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kazmirone · 3 years

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obikin rough draft fic excerpt

After he’s hit with a curse on Zeltros, Obi-Wan can only speak after being kissed.

For Anakin, it’s a big problem.

Notes: Someday I will finish this. Someday lol. Anyway, have some unfinished cracky fluff where the Clone Wars are over, Palps is dead, and everything and everyone is fine lmao. I’m trying to decide what’s more satisfying: a cursed Obi-Wan only regains his ability to speak after being kissed by a pining Anakin, or Anakin stews in jealously as he watches Obi-Wan kiss everybody else. Because this fic is the latter route.

Mace Windu cleared his throat as he shifted away, a flush spreading across the sharp planes of his face. He and Obi-Wan were very pointedly not looking at one another, and they both stared off at random points of distance around the chambers.

It would be hilarious, Anakin thought, if it wasn’t so annoying.

“Explain it to us again, you must,” Yoda said.

“Shall I,” Obi-Wan began, voice rough from disuse, “shall I start from the beginning?”

That little, green troll smirked. “Most helpful, that would be, Master Kenobi.”

It’d been one of those rare, easy assignments.

A snatch and grab, in and out before the shuttle engines had even cooled.

Really, Anakin should have known better.

“Perhaps the solution here is an obvious one,” Plo Koon said to the rest of the Council, after Obi-Wan had finished recounting their mission’s details. “Master Kenobi can simply communicate with datapads until this affliction passes.”

Nieber Boton, one of the few Zeltron Jedi in the Order, shook her head. “This is very old Zeltron magic. I fear he will lose his voice for good if the proper treatment is not administered. Every full standard day, at least, if I had to wager.”

“And kissing, the only treatment is?” Yoda asked.

The chambers broke out in a flurry of conversation.

Force, Anakin wanted to sink into the ground. He wanted to sink right into Coruscant’s molten core. Most of all, he wanted the Council to stop talking about Obi-Wan like he wasn’t even in the room, or that a potentially viable solution might be Obi-Wan’s permanent silence.

Anakin looked over at the way Obi-Wan was rubbing his thumb over his brow, saw how tight and tense he was holding his body. Over the Council members’ bickering, he asked, “What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan’s hand stilled, and he looked over at Anakin.

“What do you want?” Anakin repeated. “Do you want to just use datapads and risk losing your voice forever? Or do you want to, well, treat the problem?”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, after a long moment. “I do quite like speaking, I suppose.”

“You like the sound of your own voice, you mean,” Anakin quipped, because he felt like the moment needed some levity or something.

Obi-Wan shot him a withering glare, but the tilt of his mouth betrayed him. It was the first time Obi-Wan had smiled since their kriffed up assignment, and Anakin felt stupidly drawn to it, so much so he missed the way the chambers had fallen silent around them.

“Settled, it is,” Yoda said. “Help you, we will.”

For Obi-Wan’s treatment, help was easy to find.

For Anakin’s sanity, this was sort of a problem.

After Windu, the first person to kiss Obi-Wan was Jocasta Nu.

“I think you made that old bag’s year,” Anakin said, scowling at her retreating back. There was a real spring her step now that hadn’t been there before, he was sure of it.

“Don’t be rude, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, hoarse.

“You’d think she’d encourage your issue, really,” he continued, “less talking in the library.”

Halfway through evening meal, Obi-Wan’s voice dropped off midsentence.

He’d been challenging all the details of Anakin’s dubious retelling of the time he’d fought a rancor without a weapon, nudging Anakin under the table with his knee at every increasingly ridiculous claim, laughing with the rest of their mealtime companions, when the sound behind his words was just…gone.

The whole table went silent with him, watching the way his eyes widened. It was obvious, to Anakin, that it was the first time it’d happened to Obi-Wan since he’d been cursed. And it was obvious, to everyone else, that the sharp flare of alarm in the Force wasn’t entirely Obi-Wan’s.

“My sincerest apologies, Obi-Wan,” Plo Koon spoke first, remorseful, gesturing to his mask and goggles. “I am afraid I cannot assist you in this way, although I would like to.”

“I can help you,” Boton said.

The fork in Anakin’s mechno hand creaked audibly under the strain of his grip. Obi-Wan peered over at him, brow furrowed, then turned back to the very beautiful, very willing Zeltron woman seated across from them. He nodded, because of course he did, what sane man wouldn’t.

When they met in the middle, Obi-Wan and Boton, Anakin should have looked down or away. Everybody else had. It was the polite thing to do, after all. But Anakin didn’t. He watched their lips brush, slightly slick and slightly open and Anakin felt slightly sick.

“Better?” Boton asked against Obi-Wan’s mouth.

Obi-Wan pulled back and sat down hard, coughing lightly into his fist. “Much, thank you.”

Boton grinned. “Anytime.”

“Obi-Wan had to kiss Chancellor Organa today,” Ahsoka said, while they worked on her ship’s jump drive. “I guess the meeting ran too long or something. Anyway, he said it was all very professional. Went right back to his presentation and everything. The Queen was even there.”

Anakin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Well, at least this Chancellor isn’t a Sith Lord. Pass me the hydrospanner, will you?”

Obi-Wan on his knees was a sight to behold, Anakin had to admit, but so was seeing him getting pecked on the lips by Grand Master Yoda. Together, they watched him toddle out of the room, his tiny gimer stick clacking on the floor as he went.

“That was the most upsetting thing I’ve ever witnessed,” Anakin said, once he was sure the grandmaster was out of earshot.

“I need a drink,” Obi-Wan said, toneless. “As quickly as possible.”

“First round is on me,” Anakin said, consolingly, patting his shoulder. He made the mistake of glancing down just as Obi-Wan sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and Anakin didn’t know what to do with that image, so he just looked away.

After, with the taste of spotchka heavy and thick on his tongue, and the memory-image of Obi-Wan’s kiss swollen mouth burned into his fuzzed-out brain, Anakin rolled over in the dark and didn’t sleep until first light.

“That looked, uh, wet.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Anakin watched Fisto amble away. “Those tenta-”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

#obikin #obi-wan x anakin #I wrote a thing #wip excerpt #rough draft

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goldenfawnwriting · 3 years

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Birds Of A Feather- Part 10 Hawks Fic

Summary: Finch is finally returning to work where she’s faced with a series of struggles, one being the infamous winged hero himself.

A/N: Here you go readers. Hope you enjoy

Warnings: Just angst lmao

Finch slid on her heels with a sigh. Today was the day, she had talked herself up over coffee all morning but, as she swung her purse up onto her shoulder she honestly wasn’t feeling any better. She was nervous, nervous to return to her job, nervous to see everyone again... Nervous to see him.

That was what it really was, but she wouldn’t admit it. She was terrified to face him again after the blatant betrayal. She knew he didn’t see it that way or he would never do what he did. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care, maybe this was his way to get her off his back. She didn’t have the guts to ask him even if she did see him, which she would. It was inevitable.

And so she locked her apartment door before heading off to work, walking a little slower into the building when she got there. Her wings bristled as she looked up to where his office would be. The windows gleamed in the light, the very top one open wide, as usual. It was getting warmer now, the air giving the feel of a new beginning.

The elevator music was a little sickening but she endured it, walking into the office and setting her things down before heading to briefing. Her throat was tight with anxiety. She knew this would be when he saw her. Her wings brand new, not crippled anymore.

She stood next to the boss, looking out at all the other workers there. Everyone was waiting for Hawks to show up but after a few more minutes of silence the boss cleared his throat. As he began talking Finch jotted down notes and grimaced. No sign of Hawks anywhere. Was he avoiding her?

When she got back to the office she looked around and noticed Hawks’ seat was still pushed in, meaning he still hadn’t gotten here. So much for his schedule, she grumbled in her head. She clicked through his schedule on her computer, thankfully there were only a few things astray from her stand in. Beginning to take calls and fill in times she was beginning to worry. He still wasn’t here. It was going on an hour into the work day.

She sighed, pulling out her phone to find his phone number, calling from the office phone so that maybe he’d actually answer. It rung twice before going to voicemail. He had done that, he had declined her call. She huffed angrily, calling again. After the third time, someone finally picked up, but it wasn’t the voice she wanted to hear.

“Can I help you?”

A grumpy voice came over the line. Finch felt her stomach drop before she cleared her voice and put on her service voice.

“Hi, this is Mr. Hawks secretary calling from his office, may I ask who I’m talking to this fine morning?”

“U-uh, it’s Amika...”

“Hello, Ms. Amika, pray tell, is Mr. Hawks available?”

“Y-ya, let me wake him up for you.”

There was rustling on the other end of the phone and Finch felt absolutely sick. This was ridiculous. If he could make her first day back any worse she would be surprised. There was a grumble from the other side before his voice rang through.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Hawks, this is your secretary calling, it seems you’re late to work by- let me see- an hour and 20 minutes now.”

She gave in a grumpy tone. He gave a rushed reply.

“Oh uh- fuck, Finch, I’ll be there in 10, I am so, so sorry-”

She hung up on him. He looked at his phone with surprise, running a hand through his bed head. She was livid, he already knew it.

Back at the office, Finch fixed her makeup in a compact, accidentally letting a few tears run, stress and a tiny bit of heartbreak finally squeezing it out of her. She was so tired of this. The dancing around her feelings, dealing with his bullshit.

She was just pressing powder into her under eye, trying to rid the mascara, as he came in the window. She glanced at the time. 5 minutes, instead of 10, color her impressed.

“Looks like someone finally decided to show up...”

She grumbled, he started to come towards her but she stopped him.

“You have a meeting in 3 minutes with the chief, try not to be late this time.”

“H-have you been crying?”

“Can’t you find anything else to worry about?”

She snapped, closing the compact and stowing it away in her purse right as there was a knock on the door. It was the chief of commission, probably coming to save her ass by stealing him away.

“Hawks! I didn’t see you this morning, I was almost worried.”

“Haha, just taking an early morning fly to stretch my wings!”

