#this got a little wistful oops!!

[sadhours]

READING FOR PLEASURE

billy hargrove x f!reader

a/n: this was inspired by @billyhargrovetitties story Cruel Summer, if you haven’t read it… you must. I am obsessed with it.

summary: billy finds your romance novel and teases you about it

warnings; 18+ minors dni, pure smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, billy doesn’t pull out and he panics, oops 🙊

When you return to your bedroom, Billy’s laid out on the bed, on his stomach and propping his head up with his elbow. It’s a cute sight, makes your stomach flip and fill with butterflies as a dirty blonde curl falls in the center of his forehead. You smile warmly and then glance down to see he’s got the romance novel you’d hidden in your bedside table spread out before him and he’s reading it with this all too satisfied grin on his face. When he gazes towards you, the grin meets his eyes, crinkling them up.

“Found your porn stash,” he teases, closing the cover but keeping his fingers tucked into the page he was on. “A Gentle Feuding,” he reads the title out loud with this exaggerated wistfulness to his voice and you know your face is all kinds of shades of crimson. You hope Billy hadn’t noticed the man portrayed on the cover somewhat resembles him, blonde and tan, and that’s why you’d picked the novel in the first place.

“It’s historical,” you lamely reason, lunging forward to grab the book from him but Billy’s reflexes are as quick as a cats. He pulls it out of your fingertips and you attempt to snatch it again, but he pulls it back and you go toppling over him. Billy uses the leverage to flip the both of you over and he’s straddling your waist, holding the book over his head when you reach towards it.

“Historical filth,” he counters, cheeks a little flush from the shuffle of your bodies but that grin permanently smeared on his face.

“Billy,” you whine, “Give it here. It’s embarrassing…”

As you raise your hands to grab it again, Billy grabs your wrists with his right hand and holds them down against your chest. Your whole body feels tight with humiliation and you choke back the tears forming in your eyes. God, you could be such a baby sometimes.

That’s why Billy liked you, though. You acted like such a good girl all the time, he was relieved to find the raunchy book because it let him know that deep down, you were a little vixen and his attempts to draw it out of you had been mostly failures. You two had already slept together, just one time and whenever it came to fooling around, you were so shy.

“This thing is worn,” he comments, looking over the novel in his hand, “How many times have you read it?”

“None of your beeswax,” you huff, “Give it here, Billy. Seriously!”

As you plead, you squirm under his grip, trying to get your arms free so you can rip the book from his hand and maybe destroy it. You haven’t decided, you’re so incredibly embarrassed but it is one of your favorites.

Billy tilts his head ever so slightly, “Should I read some of it to you?”

“No!” you shriek, eyes widening up at him but a part of you is very intrigued. Billy’s voice is like honey, the timbre of it is deliciously low like it comes deep from his throat. You’re suddenly very interested in hearing him read it out loud but you’re still full of shame that he’s found the book. Your hiding place wasn’t very good but enough that your parents or siblings hadn’t found it. Of course, Billy is far snoopier than they are and you should’ve anticipated that when you went to pee, he would be going through your things.

Billy places the book down and moves your wrists to your sides, adjusting his legs so he can pin your arms underneath them. He smiles at you, retrieving the book again and flipping to the first page he’s dog-eared.

“Ya know, there’s a lot of like, bullshit in this book,” he muses, “They don’t even fuck until like almost the end of the book. And then after that it’s like more blah blah blah—“

“It’s called plot,” you argue, voice shakier than you meant for.

The blonde snorts, peering down at you, “I can get you some magazines, ya know? You don’t have to do any reading to get to the good part.”

“I don’t read it for the…” you can’t bring yourself to say the word.

“The filth? Really?” he hums, “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” you lie, wriggling beneath him.

Billy licks his lips, “Let’s see… oh, here’s where it starts getting good; ‘His hand goes somewhere unexpected. Lydia’s eyes widen as the duke’s warm, strong hand smoothes up her milky, white thighs.’.”

“Billy,” you warn, eyebrows knitting closer. It’s as sexy as you imagined but you didn’t entirely anticipate Billy would be so good at reading aloud, it’s almost like he’s practiced with it. He doesn’t stumble over any of the words like you do when you have to read aloud in class.

“Shh,” he shushes you around a smug smirk, “‘Her liquid desire seeps out as he ruffles her petticoat up to her waistline,’ Liquid desire. I like that. Clever way to say she’s wet.”

“Stop!” you protest but the words are purging your own ‘liquid desire’ and you’d rather Billy not have the satisfaction.

“Spicy stuff here. But then the dude only fingers her,” Billy complains with a disappointed frown and flips to the second page he’s dog-eared. “Ah, here we go, I really love this line: ‘Lydia writhes against Arthur but her body freezes as she feels his hardened cock pressed against her stomach.’” He lets out a short laugh, “They actually wrote cock. That’s hilarious.”

You raise an eyebrow, “What word would you use?”

“Cock, definitely, but it’s not a classy word. I thought they’d say like penis or something,” he retorts, biting his lip as he looks to your flushed face.

“Penis isn’t a sexy word,” you argue and feel yourself squirm against him, not because you want him to stop but you want to keep him under the impression you do.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Billy agrees and then asks, “Cock turns you on, though?”

Billy’s sorely mistaken if he thinks you’ll admit to that, no matter how true it is. You shoot him an annoyed look and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He always does that so loud, you’re left impressed each time. You’d tried to do it as loud as he does on nights when you’re bored and alone but it’s never quite as good.

“Lemme see…” his eyes scan the worn pages, “Ooh, this I like: ‘She gyrated the softest part of her against the hardest of him.’”

You also liked that line, it made you think of Billy every time you read it.

“Also, do these chicks ever write about small dicks? They’ve mentioned how huge this duke is like twelve times,” he wonders aloud, lifting the book so he can look down at you.

“Sympathetic?” you bite back, wanting to tease Billy for how he’s teasing you.

“Oh, honey,” he chuckles, “you and I both know damn well I ain’t small.”

“Then they’re representing you,” you point out with a wavering smile.

Billy tsks, and then lets out a giggle, thumbing through the pages again. As he finds a particularly dirty passage and begins reading it, you can see his pants tightening over his crotch. You raise an eyebrow, flicking your eyes back up to his face but Billy is too distracted by the words he’s reading to notice.

“Well, well, well,” you say in a teasing tone.

He averts his eyes, seeing that his hard-on is pretty damn obvious in his jeans and you’ve got the perfect view of it. He actually blushes, the reddening hiding his freckles and he closes the book, tossing it behind him as he gazes down at you with his nose scrunched up.

“What?”

“You seem to like it, Billy,” you purr, not trying to suppress the giggle rising from your throat.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, scooting back and releasing your arms. They’ve kind of gone numb from the position under his legs but you don’t mind, you enjoyed every second of it. “If I reach in your pants, you’re gonna be just as obnoxiously turned on.”

“I’m the one who owns the book, Billy,” you challenge with a pleased smirk.

“So you admit it then, you read it for the filth,” he quips.

“I’ll admit that if you admit it gave you a boner.”

