#even if your option is here you can ramble in the tags / replies anyway

[bb-8]

Tech Savvy

Pairing: Tech x female reader Summary:  You’re an ex-imperial who has a crush on Tech. He’s awkward about it. Until he’s not. Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI) Warnings/tags: crack treated seriously, smut, unprotected PIV, awkward flirting, oral sex, first kisses, accidental exhibitionism, lots of bad jokes, slight angst Word count: 5.4K Notes: It’s smutty crack treated seriously, guys. Read on AO3.

The planet you land on isn’t anything special. It’s a humid swamp world in the Outer Rim that offers enough seclusion for even the Empire’s Most Wanted to pass by unnoticed.

You, being the kind and selfless individual you are, decide to help with repairs while Clone Force 99 are on a supply run. It’s the first time the ship has made planet fall in weeks and everyone is a bit stir-crazy, jumping at the chance to stretch their legs. Prolonged time spent in hyperspace has that effect.

Before he left, you told Hunter that your status as an ex-Imperial put an unnecessary target on their back. You’re still wearing your Imperial uniform, after all, and you know for a fact that the Empire is not exactly merciful to deserters. Especially deserters that committed high treason. Like aiding Clone Force 99’s escape from an Imperial prison.

You definitely didn’t just jump at the chance to stay behind because Tech opted to. That would be ridiculous.

You feel your face heat at the thought.

(What? His goggles are cute.)

The truth is, there’s been something – a tension, as it were – between the two of you since you arrived on board. You know it, he knows it. You’ve been orbiting around each other for some weeks now, and this is the first time you’ve been alone –

“Can you spare a minute?” Tech calls out, pulling you away from your thoughts. You swivel in your chair and shift your attention to him, a bit surprised.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t realise I was on board,” you reply as you make your way to the cockpit where Tech is currently fiddling with some wires.

“You’re...very hard to miss,” Tech replies and your heart skips a beat. “The ship is far too small to miss another sentient being’s presence.”

“Right,” you mutter while taking a seat, trying not to sound too deflated. So maybe he didn’t feel that tension. “What do you need help with?”

“I am taking this opportunity to rewrite the ship’s central comm unit to be more covert when passing through areas with increased Imperial traffic. If I can update the ship’s communication infrastructure to resemble that of a first generation Imperial craft, then we will considerably reduce our chances of being identified. Which is why I am particularly glad you stayed behind today. Considering your, er, history.” He fiddles with a mess of wires in front of him, not once looking up.

“And here I was thinking you wanted me around because you enjoyed my company,” you playfully jab.

“There’s that, too,” Tech replies. “Though it would be advantageous if you could list all of the Imperial access codes you can remember. The computer and I can do some pattern recognition to better–,” he cut himself off and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. “Apologies, you don’t need a long-winded explanation. If you’re happy to share, you can do so whenever you’re ready.”

You consider protesting and telling him that you find his rambling cute, but you decide not to dwell on it for his sake. You list the codes you remember from the Academy. You keep talking, relaying any tangential intel relating to access codes. If it’s irrelevant, Tech doesn’t stop you.

He is silent for a few moments analysing the data you’ve given him. You watch him closely, admiring the way his brow furrows and his lips purse while he’s concentrating.

“You trust me then?” you venture to say. You play with your hands in your lap. “Even though I was with the Empire?”

“You’re helping us now,” Tech replies, as if it’s obvious. He is still inputting data into the datapad he is holding when he continues, “You trust us, it would seem. And we were soldiers programmed upon our creation to destroy the Republic.”

You fumble over your next words.

“That’s – it’s entirely different.”

“And from my perspective, all that matters is where you are now,” he states with finality.

“Well,” you say shyly, “I like where I am.”

Tech smirks despite himself, briefly glancing up at you from his datapad.

You hold his gaze for a moment, before settling into a comfortable silence. You sit in next to him for several minutes, revelling in his closeness like a brezak basking under the Zygerrian sun. It’s only when you notice yourself blushing like a teenager that you decide to make yourself useful and actually help with repairs like you promised.

++++++++++++++++++++

“Would you mind holding this wire out of the way for me while I solder the capacitors for the localised memory bank?” Tech calls, breaking your concentration. The illumination device you were repairing could wait.

You have no idea what Tech means, if his string of words means anything, and you survey his makeshift workbench for a hint. Several panels are detached, limply dangling from a few brightly coloured wires. Tech is focusing his attention on a large panel that is plugged into a cylindrical storage device.

“Maker, that’s a big data stick,” you can’t help but mutter.

Tech makes an incoherent choking sound.

You do as requested and lean over his shoulder to take hold of the wire he specified between your thumb and forefinger. The fabric of your sleeves brushes against his shoulder armour and it feels as though there is a static shift in the air, like the air around you is alive and humming.

And Tech gulps with the contact. He types a few sets of numbers into his datapad with excess force, seriously testing the build quality of the device. His posture is especially rigid as focuses on testing the wires currently in his lap.

Your pulse is racing. It’s as if each second that passes without a confession threatens to rip apart the very fabric of reality.

“Tech?” He has to feel this too, right? “Why...why did you stay behind today?” you ask, careful to keep your voice even. You need him to say it, admit that he feels it, too. You’re desperate for it.

“You can let go now,” he replied, pointedly ignoring your question.

You let go of the wire, but make no move to step away from him. You’re acutely aware of yourself right now and suddenly self-conscious: about the deep shade of crimson enveloping your face, the way you’re breathing, the clamminess you can feel on your palms. You hope you smell alright and silently pray that any traces of caf on your breath are long gone.

Several seconds pass before Tech looks up, over his shoulder at you. His face briefly flickers with concern.

“Your flushed features and increased heart rate indicates that you are nervous,” he remarks.

Maker, is it that obvious, you cringe.

Your mouth is dry and you contemplate making an excuse, but your brain does not want to cooperate.

“Sometimes I –,” you begin. Void, here I go. “Sometimes I get nervous around you,” you admit, attempting to make your confession sound as casual as possible. You bite your bottom lip in a way that you hope will be interpreted as sensual, or, at the very least, cute.

And Tech? Tech is flustered. Like visibly shaken, blushing furiously, two-steps-away-from-hyperventilating, kind of flustered.

“Please do not be nervous,” he responds tightly. Each word is taking considerable effort to be spoken. “I already told you: we trust you. I am not a threat to you.”

The poor guy. There’s no way he can really be misinterpreting that –.

“No, no, it’s a good kind of nervous,” you attempt to clarify.

“Nervousness is not conducive to high quality work,” Tech chokes out.

“No, I mean like giddy. I feel giddy around you.”

Come on, Tech.

“Would you like a chair–.”

“Stars, Tech, I like you!”

Tech...errors. He attempts to start several sentences with no success before mumbling an excuse that he has to go, “fix the reverse polarity capacitive inductor,” which, to your knowledge, is definitely not a real thing.

So maybe that could have gone better. All things considered, he did seem affected by your admission. On the other hand, he also left the room entirely.

Your face burns with embarrassment and, hey, maybe this backwater planet could make a decent home. Maybe the swamp water would be safe for consumption and you could spend the rest of your days foraging for swamp... berries. Sure, it might be a little uncomfortable, but no less uncomfortable than staying here for one more second.

And this is why you don’t admit your feelings to anyone. Ever.

Ugh. You were so confident, too. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to transport to another star system.

The door to the ‘fresher shuts, followed by a slight scuffle of feet, and a thunk that sounds decidedly like a head hitting the door.

You briefly consider leaving the ship to attempt to meet up with the rest of the Bad Batch. It’s been far too long since you’ve breathed fresh, clean, air and you feel a second wave of self-pity wash over you as you contemplate the thought of breathing in the smell of Wrecker’s feet for several more weeks in the Marauder’s circulated air. They hadn’t been gone longer than a standard hour and there was a clear path to get into town. You could still salvage the day, you could still stretch your legs–

‘Oh you want to know why I suddenly decided to join you, Hunter, after promising I’d help fix the ship? Funny story, I was trying to seduce your brother and he rejected me!’

You physically cringe at that. On second thought, maybe just pretending this didn’t happen would be the easier option. Lesser of two evils and all that.

Well, you’ve endured worse situations than this. Swamp berries, if they exist, probably won’t offer enough sustenance anyway, you conclude. You turn your attention to fixing several access panels that require little to no attention.

++++++++++++++++++++

It takes a long while for Tech to exit the ‘fresher. The door opens with a hiss and you stiffen, not looking up until he briskly walks past you and resumes his makeshift work station in the cockpit. Once he is seated and his back is facing you and you can hear the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his datapad, you allow your entire body to relax.

You look back down to your newest project: fixing the swivel action on a chair. You’re not entirely sure if the chair needed to swivel, or whether it was supposed to, but it does now. At least Omega would have fun with that.

“Can you spare another minute?” Tech says after a considerable stretch of silence.

His comment catches you off-guard. It’s fine, it’s fine, you are just going to pretend like nothing happened. You can just carry on helping with actual repairs like you promised.

“I’m coming,” you say, while putting your entire weight into tightening a screw.

Tech coughs slightly.

“The, uh, I need your help with the cum system. The comm system!” he stutters.

Your eyes widen and decide it’s best not to comment, furiously thinking about the fact that Tech rarely makes mistakes. You wipe your hands on your trousers and stride over to the cockpit where Tech is fiddling with some wires on his lap.

“Take these,” he says while coiling a piece of wire to make a conductor. He pushes right through the awkwardness and places a handful of resistors in your outstretched hand.

You stand there in silence for several moments before you drum your fingers on the back of his chair. He makes no move to immediately utilise the resistors, so you resign yourself to stand there and watch him work. (You suppress a sigh – you wish you weren’t attracted to him at this moment, but here you are, drawn in by his confidence and fixated on watching his nimble fingers work their magic.)

Normally, you’d have already lost your patience. But not now, not when you are trying to decipher just what exactly Tech was trying to accomplish by calling you over and ignoring you. And that’s when you realise that Tech either forgot you were there or forgot to give you whichever menial task he originally intended.

But there’s absolutely no chance that Tech makes two mistakes within the same standard year, never mind two mistakes within the same afternoon.

You start to wonder if he even has any use for the resistors. Your knowledge of technology is limited, but you really don’t see how they’d be useful with his current task. Maybe this is Tech’s uncharacteristically inefficient way to try to initiate conversation. You really hope you’re not completely misreading the situation, but it’s not like you have any pride left to lose.

“Why did you stay behind today, Tech?” you ask quietly, voice tinged with apprehension and perhaps an unmistakable eagerness. You phrase it more like a statement than a question this time.

He continues to fidget, his leg bouncing anxiously as he works.

“I did some research,” he blurts. “Regarding intimacy between human males and human females.”

Huh.

“I read the specifics on how to kiss,” he continues, “but I fear that I am a bit out of my depth as to how I am supposed to initiate it.” He is still fussing with the wires in his lap, not quite able to look up at you.

“You...want to kiss?” you surmise, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Me?”

“Very much so.”

A grin breaks across your face and the sharp sting of Tech’s previous rejection immediately melts away. You deposit the handful of resistors in a tray containing various tools Tech had been using throughout the day before taking a tentative step forward from behind the chair. He cranes his neck to look at you, an unfamiliar expression that you’re not quite able to decipher written across his face.

You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, and sliding your hand down to his chin to guide it upwards as you bend down to bring your lips to his. The kiss is chaste, at first, but Tech proves himself a quick study as slightly parts his lips to deepen the kiss. His goggles nudge against your face and you’re pretty sure you’re leaving a greasy cheek print on one of them.

You pull away to gauge his reaction.

“Was that... satisfactory?” he asks, seemingly dazed. His eyes are hooded and still focused on your lips.

“It was perfect.” You offer a small smile.

He removes the goggles to clean one side of them with a nearby cloth. So you were leaving a cheek print. Once his goggles are back in place, he’s looking at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, his golden brown eyes blinking owlishly at you.

“I apologise for leaving you earlier. I did not anticipate you returning my affections – it did not seem probable. And I was, regrettably, not prepared,” he mumbles.

“Probable?” It’s your turn to malfunction. You want to usher a thousand reassurances at once.

“Well, no.” Tech shifts his weight uncomfortably, not quite able to meet your eyes. “Hunter or Crosshair usually are the ones who capture the affections of –,”

“I like your goggles,” you interrupt in a rush before you surge forward to press your lips against his, hoping to convey just how much you return his affections. It’s a messy, urgent kiss that Tech returns with equal fervour. His fingers find their way into your hair, pulling you closer.

When you finally break the kiss, you straighten your back and take both of his hands in yours and take small, hesitant steps backwards, encouraging Tech to stand. As he does, the project he is working on slides off of his lap and clatters to the floor. He pays it no attention as he closes the distance between you, his eyes darkened with lust. He kisses you with renewed purpose as his hands wrap around your waist, roaming across your body, before they settle firmly on your ass.

Your hips grind into his codpiece and Tech lets out a low groan that goes straight to your core. He moves to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and making you squirm. The dampness between your legs becomes apparent and you press yourself closer to him, desperate for friction where you need it the most. As if he can read your mind, he trails a hand from your ass and places it between your legs, grazing over your clit before cupping your cunt. You involuntarily rock into his hand and moan into his mouth, hardly recognising the sounds you’re making.

Tech’s hand abruptly stills as he draws back to meet your eyes. His expression mirrors yours: searching wide eyes filled with longing, a silent acknowledgement passes between you as you reach the point of no return.

And in that moment you are struck with the urge to want nothing more than his cock in your mouth.

“Can I?” you blurt, glancing downward, hoping he is able to intuit exactly what you are suggesting in that moment.

“You may.” You allow the grammatical correction to slip by. “But I’ve never–,” he begins.

You don’t break eye contact and you begin to drop to your knees. He’s looking at you with his eyes wide, mouth slack. Tech’s bulged codpiece is mere inches from your face, and it’s in that moment that you realise that you have no idea how to undress this man.

And this, this is when you start to worry.

Does it have a latch? Does it even come off?

Your eyes dart from left to right looking for some sort of hint as to how it could be removed. You’re half tempted to just plant a smooch on the armour or the kiss inside of his thigh and pretend that all of this was intentional.

“I can get that,” Tech helpfully chimes in, blessedly oblivious to your internal struggle. He removes the pelvic plate with ease and, to your relief, you can see the shape of his erection straining under a layer of thick black fabric. Black fabric that conforms to his body shape exceedingly well. You reach out to feel his length, gently cupping his balls through the fabric before applying more pressure as you palm his shaft. He soft groan escapes his lips.

It catches you a little off guard, actually, to see him so hard. Knowing he’s been hard underneath his armour this entire time. Wondering when else he’s been hard and you had been none the wiser.

His cock has an attractive silhouette – it’s thicker than you expected and you can feel the patch of pre-cum that dampens the black fabric near his tip. You reach for his waistband and pull it down before slowly wrapping a hand around his shaft. He hisses with the contact and brings a white-knuckled fist to his lips.

You peer up at him through your lashes and you lick your lips, preparing to tease him a bit before taking him as deep as you can manage.

And that’s when something inside Tech snaps.

He looks down at you with wild eyes and places his hand on the back of your head to guide your mouth to his cock, apparently unable to continue the role of a passive observer for any longer. Clearly intent at putting his newfound research to good use. You lick a wet stripe from the base to the tip, before taking him in your mouth, the pre-cum tangy on your tongue. His grip tightens on your hair the same time he tilts his hips forward to push his cock further and you hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough to make Tech groan and his knees buckle. He braces himself against the back of the pilot’s chair, captivated at the sight your mouth stretched around his length.

You begin to bob your head in a steady rhythm, taking him as deep as you’re able. You drag your tongue and press it flush on the underside of his cock, looking up at Tech with wide doe eyes, batting your eyelashes prettily as he struggles to maintain composure. You continue your pace until sweat starts to bead at his temple and his breathing becomes less controlled.

Patience isn’t your strong point and you’re too pent up not to touch yourself. You bring your free hand down your trousers, between your thighs, running your fingers through your wet folds and hum at the sensation. Tech’s hips stutter with the vibrations and his face contorts in what looks like a pained grimace. He takes a miniature step back and your lips leave his cock with a pop. He’s breathing heavily now and his weeping cock is painfully hard, his balls tight.

“I don’t want to finish in your mouth, mesh’la,” he pants, voice low.

You nod dumbly, currently unable to form a coherent thought or tear your eyes away from his erect length, only inches away from your face.

Tech takes hold of both of your forearms, helping you get to your feet, before wrapping his hands around your thighs, picking you up with surprising ease. You lock your thighs around his torso as he strides over to press you against one of the auxiliary control panels adjacent to the co-pilot’s chair in the cockpit. The incline on the panel is steep and the pressure of his hips against yours is the only thing keeping you from sliding down.

“Let me taste you,” Tech groans against your ear.

You let out a frustrated whine and desperately move to unclasp your trousers as Tech works to open your shirt. You shudder once the cool air hits your sweat-dampened skin and Tech messily palms your exposed breast while nipping at your neck. He helps you shimmy out of your clothing while holding you in firmly place before discarding them on the floor of he Marauder.

And this is how you find yourself spread eagle on the Marauder's control panel in possibly the most undignified position you’ve ever been in.

He goes to remove his goggles and you stop him.

“If they’re not uncomfortable for you, I’d like for you to leave them on.” He quirks a brow at you, quizzical. “What? I told you that they’re cute.”

His face evolves from sceptical to bashful in a few moments.

“Very well, then. I can leave them on.”

Tech moves his hands under your thighs as he lowers himself, draping your legs across each of his shoulders with surprising gentleness for a man who looks like he is ready to devour you. Once he’s on his knees and comfortably supporting your weight, keeping you pressed against the console, he places an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“A-are you okay with this?” you manage to stutter out. It’s not like you haven’t pictured his head between your thighs before, but something about his head actually being between your thighs fills you with a nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

He mumbles his assurances against your clit. He begins with slow, languid licks and you suck in a sharp breath as you feel yourself craving more and have to stop yourself from violently bucking your hips up.

Okay, so he’s actually really good at this. You know you really shouldn’t be that surprised, Tech is nothing if not thorough with his research and it’s, er, practical applications. Any thoughts of humour at Tech’s expense are, however, ripped from your mind when he sinks a single finger inside your cunt. His finger curls with a precision that only Tech could manage and you moan in encouragement as he pumps it in and out.

You squirm when he hits the spot that makes you want to beg for more and you feel your bare ass hit a button on the console. The next thing you hear is a soft swish swish sound of the Marauder's screen wipers that you inadvertently turned on. Mercifully, it doesn’t break Tech’s concentration and his hands continue to grip your hips, holding your cunt to his face.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you chant. You writhe again and another button sounds its activation. Nothing immediately makes itself known. You hope it’s not something like a proton torpedo firing into the swampy area the Marauder landed in. Not because there’s anything nearby, but because you’ll die if Tech stops here.

He moans into your core as he brings a hand down to grip his leaking cock, desperate for some friction.

“Kriff,” you grunt at the sight of him fucking his fist, only to hear Tech utter the same exclamation at the same time.

“Is there an echo in here or something?” You smile at him, offering a half-laugh before your face contorts with pleasure once again and you hiss through your teeth.

“Yes?” a new, tinny voice chimes in on the overhead speaker system. “This is Echo... You’ve, uh, turned on the short range comm system.”

You knew Tech was a good soldier, but the reflexes in which he slammed the short range comm transmitter with his free hand surprised you. He didn’t move himself from between your thighs and skilfully cut off the transmission while continuing to work your clit with his tongue and your cunt with his finger.

Before you could die from embarrassment and wonder just how much Echo and the rest of the Batch heard, Tech adds another finger and your entire body jerks and tenses.

“I’ve – ah, right there – Maker, that feels good. I’ve never been with anyone who is patient enough to let me come,” you manage to say through gritted teeth.

“My research indicated that it can take around 20 standard minutes for women to orgasm if properly relaxed, why would others stop prematurely?” Tech replies, only briefly removing his mouth from your cunt to reply.

“Selfishness?” you guess.

Tech seemed to take your admission (and ability to form sentences) personally, clearly intent on rendering you incapacitated. He returns to his attention to your clit and maintains his rhythm, teasing a third finger near your entrance. You whine at the sensation and move to hold Tech’s head in place, because if he stops now, there’s no way you’ll ever forgive him. The pressure that’s been mounting in your core finally, finally peaks and your entire body tenses as you surrender to your climax.

“Tech,” you whine, unable to formulate thoughts, let alone words.

He assures you with a soft groan and tightens his grip on your hip. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he guides you through your climax.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’ve spent a year in bacta. You can’t move. Honestly, your bones are like Andorian jelly. The feeling is only temporary, however, as you’re overcome with the desire – no, need – to be filled.

“In me,” you urge. “Now.”

He adjusts his goggles and looks at you, spread out, completely ready for him.

“Lie back then.”

Tech settles between your thighs and nudges his cock head against your entrance. He takes a breath to steady himself, rubbing his length through your folds, covering it in your arousal.

“So wet and ready for me, mesh’la.”

Your hands wildly grasp at his chest plate, fingernails scratching along the plastoid, desperate to hold onto anything to anchor you. You meet his mouth with a graceless kiss, before he finally sinks into you.

“You’re tight,” he grits out.

He waits a few moments letting you adjust to his size before he begins to move. He restrains himself, slowly rolling his hips as your cunt stretches around his length.

“More,” you plead, breathlessly. “Please.”

Your encouragement is all he needs before he snaps his hips against yours, setting an unrelenting rhythm. He rocks into you harder with each thrust of his hips, his plastoid leg places slapping your skin.

“You feel so good, cyar'ika,” he pants. You surge upwards to greet his lips with a messy kiss, which only spurs him on to fuck you faster. “You’re, ah, taking me so well.”

“Fuck –,” you whine.

His grip tightens and his whole body starts to tense – he’s dangerously close to coming undone. And that’s when you notice his pace start to slow, his movements clearly distracted.

“Tech?” you mumble. You focus your eyes on his face and he looks dazed, you can practically hear him thinking. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t give you any time to panic.

“Elevate your hips by seven to ten degrees,” he states through heavy breaths.

“What?” Definitely not what you were expecting him to say.

Tech seems unfazed by your apparent annoyance. He wordlessly repositions himself, grabbing both of your hips and raising them slightly, holding your body up so it’s just the sharp incline of the console and Tech’s hands keeping you in place.

He began thrusting in earnest again, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure. And, Maker, he was right. The new angle hits a spot that makes your toes curl and you lose the ability to speak almost instantly and mewl helplessly as Tech fucks into you.

You made an undignified noise as you gripped his bicep, desperate to hold onto something, feeling the pressure mount in your core. With Tech’s hands busy holding you in place as he maintains a brutal pace, you bring a hand down to your clit, still wet with spit and your own essence. You barely have to touch yourself before you feel your body screaming for release.

“’M coming,” is all the warning you are able to give him before your cunt spasms around his twitching cock as your vision whites out. Tech grunts at the sensation, unable to hold his own climax off any longer.

“Where do you want me to –,” he grates out.

“Anywhere,” you cut him off, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Just want to feel you.”

“Fuck, mesh’la, I’m going to come,” Tech groans, desperately chasing his release with harsh thrusts. His hips forcefully buck into you before his cock stiffens and he spills himself inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, slowly pumping you full of his cum, before he slumps against you. “Bid jate par me,” he mumbles into your neck, barely audible. “Gotal par me.”

You don’t know Mando’a, but whatever he is saying, the way he is saying it, sends a pleasant chill over your body.

You’re both still breathing heavily when Tech gingerly places you back down with a surprising gentleness for someone who had just been fucking you within an inch of your life. He’s in no rush to remove himself from you, but when his softened cock does slip out and his cum leaks out of you and onto the console, he helps you slide down. When your feet touch the floor, your legs wobble slightly and Tech has to grasp your forearms to steady you, softly chuckling at the state you’re in.

And when you look at him, he looks positively debauched. Sated, but debauched. You probably look worse.

In one swift motion he bends down, brings an arm down under your knees, and lifts you up. You wrap your arms around your neck while he carries you to his bunk. His cool armour against your overheated skin is a welcome sensation and you press yourself closer.

“Your research paid off,” you mumble into his chest as he sets you down on his bed.

“Please do not act so surprised by that.”

++++++++++++++++++++

You and Tech aren’t quite finished with the repairs by the time the Batch return hours later, long after the moons have risen and the bioluminescent plants surrounding the ship have begun to glow. If the squad notice you’re sitting a bit too close to Tech, your thigh pressing comfortably against his, they don’t say anything.

Neither of you were expecting to defile the Marauder all day and Tech was frantically fixing the lever on a storage hatch access panel, attempting to make up for lost time.

“Wrecker!” Echo shouts. “Clean up after yourself, for kriff’s sake.”

“Why?” Wrecker drawls, stomping towards the cockpit. “What did I do this time?”

“You’ve spilled your juice on the console again, all the keys are stuck in place.”

The access lever snaps clean off in Tech’s hands.

#tech x reader #tech x you #tbb x reader #tbb tech x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #the bad batch #tech fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch reader insert #bad batch reader insert #bad batch tech x reader #bad batch tech x you #tech smut #the bad batch smut #my writing #cody writes

[mrpenguinpants]

Childe/Tartaglia: “Enemies” to “Lovers”

Aww, thank you 💕💕 All of you are so lovely ;-; Coming out from the bushes and attacking me.

Have you guy’s seen the Childe trailer? It’s in Chinese but holy shit I want him?? Who is Xiao anymore? WHAT ARE LOYALTIES??? I’m gonna ATTEMPT to roll for Childe. I love snake two faced characters so much.

I’ve never written for Childe before and there’s not a lot to go off on but I will try my best. Honestly, he’s like Dazai 2.0 for me lol.

I’m not sure what scenario you wanted but since I’m hard simping for this man, I made this a lot a bit self indulgent. I actually had a completely different idea so that’s where the enemies to lovers title comes from before I scrapped it. Now if you’ll excuse me, here’s your 2k words of food.

Update: Guess what? You’re getting a part 2. Don’t know when but now I have a taglist if you want to be added and tagged when it comes out 

---

Childe/Tartaglia: “Enemies” to “[Lovers]”

Childe silently hops over the wall and onto the roof in the dead of night. The moon was shining high, casting dark shadows that he slips in between them as he eyes his destination. An open window leading to an important personnel. Usually, he would send an agent to observe, but once he learned who this secret person was, he decided to take it into his own hands. To stretch his muscles a bit. His hand quickly caught the edge of the window sill as he raises himself and drops into the spacious room. He whistles lowly as he looks around. This was a big room but it wasn’t that much of a surprise, considering who was staying here.

“Thank you, have a good night.”

His head perks up as he hears a voice and steps into the shadows of the room. He can faintly make out an outline of a body behind the sliding doors and stands back, out of sight. He watches as the doors slowly open and the person he’s been looking for steps in. One of the leaders of the Qixing. As soon as the door’s close behind you, your shoulder’s finally relaxed before turning around to walk to the other end of the room where a large mirror was placed. You loosen the pin holding your clothes up, finally ready to get rid of these heavy clothes. He quickly averts his eyes but your voice once again breaks the silence.

“Do you make it a habit of watching others without their knowledge or are you going to say something?” you ask as you turn around as your eyes roam around what appeared to be an empty room. He weighs his options before shrugging and stepping out into the moonlight with his arms raised in mock surrender.

“I swear I would look away. I’m a bad guy but I’m not one of those types. I promise!” He laughs casually despite the circumstance, “I’m surprised you noticed me. But I suppose one of the Qixing would be capable of such an act.”

“Oh no, you were perfect. You just came at a bad time. But who are you? You don’t act like an agent” you eyed him carefully as you fiddled with your pin.

“I’m Childe, one of the Fatui’s Eleven Harbingers,” he replies giving a mock bow in your direction. He watches your reaction to see if you’ll panic and call for the Millelith. Instead, you simply nod along and you’ve stopped fiddling with the pin on your clothing.  

“Ah, I’ve met a few of you Harbingers. You don’t look like one” you remarked as you turn around once again to finally undo the pin. Childe quickly turns his gaze away as you settle the heavy clothes on the table to fold. You pull your inner clothes closer to yourself to keep warm in the chilly room.

“I’m a bit too young to see their way of thinking. So I don’t fit in well with them,” he shrugs unbothered. He’s never liked the other Harbingers anyways, “I wasn’t aware that the Qixing had other leaders present.”

“Well, the Qixing prefer to keep things somewhat discreet-”

“Yaoguang? Is everything alright? We heard voices,” one of the Millelith cuts you off as both Childe and your eyes dart to the paper screen door. Childe steps silently towards the window sill, ready to escape if needed. He would have to do a lot of unnecessary explaining if he were caught and the Qixing were already suspicious of the Fatui.

“Yes, I’m alright. I haven’t heard anything at all. Are you sure you are alright? Maybe you should rest,” you quickly walk to the door and slide it open just enough for the Millelith to see your face. The Millelith shakes his head and quietly apologizes for disturbing you before leaving.

“That looks like my cue to go, it’s getting pretty late anyway,” Childe smiles as he ducks under the window sill and gives a small wave back to you.

“Have a good night Childe.”

“You too, Yaoguang.”

---

“Don’t you think the Qixing are a bit too secretive?”

You turn around to see Childe sitting on the window sill as he ponders the thought. His right leg is resting on his left knee as his arm hold’s his chin as he stares at the wall in front of him. You give him a quick once over before going back to what you were doing, polishing your pin.

“Are you sure one of the Fatui should be saying that? Your organization plays with deceit and trickery” you laugh quietly to yourself as you place your pin in a old wooden box. It looked out of place in the room with the crude drawings and chipped paint, but Childe thought it suited you.

“Hey, I don’t agree with those methods at least! I’m here in front of you, aren’t I? But what about you? Aren’t you keeping me a secret from the Qixing?” he grins mischievously as he directs his attention onto you. Your back to still to him but he can watch your face in the reflection of the mirror. He’s not sure if he should commend you on your relaxed expression or the fact that he could easily kill you with your back turned.

“Mm, perhaps. But I enjoy this. You may not believe me but I think of you as a friend Childe. A personal secret of mine.” you say amused as you look up into the reflection of the mirror and manage to catch his surprised expression before it disappears.

“A friend? We’ve barely known each other,” he looked at you incredulously but with a wry smile, “I might seem nice but I’m still a bad guy.”

“A lot of people in Liyue don’t appear as they seem. But I don’t consider all of them as bad people. Don’t you think so Childe?”

He doesn’t say anything. You never mention it again.

---

“I have a younger sister who is an astrologist,” you say as you’re lying back on the bed while he sits on the window sill, “she’s the one that gave me this pin except her pin is red with the star and moon.”

You held the pin up for him to take and look for himself. He slips off the window sill and walks to your lying figure to take hold of it. It was a blue pin with a star in the center and the sun’s rays lining the edges of the rim. It was a bit worn but it was in incredibly good condition. He’s seen how you look at the pin so he’s not surprised.

“Astrology huh? Aren’t you Qixing named after the Big Dipper’s stars?” he asks as he hands the pin back to you and watches your eyes take a childlike gleam. He huffs a bit amused under his breath, you always seem to get like this whenever he let’s you ramble about stars.

“Yes, Yaoguang is translated from the Alkaid star. Alkaid derives from the Arabic phrase meaning "The leader of the daughters of the bier". The daughters of the bier are the three stars of the handle of the Big Dipper, Alkaid, Mizar, and Alioth. While the four stars of the bowl, Megrez, Phecda, Merak, and Dubhe, are the bie,” you ramble on making different gesture as you continue your mini lecture, “Tianquan and Yuheng are the stars Megrez and Alioth. They are here in Liyue too but Tianquan will be the one that preforms the Rite of Descension. It feels as if I’m attending my sister’s talent show even if Tianquan is older than me.”

“Hm, I’ve never looked into studying the stars. I’m more of a fighter,” Childe comments as he hears you laugh that you’re not surprised. He looks towards the moon and see’s it’s his time to leave. You give him a small wave as he starts back to the window sill before giving a small comment over his shoulder.

“You know I also have a younger sister.”

“Is she aware of what you do Childe?”

“No, of course not. Does your sister know what you do?”

“No, she doesn’t know either.”

---

“Can I see your mask?”

He unstraps it from his head and hands it to you as he watches you run your finger around the intricate details before moving it over your face. You’re both seated on the bed this time beside each other.

“I don’t understand how you can fight wearing this,” you say as you squint your eyes through the opening of the mask. He chuckles softly at the weird expression before plucking his mask out of your hands.

“Hm? I thought the Qixing were capable fighters?” he asks as he reattaches the mask to the side of his head. He rest’s his chin back onto his hand and settles back into his comfortable position.

“Yes, Tianquan uses the geo element while Yuheng uses electro,” you list off on one hand.

“What do you use?” he asks.

“Who knows” you answer.

He pouts a bit which you have to stifle your laugh at. It’s somewhat amazing how far he’s gone with this. He’s pretty busy managing business behind the scenes and getting on friendly terms with that funeral parlor man, Zhongli was it? Yet, he finds himself back here whenever he get’s a free night.

“I’m sorry for laughing but I never thought you could make such an expression. But I’m being honest. I can’t use a vision so I don’t know,” you shrug as you lie back down and close your eyes. Childe nods along even though you can’t see him. He had always thought the pin you carried was your vision until you let him hold it for himself.

“If you joined the Fatui. We could give you a vision,” he says as his gaze almost pierces through you but you continue to look unbothered. Your eye’s still remained peacefully closed.

“It’s the night before the Rite of Descension. It will be a busy day so you should get some rest before then Childe”

---

It was the day of the Rite of Descension and he had yet to see you. He knew you would be observing but wouldn’t you at least be at a vantage point where you could view the entire ritual?

“Excuse me, have you seen the Yaoguang?” he asks one of the Qixing attendants but she only looks at him confused. He’s not that surprised about that either.

“Yaoguang? I’m sorry but that leader isn’t here in Liyue right now. Did you mean to ask for Tianquan Lady Ningguang perhaps?” she attempts to correct as she gestures to the middle of the stage, where the white haired woman was standing.

“Yaoguang isn’t here? They haven’t appeared at all these past few weeks for the Rite of Descension to observe?” he asks again but the lady shook her head as he chuckled. So not even people closest to the Qixing knew that one of their leaders was being impersonated.

“Oh, sorry. Yes, I meant for Tianquan Ningguang. Sorry, these star names are a bit hard to wrap my head around” he laughs it off before walking away before the lady has time to respond.

“She is busy preparing for the Rite of Descension so she won’t be seeing anyone anytime soon. Perhaps after the ceremony if it’s urgent?” she still calls out to him before going back to her responsibilities.  

Tartaglia nods as he waves goodbye before continuing on. He never cared for the Rite of Descension but maybe today will be interesting. He spots two familiar faces in the crowd trying to get to the front to see the Rite of Descension. They seem to be friends. He laughs to himself as he reminisces all your past interactions with him. He’ll find out sooner or later who this mysterious Yaoguang impersonator is. After all, the walls have ears.

---

Part 2 perhaps? Depends on the feedback I get on this. I read about the big dipper for this fic. 