Finch couldn’t help but roll her eyes dramatically. What a lame excuse. It seemed to have worked though, the chief laughing with him and throwing an arm around his shoulder as he lead Hawks off to the meeting room. Finch sighed.

Today was going to be full of trial and tribulation, she already knew it. So far, not much was going to plan. While he was gone she answered phone calls and sent the usual emails, stretching and working out her fixed wing all the while. The PT didn’t end when she didn’t have anymore appointments sadly. She worked on it whenever she had time, wanting to fly more than anything and as fast as possible.

It was maybe 30 minutes later and the door to the office busted open, catching Finch’s attention quickly. It was Hawks, sighing loudly as he brushed back his hair with his hand. She busied herself with another email, keeping her eyes glued to her computer screen. Her attempt at making herself invisible through sheer willpower seemed to not work though.

“I’m glad you’re back...”

He started, looking at her from across the room. She ignored him, continuing to type quickly.

“Are you mad at me?”

Her face was getting red with frustration. She wanted more than anything to tell him off but, she reminded herself that her feelings didn’t matter in the situation. He advanced, sitting on the edge of her desk. She grumpily pried a paper out from under his leg.

“Why were you crying earlier?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were, you still have mascara on your jaw-”

He reached out to rub it away from her face but she jerked away from him quickly, turning to look at him.

“Don’t you have hero stuff to do?”

“Why are you acting like that?”

He confronted her, looking at her sharply. She looked away from him, his gaze penetrating.

“I-uh-”

“You were crying this morning, you were pissy on the phone and now, what is going on with you, you’re never like this.”

“I just don’t want to talk about it ok?”

“Is everything going ok with your recovery?”

She blushed hard and fanned her wings in reaction to him mentioning them.

“Ya, they’re fine...”

He paused for a moment, looking them over.

“Wow, birdie, your wings might just be bigger than mine.”

“N-no they aren’t!”

She stuttered, blushing even harder, the red contrasting with her freckles. He pulled her up and spread his wings out to their full size.

“Spread your wings I wanna see.”

“H-hawks-”

“Aw come on dove, let me see them!”

She crossed her arms as she spread her wings. They just barely came short of his.

“Wow...”

He trailed off, looking them over. He circled her, like a shark, taking in his prey. She cleared her throat as he came behind her, running a delicate hand over her feathers making her shiver.

“D-dont t-”

He ran his hand along the edge of them, feeling the silky brown feathers and the light speckles that adorned them. Her face reddened even more if it was possible, her body betraying her as she let out a small pant at the feeling.

“Doesn’t it feel good to stretch them out? Have you tried flying yet?”

Her wings bristled with the stimulation and she gave a small squeak in reply.

“N-no.”

“Really? I figured that would be the first thing on your mind-”

His fingers buried themselves into the tiny downy feathers where her wings connected with her back and she couldn’t help herself, moaning lowly at the feeling, electricity being sent all the way through her body, making her roll her eyes, her cheeks blazing.

He chuckled as he pulled away from her wings, walking across the room and side eyeing her coyly. He knew exactly what he was doing, his wings were just as sensitive.

“Someone’s a little worked up..”

She panted as she came back down from her slight high, looking over to him with her pupils resembling the head of a pin.

“Take a breather birdie. Maybe in an hour or two we’ll try flying.”

She blinked away the rest of the fogginess and gave him a look.

“That was absolutely not fair Hawks.”

“Aw come on lovebird-”

“Stop calling me stupid nicknames, you have a girlfriend!”

She snapped, hugging herself to try and make herself seem smaller. She didn’t feel right with him acting like nothing happened.

“What are you talking about?”

He asked lowly, furrowing his eyebrows.

“The red head Hawks! Amika? It was all over!”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“Oh you saw that?”

She was getting increasingly angry.

“She isn’t really my girlfriend, more like an old friend of mine that came to visit...”

Finch snorted, trying to hold back laughter.

“Are you kidding me? She literally answered your phone this morning.”

“Finch, she’s been staying in town is all, she’s an old friend of mine from back when I was in school-”

“Look I don’t care, have fun with her, I’m going to lunch.”

She grabbed her purse, storming off, and closing the elevator doors as Hawks tried to board it with her. She knew if he really wanted to he would just fly down but she almost wished he wouldn’t. As if the stubborn man wouldn’t.

“Why’d you close the doors on me?”

He asked as she walked out the front doors of the building. She ignored him as she made her way down to the line of booths selling street food. She got an order of roasted sweet potato before Hawks caught up to her again.

“Finch you can’t seriously be mad-”

“Why did you stop coming to see me? You ignored all my calls.”

“Well I-”

She threw a hand up.

“Save it. You were with her. Asami didn’t even have the guts to tell me. You know its bad when she of all people hides something from you.”

He didn’t have a reply and Finch walked off, making her way back to the office as she ate silently. How ridiculous could he be?

It was silent for the rest of the day until they were about to get off, Finch shutting down her computer and grabbing her purse.

“H-hey uh.. did you still want to go flying?”

Finch rolled her eyes silently.

“I’m sure Amika is waiting for you at home.”

She replied, giving a sarcastic, tight lipped smile. She made her way out, the elevator dinging before she started on her way home. What a first day...

#hawks #mha hawks #mha #bnha hawks #bnha #bnha keigo #keigo takami #keigo #hawks angst #Hawks fanfic

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microsuedemouse · 3 years

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5, 11, 14 for the salty ask game! ☆

I forgot to answer these sooner oooooops

I love these asks though lmao okay

5 - Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

hmmmm I feel like it's likely but I'm not coming up with any specific examples? I can say for sure that certain really volatile/discourse-y fandoms have made it hard for me to enjoy ship stuff in general at times. also Certain Fandom Attitudes have definitely made me very self-conscious about my ships, especially - in a bizarro-world kind of twist - m/f ones? like. it's weird but some fandoms seem to foster communities that get so attached to certain same-gender ships that having an m/f ship is like painting a target on your forehead. it's ridiculous, esp for a person who is... not straight herself...

((also, to be super clear: I'm talking about fans who are rabid for non-canon same-gender ships. shipping a canonically gay character in a 'het' ship is obviously weird as fuck, to say the least, and not a thing I support lmao.))

no wait I thought of one it's a bit obscure oops but. Karma/Nagisa in Assassination Classroom. I like Karma with Okuda more anyway but Karma and Nagisa are definitely extremely shippable! the problem here is that the fandom loves to depict Nagisa (a male character, for the record) in girls' clothes or otherwise being emasculated/feminised somehow, and they especially love to do it in the context of Karma/Nagisa ship stuff. and while I'm not against people who love to depict characters crossdressing or whatever - that's good stuff, it's fun - the story very clearly shows us that Nagisa hates being seen as girlish. he has long hair and is made to wear girls' outfits a few times in-canon, and it makes him miserable, which we eventually learn is bc his mom desperately wanted a daughter and now she makes him grow out his hair/try on dresses/etc. while she fantasises about having a daughter instead of a son. SO YEAH depicting Nagisa in skirts/dresses or otherwise forcing him into feminine roles just seems like a really shitty thing to do? and its prevalence in fandom put me off Karma/Nagisa content altogether. I enjoy their not-entirely-straight dynamic in-canon but I staunchly avoid fanart/fic about them. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

11 - Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

OH HMMMM. I'm trying to think of some older examples bc I literally don't pay enough attention to most fandoms anymore even to know which characters are actively unpopular lol. but honestly I'm wracking my brain and not coming up with anything??

14 - Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

l o l uhhhh

I mean I'm. SUPER choosy with what aspects of fandom I engage with at all at this point, largely because of how discourse-y and straight-up catty certain fandoms got while I was more active in them. so most of my unpopular opinions are very much in a bubble now, separated from Fandom At Large, like... ships I don't care for, or story decisions I didn't like, or whatever. and I don't even usually know they're unpopular.

the last truly contentious opinion I had and aired for a fandom was years ago with Camp Camp, when I took a stand on camper/counselor shipping. for those who don't know wtf I'm on about: a major ship in the CC fandom was (is? idk anymore) between a ten-year-old boy and a man who's in his early to mid-twenties (canonically 23 or 24 iirc?). and for some reason the fandom was increasingly divided on whether or not this was okay. there were people who were okay with it even if they didn't ship it, and there were people who were not okay with it. I came down emphatically on the latter side, if that's not obvious! I do not support shipping children with adults.

aaaaanyway yeah the fandom devolved into such a cesspit of discourse and pettiness and people being horrible to each other that I basically just dipped lol. it was sucking up so much energy just to passively read those posts when I didn't have to! and that was when I officially settled into my now-firm stance of engaging with fandom only by talking to a few select (sane) friends, occasionally reading fanfic that I like, and even more occasionally throwing my own fanfic over the fence for people to read if they are brave enough to step into the Fandom Yard.

HOO BOY I TALK SO MUCH MY APOLOGIES also lol Izu I'm sorry these are great questions I just didn't have very good answers lmao

it's been like a day and a half but if anybody else wants to ask me any salty fandom questions they're right here. (also I'll reblog them again in a sec.) I swear I have real answers

#survey #fandom

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ddaenghoney · 4 years

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chapter four

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): graphic sexual depictions (fingering, like really minor dirty talk; it’s mostly dirty praise idk, oral; female receiving, cum swallowing, vaginal penetration via male penis(typing this made me laugh so hard lmao), male ejaculation without condom); i’d say it’s entirely sweet sex but uh-

Word count: 4931

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi stands outside of the CEO office, his back against the wall beside the elevator. Waiting until the door shuts behind you, he straightens, pressing the button next to his waist to signal the elevator. Meeting eyes with his, you know there’s a lot he wants to say, but the vagueness of his expression doesn’t give you an idea of a tone. Another lecture you’re sure. Just to continue the growing streak. Yerin’s secretary glances towards you then Yoongi, curiosity taking over her to hope for something interesting to occur.

You simply follow him into the elevator.