“I think that’s pretty obvious,” he mumbles, positioning himself between your legs and hooking his fingers into the elastic band of your sweats. He pulls them down and you lift your legs to help expel them. Billy tosses them to the floor and spreads your thighs, biting his lip as he brushes his knuckles against your clothed heat. A raspy moan is ripped from you, back arching as his knuckle brushes against your aching clit.

“Oh, Billy…”

“I can just see that ‘liquid desire’ soaking through your panties,” he muses, voice rough but the term brings a laugh from the both of you. It also makes you that much wetter.

“Oh my god,” you mutter through the laugh, “You’re never gonna let that go.”

Billy hums, pushing his nose against where his knuckles just were, “Don’t think you really want me to.” His breath tickles the skin where your thigh meets your pelvis and you inhale sharply. Your thighs tingle, heat rising up them and it’s almost overwhelming. Then you feel Billy’s stubble against the flesh of your thigh and his teeth follow, biting at your skin lightly. Your body jolts at the touch and your thighs open even wider, urging Billy to return his movements to where you want him most. His lips curl up as he rests his cheek against your inner thigh, eyes peering up at you. His pupils are so dilated, you can barely see the ocean blue around them.

“I want you,” he admits, smoothing his palm over your core and resting his fingertips against your pubic bone.

The admission draws a deep moan from you because he looks so adorable between your legs but the palm on you and the words make you desire him so deeply it almost hurts. Billy wants you. The idea itself makes your thighs tremble and your hands shoot down to rake your fingers through his dirty blonde curls.

“You have me,” you breathe but wonder how you look at his perspective and it forces you to prop yourself up on your elbows, wanting to look as pretty for him as possible.

“Can I have you?” he asks, pushing his palm harder against your center.

“Yes, Billy,” you pant out.

He sits back up, peeling your underwear off of you and then settling back down between your legs. He kisses tenderly at your thighs, brushing the tip of his finger against your dripping hole. The noise that pushes from your lips is desperate yet a thankful noise, you’ve been wanting Billy to touch you like this since he straddled you earlier. He makes a surprised but happy sound in return, swiping his tongue against your labia experimentally. The warm, wetness of it is welcomed while it’s not distinctly pleasurable, it feels really nice. His single digit penetrates you slowly while he continues to lick your pussy lips. It’s excruciating, but you know he’s doing it with purpose. The first time Billy had touched you intimately, he done the same. Teasing you with touches that were close to where you wanted but not quite there. You’d come to learn that Billy wanted you to plead and beg for him. Which you weren’t exactly confident doing yet. You still felt reserved and a little shame in asking for what you wanted. That’s presumably what got your boyfriend off: pushing you out of your comfort zone and breaking down those societal expectations.

“Billy,” you whine out, tugging at his curls.

“What?” he asks like he knows exactly what you want, a smile present in his voice.

You flush, you weren’t going to get the relief unless you explicitly requested it. You knew this and it makes your throat tighten and your mouth feel dry, tongue heavy in your mouth. You chew on your lower lip as you muster up the courage to put your desire into words.

“Not enough,” you whisper, timidly, “I want more.”

“More?” he pouts up at you, “Tell me what more means.”

“Lick…” you flush, closing your eyes as you try to gain the confidence.

“Lick what?”

“My pussy,” you breathe out, pulling his hair gently.

“I am,” he smirks, “You want me to lick here?” He presses the tip of his tongue to your clit and your head falls back against the mattress,

“Yes!”

He hums and then flicks his tongue against the sensitive bud, the fingers of his left hand digging into your thigh. It’s warm and oh so wonderful as he puts his mouth entirely on you, licking through your folds before focusing on your clit and lapping against it, nose brushing against the curls above your center. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. The two of you are completely alone for at least another few hours but you’re accustomed to keeping quiet, trying to keep your pants and moans of pleasure at a reasonable volume. Billy’s tongue proves to make it difficult. It’s just as fit as the rest of his body.

“Lemme,” he grunts as he pulls away, pushing your top up your chest and he exhales when your chest is exposed. You’d intentionally skipped putting your bra on today, knowing Billy was coming over. He palms at your breasts, squeezing gently as he moves up to suck hour nipple into his mouth. It feels amazing, not nearly as great as his mouth on your pussy but this is a little more intimate. You can see him better up here, how pink and plump his lips are and the way his eyelashes curl. Billy is single handedly the most attractive person you’ve laid eyes on and here he is, mouthing at your chest.

“Baby…” you whimper as he adds a second finger inside of you.

It’s all a little overwhelming but feels too damn good to stop. You’re in too deep, you’d follow Billy like a lamb to slaughter. As his fingers curl up and drag against your spongy spot, you cry out. You don’t know how much more you can take, suddenly desperate to feel his cock filling you up and stretching you out in the most beautiful way. It’ll be your second time of what you hope to be a life full of.

“Want—“ you gasp, grabbing onto his sleeve. “Want you so bad, Billy.”

He smirks up at you before sitting back on his heels. He pulls his Henley over his head and placing it next to your body. You reach out and feel the contours of his muscular pecs, brushing the pads of your fingertips against his stiff nipple. He’s like one of those Greek statues, sculpted beautifully but unlike the marble, his skin is so soft. He bites the side of his lower lip as he smiles, his eyes squinting with the expression. He’s so damn beautiful, your heart swells.

“You’re…” the compliment dies on your tongue as you suddenly feel demure.

“I’m what?” he breathes, anticipation present in his drawl.

“Everything,” you admit, bashfully.

You think you see him blush, you can’t be sure because Billy’s leaning down to kiss you. It’s a dizzying kiss, you rock your hips up with it as he pulls desire out of you. You meant it, he’s everything to you, everything for you. He’s it for you and if he’s not, there’s gonna be a helluva heartbreak. No one has been so easy to be around. Billy’s like your best friend, he makes you laugh and cry and cum. What the hell else do you ever need besides this man above you?

“Fuck,” he curses, hand on your shoulder as he pulls away, “My dicks so fucking hard it hurts.”

The complaint is nothing but a masked compliment. You widen your legs, moving your hands down to his hips so you can grind up against his clothed erection. “Need you,” you inform him breathlessly.

“You have me,” he smirks, smoothing his thumb against your cheekbone. “Can I fuck you?”

You know he asks because it’s only the second time it’s happening, or could be. You decided long ago that you wanted it, but he doesn’t know that.

“Need you to,” you counter, the walls breaking down slowly. Billy is good at urging the desperation out of you. You're sure he could persuade you into murder, or something nearly as awful.

Billy grunts, pulling away long enough to rid himself of his jeans and boxers. His cock sprouts up and slaps against his abs, angrily hard and you notice his tip is leaking more than you’ve seen before. Your mouth waters at the sight but you’re too eager to blow him. You’re clenching simply at the sight and promise of him burying his cock inside your fluttering cunt. Billy crashes his lips against yours, the shaft of his cock rubs against your soaking pussy and it draws a mutual groan from the two of you. Perhaps you can write a letter to the author of the novel, express your gratitude for it being the source of this very charged moment between you and your stunning boyfriend. You even consider writing your own spicy story about him, he’s damn good inspiration. If you ever write a memoir, you hope and pray that Billy is a lasting role in it.