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact childe #genshin impact childe x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe imagine #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #childe headcanons #childe imagines

[watchmegetobsessed]

VALERIE - Part V. (Harry Styles)

happy sunday loves!! part 5 is here, buckle up bc we are getting down to business here!! thank you so much for the nice feedbacks, it’s always so moving and inspiring to read your thoughts, so please keep them coming! even if it’s just some gibberish rambling, those are the best haha! now let’s jump right into part 5, we are heading into the christmas mood and im so excited for yall to read this part!! enjoy!

word count: 6.1k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

By the time November nears its end you officially become a couple with Marcus. It happens gradually, two more dates follow your first one, and then on the third one you agree to test the waters of the possibilities between the two of you exclusively. 

Marcus is a great guy. He is funny, caring and smart, always listens to you and cares for even the smallest details about you when you’re talking. He is great company and never fails to make you feel appreciated and wanted. Exactly what you’ve been looking for in a guy, Rosa really hit the nail on the head this time. 

You easily fall into a habit with him. Fridays are for date nights, sometimes you go for little trips outside the city on Sundays and he never misses a chance to send you flowers throughout the week. He is just the type of guy that’s always there to cheer you up with something whenever the days start to weigh down on your shoulders. 

You even have dinner together with Rosa and Steven one Saturday evening, Rosa keeps giving you those ‘I told you so’ eyes whenever Marcus kisses you shortly or places his hand to your waist. You mostly just roll your eyes at her, not wanting to make a big deal out of the two of you, but Rosa knows how long you’ve been trying to find someone. 

What’s a surprising turn is that you start seeing Harry more. Intentionally. You have no idea how it happens, but it does and you’re not mad about it. Some days you grab lunch together whenever he is in the neighborhood, some days you go shopping with him when his sister doesn’t have the time. Harry is a problematic shopper, he takes a long time to decide on clothes so usually you are the one that forces him to choose and finish before all shops close. 

When he has had a rough week and you happened to call him for whatever reason, the two of you agree to meet up for drinks at his place, then end up playing UNO for hours, slowly emptying out two bottles of wine.

It’s starting to get harder to imagine what it was like when things weren’t like this with him. When you were getting anxiety from just the thought of seeing him or having to talk to him. It’s like the both of you are showing a different version of yourselves to each other and you have to admit you enjoy being friends with him. 

He keeps his habit of teasing you and making jokes about you though, but you don’t mind it. He is not doing it in a mean way with the attempt to piss you off, but to make you laugh and start a playful war where you both throw insults at each other until one of you runs out of it and just starts laughing. You feel a kind of dynamic building between you and him that has a way better effect on you than the continuous killing you were doing before.

You can tell Rosa is thankful for the change as well. Whenever she sees you interact with Harry without making a grimace or have that face that screams how badly you want to hit him, she is relieved that she has one less thing to worry about and Valerie will have two amazing godparents who even like each other.

Christmas is always a big parade in your family. Your mom and your aunts always want to celebrate together so in the past few years it has become a tradition to rent a place out that has enough space for the whole extended family and spend three days there from the 23rd to the 25th. This year your dad found a huge cabin in the woods with ten bedrooms and seven bathrooms, just the perfect size for you all. It’s gonna be your parents, Rosa and Steven with Valerie, Aunt Monica, Aunt Teresa with Uncle Andrew, your cousin Etta, her husband Joe and their two kids, your other cousin Lily with her husband Jeremy and their daughter, and lastly you and Harry.  Though your mom urged you to invite Marcus along as well, he could join you for longer than a dinner, since he was already set to fly home to his family.

“You sure he can’t stay for at least the first night?” you mom asks on the phone one evening. You’re stirring the sauce in the pan. holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder so you have both of your hands free.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s fine, he can come for dinner and then leave later.”

“I get it, but it would have been fun if he stayed,” she sighs, clearly disappointed that she couldn’t change what’s already set. If you’re being honest you don’t mind that Marcus is not staying for the night. You haven’t been dating for that long, you feel like it would be a little uncomfortable to have him there the whole time. A dinner is perfectly fine as a starter, since he hasn’t met anyone else from your family other than Rosa and Steven.

“Anyway,” she sighs moving on, “Have you figured it out how you’re gonna get there?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ll tag along with someone.”

“Well, I think you should ask Harry. Everyone else is pretty packed already. Rosa and Steven won’t have any extra space with Valerie this year.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. These past years Rosa always offered you a ride for the holidays, but even when they brought her over for just one night their car was jam-packed. No way you’re gonna fit in there so you are left with Harry since Marcus can only come in the afternoon.

“Sure, I’ll ask him.”

You shoot him a text that day and he replies right away that you’re welcomed in his car, though he won’t be able to take you back since he is leaving early in the morning on the 25th since he is flying back to the UK to his family. It’s fine, you think, you’ll just probably just tag along with aunt Monica back to the city, she always gets her a car for these occasions. Though it’s not your ideal option, she is not the best partner for rides, because she is a fan of smoking in the car, but you don’t have much of a choice. 

“I’ll call you when I leave, okay?” Marcus tells you on the morning of the 23rd. It’s early, barely seven, but he is up because he needs to work a little today and you are finishing up packing since Harry will be here in an hour to pick you up.

“Sure. Drive safe,” you huff sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at your suitcase that’s still not closed, clothes are sticking out on the side and you’re sure you’ll have to sit on it to pull the zipper.

“See you later,” Marcus says before you end the call. 

It’s rather comical how you try to close the suitcase but you only care about the fact that you eventually succeed. Only minutes before eight you are packed and ready so when you get Harry’s text that he is outside you can leave right away.

Seeing you with your big suitcase he hops out of the car and rushes to help you.

“How long are you planning to stay, Y/N?” he chuckles lifting the bag up and you just shrug your shoulders with a smirk. You’ve alway been a heavy packer, no need to try to cover it up.

Harry throws your stuff into the back of the car as you take the passenger seat. His phone is hooked to the car, a playlist of his own playing gently through the speakers and you’re surprised to catch on the Christmas feeling in the songs.

“Are you in the spirit?” you ask when he gets into the car.

“Like to set the mood ahead,” he chuckles starting the car and off you go. 

Ridiculous to think about it, but it’s actually the first time you sit in the same car with Harry or see him drive even. The way you two used to be was not quite ideal to have you locked up in such a small place as a car. But now you have nothing against spending the almost hour long drive with him. 

“Can you pull out the navigation when I leave the highway? I’m not sure where exactly I need to head,” he asks you, eyes fixed on the road ahead of him and nodding you open the app on your phone so his can keep on playing the music without the voice of the navigation interrupting it. 

“Excited to spend your first Christmas with us?” you ask. Though Harry was there at several family events, it’s his first Christmas since becoming Valerie’s godfather. 

“I am,” he chuckles, nodding, hands gripping the wheel gently. He is a natural driver, easily working the car, the kind you feel completely safe next to. As Baby It’s Cold Outside comes on a smile stretches across your lips as you start gently bop your head to the song. “I’ve heard crazy stuff about Christmases at your family,” he adds glancing in your way for a second.

“Like what?”

“I remember when Steven told me about his first Christmas with your family. You remember that?”

Searching in your memories you tried to remember when was the first time Rosa brought Steven along. They dated for two years before they got married so it’s been about five years since then, but as you think hard the memory of that specific year pops into your head making you laugh as you nod.

“Oh, yes. The year Aunt Monica almost burned the Airbnb down,” you sigh grinning at the memory. She brought some special kind of cigars that year that were told to be curiosities from somewhere fancy, but they ended up the literal worst quality, flaming bits were falling out them all the time when she would smoke one, almost making the rug catch on fire wherever she went. Best thing is that she was already drunk on the liquor so she didn’t even notice, there was always a person on Aunt Monica duty, following her around, making sure nothing burnt down. 

“Steven said he had a moment when he thought about bailing,” Harry tells you and you gasp, because that’s new information.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but like only for a split second after your dad walked in on him naked in the bathroom. That was kind of the last straw. Luckily Rosa could convince him to stay. Guess it all worked out at the end.” Harry smiles as he stares ahead of him.

You can’t imagine a version where Rosa and Steven don’t end up together. They met through a mutual friend not long after Rosa had a nasty breakup with her scumbag ex. Steven was there to put her back together and be her partner as she found herself again. The change and positive impact he had on her could be seen every day and you were so thankful to him for helping your sister find her way out of such a dark place in her life. It didn’t take them too long to start dating and he proposed a little more than a year later. You still remember how Rosa was screaming in the phone when she called you that evening telling you that Steven proposed. They are quite literally a match made in heaven. It’s been your goal in life to find this person in your life though you haven’t had much luck with men so far. Ironically, if you were in a room with every man you were ever involved with in any kind of way, Harry would be the only one you’d want to talk with. If you had to make this exact same choice just months ago you would have chosen to run out screaming. 

“Maybe this year it’s your turn to get horrified from us,” you laugh, sinking down a little in your seat as you adjust the seat belt. You’re still quite far away from the cabin, you might as well make yourself comfortable. 

“I think there’s not much that I haven’t witnessed yet. I was walked in on at the bathroom once too, but it was your cousin, Etta.”

“When did that happen?” you ask with a heartfelt laugh.

“I think it was last summer at one of your nieces’ birthday party. Luckily everything was already tucked away when she basically barged in.”

“She didn’t miss much,” you tease him with a smirk and your witty comment catches him by surprise.

“Are you saying my dick is not imposing enough to be worthy of peeking?” he asks with raised eyebrows and you’re happy he is driving. His intimidating look would already burn right into your skin by now, but he is forced to watch the road instead. 

“I mean, if you want to put it that way…” you continue, but a laugh escapes your lips.

“Take that back, Y/N,” he orders, sneaking a hard look at you before turning back ahead, but you can see the small smile hiding on his lips. 

“Or what?”

“Or you might find yourself in a war you don’t want to be involved in,” he warns you, but his words don’t quite have the effect on you he wanted. Because in a heartbeat you find yourself feeling… excited? Thrilled? Even curious about his means behind his words. 

“Wouldn’t want to lie, so…” Pretending like you’re sorry you shrug your shoulders as Harry gives you a look that makes your stomach churn. Now either you are gonna have some fun teasing each other or… you just threw yourself into the arms of the Devil himself. Either way, you’re certain Harry won’t leave it in that.

Turning your head to your window you can’t keep your smile contained as you think of the fact that how big of a lie it was. Harry is surely not a guy who should ever worry about any aspect of his manhood. You’re talking from experience. 

***

The cabin is absolutely gorgeous, just the perfect place for a cozy family holiday. Hidden from the busy roads with a secure gate and tall trees on both sides, the back of it is facing a majestic view of the valley and the evergreen covered hill in the distance. With an interior straight from the pages of a magazine, you need just a few moments to adjust to your surroundings upon arriving.

“I saved a nice room for you, Harry!” your mother gushes the moment she sees the two of you walk through the front door. You huff in annoyance.

“And what about me?” 

Harry chuckles giving you a smug grin. “Guess you’re just second after me.”

“It’s his first Christmas with us, he deserves the better room,” your mom shushes at you, making your eyes roll instantly. It’s still hard to believe Harry has this kind of charm over most people.

After greeting everyone who is already there, your dad, Aunt Teresa and Etta with her family, your mom walks the two of you down one of the hallways that leads to several bedrooms. She stops at the last door with an excited grin on her face as she opens it revealing the bedroom behind it. 

You instantly understand why she thought this is the best one. The view is absolutely breathtaking, the gentle noon light is flowing into the room through the floor to ceiling windows, the king sized bed facing them so when you wake up in the morning the first thing you see is the endless sea of evergreens on the side of the hill. Not to mention the room has its own bathroom, not many of the other rooms are blessed with that. There’s a spacious shower that has enough space for at least three people in there and it’s one of those fancy ones that can make you feel like you’re having a shower in the middle of a jungle, mood lights and bluetooth speakers attached to it.

“No fucking way Harry is getting this room!” you gasp as you look around, taking in the luxure your mother is willing to hand over to him.

“Jealous, much?” he smirks, throwing his sports bag to the bed already ruining the neatly made sheets. He does not deserve this.

“Mom!” you huff turning to her, but she has made her mind up already.

“Your room is nice too, don’t worry Honey. Let Harry have this one!”

“I really can’t believe you are taking his side,” you grumble under your breath, folding your arms on your chest as you take one last look at the stunning view. 

“Come on, Y/N. He is a guest!”

“He is not! You said it yourself he is family now!” you retort and Harry just laughs behind you, so you shoot him a murderous look over your shoulder, that just fuels his entertainment.

“Don’t be silly. Your room is the second one on the right from here,” she smiles at you. “We are gonna take a walk around once everyone arrives, so get settled by then!” she informs you before walking out. 

“Hey,” Harry’s soft voice makes you turn around. “You can have the room if you want.”

Your eyebrows rise at the kind gesture, it’s very not like him, even now in your friendly state, so it’s quite odd that he is willing to switch rooms with you.

“No need,” you shake your head grabbing the handle of your suitcase that you abandoned at the door.

“You sure? It doesn’t matter where I’m sleeping, really.”

“I’m not gonna deal with my mother’s scolding if she finds out I took your room, so you can totally stay.” 

Harry chuckles as you head out, but stop at the door to have one last word with him. “Though I might occupy your bathroom, that shower looks nice.”

“All yours,” he grins before you walk out.

***

By 11 am everyone arrives and the once quiet cabin is now buzzing from life, children running around, Valerie’s babbling shoots through the spacious living area where Rosa set her crib up, your mother is already making preparations for dinner while most of the men are circled around the pool table having a beer since no one has to drive for the rest of the day. 

“When is Marcus arriving?” Rosa asks, eyes on Valerie who is absolutely destroying something that once were an elephant maybe, but she’s been ruthless with the poor animal, chewing and throwing it around all the time, so it’s not just a grey, fuzzy mess.

“Sometime before dinner. He has some work to finish,” you tell her pulling your legs under yourself on the comfy couch.

“And explain again, why isn’t he staying for the night?” she turns to you with a puzzled look.

“Because he is going home to his family early in the morning tomorrow.”

“Okay, but he could have just left from here, didn’t he?”

“It’s… complicated. It’s better if he just goes back home tonight and then leaves from there in the morning.”

What you leave out of the whole explanation is that you didn’t really invite him to stay the night as well. Sounds horrible and ridiculous but you didn’t think you’d have felt comfortable with him staying. You’ve been dating for only barely more than a month and though things are going well, you felt like starting with just a dinner would be a better idea. Marcus didn’t question why you didn’t offer him to stay, it seemed like he was fine with just coming and then going after dinner. 

Does this make you a bad girlfriend? Maybe, but you value your comfort and feelings more than to ruin your favorite holiday with your family. 

Just as you mom said, once everyone is settled in their rooms for the upcoming three days, the whole gang dresses up to have a walk around taking the welcoming little path that runs around the cabin and is smooth enough for Valerie’s carriage as well. Your nieces and nephew are quick to surround Harry and nag him to join them at the front, exploring the woods surrounding the path. It seems like he doesn’t mind it and gladly takes part in the adventure, also secretly looking after them so their parents can have a break and enjoy the stroll in hopes the walk tires the kids out enough that they’ll willingly go to bed in the evening instead of whining to stay up late. 

You’re walking with Etta next to you as she tells you about Hannah’s latest dance competition when you spot that Harry and Oliver, your nephew, Etta’s other kid are suspiciously whispering around pointing in your direction. At last Olly nods and runs up to you showing a quite thick piece of wood into your hand. You look down at him confused.

“Thank you?” you tell him a little unsure what it’s all about.

“I found it in a bush, I want to take it home. Harry said you’ll keep it for me because you have a good hand for thick and hard sticks.”

You almost choke on your own breath, as Olly just carelessly runs back ahead to join his sister. You immediately look over to Etta in fear that she heard what Harry told Oliver, but luckily she was talking with Joe turning back, not really paying attention to the conversation you just had with her son. If she did, Harry probably wouldn’t live by now.

Speaking of the devil, you look in his way and that annoying, smug grin is right there as he nods in your way saluting before he shows his hands into his pockets and turns back around to catch up with the kids. 

That disgusting piece of shit really went into the depth of teaching something secretly dirty to your nephew as a way of payback for your comment in the car earlier. He surely wasn't just joking when he said you’d pay for what you said. And you have a feeling he is just getting started. 

***

Aunt Monica is like a legend in your family. She is the oldest between your mom and her sisters, already in her sixties, but in the heart she still feels like she has just turned twenty. She never married, but had several men in her life, love affairs, short flings, but none of them lasted for more than a year. 

“Why would I settle when there’s so many fish in the sea?” she once told you, her iconic Chanel sunglasses sat on her nose as she sipped on her martini. 

She has worked many jobs throughout her life, she was once a dancer, she waited tables and even worked as a TV host at one point in the ‘80s. She was the true free spirit of the family, her sisters often questioned her sanity, but you think there’s nothing wrong with how she lived her life, enjoying it to the last bit. In the early ‘90s she was seeing a millionaire, probably the only man she would have given her lifestyle up for. Unfortunately, they never married, the man passed away due to his heart problems, however, since he had little to zero family he left basically everything to Aunt Monica. Money, house, cars, business, everything. Being the smart woman that she is, she handed over the business into professional hands but she is still the owner, so the money is still flowing even though she could have lived happily on the money she inherited without ever having to work a day. 

She seems a little odd in your family, but she has always been a loving aunt to you, a caring sister and she never fails to take care of her loved ones. She is the one to pay for all these Christmas getaways, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to stay in places this nice.

“What’s all the money for if I don’t spend it on my family?” she always says when someone questions if she is fine with paying for everything. Your mom and Teresa have tried to convince her to let them at least pay for part of it but she wouldn’t even listen to them. 

She likes to have her own, sometimes odd ways in life. She definitely has a drinking problem, but not in a dangerous way. You have never seen her completely wasted, she just likes to keep things buzzing and always have a drink on her whenever she needs the extra fun. Because of her past she has the greatest stories about meeting famous people back in the days or how soldiers used to try to win her over when she was just a teenager.

“Oh, those things happened,” your mom told you when one day you questioned if you could believe all the crazy stories Aunt Monica tells you. “She was like… the star of the show. Used to hate living in her shadow, but I can’t blame her for enjoying life and doing the things I was too afraid to do myself.”

Now you’re sitting in the sunroom that faces the amazing view behind the cabin, the Christmas tree is standing tall in the corner, beautifully decorated in white and beige. Valerie is snuggled up to your chest as you gently rub her back and you listen to Aunt Monica tell you about how a literal captain once proposed to her after just three days of knowing each other.

“He was a gentleman, but a beast in the bed, Y/N. I’m telling you, men in uniform are just a different level of satisfaction.”

She sighs deep, taking a sip from her margarita that’s definitely not her first drink, and you just laugh nodding.

“He was begging for me to go to Italy with him.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Who said I didn’t?” she asks with a pretentious hurt look turning to you and you just laugh. You should have known the story would go this way. “I accepted the offer, only turned down his proposal when we sailed off and then we parted as soon as I stepped onto the land of Italy. Broke his heart into pieces, but I was too busy enjoying the Italian summer.”

Harry comes in and hands you a bottle filled with juice that probably Rosa sent for Valerie.

“Thank you,” you smile at him shortly as you adjust the little girl in your arms and hand her the bottle.

“Young boy, have you ever proposed to someone?” Aunt Monica asks Harry who stops in his way as he was already about to head out, but now he walks back to the sofa where she is sitting.

“No, not yet,” he shakes his head.

“And how do you think you would if the time came?”

You watch Harry think to himself at the odd and quite random question. It’s not really something you would have ever asked him, but now that there’s the chance to hear his answer you are listening curiously. 

“Depends on the woman I’m proposing to,” he replies after a few seconds.

“How would you propose to Y/N?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to your aunt with shock all over your face. You definitely didn’t want yourself dragged into this.

“Aunt Monica, that’s--”

“Shush! I’m just asking theoretically. Wanna hear his answer.”

Harry’s eyes wander over to your sitting figure on the sofa as he leans onto the back of the one in front of him. You can feel the heat crawling up on your neck to your cheeks under his burning look and you just know he enjoys how nervous you got from this simple question that wasn’t even asked from you. 

Licking his lips he moves his eyes from you over to Aunt Monica who is still waiting for his answer.

“Something romantic, but not too grandiose, I know she doesn’t like being in the center of the attention that much. Maybe…” Tapping on his chin you listen to his words and without even realizing you hold your breath. “Maybe on a hike with a nice view. She would be admiring the view when I get down on one knee and as she turns around I pop the lid on the box.”

What bugs you is that it’s an awfully accurate description of how you’d imagined your proposal. He was right about many aspects, like how you don’t like being in the center of attention. No idea how he nailed so easily, but he did. 

Glancing down you pretend to be busy with Valerie who is still peacefully drinking her juice, eyes wandering around the room relentlessly.

“So you really look to satisfy her deepest fantasies, careful about even the smallest details. Women appreciate it,” Aunt Monica nods, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable she just made you feel.

“Thank you, I do like to satisfy women,” Harry cheekily answers with a smirk, eyes locking with yours for a moment as Aunt Monica lets out a laugh at the dirty comment. Before you could bite your tongue a retort slips out of your mouth.

“What a shame you don’t always succeed.”

Harry’s eyes turn from playful to dark pretty quickly and you enjoy the victory over him. Your comment in the car earlier already wounded his manhood, now it’s another stab right into his… crotch. It’s the least he deserves after what he taught poor Olly.

“That I don’t believe. He seems like an absolute pleaser.” Aunt Monica winks in Harry’s way who just smiles at her shyly, but you can tell your comment is still bugging him. 

“I think Y/N knows that too herself, am I right?” He tilts his head to the side and you stand your ground with holding his gaze and not looking away.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” you simply say, just when you hear your mom calling out for you. “Would you take her please?” you innocently ask walking up to Harry, holding Valerie out for him. You can tell he is looking for a witty comeback, but he has nothing just yet, so he is stuck with keeping his mouth shut as he takes baby Valerie from you. You gift him with a sweet, but definitely spikey smile before leaving him there with Aunt Monica. 

***

Dinner is already almost ready, you’re helping your mom and Aunt Teresa in the kitchen with the finishing touches, Joe and Harry packing out the wine bottles from the rack Jeremy brought them in, the two of them examining the bottles with such professionalism you almost believe they have the slightest idea about what to look for in a good wine. 

“Should we open some red or white ones for tonight’s dinner?” Joe asks your mom who is the master chef when it comes to the dinner.

“Red would suit better,” she answers. “Are they sweet?”

“Some, yeah,” Harry nods holding up a bottle and checking the label.

“Great. Monica loves that too,” Teresa chuckles as she adds some salt to the mashed potato. 

“And Y/N too,” Harry adds, not even looking up, but he successfully attracts your mom’s attention with his comment.

“She does?” Harry looks up and sees your boiling anger plastered all over your face, so of course he chooses to take it further.

“Oh, yeah. She can drink like a gallon. Wine drunk Y/N is like a whole different person.”

“I told you so many times not to get drunk, Y/N. It’s not too ladylike. When was the last time you saw her drunk?”

“There were plenty of occasions,” Harry exaggerates and you could kill him right there. “Though last time it was the tequila that got her wildin’.”

That damned smirk of his is making your hands curl into fists and for a moment you tell yourself it’s okay to punch him in front of your mother even if she’ll probably disown you for such behavior. 

“Y/N! I have told you a million times that you need to know where your limits lie!” she huffs shaking her head at you while you clench your jaw. Back at it with the lessons about getting drunk. She’ll never get over it, not even when you’ll be forty. Why does it matter to her so much? Sometimes she is the one to get you started, but then she gives you the dirtiest looks when you have one too many. She should just get used to it now. 

“She surely likes to have fun when she has had a few drinks,” Harry continues smugly. “Remember how much fun you had at Rosa and Steven’s wedding?”

“Oh, God! I remember how drunk you were that evening, I could have killed you!” your mother growls and you roll your eyes at her.

“It wasn’t that bad. There were a lot more people who got way more wasted than me,” you try to defend yourself folding your arms on your chest. 

“That doesn’t change that you were too,” she says with a hard look. Great, now she is mad at you for something that happened literally years ago. Kudos to Harry for ruining her mood.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Harry adds and you look in his way with suspicion. “She was a delight when it was time to get her to bed.”

Your mouth almost hangs open, but it seems like you’re the only one understanding what he really meant by that. Luckily, beside you and him, Rosa and Steven are the only people who knows what happened between you and Harry that night, so it’s no surprise no one else catches on the hint.

“You were the one who took her up to her room? Sorry if she was a burden,” your mother sighs and right at that moment you wish the floor would just open up and you could disappear forever. Harry’s satisfied grin is the evidence that he just won another round of this nasty war.

Just as you open your mouth to try and move the conversation to another field you see a pair of headlights pull up to the driveway. Everyone turns to the window as Marcus’ car parks down last in the line. As you step away from the counter you see the confusion in Harry’s eyes about the new guest.

“Oh, amazing! He is here!” your mom cheers, seemingly instantly forgetting about how she was dragging you just a minute ago.

“Who’s here?” you hear Harry ask, but you’re already out of there, heading to the front door to greet Marcus.

Just as you walk out into the cold evening air you see him get out with a warm smile on his lips. You wait for him at the door, arms wrapped around yourself and as he reaches you he places a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Hey, how was the drive?” you ask him.

“It was fine. I didn’t arrive too late, right?”

“No, we were just about to set the table. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

He takes your hand in his as the two of you walk inside, all eyes immediately turning your way at the arrival of your boyfriend.

“Everyone, I want you all to meet my boyfriend, Marcus. He is staying for dinner.”

Your family members walk up to the two of you, shaking hands and introducing themselves to Marcus who smiles at everyone politely, trying his best to remember all the names and information that’s thrown at him all of a sudden. Everyone seems delighted to have him for dinner, the kids instantly make him promise he’ll play a card game with them after dinner and he happily says yes to the invitation. 

You can tell your mom is proud that finally both of her daughters are spending Christmas with a man by their side and you’re almost certain your dad took a liking to Marcus the moment he mentioned he is into fishing.

Everyone seems excited and happy for Marcus, there’s just one face that doesn’t fit in the line of joyful smiles. Harry stands quite far from the two of you and only gets closer when he shakes hands with Marcus. His cocky grin is long gone from his face as he keeps his hard look on your boyfriend who is chatting with everyone. Standing next to Marcus, your hand still holding his, your eyes lock with Harry’s and there’s an unknown, burning feeling in your gut when his hard gaze holds yours. The sudden change and cold act gets you wondering what’s really going on in his mind. He is the first one to look away and you watch him walk into the kitchen and disappear from your sight before you force a smile on your lips and turn back to Marcus.

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[lassostark]

So yeah, I got carried away. As usual. *facepalm* Anyway, Happy Birthday, Wolfie @jaskierswolf!!! I hope you enjoy reading this long-ass fic, lovely. 😀💙 

(Edited) Word Count: 9k (I have a problem, I know)

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Tags: AU: College/University, Professor!Jaskier, Professor!Geralt, Soulmates, Rated M for Language, Jaskier!Whump, Miscommunication, Enemies to Lovers (ish, can’t find the right tag sorry), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending

Read on AO3 here

--------

The Other Half

“Do I have a class to teach here or are all of you going to be focused on your phones?”

Jaskier is standing in front of his desk, hands on his hips as he gives his Creative Writing class students a stern look. Several of them look up from their phones with guilty expressions, and if Jaskier wasn’t in the middle of a lecture about storytelling in poetry, he would’ve laughed at their almost identical expressions.

“Sorry, Professor,” Rebecca, one of his favorite students, says. Jaskier raises an eyebrow at her, and the brunette blushes faintly as she reluctantly turns off her phone.

“Care to share what has everyone’s attention glued to their phones instead of me?” Jaskier smirks, injecting a bit of humor into his query. He notes how half of his students chuckle as others follow Rebecca’s lead in turning off their phones.

“It’s Sole Mate, sir,” a student from the back answers.

Jaskier frowns slightly. “Soulmate? Did another celebrity couple split up because they met their other half?”

There’s a ripple of laughter in the classroom while others shake their head. Thankfully, it’s Rebecca who gives him a proper answer.

“Er, no, sir,” she begins. “Sole Mate. The new app that’s been circulating lately? Everyone said it’s loads better than Tinder because instead of just random hook-ups -- um, I mean dates -- Sole Mate allows you to find your, well, soulmate.”

By the end of her explanation, Jaskier’s eyebrows are nearly reaching his hairline. He’s no stranger to social media and technology, so Jaskier knows what Rebecca is talking about. In fact, he’s noticed that aside from the students in the campus, he’s heard his fellow colleagues talking about it every now and then. Which is odd, to be honest, because for one, professors like Jaskier aren’t really that open about the whole soulmate thing. It’s not a taboo, per se, but more like a personal thing because not everyone has met their soulmate yet.

So while he’s aware that people are talking about the topic, Jaskier didn’t think that it was this big of a deal.

“I… see.” Jaskier nods, giving himself a few extra seconds to come up with a follow-up question. He coughs lightly before clearing his throat. “I’ve heard about that app, but I’m afraid I’m not familiar with its algorithm. What makes it so special, hm?”

Another student, Marcus, raises his ring-laden hand in the air. Jaskier gestures for him to speak.

“Well, sir, Sole Mate gives you the option to upload a photo of your soulmark. The photo is never made public, of course, but rather it’s an added feature that’ll help the app. Once it’s in the system, Sole Mate narrows down the scope of the search to people who have a similar look to your mark. It’s broken into groups which the app refers to as Sole Groups. Then you just chat with the people who are in those groups that meet the criteria until you meet the one whose mark matches yours.”

“I read an article from CNN yesterday,” Arif pipes in. “Since the app launched three months ago, there’s been a 95% increase of people finding their soulmates compared to the last ten years. And just yesterday, I found out my great-aunt found her match!”

“I’m going on a date tonight and I think they’re my match!”

Jaskier looks on in befuddlement as his students start to whisper excitedly to one another about the prospect of meeting their soulmate. He blinks and shakes his head before calling their attention once more.

“Alright, alright!” Jaskier calls over their chattering. “Enough now, please. Midterms are a month from now and we still have much ground to cover.”

“How about you, sir? Have you found your Sole Group yet?”

Jaskier hides his amusement at how eager his students look at him. Instead, he shakes his head and smirks at them as he moves around his desk to pick up his chalk.

“No, Damian,” he says mildly. “I don’t see a need for me to do so.”

“But why not?” Rebecca asks, sounding both curious and confused. “Don’t you want to meet your soulmate, sir?”

Fortunate that he’s facing the blackboard so his students can’t see his conflicted expression, Jaskier writes a few notes on the board as he flippantly replies, “I’m happy on my own and don’t see myself settling down, Ms. Haywood.” Before his students can pry further, he adds in a sterner tone, “Now, please pay attention to the lecture because there will be a quiz before the end of this class.”

There’s a collective groan behind him which Jaskier happily ignores as he launches into his lecture once more.

~

“‘I’m happy on my own and don’t see myself settling down’?” Essi repeats to Jaskier later when they’re on their lunch break. “That’s a load of bollocks, love.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes as he pops a grape in his mouth.

“Obviously,” he says after swallowing his food. “My students don’t need to know I already met my soulmate, Essi.”

“I know that,” Essi replies. “And I respect your privacy for saying that. But you don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

“What the hell are you on about now?”

“I mean that you don’t have to lie to yourself, Jask.”

“I’m not lying!”

Essi scoffs at him. “Oh, please. We’ve known each other for nearly ten years. I know when you’re lying, Jask. You do that thing with your lips; it’s subtle but don’t think I didn’t see it earlier.”

Jaskier scowls at his friend, who’s one of the best and strictest Marketing professors in Redania University. So instead of replying, he decides to take a huge bite out of his ham and egg sandwich.

She’s lucky I love her, Jaskier thinks moodily.

“Still haven’t spoken to him?” Essi asks him after several minutes of comfortable silence pass.

‘Him’ being Jaskier’s soulmate, obviously.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Are you ever going to speak to him?”

“Once he has his head out of his arse, maybe I’ll contemplate breathing the same air as him.”

Essi whistles low. “Damn, was the confrontation really that bad, Jask?”

Jaskier pointedly stares at her.

“Essi, darling, I’ve told you about it a hundred times in various states of inebriation and sobriety. Of course it was bad. It was horrendous for both parties.”

And honestly, Jaskier doesn’t want to talk about it. Hell, he doesn’t even want to think about it because every time he does, he feels nothing but disappointment and anger and hurt. Goddamn it, it’s been three years and it still fucking hurts. It’s a constant phantom pain in his chest that Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with, and he’s been living with that kind of pain for years with no hopes for resolution in sight.

He thinks of that day, the confrontation as Essi puts it, and all Jaskier can think of are golden eyes filled with apathy. An inscrutable expression on his soulmate’s chiseled features after Jaskier told him that they’re meant to be together.

Well, Jaskier didn’t say it like that, exactly, because he was nervous. He was rambling and sweating in places he didn’t know he could sweat, and he had just met his soulmate for fuck’s sake!

Alas, like the idealist he is, his expectations didn’t meet his reality.

“Oh shit,” Essi suddenly says, breaking Jaskier from his glum thoughts. “Don’t look. Your three o’clock.”

Because Jaskier has an issue with impulse control, he looks.

And he freezes.

There, dressed in tight-fitting grey slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, is Jaskier’s soulmate.

Geralt Rivia.

His hair is fixed into a man bun, and Jaskier feels his chest constrict at the wisps of silver hair framing his jawline. Geralt hasn’t seen them, thankfully, because he’s busy chatting with Yennefer Vengerberg, the gorgeous yet cutthroat International Relations professor who’s notorious for failing 40% of her students.

Jaskier is about to look away when Geralt turns his head and meets his eyes.

Fuck.

He notes the deep furrow between Geralt’s brows, the Anthropology professor’s hold on his lunch tray tightening when their gazes meet across the room. As much as Jaskier talks about being alright on his own, he can’t help but secretly admit to himself that he likes the shiver of pleasure that runs down his spine when their eyes meet. Jaskier read somewhere that researchers called it The Spark. It’s cheesy, yes, but it’s exactly that. An electrifying feeling shared between two halves of a whole finding each other.

Then reality comes crashing down and Jaskier remembers what Geralt told him that day and he thinks: Fuck this.

Appetite gone, Jaskier clears his throat and looks away. He deliberately ignores Essi’s sympathetic gaze as he packs up the rest of his uneaten food. He stands up and slings his shoulder bag before daring to look at his friend.

“I just remembered I have papers to grade. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Essi nods her head. Jaskier doesn’t wait for a reply and turns to make his escape, but not before he catches Geralt still staring at him.

For the life of him, Jaskier is still unable to read the man’s facial expressions. It’s just so… inscrutable. Like staring into a slab of brick wall with no hopes of breaking through it. Jaskier doesn’t know why he still finds himself caring at this point.

Who is he kidding? He’s always cared.

“Professor Pankratz.”

Jaskier averts his eyes from Geralt to meet Yennefer’s violet eyes, a smirk on her ruby lips. They’re not close, and though he finds the woman equally terrifying and beautiful, Jaskier can’t help but be a little fond of her.

“Professor Vengerberg,” he acknowledges her haughty look with a faint smile.

From his peripheral gaze, Geralt looks like he’s opening his mouth to address him. But Jaskier thinks it’s probably a trick of the light, so he walks away and forces himself not to look back.

No matter how painful it is. No matter how his soulmark feels like it’s going to burn a hole through his shirt.