“What was all of that?” He asks you when the door shuts, eyes peering in frustration, but you believe him to be shocked more than anything. “I’m now your fake boyfriend?” A single, breathy laugh leaves his mouth. Bitter.

“I guess,” You’re unable to meet his gaze, instead staring at the unlit elevator buttons and the lack of movement from other people calling for the elevator on this oddly slow day. “I don’t even know.”

“If I knew this would happen,” He sighs, rubbing his temples and never finishing the end of the thought. Leaving it to himself.

“This is my fault.” Your voice is barely a whisper, severity of everything catching up with you and how you’ve managed to cause trouble for Jimin and now Yoongi, who’s new to SoundWave and probably hating the employment.

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head, then exhales once more, trying to rationalize. “This is complete shit, but it’s not your fault.” In the first place, Jimin having a contract forbidding him from dating is one that Yoongi thought was just a bad rumor in the industry-- something that people didn’t actually have. There wasn’t a single employee in his last company that was forced under that rule, even though it had been frowned upon to be in public relationships. Incredibly frowned upon in a certain case. Still, Yoongi never figured the lack of a dating-ban clause in his contract and the new direction of his stage persona would lead him into a fake relationship. Irony with no humor. “Why aren’t you publically an employee?”

You reach for the elevator buttons, clicking the ground floor. The machinery shifts, starting the descent.

“Because,” You’re still hesitant about the prospect of explaining your situation. Anyone at SoundWave that has anything to do with music production knows, and Yoongi shouldn’t be an exception. It’s not like he is an intern, or part-time assistant. You may even work with him in the future, but you can’t remember ever explaining your position to someone other than Jimin. And that was only because he was whom you worked with often when first starting. “I write songs and produce, but I don’t ever get credited for it.”

“What?” Yoongi sounds like he thinks he didn’t correctly hear you. “Wait, what do you mean? Who gets the credit then?”

You sigh, eyeing the floor number that grows smaller and smaller, but not quick enough. “Whatever group or idol that ends up using them.”

“You,” He’s without comprehension, expression on his face ridiculously confused. Maybe even appalled by your job, or that he is also a part of the extremely large group under the assumption that they aren’t being lied to. Only to find out that it’s an acceptable and ongoing aspect of the company. One you’re acceptant of; otherwise you would’ve quit years ago or never taken the job to begin with. “You let your work get used under someone else’s name-- you’re lying to people, and you’re just letting that happen?”

You glare at him, but stay silent. Even if you want to argue, that’s how it is. You don’t have the power to change it, and years earlier you didn’t actually mind sliding ethics aside. You want to tell him that you’re not letting the lies occur willingly, but by the looks of his face-- something appearing increasingly unsettled and distant about your untruthful position-- you know it won’t matter. He won’t understand and maybe is even right to have his opinion of you drop to the ground.

The elevator door opens prompting you to practically jump out. “I’m going home.”

Yoongi stays inside of it, posture weighted in contempt of everything that he’s just gone through. As if the merger couldn’t get anymore terrible, now he is in a falsified relationship with someone that helps SoundWave lie to the general public just for the sake of appearances, and he’s stuck dealing with it. He groans when the doors shut again, taking a moment to bask in the nonsense of it all before clicking the button to his studio’s floor.

Outside the building you pace, considering the option of calling Jimin, but then also considering that he hasn’t texted you and is likely angry and sorting through his own thoughts of this mess. You groan, startling a passerby on their walk to wherever. Taking no notice you shake your head, pulling out your phone and ripping the bandaid off,

Y/N, 3:43pm: Can we talk?

You stare at the message thread for a passing minute, then lock the screen. He could be busy doing a thousand other things, there isn’t a reason for him to automatically get back to your message, and he could still be upset-- the screen flashes with a notification, and you immediately unlock,

Jimin, 3:44pm: Yeah, I get off close to nine.

A breath releases from your lips. At least he responded. Another message appears, the contents seizing up the next beat of your heart.

Jimin, 3:44pm: Can I call you right now?

Y/N, 3:45pm: Yeah, of course.

You descend south of the company, heading towards a nearby coffee shop when the call comes in. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Jimin sits in the recording booth, waiting for the producer to meet him there at the start of the next hour. His legs gently push on the floor, swaying the computer chair side to side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” The concern in his voice eases you, as well as the seemingly calm demeanor. Though there is a chance he’s feigning it, you suppose. “I’m so sorry about the thing with Yoongi. I swear nothing happened-”

“I believe you, lovely.” Softly spoken, head nodding even though you couldn’t see him. Jimin bites his lip, bothered that you’ve likely been incredibly worried about what he thought ever since Yerin dropped the words. “You wouldn’t do that to me. I trust you.”

His sincerity is warm, nearly causing the fuzz of emotions in your eyes to trickle because of how much your mind was pressured from the idea that he would misunderstand. You breathe through your lips, cracking the air audibly. Jimin sits upright on his end, concern raising his voice’s volume,

“Baby, are you crying?”

“No.” You’re quick to cover up but the word itself sounds like a tremble. Jimin frowns, rubbing his face,

“I’m sorry, I would’ve texted you but I was worried your phone’s notification would be loud while you were talking to Yerin. I didn’t want it to interrupt and make her angrier.” You rub your eyes feeling no tears and just the annoying heat that seems to release from all of the stress of the past couple of hours. “What did she tell you anyways? You didn’t get in more trouble did you?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Just a speech that put you in your place, but it’s not worth mentioning. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer you over the weekend, Jimin.”

“It’s fine.” Jimin taps his index finger on the armrest, then pausing the motion as you speak up,

“No, it’s not fine. I shouldn’t have ignored you. I wasn’t being fair.” You sigh. He’s quiet at your words, surprised at the conclusion of your actions.

“I was acting like an idiot, Y/N.” He glances to the clock, knowing the producer is usually early. “I’m not mad at you for it, I deserved it. Anyways, I need to go. I just called because I wanted to hear your voice and make sure you were okay.” You smile softly at the admission. “Come to my apartment later and we’ll talk more, alright?”

“Okay,” You nod, glancing to the sign on the coffee shop that stated they are closed for the day. Unusual for a Monday. Yet fitting for the kind of day it is. “I’ll make sure no one notices me going in.”

---

Jimin can’t help chuckling at you when he opens his front door. A large zip-up hoodie drapes over you with the hood covering your face, and sunglasses complete your, to your opinion, lowkey look despite sunglasses being useless at night. You’re pouting as you remove the shades, stepping into the apartment.

“I bet the cab driver thought you were having a day.”

“He wouldn’t be wrong.” You shrug, slipping the hood off and dipping your eyes from his. Jimin sighs, head nodding in agreement. “He was telling me I was lucky to get a cab tonight and everyone is close to the city center today, so at least I got a ride if nothing else.” Jimin’s head tilts at your seemingly lack of awareness to the date,

“You know it’s New Year’s Eve don’t you?” His sentence barely completes before you’re looking back at him in shock. When you consider all of the closed establishments and lack of people at work, it makes sense, but you’re in disbelief that you forgot. Jimin smiles in endearment, reaching for your hand, “It’s been a complicated week.”

He leads you to the couch, and still calm. With all of the information he heard from Yerin, you assumed Jimin would act differently. At least be asking fervently for answers. He said on the phone that he trusts you, but despite that you wonder how he’s not appearing to be upset about it. Sitting down beside him, you watch Jimin pull his knee up on the cushion facing you. His hand fiddles with yours, thumb stroking the top.

“What should we do?”

The question isn’t one you anticipated on your way over. The diverse amount of things Jimin could mean with it flutter your mind like gusts in a tree, and the lack of strong emotion in how he spoke make your eyebrows harden in thought. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” His eyes fall to where your hands meet. Jimin squeezes tighter. A pound in his chest. “Don’t you think we should stop this all?”

Muscles tense throughout your body. The concept is so far removed from what you expected. His passive attitude to go along with it drives your head to draw a blank. You thought coming here there could be strong words in an argument of explanations, and apologies for the things Yerin called you both into the office for. Not this. Your hand squeezes around his and Jimin casts his gaze back up. Nervousness is apparent, paired with your head shaking.

Jimin bites his inner lip, trying to remain rational despite the hurt in your eyes, “We,” He hesitates, remembering the first time that he kissed you. “We’re just hurting each other, love.”

“How?” Voice higher, confused. “We’re,” You swallow dryly, “Not even dating, Jimin, why do you sound like you think we should break up.” A tiny, hollow laugh, devoid of humor. You watch helplessly as he nods,

“I know, so before it gets worse than what happened today, we should stop.” Jimin’s voice slows down, like he doesn’t want to complete the sentence. Sadder. You inhale, trying to reason his tactics in your mind,

“Then let’s date.”

“Love-”

“I don’t want to stop.” Jimin bites his lip, frowning at you while feeling the ducts of his eyes well because of your pleas. Your hand shakes in his grip, and he wills himself to stop from hugging you. “Please, I don’t want to stop. I like how we were, I,” You remember saying the opposite to him at the club. He recalls the same thing, smiling joylessly.

“We can’t stand up for each other, baby. I can’t be there for you like you deserve.” Jimin talks about the company, but also in society’s perspective. Yerin made it clear that he can’t be in a relationship publically, and for that reason the relationship between you started. Hidden. Incomplete. Jimin told you at the beginning that you should both stop if you caught feelings for somebody else and you agreed because it was just fun when it started. It wasn’t serious, but it turned into something deeper. You know that and know Jimin knows it too.

“I care about you so much.”

Jimin’s lips part at the simple, yet utterly sincere and loving words. Contrasted by the sadness of the entire situation. His hand clenches around yours. He thinks the same, but with what he knows about himself, he shouldn’t let this continue. The few cool tears dripping from his eyes plead with him as well. To admit to you the feelings that he has, but it’s more complicated.

“Jimin,” He loves hearing his name through your lips. His tear-stained face watches you move, knowing he should stop you. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t and your lips are on his. Jimin’s hand abandons yours for your waist, to keep you from getting too close, but he kisses you back, relishing in your touch against his better judgement.