“Billy,” you plead against his bruising lips.

He grabs your jaw with his left hand while he grabs a hold of his cock with his right, hissing as he runs his tip through your folds. Your body shakes under his touch, hips rocking up ruthlessly from the electricity his movements bring. The romance you read is exciting but can’t compare to his in any way. You’d much rather have him in your bed every night instead of reading until you can’t handle it and hump against your pillow in search of relief. This is tenfold better.

“That feel good?” he inquires, voice hoarse. “You’re so fucking wet.”

He says the last bit like he can’t believe it and you reel from it, reveling in the fact that you can turn Billy on just by reacting to him naturally. The carnal desire in you evaporates every wall you’ve ever built up. There’s no shame left in you as you tell him, “S’all cause of you…”

“Yeah? Am I better than the book?” he asks, circling his tip against the rim of your aching entrance.

“Picture you when I’m reading it,” you pant out the confession, eyes falling shut as his hips jerk forward from your words, his tip penetrating you in an easy, fluid motion.

“Touch yourself at the thought of me?” his voice is so hoarse and the sound of it has you clenching around him. He obviously notices it but the whine that pushes passed his lips.

“Always…”

“Fuck,” he exhales, slipping deeper inside your tight cunt. His girth is a shock, but a good one. It’s only the second time. Your fingers and also his, don’t compare. But you’re thoroughly aroused and you swallow his length easily. The burn is dull and adds to the pleasure. He continues, “That’s so fucking hot.”

His face in contorted in concentration and arousal, “The thought of you fingering this tight pussy—“ he grunts, “Thinking about me fucking you.”

“This is better,” you moan, grabbing onto his bicep as he bottoms out, balls warm against your skin.

“I think about you too,” he says between clenched teeth, “When I jerk off…”

It makes your head feel heavy, you’re totally honored. The image of Billy in his bed, pulling at his cock while your name tumbles from his lips makes your hips rock forward repeatedly. He makes a whiny noise and your eyes open, wanting to see it happen again. He’s a goddamn vision, sweating above you with curls sticking to his forehead. Goddamn, he’s so intoxicatingly sexy. Sometimes you get this overwhelming urge to grab onto his face and you indulge in it now, hands pressed against his each side of his head while he pounds into you. His eyes are intense as he stares back at you, these delicious little grunts and moans leaving his lips. The room is spinning, Billy’s eyes are so consuming it feels like he’s devouring you. You’re entranced, bodies writhing against each other while you both chase a high only the other can guarantee.

“Billy—“ you choke out, “I’m.. I’m gonna…”

You can’t finish the thought as he drills into you, his hands grabbing your hips and angling them up so he drives against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Cum?” he offers, voice throaty and hoarse. “You gonna cum for me, babygirl?”

“Ahh…” you try to tell him yes but the waves of the orgasm make it impossible as it thrashes through you, your ankles crossing behind his back as he pounds into you.

The pistons of his hips are unrelenting, you’d be impressed with his stamina if you weren’t being dragged through the most demanding orgasm you’ve ever had. You’re loud, the sound of your voice is foreign, rough and guttural. Billy seems to like it, his eyebrows rising before furrowing as he pins your hips against the mattress and bucks into you brutally. His face is scrunched up and these high pitched, pretty and desperate noises he makes are so wonderfully delicious. His movements freeze and you feel his warm completion fill you up.

“Billy…” you moan at the sensation, it’s unlike anything you’ve felt and he collapses on top of you, a panting mess as his lips find yours. The kisses are frantic and sloppy. You’re not even certain they could classify as kisses. Then his eyes are wide and he’s lifting himself up.

“Fuck, oh shit,” his voice is full of panic, “Oh, god, I’m sorry.”

You’re close to passing out, but you manage to ask, “For what?”

“I came inside you,” he explains, eyes wide.

“Mhm… felt so good,” you mumble, not able to care about his terror in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I didn’t mean to… fuck,” he breathes against your cheek, “Gonna have to.. get a plan B.”

“Billy,” you sigh happily as you wrap your arms around him, “Mmm… feels so good.”

He relaxes at the realization that you’re not pissed at him and for a second, he lets himself revels in the fact that he’s just cum inside you and how amazing it felt. He gasps softly, “So good…”

#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader

[hogans-heroes]

Drabble Prompt (anon): “In honor of it being my birthday this week...buck forgetting his bday but bucky celebrating! and maybe buck forgets because his parents weren’t big on bdays growing up… but bucky makes him feel loved.”

Hope this isn't too late! Have a very happy birthday <3 This got looong oops

****

Bucky wiggled his hips and hummed along to the cheery holiday music from the radio, fully enjoying his quiet afternoon as he finished Gale’s birthday dinner. It was a simple collection of their favorite foods that were easy to make, and just as he finished setting the table the front door opened. After a bit of shuffling, Gale appeared, wearing one of Bucky’s sweaters which was too big on him, sleeves reaching his fingertips, and Bucky’s chest warmed at the sight.

“Hi baby,” he said, dumping the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink and sliding over to wrap his arms around Gale. Gale returned the cuddle and stuck his icy nose into Bucky’s neck, making Bucky yelp and ducked away. 

“Get warm by the fire,” he instructed, pulling away as Gale pouted and made grabby hands. “The chicken’s almost done anyway.”

Gale gave in and shuffled to the fireplace on the other side of the dining table, sitting on the hearth and burrowing deeper into the sweater. Bucky smiled at the sight as he carried the roasted chicken to the table, then went to fetch the cake he had picked up, quite proud of the selection if he said so himself.

“Here it is!” he said, placing it carefully on the table. It was one of those round, small-in-diameter-but-tall chocolate cakes with the rich thick icing that Gale loved but Bucky had to scrape off because it choked him with sweetness. “Don’t eat it all at once,” he instructed. “Even if it is your birthday.”

Gale raised his head with a tiny furrow in his brow. He looked at the cake, biting his lip, then glanced at Bucky. Bucky quirked an eyebrow.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“It's your birthday.”

Gale turned to look at the calendar, and slowly, realization dawned on his face. A pang struck Bucky’s stomach.

“Did you forget?” he asked.

Gale shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah, not a big deal anymore.” He stood and approached the table, a sweet smile growing on his face. “The cake looks really good.”

“Of course it’s a big deal,” Bucky insisted. “Just because you’re not a kid doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate.”

“Not much then either. Parents were busy ya know? Holidays and all.” Gale’s voice carried a slight wistfulness, like the memories were bittersweet, and Bucky forced a smile on his face. 

“Well not anymore,” he declared. “It’s the best day of the year in this house, and chocolate cake is in order. I chose the little one because I figured we could eat it all at once because there’s nothing worse than days-old cake that’s dried out and–”

Warm arms engulfed him and Bucky’s arms instinctively returned the embrace. Gale squeezed him hard, rocking him back and forth a little.