~

3 years ago

“Is that the new Anthropology professor?” Essi whispers to Jaskier excitedly.

Jaskier gazes across the spacious meeting room to find the person his friend is referring to. It’s about damn time the university hired someone to replace Mousesack. The elderly scholar looked like ready to drop if he stayed for another semester.

“I don’t see-- oh.”

Oh, indeed. Jaskier shamelessly eyes the silver-haired Adonis dressed in grey slacks and a tight-fitting dress shirt. He notes with mild amusement how the newcomer looks a little awkward standing beside the drinks table, drink in hand as he silently eyes his surroundings with a guarded expression.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous,” Jaskier says under his breath.

“The hair isn’t doing it for me, but yeah he’s gorgeous,” Essi agrees with a hum.

“I’m gonna introduce myself. Be right back.”

Jaskier doesn’t wait for Essi’s response as he quickly crosses the room to approach the brooding man. Like a lone wolf eyeing his prey, he thinks with an inward chuckle.

“Hello, there,” Jaskier greets the man with a friendly smile once he’s standing a respectable distance from him. He quickly takes note of their height difference. Well, more like a lack of it as Jaskier surmises the burly man is only an inch or two taller than him. “You must be the new Anthropology professor. I’m Julian Pankratz, but everyone here calls me Jaskier. I teach Introduction to Creative Writing and Advanced Creative Writing.”

Jaskier feels his smile start to falter as the silver-haired Adonis initially doesn’t accept his handshake. He’s about to bring down his arm when he feels a warm, calloused hand curl around his.

That’s when he feels it: the spark. Jaskier is unable to hide a gasp when he feels an electrifying feeling trail down his spine. He blinks owlishly at the other man who looks just as shocked as him.

“Geralt Rivia,” the man introduces himself after a few seconds of awkward silence pass. Jaskier feels another shiver down his spine upon hearing the low, growly voice.

“N-nice to meet you, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

Instead of feeling annoyed, Jaskier feels endeared at the non-verbal reply. He finds his gaze falling on their clasped hands, and he’s about to let go when something catches his eye and he freezes on the spot.

Geralt has his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, so Jaskier can see the veins and light dusting of hair on his arm. But that’s not what he’s focusing on, no. He finds himself drawn to Geralt’s forearm, where a familiar-looking mark resides. A mark that Jaskier can draw in his sleep because he bears the same mark since he was born.

Holy shit, Jaskier thinks as he looks up to meet Geralt’s puzzled frown with a slackened expression. I just met my soulmate.

~

Present day

“Hang on, you bloody cat,” Jaskier grumbles under his breath as he enters his one-bedroom apartment later that evening. Mister Fuzzball meows and curls his orange tail around his calf while Jaskier locks the door. “Yes, yes, you will get your meal in a bit. Just let me put down my bag, darling.”

Mister Fuzzball meows again as the tabby cat trails after him.

Jaskier goes through the motions of his nighttime routine like clockwork. Change into his home clothes, feed Mister Fuzzball, prepare his own dinner, and then eat his dinner on the couch while watching a rerun episode of The Office.

Afterwards, he leaves the dirty dishes on the sink to sit on the small dining table to grade more papers. He works silently for a couple of hours while nursing a glass of wine, and when Jaskier finds that he can no longer find the energy to constructively criticize his students’ writing, he turns in for the night. He cuddles Mister Fuzzball for a few minutes before going to the loo to brush his teeth and do his extensive skincare routine.

By eleven o’clock, Jaskier is in bed with the lights turned off. He lets out a sigh as he stares aimlessly at his ceiling and wonders how his life has come to this. Just going through the motions of a routine well-established whilst trying his best to ignore the ache in his chest.

Lost in his thoughts, Jaskier finds himself stroking his left collarbone, tracing the lines that are slightly raised as he hums a nameless tune under his breath.

Rebirth. That’s what his soulmark symbolizes. But all Jaskier feels these days is the opposite.

He doesn’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.

~

“- so I told mum that I’ll spend Christmas with them and then go to Scotland for New Year’s with Edmund. What about you?”

Belatedly, Jaskier notices the silence has stretched on, so he looks up from staring at the painting of Philippa Eilhart to meet Essi’s worried gaze.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you alright, Jask?” Essi asks. “You don’t look too well, love.”

Jaskier bats off her hands as his friend tries to feel his forehead for a fever.

“I’m fine, Essi. Just tired.”

“Not sleeping well?”

He shakes his head. He can’t explain it, but he’s feeling more lethargic than usual.

“No, I’m sleeping fine. I’m just tired, s’all.”

Essi doesn’t look convinced, so Jaskier musters what strength he has left to smile at her.

“I’m fine, mother. There’s no need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“If you say so, Jask,” Essi replies with an eye roll. Then teasingly, she adds, “Better apply concealer, though. I can see your bags from here.”

Jaskier gasps and tosses the crumpled wrapper of his sandwich at her.

~

3 years ago

“Geralt! Hey, hi. Do you have a minute?”

Jaskier smiles nervously at the hot Anthropology professor who is about to exit the break room. Geralt turns to look at Jaskier with a puzzled frown before he grunts and nods his head. Relieved, Jaskier tilts his head and gestures for the other man to follow him to a somewhat secluded corner of the room. Although standing beside the painting of Philippa Eilhart, one of the founders of Redania University, isn’t such a good idea. But Jaskier is out of good ideas at this point because he’s nearly bursting at the seams to do something he’s been meaning to do for the past three months since he met Geralt Rivia.

“What did you want to talk about?” Geralt asks him, looking curiously at Jaskier now.

Jaskier clears his throat and wipes his sweaty palms on his slim corduroy pants as he works up the nerve to just… do it.

“Yes, um, so,” he begins eloquently. Oh gods, this was easier in his head. “So we’ve known each for a few months now and I like to think we’ve reached a certain understanding of one another. One might, er, even say that we’re casual friends at this point.”

Geralt blinks at him but doesn’t say anything. If Jaskier looks closely, which he is, he thinks there’s something akin to amusement dancing in the other man’s golden eyes. Could be a trick of the light, but Jaskier has high hopes.

“Geralt, um,” Jaskier continues. He tries his best to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his belly as he focuses on what he’s going to say next. “I don’t know how to say this, exactly, because it’s never happened to me before. But, um. Well, the university is singing your praise and you’re an unexpected hit with the students. No surprise there, if you ask me, you’re an incredibly beautiful man and, oh god.”

“You’re rambling,” Geralt notes with a slight upwards quirk of his mouth.

Jaskier scratches the back of his head. “Yes, I’m well aware, thank you.”

Geralt snorts, looking amused now.

“Just spit it out, Jask,” he says not unkindly.

And, well. That ought to do the trick.

“We’re soulmates,” Jaskier blurts out. He doesn’t notice Geralt stiffen, too preoccupied with getting the words out now that he’s finally said it. “And before you say anything, I saw your mark. On the first day we met - well, I introduced myself. We shook hands and you had sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and that’s when I noticed the mark etched on your forearm.” When Geralt doesn’t say anything, Jaskier hurriedly adds, “I have the same mark, you see. Right here.”

Then and there, Jaskier unbuttons his white dress shirt and yanks the collar of his undershirt down to show Geralt the same dandelion tattoo across his left collarbone.

Seconds, and then minutes, pass by and Geralt remains stoic, an unreadable expression on his chiseled features. Jaskier’s smile falters as he self-consciously buttons up his shirt once more, feeling naked and seen under the stoic gaze of his colleague.

“Geralt? What, um. Please say something.”

It takes several seconds before Geralt reacts. The older man breathes in deep through his nose and slowly exhales through his mouth. He blinks at Jaskier, golden eyes swiftly glancing at his covered soulmark.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier nearly balks at the response. Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that!

“Geralt?”

When Geralt meets his hopeful stare, Jaskier knows his answer from the lack of emotion in the other man’s eyes. Something in him cracks at that very moment.

“I don’t know what to say,” Geralt begins haltingly.

Jaskier’s voice is hoarse when he answers, “The truth would be nice.”

Geralt hums but doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He looks at the painting to his left, and Jaskier silently observes him as he works up the nerve to share his thoughts.

Eventually, Geralt settles upon saying, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

A part of Jaskier was already expecting it, based on Geralt’s initial reaction, but it still hurts, holy shit.

“Can you…” Jaskier clears his throat. “Can you tell me why? Maybe, maybe we can compromise?”

His voice trails off when Geralt shakes his head.

“I’m not… available. The whole soulmate thing is… hmm. It’s not my thing. I don’t believe in that whole destiny crap. I’m sorry.”

Not his thing? Doesn’t believe in the “whole destiny crap”?

What?

“But, but Geralt,” Jaskier protests weakly. “You’re my other half. And I’m your--”

“I said I’m not interested,” Geralt reiterates firmly, golden eyes determinedly not meeting Jaskier. “I’m sorry, Jaskier.”

Then without waiting for a response, Geralt shoulders past him and leaves the break room like he’s being chased by a pack of wolves.

Jaskier stares at the spot where Geralt was standing just moments ago, feeling like he lost the one thing he never had in the first place.

~

Present day

“Remind me again why Valentine’s Day is not considered a proper holiday?”

Essi is looking through the books that line up the shelves of Jaskier’s office as he rummages the piles of paper scattered on his desk.

“Because Valentine’s Day is not a proper holiday, Essi,” Jaskier answers somewhat distractedly. He continues searching for one of the papers he remembers grading the night before, but he can’t find. It. Here. “It’s just a big, fat scheme for companies to capitalize on lovesick fools. Now where the bloody fuck is that paper?!”

Essi ignores his grumbling.

“Hmm, true, but they should. I mean, any business big or small can develop a strong value proposition aimed at lovesick couples. Of course, the competition would be ghastly, but considering that Sole Mate has matched 5,000 couples in the UK alone, I think they missed an opportunity there.”

“Whatever you--” Jaskier starts to say, only to immediately cut himself off when he starts coughing. And it’s not the good kind of cough, either.

He spends almost a minute coughing up a lung, and he ultimately accepts the tissues Essi hands him. He thanks her with a thumbs up before he spits out the phlegm on it. Jaskier crumples it up before tossing it in the bin under his desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Are you okay?” Essi asks him, sounding worried.

Jaskier nods as he clears his throat before speaking.

“Yes yes, I’m fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you.”

“Jask, you don’t look fine.”

Jaskier waves off his friend’s concern as he pushes a book out of the way. He makes a triumphant sound when he finally finds the missing paper. Jaskier quickly shoves it into his messenger bag as he picks up his blazer to shrug into it.

He meets Essi’s worried gaze, and Jaskier tries to appease her with a dimpled smile.

“Turn that frown upside down. I’m perfectly fine, Essi.”

Essi still doesn’t look convinced. “Have you been to the doctor? You should go for a check-up.”

Jaskier shakes his head.

“I’m still recovering from the flu last week but I’m regularly drinking that herbal tea you recommended to me. It’s working wonders on my throat. I’ll be right as rain in no time, don’t you worry.”

~

Rejected soulbonds are few and far between as far as Jaskier is aware. There’s not much study material available on the Internet, but what he’s found out so far doesn’t help ease the anxiety that’s been building up for months now.

Lethargy. A decrease in the immune system. Difficulty with sleeping. Shortness of breath.

They’re a few of the symptoms that researchers from Kerack Institute compiled a few years ago from studying broken, or rejected, soulbonds. According to their study, it’s not a life-threatening situation. People who experience this usually end up recovering after a period of time. Broken or rejected soulbonds usually occur if the person’s soulmate is deceased before they meet, or if their other half is already in a committed relationship with someone else.

In Jaskier’s case, it’s neither. Geralt’s rejection still stings after all these years, and Jaskier doesn’t understand why he still feels like it happened yesterday. The ache in his chest is not dissipating at all. In fact, it’s worsening as days go by. He’s been to see a cardiologist, and the scans showed that his heart is perfectly fine. So whatever Jaskier is going through right now is not physical, but more… psychological? Emotional?

He’s not certain about that since there’s not enough material about his case. But one thing does stand out from what Jaskier read about rejected soulbonds.

Proximity is what makes or breaks the affected party.

Unfortunately, Jaskier and Geralt are employed in the same university. They attend the same weekly meeting, attend the university’s functions when required, and they usually see each other during their breaks. It’s not often, but it happens frequently.

So the more he sees Geralt, the worse Jaskier feels. And over time, it could literally be his life on the line.

And therein lies the problem.

Well, there’s only one thing left to do.

~

“You want to go on sabbatical?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“I believe that’s what I just said, yes.”

Vesemir Morhen, the president of Redania University, looks at Jaskier with a perplexed expression.

“Jaskier, may I know why you’re requesting to go on leave in the middle of the semester?”

Jaskier hesitates for a second before replying, “I just think it’s the right time to do so, sir. I talked to Priscilla, and she’s willing to shoulder my classes for the rest of term. There’s not much ground to cover--”

“Jaskier, Priscilla is going on maternity leave starting next month,” Vesemir interrupts him, eyebrow raised.

“Well, um, I’m aware of that.”

“Then why--”

“That’s why I talked to Coën to cover for her, well, for me, next--”

“No.”

Jaskier snaps his mouth shut mid-tirade at Vesemir’s stern gaze.

“Sir, please, I--”

Vesemir shakes his head.

“No, Jaskier. If you really want to take a sabbatical, you can do so after the term ends. At this moment, I can’t allow you to go on leave. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“Very well, sir,” Jaskier answers stiffly, knowing that once Vesemir has made his mind up there’s no chance of him changing his decision.

So he’s stuck for another three months here.

Fuck, he curses to himself. Damn it.

~

It’s a little late in the evening and Jaskier is just about to leave his office. After hours of hunching over his desk marking papers from his Advanced Creative Writing class, Jaskier is more than ready to eat leftovers for dinner and binge-watch a few episodes of Anne With An E. Fortunately, he doesn’t have a scheduled class until tomorrow afternoon so he can sleep in a little bit later.

Jaskier locks his office, pockets his key, and turns to walk down the hallway towards the parking lot when he finds himself meeting Geralt’s gaze across the corridor. A jolt runs down his spine as he staggers in his steps, and Jaskier is momentarily nonplussed at the peculiar look on the burly man’s face.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says eventually when he doesn’t speak up.

Jaskier swallows inaudibly, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth.

“Geralt.”

Jaskier waits patiently as he eyes the Anthropology professor who looks like he’s working up the courage to say something. It’s certainly a first, and Jaskier is not sure what Destiny has up her - his? Their? - sleeve this time.

He’s fucking exhausted, damn it.

“Yennefer told me you were planning to go on sabbatical,” Geralt finally blurts out in his typical gruff voice.

Jaskier blinks. Well, he was certainly not expecting that.

“What? I mean, how in the world did Yennefer find out? I never spoke to anyone about this except Vesemir.”

He notes with awe as Geralt shuffles his feet on the hardwood floors, and for a moment, something akin to fondness wells up in Jaskier’s chest before he tamps it down. This is not the time to feel anything remotely positive towards Geralt Rivia when he’s the source of Jaskier’s misery.

“Hmm, well,” he hears Geralt reply. “She told me she heard it from someone who overheard Vesemir’s assistant talking to Tissaia after you left. So it could be anyone.”

Jaskier is unable to hide a groan of frustration. He runs a hand through his already disheveled chestnut locks as he thinks, Great, they’re definitely going to bring this up at the meeting on Friday. Nosy little witches.

“Yes, well, it’s not happening,” Jaskier says with a shrug. He finds himself taking a step, and another, and another, before he’s walking down the corridor to narrow the distance between him and Geralt. And he doesn’t stop when he reaches the other man’s side. “Vesemir said I can’t go on leave right now, so I’ll still be here until the end of term.”

He hears footsteps behind him, and Jaskier inwardly curses when Geralt picks up the pace to follow him.

Just his luck. And why the fuck now?

“Is everything okay?”

Puzzled at the non-sequitur, Jaskier doesn’t break his stride, but he does look over his shoulder to see the closest thing to concern written over Geralt’s face. A part of Jaskier finds it endearing before he swats that thought away with a scowl.

“Everything’s fucking peachy, Geralt,” he answers waspishly before turning his attention ahead of him. “And why are you following me?”

“I’m not, I’m going to the parking lot,” Geralt says simply. This time, Jaskier detects a hint of amusement in his tone, which only serves to piss him off. “Where did you plan on going, then?”

“None of your business,” Jaskier says through gritted teeth. He thrusts open the double doors and quickly descends the stone steps two at a time.

“What’s gotten into you?” he hears Geralt ask, and that’s it.

They reach the parking lot, but instead of marching over to his blue Volkswagen Beetle, Jaskier whirls around to face Geralt. He distantly notes with satisfaction how the other man quickly takes a step back.

“Nothing has gotten into me,” Jaskier says, aggravated beyond comprehension in that moment. “I just wanted some goddamn space, but apparently that’s really fucking hard to come by these days. So for the love of god, take your curiosity and fake sincerity and leave me the fuck alone.”

Geralt’s brows furrow as he meets Jaskier’s glare with perplexity.

“I… it’s not--” he protests haltingly before he shakes his head and tries again. “I only wanted to know--”

Jaskier swiftly cuts him off.

“Well, you lost that right the day you rejected me,” he spits out. Distantly, he knows he’s being too harsh, but Jaskier can’t bring himself to care right now because nothing in his life makes sense anymore. He misses the flicker of emotion that passes over Geralt’s face, too busy turning around to unlock his car. “Just… just leave me alone, Geralt.”

If Geralt responds, Jaskier doesn’t hear it. He starts the ignition and doesn’t bother to warm up the car. He quickly reverses from his parking space and presses his foot on the gas, wanting to get as far away as he can from the one person his soul is aching to be close to.

~

“Damn, Jask,” Essi says after Jaskier relays to her what happened that night over the phone. “You really tore him a new one, huh?”

“Serves him right,” Jaskier grumbles. He takes another bite of leftover orange chicken as he listens to his friend whistle on the other end. “I know that kind of whistle. That’s your disapproving whistle.”

“Yes, well,” Essi starts. Jaskier frowns, so he pauses the show he’s watching, cutting off Anne mid-tirade as she talks to Gilbert Blythe.

“What is it?”

Essi hesitates for another second before eventually saying, “Don’t you think you were a little harsh on him, though?” Before Jaskier can respond, she continues. “Don’t get me wrong. Geralt should’ve seen it coming and I understand where you’re coming from, Jask. But I don’t know, something doesn’t add up to the confrontation. Like, I feel like your reaction wasn’t justified enough?”

Jaskier sighs.

“What do you want me to say, Essi? He was being nosy and I didn’t like it. We barely exchanged a word in three years and of all the occasions, he chooses now to do so? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either.”

Essi is silent for a while.

“Something’s up with you, Jask.”

Jaskier is lucky that they’re not talking over FaceTime because he would’ve been caught in that moment.

“Nothing’s up with me,” he says with an eye roll. He knows Essi doesn’t believe him, so he adds, “I swear, Essi. I just want a break, and I think not seeing Geralt’s face for a year is the first step.”

~

Weeks pass, and spring slowly introduces itself in hues of green and yellow. Jaskier is able to breathe a little easier when he notices the distinct lack of one Geralt Rivia. Sure, they still see each other during faculty meetings, but that’s a given. Outside of that weekly assembly, Jaskier doesn’t see neither hide nor hair of the silver-haired Adonis. A part of him sighs in relief because at least his one wish was granted. But another part of him, the bigger part, can’t help but feel melancholy at no longer seeing or bumping into his soulmate.

After all, it’s for Jaskier’s benefit that it has to be this way until the end of term. Less than three months to go and he can finally go on sabbatical. He doesn’t know where he’s going yet, but Jaskier finds the idea of starting in New Zealand to visit Hobbiton very appealing.

He’s going to miss his students, of course. He’s going to miss Essi and Priscilla, and the other faculty members he’s gotten close to over the years. He’s obviously going to miss Mister Fuzzball, his orange tabby purring and constantly requesting for cuddles and treats. He hates to admit it, even to himself, but Jaskier knows he’s going to miss Geralt. Fuck, he misses the man right this moment, and the idea of not seeing his soulmate for a year makes him feel… antsy.

“No, we’re doing this,” Jaskier shakes his head. Mister Fuzzball meows and he looks down to see his cat playfully nipping at his fingers. Jaskier chuckles and cuddles Mister Fuzzball closer to his chest. “You’re right, Mister Fuzzball. This is for the best. Distance is what will heal this rejected bond, that’s for certain. What’s the worst that could happen, right?”

Mister Fuzzball meows and boops his nose to Jaskier’s chin.

Yes. Easier said than done.

~

It all comes to a head in late May.

Finals week is looming closer so Jaskier and the rest of the faculty at Redania University are working overtime. After a tiring week of preparing exams and preparing his handover to the Literature Department before he goes on sabbatical, Jaskier elects to pamper himself once the weekend rolls around.

He wakes up after eleven on a Saturday morning and decides to have brunch at his favorite pub. He calls Essi, who agrees to meet him at Rosemary & Thyme in half an hour, before he gets up from bed and starts getting ready for a relaxing day outside. Maybe he’ll try and coax Essi to go shopping with him. Retail therapy has worked wonders on his mental state before.

But Jaskier never managed to do any of those things.

Instead of taking his car, he elects to take the subway instead because finding a parking space is always a pain in the arse on the weekend. Jaskier is only a few blocks away from reaching Rosemary & Thyme when he hears the commotion before he sees it.

Several vehicles’s horns start blaring while people from the sidewalks shout in alarm. Jaskier turns at the noise, and he feels his heart leap to his throat when he sees a small blonde girl running to the middle of the road to pick up a round, furry stuffed toy she likely dropped.

“Ciri!”

The voice who yells the child’s name is somewhat familiar, but Jaskier ignores it for the moment because a child is in danger. He doesn’t know how it happens or why, but something clicks in Jaskier that makes him act on instinct. He pushes past the other onlookers staring in horror and sprints to the middle of the busy street.

The small blonde girl -- Ciri -- can’t be more than five years old. She has the furry toy clutched to her chest when Jaskier reaches her side. From his peripheral vision, he glimpses a cab approaching them, and the next several seconds happen in slow-motion.

The cab’s brakes screech as the driver spots them a little too late.

The blonde girl’s emerald eyes lock on Jaskier, a look of awe and confusion on her freckled gaze.

Around them, several bystanders are either frozen on the spot or shouting in alarm.

Geralt stands at the curb with Yennefer and a few other burly men, a look of undisguised terror on his handsome face.

It feels like a lifetime and not, and without giving it much thought, Jaskier finds himself lifting the blonde girl and tossing her in the arms of the one cyclist who had the presence of mind to block the other cars who managed to brake on time.

Except for one.

One second, he has both feet on the ground, and the next Jaskier finds himself on his back on the concrete floor. He feels something sticky trickle down his face, and when he tries to speak, he ends up coughing on the metallic taste of blood.

Oh. So he got hit by the cab, then.

A cacophony of noise permeates through his muddled senses. Sirens and screams and several pairs of feet thudding closer and closer. Jaskier tries to blink but his vision is blurring.

“Jaskier, Jaskier,” the familiar voice says, sounding panicked and choked to his ears. Do they know him? “Jaskier, oh fuck. Hold on, Jaskier. Help’s on the way.”

“Eskel, take Ciri from the cyclist,” another familiar voice filters through. “Geralt, don’t move him. We don’t know what injuries he’s sustained.”

“What injuries-?!” an unfamiliar growly voice interrupts. “He got hit by a fucking car! He’s definitely broken some bones.”

“Lambert, be useful and call a fucking ambulance,” the familiar voice growls back. There’s a gurgling sound before the familiar voice, Geralt, speaks up. “Ssh, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“Ngh,” Jaskier slurs. He tries to keep his eyes open but it’s becoming more difficult by the second. “G’rlt.”

“Keep your eyes on me,” the voice repeats, and they sound choked with emotion. “Jask, stay with me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please stay with me.”

It’s the last thing Jaskier hears before he loses consciousness.

~

2 weeks later

“You wonder what he’s thinking when he shivers like that. What can you tell me? What could you possibly tell me? Sure, it’s good to feel things, and if it hurts, we’re doing it to ourselves--”

Someone knocks on the door before it opens, and Jaskier looks up to see the nurse, Jackie, standing on the threshold. Essi, who’s been reading to him his favorite poems for the past hour, stops to look up as well.

Jackie smiles at them before she addresses Jaskier, “I’m sorry for interrupting you, but you have another visitor, Jaskier.”

A glance at the clock nailed to the wall in front of him alerts Jaskier that it’s already past three o’clock.

“Shit,” Essi curses beside him, clearly taking note of the time as well. “Sorry, Jask. I lost track of the time. I need to go.”

She looks down apologetically at Jaskier, who shakes his head in understanding and smiles warmly at her.

“Not at all, Essi,” he says, voice still a bit hoarse. “Thank you for visiting me again. I’m sorry for keeping you.”

Essi pockets her phone and slings her messenger bag across her shoulders before leaning down to brush a hand through Jaskier’s unwashed hair and planting a soft kiss on his bandaged forehead.

“Don’t apologize, silly,” she admonishes slightly once she straightens. She smiles crookedly at Jaskier and brushes her fingers on his face, lightly tracing the faint bruises on his cheek. “I’ll drop by again tomorrow before my afternoon lecture. Do you need me to get you anything?”

“No, I’m good. But please feed Mister Fuzzball, and cuddle him for me, won’t you?”

Essi rolls her eyes good-naturedly but nods her head. “Of course, Jask. I got Mister Fuzzies under control.”

“It’s Mister Fuzzball!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Love you. Take it easy and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

It’s Jaskier’s turn to roll his eyes, but he carefully waves his bandaged wrist at his best friend’s departing figure.

“Love you too. See you later, Daven.”

When Essi disappears around the corner, less than thirty seconds pass before Jaskier’s next visitors come in.

“Jaskier! You’re awake!” a small, blonde girl greets as she dashes inside the room. She stops at the very last second when she reaches Jaskier’s side, careful with his injuries as she climbs up the bed to plant a sloppy but very welcome kiss on his bruised cheek.

“Of course I’m awake, darling,” Jaskier answers with a dimpled grin as he playfully boops Ciri’s nose, causing the child to giggle. “I would never pass up the chance to miss your visit.”

“How are you? Did you finish watching Frozen yesterday? You fell asleep and Papa said I shouldn’t disturb you.”

“I’m feeling better now that you’re here. And no, I didn’t finish Frozen yesterday but I already watched it before so it’s okay. What movie do you want to watch next, hm?”

Jaskier chuckles as he listens to Ciri prattle on for the next few minutes about her favorite scenes in Frozen and how she wants to watch an old Disney film called The Emperor’s New Groove. Jaskier looks up to see the second visitor who silently trailed after the energetic child, making sure to shut the door behind him to give them privacy.

Geralt is already seated on the chair Essi just vacated, the silver-haired man looking at Ciri and Jaskier with undisguised fondness. If someone told Jaskier that he would be the object of Geralt Rivia’s shameless googly eyes, he would tell them where to shove it. But as it is, since his unfortunate accident two weeks ago, it’s like the man did a 180-degree. It’s probably mean of Jaskier to think it, but he can’t help it. If he hadn’t saved Geralt’s daughter, they likely wouldn’t be in this situation.

But Jaskier won’t have it any other way. Daughter or not, Jaskier doesn’t regret saving Ciri. Not at all. He may only know the child for less than a month, but he already loves her like his own, and that notion should terrify Jaskier. It really should, but for some unfathomable reason, it feels completely natural. As easy as breathing.

Although he and Geralt still have so much to talk about - goodness, there’s so much baggage between them that needs to be unpacked and addressed - Jaskier finds that he doesn’t mind spending this time getting to know his soulmate’s family. Aside from Ciri, he’s already met Lambert and Eskel, Geralt’s foster brothers who also drop in to visit him a few times a week. Jaskier likes them, likes their crude sense of humor and enjoys their company even when he doesn’t feel like chatting.

Then there’s Vesemir, who happens to be Geralt’s uncle or whatever, and isn’t that a fucking shock? Jaskier initially didn’t know whether to be horrified or amused when the president of the university he works at visited him to wish him a speedy recovery. In the end, Jaskier takes it in stride and thanks the old man for his well wishes.

How has this become his life now? Will wonders never cease?

“- and Uncle Lambert said I should watch Monsters, Inc. next after The Emperor’s New Groove because he said I remind him of Boo,” Ciri continues to chatter, the adorable five-year-old making herself at home by Jaskier’s uninjured side.

Jaskier listens to her attentively, while looking up every now and then at Geralt, the Anthropology professor currently balancing his laptop on his knees as he slowly types.

It’s the sixth, or probably seventh, time that Jaskier looks up when he meets Geralt’s golden eyes already trained on him. There’s that familiar jolt that runs down his spine when their gazes meet, and Jaskier raises a brow at him.

Geralt’s lips quirk upwards into a semblance of a smile, and Jaskier feels his heart stutter against his chest when his soulmate quietly mouths, “Hi.”

Jaskier tries to fight off a smile but fails rather dismally.

“Hi,” he mouths back before shifting his attention back to Ciri, who’s now chattering about her morning at the daycare.

All at once, it feels like the end and beginning of something new.

~

“Gods, I miss playing my lute,” Jaskier grumbles to himself a few nights later.

Ciri is fast asleep beside him, the adorable child already drooling on his shoulder but he doesn’t mind it in the least bit. They watched two movies and had dinner plus dessert, so Jaskier feels a little spoiled.

“Your what now?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier nearly jolts Ciri awake, almost forgetting that there’s another occupant in the room.

He recovers quickly and leans back against the fluffy pillows.

“My lute,” he repeats. At Geralt’s blank stare, Jaskier huffs out a laugh and continues. “It’s a medieval instrument that bards used to play. I learned to play it back in uni - I minored in Music, by the way - and I just… I just love it. And I miss playing it.”

“Oh,” Geralt says after a while. “I never knew you played.”

If Jaskier’s smile comes off a little bitter, Geralt thankfully doesn’t mention it.

“We both don’t know a lot about each other, I’m afraid,” he says.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier snorts. “Well, except for that.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything after that, so they spend the next several minutes in silence. It’s comfortable, for a change, and Jaskier doesn’t mind breaking the quiet with inane chatter. While he enjoyed watching children’s movies with Ciri, he’s easily exhausted, still in the midst of recuperating from his extensive list of injuries. A major head concussion is no joke, but at least Jaskier can sleep peacefully these days.

He’s staring aimlessly at the ceiling and thinking about what he’ll do first when he’s eventually discharged when he hears Geralt clear his throat.

“I was afraid,” Geralt starts when Jaskier turns his head to meet the older man’s eyes. At Jaskier’s puzzled frown, Geralt clears his throat again and explains. “That day, when you told me we were soulmates… I panicked.”

Oh, so they’re finally going to talk about it now. While his soulmate’s daughter is lightly snoring and drooling on Jaskier?

Okay, then.

“That’s some way to panic,” Jaskier teases, but it falls a little flat. He notices Geralt wince, and Jaskier inwardly curses himself because it’s not the time to make jokes right now. “I’m sorry,” he quickly adds. “I didn’t mean it like that. Please continue, I won’t interrupt.”

Geralt blinks, looking surprised. Jaskier smiles at him and decides to wait patiently for him to speak. It doesn’t take long.

“I don’t have a good track record when it comes to relationships,” Geralt begins, his voice quiet and gruff so as not to wake his daughter. He’s not meeting Jaskier’s gaze. Instead, it’s trained on Jaskier’s fingers that’s carefully playing with Ciri’s blonde curls. “Ask my brothers, ask Yennefer, and they’ll gladly tell you of my failed relationships. Don’t know why, but I was more prone to burning bridges than maintaining them.”

Jaskier feels his heart break, and it takes every ounce in him to not reach out to take Geralt’s hand in his because he’s afraid the other man won’t welcome his touch. So Jaskier bites his cheek and keeps silent, and keeps his hands to himself. He continues to wait in silence, willing to be patient for Geralt because it’s clear to see now that his soulmate is struggling with his words.

And he knows better now, too, that Geralt needs this moment to unpack everything that’s been left unsaid between them all these years.

“When Ciri was born, I felt like I finally had purpose,” Geralt continues. “Her mother didn’t want anything to do with her, so Fiona left her in my care and never looked back. I was fine with it, didn’t mind taking on the responsibility of caring for Ciri. She’s my kid, after all, and it’s an honor to raise her. I thought, since I hadn’t met my soulmate at the time, that everything would be fine. And it was fine for a couple of years. Then I met you.”

At this, Geralt finally looks up from studying Jaskier’s deft fingers to meet his cornflower blue eyes. There’s that oh-so familiar jolt, and for the first time in three years, Jaskier allows himself to bask in the remarkable feeling.

“Then you met me,” Jaskier repeats with a small, sad smile. “And I went and made a fool of myself.”

Geralt emphatically shakes his head.

“No, you didn’t,” he says firmly. “I was an idiot.”

“No, I was the idiot.”

“Let’s agree to disagree, then.”

“In retrospect, I probably made things difficult for you,” Jaskier says with a half-shrug. “So I’m really sorry, Geralt. I think I was pretty tactless with my approach.”

Geralt smiles ruefully at him. “My reaction is what caused us to have a falling out.”

Jaskier opens his mouth then closes it with a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose,” he says, then he glances up from studying Ciri’s peaceful face to look at Geralt with a slight tilt of his head. “Why did you react that way, though? I thought… well, I thought you hated me. Hated the concept of soulmates.”

“I could never hate you,” Geralt cuts him off with a sincere look.

Jaskier gapes at him for a few seconds.

“I, well. You said--”

Geralt swiftly interrupts him once again.

“I remember,” he discloses with a grimace. “I’m not proud of it. I was selfish, Jaskier, and I’m sorry.”

“Alright,” Jaskier says with a patient smile. “You’re sorry, but for what? Telling me the truth? Rejecting me?”

His voice trails off when Geralt shakes his head.

“No, no. None of that.” At Jaskier’s puzzled frown, Geralt sighs and rubs the back of his head. “When I met you, I was terrified at how you made me feel. I felt… wrong-footed, I think? And when you told me we were soulmates, it just made the whole thing more… threatening.”

“Threatening how?”

“Ciri is my number one priority. Sure, she has Vesemir and her uncles, and Yennefer, but I’m her dad. My purpose, my… everything I do is for her, Jask, and you have to understand. Please understand, that when you told me we were soulmates, it felt like everything I worked so hard for would come crashing down. Because here was another person who… matters to me more than I could understand at the time. I was… scared… that if I acknowledged our bond, and accepted you, that it would make Ciri feel like I wasn’t prioritizing her. That she was no longer my number one.”

“Because then you’d have to focus all your time and energy on me,” Jaskier finishes, finally understanding where Geralt is coming from. “And on us. Because it takes a couple of months to solidify the bond.”

“Yes.”

Geralt nods, and he looks like there’s a huge weight that’s lifted from his shoulders. Like he’s been carrying this weight for the past three years or so.

Jaskier breathes in and slowly exhales through his nose. He, too, feels like there’s a huge weight that’s been lifted off his chest. Like he and Geralt are finally on the same page.

Well, almost.

“Geralt, I want you to listen to me closely because I’m going to say this once.”