“Baby.” Jimin’s hand tightens around the side of your waist when you attempt to move closer. Mere inches from your face, his eyes lock with yours, searching for your thoughts.

“Please,” Air hitches in Jimin’s throat while your arms cascade around his neck. Your voice soft. Begging once more, by your lips kissing him sweetly. Like candy. Familiarly. “You don’t want to stop.”

“We should though.” A waver in his tone. Jimin really doesn’t want to stop, let you go, force you from his life.

“Just kiss me.” Believing you can convince him otherwise, your arms gently tug. Coaxing. In a more sensible time, you know this isn’t how to keep him with you. You know that there are problems, and the way Jimin and you are now won’t work. But you love him.

And this isn’t a sensible time.

Your hoodie is left on the couch, stripped off before Jimin lifts you to take you to his bedroom. Your lips attach along his jaw, trailing until you come in contact with the spot that elicits an expected grunt. Your arms tighten around him, holding yourself to him while working at the skin, leaving it sensitive and bruised before he lays you down.

His fingers caress on the area, smirking softly at your quick, thorough work, but his jaw tightens when you waste no time and remove your long sleeve. Inhaling a long breath, Jimin crawls over top of you,pressing your head back into the mattress as he kisses you firmly.

“What if you regret this?” Jimin’s voice blisters against your neck, syllables left in the skin like a trail leading to your collarbone where he pauses, kissing feverishly. He knows you won’t change your mind, more so when you audibly sigh and mix your fingertips into his hair,

“I can’t regret you.” You raise your hips the short distance to rub against Jimin’s, listening to his groan when he feels you against his growing bulge, “I want you, Jimin.”

For more than just the night.

Jimin’s face equals with your own, lost in your eyes until you kiss him again, prompting him to flatten against you more. His hips rub slowly over yours, firmly pressing his hardened erection against your pelvis. You moan against his lips, fueling Jimin’s emotions to win over logic. His hand reaches for the button on your jeans quickly, desiring more contact. He halts when you nudge him upwards, immediately thinking you want to stop until your fingertips are undoing each button on his top. He smirks at your hands, watching you through the sultriness in his irises.

Jimin lets you be the one to push his shirt off his shoulders, then he lets it slip off his arms to lie next to your hips on the bed. Your palm finds his chest, cementing the beat of his heart to memory. He observes quietly, curious of the slowness in your actions. The intimacy of feeling his skin in a calm manner. The moment passes when your hand moves to cup his cheek, guiding him back down to you for a kiss labored in passion, but just as vulnerable as tears.

You grind your hips opposite of his motions, creating a deeper pressure that causes a small piece of profanity to fall from his lips. Jimin’s hand finds your cleavage, squeezing over your bra to make you gasp. The article is removed then in your haste for him to touch you more, earning darkened chuckles from his lips when you lift your back from the bed to unclasp the bra, your chest pressing to his. He admires you, “You’re so precious.”

“Then don’t break up with me.” Labored words escape when you’re back against his sheets. Under his focused stare you slip your arms from the bra straps, but hesitate to remove the cups when Jimin’s chest fills with air from a sharp inhale. Watching so intently, and you swear his eyes gaze lovingly as well. He reaches his hand over yours, guiding it to slide the lingerie from your chest, exposing yourself to him for a countless time. Beautiful.

“It’s better for us,” Jimin has the nerve, the stubbornness to say this in a low voice, despite the fact that the actions currently show he’s trapped in the thing he’s deemed no good. You shake your head, then are halted by the ghosting kiss from his lips, “You mean so much to me, lovely.” A longer ministration follows, filling your thoughts of the familiarity how sweet he’s always tasted. “But we can’t become a couple. I can’t let you deal with how lousy I am.”

“You’re not,” You pepper Jimin’s cheeks, fingers trailing along his back.

“You know how I am in the company.” You don’t speak against that idea, the one you never want to bring up because it felt like an instant argument. One you didn’t think Jimin realized. “And you’re wonderful and talented,” His kisses are short and repetitive against your lips, “And deserve better than all of the crap you’re put through. But I can’t help you with it. And I don’t want to be a reason you hold yourself back.”

Before you’re able to retort at his nonsensical words, Jimin’s hand reaches between your legs palm pressing against your jeans and rubbing friction into your core. Words are lost to a whimper unprepared for the contact as well as the proceeding action his hand takes rubbing roughly, making your hips move into him craving more. Jimin kisses at your neck listening to his name fall from your lips in a needy murmur.

His hand leaves your growing pile of nerves, eliciting a breathy whine that he kisses back into your mouth. Jimin unbuttons your jeans, “Take them off.” The demanding tone is contrastingly soft, leaving your heart beating in anticipation and complying in moments to help him rid the clothing. “God,” He lifts himself upright, knees pressing further into the mattress from his weight, while he looks you over: skin already appearing glistened from need, chest concaving from breaths that leave the mess of lovebites in view on your upper body. “So beautiful.” His head tilts watching the blush on your face grow from his words. “You know that though,” A coy smirk plays at his lips, while he reaches for your thighs, gently sliding you upwards on his bed, so your head comes close to the headboard. “I tell you,” Your mouth releases a moan when his fingers press against your clit through your panties, his lips leaving airy pecks on your thighs, “Every time I can,” His smirks grows when the swipe of his thumb against your wettening heat makes your legs jerk. Trying to close, but he removes the hand to grip them back in place, respreading, “I’m going to make you feel good.”

Profanity slips from your lips in a breathless stutter when he strips you completely, Jimin’s fingers rubbing into your clit like a map memorized. Easily causing your legs to wiggle, moans slipping out when one dips inside. “Jimin,” Needily begging for more as the digit slides in and out, readying you for the second while he continues laying kisses on your chest, decorating it with heat in every spot. “Feels-” You gasp when his thumb works against your clit, the sensation mixing with his fingers pumping inside of you making your hands grip his shoulder.

Nails graze the skin as Jimin’s fingers push all the way, he grunts from the force of your hand, but leaves a kiss to your jaw, “Don’t come,” Another ministration on your lips as you whimper, already knowing you were leaving his fingers wet along with his sheets from how he was expertly edging you along, “Not yet, lovely, wait for my mouth to take you over.”

Every piece of will to listen nearly disperts from just the tone of Jimin’s voice: slow, confident. You’re so willing to be pushed over that you’re unable to stop your hips bucking into his mouth when his tongue graces the entrance of your throbbing cunt. He chuckles against you, the vibrations themselves feel good, and your face heats from your own eagerness, but you’re more focused on giving him the satisfaction he wants, “Jimin, you’re so-” You gasp as his tongue dips deeper, moaning your next words, “Good, fuck; please, I want to come.”

“Let me taste you, baby,” Jimin’s hands hold your hips as you writhe from the pleasuring sensations. He groans low when your hand leaves the bed to tangle in his hair as your orgasm coaxes through. You tremble releasing yourself with long moans, hazy while Jimin’s lips lap up your arousal, muttering praise into your core. Your head lies against his mattress, chest taking full inhales, as Jimin sits upright. His tongue drags along the remainders of you on his lips, while his eyes take in your fucked body. He crawls overtop of you, kissing you and staining your tongue with your own taste.

“I want you inside me,” You cup Jimin’s face as you murmur the words. His eyes are lidden with desire at your statement, sharply inhaling when you go on, “Fuck me, baby, please I want to make you cum in me.” Jimin kisses you, moaning to your lips as your hand rubs his shaft through tight jeans. “It’s not even fair for you to still have these on,” He chuckles, and you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

“You want to come again, baby; so needy for me.” Jimin kisses your nose, his pelvis moving into the motions of your hand. His inhales grows slightly labored when you give a squeeze to his hardened bulge before you’re unbuttoning his jeans. They’re removed in moments, Jimin’s own efforts to pull of his boxers, exposing his dick, erect and sensitive enough to cause his breaths to shake when he palms himself, “You’re sure about no condom?”

“You know I’m covered there,” You say staring at his length, swallowing in anticipation for the feeling of Jimin inside of you. He notices your sultry gaze and leans back towards you, kissing you tenderly.

The emotion takes you back for a second, feeling somewhere between melancholic and warm, you’re brought back to his conviction that this would be the last time Jimin intends to be intimate with you. When his lips leave yours, your eyes are focused on Jimin’s. There’s so much you want to ask him, but when he’s as convinced as he is, what good would it do. You’re the only one with feelings surpassing love, or else he wouldn’t do this.

Jimin kisses you again, using the remnants of your previous orgasm to lubricate his length, before he’s aligning himself with your entrance and easing himself in. Your chest raises from a breath, listening to Jimin’s moans against your lips as he tops out into you, “You’re so good around me, baby. Fuck,” He grunts when your hips buck to his. You moan as his grinding begins slow in full movements to get your walls acclimated to his dick, though you’re already well stimulated.

“Fuck,” You gasp as his pace suddenly changes, Jimin pulling out only to pound back in and make you moan his name loudly. He kisses your lips before moving back to your cheek, jaw, and neck, every inch he could while he pumps into you over and over, every audible sound from you encouraging his actions. “Jimin, Jimin,” You beg using his name, feeling his hand find yours, fingers meshing as your voice grows higher from an oncoming wave wanting to burst through. “I’m close- shit--”

“God, you feel so good; your pussy takes me so well, baby,” Jimin kisses your lip hungrily, “Come for me, lovely; I’m going to,” Your hand squeezes him as the orgasm washes over you, listening to Jimin’s moaning as his seed fills you, “Fucking,” You come undone with him, the ride going through your core and releasing around Jimin’s dick as you moan loudly, senselessly, not caring if anyone could possibly hear.

Labored breathing flows into the silence of his room. Your free hand guides Jimin’s face to yours for a sweet kiss that he lets linger into a honeylike warmth. Pulling out, Jimin then lets himself fall into the bed beside you, hand still holding yours with a seeming refusal to let go. He watches quietly while you look at his ceiling aimlessly, breathing still full as your bodies calm down. “You still want us to stop.” A statement with the tone of a question.