“Thank you,” he murmured in Bucky’s ear. “You’re an angel, you know that?”

A lump of emotion tightened in Bucky’s throat. He drew one arm tighter around Gale’s waist and cupped the side of his head with the other, pressing kisses to his temple and sweet-smelling hair.

#buck x bucky #masters of the air #mota #fics #thanks for the ask! #my mota drabbles

[diodellet]

Hello, I saw your valentines post and thought I might join in

I'd really like prompt 3, the one with the dream if them , and Azul from twst

He's my fav of the twst cast and a comfort character (❁´◡`❁)

my pronouns are they/them/he/him, so do whatever you like with that info

maybe it's just me, but in a dream someone would have to do something cute and/or sweet in it to get me flustered and avoiding them (lol I'm weak to fluff but not really spice)

Anyways, I hope you have a lovely day or night and I wish the best of luck to you!

💌Azul Ashengrotto + Prompt #3 (Seeing them in your dreams, being too flustered to face them in real life.)

Dreams end at the most climactic moment. That is to say, right when the zombies catch you or as soon as you hit the ground. The same holds true for good dreams especially.

Which brings you to your current predicament. 

The details were fading away, all that remained burned into your mind were those final moments—a wistful piano instrumental filling the air, the feeling of your hand in his as he led you in a slow dance, a lightness taking over your body as if you were floating, the steady heat of his palm against yours lingering even after you’ve woken up.

Of course, to be further spited by fate, the both of you are paired for a short research paper, carefully looking through the reference section of the library. Together.

“—if we could find more literature on—Hm? Is something the matter?” Azul looks up from the book he was skimming through.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve just got a few things on my mind.” You play it off with a wave of your hand.

He levels a concerned look at you. “Is our class representative overworking himself again?”

“N-no, not this time. It’s nothing, just some personal business.”

“If you say so, then. But if you need a listening ear, just know that I can make room in my schedule to assist you. It would be terrible if I let a dear colleague of mine carry such a burden, wouldn’t it?” There’s something about those words, or maybe his voice, that makes your stomach uneasy. 

There are some things you know about Azul Ashengrotto definitively. Anyone can spot his flair for showmanship. He’s busy, but also approachable. Maybe distant at times, but always polite.

(Not at all like the Azul in your dream. Not like the Azul of now.)

Scratch that point about distance, you didn’t get the memo that the both of you were close enough to be dear colleagues.

But here you are, on the receiving end of his complete and utter attention. It occurs to you now how little you truly know about Azul.

The ring of the bell cuts your conversation short, and you blurt out a flimsy excuse before rushing out and leaving him alone in the library.

a/n: hiiii!! thanks for sending in a request and happy valentines day💕💕 i had a bit of challenge trying to pin down azul's chara because i kept thinking any sweet or tender gesture from him would first of all be off-putting to the target of his affection,,, and that kinda carried through in the writing,,, oops,,, these drabbles weren't meant to contain slowburn tension🤧🤧Either way this prompt was fun to write, i hope u enjoyed reading this💕💕

#where both reader and azul are observant and distant from eo #and in readers case the observations are tipping into some growing feelings oh nooooo (like its a problem) #azul wondering: damn did i say smth wrong to him? #(he has yet to realize that he likes em more than the networking benefits they give him) #methinks his rizz is in how he forgets that words like 'dear' can carry romantic connotations #azuls thinking in 5-D diplomacy so hard he accidentally seduces u typa wit #hahaha catch me banking on scotch tape headcanoning as usual #dellet-writings #dellet-asks #z3llous #azul ashengrotto x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #male reader #edit: not me copy pasting the wrong song link oof #twst #twisted wonderland

[arofili]

and caverns old

the actual prompt response for @jaz-the-bard's request of Kidnap Dads + "Stay close to me" (as opposed to my misremembered version of the prompt, oops)

this one got a little out of control, but overall I'm quite pleased with it! hope you enjoy!

also on AO3!!!

~

“Stay close to me,” Maedhros rumbled, holding out his maimed arm in front of Elrond. “Be quiet. And try not to show your fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” Elrond insisted, despite how much he trembled. Thankfully, Maedhros said nothing else, focusing instead on walking for into the dark with his sword drawn.

The path into the cave was narrow and foul-smelling, and Elrond hated every second of it. But he pressed on, because he was not afraid, and this was where the tracks had led them.

With every skitter and clatter in the dark, Elrond’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t tell if it was a bat or a rock or something far more dangerous, but everything seemed full of malice in this dark, closed space. But Maedhros kept going, and so did he.

At last there was a faint light ahead, and Elrond stifled a gasp. No creature of the Shadow could shine like that, right?

Maedhros glared at him, his face gaunt and grim in the pale light, and Elrond shrank back into silence. The message was clear: Be quiet.

As they neared the light, Elrond heard the sound of...voices? But it was muffled, distorted, wrong. For all he was named for a cave, he hated this, and finally admitted to himself just how terrified he was.

(He had been named for the gleaming, vaulted caverns of Menegroth, the realm of his mother’s childhood. Not for this, a reservoir of some nameless evil.)

Maedhros tensed, then stepped out into the faint glow of a larger cavern. Elrond hesitated, but remembered: Stay close to me.

When he entered, he could not help but gasp. Small crystals shone dimly in the walls, and starlike glimmers twinkled on the ceiling. It was beautiful—not at all like the foulness of the tunnel.

A clash of steel refocused him, and he scrambled to draw his own dagger—but even as he did so, the swords dropped, and a familiar peal of laughter filled the cave with full, comforting resonance.

Maedhros let out a single harsh curse in a language Elrond did not recognize, and sheathed his sword with a murderous glare to his cackling brother.

“What’s all this?” he demanded. “Holing up in a dreadful place like this, not leaving proper trail signs—I thought some awful creature had dragged you into its den!”

“Oh, but that’s perfect, isn’t it?” Maglor said earnestly.

At the sound of his cheerful voice, Elros poked his head out from behind a rock, and Elrond immediately rushed to embrace his twin. They hated to part like this, but in the grim wastes what once had been Beleriand, it was sometimes necessary to travel in pairs, and neither of their guardians would leave the two of them alone without an adult warrior to protect them. And these days, after Amon Ereb’s fall and the fire that had scorched through the camp of Fëanorian stragglers, only the four of them remained together.

“It’s not so bad here,” Elros said with a smile. He opened his mind to Elrond, sharing the memory of how he and Maglor had discovered this place and cleansed it of any traces of true darkness. “A bit gloomy, and the glow-worms are kind of gross, but the crystals are pretty, aren’t they?”

Maedhros scowled. “How did you even find this place?”

“We’re not all that far from Nargothrond,” Maglor explained, growing wistful. “Finrod and I explored some caves nearby, a couple centuries ago, to see if there was any place worth excavating to, but...” A shadow passed over his face. “Well. It would’ve taken too much digging to make this cave useful for anything more than a secret hideout.”