Geralt nods, golden eyes intense as he waits for Jaskier to continue. This time, Jaskier takes a chance and reaches for his soulmates clasped hands. To his immense surprise, Geralt’s fingers curl around his, as if they’ve been doing it for years instead of for the first time.

“I will never fight for your attention, because Ciri will always be your number one. I’m confident in saying that because, believe it or not, I absolutely adore your daughter to bits.” They exchange smiles at that, each turning to look at Ciri sleeping peacefully between them. Jaskier clears his throat and continues. “I’m sorry that you felt like you had to choose between us. If that was the impression I gave you, then I beg for your forgiveness because it honestly wasn’t. I promise you, Geralt. I promise you that Ciri will also be my top priority.” He shakes his head when Geralt is about to open his mouth. “No. If we’re doing this, Geralt, then I want to be involved. I want to be a part of Ciri’s life, not just yours.”

“I can’t ask you of this, Jaskier,” Geralt professes.

“I know you’re not asking,” Jaskier says with a good-natured eye roll. “That’s why I’m offering, silly.”

Something in Geralt breaks because his shoulders sag. He stares unbelievably softly at Jaskier, golden eyes tender with emotion.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, awe in his tone.

Thinking that he literally has nothing left to lose, Jaskier moves his hand from grasping Geralt’s to cupping his cheek. He feels his soulmate lean into his touch, and Jaskier knows right then and there that they’re going to be alright.

“We both have baggage,” Jaskier tells him once their gazes lock once more. “And we still have so much to talk about. But I’m in this for the long haul, Geralt. You’re my other half, and I’m yours.”

“I’m yours,” Geralt repeats, and he sounds like he’s starting to believe it.

When he leans over to press soft, dry lips to Jaskier’s slightly chapped ones, Jaskier lets himself believe it, too.

They’re going to be alright.

#jaskierswolf #birthday fic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #professor jaskier #the witcher au #will cross-post on AO3 in a bit #my writing #dapperyklutz

[ceealaina]

Title: Crashing Through Your Door Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Pre-Iron Man 1, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining Card Number: 5023 (Tony Stark Bingo) 3002 (IronHusbands Bingo Square: R4 - Mutual Pining (Tony Stark Bingo) B4 - Fake Dating (IronHusbands Bingo) Link: AO3 Summary: To give himself a break, Tony's been using a made-up boyfriend to get out of meetings. He gets to stay home and tinker, the board things he's settling down, it's a win-win situation. Right up until Obie decides he wants to meet this boyfriend that's taking up so much of his time. 

But what kind of best friend would Rhodey be if he didn't step up to be Tony's fake boyfriend? Tony’s nothing short of relieved and so Rhodey dresses up to be his date to the gala-of-the-week except wow, pretending they’ve secretly been in love for the past year is way easier than it should be... Word Count: 9237

Rhodey jogged down the stairs of Tony’s shiny new Malibu “beach house” (the thing was ridiculously large if you asked him, but Tony hadn’t) and let himself into the workshop. “Honey, I’m home!” he called out, blinking when he was met with a dark room. “Tones? JARVIS said you were down here.” 

There was a faint groaning noise from the far corner, and when Rhodey turned the lights on, he found Tony sitting in a chair, slumped over his desk with his face buried in his arms. 

“Oh no,” Rhodey deadpanned, picking his way through bits of machinery to kick Tony’s foot. “What did you do now?” 

“I fucked up,” Tony moaned, the words muffled by his position. He lifted his head to peer at Rhodey, looking bleary in the face of sudden brightness. “Your concern for me is overwhelming, by the way. Really feeling the love here, Rhodes.” 

Rhodey shrugged, unperturbed. “Your world is ending like every other week, and I was promised pizza and beer -- which I even brought because I’m an amazing friend -- so… If you’re gonna have a breakdown can we at least do it where there’s food?” He gave Tony a broad grin and a wink, and Tony rolled his eyes, trying to hide his own fond smile as he pushed back from the table. 

“Yeah, alright, let’s go.” 

When they were upstairs and he could get a better look at him, Rhodey had to admit that Tony was looking a little more frazzled than usual. His hair was extra fluffy, like he’d run his hands through it about fifty times, and his fingers were tapping out a constant jittery rhythm against his thigh. Rhodey waited until they were settled in front of some action movie, but when Tony wasn’t forthcoming with any information, Rhodey nudged his side. “Hey. You gonna tell me what’s bugging you?”

Tony groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “You’re gonna make fun of me,” he whined.

Rhodey smiled, even if Tony couldn’t see it. “Probably,” he agreed easily. “Tell me anyway?” 

Tony huffed and pouted and squirmed but eventually he relented, shifting to sit sideways on the couch and face Rhodes. “Okay, so.” He sighed heavily. “You know, I’m head of SI now.”

“Really?” Rhodey drawled. “I hadn’t heard.” 

Tony elbowed him hard in the side. “So there’s all this… Stuff that goes along with that. Like I wasn’t looking forward to the board meetings, but at least I expected those? But there’s all these other meetings, like fifty a day were nothing actually gets done, and there are the charity events, and the gladhanding, and the ‘come meet a friend of a friend of a friend of mine,’ and I have to be on all the time and -- Obie wanted me to learn squash, Rhodey. Squash.” 

“Aww, come on. Bet you’d be cute in those little white shorts.” 

“I hate you.” Tony told him. “Anyway, it’s a lot, and sometimes I just want to take a break and go hang out in the lab and build stuff, you know?” 

“Do I know that you’d rather be a reclusive little lab gremlin? Yeah, I’d noticed that once or twice,” Rhodey teased. 

“Whatever.” Tony squirmed again, clearly embarrassed, and Rhodey waited. “So, you know, to get out of doing stuff when I just really, really wasn’t feeling it, I, uh… I maybe told Obie that I was seeing someone?” 

Rhodey blinked at him. “Oh no.”

Tony sighed heavily. “Oh yes.” 

He sounded so forlorn that Rhodey couldn’t help but laugh at him, only laughing harder when that made Tony whine and try to smother himself with a throw pillow. “Tones, I say this because I love you, but how is someone this smart this fucking stupid?” 

“I know, okay?” Tony wailed, accidentally throwing the pillow across the room as his arms flailed in emphasis. “I don’t know, it seemed like a great plan at first. It’s not like I was hurting anyone. The board even liked the idea that I was maybe settling down a little. So they’re relaxing a little, I get a night off… Everyone’s happy.” 

“Until it blew up in your face, like your hare-brained plans always do?” Rhodey guessed. 

“I resent that,” Tony told him. “JARVIS turned out fine. Didn’t you, J?” 

“I haven’t started taking over the world yet,” JARVIS agreed. “Although I do have several contingencies in place.” 

“Everyone’s conspiring against me,” Tony sighed, head tipping backwards to pout up at the ceiling. 

Rhodey laughed, poked him in his side. “So what went wrong? Now Obie wants to meet this amazing boyfriend of yours?” 

 “Insisted on it,” Tony agreed. “Wants me to bring him to the firefighter thing next week. I’m pretty sure he’s on to me. He’s probably trying to force me to confess. Humiliate me so I learn my lesson. So obviously, I can’t give in.” 

“Perish the thought,” Rhodey told him dryly, although really, he’d seen the effects of Obie’s brand of tough love. He couldn’t exactly blame Tony for not wanting to admit the truth, especially given how harmless the whole thing really was. God forbid Tony get a break every once in awhile. 

“I just don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Tony groaned, scrubbing his hand through his hair again, leaving it standing up in all directions. “I can’t tell him. I thought about faking a breakup, but Obie’s not dumb. I break up with my long-term boyfriend days before he’s supposed to finally meet him? I might as well just tell him in that case. So my only option would be to get someone to fake it, but there’s no way that doesn’t blow up in my face. It can’t be anyone from work, and I don’t really know anyone else. I guess I could hire an escort, but how would they learn everything they’d need to know in time? You know that Obie would try and get them to slip. Plus, it’s not like I can get legal to just write up an NDA here. With my luck I’d end up blackmailed or something…” 

Tony was working himself into an epic ramble, and Rhodey nodded along before shrugging. “Or I could just do it.” 

Tony had already been off on another tangent, but as Rhodey’s voice caught up to him he stopped mid-word, staring at him. “I -- what?” he asked and Rhodey could already see his mind working overtime, trying to parse out what he was saying. 

He laughed. “Or I could just do it,” he repeated. “Come on, dude. I already know everything about you, so I’m not gonna slip. And let’s face it, if I was gonna blackmail you, I would have done it ages ago. We went to college together, I’ve got way better shit than a fake boyfriend.” He nodded as he thought through the logistics. “Yeah, this’ll totally work.”

Tony blinked at him. “Really? Really. You think so. You have met Obie, right? No way he’s buying that. He’d be all, ‘Tony m’boy. I’ve known Jim since you first brought him home for Thanksgiving. You expect me to believe he’s this secret boyfriend of yours? No reason to hide that away!’”

Rhodey snorted; Tony’s Obidiah impression was a little too spot on. “Yeah, like he wouldn’t have had a shit fit if he thought we actually were dating. All the more reason to tell him it’s me. We’ll make him squirm a little. And, I don’t know. Just tell him because it was new, and a change in our relationship, we wanted to keep it under wraps. Have some time to ourselves, get a feel for what this meant…”

Tony scratched the side of his nose. “You’re weirdly smart sometimes, you know that?” he asked, which wasn’t exactly a no. 

“The same excuse will work when we ‘break up’ later. Just tell him that now that we’re in the public eye, we’ve realized we’re better off as friends. No hard feelings, no big drama, no ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ just… Friends.”

“I…” Tony considered this, closed his mouth, blinked, and opened it again. “But…” He closed his mouth again and then sank back into the cushions. “You really think it’ll work?” 

Rhodey laughed. “Have I ever let you down?” 

“Constantly,” Tony replied immediately, but he was grinning. “Shit. I mean… You make some good points.” He drew a deep breath, mind still running over all the outcomes, and then nodded, a smile growing over his face as he got onboard. “Yeah, okay. I think this’ll work.” 

***

One week later, Rhodey was meeting up with Tony in an all-night coffee shop a couple blocks away from the gala, like some kind of Cold War spy fantasy. Apparently Obie had been planning to hang around Tony’s place beforehand, and Tony thought things would run more smoothly if they ‘introduced’ Rhodey at the gala, where there would be lots of wealthy investors to distract him. 

There was a little bell over the door that chimed when Rhodey stepped in, and immediately he saw Tony’s head snap up from a table at the far end of the shop. “Rhodey! Hey!” he said, bouncing with nerves like this was an actual first date and not his best friend. Rhodey arched an eyebrow as he reached the table and spotted the two mugs of coffee. 

“You sure you need those?” he asked, grinning to try and set Tony at ease. “You already seem jittery enough for the two of us.” 

“One of them’s for you,” Tony grumbled. “Leave me alone, I’m kind of stressed right now.” 

“I don’t think coffee’s gonna help, man. You look like you’re gonna bounce through the roof.”

“I hate you,” Tony informed him, huffing as he folded his arms across his chest and hunched over in his chair. “You’re doing a terrible job so far, by the way. I thought the deal was you’d pretend to be besotted with me, not tell me how dumb I look.” 

“You do look dumb,” Rhodey told him. “That’s what I like about you.” Then, when that finally got a hint of a smile on Tony’s face, “You want me to do besotted? I can do besotted.” He made a show of looking Tony up and down, eyes lingering over his chest and arms and the peak of thigh that he could see slipping under the table before sliding back up to make eye contact again. He tilted his head a little, letting a slow smile spread over his face as he glanced at Tony from under his eyelashes. “You look good tonight, Tones,” he purred, letting his voice drop down to his flirting voice, low and velvety. Then he grinned wide, shifting his voice back to normal. “That besotted enough for you?:

“Uh.” Tony blinked at him and swallowed hard, before shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s… Good. Great. Yeah.” He jumped to his feet then, not seeming to notice the untouched coffees. “We should go.” 

There was the usual flurry of paparazzi outside the event, but Rhodey had been to enough of these events that his appearance wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He knew this was more for SI than the media (the last thing Tony would need was a bunch of reporters hounding him about his breakup later) but he figured it couldn’t hurt to start selling it on the way in. Tony jumped a little when Rhodey’s hand settled on the small of his back, even though they shared casual touches about a million times a day, but he looked over at Rhodey with a small smile as he steered him past the cameras and the questions and into the building. 

“Hey,” Rhodey leaned in close so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You really do look good tonight, man. That suit suits you.” 

Tony snorted at that, but he seemed to relax a little too. “Wow, Rhodes,” he drawled. “Such a way with words.” He laughed though, and his eyes were sparkling and pleased. Then he shoved Rhodey and Rhodey shoved him back and they made their way down the hotel hall like that, laughing as their shoulders bumped together. 

As soon as they stepped inside the ballroom though, Tony stopped. Rhodey’s hand had resettled on his back and Rhodey could feel him tense as he spotted Obie, standing across the room and chatting up a bunch of rich-looking men in expensive suits. 

“Deep breaths, Tones,” Rhodey told him, shifting his hand slightly in a barely-there rub of Tony’s back. Tony glanced at him again, but his smile was tight now, eyes pinched at the corners. 

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” he muttered -- but he did take a deep breath. 

When they joined the group it took a minute before Obie spared them a glance (though Rhodey had no doubt that he knew they were there and was just pulling yet another Obadiah power move). When he spotted Rhodey, his expression shifted, souring slightly before settling into something almost smug. He excused himself with a jovial smile, walking in the direction of the bar without waiting to see if Rhodey and Tony were following him. Rhodey heard Tony sigh softly, and he gave his forearm a quick squeeze.

Obie came to a stop, looking back and forth between them like they were misbehaving children, and finally settled his gaze on Tony, arching an eyebrow. “What’s this? I thought you were going to bring your boyfriend, Tony. Hmm? We had an agreement.” 

Personally, Rhodey thought that an ‘agreement’ was an odd way to refer to meeting your godson’s significant other for the first time. 

Beside him, Tony shifted nervously. “I, uh… I did.” 

Obie blinked and made a show of looking around the room. “And where is he, then?”

“Um, well. I… I mean…” 

Obie cut Tony off with a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “Tony, we’ve discussed this. You’re too old to be pulling this kind of nonsense. You’ve got responsibilities, you can’t just run around doing whatever you want. If the board --,” 

“It’s Rhodey!” Tony blurted out suddenly, eyes wide. He grabbed Rhodey’s hand half a beat later, tangling their fingers together as he held Rhodey’s hand up for proof. Rhodey gave his hand a quick squeeze in return. “Surprise?” 

Obie stared back at them, actually looking taken aback for once. “You’re kidding,” he said flatly. But Rhodey could tell that Tony’s nervousness was actually working in his favour, that Obie wasn’t quite sure that it wasn’t true. 

“Nope,” Rhodey told him, meeting Obie’s gaze head on before turning back to Tony with the softest smile he could manage. It wasn’t too difficult with Tony looking as nervous as he did, and the sweet little smile that Tony gave him in return looked a lot more real than it had before. “You know how it goes,” he added. “We were just hanging out late one night, playing video games, everything normal. And I just looked at Tony and thought, ‘wow, I have to kiss that man.’ So I did and it was everything I didn’t know I’d been missing.” He rubbed his thumb over Tony’s hand, obvious enough that Obie would track the movement. “I guess it’s been simmering for awhile, you know? Just didn’t realize it until right then.” 

Apparently Rhodey had his smitten face down pat because Obie’s posture eased slightly, though he still looked somewhat suspicious. “Alright,” he said finally. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

He didn’t sound particularly congratulatory. 

“Behave yourself, boys,” he told them before abandoning them in favour of a potential investor across the room. 

Immediately, Tony sagged against Rhodey, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. “Oh god,” he groaned, head falling against Rhodey’s shoulder. “I need like seventeen drinks. Jesus Christ.” 

Rhodey huffed out a laugh. “Come on, sugartits. I’ll buy you a drink. I know how to take care of my man.”

“It’s an open bar, asshole,” Tony protested, but he let Rhodey tug him over to the counter. “Also, I object to ‘sugartits’ being my nickname, what the fuck?” 

“Hey man, I’m just trying to sell the bit.” 

“Seriously though. Sugarass maybe, cause, I mean, look at me. But sugartits? Come on Rhodes, do better.” 

Rhodey snorted, automatically placing Tony’s drink order along with his own. “Just think of it as payback for all the dumbass nicknames you’ve given me over the years,” he offered. 

“But those come from a place of love!” Tony insisted, laughing at Rhodey’s eyeroll. 

“Sure, Tones. Whatever you say.”  He turned to pass Tony his drink and found him watching him with a look on his eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “What? Something on my face?” 

“No,” Tony told him. “I just… I like the story you made up there. About how we got together? That was… Nice.” Then he shifted, clearing his throat. “A nice touch, I mean. I think you really sold it. Anyway! I think they’re bringing out dinner soon. Should we go sit?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Rhodey said, a little nonplussed; Tony seemed even more frenetic than usual. “Let’s go.” 

**

Dinner could have gone better. Tony was jumpy and twitchy, hyper focused on his food and constantly losing track of the conversation. Rhodey knew it was nerves, but that didn’t mean much when the board members they were seated with kept giving them odd looks and Obie’s expression was growing more and more suspicious. 

They were waiting for dessert when Tony’s arm twitched and caught his (thankfully mostly empty) wine glass, sending it wobbling precariously on the tablecloth. Rhodey’s hand snapped out automatically, catching it before it could fall and ruin the tablecloth along with everyone's fancy clothes. And then, because Tony was going to blow his own cover before the dancing even started, he curled his hand over Tony’s on the table, threading their fingers together. Tony turned and blinked at him, and Rhodey gave his hand a quick squeeze but didn’t let go. He grinned at him and a beat later Tony was grinning back, tension easing out of his body. 

They’d decided beforehand that they’d keep it simple, no PDA or soppy love declarations, wanting to be believable. But Rhodey figured that it wouldn’t hurt to turn up the romance a little, so he kept hold of Tony’s hand, only letting go when dessert was served and Tony needed his hand back to eat. 

They’d both chosen different dessert options, and Tony’s French chocolate-whatever looked absolutely delicious. Rhodey eyed it, consideringly, and after a few bites of his own dessert, he leaned over and stole a not-insignificant piece of Tony’s. The absolutely scandalized look that Tony gave him had him laughing, nearly choking on his bite -- which was just as delicious as it had looked. 

“What?” he asked, giving Tony a sugar-sweet smile in return. 

“That’s my dessert!” he protested. “You’ve got your own.” He gestured wildly at Rhodey’s plate with his fork, and Rhodey just shrugged back at him. 

“Perks of dating,” he told him, leaning in close and dropping his voice. “Sugarass,” he added, getting a snicker out of Tony in response. 

“You’re an idiot,” he grumbled, and then snatched a bite of Rhodey’s dessert in return. 

“Hey,” Rhodey protested right back at him, slapping at Tony’s fork with his own. Tony huffed at him, slapped his fork in return, and a beat later they were in a mini fork battle. Out of the corner of his eye Rhodey could see Obie glaring at the two of them, looking utterly unimpressed, but it was worth it for the way Tony was laughing, finally looking at ease. Rhodey’d always thought that Tony had a great laugh, so anything he could do to make it happen was a win in his book. 

Obie lasted until the instant the music started up for the dancing and then he was gripping Tony’s arm, pulling him to his feet with just a little more force than necessary. “Tony. I have some contacts for you to meet. I told them you’d be here, and they’d be a real asset to SI, so…” He trailed off, leaving whatever his implication was supposed to be hanging, and Tony turned his head enough to give Rhodey a truly epic eye roll. 

“Alright,” he sighed, not even pretending that he wasn’t completely put out by the idea. Rhodey winked back at him, and the pinched look around Obie’s lip tightened. 

“I trust you can occupy yourself for a few minutes,” he added, giving Rhodey a pointed eyebrow raise. 

Rhodey gave Obie a bland look in return. “Yup. I’ll manage,” he drawled, barely getting the words out before Obie was dragging Tony away. Tony shot him a pained look over his shoulder and Rhodey offered a commiserating eye roll. 

These events were always truly boring when Tony wasn’t around to occupy his attention. Rhodey polished off his own dessert and then finished the last few bites of Tony’s just for good measure -- he could consider it payment in kind for the entire night. Then, when the rest of their table had cleared out, he grabbed a drink and made the rounds, chatting with the few SI employees that he knew, getting hauled into conversations with a few people that he didn’t. He’d fended off no less than three horny old ladies (they were always a sucker for the military dress uniform) when he decided it had probably been long enough that he could rescue Tony again. 

He found him sitting at an empty table, nursing a half full glass of scotch and looking absolutely drained. Rhodey sighed briefly and then moved over to join him, taking the seat beside Tony and nudging his foot against his ankle. “You alright?” 

Tony looked up quickly, giving him a smile that was just a little too bright. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just… You know…” 

He didn’t have to specify what, but Rhodey nodded anyway. Then he pried the glass out of Tony’s hand, setting it on the table, and tangled their fingers instead. “Come on,” he said, standing up.

Tony resisted him a little just because, leaning back in his seat and arching an eyebrow up at Rhodey. “Where are we going?” 

Rhodey winked at him. “Come on, now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t ask you for at least one dance, huh?” 

Tony smiled all soft and sweet, like he could hide how happy that made him. “Yeah, alright,” he agreed, slowly getting to his feet with his hand still tangled in Rhodey’s. “Let’s dance.” 

There was a brief moment of confusion when they landed on the dance floor, and Tony, who had apparently never been led before (which was something of a tragedy, if you asked Rhodey) wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. But Tony wasn’t the only one who could dance, thank you very much, so Rhodey got him settled and led him over the dance floor in a fast-paced waltz. Their form was terrible, Rhodey was pretty sure, but he didn’t particularly care when Tony was beaming, giggling into his shoulder when they nearly took out an older couple on their way by. 

They made it through two and a half songs before the music shifted into something slower and softer. Tony tensed for a bare second, but Rhodey didn’t let him go, just tightened his arm around Tony’s waist, and a beat later he was sinking into it, relaxing in Rhodey’s arms. 

“Thank you for this,” Tony said softly, eyes somewhere around Rhodey’s collarbone. “This is… This is nice.”

Rhodey just hummed and pulled Tony in a little closer. “Yeah,” he agreed, something warm and familiar settling in his stomach. “Yeah, it is.” 

There was another beat and then Tony shifted and leaned in, resting his cheek against Rhodey’s shoulder as the two of them swayed slowly to the beat of the music. The warm feeling in Rhodey’s stomach grew, something familiar and comfortable settling deep inside him. Tony sighed softly, breath fluttering against the base of Rhodey’s neck, and Rhodey felt his heart stop. 

Oh shit. He was in love with his best friend. 

Tony must have felt him tense slightly because he pulled back to look up at him. “This alright?” he asked quietly, and there was something in his eyes, something nervous and wanting. 

Just like that Rhodey felt his heart start up again, comfortable and easy and exactly how everything was supposed to me. “Yeah,” he said, pulling Tony in closer still until they were pressed chest to chest. “This is just fine.” 

***

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinking and dancing and schmoozing and more drinking, and every time Rhodey looked over at Tony he could feel his smile growing wider. Now that he’d realized, it seemed so obvious; of course he was in love with Tony. He had been for years. He’d always known he’d felt different about Tony, that he was special. He just hadn’t been able to put a finger on exactly how before. And now that he had, everything felt right. 

And he was pretty sure that he wasn’t alone in his feelings. He knew what Tony looked like with a crush, the little smiles, the nervous giggles, the way he got so sweet. Rhodey had just never expected to see those signs directed at him, so he figured he could be forgiven for missing them until now. But now that he had seen it, he was going to take full advantage. 

When the night was over the two of them slipped outside, arms wrapped around each other. Rhodey hadn’t realized just how drunk he was until he hit the fresh air, stumbling a little down the steps, and he let Tony pour him into the car they were sharing home. There was no actual  reason for them to go back to the same place so Happy would drop Rhodey off at his apartment first, and he couldn’t help being a little disappointed about that. He thought about suggesting that they both go back to Tony’s place anyway, in case Obie decided to check up on them maybe, but coming up with a valid reason felt like too much effort. Instead he looked over at Tony and grinned wide. 

“What?” Tony asked, laughing a little at Rhodey’s expression. Clearly he hadn’t drunk as much as him, or at least he was handling it better if he had. 

Rhodey just shook his head. “I’m gonna date you so hard,” he declared. 

***

When Rhodey woke up the next morning, it was with a wicked hangover. But after a hot shower, greasy food, and a few hours of mindless television, he had a plan. Really, Tony had given him the perfect opening with all this fake boyfriend stuff. Rhodey just had to… Take it up a notch or two. 

So once he was feeling a little more human again, he called Tony. It took a few rings for him to pick up, and when he finally did there was loud music blaring in the background that had Rhodey smiling.  

“Hey baby,” he drawled into the receiver, grinning when that got a snort out of Tony. 

“Obie’s not tapping the phones,” he told him. “You don’t have to keep playing boyfriend when he’s not around.” 

“Well see, there’s the thing,” Rhodey told him. “I figure we can’t ‘break up’ right away, otherwise Obie’s gonna know the whole thing was a fake and then what would the point have even been, right?” 

“Okay…” 

“Okay,” Rhodey agreed. “And I should probably go to a few more events with you too. Now that he knows, he’s gonna be even more suspicious if I just keep leaving you to attend things solo, right?” 

“I guess,” Tony agreed, sounding more confused than anything.

“Exactly,” Rhodey told him. “So I was thinking, if we’re gonna pull off something a little more long term, especially now that he’ll be over the surprise of it, we should probably get together and practice.” 

“Practice,” Tony repeated, sounding even more confused. “You want to practice being my boyfriend?” 

“Well, you know…” Rhodey hedged, because yes, that was exactly what he wanted, but he didn’t want to give all his cards away here. “Figure out pet names, and who sleeps on what side of the bed. Stuff like that.” 

“Are you still drunk?” Tony’s confusion had given way to amusement. “You think Obie’s gonna ask what side of the bed we sleep on?” 

“Well, no,” Rhodey admitted. “But somebody else might, and he could overhear it. We should just be prepared, is all.” 

Tony hummed on the other end of the line. “You know, if you wanted to hang out and have me buy your pizza, you just had to say so.” 

“You’re an asshole, Tones. I’m helping you, remember.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” There was a faint clatter from somewhere across the room, and Tony huffed out a laugh, low and warm. “I’ll be in the lab, come over whenever.” 

***

Rhodey showed up at Tony’s place a couple hours later, wielding the t-shirt that hugged his biceps just right and a bouquet of flowers. The doors opened for him automatically, but when he made his way down to the lab Tony was distracted by whatever he was working on and didn’t even hear him come in. Rhodey leaned against a table and waited, and when Tony showed no signs of even looking up, he finally cleared his throat. 

“So are we gonna hang out, or should I go away and give you and your screwdriver some alone time?” 

Tony turned then, a grin on his face, but whatever response he’d been going to give died as he took in the flowers in Rhodey’s hand. “Uhh…” He arched an eyebrow and met Rhodey’s eyes. “Did you bring me flowers?” 

Rhodey shrugged lazily, holding the bouquet out towards him. “I told you. Practice.” 

Tony blinked at him, a pleased little smile playing over his lips. “You’re weird,” he said, but he took the flowers and held them up to his nose, inhaling deeply even though they were just grocery store daisies and didn’t have much of a scent at all. 

Rhodey shrugged, and gave him that slow, easy grin that was his go-to pick up move (and that he’d practiced in the mirror before, not that he’d admit it). He held eye contact until Tony blinked away first, clearing his throat and squirming a little at the attention -- a definite good squirm. 

“Um, thanks,” Tony told him. “I’m gonna…” He trailed off, waggling the flowers a little, and headed for the stairs. “You thirsty? Hungry?” 

“I could eat,” Rhodey admitted. 

Tony nodded as he headed up the stairs, not waiting to see if Rhodey was following. “Wanna order in?” 

“Obviously,” Rhodey teased. “I’ve seen your kitchen. Pretty sure there’s been nothing edible in there for weeks.” 

“Wow, rude.” Tony’s protest was half-hearted and he shot a grin at Rhodey over his shoulder. “But probably not wrong. I should hire a life coach, or an assistant maybe.” 

“I thought that was JARVIS’s job.” 

“Alas,” JARVIS sighed. “I can only order the food, I have not yet developed the ability to get Sir to eat it.” 

“Okay,” Tony protested. “Now you’re both ganging up on me? So rude.”

Since he didn’t want to freak Tony out, Rhodey dialed it back down once they were in the kitchen, and Tony had tracked down a crystal pitcher that probably cost more than Rhodey’s rent to shove his grocery store flowers into. They bickered good-naturedly over the food like always, finally settling on Thai, and then Tony showed him the latest mods to his current favourite car while they waited for the food to arrive. Tony tipped the delivery guy an amount that took generous to a whole other level (something Obie constantly gave him shit for, but Rhodey happened to love about him) and then they settled in front of the enormous television to bicker some more over what movie they were going to watch. A normal, perfect evening.

He waited until they were both full and satisfied, the half full containers of leftovers littering the coffee table in front of them, and Tony was fully absorbed in the movie they’d finally settled on (Ghostbusters, again). Then, as subtly as he could manage and feeling a little like he was fourteen, Rhodey sank back into the overstuffed cushions and then stretched his arm out to hook over Tony’s shoulder. 

There was a beat, and while Tony didn’t quite tense up, he did go still. “Um.” 

When Rhodey chanced a glance over at Tony, he was looking back at him. His lips were pressed together,  but he looked amused again. 

“Whatcha doin?” 

Rhodey shrugged, and since Tony wasn’t giving any indication of being uncomfortable, he tightened his arm slightly, pulling him in against him a little. “Practice.”

 There was another beat and then Tony seemed to shrug as well, settling more comfortably against him, head pillowed against Rhodey’s shoulder as he went back to the movie. 

***

“H’lo?” 

Rhodey’s voice was slurred as he answered the phone, squinting at his alarm clock. It took a minute for his blurry eyes to reconcile the display into actual numbers: 4:38 am.

“It’s me.” 

Tony’s voice sounded off slightly, softer, and Rhodey blinked a few times, trying to force himself into wakefulness. “Tones? You okay?” 

“Yeah!” Tony answered quickly, laughing a little. “Yeah, I’m fine. Promise.” 

Rhodey looked over at the clock again, suspicious now. “You just going to bed?” 

“Maybe?” Tony laughed again, and Rhodey could hear the genuine smile in his voice. “Sorry, I should have waited to call, I know. I just… I had to ask you a favour, and it’s really late notice already so even though it’ll probably be no, I thought if I don’t ask now then it’ll really be too late. And I meant to ask you before, I just… Didn’t.” 

“Tones.” Rhodey was laughing as he interrupted, rubbing at his eyes. “What is it?” 

“I, um… There’s another event tonight. Some charity something or other that I have to go to, and Obie’s been making comments about you, I don’t know if he really totally believes me, so uh…” There was a strange note in Tony’s voice, one that Rhodey was too tired to decipher. “I don’t suppose you want to come with me?” 

Rhodey grinned up at the ceiling, letting his eyes fall shut. “Yeah,” he hummed. “Course I’ll be your date tonight.” 

***

What with their conflicting, hectic schedules, Rhodey hadn’t actually seen Tony since the day after the gala, almost two weeks ago now. It was always good to see him when they’d been apart for awhile, but this time was even better, Rhodey taking an extra minute to take in the cut of Tony’s suit, the perfect way it fit when he showed up to pick him up. 

“You look good, man,” he told him. 

Tony rolled his eyes a little at the compliment, but when they got into the car, Rhodey could see the reflection of his pleased smile in the windshield. 

The gala could have been a repeat of the one before, the same people, the same food, the same tasteful, boring decorating scheme. This time, however, Obie was near the door when they came in, excused himself with a slight frown to meet them. 

“Tony,” he said in lieu of an actual greeting, looking him over with a critical assessing eye that made Rhodey want to tell Tony again just how good he looked -- doubly so when he noted the tiny little self-conscious ankle twist that Tony let slip under his godfather’s inspection. “Jim,” he added when Tony had apparently passed muster, turning to him with an arched eyebrow. “Tony didn’t tell me you were joining him tonight.” 

“Yes I did,” Tony grumbled mutinously, making Rhodey grin. 

They made it through the obligatory Obie small talk without Rhodey punching anything, and once he’d gone off to schmooze some more rich people, Rhodey elbowed Tony in the side. “I thought you said Obie was asking questions,” he teased. “I thought that was why you wanted me to be your date tonight.” 

“Shut up,” Tony grumbled, and Rhodey thought he could see a flush trailing up the back of his neck. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink. Since you’re so hung up on being my date.” 

“It’s an open bar,” Rhodey huffed as he followed him, not caring that it was a repeat of Tony’s joke from the last time. “The drinks are free!” 

Tony grinned at him over his shoulder. “Guess that makes you a cheap date then, huh?” 

Rhodey managed to talk Tony into three slow dances this time, holding him close because he had to sell it, obviously. The flutter of Tony’s breath on his neck sent shivers through him every time, and by the end of the third dance, Rhodey was feeling a little drunk from it. Tony seemed more comfortable this time too, laughing and smiling at Rhodey more than usual, fluttering his eyelashes and playing up the boyfriend aspect, and the weight of all his attention and affection left Rhodey reeling. 

They had both drunk enough that, when the night started to wind down, Rhodey convinced Tony not to drive home. It was hot, the two of them flushed from dancing and drinking, and they headed outside to wait for the car he’d called. The air wasn’t much cooler outside, but it was a rare, misty night, and Tony turned his face up to the rain, eyes closed and a faint smile on his face at the refreshing sensation. Rhodey watched him, and wanted so badly to kiss him that he could almost taste it. He hadn’t yet, and while he probably could have pulled it off as part of the whole fake boyfriend thing, that felt like cheating somehow. He wanted Tony to kiss him, not some fake ruse version of himself. 

“Um…” Tony had looked back over at him, and Rhodey realized he had been caught staring. “You doing okay there, honeybear?” 

“Yeah.” Rhodey grinned at him, aware that his face was doing something a little dopey but not particularly caring. “Just tired.” 

“Well let’s get you to bed then, huh?” Tony asked before giggling as the innuendo caught up to him. “I mean home. To your bed. I mean…” He cut himself with a snort. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Rhodey agreed easily. 

Tony beamed at him and then nudged his arm. “Come on,” he said, wrapping a hand around Rhodey’s wrist almost without noticing. “That’s our car.” 

Rhodey grinned at the touch, even if he couldn’t help regretting that the night was over. “Hey Tony?” he asked as the two of them slid into the backseat of the car. “Want to grab lunch tomorrow?” 

***

Tomorrow ended up being three days later, because the both of them were entirely too busy, but that was nothing new. Tony was already waiting when Rhodey got there, doodling equations on a napkin, and he grinned at the sight of him. 

“Whatcha working on?” he asked, dropping into the seat opposite him. “Saving the world?” 

“Something like that.” Tony winked at him and then nodded as a server came out from the kitchen, balancing a tray laden down with burgers and beer. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding it at all. “I was starving and didn’t want to wait for you to get here, so I ordered for you.”

“So impatient,” Rhodey teased, kicking his ankle under the table. 

