You let her leave this bar with Pierre?”

His fingers danced nervously along the beer bottle in his hand. The 6’ 4” defenseman was utterly terrified of your wrath, and had you not been so pissed off, you would’ve thrived in the feeling. “I know you hate him, but he was just trying to help out.”

“Help out?” you repeated. “You think Pierre would do something out of the kindness of his own heart for me, Jonesy?” He nodded a bit sheepishly. “You’re delusional.”

With that, you snatched your purse off the table and stormed out of the bar in pursuit of your apartment. The walk was only about ten minutes long and, quite frankly, you didn’t give a shit that you were walking through the city at night in a short little dress. You were a woman on a mission and anyone that crossed your path with the wrong intention was going to get your wrath, and it seemed that everyone knew that because you weren’t bothered once. 

You threw your door open once it was unlocked and the decorations on the wall rattled as the door hit the wall beside it. Pierre, who’d been standing outside the bathroom door, jumped out of his skin at the sound. He righted himself and stood tall as you entered the hallway unsure of what type of reaction he was going to receive from you. 

You hardly looked at him as you barked, “Where is she?”

“Puking.”

He leaned forward and pushed the bathroom door open a bit wider, revealing Sadie with her head on the toilet seat. You huffed as you entered and kicked the door closed in his face before slumping down beside her.

“Sadie, what the fuck?”

“I suck.”

“How much did you have to drink?” you asked, hand rubbing comforting circles on her back. 

“I was trying to keep up with your friends,” she murmured before gagging into the toilet again.

“You know that they’re all well above six feet and weigh like two hundred more pounds than you, right?” you stated. She nodded and groaned pathetically. “You should’ve known better.”

She didn’t offer a response to your chastising and instead sat up to look at you and said, “I thought I wasn’t going to like him.”

You raised your eyebrows at her.

“Pierre?”

“Yeah. He’s actually a really nice guy,” she grumbled, dropping her head back into her hand that was propped up on the toilet. “Held my hair back for me.”

With an eye roll and a grunt, you stood to leave her to fend for herself.

“Wait,” she called as soon as your hand was on the door knob. “Can you tell Pierre that I’m sorry I ruined his night?”

“Sure.”

“Be nice to him.”

“No promises,” you grunted, pulling the door open to kick the hockey player out of your house.

---

Pierre was uncomfortable in your apartment. Before you arrived, he was too worried about Sadie to even think about the fact that he was in the middle of your personal space. But now, as you sat with her in the other room and he stood in the living room lurking, he knew he didn’t belong.

There were books decorating your coffee table and plants hanging from the ceiling above him. The television stand was cluttered with picture frames of your family and friends from home. His eyes caught on a photo strip from a Blue Jackets event. Josh’s arm was slung over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist, both of you clearly hammered and smiling like two idiots who’d been sitting at the open bar all night. 

Although he couldn’t remember much of that night, thanks to the date he was entertaining, he did remember one thing. He remembered the dress you wore. 

It was this dark blue, almost navy dress, and there was a slit up your leg to your thigh that he kept finding himself gazing at. For the first time since he met you, he thought about what it would be like to feel your body against his, to slide his hand up and between your thighs in the middle of a team event just because he could. 

When he got home later that night after dropping his date at home, he jumped beneath a cold stream of water in the shower. He was desperate to clear his mind of every dirty thought that included you. In the end, the only thing that could clear it was release and he ended up jerking off in the shower despite himself.

“I could’ve used a text. I was worried sick.” 

You snuck up on him, leaving him with no time to pretend like he hadn’t been staring at you in each of your photos.

“I would’ve texted you but, in completely unsurprising news, I don’t have your number,” he said defensively. 

It wasn’t like he was expecting you to grovel at his feet for making sure your sister didn’t vomit in the middle of your favorite club, but he would’ve appreciated a little less attitude or a simple ‘thank you’. 

“Her phone was dead, too, and she started throwing up in a bush, so I was a little more concerned about holding her hair back than calling you right away.”

Your mouth snapped shut.

“Anyway, you’re welcome.”

Your mother would kill you if she saw you now. You didn’t even say thank you. 

But, before your mouth could catch up to the thanks at the tip of your tongue, Pierre was pulling the apartment door open and disappearing down the hall. Not even a parting glance was sent your way.

#pierre luc dubois story #pierre luc dubois imagine #pierre luc dubois fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey rpf #mk writes #dancing with our hands tied fic #columbus blue jackets imagine #columbus blue jackets fic #pld fic #pld imagine #hockey story #hockey fic