“We think he and Beren might’ve stopped here on the way to Tol Sirion!” Elros added eagerly. “See, look—there’s a little bear carving in the wall here—and we found a scrap of lembas—”

“Ah, maybe.” Maglor shrugged, and Elrond gleaned he was not too convinced of that idea. “But Finrod did leave some provisions behind...and so did I, before the Nírnaeth. As a precaution.”

Maedhros groaned, and sat down heavily, his armor clanking now that he no longer needed to keep his movements quiet. “And the oppressive darkness on the way in?”

“Are you sure that’s not just you?” Maglor jibed.

Maedhros threw a loose bit of crystal at him. Maglor dodged out of the way, and Elrond jumped to catch it before it could fall and shatter.

“Well, I’ve not lost all talent for concealment spells,” Maglor said.

“This did not feel like your Song, Káno.”

“It’s not,” Maglor said. “The world above is crumbling, and Darkness seeps into every pore and vein of the land. This place was even drearier when Elros and I first rediscovered it. I...redirected the ambient Shadow to the tunnels leading in, to deter visitors, and make it livable in here. Cleansed the water, too—there’s a bit of a mineral-y trickle in the back, Elrond, if you’re thirsty.”

“And you knew I’d be stubborn enough to follow your tracks into any hell-pit,” Maedhros sighed. “Well done, I suppose.”

Maglor beamed. “Why, Nelyo, that was almost nice of you!”

“Too bad your ditties are only useful for running and hiding,” Maedhros grumbled.

Maglor huffed. “Too bad you can’t hold onto an army through something as prosaic as a wildfire!”

They were so much more than this, once upon a time. Elrond remembered it, a little: Maglor’s sweeping, dreadful battle Song at Sirion, the melodies he hummed to close wounds and give weary feet the strength to move onward; Maedhros’ firm, unyielding confidence, the sort of thing that made soldiers want to follow him to their very Dooms.

He remembered things he shouldn’t, also: star-spangled red banners flapping smartly in the winter wind, atop mightier battlements than Elrond had ever seen; cavalry surging like a river across an open plain; a hundred thousand swords ready for battle; a fierce hope driven by the love of brothers, of a golden king...

But as Beleriand rotted away and fell to pieces under the weight of a war long past due, so to did what remained of the once-noble princes of the Noldor. It made Elrond want to weep, sometimes, that he had only known these brilliant men at their lowest. And then it made him furious, because they were not blameless for their fall.

Elros leaned against him, sharing in his sorrow-anger. I know, he seemed to say, but didn’t need to, for he and Elrond were closer than words. I know.

“And what did you find?” Maglor asked.

“The Host of the Valar is drawing nearer to the Anfauglith every day,” Maedhros said, something in his tone changing as he slid back into the role of commander and strategist. “The...other hosts, in their train, still lag behind, but I suspect the remnants of the Noldor will reach the frontlines soon.”

“And I think we saw a Fëanorian banner with them,” Elrond added eagerly. “If some of our people survived the fire and joined Gil-galad’s host—”

“We cannot count on that, nor do I think any of them would be foolish enough to fly the eight-pointed star alongside the High King’s standard,” Maedhros said flatly. “If there are survivors, and they did join with their sundered kin, they must needs have forsaken their former lords and sworn fealty to the King. They cannot be counted as allies.”

“But if we talked to them—” Elrond protested.

“No.” This time it was Maglor who interrupted, his eyes troubled. “Elrond, Elros...it is too dangerous. You are too young to join the fighting, and could not do so if...” He shook his head. “Should you wish to forsake us also—”

“No!” Elrond and Elros cried as one.

“Never,” Elrond insisted.

“Not yet,” Elros said.

Elrond swallowed, and looked to his twin, but Elros’ mind was carefully closed off to him. He knew Elros did not intend to stay with their foster-fathers forever—and he, also, dreamed of a wider world—but to hear him say it...

Well. They were of one accord in this moment, at least.

“We ran into a spider nest on the way back,” Elrond said at last, breaking the heavy silence in the cavern.

“You what?” Elros exclaimed.

“They were young, and easy to kill,” Maedhros said. “I gathered some of their silk when we were done. Elrond committed himself admirably to the task.”

“Of web-collecting or monster-slaying?” Maglor asked.

“Both,” Elrond said, puffing out his chest. “I killed two of them!” He deflated a little, adding, “Well, and Maedhros killed the other eight.”

“We’ll make a warrior of you yet,” Maglor chuckled.

In Elrond’s hands, the fragment of crystal seemed to hum. Surprised, he looked down, and saw it was glowing faintly.

“No,” he said slowly, turning the glowing gem over in his hands. “I mean, I can defend myself. But you know I would rather be a healer.”

He hummed the same tone as the crystal, and felt its Song resonate deep within his fëa. He glimpsed within some trace of the Music, some unlocking of a hidden secret—

But then it shifted out of tune, and the magic was gone. Elrond shivered, then shoved the now-dull rock into his pocket.

“Elrond?” Elros asked quietly. All three of them were looking at him strangely, concern shining visibly in Maglor’s eyes, while Maedhros only looked grim.

He looked up and smiled, and for the first time in a while, he meant it entirely. “I know we can’t stay forever,” he said, “but I’m glad you brought us here, Maglor.”

Maglor tossed a meaningful glance to his brother, as if to say, See? I told you so!

“A respite, that is all,” Maedhros rumbled. He inclined his head to Maglor. “But not an ill-found one, I suppose.”

“Come on, let me show you the bear carving,” Elros said, and grabbed Elrond’s hand, tugging him further into the cavern. Elrond followed, his heart for once truly light—and he thought he heard the chiming of music all around him, a crystalline chorus reaching out to him, whispering of power and Song.

#maedhros #elrond #maglor #elros #kidnap fam #kidnap dads #silm #silmarillion #my writing #my fic #tefain nin #prompts #jaz the bard #and caverns old

[lgbtmi]

Ask Me About My Sire Issues is such a good playlist title mmghfhsjdhdhdv. can i ask what songs you have on it?

Why of course you may!!

For further context, the playlist specifically was created after a game in late november, in which Willow did some of the dumbest and most reckless things -- and ultimately ended up in prison with one of her two touch stones. After that game I wrote in character letters to the coterie and two npcs (Willow's grand-sire and the new harpy). Specifically the one to her grand-sire was a lot. The playlist is about that primarily.

Included songs are:

Áine Deane - Hopeless Måneskin - SUPERMODEL Måneskin - THE LONELIEST Paramore - 26 Paramore - Fake Happy Paramore - Forgiveness Paramore - Pool Paramore - Tell Me How Taylor Swift - Anti-Hero (Acoustic Version) Taylor Swift - Willow

In case you want further justification of where the songs come from or why they’re on the list, it’ll be under the cut <3 There’s no order to the list, so I listed them above alphabetically. I just generally always have it on shuffle. 

Áine Deane - Hopeless Very wistful vibes. Originally a love song, but there’s something about the first few lines that fit the correct Vibe and thus it is on here. Heh. Also “I’ll be broken over words you’ve never said” is a bit on the nose, because in the letter to her grand-sire Willow literally rehashed things from a game nine months prior, and like two months prior in game. Babe holds a grudge. Oops.