“Hey! It seemed nicer than making you sit there and watch me eat.” Tony stuck his tongue out at him as their plates were unloaded, immediately digging headfirst into his fries. Rhodey snorted as he reached for his own burger, grinning when he found it onion-free with extra pickles, just the way he liked it. 

“Thanks, man.”

The food was delicious, and Rhodey hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he was digging in. Tony had ordered a massive amount of fries for both of them, but Rhodey couldn’t resist stealing some of Tony’s anyway. Of course then Tony had to retaliate by stealing Rhodey’s entire beer (before immediately ordering him another one). 

When they’d finished the majority of their food, they settled into talking and picking at their leftover fries. Neither of them was quite ready to leave yet, pretending they were still eating so they’d have an excuse to keep talking. Tony was in the middle of describing an idea he’d had to make cell phones better, eyes all wide and bright the way they got when he was really excited about something, and Rhodey couldn’t resist reaching across the table, curling his hands over Tony’s where it was resting against the laminate. Tony stuttered a little over his explanation, coming to a stop as he looked up at Rhodey with a small smile. 

“Practice?” 

Rhodey nodded, beaming at him. “Practice,” he agreed, feeling Tony’s hand squeeze briefly against his. 

***

They kept on like this, and although Tony didn’t make any moves himself, he didn’t seem to mind Rhodey moving on him, and Rhodey was pretty sure he was making progress. He seemed to expect the hand holding now, looked forward to it, even. He didn’t question Rhodey about it anymore, would just teasingly ask, “practice?” as their fingers twined together. The last time they’d been out for dinner, Tony’s hand had settled palm up on the table without him even seeming to realize, waiting for Rhodey to take it. 

They cuddled all the time now too, and while Tony had always been touchy feely, this felt like more. As soon as they had a chance to sit down together for more than a few minutes, Rhodey would wrap an arm around Tony’s shoulder and immediately he’d settle in against him with a soft little sigh like this was exactly where he belonged. It never failed to set something pleasant thrumming through every inch of Rhodey’s body. 

And while Tony had never been shy with the pet names, Rhodey had started adding his own. Nothing over the top, just slipping a ‘baby’ or a ‘sweetheart’ into conversation here or there. The first time he’d done it, not as a joke but as easy and natural as he said Tony’s name, Tony had actually stammered over whatever he’d been saying, an adorable flush colouring his cheeks before he regained his train of thought. He’d looked so ridiculously kissable in that moment that it was all Rhodey could do to stop himself. 

Progress. 

***

Rhodey slung an arm around Tony’s waist as they headed into yet another charity event. This one was more lowkey than normal, which Rhodey definitely wasn’t complaining about. Tony looked amazing in his jeans-and-leather-jacket combo, and Rhodey had never been happier to ‘pretend’ to be dating because there was now way he was going to be able to tear his eyes off Tony’s ass. 

They made it through a round of drinks before Rhodey realized something was missing, eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the other attendants. “Hey Tones?”

“Mmm?”

“Where’s Obie? Don’t you usually want to get that over with first thing?” 

“Oh, uh…” Tony looked away quickly, acting like he was also scanning the room, but Rhodey knew him well enough to tell when he was faking it to avoid eye contact. “He must be running late.” 

“Late,” Rhodey repeated dryly, not believing a word of it. “That’s more your scene, last I checked. In fact, I’ve never known Obidiah Stane to be more than a second late in his life. He’s a stickler for it, it’s kinda his whole deal.” 

“Oh well, you know.” Tony shrugged, still not quite meeting Rhodey’s eyes, but there was a hint of a sheepish smile curling over his lips. “Things happen, traffic in LA, freak storms… There’s a first time for everything, right?” 

Rhodey snorted. “Is he even coming?” 

“Uh, you know…” Tony scratched at the back of his neck, and now there was a definite smile on his lips. “Maybe I got this event confused with another one?” 

“I don’t believe it!” Rhodey crowed. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Oh no, don’t you ‘oh my god’ me. I specifically remember you telling me that Obie insisted that I come tonight. Obie’s not even here, Tony.” He gave him his best grin then. “You know, if you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, but he was grinning a little stupidly like he couldn’t help himself. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he insisted before curling his hand around Rhodey’s forearm and tugging. “Come on, Rhodes, dance with me.”

“Ohhh,” Rhodey teased, although he was already moving toward the dance floor, his arm back around Tony’s waist. “So now you want a dance.” 

“People will talk,” Tony offered lamely, still fighting back a smile. “Wonder what kind of asshole I’m dating if he won’t even give me a dance.” 

“Oh right, of course.” Despite his teasing, Rhodey didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around Tony, drawing him close for a dance. This time Tony didn’t even pause, drawing in just as close until they were pressed chest to chest, Tony’s breath hot on his neck. Rhodey adjusted his hold, shifting them until his lips were almost pressed against Tony’s ear. “Well,” he offered, voice pitched low and smooth. “If Obie’s not even here, you wanna slip out early? Go back to my place, maybe, watch a movie?” 

Tony shivered as Rhodey’s breath tickled his ear. “Yeah,” he agreed, sounding out of breath. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

***

Tony was uncharacteristically quiet in the car, peering out the window and lost in thought. He didn’t seem upset though, and when Rhodey finally caught his gaze in the window reflection, he gave him a bright smile. A beat later he slid a little closer on the bench seat, even though the cab driver hadn’t even recognized Tony and certainly wouldn’t have cared if they were supposed to be dating or not. 

The stillness went away as soon as they stepped through the door of Rhodey’s apartment, his typical manic energy coming back tenfold. He threw himself down on the couch like he belonged there before immediately getting up again. He went to peruse Rhodey’s movie shelf about five different times, every time getting distracted by nothing, opening cupboards and drawers and wandering away without closing them again and while rambling on about nothing the entire time. Rhodey watched him in amusement for a few minutes before coming over as he moved to open yet another drawer, curling his hands over Tony’s and holding them still. 

“You good, man?” 

Tony went silent, staring at him for a long minute, and then nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said before blinking and turning abruptly toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry,” he announced. “Are you hungry? I want cupcakes. Chocolate cupcakes. Do you think there’s somewhere around here that will deliver chocolate cupcakes? Who has the best chocolate cupcakes in LA?” 

Rhodey snorted and shook his head. “Pretty sure all the bakeries are closed by now, but I’ve got some Duncan Hines cake mix in my cupboard somewhere. Will that do?” 

Tony grinned at him, a little sheepish. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That sounds good.” 

The cake mix, it turned out, was easy to find, right next to the muffin tins. The electric beater his mother had gifted him, however, was a whole other story. Rhodey set Tony to work measuring out the additional ingredients while he went rooting through the cupboard under his sink, finally emerging with dust in his hair and a triumphant, ‘ah-ha!’

Tony huffed out a laugh at the sight of him, his smile fond. He’d pulled off his suit jacket, leaving it draped haphazardly over a kitchen chair, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Rhodey got distracted for a moment, staring at the muscles in his forearms, and then shook himself out of it, nudging Tony away from the mixing bowl with his hip. 

“Move over, hot stuff. Time to let the master work.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s cake mix, it’s pretty hard to fuck it up. You’re not special,” he grumbled. He was grinning though and hopped up on the counter, kicking his legs against the cupboards beneath him while Rhodey mixed and then poured out the batter.

With the muffin tins safely in the oven Rhodey stepped back over, giving Tony a kick of his own before he lost his security deposit. “Knock it off,” he told him, unfastening the beaters from the mixer and extending one to Tony. “Want one?” 

“Fuck yeah!” Tony beamed, making grabby hands. “Pass it over, honeybear.” 

Rhodey did as requested, stepping closer so the batter didn’t drip on the floor, and Tony took it with a contented little noise. Rhodey laughed at him, and then almost immediately forgot about his own beater as Tony started licking at the chocolate, head tilting to get just the right angle, tongue wiggling between the metal spokes. Rhodey had not thought this through. 

He didn’t know if he’d made a noise or what, but then Tony’s eyes flicked up to meet his. He lowered the beater slowly, eyes locked with Rhodey’s. Without quite meaning to, Rhodey took a step closer, heard Tony’s soft inhale in response, his tongue running self consciously over his lower lip. There was a fleck of chocolate there, and it took everything Rhodey had not to lick it off for him. He wanted to kiss him so badly, but something inside him stopped. He needed Tony to be the one to make that final move, needed to know that they were on the same page here, that Tony wanted this too, wasn’t just playing along with the world’s worst joke. 

And for a minute he thought Tony actually might. His lips parted on a soft exhale, upper body leaning in that much closer, this look on his face, like he wanted to just as bad as Rhodey. And he may have been the dumbest genius Rhodey had ever met, but he wasn’t this dumb. He had to know what was going on, that this was real. 

But then, abruptly, he was tilting his head away, sliding off the counter to pull back entirely and head across the kitchen. 

“I, um… I should go,” he said, not quite meeting Rhodey’s eyes. “Early day tomorrow.”

Rhodey arched an eyebrow at him, felt his heart sink. “The cupcakes aren’t even done! I thought you wanted cupcakes?” 

Tony gave him a pained smile. “Maybe next time,” he said, grabbing his suit jacket. “See you later.” 

He was gone a second later and Rhodey sighed, then thumped his head against the counter for good measure. Clearly, impossibly (although nothing was impossible when it came to Tony, he should have known that by now) Tony had missed every sign that Rhodey was serious about this. Which left the one thing he should have just done in the first place. 

Using his words. 

***

Rhodey was more than familiar with Tony’s tendency to dwell, so first thing the next morning he headed over to his place. It was early enough that the sun was barely up, fog rolling over the water below the house, but he wasn’t surprised when JARVIS directed him down to the workshop. 

Tony had clearly been working all night, his jacket abandoned just inside the door, and Rhodey winced as he stopped beside it, waiting for Tony to acknowledge him. His back was to the door, but he clearly knew Rhodey was there, body tense as he hammered away at something on the work table. He’d changed into sweatpants, but was still wearing his dress shirt from the night before, untucked and sleeves rolled up with a large grease stain above his right elbow. 

When a good thirty seconds had passed and Tony still hadn’t said anything, Rhodey sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look man, I’m sorry. I thought… Well, I wasn’t thinking, obviously. But I’ll knock it off. I was never trying to make you uncomfortable, Tones, I promise.” 

Tony cursed under his breath as he missed, hammering the table instead, but then he put the hammer down, finally turning to face Rhodey. He looked absolutely destroyed, dark bags under his eyes, but he offered Rhodey a wan smile. 

“Well.” He shrugged one shoulder. “We can’t split up now. The bots have accepted you as their mother. U will be devastated.” 

He was playing it off as a joke, but Rhodey knew Tony. He could see the fear in his eyes, the worry that he might lose Rhodey completely, but even more than that, a bit of hope in his smile. Drawing in a deep breath, Rhodey crossed the room. 

“Okay, no more faking it,” he told him. “I like you, Tony. I mean, you’re my best friend in the entire world, but also, I like you.” 

Tony snorted at that, but he ducked his head and when he looked up at Rhodey again his smile was shy and pleased. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Rhodey confirmed. “A lot. I kinda think about it all the time.” 

Tony was flat out beaming now. “So all the cuddling, and the hand holding, and the ‘practicing’?” 

“It was practice. It was… Practice for what I really wanted. And I probably should have said something when I first realized, but I’m saying it now. I really like you, Tony, and I want to be with you, and I don’t think I’m crazy in thinking that you might feel kind of the same--,”

Tony shook his head quickly, eyes wide. “No. No, I do.” 

Rhodey grinned. “Great. And I think we could really be something great. So, you know…” He took Tony’s hands in his, meeting his eyes so there could be no confusion. “Tony, go out with me, so we don’t have to break up.” 

Tony burst out laughing at that, bright and open and happy and Rhodey couldn’t help laughing with him. “Yeah,” he agreed after a minute, hand squeezing over Rhodey’s. “Yeah, that sounds pretty perfect.”

“Great,” Rhodey agreed. And then, because he’d been waiting for what felt like years, he used his grip on Tony’s hand to tug him in close, until they were pressed chest to chest. Tony yelped at the sudden movement, staring up at him with wide eyes, and while he was still caught off guard Rhodey leaned in, pressing their lips together. Tony made a startled noise, like somehow after all these he still hadn’t expected kissing. But it only took him a second to recover and then he was kissing Rhodey back, hands wrapping tight around Rhodey’s back as he parted his lips, tongues sliding together. 

They kissed until Rhodey thought he might actually pass out and pulled back, panting for air. Tony leaned back against the table and blinked up at him, a dazed smile on his face. “Wow,” he breathed. “That was… Wow.” He grinned wide when Rhodey just snorted at him and settled his hands on Rhodey’s hips, holding him close. “Hey, you know what I think we should do?” 

“What’s that?” 

Tony’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Practice.”

@ironhusbandsbingo @tonystarkbingo

#tonystarkbingomarkv #tsbmv #ironhusbandsbingo #ironhsubands #tony stark #james 'rhodey' rhodes #fake dating #mutual pining #friends to lovers #pre-iron man 1 #fic #my fic

[izumiyagami14]

road trip

enlightenmonth // [day 25-28] gift or favor Summary: After a cancelled flight to surprise her boyfriend, Hikari is out of options. That is, until Koushiro offers to drive her. Now he must keep his conflicted feelings about a certain someone all while being in a very confined space for hours with her. What could go wrong?

I might continue this story… idk. Let me know if I should…

Anyways, happy Enlightenmonth again, everyone!This is my seventh prompt for the month, so this concludes my contribution😅 I’m not going to lie, this month was a MILLION times better thanks to the creation of Enlightenmonth (*cough cough* @earlgreymon) ☺️ and the effort from talented writers and artists (I wish I could tag all of you, but there was SO much😭) It was truly amazing to see my oldest ship receive so much love in the span of a month🥺💜💗 because of this, I plan to write more and post them on Fanficition.net. I REALLY hope to see more masterpieces even after Enlightenmonth comes to an end!

The sakura trees swayed in the spring breeze outside the window of the Yagami residence, the decorated branches waving to the two boys in the room. It’s been four years since the reboot, and the DigiDestined are still adjusting to their quickly approaching adult lives.

Koushiro sat at Taichi’s desk, typing on his laptop, while Taichi sat next to him, straddling a chair backwards so he could rest his arms on the back of it.

“Man, I don’t know what to do with my studies, but I have to make a decision real quick,” Taichi explained to his friend.

Koushiro just hummed in response, preoccupied by his work. The typing of the keyboard overwhelmed his mind to where he could barely comprehend what his friend was talking about. “Have you talked to your sister about this? I feel like she’s the one to talk to. She always knows what to say.”

“Nope, not yet. Just you, my friend.”

He glanced up around the room briefly before moving his eyes back to his friend. “Where is she, anyways?”

Taichi looked down at his wrist to check his imaginary watch. “Right about now, she should be on a plane to Shimane. She planned to visit Takeru as a surprise, who is there visiting family.”

Koushiro froze for a second, shifting his gaze from Taichi to his computer keys. “Oh,” he whispered as he continued on his work.

Taichi propped up his head in his hands. “Yeah, I hate to admit it, but I wish I was more like Hikari. She already knew that she wanted to be in education before she could even speak!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

The mention of his sister’s name silenced the discordant ticks for a beat before they picked up again.

“Man, I’m so jealous of her. She already has her life together. She’s been accepted into the education program at her university. She has a job at a daycare to help with her degree. She actually makes time for her family and friends. She even has a boyfriend!”

Koushiro shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the last part. “Taichi, can you change the subje-“

But he continued to ramble on and on. “I mean, granted it’s Yamato’s little brother, but still! She is actually dating someone before me!”

“I would prefer it if you stopped talking about-.” Koushiro tried again, but it did not work.

“She even planned on surprising him at Shimane during break so they could be together! I don’t even want to think about-.”

“Taichi, enough!” Koushiro yelled.

Taichi nearly fell out of his chair and he held up his hands in defense. “Woah, Koushiro! What’s the matter?” He looked at his friend with confusion. He’s never acted like this before.

Koushiro’s face grew as red as his hair and he buried his head in his hands from his sudden outburst. “Oh my goodness. I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have screamed at you like that. I honestly don’t know what got over me.”

“I’ll say, bud!” Taichi laughed. “That was completely out of the blue. I was only talking about Hikari. I don’t know why you would be so grumpy about her life, let alone her love life-.” Realization hit him like a soccer ball to the face. “Koushiro, do you?-“

His face felt hotter. “Stop,” he pleaded.

“Do you like?” Taichi continued to press his friend.

“Please, no…” Koushiro muttered, folding his arms onto his computer and placed his head down.

“Do you like my sister?” He teased.

Koushiro groaned. Why this? Why now? He asked himself. He planned to take this to his grave. “No, I do not. What on Earth makes you think that I do?” His friend gave him an unamused glare, causing him to groan again. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“How long?”

“As long as I can remember…”

Taichi laid his head on his arms so that he rested in the back of his chair. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Koushiro signed, still typing on his computer. “Because I can’t tell her! It’s going to sound stupid.”

Taichi lifted his head in defense. “Then why are you telling me?”

“Because professionals say it’s better to talk about these things with someone rather than bottling it in,” Koushiro joked, looking up at his friend.

Taichi tilted his head and gave Koushiro an expression that screamed yeah, riiiiight. He decided to continue the joke. “And you chose to talk to me? Her older brother?”

Koushiro just hummed in response and leaned back in his chair. “Even though Hikari is your younger sister, you are still my best friend.”

Taichi didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. “You weren’t planning on telling anyone, were you?”

“No, sir.” Koushiro replied, defeated. He let out another frustrated sigh. “Besides, she is with Takeru. She’s leaving early to go visit him in Shimane as a surprise as we speak! She is so happy with him, and I don’t want to ruin that with my intruding feelings…”

Just as he finished his sentence, the front door of the residence slammed. Slow movement made its way from the front door to the bedroom. At the door frame, stood a girl with a suitcase in each hand and a frown on her face. For what Koushiro and Taichi saw, she looked like she was about to cry.

“Hikari, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you on a plane?” Taichi asked, starting to stand up. Before he could make his way to his sister, she dropped her bags at her feet and trudged over to the bed. She dove head first into the pillow and laid on her stomach, silent. Taichi looked at Koushiro, who only shrugged his shoulders in response.

She turned her head to the side so they could hear what she said next. “My flight was cancelled. There’s no way I can go visit Takeru early now.”

Now it makes sense. Taichi walked over and sat on the edge of the bed next to Hikari. He started to rub circles on her back to comfort her as he thought of the next thing to say.

“I don’t know what to do, Taichi. I saved up so I could go visit him early. I mean, the airlines refunded me the ticket, so I thought I could rent a car or something to drive there, but I’m not old enough to-“

“And I wouldn’t let you drive by yourself anyway,” Taichi cut in. “It’s a 10 hour drive from here!”

She sighed and sniffled a bit. “It was supposed to be an unforgettable trip. We planned to sightsee, and visit his relatives…”

Taichi sighed. “Hikari, you know I would totally drive you to see him, but you know I have-“

“I know, I know. I don’t want you to drop everything to make me happy. I’ll be fine!” She interrupted. “I can just see him when he returns. We can always plan on another trip-“

That’s when Koushiro raised his hand to quietly intervene. “May I make a proposal?” The two siblings quickly turned their heads over at the boy at the desk. “What if I drove you to Shimane? I am old enough to rent a car and that way you are not traveling by yourself.”

As he spoke, Taichi's eyes widened and then he slowly narrowed them, their prior conversation still present in his head. “Koushiro, that’s a big favor to ask of you…”

Koushiro shook his head and continued to explain. “I actually have a work conference in Hiroshima that I need to attend in a couple days. I could drive you to Shimane, drop you off with Takeru, and pick you up on my way back. That way, we don’t have to travel alone and you can still surprise Takeru.”

Hikari sat up in her bed and looked at Koushiro in disbelief. “You would really do that?”

Her lingering gaze caused his heart to skip a beat. “Of course. You’re my friend, Hikari. I just want you to be happy.”

Frown transformed to a huge smile as she jumped up and hugged the boy in front of her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She is so happy with him, and I don’t want to ruin that with my intruding feelings… The thought repeated in his head when he realized what he just agreed to. “Let me just converse with my family, pack my few remaining bags, call the rental company, and we can get going.”

“Today?” The Yagami siblings replied in unison, one with more excitement, one with more concern.

“Sure. I’ll be right back with my things, okay?” Before Taichi or Koushiro’s own mind could object, he packed up his laptop and walked out of the room and outside.

He closed the front door to the residence behind him and leaned back against it, head tilted up in disbelief. He can’t believe he just did that. “What did I just do?”

#koukari #enlightenment #enlightenmonth #hikari yagami #koushiro izumi

[navegandoaciegas]

Sunshine Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: fluff, soft!Bucky, mentions of injury (no graphic descriptions), 3.6k words

Summary: You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish he wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

Two years ago you were supposed to enjoy a solo road trip after years of Avenging, but Bucky invited himself along. Now you’re forced back to New York, and your boyfriend is ready to surprise you once again.

A/N: Bucky’s POV. Sequel to I love my baby to death, but I suppose you could read it on its own. As always forgive any mistakes, English is my third language.

Had to repost this cause it didn’t show up in the tags, hopefully this time it will

“I swear Buck, if I see one more damn corn plant I’m losing it. I am this close” you say pinching your thumb and pointer finger real close “to a mental breakdown. I’m never eating corn again, mark my words. No corn flakes, no corn on the cobble, no nothing. I’m done.”

“We’re in Iowa, in the middle of the corn belt, I don’t know what you were expecting.” he replies, slightly amused by your little outburst and sour mood.

“Well, clearly not ending up on the set of Children of the corn.” you groan, getting back to sulking in the passenger’s seat, seething at the fields that are only a scapegoat to the real problem.

You’d been merrily skiing in Montana when his skis got somehow tangled with yours and he tumbled down on you, dragging you down the slope. Hadn’t you injured yourself, rolling in the snow like it only ever happens in cartoons would have been pretty comical.

“What?” you screech, almost jumping off the stretcher and grimacing in pain when your left foot hits the metal poles at the side. “No. It’s just pain, I’m sure it will go away, right? I mean I was an Avenger, I’ve suffered worse than a fall.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but knee surgery will be necessary, the MRI here shows you’ve torn your ACL and from the looks of it, your left knee was already damaged badly, numerous times at that, probably a result of your time on the field.”

“I can’t, I can’t just get surgery, we’re miles away from home and I-”

You’re almost sobbing and Bucky feels like shit because he’s the reason for all this and all he can do now is pat your back reassuringly.

“Given the extent of the damage, I’m afraid there’s no other option.”

“How long is the recovery time?” he asks, voice unsure.

“Well, it’s my knowledge she’s not an enhanced individual, so like any average human it will take anywhere from 6 to 9 months to recover fully. In the meantime, no more hikes or sports.”

Bucky inhales a sharp breath. Six to nine months. No more hikes. Surely you’ll have to go back to New York.

God, you are so going to break up with him.

Turns out you didn’t dump him in Montana, you didn’t abandon him in one of those auto stops along Interstate 90 in South Dakota, and you don’t seem to want to break up with him amidst the green fields of Iowa, but still, he knows he will drive through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It almost seems like a cruel twist of fate, driving the same route you did as friends two years ago, along Interstate 80 headed East instead of West, only this time he’s not hoping to be more than the annoying old man who invited himself on your trip; he’s your boyfriend now, but maybe not for long.

“You know, you really are dramatic.” you say in a teasing tone, “I’m not going to break up with you, stop thinking about that, it was an accident, ‘s not like you beat me.”

“I know, I’m just sorry because you’re in pain and it’s my fault and now we have to get back home but I know you wanted to stay more and I did too and if I didn’t-” he’s rambling, and your place your hand on his thigh and squeeze reassuringly, offering him one of those sweet smiles he dies for.

“Buck, it’s okay” you interrupt his word vomit “like I said a million times before, it was an accident, it’s going to be fine I promise. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise with my mood, I swear I’m just pissed at all this damn corn. We’re never going to a maze again, by the way.” That gets a laugh out of him, and he loves you even more because you’re always there to lift his spirits. “I’m dreading these next months, the surgery, physiotherapy and all, but I know you’re there for me, yes?”

He nods, teary eyed, and you continue, “And I can’t lie, it’s been a while, I’m kind of excited to see everyone again, I mean except for Sam of course,” you say, as if he didn’t “live rent free in your head”, like Sam himself put it, “Jesus that man, how many of our trips has he invited himself on? I’ve lost count. ‘Member when we found him waiting for us in Phoenix? Fuckin’ weirdo.”

You both chuckle at the memory of Sam in your motel room, waiting on your bed with crossed arms like a disappointed parent, pissed off because you hadn’t called in a week and he was worried sick that something may have happened to you, a deadly sniper, and him, the Winter fuckin’ Soldier. Truth is, Bucky was so excited about your new relationship that he rarely let you leave the bed when you were in your room, and when you did you were in no condition to Facetime anyone, with your smudged mascara and swollen lips.

“I’ve heard Clint will come visit us with Laura and the kids. Nathaniel must be so big now.” you add, your eyes glazed over as you think of the little boy who was named after your Natasha.

“God, Morgan is probably all grown up.” he muses, a tinge of sadness in his voice. You squeeze his thigh again. “And the spider kid too, he’s a grown man now.”

“That he is.” you chuckle, “But to me he’ll always be the boy in the red spanx who knocked us on our asses in Berlin.”

He smiles and shakes his head at the memory, and you both fall in a comfortable silence. Now that he’s not consumed by fear anymore, Bucky kind of agrees with you that all this green is, in fact, nauseating.

“You know what, no more popcorn either.”

“Deal.”

-

A year and something ago

Arizona

“Can you believe there’s a city in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences? We should totally go and visit just for the hell of it, sounds like the type of place Steve Rogers should have been born into.” you state with all the seriousness in the world, and he snorts because after all this time you still haven’t found it in yourself to stop mocking Steve’s righteousness.

You’re walking ahead of him and he’s so distracted by your tiny denim shorts that he, the master of stealth, almost trips over a boulder. You’re always pretty but tonight, illuminated by the orange sky of Arizona, you look like a dream. And you’re so happy, snapping photos at everything you see, that even if Bucky hates the desert and the heat makes him uncomfortable, he won’t tell you, because the look on your face makes it all worth it.

“Baby, look at this big boy here, he’s like 20 feet tall. Oh my god, he’s so cute and beefy, just like you.” you gush at one of the giant cactuses of Saguaro National Park.

He raises his eyebrows skeptically.

All he sees are green spiky motherfuckers that he’s accidentally hurt himself with more times that he’d like to admit in all those damn ‘hikes’ you like so much, but to you cactuses are the most beautiful sight in the word. He genuinely does not see the appeal, but he understands now how you feel when he talks about all his ‘nerd shit’, as you call it.

“I’m cuter.” he says frowning.

“Of course you are.”

For some reason you don’t sound convincing at all.

-

It’s only spring but here in Tucson the temperature is 85 degrees today and he’s sweating buckets underneath the long sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing to conceal his vibranium arm. He’s long past the time when he was forced to hide from authorities or the general public’s judgement, but still he doesn’t want to be recognized and attract attention. He doesn’t do well with crowds, and he doesn’t understand how you can be so calm and collected when people stare at you and ask for photographs while you’re minding your own business.

As soon as you get back to the motel you’re staying at he takes off his soaked shirt, not caring that the air conditioning is probably going to end his old ass.

“What the hell happened to you?” you ask, scowling as you analyze the skin around his prosthetic.

He shrugs. “It happens sometimes.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me James.”

You only call him that when he’s in big trouble. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose: why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the damn time? “It’s nothing sweetheart, just sometimes the skin becomes flared when it’s too hot.”

“Nothing?” you shrill, throwing your hands around animatedly, “Nothing? Bucky your whole shoulder is super red and irritated, don’t act like it’s normal. We’ve been in the sun for hours, for days really, why didn’t you tell me anything? I would have driven us back here immediately. Does it hurt?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to ruin your fun, you liked it so much there. And no, it only itches a little.”

Your eyes soften and you move to cup his face in your hands, looking at him with so much love that he feels himself melt away into a puddle, “Baby you don’t need to do that, you know I care more about you than anything else.”

“Even more than the cactuses?”

“Well, now you’re asking too much of me.”

He snorts and playfully hits your arm, then he falls back on the bed and drags you down with him. You stay cuddled like that for a while before you pull back to look into his eyes.

“I appreciate you doing this for me Buck, but you don’t ever need to sacrifice your own comfort for me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry. But you looked so happy.”

“Don’t be, and I’m always happy with you, I promise.”

“I’m always happy too.”

“We’re such saps. Gross. Anyways, guess where we’re going next?” you ask him cheerfully, scratching his scalp the way that makes him purr like a cat.

“The plan was New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana, right?” he frowns. You’d made plans together ages ago and you were so excited about visiting Texas of all places for God knows what reason. He’s predicted already that he won’t stand the suffocating, humid heat of that whole area. At least Arizona was dry as hell.

You on the other hand, everyday he’s become more aware of how much of a lizard you are, seeking the sun and walking around in the scorching heat not even breaking a sweat.

“Guess again baby boy, we’re going straight to Oregon. I mean, it's not Alaska but it’s not as hot as the desert here, right?

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to overheat?” you state like it’s obvious, rolling your eyes, “We’ll do New Mexico and the rest next fall, and now Oregon and Washington because it’s a little cooler there. So what do you say?” You ask with a hopeful look in your eyes.

“Princess I appreciate you doing this for me, but I promise I’ll be fine. You don’t have to change plans for me, this is your road trip.”

“No you won’t Buck, you’re not doing good and I don’t ever want to see you suffer, you understand? By the time we get to Texas it will be summer and you won’t stand it, it’s better if we visit when it’s colder.”

He smiles softly. He knows he’d do the same for you. “Then Oregon it is.”

You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom to shower, “Oh, and baby?” you call out,  peeking your head from behind the door, “This is your road trip too, never forget that.”

-

Oregon

“Why does Thor get to have places named after him and we don’t? We were Avengers too.”

“But are we norse gods?”

“I mean, not yet, but I definitely deserve some nature’s wonder, or at least a star, to be named after me.”

“I’ll call WMO and get them to name a hurricane after you, princess. It seems more fitting.”

“Asshole.”

You’d been camping somewhere in Oregon’s wilderness when he came up with the idea of visiting all of the State’s so called seven wonders, starting from Thor’s Well on the Coast and ending in Mount Hood near Portland. You took a thousand photos of each attraction and sent a video of the water seemingly draining inside the famous well to the God himself, who enthusiastically expressed his appreciation.

Bucky’s cherished every minute of it, from the hot springs of Crater Lake to the chillier temperatures at night that force you to snuggle closer to him to warm up.

You’re in Portland now, and you’re thoroughly enjoying it, but what’s new about that? You’re always so full of life, so genuinely excited about everything the world has to offer that he’d be worried if you weren’t having the time of your life as you usually are.

He likes the city too, which is saying a lot.

“Blueberries are the superior berry and that’s the hill I’m willing to die on.”

You’ve been eating your way through Portland for weeks, and you’ve been discussing pies for a solid thirty minutes now. It’s raining outside and you’re cooped up in a small pie shop, eating more than an average human can and receiving weird looks from the waitress as you tell her to ‘keep ‘em coming’.

“I’m sorry but you’re wrong princess,” he states with a stuffed mouth just for the sake of aggravating you to no end, “blackberries are just so much better.”

It works as you grimace in disgust, both at his statement and his manners.

He’s found out you are weirdly opinionated when it comes to pies: pecan pies are an abomination, pumpkin doesn’t belong in dessert, lemon pie and key lime pie are only acceptable if someone’s grandma is kindly offering them to you, rhubarb pie without strawberries is a threat to mankind and cherry and blueberry pies are the absolute best. Apple pie is too bland to even take the time to discuss it, although the taste is likeable enough.

He on the other hand likes anything pie and anything sweet. And anything that gets a rise out of you.

“Please Buck, this isn’t even a blackberry pie, it’s some sort of inbred experiment that turned out kinda right.”

He shushes you, barely holding back a laugh when he sees the waiter side eyeing you as you disrespect one of Oregon’s most famous dishes, “First of all, it’s called marionberry and it’s a type of blackberry. And second, keep it down unless you want us to be kicked out, you’re offending a whole state.”

“Sorry.” you shrug, “But blueberry tartness level is where I draw the line, anything more than that is unacceptable.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re still a child and haven’t developed adult taste buds yet baby.” He does love his senior citizen card a bit too much.

This earns him a kick under the table and a scowl. “Stop it, grandpa.” you groan.

He grins and digs in your slice of marionberry pie. You resume to people watching.

God, he loves Oregon. And he loves you.

He really is a sap.

-

Wyoming

Washington was nice enough. You’ve taken him bar crawling most nights, and all of them have ended with him giving you a piggyback ride, per your request, back to the hotel room you were staying at.

It takes 13 hours to drive from Seattle to Yellowstone and you’ve driven all the way. You refused to disclose the destination of the trip and he’s fallen asleep the last 3 hours in the car. He’d mentioned he wanted to see the geysers somewhere in Pennsylvania two years ago and you remembered and took him.

Bucky couldn’t be happier.

He’s still describing the constellations above you when you fall asleep, and he’s so absorbed by the sky that he doesn’t notice until your head falls on his shoulder and he hears your soft snores.

He picks you up bridal style and takes you back to the fancy tent he bought on a whim in Ohio after you both slept in the SUV and woke up with major back and neck pain. He smiles as he removes your makeup with a wipe and does your skincare just the way you taught him, and admires your relaxed state.

He grazes your pretty face with his vibranium fingers, something so unimaginable to him before he met you, as he never thought his arm could bring anything other than pain.

Back when he was a semi stable 100 year old man thrust in another fight yet again, he hadn’t realized the extent of his feelings for you, believing he was only attracted to your beauty and youth. He hadn’t seen the way your smile lights up a whole room, nor the way you listen, truly listen, to anyone who may have anything to tell you, without ever judging them. He hadn’t witness your kindness and patience, let alone experienced them on his own skin. He hadn’t been lucky enough to watch you feed bird seed to the ducks of every pond of the country, or try to rescue a cat from a rooftop and almost falling off to save it.

Then Sam told him you were leaving and he felt like the word was collapsing on him. He’d found the sunlight and he never wanted to be without it.

Now he’s seen it all, all the little things that make you who you are, including your flaws, and he loves you not regardless of them, nor in spite of them, but because even your worst imperfections make you… you.

Bucky doesn’t know if meeting you was a way for the universe to fix all the wrongs that have been done to him, a sort of payback for all the shit he’s been put through, but in case it is, then he’s got no objections. And maybe he doesn’t deserve someone as good as you, but he’s a selfish man, and now that his sunshine girl is with him he never wants to plunge back into the the darkness ever again.

He tucks you both under the sleeping bag and snuggles next to you.

“Buck?” you mumble in a haze, tugging at his t-shirt, “Love you.”

It’s almost imperceptible, but his supersoldier hearing allows him to pick it up. He kisses the crown of your hair as he caresses your back.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

He wants to spend the rest of his time on Earth proving you how much.

-

New York

6 months later

The doctor wasn’t lying when she warned you that recovery would take 6 to 9 months.