“Yeah,” He bites his lip as you turn on your side to face him. He feels your hand grip his with a tiny tremble, and your eyes alone make his heart nearly shatter. You try your best to force the tiniest of smiles, but Jimin gently shakes his head, “Don’t pretend for my sake, sweetie.”

“It hurts.” You whisper to let out the emotions that want to escape as tears. Jimin frowns, pulling you towards him and embracing you so you could hide your face against his chest. “Are you sure this isn’t because of the thing with Yoongi?” You ask in a trembling voice while tears build in your eyes that you try to blink back.

“It’s not.” Jimin kisses the top of your head, his hands rubbing soothingly along your back, “It’s really not, baby.” He pauses, knowing there his reasoning isn’t completely selfish as he goes on, his voice sad and his reflecting that, “We just really can’t be there for each other like we’d need to be in a relationship, lovely. We’ll just hurt each other, more than we have been lately.”

You exhale a choppy breath, trying to even out your emotions for the sake of the last night with Jimin not being only tears.

You both flinch as the night sky outside flashes, with a medley of booming sounds murmuring out in the air. Jimin’s grasp on you strengthens, contemplative of what was going on as you shift to get sight of the window, covered except for the gap between the curtains.

“It must be midnight.” Your voice is hollow and you remove yourself from his warmth to crawl off the bed. Jimin’s eyes follow you inquisitive, a pit of worry brewing that you intend to leave until your hand pushes back one of the curtains, leaving the sheer set behind it out in the open. The colorful fireworks continue in happy, vibrant colors, spilling remnants of their energy as a reflection on your skin. Jimin stares in awe, silent as you turn back to face him, picturesque and ethereal in the celebratory lights. A contradiction to the events of his apartment.

A veil in the thin curtains acts as a separator between you both in the dimness of his room and the continuation of the world outside.

You walk back towards Jimin, crawling to his open arms on the bed as he greets your return with a kiss. You take it and any following in case they’re the last, settling into Jimin’s bed with him as the blankets cover your cuddling frames. It’s a long time of contentment in each other’s arms, while you both ignore that day means an end; trying to let the fireworks and their beauty be enough of a distraction between longing kisses.

Inevitably you fall asleep first, breaths soothing in sound and sight as Jimin admires the grace of your figure in his arms. He strokes your hair like you still needed to be lulled to slumber. He thinks what it would be like if he was on your side from the first instance of you bringing up that you wanted to be credited for your work, or if he hadn’t kept quiet about his opposite, selfish opinion this long and forwards.

Your sleeping body shifts, arms tightening around his waist. Jimin can’t help the little smile, wishing he had the same outlook as you just so it wouldn’t be the last night of you being practically his. Jimin’s lips find your peaceful forehead in a warm kiss, saying a whisper that he doubts he’ll ever get to say again, “I love you.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : ) also don’t drag me for the smut in this chapter it may or may not be good idk im worried lmaoadsjfgk

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi

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jlf23tumble · 5 years

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Hi jen! I know usually anons have specific requests but could you rec me a couple of fics ? Just something you think it's really great! I'm not feeling too well and i need to get out of my head for a while. (Thank you in advance!)

oOh, mannnn, that sucks, but I feel ya!! This is mildly tricky but also incredibly easy: you don’t necessarily need or want anything super angsty or kinky because you don’t feel great, and canon’s probably a no go (which is a shame, I’d be rec’ing that pube fic HARD bleepin’ CORE), so you need some good AU material that’ll err on the side of distraction, methinks. Because I’ll bet that you’ve read most of these, I’m gonna give you a few more than two, and if you HAVE read ‘em all anyway, come back over and tell me a little bit more about some parameters, and I’ll do another pass. These are just off the top of my head, but I can search with the best of ‘em, goddammit, even my own spotty bookmarking. Under the wiggly line, in no particular order.

Tuxedo Dress-Up, by Blake/ @newleafover, 11k, E. Louis is an aspiring song writer by day, a make up artist for drag queens by night, and masquerading as a full time real estate agent for his third most famous (and first most handsome) client Harry Styles.Or, five times they fail to fuck in a closet, and one time they get it right. (I will not rest until everyone has read this one!!!! I can rec it for pretty much every single scenario, and I barely restrain myself, I’m telling you)

Sing You Butterflies, by objectlesson/ @alienfuckeronmain, 22k, E. Harry’s a clumsy unicorn who accidentally stomps on a witch’s garden and is turned into a human as punishment, so he wanders into a nearby village covered in glitter, still figuring out how to walk on two feet, and meets the fairy-tale-fine Louis, who has to teach him how to live as a human and stop him from eating soap. (I’m putting two from Phoenix on here, but rest assured I’d rec all of hers, too, this is just an adorable fantastical story that completely immerses you in another world that’s still rooted in this one? talent, I tell ya...and I HIGHLY recommend all of P’s fic, she’s writing drabbles in so many universes if you want to explore)

Take Me Under the Blue, by objectlesson, 19k, E. Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction.He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.It’s sort of a long story. (when I heard about this one before editing, I was scurred...but it’s so fucking GOOD, I’d read so many more installments, and I say this as someone who hates fish dick stories, p.s., there’s no fish dick)

just call me inspiration, by @hereforlou, 51k, E. The truth is Louis knows he’s going to hell, if there is such a thing, but it isn’t because he writes erotic fiction for a living. If anything, it’s because his muse, the reason he’s inspired to write about people shagging in increasingly creative ways everyday, is the sweetest, loveliest, most genuine (and completely oblivious) future children-book illustrator in the world. Or, the one where Louis is a writer, Harry is an art student, and they inspire each other in very different ways. (Just me as Liam, that’s all I’ll say)

Tied Down, by @ham-palpert, 48k, E. The most interesting case in Liam and Niall's careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson. The investigation yields an unexpected yet satisfactory outcome for Liam and Niall. For Harry and Louis, however, things are far more complicated. (A twisty mystery, and all is NOT as it seems, so read the tags and push through chapter 1; it’s more of a tense drama, if you want to go down that path)

Alien Roadtrip!, by @helloamhere, 16k words, E. For the first time in his life, Louis doesn’t know where he’s going. Harry doesn’t mind. Or roadtrip with desert feelings, too much snack food, and empty motels. Harry is definitely absolutely not an alien. That would be ridiculous. (great dialogue and miles of smiles/laffs in this one, plus you can pretend it’s related to that area 51 nonsense if you really want to)

I’m reading a couple of WIPs that might pull you in, too:

Harry Styles Cooks..., by @sunsetmog, 52k, E. In which Louis Tomlinson can’t cook, there’s a very special shower curtain, and Harry Styles used to be a baker.Or: Louis owns all of Harry Styles’ cookbooks, and he never intends to cook a single thing out of any of them. (this one is updating fairly slowly, but that’s okay, it’s literally Christmas every time I get that nota, AGGRESSIVE SIGHING OVER HOW MUCH I GRIN LIKE A LOON WHEN I READ EACH INSTALLMENT)

Cards Are Dealt, by @loutmlnsn, 26k, E. Louis likes his life; he likes his job, he likes his house, he likes his town and he loves his cat. It’s not exciting, per say, but it’s comfortable, predictable and quiet. It’s normal. It’s what Louis has always wanted out of life. What Louis never wanted out of life was an A-list actor for a neighbour, who at first glance appears to possess all the values that Louis detests in a human being. An AU in which Louis is a nurse, Harry is an actor, and first impressions matter just as much as everyone keeps saying. (I’m actually reading a few wips, but I tend to notice when they update...I don’t bookmark them until they’re done, though, and this last one just updated yesterday, so check it out! Harry Styles Cooks is my fave wip of all time, I will never forget I’m following it, lmao)

#fic rec #get better soon angel!

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a-simple-lee · 5 years

Text

A game of stealth

Legolas, reader, Pippin, Merry, Aragorn

Description: you make a bet with Pippin that you simply have to win, though this comes at a cost for Legolas that he isn’t entirely happy with.

A/n: oof this is the first non-marvel fic I’ve written in literal months and it feels so weird lmao

________________________

“Do you think it’s possible to sneak up on the Elf?” You ponder out loud, bored after the long hours of walking through thankfully safe yet plain country. Fields and sparse woods stretch ahead of your party as far as the eye can see, and whilst you’re grateful for the respite from the violence and danger, trudging for days without a change in scenery is starting to dampen your spirits. There are no orcs or goblins (nor trolls) in these lands, so the Fellowship is taking advantage of the easier terrain by travelling for shorter periods and setting up camp earlier each night.

“For you? No,” Pippin snorts, highly entertained by the concept of a human trying to be sneaky.

“I think I could,” you respond, glancing at your elven companion; he’s slightly ahead of everyone, talking with Aragorn.

Merry sidles up from behind you. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s hard enough to do so as a hobbit.”

“Then I shall remind you how easy it was once I’ve accomplished it,” you grin, feeling rather confident. “I’ll show you.”

Over the course of five or so minutes, you make your way swiftly through the party’s marching order, taking advantage of a couple trees for cover every now and then. Gimli gives you an odd look, but you press a finger to your lips in warning, and he returns to his conversation with Sam.

The weather’s working in your favour; you stand downwind of the party’s trackers, and the breeze is enough to rustle the local flora into a distracting white noise. Perhaps, you think, there’s a chance you could pull this off. There’s only a few feet between you and the Elf now, who seems rather unaware. You move to place a hand on his shoulder from behind. He reaches up and grabs your wrist before you can touch him.

“Yes, little one?”

You frown. His lips quirk in an almost-smile.

“…why do you call me that? I’m no Shirefolk.”

“You spend long hours with them,” he counters.

“I suppose,” you admit; the Hobbits hold a special place in your heart as simply good people. They only ever wish to help others, and you admire their willpower. That, and Merry and Pippin tell excellent jokes.