Måneskin - SUPERMODEL Sometimes a Toreador just gotta Toreador. In addition, Willow grew up in a religious household and briefly was addicted to speed and cocaine upon getting to the Netherlands, so it’s very fitting :3 Also just a fuckin’ banger.

Måneskin - THE LONELIEST Literally the ultimate suicide note song. Tonight really was the loneliest when she got chucked into her silly little prison cell. Until her best friend got dumped there with her in case she got hungry but heY OTHER THAN THAT.

Paramore - 26 Reality will break your heart. Survival will not be the hardest part. It’s keeping all your hopes alive when all the rest of you has died. Enough said I suppose. Like Willow was undertaking a suicide mission, so this checks out.

Paramore - Fake Happy Willow has some ✨issues ✨. She’s been in a steady mental decline since our game on December 28th 2021. We played in person for the first time, the ST organised an Elysium meeting, Willow’s grand-sire (Prince until that point) got booted out of the city and her sire got slain. But Willow is also American. She’s not asking for help, she’s keeping up appearances and pretending everything is fine until there’s no other option. This song has been the Willow-vibe for over a year. Sorry not sorry.

Paramore - Forgiveness Maybe the most ultimate song in which Willow’s bond to her grand-sire gets explored on this list. Basically ater the events of Willow’s sire getting murdered and her grand-sire leaving, she and the ex-sheriff would occasionally contact the coterie. Grand-sire wrote a letter to the coterie Tremere, because of plots hatching and the such. In that letter, the Tremere was told to tell Willow her grand-sire was sorry about what happened to her sire. Which is all fine and good, but it really irked Willow that the apology had to come to her through the Tremere. Like the least the grand-sire could have done was send her a personal message. Her grand-sire probably wants forgiveness, but Willow just can’t do it yet. 

Paramore - Pool Same vibes, really. There’s a lot of emotions there and 100% if vampires breathed, Willow might as well have drowned herself at multiple points. Me? Character issues? Can’t relate /joke.

Paramore - Tell Me How One of the two songs that were mostly on repeat as I was writing the suicide notes to the coterie. When Willow decided she might want to go on her suicide mission, she first called her grand-sire to ask for advice, even if it was absolutely terrifying. Willow is still unsure how to go about the vibes between them, and she’s probably chronically having an absolutely terrible time with it. Like when she was on the phone, the tell me how to feel about you now / let me know / do i suffocate or let go just kinda got too real???

Taylor Swift - Anti-Hero (Acoustic Version) Literally just the first verse. That’s all there is to it. Willow should not be left to her own devices, but since she doesn’t ask for help, that’s where she tends to end up all of the time. Also I really think the line ‘when my depression works the graveyard shift / all of the people / i’ve ghosted stand there in the room’ conveys a lot of correct energy about Willow. At least in her current state. 

Taylor Swift - Willow I’m going to be honest, this song is only on here because I named Willow after it as a joke. Willow was originally a concept for a one-shot and consisted out of “haha prostitute, so I guess toreador is the best clan.” When then tasked to give her a name, I thought Willow was funny because of the line ‘life was a willow and it bent right to your wind.’ 

Sometimes I consider adding more music to it, but the playlist has a vibe that’s just impeccable, so I always end up not doing that... 

I JUST REALLY LOVE THIS SILLY OC SORRY IF THIS IS A LOT OF INFO 

#my characters #vtm #vampire the masquerade #kentuckycaverats #I LOVE MY SILLY VAMPIRE SO MUCH I CRY #willow my beloved #willowtalking

[taiblogcomics]

Little Book Shop of HorrorLands

Hey there, bootleg Foo Fighters albums. Well, if it wasn't evident by the previous update, it's that time of year. It's the spooky month! And since we got a nice three weeks left, and a gap in our schedule, I have the perfect thing to slot in~

Hey did you know there were Goosebumps comic books~?

Here's the cover:

Ah, it's a metaphor. The series has more and more been a lifeless puppet dancing on strings pulled by Slappy. Did you know he's gotten his own series in the meantime since we last reviewed a book? That's scary for all kinds of reasons, none of them the author's intent. But now this series! This started up in late 2017, so the movie was already two years old by then, and the sequel won’t come out for another year. Fantastic timing all around, I guess!

So, rather than an ongoing, this series is divided into a number of small mini-series. I'm gonna count them all as one series for reviewing purposes, but technically this is merely Goosebumps: Monsters at Midnight #1. Anyways, this is definitely a first cover that tells you exactly what you're getting into. I also like the nods to other Goosebumps titles in the shop window, that's the kind of small reference I appreciate~

Speaking of references like that, kind of expect a lot of them going into this. You know exactly the sort of series this is. The comic literally opens with our main character, Mia, sighing that she should be at Camp Jellyjam right now. I'd keep a running counter of these, but it might get astronomical by the end, especially for this arc. Anyways, Mia's got an injured leg and an annoying little sister, so she's missing out on camp and not having the best summer even besides that. And Grandma won't take her go-karting or even to the candy store. Kind of a lame excuse for a grandma, then.

The trio of them pass by an old-looking bookstore, as depicted on the cover. "Cursed Editions" is at least a pretty clever store name, although I dunno if broadcasting that your merchandise is in league with the devil is the best business strategy. A cat in the window scares the younger sister, Ginny, who is kind of a nerd by the way, to contrast her athletic older sister. To demonstrate this, she calls the cat a "familiar" because it's one of her vocabulary words. She also has glasses and allergies and asthma, and so Grandma vetoes the bookstore as well, because Grandma is the least fun grandma in the history of fiction.

Further falling into her no-fun demeanor, Grandma falls asleep in front of the television while the kids are at home that night. And Ginny may be a nerd, but she's clearly the most adventurous of the lot, since she proposes to her older sister that they go out and check out that bookstore, which she remembers noting is open until midnight. Oop, she's back to nerd again. Her sister protests, since Ginny is literally hooked up to a CPAP machine right now, but Ginny offers the ultimate sibling persuasion point: she'll do Mia's chores for two weeks. Mia agrees, and the gals set out.

After a brief stop on the way due to asthma, they arrive back at Cursed Editions. Ginny's looking for a specific book she left at home when they came to visit Grandma, and figures it's scary enough that they'll have it here. Sure, but then you have two copies of the book when you get home, and what will you do then? The shopkeeper is pretty crabby at being interrupted when they walk in, but also mentions some aside of "He'll be glad you showed up" that neither girl notices in their hurry to apologise and get out of the clerk's rather wild hair.