You said the aftermath of the operation hurt like a bitch and that physiotherapy hurt even more. Today’s your last session and Bucky is glad about it for many reasons, like how you’re not in pain anymore for starters, and maybe because of how annoyingly fun, smart and hot your therapist is. Not like he’d ever admit it to you.

“Jesus,” you groan, “he turned me inside out like a sock, I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

“Sounds fun.” he deadpans.

“Someone’s jealous of the doctor?” you ask with a mischievous smirk.

“‘M not. He’s not all that.” he mumbles, blushing like a school boy.

You snort and drawl a ‘sure’. He sends you his best death glare.

“Whatever. I hope you don’t mind if we take a stop before going home.” he announces, helping you into the car. His palms feel clammy and he’s sweating despite the chilly winds of New York’s fall.

“Sure, where are we going?”

“Actually, that’s kind of a surprise, you’ll see.”

You beam at his words; he knows you love surprises and he hopes you’re going to like this one.

----

You look radiant as you lie on the blanket he’s spread on the grass, surrounded by colorful foliage. You’re sipping some of your favorite wine and nibbling on crackers as you admire a flock of birds migrating south in the sky.

You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish we wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

He’s prepared a long, passionate speech to tell you how much he loves you, of all the ways you’ve changed his life for the better and of all the reasons why he’d be a good husband.

But when you look at him with those bright eyes and beaming smile, he can barely remember his own name. He drops on one knee and holds the box out with shaky hands.

“Marry me, please.”

----

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog and comment, don’t be shy, feedback is always appreciated 🥺🤲

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n

[supermarvelgirl15]

Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 2: Coffee?

Summary: You seem to struggle to carry a lot of things. Bucky needs to learn that it's okay to have friends.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × f!oc-insert

Word Count: 1,705

Warnings: None I think

A/N: This is pretty much a filler tbh lol. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

    One more. You could carry one more bag.

    Splat.

    Maybe not. 

    You cursed under your breath as you squatted down, trying to grab the bag that you dropped on the ground. Hopefully the contents inside didn’t spill and they were all still good. You should really stop trying to carry more things than you possibly can. It’s just, why would you make multiple trips when you can just take one?

    The bags that seemed to fall from your grip every thirty or so feet were meant for the veterans in the shelter that had been built post-Blip. The shelter needed all the help that it could get, so you decided to buy them some sandwiches with a few extra snacks from the grocery store. It wasn’t the ideal breakfast food, but you were sure they would still love them.

    The search for your brother so far has turned up empty handed. The security cameras at the docks had somehow been wiped, which immediately raised some red flags. The footage mysteriously cut off as soon as Colton parked his car, picking back up again a couple hours later. 

    Technology wasn’t exactly your strong suit, so you sent the tape to one of the members of your old SEAL team, Rhett. Rhett was probably the smartest one that was on your team, and if anyone could do it, it was him. So while you were waiting on some feedback from him, you were going to help where you could.

    Bucky wasn’t exactly sure why he was out this early in the morning, but he needed to be anywhere where he wasn’t being trapped inside his own head. His nightmares weren’t getting any better and the one last night was a bad one. He was tired, grumpy, and desperate.

    He needed something to distract himself. If he tried to get Yuri out this early, it would certainly get him cursed out in Japanese. There wasn’t really anyone else for him to go to anymore, so that just left the option of him wandering around the streets of Brooklyn. 

    Brooklyn. He grew up here a long time ago and it was barely recognizable anymore. Sure, there were places that were still the same since the forties, but it just seemed different. Maybe it was because he was different.

    A familiar sound of curses made him look up from where he was watching his feet, looking around for the source. His eyes landed on you, squatting down to pick up one of the various bags that you had dropped. Why was he always catching you in these situations? 

    He’s seen you a few times since the first time you met, but it was nothing more than offering a small smile to the other. Sometimes you would say something to him in passing and he would just nod in acknowledgement. 

    Could he be more friendlier to his new neighbor? Yes, he could be way nicer to you. The old him would have even tried to make a move on you. He just wasn’t in the market for new friends at the moment. Especially ones that knew who he was. 

    At first, he was just going to continue on his way, not wanting to interact with anybody while he was in a mood. But when he saw you plop down on a bench with that defeated look on your usually cheerful face, he couldn’t not help you. 

    Bucky glanced around him as he approached you, taking his gloved hands out of pockets. You didn’t seem to notice him, too immersed with checking whatever was inside the bags that you had been carrying.

    “Good mornin’,” Bucky greeted you, sticking his hands back into his pockets once again. He observed as your sad look from before quickly changed back into your usual happy one. Then he noticed how you internally did a double take once you realized that it was him speaking to you.

    “Morning,” you replied with a smile as you set the bag you were looking through to the side with the others. A voice inside his head made him wonder how someone like you could smile at him like that, but he quickly blocked it out. 

    He cleared his throat before he continued talking. “You looked like you could use some help,” he gestured to the bags on the bench beside you. 

    You looked down at the bags, nodding slightly. “I… Yeah, I could definitely use a lot of help,” you chuckled as you stood up. “I’m taking these to the veterans shelter down about three blocks. I don’t want to cause you any trouble by asking you for help,” you licked your lips as you picked up a few of the bags.

   Bucky shook his head as he started picking up the rest of the bags. “You didn’t ask. I offered,” he reminded you, starting in the direction of the shelter. You stood there in shock for a moment before shaking it off and quickly followed him. 

    The walk to the shelter was pretty much a quiet one, neither one of you knowing how to start a conversation with the other. You couldn’t help but try to sneak a glance to his left hand, trying to see if any metal was peeking out. You wondered if he noticed what you were doing, watching as he shifted the bags in his hand somewhat nervously out of the corner of your eye.

    Bucky stayed outside as you went into the shelter to drop off the bags of food with the volunteers. He didn’t feel comfortable going inside, not wanting to risk actually seeing someone that would know him. If anyone was going to recognize him, it would be war veterans.

    You came back out a few minutes later, waving goodbye to one of the old men before you shut the door behind you. You stuffed your hands into your jacket pockets as you walked over to where Bucky was standing. 

    “Thanks for helping me. I’d probably still be dropping them on the street if you didn’t show up,” you laughed slightly. Bucky gave you one of his awkward smiles in return, telling you not to mention it. He turned to leave, taking a few steps away from you, but something came over you. You couldn’t let him leave just yet.

    “Would you… like to get some coffee?”

    Bucky stopped in his tracks, turning back to face you. He knows that he should say no. He didn’t want to let anyone get close to him. 

    “Sure, why not?”

                                          ★

    The café wasn’t too far from their apartment building, Bucky finds out. He wondered why he’s never been here as he listened to you tell him how now was the perfect time to go since the breakfast rush was coming to an end. He realizes you were right when you both sit down in a booth tucked away in the corner. There were only a couple other people in there, making the café a nice contrast to the busy streets just outside.

    The waitress that took your coffee orders made the place even cozier with her soft spoken voice. You told him that her name was Jolene and that she started not too long before you moved into the apartment across from him. He’s been here longer than you and you’re already making more friends than him. Then again, he wasn’t exactly trying to.

    When the waitress came back with your orders, you slipped her your debit card to pay for both of your drinks, much to Bucky’s protest. He tried to argue that he could pay for his own coffee.

    You shook your head, blowing into your coffee to cool it off some. “It’s my way of thanking you. Plus, I get a military discount,” you smiled cheekily at him, taking a sip of your drink.

    Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked over at you, the money problem briefly leaving his mind. “You’re military?” He questioned, glancing you up and down. He honestly didn’t take you as a soldier, but some things about you did make sense now.

    You nodded as you reached into your shirt, pulling out your dog tags to show him. “I used to be. Apparently my squad was disbanded during the Blip, so they put me in early retirement,” you answered him, the last sentence coming out bitterly. 

    Bucky nodded apologetically, taking a small sip from his coffee. “It seems the Blip screwed over a lot of people,” he commented, glancing around the café.

    You opened your mouth to change the subject, but was interrupted by your phone going off. You apologized to Bucky before looking at it, seeing that it was a message from Rhett. Your heart started beating faster as you read the three words he sent you.

    I got it.

    You stuffed your phone back into your pocket as you started swiftly sliding out of the booth. “I’m so sorry, but something just came up. I know this is so rude,” you started rambling out an apology.

    “It’s fine, really. Everything okay, Kris?” Bucky stopped you, looking at you worriedly. He hoped it wasn’t something he did.

    You bit your lip, nodding frantically. “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just a, a family emergency. Um, if you give me your number, I’ll let you know when I can make this up to you,” you tell him, your eyes widening once you realize you literally just asked James Barnes for his number. “If you want to, that is. I totally understand if you don’t want to give it to me.”

    Bucky laughs slightly, easing your anxiety some. He definitely should laugh more. “Yeah, uh, it’s…” He started reading out his number to you as you quickly typed it into your phone. 

    You give him another smile as you saved his number. “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to you later, James,” you said, turning to leave before getting stopped by Bucky’s voice.

    “You can just call me Bucky. The only person that calls me James anymore is my therapist,” he cringed at his attempt at a joke. Who tells someone they barely know that they have a therapist?

    You didn’t seem to mind as you smiled at him again. “Goodbye, Bucky.”

××××××

@bucky-bunnie @learisa @denimbex1986 @magconfangurl1​ (If you would like to be removed/added please let me know!)

#DToB #marvel #marvel imagines #bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan #kay writes

[shadow-assassin-blix]

Parent Trap AU

Part 4

Marcus Moreno x Reader

A/N: The dreaded Ex appears. But lots of Family time and Protective!Dad Marcus. Hm. There may only be 2 more parts after this. There will be lots of headcanons about them though. 

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

Pedro Tag: @m-1234 @fioccodineveautunnale @artsymaddie @blo0dangel​ @mcrmarvelloki​

It had been a several months since that first date; things have gone much better. The two of them had gone on several dates, both together and with their kids. The four of them had become their own makeshift family.

Currently Shade and Artemis were spending their Saturday together, baking brownies and cookies while watching some Netflix. Artemis really enjoyed The Vampire Diaries, so an episode was on in the background. As they were mixing the batters, there was a knock on the front door. Shade left Artemis to finish mixing the brownies, to answer it.

She opened the door and immediately frowned at who she saw standing there. It was Mike, her ex, Artemis’ father.

“What are you doing here?” She asked in a whisper, angrily.

“What? I can’t come see my daughter?” He asked in a disinterested voice.

“No. Not when you compare her to your other kids and make her feel less than. Get off my property,” She demanded, moving to shut the door.

He grabbed hold of the door, stopping it from slamming in his face.

“I have a right to see her,” He said loudly, trying to push the door pack open.

“No. No you do not. You didn’t want her when I was pregnant with her. You didn’t want her for the first 7 years of her life. I gave you the courtesy of being in her life, and you have made her feel worthless every time she’s seen you. You don’t get to waltz in when you feel like it and mess up her life the way you did mine. Now, I’m goin’ to say this one more time: Get. Off. My. Property,” She stated firmly, putting her weight into closing the door.

The door reluctantly closed, and she locked it as quickly as she could. She could hear him yell at her through the door, before stomping off.

She slid down to the floor, her back against the door. She sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around her knees, bowing her head down.

“Momma? Are you okay?” She heard Artemis ask.

She lifted her head up, looking at Artemis who was standing in the entryway of the living room.

“Yeah. Yeah baby, I’m okay. C’mere,” She waved her over, opening her arms up for her, straightening her legs out.

Artemis rushed over to her, crawling into her lap. Once Artemis was comfortable, Shade held her to her close, rocking her slightly.

“I don’t want to see him anymore,” She hears Artemis whisper to her.

Shade nodded softly, murmuring she understood.

At that point, her phone rang, and as she answered it, she sighed with relief as she heard Marcus’s voice speak.

“How are my girls doing? We still on for tonight?” Marcus chipper voice asked.

“Yeah. Um. Actually… do you mind if we come over to you? I’ll… I’ll explain when we get there,” Shade wondered as she tried to think quickly.

“Sure! Come over whenever you are ready, we will be here!” Marcus replied still trying to sound happy, but she could hear the concern.

Shade hung up, and the two of them got up. Shade quickly cleaned up the kitchen, tossing the abandoned batters. Shade packed an overnight bag for the both of them, wanting to get away from the house for the evening. Once their bags were ready, the two of them got in the car and drove off. They arrived at Marcus’ home in less than 20 minutes and made their way inside.

Marcus looked at the two of them, worry furrowing his brow.

Artemis dropped her bag, and immediately hugged Marcus. Marcus picked her up, hugging her tightly. Artemis buried her face into his chest, and Marcus spoke to her softly, carrying her to the guest bedroom.

Missy came downstairs and gave Shade a hug in greeting, and looked around confused.

“It’s a long story, kiddo. So, what do we wanna do for dinner?” Shade asked, trying to distract herself.

“I was thinking takeout? Not pizza, but maybe some Chinese?” Missy offered as the two of them walked into the kitchen.

The Hero

Marcus carried Artemis into the guest bedroom, so they could talk. Artemis had quietly said she wanted to talk to him when he had picked her.

The two of them sat down onto the bed, and Marcus waited for her to speak.

“…my dad came by today. He wanted to see me. Mom wouldn’t let him. I don’t want to see him anymore,” Artemis rambled quietly.

Marcus felt a slight swell of anger build within him; Shade had told him in great detail many of the things he had done in the past. He had constantly allowed his kids to bully her and made her feel like she was a burden.

Marcus pressed a kiss to her head, before looking her in the eyes, “Hey, you are perfectly allowed to choose that. If you don’t want to see him, you don’t have to. Besides, you are mine. Just like Missy. You two are both my kids. Nothing will change that.”

Artemis looked at him, tears building up her in eyes, “Really?”

“Really, really. You’re mine. You are my daughter too,” He said firmly.

He hears her sniffle and pulled her into a hug; he allowed her to cry and let it out. It took several minutes, but soon the tears subsided. She pulled away, rubbing her eyes.

“Do you want to go eat dinner, or do you want to relax in here for a bit, and eat later?” Marcus wanted her to have the option to rest if need be.

“Not really hungry. Wouldn’t mind just taking a nap if that’s okay?” She requested, her voice a little hoarse.

“That’s perfectly fine. It’s the summer anyway, sleep schedules are allowed to be off from time to time,” He said with a smile, tucking her into bed after she slipped off her shoes.

Artemis smiled back a little, curling into a ball under the covers. Marcus stayed with her until she fell asleep, turning the light off and leaving the door propped open.

Marcus stepped back out to the kitchen, smiling as Missy told Shade about her day as they wrote down the takeout order to call in. Missy looked up as she heard him stepped in and smiled brightly.

“Hey dad. Where’s Artie?” Missy looked past him as she asked.

“She’s not quite hungry right now, so she’s going to take a nap. You can join her if you want, I’m sure she would like your company,” Marcus proposed as he leaned the kitchen island.

Missy was down the hall in seconds.

It was quiet as the two of them stood there, the air felt slightly tense in some way.

Marcus slowly walked around to Shade, tugging her gently into his arms. She all but collapsed into his embrace. He felt her take a deep breath, releasing it shakily. Marcus simply held her, knowing she simply needed someone to be there for her.

“I can’t believe he just… showed up. Like. Like he hadn’t ignored her for the past year. I hate him. I’m so glad I never put his name on her birth certificate,” She muttered the last piece.

Marcus gently pulled back a bit and looked at her confused.

“Every time….” She began but stopped, taking another shaky breath. “Every time he pops back up, I worry that he’s going to try and take her. Try and… fight for custody of her.”

Marcus sighed sadly, feeling her pain.

“Well. Guess it’s a good thing you have me. He’d have to pry her from my cold dead hands to take her from us. I know… I know this is sudden but… I know two things. One, I want to marry you soon. Two, I want to adopt Artie. You two are my girls, just as much as Missy is. I’m not letting either of you go,” Marcus declared looking her in the eye.

The Artist

Shade blinked rapidly at that declaration. Of all the things she expected him to say, that was not one of them.

“You… you what?” She whispered not quite believing him.

“I don’t mean to unload this all on you suddenly. But I wanted you to know that I want and love both of you. I wanted to talk about this to you in a more romantic setting, but-” His statement was cut off by her kissing him.

Shade couldn’t help herself. It was probably the sweetest thing she had ever heard, and she was overcome with the urge to kiss him. She felt him smile as he kissed back, one of his hands resting at the base of her neck. Shade’s arm found a home around his neck, keeping him close.

When they finally parted, they were panting slightly, trying to catch their breaths.

“I love you,” She said softly to him.

“I love you too honey,” Marcus replied kissing her nose.

They spent the rest of the evening constantly near each other, and the girls when they both got up to eat.

The Hero

The next morning, Marcus slipped quietly out of the bed, kissing Shade on the cheek as he left her. He got dressed and drove back to Shade’s house. The two of them had talked last night about her and Artemis staying a couple more days. So, he was going to drive to their place, to get more clothes for them.

He had a spare key on him, so when he parked, he simply let himself in. It didn’t take him long to pack up a suitcase for both of them, with clothes and some toys/stuffed animals for Artemis. He had just placed the bags in the trunk when another vehicle pulled up.

A tall man with dirty blonde hair, and a scowl on his face stepped out.

“Who the hell are you?” The man asked as he stepped up to him.

“Marcus Moreno. You must be Mike,” Marcus wasn’t impressed by him.

“Yeah. I am. Where is Shade and Artemis?” He demanded to know.

“None of your business. So how about you leave?” Marcus refused to answer.

“How about you to tell me where my brat is and her whore of a mother?” Mike got directly in his face.

Marcus was done. He wasn’t going to allow this cretin bad mouth his family. He couldn’t stop himself. He threw a punch, knocking Mike down.

“I’m going to say this once. You will leave my fiancé and OUR daughter alone. You will not harass them. You will not show up out of the blue like this. You got it? As a Heroic, I have dealt with villains of all shapes and sizes. But men like you? Men who treat their children as disposable? You are the worst,” Marcus said with disgust.

Mike looked up at him with slight fear and realization, “Wait. You’re THAT Marcus Moreno?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow at him, nodding once, daring him to say something else.

Mike scrambled to get up on his feet and ran to his car.

Marcus stared harshly as he watched him drive off. He was then suddenly aware… that he had an audience.

He awkwardly smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as some fans had stopped and recorded the whole scene.

“How long have y’all been there?” He asked somewhat embarrassed.

“The entire time sir. Are you really engaged?” A teenaged girl asked staring at him in awe.

“Yeah. I am,” He answered with a nod.

He heard her go ‘awww.’

The boys of the group asked for an autograph, which he happily did. One of the boys, started to leave but turned back.

“That was really cool… defending your family like that. Wish my dad was like that,” He said to him, before walking away.

He didn’t quite know what to say to that, and once the coast was clear, he got into his car and drove off.

When he returned home, and brought the bags inside, he checked on all 3 of his girls. Missy and Artemis were still passed out. Shade was slowly waking up when he stepped into his bedroom.

“Hi. Where did you go?” She asked sleepily.

“Went to go get you some stuff from your house. Ran into Mike,” Marcus said with a wince thinking back to the situation.

She shot up and stared at him concerned.

“Umm. I might’ve punched him… and referred to you as my fiancé. And called Artemis “our daughter.” It was…. Not my best moment,” Marcus confessed.

She stared at him incredulous… before several snickers escaped.

Her giggles continued for several minutes, which caused Marcus to chuckle a bit as well. Marcus told her everything in detail, especially the part about the audience.

She still giggled but sobered up finally to tell him, “I’m just glad he didn’t try to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Never,” Marcus played it off, with a wave of his hand.

She was about to say something else but there was a powerful knock at the door.

Marcus made his way back downstairs, answering it quickly.

“Miracle Guy? What are you doing here?” He questioned looking at his best friend.

“You haven’t been answering your phone calls or texts,” Miracle said making his way inside.

Marcus pulled out his phone to see he had several missed calls and texts from… everyone.

“HQ has been losing their mind, apparently one of those kids was livestreaming the entire incident. Everyone wants to meet this fiancé of yours. Every news outlet wants an interview about your new love interest and everything,” Miracle explained with a shake of his head.

“Okay. Well. Then they are just going to have to continue wondering. Not that I’m not happy to see you and all MG, but why are you telling me this and not someone from admin?” Marcus asked him curiously.

“Oh. I am here to call a best friend foul. Why haven’t I heard about this fiancé of yours?” MG teased him.

“Marcus? Everything okay?” Came Shade’s voice as she stepped downstairs, dressed.

MG looked at him surprised as he looked between Marcus and Shade.

“Shade? No way. S’that you? Wow. You look great!” MG exclaimed giving her a hug as she stood next to Marcus.

“Hi. Yeah. It’s me. I hear you finally settled down, wife and kid and all,” Shade said with a smile.

He smiled proudly, nodding.

“I’m guessing his little performance caused some problems,” Shade noted hesitantly.

“A little bit, but nothing that can’t be handled,” MG said with a shrug.

“Yeah. If any damage control needs to happen, please let me know what I can do to help,” Shade offered with a half shrug.

“Alright. Good to know,” MG said as he made his way to the front door.

Shade moved to check on the girls, allowing Marcus and MG some privacy again.

“Damn. You have so much to explain man,” MG said lowly.

“I’ll tell ya everything when I come in later today. Suspect I am going to have to give a statement and such,” Marcus promised with a smile.

“You better,” MG said as he took off.

Marcus closed the door, staring at his left hand as he did so. He had taken off his ring a month after he had started dating Shade, feeling it was time. He looked at his leather jacket, specifically the lump that could be seen in one of the pockets.

He hears Shade leading the girls into the kitchen promising pancakes for breakfast. As she did that, he made his way upstairs, closing the door, so he could make some phone calls.

One of which was to his mom. It took only two rings before she picked up.

“Hello my sweet boy. What’s happening?” Came her cheerful voice.

“Hi ma. Um. Some things have happened, and I needed your advice,” He began, before explaining everything that happened this morning.

“I… I want to marry her. Even… I even have the ring… but…” He didn’t know how to explain his feelings.

“The closer you get to Shade, the farther you get away from Isabelle?” His mother supplied.

“… Yes. Guess… part of me never thought I would wind up here again. Deeply in love with a woman that I want to make mine forever,” Marcus whispered looking down at his lap.

“But that doesn’t mean you are forgetting Isabelle. You still have the memories you shared with her. If you feel in your heart that she makes you happy, and that you want to take that step with her, then do it. Isabelle wouldn’t want you to put your life on hold,” His mother tells him softly.

He hummed softly, “You’re right. Guess… I guess I’m just scared.”

“Just because you’re a Heroic doesn’t mean you are fearless, my dearest. Now, go take care of work and tonight talk things out with Shade,” His mother ordered.

Marcus hung after thanking her and made several more calls to work. An hour later he had to make his way into work and make official statements.

The Artist

Shade took care of the kids while Marcus did what he needed to do. As the girls played outside, she suddenly got inspired to draw. She pulled out her sketchbook from her things and began to draw. She sat outside with the girls as she drew, smiling at the giggles she heard occasionally.

Eventually, she felt the girls hover over her shoulders to watch her work. She was quietly drawing Marcus in his superhero outfit, with a hand on his hip and the other hovering over his sword handle.

It was the first time she had drawn him in a very long time and for the first time she had so many ideas floating in her mind. She stopped when the girls wanted to hang out and sat her sketchbook on a table inside the house. The three of them watched some movies. Marcus didn’t come home for dinner, and the girls went to bed at about 10pm.

Shade waited for him in the living room, returning to her sketches. It was close to 11pm before the front door open and Marcus walked in and collapsed onto the couch next to her.

“Tired?” She asked setting her book and pencil down.

He turned his head to look at her and nodded tiredly. He pulled his arms out of his jacket, just letting it sit there.

“Today was a mess but everything is settled for now,” Marcus said with a sigh.

He was quiet for a moment, reaching into one of his pockets. He pulled out a small velvet box.

“Not… not quite how I wanted to do this but,” He said as he handed it to her.

She took it from him, slowly opening it. Inside was an engagement ring that had a rainbow of gems lining the band.

“Not going to lie… I’ve… I’ve carried that since college. I kept it in a lockbox when we broke up. I was going to say some cheesy line of ‘my world was black and white, and you brought color to it.’ When we started to date, I took off my old wedding band, thinking it was time. The past 10 months just made me remember how much I loved you when we were younger and that love has just grown exponentially,” He began to explain.

She listened to him closely, her eyes flicking between him and the ring.

“It took me a long time to get over most of the guilt I felt with moving on with my life. It still creeps up every now and again, like… this morning. But I want you to stay in my life. You make me so happy. You and Artemis both have are so wonderful. I can even see Missy changing for the better. She’s so much happier with Artemis in her life. You… don’t have to decide now, if you are overwhelmed, but I was serious when I said I wanted to marry you,” Marcus concluded taking a deep breath.

Shade stared at him in shock. It took a minute for it to fully process what he said. She blinked rapidly as she stared at the ring, and felt tears welling up in her eyes.

She slowly pulled the ring from its box. She examined it with a smile that slowly grew. She slipped it onto her left ring finger, noting that it fit perfectly.

“No time needed. I love you and Missy too. Artemis… was so shy before she met her. I never would’ve thought she’d hit a boy to defend someone being bullied,” Shade joked thinking back.

Marcus chuckled, nodding his head.

Marcus leaned over to kiss her. Shade kissed him back enthusiastically, the two of them smiling at each other. The two of them heard giggles around the corner followed by a shushing.

The two of them shook their heads, and Marcus called out, “Ladies. What are two doing up at this hour?”

The two of them waited for a moment before they heard two sets of feet rushing to them. The girls ran to them, jumping into their laps, excitedly talking, and asking questions at rapid fire.

The two of them laughed at their excitement and waited for them to settle to answer questions.

Missy was sitting in Shade’s lap, while Artemis was in Marcus’.

“Well. The two of you are bright and intelligent. I guess we should talk this out with you two,” Shade said looking at the girls. “Are the both of you okay with us getting married?”

The two of them looked at each other and smiled, nodding happily.

“Does that mean we will be sisters?” Artemis asked somewhat shyly.

“Yes. It does. Are you okay with me being your dad?” He asked her directly.

“… kinda thought you were already,” Artemis said quietly, looking down.

Marcus nodded his head, and Shade could see some tears forming in his eyes, as he hugged her.

“Yeah. I am sweet girl,” He told her.

“Missy. What about you? Are you… are you okay with me being your mom?” Shade asked her hesitantly.

Missy was quiet for a moment, before answering, “Yeah. There’s lots of room for you and Artie in my heart.”

Shade thought back to one of their first conversations and realized what she was referring to.

“Yeah? That’s good to know. Do you remember what else I said that day?” She asked her.

“That you don’t want to replace my mom. Though… like Artie… I kinda thought of you as my mom already,” Missy admitted.

Shade smiled at her sweetly, hugging her.

“So. We are all okay with making this family legit in the eyes of the law? Say aye,” Shade said jokingly.

There were three ‘ayes’ in response followed by several giggles.

The four of them spent some time talking further, before heading to bed.

Marcus and Shade spoke more about details, like, wanting to make the engagement long while they found a home that was big enough for all four of them. The two of them didn’t want to rush anything and wanted to make sure they got everything ready. The wedding wasn’t going to be large grand affair; something small for them and their friends and family.

They didn’t have anything set in stone yet, but they knew one thing for sure. They had each other, and their girls were happy.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #parent trap au

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader

Chapter 5- Valhalla

Summary: The gala was fun and all, a mild exception being when you almost got choked out by one of the Swedes. For the time being, you and Diego get a surprise visit by the rest of the Hargreeves.

If you want tagged just hit me up. Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @fandomoverlord221 @la-vie-en-amour1 @2cuteforyourlies @thatfandombitcch

“You know, I’m starting to get the feeling Dads avoiding us.” Five says frustrated, looking on as the cars continue to hastily leave the ruined party.

“Yeah, no shit.” You mumble back at him, fixing your dress, as you happen to notice how it now has a nice clean rip where the shoulder seam should be together. In the face of danger all accessories are temporarily forgotten, oh well, you didn’t even like the dress anyways, to constricting.

“Hate to be the boring one, guys, but, uh, it’s time to get the hell out of here.” Says Lila as she walks into view from behind some bushes and a brick wall, continuing to walk past all of you until she reaches the pavement, stopping to turn around and usher you three to follow.

“When you say “we,” who exactly are you referring to?” Challenges Five.

“Not a lot of ambiguity in that sentence.” Replies Lila, shrugging him off.

“Listen, I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but whatever it is, I’d advise you return posthaste.” Five says, using that pushy tone of his again, done with Lila’s falsities.

“She’s right Five we gotta get outta here.” Mutters Diego, looking around slightly nervously.

“I just saved your life, you kinder-shit. If I hadn’t stepped in, all that would be left of you is a blazer and some bloody socks.” She snaps back.

“That’s the problem. You’re too good. You ask too many questions. You know too much. And you fight like you know what you’re doing.” Five says making a compelling point. You eye her up suspiciously.

“He’s not wrong.” You tell her, equally as conflicted as to who or what she truly is.

“So I know how to handle myself. And that makes me the bad guy?” She questions calmly like what we’re saying is absolutely ridiculous.

“Whoever you are, you’re in my way. If I see you again, I will kill you.” States Five seriously, with restrained anger flashing in his eyes as he gives her a last dirty look before walking away back to Elliot’s house.

Looking to you and Diego in disbelief, she turns to go walking a couple of feet before turning back to the both of you. “Guys come on we have to go.” She urges.

“I was getting my ass handed to me back there. You helped Five, not me.” He questions walking in closer to here accusingly.

“Because he’s a kid and you’re a man. Bloody act like one for god sakes, Y/N didn’t appear to need any help. If I remember correctly.” She says in defense, trying to get her point across without giving herself away.

Nodding Diego walks past her. You look up at her pleading eyes and look down for a second thinking of what to do. Making up your mind, you purse your lips together, walking past her as well.

“Y/N, really?” She pleads, knowing she’s losing the battle. You turn to her.

“I liked you Lila, you were fun to hang around with for awhile, I’ll admit. But we know nothing about you, and shits gotten weirder then ever. And right now I can sense that your lying to us, I wouldn’t even have to look at you to know that, I can practically smell it.” You explain to her without much remorse, you knew something was up after all, and nothing is getting in the way of your family’s safety. If she happens to be with the wrong people, that is.

You stare at her for a second more before turning around and following Diego. Tired of all the crazy shit you’d endured at the party.

“Oh, come on. Y/N? Diego? Really? You’re just gonna walk away?” She yells, as Diego starts to make a beeline for the woods. You ignore her calls as you jump over the thigh high stone wall and into the woods you go.

——

The next morning you and Diego get a surprise visit from Luther, someone whom you haven’t seen in a year and a half. After greetings are said, he walks in hungry as ever. So now here you are in Elliot’s kitchen as Luther makes himself a ridiculously large amount of scrambled eggs. You, Diego, Five, and Luther in the midst of a discussion on everything that’s happened up until now.

Smelling the delicious scent of scrambled eggs you sit on the kitchen table with your boots on the chair, looking between Diego and Luther who’s currently cooking said eggs at the moment. Watching as Diego paces back and forth heated about the ass kicking you, Five, and himself received last night.

“No, no, no, I don’t understand. They keep following me and Y/N. Those Dutch fuckers.” Diego points out, attempting to explain his thoughts to Five.

Wait, who?” Wonders Luther, trying to keep up with what’s going on.

“Some Swedish sociopaths.” You answer bluntly.

“Precisely Y/N, atleast one of you is paying attention.” Turning to Diego he continues, “They’re hired guns paid to eradicate us before we do anymore damage to the timeline.”

“Yeah, but why now? I mean I’m fine for three months until you showed up.” Diego growls, snapping his fingers angrily at Five’s unflinching form.

“Yeah, I was here for a year and no one messed with me.” Luther adds, focusing on the eggs he’s still cooking.

Pointing to Five you reply, “Luther’s got a point. I was here for almost two years and I haven’t been randomly hunted down by anyone. Then you show up and I get put in a choke-hold.” You say raising an eyebrow at him.

“Even if it was my fault, which it isn’t, we only have six days before the end of the world, and the closest anyone’s gotten to Dad was that driveway at the consulate.” Comments Five, glancing between the three of you.

Quietly Luther speaks up, “Well that’s not exactly true.” He says with a sigh, looking at the wall before turning to your guys’ confused faces.

“What do you mean?” Asks Five, stepping in closer.

“You didn’t?” He looks away from your prying gaze, he did.

“I saw him.” Luther says, looking nervously at you three, like a child getting caught with a frog in his pocket. He then proceeded to go on a long and boring story about how he traveled back to the Umbrella Academy, talked with Sir Reginald Hargreeves himself, only to get shot down and sternly told to leave. Of course that’s what was going to happen, idiot, he doesn’t even know who you are.

Sitting to Luther’s right and Diego to his left with Five in a chair to your back left. You slouch leaning your arms against the table, propping your head up with your right arm, as you lean against the wall. Listening to the two converse about his misfortunes.

“That’s pathetic.” Diego tells Luther bluntly.

“Yeah, well at least he didn’t shank my ass.” He mumbles, mouth full of scrambled eggs.

“No, bro, he shanked your heart.” Diego says in the most sincere voice you’ve heard in awhile.

Snorting with amusement from your side of the table, you add bluntly, “Well it wouldn’t be the first time.” Gaining a chuckle from Diego and an eye roll from Five.

“Mhm, hilarious.” Luther replies sarcastically, continuing to scarf down more eggs.

Walking into the doorway to the kitchen, Elliot stops, looking confused at Luther. “Is that my bathrobe?” Staring up at him like a deer in the headlights he says innocently, “No”

“Look, who cares what he shanked? He knows something about time travel.” Interrupts Five, talking to the three of you.

“Uh, wait, why don’t we just do your thing and, uh, time travel us out?” Wonders Elliot.

Standing up visibly frustrated, not really caring enough to explain himself anymore, Five asks the three of you sitting down. “Anyone care to explain?”

Luther looks up at Elliot ready to clarify why, “First time he tried, he got lost in the apocalypse.” Diego adding, “Second time, he ended up without hair on his balls.”

“Last time I tried it, I scattered my family across three years in Dallas, Texas, possibly triggering a doomsday.” Five says, while making himself a cup of coffee. “Anymore questions, Elliot?”

“Uh, no.” Studders Elliot, finally getting the point.

“You’re all missing the big picture. Dad is the ringleader of a sinister cabal that’s planning to kill the president.” Diego says sternly.

“A cabal?” Luther asks, confused again.

“Ignore him” You tell Luther, earning a glare from Diego, you smile at him innocently.

“Look, the way I see it, we only have one option.” States Five.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Questions Luther, half sarcastically.

“It’s time to get the Umbrella Academy back together.” Five says in all seriousness.

“Hell yeah, family meeting.” Diego grins, looking at you, you lift an arm up in reply.

“Why not?”

——

Sitting in the upstairs area near the balcony are Diego, Luther, Vanya, and Elliot, who’s trying to explain the workings and history of jello to everyone. No one really caring enough to listen to his rambling about how it’s made. Meanwhile, you stand looking down at the doors in excited anticipation for your long lost friends.