“Do you require something?” Legolas is looking at you curiously.

“He is a wood-elf,” Pippin smiles as you return, casting a pointed glance towards the trees.

“Alright, I suppose it’s difficult.” The atmosphere turns quiet for a period after that, your trio remaining silent save for a few jibes from your halfling friends.

Later in the day, when the afternoon approaches sunset, you set up camp, sheltered in a sort of valley with large boulders scattered about.

“This should be safe,” Gandalf advises. “There’s no life here for miles.”

As time progresses, the Fellowship sits in small groups, exchanging stories and preparing for the night.

“What were you talking about earlier?” Frodo asks. “I saw you acting suspicious with Pippin, and that’s never a good sign.”

“Why,” you start, not sure whether to be honoured or offended by the accusation. “We were just discussing a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Yes-” you cast a cursory glance around the camp; the Elf is preoccupied speaking with Gimli.

“Merry and Pippin think I can’t sneak up on Legolas.” At this, Frodo narrows his eyes. “Oh, do have some faith in me!”

“-He shouldn’t, little one.” A voice from close behind you catches you off guard. You yelp, flinching and turning around to face your sylvan companion, who has drifted noiselessly over whilst you were talking.

“Legolas, I-” Merry and Pippin are laughing, but you ignore them. “I have committed to a goal, and I intend to reach it.”

“You make more noise than our halflings, little one - you’d do well to spend more time with them, and then perhaps you’ll learn to step quieter.”

“I can step quietly!” You protest. “I’ll get better!”

Several failed attempts follow this conversation, the most notable one being by your campfire in the evening, where Legolas turns to face you before you’ve gotten within 5 feet of him. The rest of your party is finding the debacle rather entertaining, much to your dismay.

“Very well,” you huff, sitting down next to Aragorn & Boromir. “If I need to learn, teach me. You’re a ranger, Aragorn - surely you have some advice.” He lets out a chuckle, and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Do not step on twigs; they make a great deal of noise.” You roll your eyes. “And stop being so careless in your movements; they’re clumsy.”

Despite the slightly patronising tone, Aragorn appears somewhat sincere.

“Thank you,” Rising from the campfire, you move to unpack your bed roll.

Morning greets you with a golden sunrise and birdsong - a luxury on your adventure. It appears you’re the last one to wake; everyone else is sat eating a breakfast of Lembas bread and dried fruits. The idea to practise your sneaking skills occurs to you - nobody’s noticed you’re awake yet, so you take the opportunity to clamber from your bed roll and cautiously tiptoe behind the rock Legolas is sitting on. Your breath is suspended, hanging in your lungs as you will no one to see you.

Nobody does, it seems, as you draw closer to your elf. The unexpected success feels suspicious. You haven’t thought about what you’ll do if you managed to sneak up on Legolas, so you spend about half a second pondering your next steps. It’s probably best to make your victory known to the party, hence a loud noise will suit the situation, you decide. In the relative quiet of the countryside, any sudden commotion will quickly gain attention, and then you shall have proved everyone wrong.

So you find yourself reaching forwards and fluttering your fingers over the elf’s neck.

What sounds like a genuine yelp of surprise escapes from Legolas, and he twitches away from your hands. The feeling of 8 pairs of eyes on the both of you reassures you of your victory. Though when the yelp dissolves into a giggle, your glee turns to curiosity.

“Good morning!” You laugh, giddy with the knowledge you’ve finally proved the hobbits incorrect.

“Good morning,” Legolas blinks, seeming taken aback by your ambush.

“Ticklish?” you tease, poking him in the side. The elf takes your hand, smiling calmly.

“Be careful,” he warns. “I’m happy to leave you this victory, though if you try that again, I can’t promise I won’t take my revenge.”

“I’m not ticklish,” you bluff, sneaking an arm behind your friend to tweak his ribs. He yelps again, this time attracting the attention of Merry and Pippin. The pair of them are overjoyed at this turn of events; or, more importantly, the mischief that will result from it. Legolas gives you a look of betrayal, but you ignore it and trot off to pack up your things, a victorious human. It isn’t long before you hear laughter and shouting from behind you.

You don’t remember Legolas’ words until the evening, since the rest of the day passes rather uneventfully. Whilst the terrain has become rockier, there’s still no sign of the peace ending, which is both reassuring and infuriating. You spar with the Aragorn whilst the others set down their belongings, but it isn’t long before he’s called away by Frodo. You sit down and begin unpacking your things, making yourself comfortable for the night. Sunset is fast approaching, and Gimli has taken Sam to look for food.

There’s not much for you to do, so you sit weaving some long blades of grass into a pattern. The activity distracts you from the clattering of equipment around you, and for a moment it’s as if you’re not even travelling, but sitting in a garden somewhere. Thoughts of danger and the trauma of the past few weeks slip away as your muscle memory takes over, repeating the same knots over and over, your little craft project growing increasingly elaborate. Flowers dot the ground next to the rock you’re sitting on, so you pick a few and weave them in, eventually tying off the braid and examining it. Not bad.

Somebody tackles you from behind, the woven bracelet falling from your grip and hands try to grab your wrists; you fight them off. You’re about to call for help when you finally stop to look up at your attacker; it’s the elf.

“Legolas, what are you-”

“I did warn you,” He states simply, trying to gain the upper hand in your impromptu wrestling match. The pieces fall into place inside your head, and suddenly this fight has higher stakes. You scramble out from under him and sprint as fast as you can, accidentally bumping into Merry on the way and yelling a rushed apology in his direction as you flee.

Behind this boulder, around this corner, down this ledge- oh no. A hand grabs your arm, and down you fall, Legolas immediately skittering his fingers over your sides.

“Ah- don’t!”

“I thought you weren’t ticklish, little one.” He smiles, and you bat at his hands in frustration.

“I’m- I’m nohohot!” To your misfortune, Legolas appears to be a deft tickler, and when he tweaks your ribs, your resolve breaks. It’s only downhill from there, the elf quickly figuring out your weak spots and using them to his advantage.

“Ahahaha-okahahahay, I yihihield! Ihihihi’m sorry!” You cry, scrunching up your neck when one hand moves to spider over the sensitive skin there.

“I didn’t ask for an apology,” he responds, squeezing your side with his other hand. By the time Legolas takes pity on you and lets you up, there are tears of mirth forming in your eyes.

You can sneak up on an elf, but you can’t outrun one, it seems.

#tickle fic #lotr #reader insert #ticklish!reader #ler!legolas #legolas #pippin #merry #aragorn

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jomeimei421 · 5 years

Note

Do you have any more non-shippy fics to recommend. I read through the entire list that you posted a while back, and I'm having trouble finging more that I like.

(the original list)

hello

Headspaces by @eponymous-rose

ALRIGHT let’s kick it off with some Recovery One!! There’s actually a criminally low number of Recovery One stuff from Doc’s persepective but the ones that we do have are OOF...amazing...It’s always interesting to see the way Recovery Wash acts to our Wash, so this sort of thing is a nice little character study on both Wash and Doc. GEN/CHARACTER STUDY

Also, EponRose has a bunch of other stuff on their Ao3 that you should check out! They’re a really versatile writer so there’s Chorus stuff, Freelancer stuff, and Red team stuff as well 👀👀👀

Waiting for Rain by @saltsanford

Speaking of Doc and Wash fics, here’s a little spin off LRBTG! After Doc leaves he goes back to Valhalla, and later when Carolina and the reds and blues pass through, he gets a chance to talk to Wash and see how he’s changed. Ft. Wash’s eternal guilt complex for shooting Donut!! GEN

Also if you haven’t read everything in Saltsanford’s library stop reading this list and go do it right now because I’m going to end up recommending all of it anyway

Home is Just a Four Letter Word by tatsumaki_sama

You’ve heard of Wash gets a cat fics...but have you read the Wash IS A CAT FIC?????

Ok though in all seriousness this fic is kind of short and sweet, and when I say sweet I mean real life Tooth Rotting brand fluff. I really wasn’t expecting to enjoy this one as much as I did, but it’s actually really cute! Also Caboose bringing home a pet and that pet just happening to be Wash is basically what happened in canon so?? FLUFF (haha)

Foreign Agent by @wordsysayswords

oh dear lord do I love this fic

Wash learns about one of the more unknown roles of being blue team leader, and exacts revenge. THATS LITERALLY ALL I CAN TELL YOU. If I say any more I’ll spoil it and MY GOD you don’t want me to do that because this fic hilarious GEN/HUMOR

Wordsy;;;;gift....to fandom...the love of my life...writing...good..can make.words go nice and I say......nice..Wordsy writes a lot of Tuckington, but a lot of it can be read as gen too! I reccomend reading some because if you just turn up your nose once it’s tagged as Tuckington you’re missing some grade A content my dude

Dog Tags by @wordsysayswords

After the Hand Of Merope crashes in the canyon, Wash finds himself collecting dog tags and burying what’s left of the crew. His team helps.

Another glorious masterpiece from Wordsy, (whom I love and who has never wronged me except for Blind Date Chapter 8 I Will Never Forgive Never Forget) and this time it’s sort of dark lmao?? But you can probably gather that from the summary. I always thought that the Hand Of Merope crashing was sort of similar to the Mother of Invention crashing and Wordsy kinda went “I got you” and? Like it’s so important to Wash that these people be remembered and I’m like??? Babey... ANGST/HURTCOMF

World So Cruel by @goodluckdetective

The fight off of Charon’s ship against Malcom Hargrove goes awry. One two survive, one red and one blue. ANGST

So you know that hit list I have with all the authors of Bitter Pill on it? Yeah, Iz is at the very top of that list because of this monstrosity that broke into my house and held me at gunpoint. Hear that, Iz? I’m gonna get you. I’ll get you.