The pair quickly get lost among the stacks and shelves, and I kind of get wistful and nostalgic for bookstores myself. I don't think I've been to one since pre-pandemic. But no bookstore I've been to had a section labelled "Sdrawkcab Skoob", and Ginny even starts speaking backwards once she pulls one off the shelf. Oh, Zatanna might find this section useful, at least. Also on the shelves nearby is the Necronomicon Ex Mortis, and a hardcover copy of The Werewolf of Fever Swamp with hair poking out of the pages. That's not what they mean by a hair-raising tale~

Mia brushes some dust off the shelf, which agitates Ginny's asthma and shakes her out of the backward-talking. She gets kind of pissed at Mia for this and storms off, and Mia has difficulty following her on her crutches. Ginny finds a mysterious voice and glowing pair of eyes in a darkened room, beckoning her to come into the room, where all the endings she could dream of are waiting. This is a really ominous thing to say, but Ginny's a little kid and is really set on finding that one book she's after. Mia turns up just in time to see Ginny cross the doorway and into the darkness.

Mia follows her sister as quickly as she can manage, and the pair of them turn around to see they're no longer in Kansas anymore, Toto. In fact, as a furry pink monster and elaborately painted sign both inform them, they're in HorrorLand! Oh boy, here we go. After reviewing two dozen or so odd books set in or around HorrorLand, I'm a little ambivalent towards it at this point. Like, I like the idea of a haunted amusement park as a setting. But like every Goosebumps thing, their good ideas are then surrouned by 20 dumb ones that drag it down. As we're about to see~

The girls scream in terror, since a furry pink monster with a gorilla-like posture is clearly in front of them. The monster, whose name is Irk, is first baffled and then delighted she elicted a scream from their throats. However, the shock of meeting a monster soon wears thin, especially when she's bright pink and the size of a lemur. She also gets pissed when Ginny comments that she smells funny--not because of the comment, but that she said she's funny, not scary. But if you want something really scary, the comic ends with Slappy appearing to welcome them.

I won’t say too much here, probably better to leave my thoughts on the full story when we see it all together. But this a pretty good start to the story, with your pretty typical Goosebumps setup: kids visiting a relative, one is an annoying younger sibling, something weird or mysterious or annoying shows up, the thing ends on a cliffhanger... Next week, we’ll likely see how our protagonists deal with true horror: Slappy’s sense of humour~

#comics #reviews #Goosebumps #Goosebumps: Monsters at Midnight #Taiblog #Slappy

[m1lkt00th]

Alright alright, it's like... minutes to 9 i am writing this but aha look! i'm up early to waste MORE time!!

⸺ 🌈 ⸺

Left to Right: Whiskers (they/them) , Biscuit (any pronouns) , Locket (they/them)

⸺ 🌈 ⸺

Ramble below:

Whiskers is an undead skeleton that was revived by an old couple (old as in were together a long time not age actually). They were buried a long, long time ago and their memory suffered from it. They were meant to be an example of what happens when someone is revived to the point where they remember nothing of their past. No wistful amnesia, no NOTHING.

They didn't have any siblings for a long time and were content with their parents. Hmm the old couple lives in the woods (maybe) They weren't taught how to do magic and the couple keeps them in the dark about their origins. They dont know that theyre different not because they were "born" that way but because well, they are practically a zombie

They are part cat part... human? and something else (wings). Their magic doesn't support flight (anymore) and they mainly use their wings to hide or knock things over on accident. They are extremely cuddly and suffers from a core feeling of loneliness and worthlessness. They are not aware of that yet they always make an effort to be of service or to be "useful"

Biscuit is actually meant to be in the Undertale universe! Don't know her role though! Oops! Probably adventures with Butters since I made their designs to bounce off each other? Butter and Cookies? Food stuffs? yeah

He was probably dumped onto Cherish during their universe becoming the housing place for the insane and misguided. He is also a literal child, a little baby if you will. Oh and theyre like... a fusion of some animal (legs) but WHO knows what. She is kind of just. growing up through the chaos and is passed around by the adults (you take care of her , no WAY this kid is creepy as HELL , please please i need to uh um be somewhere???) and she has... vibes. again, dont know what. their universe was probably really simple and sweet, monsters mostly focusing on baking foods with humans that like, killing them.

Locket was sketched alongside two other characters! Cherry and Berry. Literally born to be a background character lmao uh. They mostly stay at home with their three dogs and is SEETHING about the Berry Twins dying their white dog's fur. Yeah they got it washed out but STILL. They are the victim of their many pranks and unintentionally became an older sibling figure to them.

They aren't very nice and acts very "up there". Might just canonically make them a tumblr user </3 The heart locket is actually from their mom who is rarely home but loves her child very much i assure you. they love their mom too.

they have an inflated ego but clams up around authority figures. they would threaten some kid with a knife but the MOMENT an adult shows up it's all sweetness and compliancy. no you may not have the knife.

their magic manifests in the gradients and "blush" on their bones. that's normal in this universe for skeletons. they dont have any interests in fighting and would rather be at home reading fanfic.

#imagine posting #olive rambles #ocs #undertale oc #oc: whiskers #oc: biscuit #oc: locket #going to shout about these guys... three or four at a time... #because i LOVE my ocs #queue

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

Lol loved your tags under the prompt list post

Um... how about #8 with taakitz and Lup?

sometimes i do like to think I'm funny!

#8 "How do you get accidentally married?" from this prompt list (still accepting!)

Sunlight streams through the blinds and manages to worm its way into Taako’s eyes. He grumbles and throws an arm over his face. Drop money on expensive blackout curtains and this is what he gets?

Wait a minute.

Taako runs his hand down his face and does his best to blink fatigue out of his eyes. Quickly, he realizes that this is not his bedroom. Though as he hears the familiar chirping of the smoke detector that desperately needs its batteries replaced, he deduces that this is his apartment. Which means –

“Jesus Christ, I am never drinking again,” a groggy voice says.

Bingo. Taako turns his head and finds himself face to face with his severely hungover and yet still unfairly handsome roommate. Taako grins grimly, a sentiment Kravitz mirrors weakly.

With some effort, Taako begins recollecting some of the events that led him to where he is. He and Kravitz went out to celebrate last night. They went out to celebrate –

“Holy shit, I passed my doctoral defense,” Taako mutters out. Spent five years getting that PhD and then immediately killed approximately half his brain cells. Great use of that brain, doc.

“Right, congrats again. I know I probably told you that yesterday but uh… well. You know”

There Kravitz goes, tiptoeing around that massive elephant in the room. Now, Taako isn’t opposed to this situation. No, in fact, he’s very much into this situation. But this isn’t exactly how he was imaging this scenario to ever pan out. Frankly, it’s probably best to be adults and have a Conversation™ about what this whole thing means for them. But Taako’s not really equipped for that at the moment. Avoidance is more is schtick.

“Uh, you hungry? Because I’m famished and I also –“

Taako’s phone vibrates violently on the bedside table. He reaches for it and immediately sits up. Seven missed calls from Lup and what seems like a million texts. Something tells him that these aren’t just congratulatory. A small ball of anxiety settles into his stomach.

The line rings for barely a second before he hears Lup’s voice on the other end.

“Uh hey, you fucking got married?”

Taako sputters out a terrible, sharp laugh. “I’m sorry?”

“I woke up about an hour ago, checked my phone, and saw a bunch of pics of you and your roomie captioned ‘Dr. and Mr. Taaco.’ Congrats on the defense, by the way.”