You listen as they bicker from behind you, Diego still salty about getting the life sucked out of him by Vanya’s energy tentacles, finally they make their peace and you smile to yourself. Proud that he’s matured a bit since then, knowing old Diego probably wouldn’t even be talking to her right now. Hearing the sound of a bell ring, you look up to the doors and spot Five, Allison, and Klaus making their way inside. Shouting their own greetings not catching sight of the rest of you just yet. Now finally looking up, they spot the four of you and shock instantly arrives on their faces, everyone looking at each other with dumbfounded smiles.

“Oh, wow. I know this is impossible, but, did we all get sexier?” Klaus wonders his eyes landing on each of you. You smile at him, missing his stupid humor.

The four of you walk quickly down the steps, grateful to have the whole family back together again. You rush up to Klaus, engulfing him a bear huge. “I missed my partner in crime.” You tell him smiling like an idiot. Breaking away, still holding onto your arms he adds, “Ah my dear, how I’ve missed our Friday night margarita parties.” Smiling at you, Diego then comes in for a brotherly greeting himself. “Oh, you are drunk.”

“Yeah. No, just a little...just a few.” He says glancing at you for a second. You grin shaking your head at him, typical Klaus. He then turns to participate in a group hug with Vanya and Allison. You speed walk over, stretching your arms along with him, engaging in the friendly hug as well. Collecting yourselves together again, you stand back grateful for everyone still being alive and well.

“Klaus. Is Ben here?” Five questions, gathering the attention of everyone.

Putting a hand on his hip he casually says, “Oh, uh...no. No, unfortunately, ghosts can’t time travel.” He says, as he looks around to all of you, avoiding your gaze. You then hear an oddly aggravated whisper as the air pricks with static. Only you notice it, turning to the empty chairs you smirk. You know Ben’s here. Even though you can’t see the dead like Klaus can, whenever he’s around you and as long as he’s not to intoxicated, are you able feel the presence of the ghosts that follow him.

“Y/N is this true?” Five asks you, not completely believing him.

Winking at the chair you turn back to Five, glancing at Klaus for a second. As he rolls his eyes at you. “Everyone’s accounted for. Alive. And dead.” You state.

“All right, then. Let’s get down to business.” Five ends with, starting to walk up the stairs. Never one to mess around for too long, huh.

——

Everyone stares at Five as he begins to apologize for stranding us all here in the 60′s. Then he goes on to confirm about this new apocalypse and whatnot. Surprising Klaus, evidently leading to the discovery of his cult that he apparently somehow started, not that you’re that stunned, if we’re being honest.

Five then shows the picture of Sir Reginald standing on the grassy knoll, Diego fully believing him to be the cause of Kennedy’s death, and Five saying it could be something else entirely. You agreeing with the the more probable explanation of Fives. He does express the fact that no one really knows shit about anything quit yet either, so how could we know it’s actually Reginald on the grassy knoll.

Diego then starts rambling about how the assassination and the apocalypse have to do with their dad, yet again. Five cutting in with his own calculated approach.

“But we know something changes the timeline, we have to make this right.”

“Yeah, but how, if we don’t know what’s broken?” Adds Allison, who’s sitting next to Vanya on the couches large plushy armrest. Klaus sipping a glass of beer or something of the like behind them.

“Come on, do the math. We know Dad’s having shady-ass meetings with some shady-ass people. We know he’s on the grassy knoll in three days to kill the president.” He says looking at everyone, trying to convince them. “So I think we know what we have to do.” He says, walking over to Five after delivering that dramatic line.

Both of them speak at the same time.

“Find Dad.” Says Five.

“Kill Dad.” Says Diego, with slight aggression, your eyebrows raise in surprise.

Everyone looks up at him, confusion clearly written on every single one of your faces. You honestly weren’t expecting Diego to throw the whole ship out to sea. He wants to kill the old fart huh, yeah that’s not gonna fuck up the timeline or anything.

“None of us are supposed to be here, right? I mean, what if it’s us? Has anyone here done anything to screw up the timeline?” Questions Vanya who gets nothing but  nervous glances from mostly everyone. You included.

“Diego and Y/N, have been stalking Lee Harvey Oswald.” Blurts out Luther.

“I was an unwilling accomplice.” You retort, sneering at him.

“And you’re working for Jack Ruby.” Diego cuts in defensively.

Klaus speaks up adding, “Allison has been very involved in local politics.” He says, while laying comfortably on the couch.

“Okay, you started a cult.” She snaps back.

“And I’m a nanny on a farm. I don’t have anything to do with all of that.” Vanya says calmly.

“Well, maybe you do, we just don’t know yet.” Allison adds.

Diego whistles bringing the attention of everyone back to him. “Listen to yourselves. Everything in our new lives is connected to Kennedy. That can’t be a coincidence. Luther works for Ruby, Allison is protesting the government, Dad is on the grassy knoll, Klaus is...” he pauses for a second. “Doing something weird and pervy but probably related. See, clearly we were all sent back here for one special reason: saving John Fitzgerald Kennedy.” Diego rambles completely serious about his mindset on Kennedy and the real reason why you are all here. I’m in love with an idiot, you think. Opening your mouth to state your opinion, the rest of them doing the same. Five sits back in thought, sick of all his siblings and yours nonsense.

Sitting up quickly, Five interrupts sadly, “Guys, you all die. Even Y/N. I was there. I saw it. And I wanna forget it, but I can’t.” Everyone shuts up listening to him talk about the end of the world. “I saw Russian nukes vaporize the world with all of you in it...in a war that never happened until we brought it here. And Hazel gave his life to save us, so you may need to shut up and just listen to me.” Everyone looks on concerned and nervous, letting the hard truth about the future set in. “I don’t know if things we’ve experienced here are all connected. I don’t know if there’s a reason for everything. But Dad will. We need to talk to him before everyone and everything we know is dead.”

Pondering the words Five just said to everyone, Luther suddenly gets up. “Okay, I’m out.”

Frustrated Five raises his voice, “Did you even hear me, Luther?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. I heard a 58-year-old man who still wants his daddy to come and fix everything. Well you can count me out. It’s time we all grew the hell up.” Grumbles Luther, frustrated with everyone and the idiotic idea of going to Sir Reginald for help.

Standing behind the opposite couch of Allison and Vanya, you turn to Five vexed by what he just told you, raising your voice slightly. “Did you get knocked on your head as a child, I mean all of you, seriously? When has Sir Reginald-stick-up-his-ass-Hargreeves ever legitimately helped us do anything?” You pushed, trying to make a point. “Even though I thought I’d never say this actual sentence in my entire life, I’m with Luther. Fuck that old monocle wearing dipshit. I’m out.” You huff pissed off. How could they all actually agree to meeting up with him, like he’s gonna talk it out and everyone’s gonna be A-Okay again, no way. You lived in the Umbrella Academy for seven years. It wasn’t what one would call, a walk in the park.

Everyone’s eyes are on you by the time you’ve finished your passionate rant, all looking very perplexed by your outburst. Your opinionated eruptions aren’t anything new, as you’ve always stood up for yourself and what you believe in, but. You sadly understood that even as grown up as they all are, they still seek guidance in the old man. Luther’s right, it’s time they’ve all gotten their shit together.

“Alright then.” Luther adds turning to walk towards the stairs, you hot on his tail. Hearing the calls from everyone else for you two to come back, you ignore them. Even when Diego gets up, questioning the both of you.

“Don’t.” You glare at him darkly, not wanting to hear any more bullshit about JFK or Reginald.

In a flash, Five teleports directly in front of Luther, blocking your exit down the steps.

“No one leaves until we figure this out.” Five says, a stern expression on his determined face.

Sighing, Luther grabs his uniform, picking him up and throwing him off the staircase. Where Five teleports somewhere before he can hit the hard, tiled floor below.

——

Walking down the side street, next to Luther you keep your eyes forward not wanting to hear anything Diego tries to tell you. Taking the hint, Diego decides to talk to Luther instead. “What’s going on with you, big boy?”

“Ugh, leave me alone, Diego.” Grunts Luther, keeping his eyes forward and locked onto the street ahead of him.

“Huh? So, what, you’re just gonna sucker punch Five and haul ass, huh.” Looking to you, he continues not being able to stop himself. “And don’t even get me started on you, I mean really, you follow me around and then decide to throw in the towel.” He questions dangerously, honestly a bit annoyed that this whole time you were never really on board for saving the president.

You roll your eyes, about to let him have it. “I’m not stepping anywhere near that old fuck. We could handle ourselves, if the rest of you weren’t complete fucking idiots.” You snap.

Grumbling something incomprehensible, he turns to Luther. “You got a legitimate reason for walking out on us?”

“Look, maybe trying to stop doomsday is exactly what starts it. Did you ever think of that?” 

“Oh, so we do nothing? Since when are you a quitter?” Challenges Diego.

“Since the last time I destroyed the world by overestimating my own importance.” Luther exclaims, defensively.

“So this is about you never living up to the old man’s expectations bullshit, huh?” Says Diego, trying to keep up with the two of you who are walking quit briskly down the side street.

Luther scoffs, “Maybe. I don’t know, I mean we’re all crazy where Dad’s concerned.”

“Oh, I’m not.” Adds Diego smiling. Yeah okay hot stuff keep telling yourself that, you think, forcing yourself to hold it in. “He’s an asshole. I’m awesome, and Y/N would agree with me too, if she wasn’t so moody. It’s all very simple. You have to understand that, okay?” Diego says smartly, so damn sure of himself.

Stopping at the sidewalk you cross your arms turning to Diego. “So why can’t you leave JFK alone then, hmm?” You look up expectantly, raising an eyebrow as wait for the truth.

He pauses for a moment, “I’m a hero. Heroes stop crime.” He tells you earnestly, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Shaking your head at him you take a deep breath, Luther coming to your aid. “No, no, no. No, Dad told you you’re a hero. Right? He told all of us. But what if he lied? What if we’re just a bunch of freaks who have no business changing the world.” Shouts Luther.

“No, everyone changes the world, Luther. Everyone. And it’s scary, but that’s kinda the deal. You know, your so goddamn big, sometimes I forget what a sensitive bastard you are.” Making eye contact with you he continues, “It’s all gonna work out. We’re on the right path.”

“You sound like a religious cat poster.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?” Asks Luther confused and frustrated.

Deciding to draw their attentions to something more important, you state an unseen but obvious fact, one that you’ve been silently tracking since the three of you left Elliot’s place. “Hey dipshit’s, there’s a long black car that’s been following us since we left Elliot’s.” They look at you confused for a second. “Six o’clock.”

Luther turns around as a mysterious black vehicle rolls up to you three. The driver getting out and pulling a piece of paper from his inner suite pocket. Handing it to Diego, who takes it cautiously.

Cutting it open with one of his knifes, he begins to read it aloud, “To my pursuers: I, Reginald Hargreeves...request the pleasure of your company for a light supper on the 20th of November, 1963, half past seven o’clock, 1624 Magnolia Street.” He finishes, looking up at the two of you.

“A light supper?” Luther wonders.

Luther and Diego then turn to you, Diego with a dumb smirk plastered across his face, you roll your eyes and hang your head back in defeat. “Goddammit.” You deadpan.

“Anyone hungry?” Luther randomly asks, you guessing it’s his attempt at lighting up the mood.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #number two #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories

[oh-theatre]

I Have to Tell You Something

A/n: HEHE I SUCK AT WRITING BUT I LOVE LOGICALITY AND THOUGHT I WOULD WRITE THIS ON A WHIM ANYWAY ENJOY THIS TRASH

Warnings: medical talk, no happy ending, angst but it has some comfort! Ask to tag

“How do you always look so beautiful in the morning?” Logan mumbles through his kiss as he places a gentle one on Patton’s cheek. He flops back onto his pillow sighing, Patton lays stiff.

“Logan we have t-“ he begins quickly getting stopped by Logan

“I can’t even look at you” He turns his back to his partner laughing as he makes a joke of his antics. Patton gives him a weak smile unsure of how much longer he can hold onto. “But I have to so I can do...this” Logan whispers the last part as he cups Patton’s face giving him a kiss, the breath leaving Patton’s body “Now come, I’m going to make you the most delicious food you have ever had the pleasure of tasting” he quickly leaves the warmth of their bad, his hair a mess as he places his glasses on his gruffly face. Patton admires him for a moment, the faded navy blue shirt rested on his waist scrunched with the grayest sweatpants all bunched up.

“Hold on” Patton sat up, bringing the blanket with him “Just give me a second ok?” He requested, his efforts were futile as he watches Logan’s mind already wandering. His boyfriend crawled onto the bed once again taking Patton’s lips on his own.

“Breakfast” he smiled, a smug excitement as he bounced off the bed and into the loft.

“Breakfast” Patton repeated, rubbing his face vigorously he took his own glasses and hesitantly followed Logan. He sat at the kitchen counter whilst Logan had already begun cooking.

“Coffee sunshine?” He offered Patton a cup, Patton gave him a lazy nod hoping the brewed drink would help him get through this. He was glad for the Saturday morning. Remus slept until noon, Virgil had already left for his morning shift. Now in the hazy living/kitchen area, with the sun finding its way through the curtains, was the perfect moment.

“So listen-“

“I smell food!” A third voice cried. Logan whipped around a giant smile plastered on his face. Remus strolled in giving Patton a kiss on the forehead. They had always shared this bond, a sibling one. Which of course extended to Roman, Remus’s actual brother. He took in the scene before humming as he leaned onto the counter. “Peaches, what’s better than Logan cooking?” He inquired from Patton

“Logan cooking breakfast” Patton responded meekly. A clap and bounce was his verification that that was indeed the answer remus was looking for. Patton forced a tighter smile, his patience and ability wearing thing. Of course he couldn’t fault his roommate, but when was he supposed to do it. Remus and Logan no doubt would be working on their project today, Patton had clients and tonight was Virgil and Romans engagement party. Speaking of clients, he watched his phone vibrate the metal counter. Logan and Remus paid no mind as they continued discussing the true meaning of breakfast. “Patton Foley of Foley Fashion speaking, how can I help?” He answered.

“Oh good, i thought I had written the number down wrong” he heard a familiar voice speak through the other end.

“Mister Voce” he recognized “How may I help you?”

“Oh please just call me Janus. I was just wondering if we still had our meeting today? About the outfit for the gala?”

Patton yawned rubbing underneath his glasses.

“Yes, twelve pm at Monsier Meals” he nodded, instinctively holding the phone away from his ear as an elated shriek was heard.

“Merveilleuse!” Janus replied “Thank you” and soon the phone was quiet.

“Breakfast is served!” He heard Logan announce. He walked back towards them watching as Remus took no survivors, allowing a hefty amount of food to grace his plate.

“I will be in my room watching the season finale of the bachelorette if you need me” he says before rushing away. Finally, this was Patton’s chance. The loft fell quiet as Logan and Patton sat across from one another eating their meal.

“You had something you wanted to talk to me about?” Logan reminded, for the first time this morning Patton’s heart stuttered.

“yeah um...look Lo i-“

Surely this was a joke, as if the universe was so hellbent on making Patton’s life difficult

“I’m not marrying him!” Virgil slammed the door. Logan and Patton shared a look, their eyes and nods a full conversation. After pacing with anger Virgil sat down with a drop next to Logan “what was I thinking, saying yes..to him” patton chuckled going to clean his dishes. Logan set his utensils down facing his friend.

“What now?” Logan asks expecting something minor, it was typical with the pair, they were perfect for eachother. Of course they were, but ever since they had met when Patton moved in and introduced the twins to the group, Virgil and Roman were set, game, match. Patton listened humming ever so gently, but the sudden sobs almost caused him to drop a plate.

“I-I can’t marry him!” Virgil gasps “He’s so fucking perfect and annoying and I love him!” He wasn’t typically like this in all fairness, but he was a sucker for romance...especially his own. “He came to my work today, he bought me flowers! He invited me to lunch!” Virgil shook furiously, Logan nodded not grasping what the problem was.

“What a horrible horrible man” Logan’s response fell flat. Virgil stood and began walking to his room, Logan knew he was meant to follow, he placed his dishes by the sink quickly. Before he could go he felt Patton tug his shirt pulling him gently. “Tonight I promise”

“Tonight” Patton begged. Logan gave him a careful kiss on the forehead, before smiling. “I love you starlight” Patton watches as his boyfriend ran after a rambling Virgil.

The place became clean once more, as if untouched. Patton debated going into his room but after walking by and hearing the raging fit Virgil was making he decided to work in the living room, after he showered.

It had been about fourth five minutes of design and putting together a portfolio for the meeting before Patton’s concentration was broken by the sound of his phone.

“Patton Foley-“

“Hello this is Doctor Mauras office, is this Patton Foley?” His heart dropped, he was unsure as to why he knew this was coming. He was hoping it would have gone differently, Logan by his side at least. He leaned back sighing as he massaged the nook of his nose.

“This is he”

“Mister Foley, you came in for check up the other day and doctor Maura wanted to run some extra tests is that right?” He knows the woman on the phone was doing her job but he wanted nothing more to rush this. Just tell me he could hear himself scream.

“Mhm”

“Right well I have the results here...” her tone wavered and Patton took note “from our tests we were able to conclude you have a grade one glioblastoma growing in your brain, it’s not as aggressive but it’s quickly getting to be a problem we have some treatment...” he heard her voice continue talking but nothing was processing the words just existed as his mind went blank. The nausea...the constant fatigue and weakness...his inability to comprehend things... What was he going to do? What was he going to tell Logan? “... even with all of that it’s an incurable condition”

He wanted to faint right there, pass out.

But his fear seized him. Would he ever wake up?

“Ok finally done with that..” Logan breezed into the room watching Patton instantly shut his phone. “Are you hiding a secret lover from me?” He teased expecting at least a giggle of amusement. But the way Patton’s face morphed...the small shake before his eyes were swept with a glossy look. Logan rushed to his side allowing him to collapse into sobs as he held him. “Patton...” but he couldn’t find the words, so gentle strokes and kisses of comfort was what he provided.

Glioblastoma..

Treatment options...

Hard to process...

Preparations should be made..

Can improve condition but...

A choked sob broke though

...it’s incurable

#sanders sides #youtube #Patton sanders #Logan sanders #Remus sanders #Virgil sanders #writing #write #my writing #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt comfort #fic #fiction #fan fiction #logicality #tw angst #tw medical

[snowdice]

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 10]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 2, 3, 4, and what I have of Chapter 5 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

It’s going to be stop and go for most of the night because a lot of things will interrupt me, but I hope to do a good amount of this today.

Chapter 2

The morning was just as torturous as Janus had expected it would be. He chewed through another pop-tart, this time bothering to actually check and see that it was a cinnamon-sugar one and drank three cups of caffeinated orange juice. Then, he waved his hand through the air and selected the 1st saved location on his device. He popped up directly behind his desk where he’d been standing the night morning before.

Someone, probably Remus, had shut his integrator down. He swiped a finger across the power button, and it flickered back on, scrolling through its morning start up routine.

 The machine scanned through all of the data in the three main system it was connected to and sorted all information into things that concerned him, could concern him, and did not before then sorting the first two categories into order of importance. As it did, he set up his screen reader so he would hopefully not start the day with more of a migraine than he already had. It took about 3 seconds for everything to turn on and settle.

Sitting down in his desk, he dismissed the notification that Remus had finished and submitted the report from their mission the day before.

 A mission had been scheduled for him today, and the details were in his inbox. A piece time travel technology had been accidently dropped by an archology student in the 1890s during a trip. It was an earlier model of emergency time travel given to time travels that would dump them back into the Registration Office in the year they originated. It wasn’t extremely dangerous, but could pose some problems, especially if someone who didn’t know what it was activated it.

Surveillance agents had tracked it down and found that it had been picked up by a local and sold. Though no one from that time had known what it was, they had identified that it was made out of a precious metal and it had been crafted into an expensive necklace. Janus and Remus were supposed to retrieve it today. It had been pinpointed that the most opportune time for the extraction was 1923 during a masquerade ball held by those who had bought the necklace.

 It was a fairly low stakes mission. He wasn’t set to leave for another couple of hours, so he clicked through the rest of the important notifications and then set off to meet his missions coordinator, Rhi, in her office.

Rhi and Janus got along fairly well. She was a well put together woman who took her job incredibly seriously. It was fair as her job was to organize all information and materials from every other department and make sure the agents she was assigned to got and understood all of it. A mistake from her could lead to an agent’s death or something far worse.

 This, of course, made her relationship with Remus… interesting to say the least. Janus could never place whether they were nemesis, frenemies, or mortal enemies, and he doubted he would ever know.

“Okay, but it’s the 1920s America,” Remus was already in her office arguing when Janus arrived. “There were so many gangsters! I could be a gangster. I would make a fantastic gangster! Just give me a gun, a snazzy suit with a white hat, and a buttload of alcohol. I will be running Chicago with Al Capone in five minutes.”

“Al Capone didn’t become a crime boss until 1925 and you are going to 1923,” Rhi said, sounding bored, “you aren’t going to Chicago, and as I have already stated, your cover is already decided.”

 “But-”

“It is nonnegotiable, Agent Clockson,” she said firmly. Remus pouted, but seemingly accepted his fate.

“May I come in?” Janus asked.

“Please do,” Rhi said. “You have been to the 1920s before, correct?” she asked Janus.

“Yes ma’am.”

She tapped the screen on her desk in response. “In the last two years?”

“About two months ago,” he responded. She tapped something else.

“Any blacks, reds, or yellows?” she asked.

“All green.”

“Great. Do you need a refresher course on basic cultural or linguistic procedures?”

“No.”

She pushed one more thing and then swiped the check-in document over to him. He glanced at the report stating he’d had no incidents of any level the last time he visited the 1920s and had opted out of the optional refresher course, and then pressed his finger against the screen to sign it with his fingerprint.

 The document returned to her side of the desk automatically. “Okay,” she said swiping another document from her left over to be in front of her. She twisted her wrist to copy it and slide copies to Janus and Remus. “Here are exact details on the time, place, and event you are going to, as well as details about your cover.” Janus scrolled through his quickly. It wasn’t as detailed as some he’d had considering this was a brief in-and-out missing, but he still took care to memorize everything on the page.

As he and Remus read through their things, Rhi got to her feet and turned to the storage compartments behind her desk.

 She grabbed out two packages and when they’d both signed that they’d read and understood the paperwork, she slid them across the desk to them. “These have everything you need,” she said. “Clothes, money, and an invitation to the party you’re off to attend. You are to get changed now, have a last check in with costuming to make sure everything is in order, and then report to decontamination in 23 minutes. Your set to leave in 38 minutes. Any questions?”

“How much-?” Remus started.

“None, agent,” Rhi said.

“But-”

“No alcohol,” Rhi said. “It is the prohibition era in the United States anyway.”

“Like there’s not going to be alcohol at the rich people party,” Remus said sullenly.

She pressed her lips together. “It is an in-and-out mission,” she said to both of them, and then turned to glare at Remus. “Do not get arrested.”

 “I don’t know,” Remus said joyfully. “I think I still have room for a 1920s mug shot on my wall.”

“Behave,” she said, “or I’ll report you for the cat you smuggled in from the 1800s.”

“You’d never,” Remus said. “You enjoy the cute pictures of Diesel Fuel I send you every day too much, and you know it!”

“Just… don’t get arrested.” She turned to Janus. “Don’t let him get arrested.”

“I’ll do my best,” Janus promised, standing. “Now come on, Remus, we need to get changed.”

“You just want to see me naked,” Remus replied with a wink, but he did stand.

 “If I see you naked one more time in my life Remus, my eyeballs will fall out of their sockets,” Janus said, waving to Rhi as he pulled Remus out of the door.

“Kinky.”

Janus’s eyeballs almost did fall out right then and there with how hard he rolled them.

They got changed quickly, Remus complaining and saying if he couldn’t dress like a gangster, he should at least be allowed to wear a flapper dress. Janus had long ago learned to ignore his ramblings. He did seem enthused about the included mask for the masquerade. It was a silver fox shaped mask with green accents that reminded Janus of the Egyptian God Anubis.

 Janus’s own mask on the other hand, was only designed to take up the left half of his face. It was mostly golden with a black swirled design. Attached to the side there was a plume of golden tipped white feathers. He had to give it to the costuming department, they did have good taste.

Once they were both dressed, they were poked and prodded by one of the costumers to make sure everything was accurate, fit right, and had been put on correctly.

After that, they went to the decontamination area to have themselves and everything they were taking with them sterilized so they didn’t accidently take any pathogens to the 1920s. They also received an oral vaccination to be sure they didn’t pick up anything from the 1920s and bring it back.

Then they were ready to go. The correct time-space coordinates had already been sent to their timepieces. With a push of a button, they were off.

  Inciting Incident

Chapter 3

Janus and Remus both appeared at the same moment a couple of feet apart in what looked like the inside of a garden shed. There was already a man waiting for them a few feet away. “Sup babes,” Remy said, just like he always did. The T-Agent looked their costumes up and down and whistled. “Now that,” he said, “almost makes me want to be one of you time jockeys.”

“They wouldn’t let me have a gun or a canister of moonshine,” Remus pouted.

Remy snorted. “Sorry, babes, but that makes my job a lot easier. If I’ve gotta fish you outta the 1920s criminal justice system, I’d rather it not be because you shot someone on accident ‘cause you don’t know how to use the safety.”

 Remus groaned dramatically. “Everyone is lame.”

Remy just shook his head. “Meet back here when you’ve got the necklace,” he said. “Don’t make a move until after 11:05pm and before 11:17. That’s your window.”

“We know,” Janus said. “See you then.”

“Have fun at the party boys,” Remy said and then lowered his shades to look at Remus, “but not too much fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Remus, already towing Janus out of the garden shed. The way had been specifically cleared for them, so they met no other people before they’d rounded the house the party was taking place and had gotten onto the driveway in front of the house.

 Without missing a beat, they strolled up to the front of the house, just as a car pulled into the end of the driveway. Janus rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, a man who was clearly the butler answered the door. They handed over their invitation, and the man immediately let them in.

The party had already started when they slipped into the medium sized ballroom that had been decked out in streamers and other decorations. Janus’s nose immediately wanted to scrunch as the smell of sweat from all the dancing already going on as well as the too strong perfume meant to cover that stench wafted over him. It was by far not the worst smelling time period, but he was pretty sure some people still weren’t aware deodorant had been recently invented.

 He checked his time piece which had been disguised as a fancy wristwatch for this trip. “Okay,” he said. “We have about two hours before we need to make our move. We should…”

Remus’s attention was already being dragged away by a young man who seemed to be providing guests with food. “I’m going to go ‘mingle’,” he said, winking.

“No!” Janus hissed. “Re- Richard! No!”

Yet, he was already disappearing into the horde of stinky bodies, likely to go scandalize a bunch of rich folks, and leaving Janus alone. Janus mumbled a curse under his breath that he was sure no one around him would understand even if they could make it out.

 Unsure what to do with himself, he wandered over towards where the live musicians were playing jazz music, being sure to keep out of the way of the dancers. He was edging around the makeshift dancefloor, when one of said dancers must have misstepped and knocked into another one. The second man stumbled right towards Janus, arms pinwheeling. Janus reached out on instinct to catch the man as he fell.

There was a moment where the two of them just stared at each other, surprise evident on the other man’s face. He was wearing a mask that just covered the area around his eyes and the top of his nose, revealing a smattering of freckles across his cheeks that Janus imagined extended to his nose.

 The mask was a light blue velvet with a flower stuck on the side near his right ear, and a trail of curled golden ribbon bobbed down around his chin. The party continued on around them, a blur of movement and sound.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked.

The man blinked up at him and then tilted his head slightly to the side as though confused, before a smile slowly grew on his face. “Oh, I’m fine Dove.”

“Dove?” Janus asked.

He giggled. “You have dove feathers on your mask,” he explained, reaching up a hand to touch one. His finger brushed the tip of Janus’s ear, “and I don’t know what else I am supposed to call you.”

 “My name is Lee,” he automatically lied.

“Is it?” he asked, sounding amused. “Doesn’t seem to fit you well. I like Dove better.”

“Oh?” asked Janus. “And what’s your name so I can not call you that?”

The man chuckled. “Call me Pat.”

“Hello Pat,” Janus said.

“I thought you didn’t want to call me by my name.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hmmm,” Pat said, finger tracing idly across Janus’s forearm which was when Janus realized with a start that he was still holding the man in his arms. He quickly went to release him, which Pat allowed with clear amusement.

 Yet, instead of completely stepping away, Pat grabbed Janus’s arm. “What are you doing all the way over here by the way?” he asked. “Don’t you want to dance.”

“Oh,” Janus hesitated. “I don’t really dance.” Or at least not in the way the people around him were. He’d had basic training for this style, but it had been a while and he was a bit rusty.

“Everyone dances Dove,” Pat claimed. “At least if they know the steps and have the right partner.”

“But I don’t know the steps,” Janus said with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed. “Well, I know the dance pretty well by this point,” Pat said. “Why don’t I teach you how it goes.”

 He was agreeing with the soft beseeching tone before he even realized it. Pat pulled him into the middle of the throng of people. He seemed to think, bopping his head to the music playing for a moment, before looking back at Janus. “Heard of James Johnson?”

Janus inclined his head.

“Well, have you heard his new song? Because there’s a dance that goes with it.”

He took a few steps away from Janus and started to dance. Despite his claim to know the steps, he wasn’t particularly good, but he made up for any loss of rhythm with pure enthusiasm.

 Janus found himself smiling at the man, and after a few moments, joined in with the dance. Despite his lack of practice, he ended up having a better natural rhythm than Pat. Pat didn’t seem to mind that he was being outperformed, however. On the contrary, he giggled at himself the couple of times he stumbled.

When he fell into Janus’s arms for the second time that night, Janus decided he’d probably had enough dancing for the moment and pulled him off to the side to get something to drink and cool down a bit.

He watched the man take a snack and some punch from one of servers and thank him happily before turning back to Janus. Pat was easily able to keep Janus’s attention as they chatted. He was bubbly and soft, and Janus found himself enchanted as they talked.

 He was explaining the steps of a different dance, a couples one. “Knowing how to perform the tango will entrance any girl you want,” Pat said, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. “Assuming you’re that type of fella.”

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked.

Pat leaned in a bit closer. Not too much, but enough that he was definitely in Janus’s space. “A different type of fella,” he said simply, before smiling and leaning back.

Janus let out a shaky exhale and took a sip of punch. He glanced over at Pat. “Tell me about yourself, Pat,” he said.

Pat hummed in contemplation. “Well, I went to France recently.”

 “You did?”

“Oui, c'était amusant, mais j'ai eu des ennuis”

“What kind of trouble?” Janus asked curiously.

“Oh, the kind with a pretty boy and crepes that were way too sweet. Anyway,” he continued. “Other than that, I mostly help out my friend. He’s an inventor.”

“And how do you help him.”

He shrugged, “Running errands mostly, and making sure he gets enough sleep, because otherwise he gets distracted and forgets. And you?”

“I’m a banker,” he said, remembering his cover, but felt compelled to add, “but I like to travel as well.”

“You do look the type?”

“And how is that?”

   Pat shrugged. “I can always tell a wandering spirt from the masses, and you are easy to spot.” Pat looked at him then with a secret smile on his face, and Janus felt suddenly known, like the man in front of him had known him for years even though they’d only just met. Looking at him then, he wanted suddenly for that to be fact and not a flight of fancy.

He was brought firmly back to reality in the next moment. “Lee,” a pointed and familiar voice said. Janus’s head snapped up to see Remus, staring at him. He tapped his wrist. Janus glanced at his own wrist: 10:58pm. He just barely managed not to curse.

 “I,” he said looking up at Pat. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“That’s okay,” Pat said easily. “It is getting rather late.”

“Yes,” Janus agreed. “Well… goodbye.”

Pat, titled his head, a half smile on his face. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Janus nodded, and turned away from him towards Remus. He didn’t look back as they excited the ballroom. They snuck into a small side closet for coats that wasn’t being used as it was summer.

“So,” Remus said when the door closed behind them.

“Don’t,” warned Janus.

“I’m not one to judge,” Remus said.

“Shut up.” He glanced at his watch. It was 11:02. “We’ll go in 5.”

 “I have to give it to you. He was very cute.”

“We’re not talking about it.”

Remus just laughed joyfully, and Janus did his best to halt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

At 11:07, well into their window, they slipped back out of the closet, and towards the stairs as the party raged on.

Despite how Remus usually never shut up, he was able to be quiet when it counted. They snuck to the master bedroom of the home’s owners in silence. The door was already wide open by the time they got there, and Janus didn’t think anything of it. At least, he didn’t until they entered the bedroom, and there was someone already there.

 He turned from the dresser he’d been standing in front of to face them, sending Janus the same smile he had down in the ballroom. Janus and Remus both froze. “Sorry, sweetie,” Pat said. “Were you here for this too?” he held up the necklace they’d been sent for. He closed his fist around the charm made out of time travel tech.

“What?” Janus said.

Pat giggled and winked. “Unfortunately, I need it a bit more than you at the moment. So, I’m gonna have to go.” Janus stepped forward, not really sure what he was intending to do, but Pat just smiled. “See you some other time, my Turtle Dove.” With a snap of his fingers and loud crack, he disappeared. The mask he’d been wearing fluttered to the ground.

  Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

 Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

 “Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

 “Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

 He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

 “I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

 “Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

 “But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

 After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

 He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

 He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

 Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

 “It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

 “I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

 Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

 Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

 Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite the fact that it was late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. So, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

 The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time.

 Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you hear and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my question!” he called back to Remus.

 “It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

 “My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could go always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

 “Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

#study break stories #not writing

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

Today’s Variantology theme is Team Awesome, and wouldn’t ya know it, I have another fic for you! Hope you like!

*note: this fic takes place in an AU where Varian didn’t become the bad guy and instead moved into the castle after QfaD until he could figure out a way to save his dad. It takes place between season 1 and season 2* Also I don’t really have a title for it so I’ll just make one up now

A Late Night Chat

Eugene was sleeping soundly in his room in the castle. It had been another long day of helping Rapunzel try to figure out the mystery behind the black rocks, as well as tagging along with her as she did her usual princess duties. Life in the castle with the royal family of Corona was busy, and sometimes it was a little crazy, but he couldn’t ask for a better life than what he had now. He considered himself incredibly luckily to even be in the same kingdom as Rapunzel, let alone to live with her in the castle. It was a charmed life for sure. As Eugene lay on his bed dreaming his cozy dreams, he suddenly felt his slumber be interrupted by a knock at the door. Shaking himself awake, he sat on his bed rubbing his eyes, wondering if he’d even heard the sound right. After a few moments, another knock tapped on the door.

“Who is that trying to wake me up this late?” Eugene muttered to himself as he felt around in the dark for the oil lamp he kept on the bedside table. “I bet it’s Cass,” he grumbled as he finally found it and switched it on. “Doesn’t she know not to interrupt me when I’m trying to get my beauty rest?” Eugene grabbed the lamp and went to the door. Opening it and looking out, he at first saw nothing. Holding the lamp up to Cass’ height and expecting her to be there, he was startled when he heard a voice that most definitely did not belong to her.

“Uh, Eugene?”

“Gah!” Startled, Eugene almost dropped the lamp but he managed to catch it before it could fall to the ground and wake the whole castle with its clatter. He held the lamp out again, this time a little lower, and its light illuminated the young face of Varian standing in front of him. His hair was a bit messier than usual and his soft blue eyes were tired. He was wearing a faded blue shirt, pants that went down to a little bit above his ankles, and white socks with gray patches on the heels. One of them was pulled up a little higher than the other, with the other sock starting to slip down his foot just a bit. When he saw Eugene acting startled, he held his hands up and stepped back a little.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Eugene had grown accustomed to seeing Varian a lot more frequently now that he lived in the castle with them, and more specifically right next door to Eugene, but he still wasn’t expecting to see the young alchemist so late at night. Eugene took long calming breaths after startling himself.