This is part of the Darkest Timline AU, and I reccomend checking out An Ending too if you’re still alive after reading World so Cruel

Wars Behind My Face and Above My Throat by tumbleoutyourhair

Wash, and a few times he told people “it’s nothing.” ANGST/HURTCOMF

Ok this one is tagged as Tuckington, but there’s nothing inherently shippy and it’s way too good to omit from this list so you’re getting it anyway!!!!!

Man we sure are getting a lot of angst in this list huh? Wash is resident cockroach right? So he’s always eventually fine, but in the moment when he’s not fine and he insists that he will be and continues to pull increasingly ridiculous feats of self sacrifice...well, that kind of ends up bothering some people.

Cockroaches by @hylian-reptile

Speaking of Wash being a cockroach, here’s some goood old fashioned Merc Wash AU!

This fic is UP THERE with Back To Prison and that one excerpt from PMITG. The concept is the same as always, the reds and blues leave Wash in the snow and he gets put on the USS Tartarus and is eventually picked up by the mercs. I love the!! Sharkface and Aiden Price and how they interact!! It’s honestly a shame that I only recently remembered it existed YIKES because it would have been on that first list ANGST

The Good Stuff and The Better Stuff by @wordsysayswords

Alright, I think that’s enough angst for one recc list, so we’re closing it off with two more of Wordsy’s fluff fics

The Good Stuff: Tucker is injured and gets high off his ass on pain meds. Wash gets stuck looking after him helps out. GEN/HUMOR

The Better Stuff: Wash is injured and gets high off his ass on pain meds. Tucker gets stuck looking after him helps out. GEN/HUMOR

Tagged as Tuckington but not inherently shippy and also?? loopy/drunk Tucker is always a win; it’s way too good to pass up

#rvb #mei talks #rvb fic #agent washington #red vs blue #fic recs

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thundrpilot · 5 years

Text

Marvel Fic Rec 4/∞

Marvel Fic Recs: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] Here’s a link for the entire Masterlist. ( ** = favorites )

@defnotspidey by lucy_blue

Word count: 2,993 (9/?)

Summary: Spider-Man @defnotspidey @mothmemes Radioactive spider bit me

Calcalust @thelancelotoftherevolutionaryset @defnotspidey @mothmemes Sounds fake but ok

**The A-Team Challenge by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so

Word count: 7,836 (5/5)

Summary: Tony Stark just wants to keep Peter Parker on the down low. Heaven forbid Spiderman do something stupid, like go viral.

OR: Peter Parker accidently patents the superhero equivalent of the ice bucket challenge.

Promotions Aren’t Always A Good Thing by agib

Word count: 67,076 (7/7)

Summary: "When Peter was almost thirteen, May met Carter." "Not too many months after Carter moved in, May got a promotion at work."

When May gets a new boyfriend, Peter's okay. When Carter moves in, he can deal. When May gets a promotion so she works days and Carter works nights, Peter finds it harder to deal. When Carter starts abusing him, he begins to feel crushed by the weight of it all.

(The classic Peter whump fic where May gets a new boyfriend and he abuses Peter.)

**Caption That by maddo

Word count: 2,712 (1/1)

Summary: Peter’s Instagram had been pretty popular since Instagram’s account noticed and reposted one of his photos, an impossible angle of the New York skyline (thank you Spider-Man) and was floating at around twenty thousand followers.

Then suddenly, @pparker was in the top 100 most followed Instagram accounts.

Just a bunch of little anecdotes regarding our favourite spider and his Instagram account, feat. a meme-tastic Tony Stark.

No Reason To Go by Pokegeek151

Word count: 5,518 (2/2)

Summary: When the location of the chemistry field trip is revealed to be none other than Peter's home of Stark Tower, Peter decides to skip the awkwardness and spend the time working on his own projects.

Who gives a damn about the family you come from? by tempestaurora

Word count: 3,924 (1/1)

Summary: It started with a harmless Instagram story on Peter's account. Then Tony Stark reposted it. Then Peter Parker's account blew up.

Harley Keener's there because he likes to watch the world burn.

AKA the social media au we need in these trying times

Comments: Part 1 of 10 in the wayward sons series, which might be my favorite series yet.

Happy To Be Stuck With You by Pudding_and_madness

Word count: 16,362 (5/6)

Summary: There are very few things in life that can come as a surprise to Eddie Brock.

The woman he was going to marry leaving him without a second thought, a bunch of hitmen trying to kill him, and an alien symbiote invading his mind and body were all events that were pretty hard to one up, and Eddie didn’t even know which one was worse.

So naturally, when he read the eviction notice on the door of his apartment a mere week after shit went down in San Francisco, he was not particularly upset.

Comments: Fluffy.

**where our heart is by Yuu_chi

Word count: 23,225 (6/?)

Summary: “By signing the above form, you waive the right to sue the Life Foundation or any of its subsidiaries and holdings in the event of injuries sustained during the course of the experiment.” Eddie pauses for a second. “Up to and including death.”

Drake's smile is pleasant and faintly terrifying. “A mere formality. Are you signing or shall I ask security to see you back out?”

Eddie thinks for a moment about saying no; about ripping up this dumb form and heading out the door where - where what? Where his favourite park bench was waiting? Where he had no home, no family, no life?

No, he was seeing this through. For his reputation, for the others who had already gone missing; for the truth.

Comments: AU where Eddie participated in Drake’s trials. I love love fics dealing with codependency.

The Ostrich Strategy by NamelesslyNightlock

Word count: 53,466 (7/7)

Summary: Loki’s plan for evading Odin is less a plan and more a series of increasingly ridiculous hiding places, almost all of which are apparently in Tony Stark’s mansion. Tony isn’t too happy with the Norse god that keeps showing up unannounced and destroying his living room, but he’s good at making the best out of a bad situation. Thor just wishes his brother would stay in one place for five minutes and all Steve wants is for Tony to stop flirting long enough to help save the world. In the end, they all get what they’re after– just perhaps not in the manner they had come to expect.

Comments: Part 1 of 5 in the when plans go awry series.

Academic Commitment by underoosstark

Word count: 5,254 (1/1)

Summary: Peter had faced death countless times. He’d joined Mr. Stark in fighting the Rogue Avengers, fought Toomes and his gang, and stopped countless robberies and muggings. He was used to feeling fear - it came with the job description.

But that fear came nowhere close to the pure terror he felt at the prospect of having a meet and greet session with actual-freaking-Captain-America.

(Set post-Spider-man Homecoming, but pre-Infinity War because who needs to worry about that stuff, lmao. It’s in a perfect world where the Accords were eventually agreed upon, and the Avengers are back together. Because yay, happy endings!)

These Hands Could Hold The World (But It’ll Never Be Enough) by josywbu

Word count: 9,764 (1/1)

Summary: 5 times Tony goes to Peter's school and the 1 time Peter's class visits Stark Industries.

How (Not) to Lay Low at Stark Industries by GoingNova

Word count: 8,627 (1/1)

Summary: Peter just wanted to keep a low profile during the decathlon team's field trip to Stark Industries. But the universe, it seems, has it out for him.

As usual.

obligatory SI field trip fic combined with my own desperate need for more spideytorch

Comments: Part 1 of 3 in the Interning at Stark Industries series.

I Just Thought by possiblyobsessed

Word count: 9,136 (7/7)

Summary: People are coming forward all the time saying they are/have Tony Stark’s child. Others are sure that he has a child out there. It’s only natural that when he starts hanging out with a child everyone assumes Peter is his. He’s only slightly offended that the people close to him believe it.

Five times someone thought Peter was Tony’s biological child and the one time someone knew he wasn’t.

Includes a little bonus chapter.

Marvel Fic Recs: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] Here’s a link for the entire Masterlist.

#marvel fanfic rec #spider-man fic rec #iron man fic rec #peter parker fic #tony stark fic #field trip au #avengers fic #pepper potts #may parker #mj #ned leeds #gen fic #mufr #mine #Cam's fic rec

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voicedimplosives · 6 years

Note

A (fetch), N, S!

helloooo dear chel! asks, for me?! let’s do this thing!

A: How did you come up with the title to go i know not whither and fetch i know not what?

lmao i wanted to use the most complicated, hardest to remember, most frustrating title possible. (JOKING)

no the real answer is that i knew i wanted to borrow the title from a russian folk/fairy tale. i searched around for a while, and my first idea was actually something like ‘starina/bylina’, which is just the name for that kind of epic story [imagine how much easier i would have made my life].

but i LOVE go i know not whither, as a title, and i had actually used it in a first draft of another fic that i never finished/posted. i think it just speaks to the hopelessness that kyril feels throughout the fic, the fatalism with which he views his life and his position: like, if you want to be free, there are things you must do… but what things? where are they? he knows not. freedom, to kyril, is an impossible task. and in the context of the fairy tale, it is designed to be. basically the story– or my understanding of it, from wikipedia lol– is that a king falls hard for a hunter’s wife, and gives him increasingly difficult tasks in an attempt to get him killed, so he can get at the wife. [by the way the wife, who is magical, and the hunter seem to have a solid and supportive marriage so jot that down. she repeatedly helps him out with these ridiculous tasks.]

from wikipedia:

This time, the steward tells the king to send the hunter to “go I know not whither and bring back I know not what.” The wife conjures spirits and all the beasts and birds to see if they know how to “go I know not whither and bring back I know not what.” Then she goes out to sea and summons all the fish. But none of them can help her, so she gives him a ball, which if rolled before him would lead him where he needs to go, and a handkerchief, with directions to wipe his face with it whenever he washes. He leaves. The king sends a carriage for his “wife”. She turns back into a bird and leaves.