“Oh, Varian, it’s just you.” He held the lamp up and looked him up and down. “I hardly recognized you without your goggles and gloves. Don’t you know what time it is?”

“S-sorry.”

“What are you doing up so late?”

“I, uh, I just-“ Varian shuffled his feet awkwardly and sighed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” With the light of the lamp, Eugene could see that Varian was trying not to meet his eyes and he had a look on his face like there was something bothering him, or at least something on his mind. He looked pretty tired from the late hour, but mostly he just seemed a little unhappy. Understanding, Eugene moved out of the way of the open door. “Oh. Uh, well, do you want to come in then? Maybe talk about it?”

Varian nodded softly, still not meeting his eyes, and entered Eugene’s room. Eugene closed the door behind him and set the oil lamp down on the bedside table and turned it up brighter and lit a few candles to give the room additional light. Varian stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not moving to sit anywhere, rubbing his right arm nervously. Eugene sat on the edge of his bed, watching the boy.

“What’s on your mind, Varian?”

“Well, lots of things,” he replied. He started rambling off, going about a mile a minute. “I’m a scientist so I’ve always got something on my mind. Especially with these rocks. I mean we still don’t know what they are or where they’re coming from and no matter what I try my alchemy just can’t seem to break them. And I’ve been charting their growth and they seem to be spreading at an exponential rate, so that’s a concern of mine. And then there’s Rapunzel with her hair. I don’t know what that’s about or how she’s connected to them but it’s very unusual, and-“

“Varian,” said Eugene calmly, interrupting his rant. He knew exactly what was going on. After all, he’d been a young boy once too. He knew Varian was trying to sidestep over what was actually bothering him. Varian stopped his rambling and made himself look at Eugene, and Eugene looked him in the eyes knowingly. “What’s really bothering you?”

Varian sighed and hung his head low.

“It’s...it’s my dad. I just can’t stop thinking about him.”

Eugene looked at Varian with sympathy as he continued his thought.

“He’s been stuck in that crystal for a while now. I’ve tried lots of things to set him free but nothing seems to be working. And the more I try, the more I’m reminded of what a failure I am, and how reckless and irresponsible I was to disobey him when he told me not to mess with the rocks. I just wanted to...to prove myself to him. That I’m not just a screw up. That I can figure out a way to get rid of the rocks and save my village. I just wanted him to be proud of me for once. But now, all I really want is for him to be back. I just...just miss him.” He wiped a tear from his eye and glanced up just in time to see Eugene looking at him. Feeling embarrassed, his face turned a bright shade of pink and he looked away awkwardly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all emotional like that. I know I should probably try to be a bit stronger about this.”

“No. No, Varian,” said Eugene, his voice warm and kind. He got off his bed and put his hands on Varian’s shoulders and knelt down onto the floor so that he could match Varian’s height. “Don’t apologize for feeling emotional. That’s totally normal. It’s not healthy to suppress your feelings. You don’t have to put on a brave face and act tough. You’re not very good at acting tough anyway,” he said in an affectionately teasing manner.

“I know,” Varian replied, cracking a slight smile and letting out a little awkward laugh. Eugene continued.

“No, but seriously. What you’re going through, that’s a very difficult thing. I can understand why it would keep you up at night. Nobody should have to deal with what you’re dealing with. And uprooting yourself to come here and stay in the castle, that was probably a very hard decision, and you’re brave for making it. Don’t be embarrassed for feeling sad about what happened. Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you didn’t miss him.”

“It’s just, he’s the only family I have left. My mother passed away when I was very young. I barely remember her anymore. Without him, I’ve got no one. I’m all on my own. And I’m not a little kid, I can handle myself, but-“

“You don’t want to be alone,” Eugene finished. Varian looked up at him. Eugene shook his head in understanding. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It’s hard to tell because of my roguish charm and confident personality, but I was a lot like you growing up.”

Varian smirked at him for his comment, but he listened as Eugene finished his story.

“See, you thought me and Flynn Rider from the books were the same person, but that’s just not true. ‘The Tales of Flynnigan Rider’ books were just something that I adored as a kid, and I would read one every night in the orphanage to all the younger kids.”

“The...the orphanage?” Varian asked, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yes. I’ve only told this story to two other people so you should consider yourself lucky that you’re hearing this. But I grew up in an orphanage. I was put there as a baby. I never knew who my real parents were, or if they were even still around. I always imagined they were these great adventurers, and that one day they’d come back and find me. But they never did, and no one ever wanted to adopt me. It was hard, growing up feeling lonely all the time. Never having answers about my parents and wondering why no one seemed to want me. I felt alone very often. But I loved the Flynn Rider books and the way that he could travel around doing whatever he wanted to do with no worries, just a life of adventure. He wasn’t a thief, but for a kid with nothing, I guess it just seemed like the better option. No one ever seemed to be coming, so my buddy Lance and I struck out on our own when we were about your age. I took the name from the books, and the two of us started our life of crime. Now I’m not telling you this to condone the idea that we were right in our actions. I know that being a thief was wrong. I’m only telling you this so that you can know that someone understands how you feel. Afraid of being alone, always seeking approval from others, I know exactly where you’re coming from.”

“Wow. I had no idea,” Varian said softly. Eugene shrugged.

“I guess we all have some element of our past that we’d rather not discuss. But if we can use it to help others, then it’s worth it. The important thing to remember is that our pasts don’t have to define who we are. Whoever we were in the past, whatever decisions we made, it’s true that they shape us into the people we are, but we don’t have to let it rule our lives. We have the power to change. What happened in the past is over and done, but the future is ours for the taking, and it can be whatever we make it out to be. Maybe I was a lonely thief then, but now I’m an honest citizen surrounded by people that I love. You don’t have to be defined by your past either, Varian. You are not a failure and you are not a screw up. You made a mistake, sure, but what matters is that you’re learning from it and you’re trying to fix it. Varian, you’re a good kid. A smart kid. I know that you’re gonna figure this thing out eventually. And until then, you don’t have to be afraid of being alone. You are surrounded by people who care about you. Rapunzel cares about you, Cassandra doesn’t have a soul but she still cares about you. And I care about you, too. And one thing I learned in the orphanage is that I hate seeing sad kids, so you better smile before you leave or this whole conversation will be pointless.”

“Thanks for talking to me, Eugene. It really did make me feel better.” Varian yawned and stretched his arms. “And you’re right. It is pretty late. I should probably get back to bed.” Varian walked over to the door and stood in the doorway for a moment.

“Goodnight, Eugene.”

“Hey, now, what about our agreement?” said Eugene.

“Oh, right,” Varian replied. He flashed him a quick grin, showing off his two little front buck teeth. Eugene smiled back at him and nodded.

“There we go! That’s better. Goodnight, Varian.”

He made his way out of the doorway and started to close the door behind him.

“And Varian,” Eugene called. Varian held the door open wider to catch what he had to say. “If you ever need to talk again about something that’s bothering you, or if you just want to talk about whatever, you know where to find me. You talk, and I’ll listen.”

Varian smiled and nodded, then closed the door softly behind him. Eugene sighed in relief for having helped the boy out. Then, with a yawn and a stretch, he blew the candles out and switched off the lamp as he gave himself back up to sleep.

And that’s it! Hope you enjoyed!

#tangled the series #rapunzels tangled adventure #tts varian #varian the alchemist #eugene fitzherbert #team awesome #variantology #project obsidian #projectobsidian

[cranehusbands]

for a charming guy, you suck at date nights

mirage | elliott witt/octane | octavio silva; established relationship; fluff; movie nights; adhd headcanons; 1388 words

a/n: 3 FOR 3! these just keep getting posted later and later, im so sorry about that, but i was trying out crossplay on apex today (!!!) and having a blast, i forgot how much fun this game can be with friends, hehe

anyways, day 3 for @apex-rarepairweek, movie night! featuring my very specific octane hcs about his hyperfixations where i am (we irritating) we Projecting. thank you again for these prompts guys, these were super fun!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “Uh, knock knock, comin’ through.” Octavio looked up, only just realising how badly he was chewing at his fingers as he saw Elliott struggling into the room, two drinks in hand and a bowl under his arm. “Oh, shit- sorry, didn’t hear you askin’ for help.” “You’re fine, babe, but thanks.” He gave a small smile of relief as the runner took the bowl from him, only for that to turn into a light scowl as he watched him scoop a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “C’mon, at least save it.” “S’good.” “Too hot?” Octavio didn’t reply, only slightly winced and turned away to put the bowl on the coffee table, and that was enough for the trickster to soften again, joining him on the loveseat (fitting, for a date night) as he slid the soda over to Octavio’s side, and kept the coffee for himself.

“You can sit down, you know that, right?”

The voice from the kitchen made Octavio look up from his shoes, kicking at the linoleum of the apartment’s entrance. He’d been standing there since Elliott had let him in a few minutes before, before he’d left to go make them drinks. “Uh, sí, just… waiting for you.”

“You, the Octane? Waiting? Thought hell’d freeze over before that happened.”

Though the legend scowled momentarily, hearing his boyfriend chuckle to himself from a distance was enough for him to relax the shoulders he didn’t know he was tensing, pulling his hands out of the pockets of his jacket to wring his hands. So he was a little nervous, sure. And he wasn’t coping well with it, yeah. But it was Elliott - just Elliott, not charming funny guy Mirage - and him here… though even that seemed like it was going to be a little too much.

 Like a lost and bewildered dog, he wandered into the living room, putting his bag down by the side of the sofa tossing his leather jacket across the back of it, fiddling with his gloves as he looked around. He’d been in this front room many times before, especially since they’d gotten together, though more often than not it had just been a segway to go out on a date, or further into the apartment, either option leading to a great time… but not tonight. Elliott wanted to stay in, do something cute (‘like normal couples do’ he’d said, as if they were anything close to normal), and had suggested watching a movie together. “You have a lot of those.” he’d chipped in, but he didn’t even know the half of it. 

 For a long time, Octavio had wasted his money on any old earth horror movie he could find. He had enough of it, seeing how as soon as he burned a hole in his pocket he earned back almost twice as much, but it made him happy - almost as happy as risking his life. He was sure Ajay was happy with the alternative, though impulsive spending was hardly an improvement. But for Octavio, the rush of happiness that came with another order or just watching the same movie over and over again was what he always needed, a tie over until the game the next day, or the stunt live on stream in the afternoon. 

 Maybe that’s why he was so wound up - he was baring his heart out here, and that wasn’t something he liked to do. He was the kind of guy to keep his cards close to his chest, and locked behind threads of chains, and the persona of a man who didn’t care what people thought of him, but still had no interests outside of what he did. And though, yes, the adrenaline rush and the cheer of the crowds was enough for him… movies like these kept him company on lonely nights with a nanny he didn’t care for, when his father had his nose too deep in work or another set of divorce papers.

 “Uh, knock knock, comin’ through.”

Octavio looked up, only just realising how badly he was chewing at his fingers as he saw Elliott struggling into the room, two drinks in hand and a bowl under his arm. “Oh, shit- sorry, didn’t hear you askin’ for help.”

“You’re fine, babe, but thanks.” He gave a small smile of relief as the runner took the bowl from him, only for that to turn into a light scowl as he watched him scoop a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “C’mon, at least save it.”

“S’good.”

“Too hot?”

Octavio didn’t reply, only slightly winced and turned away to put the bowl on the coffee table, and that was enough for the trickster to soften again, joining him on the loveseat (fitting, for a date night) as he slid the soda over to Octavio’s side, and kept the coffee for himself.

“So, you wanted to be in charge of picking, right?”

“Uh, heh… yeah.” He twiddled his thumbs a little, before reaching over the side of the arm to grab his backpack, self-branded and decorated with merchandise of himself and his fellow legends, zipping it open and showing the contents, almost entirely packed with old DVDs.

“Oh, uh… woah.”

“I… couldn’t decide.”

“Yeah, clearly.” Elliott chuckled a little, looking up at Octavio’s slight frown, which really didn’t sit right on his face. “N-not that that’s bad, it’s just very… fitting, for you. Well, let’s see ‘em and then come to a decm- decrom- ...we can pick together.”

 He did as he was told, slowly giving a basic synopsis of each movie he found, recalling odd details and memories he associated with each one, almost forgetting that when it came to these things, he always revealed his full hand and heart in his excitement.

“Oh, this one is a three-parter, kinda like Saw in that it got criticised a lot for being ‘torture porn’ - it’s not… actually porn, it’s just a term for movies with a lot of graphic violence - b-but the endorsement of the first one from this director dude really carried it to cult status with some people. Oh, this one’s a Wes Craven classic- he did, uh-”

“Uhhhh, Elm Street, and Scream, yeah?”

“Sí, sí! This one kinda flopped, though. I still think it’s neat. Little boring sometimes.” He shuffled in his seat a little, carrying on digging through his bag. “Ah, this is a good one! Aliens in the school faculty tryin’ to kill everyone. Oh, oh, and this one’s got alien’s too, but it’s like… British, so there’s that - think it was important back then, ‘cos of stereotypes and- ah, shit, I brought Saw 6 but not Saw 7, I didn’t bring ‘em all ‘cos the first one is boring-”

“Tav, Tav, relax, buddy. Catch a breath.” Elliott laughed, watching Octavio’s expression shift to one of embarrassment as he deflated a little, movies still in his hands, leg bouncing.

“...Sorry, mi amor, you probably don’t-”

“Hey, of course I care. C’mere.” He wrapped his arms around the runner before he could finish, leaning in to pepper his cheek with kisses, making the man giggle a little, though still somewhat sheepish from his unhinged ramblings. “You’re so cute when you get excited, you know that, right?”

“You remind me every day, amigo.”

“I better. Just look at you.” Giving Octavio a playful cheek pinch, Elliott only laughed when the gesture was returned in kind by a soft shove. “Listen, we have all the time in the world. Just you and me tonight, remember? Pick your favourite, and let’s go from there, for as long as we can go. Sound good?”

Octavio slowly nodded, leaning into his boyfriend’s touch, the tension in his body relaxing a little at the comfort, sifting through the rest of the DVDs that he could barely fit into his backpack before he pulled one out from the back, a small grin on his face, showing the pumpkin on the cover to Elliott. “This one?”

“Gotta love the classics. You know where the player is.”

He practically shot off the sofa, almost dragging Elliott with him with the force as he launched himself towards the TV cabinet, pulling open the glass door where the old DVD player sat and prying open the case, barely able to contain himself as he put the disc inside and watched the machine eat it up. He’d seen this movie thousands of times before, he practically knew it by heart at this point, and his impression of the final girl was top-notch, but somehow, he knew watching it with Elliott would be so much better.

 Octavio crawled his way back onto the trickster’s arms, resting himself against his chest with his knees curled up, brought closer by an arm around his shoulder. He felt a gentle kiss on the top of his head and grinned to himself, focused on the moving image on the screen, any worries he had before seeming to drain away. Elliott has that effect, it seemed - enough that in the fourth movie in, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, even the sounds of snuff film murder and screams down the phone not enough to wake them from a lover’s embrace.

#apex legends #apex rarepair week #miroctane #mirage #octane #dahl.doc #apex legends tag

[waveypedia]

Home is Wherever I’m With You [HDLW Sibling Week]

Day 1 - Adventure

Ao3

“You guys are gonna love this one!” Webby crowed, her face pressed against the glass of the plane window. “Della and I have crafted the perfect adventure. It’s full of traps, puzzles, and opportunities for daring stunts!”

“So what’s in store for us today?” Dewey called from the pilot seat. It was his first adventure as a solo pilot, even though he’d been taking lessons from Launchpad and Della for months. “Death-defying stunts? Villanous curses? Bad baddies?”

Webby grinned back at him enthusiastically. “We might see a sword horse!!”

Huey flipped through his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. “Statistically, the chances of us encountering a unicorn are little to none. From our travels, unicorns mostly reside in glades deep in forests. We’re flying over the tundra.”

Dewey pulled a hand off one of the Sunchaser’s contraptions to gently punch Huey in the shoulder. “Look at you, calculating the likelihood of a unicorn spotting. Nerd.”

Huey rolled his eyes and shut the guidebook. He leaned back in the copilot’s seat, where he was keeping a careful watch that everything was running smoothly - just like Donald when Dewey piloted solo during full-family adventures. “The numbers don’t lie.”

“But did you take snow sword-horses into account?” Webby asked, finally turning her attention away from their descent to look at Huey. “They’re incredibly rare, but they live solo lives out here in the tundra. They canter at the speed of the wind!! Some brave adventurers report sighting one, but no one can ever get proof.”

“Sounds like a glorified Bigfoot,” Louie offered from his place in one of the Sunchaser’s seats. 

“But we can fight it!!” Webby interjected enthusiastically. “And earn its trust!! They say if you do, it’ll grant you one piece of sage advice for your future.”

Dewey frowned thoughtfully. “Well, not many people can say they’ve been granted advice from a snow unicorn. Anyway, coming in hot!!”

The Sunchaser made a less-than-graceful landing (Launchpad was his teacher, all right), sending snow flying up in clouds of soft sparkles around them. The four kids grabbed their gear and buckled up the last of their snow-protective clothes before stepping out of the plane and onto the snow. Webby was first, and her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the terrain for a moment.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Webby exclaimed, gesturing to the expanse of snow sparkling brightly in the sunlight. “And to think! Today, we’ll be one of the first to see and conquer a real snow sword-horse!!”

Louie slipped a canteen out of his pack and took a sip of some hot chocolate he had saved. “Yep, looks pretty snow-y.”

Dewey punched a fist in the air. “I’m ready to fight a unicorn!!”

Huey snorted affectionately and pulled out his rusty, trusty compass, emblazoned with the Junior Woodchuck logo on the side. “We go north first, right Webby?”

Webby opened her backpack and took out a slightly torn map, tied with a piece of glittery pink string. She was nodding before she’d even unfurled the map, but it confirmed her answer. “Yep!! We go left until we hit the rock shaped auspiciously like a tornado, and then we turn right. And then, when we get to the lone pine tree hidden behind the stone hills, we walk in a circle three times around it and follow the sun!”

Huey frowned. “A rock shaped like a tornado? That’s an… interesting description.”

Louie raised his head to the sky and covered his forehead with his hand to block out the blindingly bright light, reflecting off the snow and clouds. “Uhh, Webs, we can’t see the sun.”

Webby shrugged, positive as ever. “No worries! All the legends say that won’t be an obstacle. We’ll figure it out when we get there!!”

Without further ado, the pink-adorned duck strode off in the direction of their adventure. “Let’s go!!”

Dewey followed quickly behind her, rambling excitedly about how fun it would be to fight a unicorn. Huey and Louie exchanged a glance and a shrug, and then tagged along.

As they walked, Huey tried to start off a round of some of the hiking songs he had picked up at the Junior Woodchucks, but was quickly rebuffed. However, when Dewey tried to start a rendition of “1,000 Bottles of Apple Juice on the Wall” (the Uncle Donald-approved version he regretted teaching Dewey when they were on a road trip when the boys were five years old), Webby and Louie were suddenly much more enthusiastic about Huey’s options. He was more than happy to oblige, and even got them going on some sea shanties when the tunes started getting overly repetitive. Dewey grumbled for a bit, but before long, Huey and Webby’s collective, contagious enthusiasm had infected him, and he was singing along as loudly and proudly as the rest of them.

When the tornado-shaped rock first came into sight, the group of four was lagging behind Huey’s precisely-calculated pace for the best optimal productivity on adventures. But the sight spurred Webby’s already-high excitement, and she nearly sprinted the rest of the way. 

When the rest of the group reached Tornado Rock, panting, Webby was leaning against it with barely contained enthusiasm. “Took you long enough,” she said cheekily, but with no malice and a beaming smile. 

Louie shrugged and flopped down on the ground. “Ugh, Webs, why’d you have to run? There’s no time limit.”

Webby shrugged, still beaming. “The spirit of adventure!” She checked her watch and sat gently on the ground next to Louie. “So, lunchtime?”

Dewey plopped down beside her, and Huey followed suit. “I thought you’d never ask!!”

Louie rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, we know, you were flying the plane, you didn’t get a chance to snack.”

Dewey ripped open his lunchbox and grabbed impatiently at the first thing he could - a sandwich. He opened the foil easily and stuffed it in his mouth. “I’m hungry, Louie!”

As his brothers squabbled in the background, Huey glanced up at the rock towering above them. “Huh, I guess it really is actually shaped like a tornado,” he conceded quietly as he unpacked his lunch. “Accurate description.”

Webby followed his gaze, tracing the grooves and cracks in the rock with her eyes. “Yeah. You know, Isabella Finch, Uncle Scrooge’s inspiration, was the one who named it!!”

Huey perked up. “Really? That’s interesting. I don’t think I remember an expedition to this specific tundra in her journals.”

Webby shrugged, smiling. “It was a group expedition with some other seasoned adventurers. George Mallardy, for one.”

“The guy that Uncle Scrooge sort of was responsible for his death?” Huey asked apprehensively, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not entirely sure I want to be following in his footsteps.”

“But they’re the only other people to accurately depict and record tundra sword-horses!!” Webby exclaimed, leaning forward. “Wouldn’t it be so cool if us, for our first solo adventure, were the ones to do it second?”

“I’d rather be first!!” Dewey called. 

Huey shrugged. “I guess so. I am curious about snow unicorns. If there’s only one depiction of them, even if it is from Isabella Finch, how do we know it’s accurate?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” Webby replied, her eyes sparkling.

The kids packed up their lunch, making sure to leave no trace behind, and continued on their trek. Webby tracked their progress with a map, watching carefully for the hills of stone that would eventually rise out of the fog. Snow started to fall gently while they walked, and Dewey made it a game to see who could catch the most snowflakes on their tongue. Soon they were all running in uneven paths and laughing - or laughing as best they could with their tongues stuck out. By the time the first gray hints of the stone hills crested out of the clouds, Louie was winning staunchly, but Dewey refused to be beat. He nearly fell forward into a snowbank, but stubbornly kept going.

Their amicable chatter died down as the hills came close enough to touch - and Webby did touch, reaching out a purple-gloved hand to wipe away a few errant flakes of snow. The group paused, speechless at the sheer size and gentleness of the rolling hills.

Webby took in a deep breath, in and out, making a large cloud of breath in the cold air. “Snow sword-horses, Isabella Finch’s legacy, here we come.”

With Webby in the lead, the four ducks rounded the hills and finally made their way into the small clearing in the middle of the stone. And found…

“Nothing,” Webby said, her word hanging in the quiet air. Surprise and disappointment were etched across her face as she stared at the empty clearing.

Huey, ever the Dad Friend, snapped out of his stupor first and stepped forward to lay a hand on Webby’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Maybe we made a mistake.”

“Yeah, a mistake,” Louie echoed. “It was probably George Mallardy. He almost caused our uncle’s death. Can’t really trust that guy.”

“Maybe the sword horse is still around here somewhere,” Dewey added.

Webby pressed her beak tightly together. “Yeah, you’re right! Let’s keep looking.”

They scoured the clearing for any hidden passages. Huey analyzed the map carefully, looking for any possible errors or misleads. Dewey took it upon himself to rap each and every inch of the stone hills, looking for a secret passage. Louie walked in circles around the hills, looking for any other landmarks.

After an hour had passed of searching with no luck, the group reunited in the center of the clearing, where the pine tree would be. 

“Any luck?” Huey asked grimly, already knowing in his gut what the answer would be.

Louie shook his head regretfully.

“No,” Dewey muttered, the disappointment clear on his face.

Webby rubbed her toe anxiously against the snowy ground. She opened her mouth, clearly unhappy, and then froze, surprise overtaking her features.

“Webby?” Louie asked cautiously, but she ignored him in favor of leaning down and brushing snow away from a certain spot on the ground. Her brothers stared, frozen, for a moment. But when a splash of dark green peeked out from the snow, Dewey instantly dropped down into a crouch to help her. Huey and Louie followed suit in realization, and in no time they had cleared a little patch of snow away, revealing a tiny pine tree sprout.

“Huh,” Dewey said, breaking the tentative silence that had lain between the four of them while they dug. “I did not expect this.”

“It’s only a baby,” Webby breathed.

Louie frowned. “That’s weird. Isabella Finch and George Mallardy probably came here like a century ago. How could the tree be only a sapling?”

“Maybe it got cut down and replanted,” Huey reasoned logically.

“Or maybe it’s like a phoenix,” Webby breathed, the corners of her beak turning up. “It’ll come back! 

Dewey smiled. “It already is.”

Huey stood up, and held out a hand for his siblings. “We should get back to the plane. Maybe back at home we can do more research on magical pine trees and mystical tundras.”

Webby smiled softly and pushed herself to her feet, the last out of the four of them. “I’d like that.”

She unfurled the map again, and they trekked back to the plane, a little subdued but still energetic. Despite this branch of their adventure being mostly complete, their return seemed to go by in a blink. Soon they were boarding the plane and shedding their snow gear. Dewey settled into the pilot seat and, after a moderately smooth takeoff, they were in the air.

After about a half an hour of flipping through his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, Huey slipped out of the copilot’s chair and made his way over to Louie and Webby. Louie was scrolling through something on his phone, and Webby was reading one of the books Scrooge had given her for her birthday. Darkwing Duck was playing idly on the Sunchaser’s tenuously supported TV in the background, but neither were paying attention to it.

“Look at this,” Huey announced, sliding into the seat next to Webby and holding out his book. It was open to one of the pages about plants and fauna. Huey tapped a small paragraph in the corner with his finger, and Louie and Webby leaned in to read.

“Longer-living plants, like redwoods, go through many stages in their lives, many of which last long periods of time,” Louie read aloud. He glanced at Huey. “That’s purposefully vague. I don’t think it relates to the pine tree.”

Huey’s eyes glinted, like they always did when he got excited about a research project. “Maybe it’s purposefully vague. Either way, it’s a good starting point for an investigation!” 

He smiled. “We may uncover the mystery behind this pine tree and the unicorn just yet.”

Louie typed in a search on his phone. “Heck yeah we will. Ducks don’t back down, remember?”

Webby tucked a colorful bookmark in her book and set it on the chair beside her. “You’re right.” She pulled out her own phone and started to search too.

“This adventure is looking to be bigger than ever!!”

~

hi this is very messy n bad cause i wrote it in an hour but i also have a lot of other big projects goin on (i’m writing the script for an instaronpa!) but i don’t usually have the motivation/time to do events like these. i’m going to try to do a little bit each day, so the parts will be shorter than what i usually write, but hopefully there will be 7 of them!! what i did was i set a timer for 30 minutes and tried to do just that, but i was only halfway done so i kept going. idk if i’ll have the motivation to keep doing that though

anyway i think this is gonna be like a connected story btw. all the more pressure to finish it ahaha. i hc that in this story, they’re all a little older, like teenagers (hence why they’re on an adventure by themselves). there’s one comic where dewey really wants to learn how to fly, so i snatched that headcanon when i realized if they’re on their own, they need a pilot. i considered briefly having Launchpad fly them in and not go, but I like Dewey flying. The whole “Webby planning an adventure” shtick is a brief nod to a couple lines from my group chat fic, where Della inspires Webby to plan an adventure. Since that happens when they’re at their canon ages, this isn’t the adventure they’re talking about. it’s just my inspiration.

title is a lyric from Home by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes. (two for two on using secular songs I sung at camp last year for fic titles haha)

see you tomorrow for the next installment of Home is Wherever I’m With You!

@hdlwsiblingweek2020

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #webby vanderquack #hdlw #wavey writes #my fanfic #ducktales fanfiction #hdlwsiblingweek

[itsme-autumn]

Time’s Up | part 2

Author: @itsme-autumn Pairing: Jax Teller x Female Reader Warnings: some swearing

Part 1

You know Jax is putting in extra effort to make you feel better when he lets you pick the movie. It’s a risky move on his part. You almost pull out La La Land just to enjoy his reaction, but you decide to play nice, especially after how nicely he just played with you. 

Instead you go with a classic: The Fast and The Furious. Hot guys, hot girls, fast cars, what more could you want? He quirks and eyebrow up at you in surprise, but doesn’t say anything. You lean into him and pull your legs up underneath you. He reaches around you and pulls you closer to him and rests his head on top of yours.

You sigh in contentment. You could stay like this forever. This was exactly what you needed. 

The end credits start rolling and you turn your body so your head is in Jax’s lap facing the ceiling. You stretch your arms and legs out and let out a sort of squeaking noise at how good it feels. Jax looks down at you, smirking in amusement. “You comfy down there?” You lightly smack the back of your hand against his stomach and he hunches over in pretend pain.

“We have to watch the rest of the movies now! Which one is your favorite?” Your personal order is 1, 6, 7, 5, 8, 4, 2, 3. If he says Tokyo Drift you’re not sure if you can make this relationship work.

Jax furrows his brow. “There are more movies? I’ve only ever seen this one.” 

You just stare at him. “Um. Yes. A lot more.” You say while trying to keep the judgment out of your voice. “Jackson Teller, what kind of rock have you been living under?”

Feeling like he needs to defend himself now, “Hey, I’ve been a little busy. Not a whole lot of time to get to the movies, darlin’.”

“Well, let me assist you with this gaping hole in your cultural education.” You say as you start to get up to put the next dvd in. Jax tries to keep the grin off his face. And fails. “Not the kind of gaping hole I want your help with, babe.” 

Your face scrunches up in disgust. “Oh, gross.” You grab the throw pillow nearest you and chuck it at him. He laughs and grabs you by your hips to pull you down on his lap. He kisses you softly, snaking his hands around your waist and pulling you closer so you’re straddling him. 

You get lost in the kiss, his scruff scratching your skin in the most intoxicating way. He pulls away as you start to deepen it. You look at him, curious at the interruption. He puts his forehead against yours. “Before we start another movie, will you tell me why you were so upset earlier?” You instantly tense up a little and Jax takes notice. “What happened at work today, babe?” His voice is soft, as if trying to convey that you’re safe with him, that you can confide in him. 

But you’re not sure that’s the best idea. You haven’t seen too much of the club’s business, but you’ve seen enough to know that Jax’s reaction will probably end up with his fist in your boss’ face. At least. 

You let out a long sigh and close your eyes while weighing your options. You want to tell him, you really do. You don’t want a relationship where you keep secrets. If the situation was reversed, you would want to know.

On the other hand, what if Jax tracks your boss down? What would he do then? You didn’t want to think too hard about it, but it would most likely result in you losing your job. 

And where would that leave you? There are only so many firms around here. You would have to either move and probably lose Jax anyway or find other work here, like waitressing or retail, which would probably make you go crazy and resent Jax for a situation that really isn’t his fault, and-- You shake your head a little to stop the crazy rambling in your head. 

Jax continues to look at you, waiting patiently for you to answer him. He brings one hand up your cheek when he sees the look of distress on your face. “Y/N, what happened?” His face showing worry now. You decide to go with your gut. In reality you know you can’t keep this from him. 

“You know how frustrated I’ve been that I haven’t gotten on any big accounts yet.” He nods. “Well I went to my boss today and made my case to be put on our newest team, figuring if he saw my passion and motivation that he might give me a shot.” I clear my throat a bit, not sure how to go about the next part. You decided a vague approach was safer. “He just made it clear that I needed to loosen up a little. That these clients are more casual and I needed to be willing to, you know, like...let my hair down a little, so to speak.”

You know as soon as you say it. That answer will not be good enough for Jax. The look of worry on his face is now shared with a knowing darkness. “What did he say specifically?” His voice is authoritative, leaving no room for negotiation. Your heart beat starts to quicken. There’s no going back now, you just had to follow your stupid gut.

You look down and your hands start to play with the hem of his white t-shirt. “He told me to drop a couple of buttons on my top.” You say it fast and nonchalant, as if you can trick Jax into thinking it’s not a big deal. 

He’s not fooled though. His grip on your waist tightens and you can see his jaw tense. “And then?” He grits out. You still don’t meet his eyes, afraid to see the anger there.

“I got caught up in the moment.” You reply as a means to explain yourself. Before he can say anything you continue, talking quickly as panic starts to rise in your voice. 

“Jax, I know what you’re thinking. He’s an asshole and it’s wrong and he’s taking advantage of me and it’s not okay. I know. But I wasn’t forced to do anything. I decided in that moment to do what I needed to do to get the account, which will be a huge stepping stone for me. I really need this.” Your breathing is picking up now and tears start to pool in your eyes. 

You keep your head down, avoiding his gaze. You pull your arms around your waist, feeling ashamed and a little embarrassed. “Do you think less of me?” Your voice is soft. 

Hearing that, his anger dissolves a little. He hates seeing this way. How could you think that he would ever-could ever-judge you for anything? 

“Hey, hey-” His voice softer now as he cups your face in his hands and pulls it up to meet your eyes with his. “I could never think less of you. Ever. Babe-” He pauses, unsure of the right words to assure you. “I’m a firm believer in doing what you gotta do. Trust me, I’ve done a lot worse for a lot less.” He raises his eyebrows and smirks a little, trying to lighten the moment for your benefit. 

You lean forward and put your hands on his chest as you press your lips to his, all of the emotions you were feeling pouring into the kiss. He pulls back a little and gives you a quick kiss on your forehead. 

“Jax…” You start hesitantly. “I really don’t want you to do anything about this. This is my job and I need to handle it on my own.”

He lets out a sigh. His blue eyes looking at you with a measured expression. You know he’s struggling with an inner battle; the man he wants to be versus the one his life has shaped him to be. You speak up before he has a chance to.

“If you barge in and make a scene with my boss it’ll only make things worse, for me at work and it could stir up trouble for you. I promise to tell you if anything else happens. Please.” You look at him with pleading eyes.

“A/N…” He starts to argue but pauses when he sees the look on your face. He shakes his head and closes his eyes. He opens them, determined, and looks at you sharply. “Assholes like him don’t stop at a couple of buttons. I need to make sure you’re safe. I'm not happy with this situation, but...” He sighs again, resigning himself to the decision he’s made. “You tell me if anything happens. Anything. I mean it, babe.”

Relieved, you throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “I will, I swear.” He rubs circles on your back while pressing to your neck. 

Nothing else is going to happen, you think, this was just a tiny bump in the road. That was the end of it.

That was the end of it. 

You say it in your head again and again as a mantra, willing it to be true. But you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

You squeezed Jax tighter, needing to bring yourself back here with him in this moment. Letting go of him, you wanted to move the evening along and you had the perfect distraction in mind.

“So...are you a Ludacris fan? Because if you are, let me tell you, 2 Fast 2 Furious is going blow your fucking mind.” Jax lets out a laugh, amazed at how you can always lighten the mood effortlessly. “Let’s do it, babe. How many of these movies are there?”

You pretend that you don’t hear him as you get up to grab the dvd.

A/N: Okay, so a continuation that’s a fluff/angst mix. Let me know what you think and if you want a part 3! Oh and don’t even ask about the F&F stuff, I don’t have an answer for you haha.

Tag List: (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!) jenny885, melissataggart87, misssara1981, lokilvrr, innerpaperexpertcloud

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