Her husband finally comes to “Baba Yaga”. She gives him food and lets him rest; then she brings him water to wash. He wipes his face not with their towel but his handkerchief. She recognizes it as their sister’s. She questions him, and he tells his story. The old witch, who had never heard of something like that, knows an old frog who she thinks may know something.

and on and on it goes, until eventually the hunter ends up as a king in his own right, fights and wins a war with the other king, and lives HEA. N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

oh man i would not want to put pressure on another writer to finish their wip, but is there a fic i wish someone would write? i mean i love a well-researched [you know how i feel about research chel], multi-chapter historical au epic. you know what period i find fascinating, and which i don’t know a lot about? everything between the fall of the roman empire and the renaissance. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ there are some amazing fics out there like @hagenshall‘s Salt in the Blood and @poethrotsvitha‘s Fortune’s Throne/Tithe and @mygrandmathinksimsassy‘s She Who Would Be Queen, and i would read approximately 10 million more fics set in any of these time periods/places. [if anyone has any recs please send them my way!!]S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

i think it’d probably be easier to say which ones i can resist. i love tropes. only one bed? YES. fake marriage/relationship? i’m there. enemies to lovers? gimme. i actually just looked up tropes on fanlore to see if there are any for which i have a particular weakness, and here are the ones that stood out: historical au, ABO, dystopia/apocalypse, arranged marriage, isolated/trapped somewhere [especially a canadian sex shack], missing scenes, sex pollen [i am trash, preemptive apologies], angst [duh], hurt/comfort, PWP. i am weak for all of these, and many more.

thank you @destinieswritten for sending this my way and SORRY FOR RAMBLING THIS LONG OH GOD I’M DONE NOW I PROMISE

#asks #destinieswritten #research deserves more love and appreciation frankly

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littlespoonevan · 7 years

Text

turn my blue heart to red

Ahh so this is for Skam Fic Week - Day 5: Work Colleagues which is a personal favourite of mine :’))))

since i’m dYING for a doctors au and basically none exist i gave in and wrote one myself sdjkhfkasj title comes from Bad Case of Loving You by Robert Palmer bc i wanted something doctor related lmao enjoy <333

Isak collapses on the counter of the nurses’ station, burying his face in his arms and letting out a pained groan. “Why do I always end up treating Mr Olson? His personal hygiene routine makes me feel like I need to take a turn in the chemical shower.”

Jonas gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and Isak raises his head, using his crossed arms to brace himself against the counter while he looks forlornly from Jonas to Mahdi. “What did I do to deserve this?” he moans. “Is this what I spent a million years at med school for?”

“Just be thankful you’re not the one giving him a sponge bath,” Mahdi reminds him with a grimace.

“Or helping him to the bathroom,” Jonas shudders and Isak feels a little better.

“Are you guys on break soon?” Isak asks hopefully. “I wanna get lunch.” Not that he has much of an appetite after that but he needs coffee.

“We can probably sneak away when Eva gets back,” Jonas says, glancing up at the clock.

“I think Mags is finishing up his rounds soon too,” Mahdi adds, taking out his phone presumably to text Magnus – which isn’t exactly professional but all their patients are safely in their beds, they don’t need to know.

Isak is about to ask if they’ve heard what the cafeteria special is today when two hands are suddenly gripping his waist and making him jump. He whirls around, half-expecting to find one of his handsier patients, and rolls his eyes when his gaze lands on Even.

“Did I scare you?” Even asks teasingly, waggling his eyebrows as he leans casually against the counter beside Isak.

“Never,” Isak scoffs, sending a fierce scowl in Jonas’ direction when he catches him smirking at them both. Jonas is under the ridiculous impression he and Even have a crush on each other which is not true.

“Did I hear you discussing lunch plans?” Even asks then, smile softening when he looks at Isak but still bright enough to make Isak’s stomach trip over itself.

(Okay, maybe it’s a little true.)

Even in his paediatrics scrubs covered in yellow ducks and his white lab coat, with his quiff wilting and probably running on about five hours sleep, Even still manages to look devastatingly handsome. Isak is both jealous and a little turned on, to be honest.

“Yeah, I was gonna grab something while I’ve got time between rounds,” Isak says.

“But we’re still waiting for Eva to come back to man the station before we leave,” Jonas explains.

“Hey, did you see Mags?” Mahdi asks. “He should be finishing up soon, right?”

Magnus works in paediatrics with Even and every kid that comes into the hospital absolutely adores the both of them. Isak’s not surprised with their sunny demeanours and caring personalities. They always know just how to make the kids calm down and make them feel comfortable staying in the ward. He can’t imagine two better people for the job.

“He’ll probably be awhile. Emilie is back again so…” Even trails off but the others nod in understanding. Emilie has been coming to the hospital since she was a toddler and since Magnus was an intern. They still can’t pin down an official diagnosis for her but Magnus is incredibly attached.

“Well, why don’t you two just go for lunch and we can join later?” Jonas offers, throwing Isak a subtle grin like he just did him a favour. Isak hates him a little – and loves him a lot. “Who knows when Eva will be back?”

“If you’re sure?” Even checks, turning to Isak with a beaming smile after both Mahdi and Jonas nod their acquiescence. “Looks like I get to steal you for a while.”

“You’re not a very good kidnapper if you tell me in advance,” Isak points out, making Even bark out a laugh.

“Whatever. Dump your lab coat in the locker room and grab your hoodie,” Even says, latching onto Isak’s arm and tugging on it. “I’m taking you out for lunch; that cafeteria food isn’t good for us.” With a quick wave at Mahdi and Jonas, Even starts dragging him away from the nurses’ station and Isak is helpless but to follow him.

After depositing their coats in the locker room and changing into their regular jackets Even eagerly leads them out of the main entrance of the hospital and sets them off down the street.

“Where are we going?” Isak asks – not that he really cares when he gets to spend time alone with Even but it seems like the appropriate question to ask.

“What about that café at the end of the street?” Even asks, nodding vaguely in the direction of said café. “They do good sandwiches and stuff.”

“Why can’t we just get a kebab?” Isak complains, hiding his smile in the collar of his bomber jacket when his words have the desired effect of making Even sigh dramatically.

“Isak, you’re a doctor,” Even chastises. “Kebabs are not a substantial meal to get you through the day.”

“But cheese toasties are?” Isak asks wryly.

Even casts him a sidelong glance, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Well, my ones are.”

“Then why aren’t we going back to Casa Bech Næsheim?”

“Too far,” Even answers as if Isak hadn’t been joking. “Don’t worry; I’ll make you dinner someday.”

Isak falters at that, stumbling a step and hurriedly righting himself again before Even notices. It’s- see, sometimes Even says things and it- it makes it sound like Jonas might actually be right…

But Isak mostly tries to push it out of his head. Relationships between colleagues are complicated and besides, he values Even’s friendship so much he can’t imagine fucking that up if he were wrong. Even has been there for him since Isak’s very first day when he was a useless intern having a panic attack in a closet after witnessing a patient crash.

Even had just started his first year fully qualified and had helped Isak calm down and bought him hot chocolate afterwards before totally covering for his ass with the other doctors when they came back to the ward. He’s one of Isak’s oldest friends at the hospital – besides Sana who he actually entered the programme with – and Isak doesn’t know what he’d do without him.

“You will?” Isak asks, belatedly with surprise too evident in his voice.

But Even takes his response in his stride and flashes Isak a grin. “Of course! I can’t always feed you takeout, I’m definitely not leading by example.” He pauses to laugh before looking excitedly at Isak again. “Tell you what, next time we both have a Friday night off I’ll blow you away with my culinary skills.”

The chances of them both having a Friday night off are pretty much slim to none at the moment but Isak lets himself hope anyway. “Deal.”

Lunch is nice. Neither of them get called back to the hospital so they can actually eat in peace and they try their best to keep their conversation off their patients. It’s not easy considering both of their social lives are basically non-existent at the moment but still. Even tells him about his friends and some new bar they’d found last week when Even had actually been able to join them for drinks. Isak mostly talks about Eskild since he’s the only person in Isak’s life not related to the hospital somehow, telling Even about the movie night they’d had the other night when Isak had gotten home at a reasonable time for once.

“A movie night!” Even exclaims. “That’s what we’re doing when I cook for you. I need to educate you.”

“I know plenty about movies!” Isak protests and that’s a big fat lie, honestly.

Even gives him a disbelieving look. “No offence, Isak. I love you and everything but you’re horribly uncultured.”

Isak would hit back with a quick retort – he really would – but his brain is a little too stuck on the first half of Even’s sentence. He knows he doesn’t mean it like that, he knows Even is kidding, but try telling his heart and his overactive imagination that.

“We should probably get back,” Even says with a sigh, checking his watch after what feels like far too little time.

Isak nods and tries in vain to fight Even for the check but Even bats him away with a pointed, “Nope! My treat.”

God, he makes it so fucking hard for it not to feel like a date.

“What time are you finished today?” Isak asks when they’re walking back. Tomorrow’s his afternoon shift and he’s itching to get a chance to hang out with Even for a little longer on his own. They’ve barely seen each other in the past couple of weeks with the hospital getting increasingly busier as the cold weather settles in, making the number of road accidents skyrocket. And every time they are around each other everyone else is usually around too. Which, Isak likes everyone else…just not as much as he likes Even.

“I’m on call until Friday,” Even says with a half-smile, looking more resigned than happy about the fact. “So the likelihood of me actually getting to sleep in my own bed tonight is pretty slim.”

Isak’s shoulders drop and he tries not let his dejectedness show. Even probably spots it anyway – he’s way too adept at reading Isak. Throwing his arm over Isak’s shoulder, he reels him in close, tucking Isak against his side. After a moment of mild panic, Isak manages to relax into him.

“Swing by the on-call room when you’re done later and give me a hug before you go,” he says, squeezing Isak’s shoulder. “It’ll get me through a night of interrupted sleep on a shitty bed.”

Again, sometimes Even says things.

Still, Isak is helpless to deny him, reluctantly slipping out from underneath Even’s arm as they step through the hospital doors.

When they’re changing back into their lab coats in the locker room Even stops just before they’re about to part ways. “So can I expect a call from Dr Valtersen later?” he checks, eyes sparkling and playful and making Isak desperately wish kissing was a regular thing they did.

Instead, he steels himself, gives Even his signature charming smile and says, “Just for you.”

Isak can’t wait for the end of his shift.

#evak #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #skam #skamficweek #my fics

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