“Oh my god, that was probably just me showing my ass. You know me, I don’t exactly make the best choices when I drink.” And it's true. What probably happened was Taako talked Kravitz into conning some people into free drinks with a fake proposal. Oldest trick in the book.

Kravitz looks over at him, his expression a little murky. He scrolls on his phone for a minute before his eyes widen in astonishment. “Uh… Taako?”

“One sec, Krav.”

“Taako, listen, I know you’re kind of an idiot when you drink but I did also wake up to a video from you this morning. It was actually a little more illuminating than all the pictures. Care to guess what it was?”

“No, because I’m sure you’re just going to tell me what it is,” Taako says flatly.

“It was, in fact, you and Kravitz literally getting married!”

Taako pulls the phone away from his ear for a minute. He’s not at all equipped to be dealing with whatever the hell is going on. He’s about to say something snarky back to Lup when Kravitz taps him on the shoulder.

“Um. So I couldn't help but overhear and well…” Kravitz mumbles as he holds his phone out to Taako. He squints and takes a moment to determine what it is that he’s looking at.

Sure as shit, it’s a picture of him and Kravitz in some dubious-looking, neon-covered chapel. They’re both holding a corner of a piece of paper. Taako can’t quite decipher what it is but he doesn’t really need too many clues to determine that he has fucked up in a pretty big way.

His mouth goes a little dry when he has the vaguest recollection of plucking one of his rings off his finger, getting on one knee in a filthy bar, and taking Kravitz’s hand in his own.

Taako pinches the bridge of his nose. He just got comfortable around Kravitz after getting this new lease a few months ago and this is what happens? Handsome roommate or not, he’s gotta start thinking with his brain when he drinks.

“Lulu, would you believe that it was an accident?”

Kravitz snorts and wipes a hand down his face, stopping to look at Taako’s ring that found its way onto his finger. Taako almost swears he sees Kravitz smile.

“Taako. My very favorite person. Sharer of my genetic material. How do you become accidentally married?” Lup sounds like she has aged roughly one million years since the phone call began.

“Well, I guess what happens is you pass your defense, you do some shots, you get lonely and weepy, you ask your roommate to get married, and then you do?”

“Okay. Okay. Taako, I love you. You’re also a massive mess. You sound hungover so deal with that and I’ll start doing some research for you on how to deal with this whole thing, okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Talk to you later, love you!”

“Love you.”

“Say hi to your husband for me.”

“You are actively the worst!”

Taako doesn’t look at Kravitz for a while. Looks around his room instead. It’s tidy without being sterile. Comfortable. Homey.

The minute that thought crosses Taako’s mind, he shoves it away. Not really something to unpack right now.

“Gotta say, I never really imagined getting married before a first date,” Kravitz says, a smile pulling at his lips.

Taako snorts. “Guess cha’boy’s anything but traditional.”

“I feel bad, I didn’t even get you a ring.”

“You should, I have amazing taste,” he reaches over and grabs Kravitz’s hand, inspecting the particular ring he used. It’s one of his favorites, actually. A delicate gold band with a gem encrusted crescent moon. He always says they’re diamonds when they’re likely just crystals. Still beautiful, though. “You can keep it in the divorce.” And he means it. He holds Kravitz's hand for admittedly a moment or two longer than necessary.

Kravitz looks at Taako and his expression is odd, if not a little surprising. He almost looks wistful. Probably just the hangover, Taako figures.

Kravitz opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the smoke detector’s death rattle.

“Tell you what, Krav, I’ll kill any spiders we happen upon until this thing is dissolved if you change those goddamn batteries.”

“You got a deal.”

Taako knows he should get up when Kravitz gets up. Shouldn’t just stay in his bed. But he also shouldn’t feel this bummed about getting a real divorce after getting accidentally real married to his roommate, so it feels like a fair trade.

#this got a little wistful oops!! #alcohol ment #alcohol tw #taakitz #taakitz au #taako taaco #kravitz #the adventure zone #taz #taz balance #tazb #reese writes #thank you so much for the request!! #i still have two requests vibing in my inbox and ill get to those soon i promise! #[but reese what did taako get his phd in??] sociology and im not taking anymore questions fkrbrhrid #this au is super vague and honestly i think thats fun

[glitteryglitter]

I like me better

𝙰𝙽:  I'm sorry if some wording is a little weird. I woke up at 2:30 am, had a cup of coffee and then accidentally had some Tylenol that had a sedative in it so I was bit loopy while writing this (oops)

I listened to this song way too many times while writing this so I thought  I might include it (I also used it as a title just because)

Lastly, I made a few things a bit different for the story, also Mags and Finnick are not in the imagine (sorry) They're amazing, but it just made everything flow better.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Mentions of violence

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Johanna x District 4! reader

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,268

                                                ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

"Are you okay?" Johanna's uncharacteristically soft voice cut through the silence.

"Yeah, I'm just really nervous about tomorrow."

Y/n and Johanna were draped across a chaise lounge in Y/n's district apartment.

It was, after all, the night before the Quarter Quell and they were both quite stressed.

They had good reason, but their odds were considerably better than others.

They were a rather well-known couple, and the capitol absolutely adored them.

Johanna completely despised the fact that they had become entertainment to the capitol residents, but Y/n had accepted that it would give them some help.

As the two stewed over their problem, Y/n decided to break the silence.

"Whatever happens-I just want to say I care about you I'll never caring about you, even if one of us-"

y/n sniffed as a tear rolled down their cheek.

"You know-"

Johanna wrapped her arms around Y/n stiffly, still not used to the sheer amount of hugs they required.

"Hey-hey, it's going to be okay. "

Y/n looked into her sparkling brown eyes

"You think so?"

Johanna pursed her lips.

"Look, I'm not good with these speeches where people confess their love and everything, and I can't promise anything, but I think that our odds are good and we at least have a chance. We do have allies."

Y/n smiled and dragged a rather sleepy Johanna to their bed

The two flopped down exhaustedly as Johanna pulled y/n close.

"I'm so lucky to have someone like you. You're honest, and brave, and really sweet, even if you don't always show it"

"I love you Y/n.

Y/n gasped quietly as a huge smile spread across their face.

Those three words meant so much and had come so unexpectedly, yet somehow, they felt perfect at that moment.

"I love you too, I always have, always will. No matter what"

With that Y/n pulled their girlfriend in for a kiss.

They hadn't realized just how exhausted they were until now.

Y/n tried to stifle a yawn.

"Goodnight."

Johanna shifted closer to her girlfriend.

"Night" she mumbled.

With that, the two closed their eyes and, with some difficulty, drifted off to sleep, each calmed by the other's presence.

                                                 ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

Y/n was on their pedestal, it was the day, the moment, basically everything they'd been dreading for days.

They took a look around at the other tributes, all of which seemed to be masking their feelings of impending chaos in different ways.

There were some who appeared to be unbothered, some looked irritated, some looked positively petrified, and then there was Johanna.

She was one of the people that looked irritated, except Y/n noticed something different about her.

Unlike Gloss who had a hard, surly look on his face, Johanna's expression was different.

Yes, her signature scowl was there, but Y/n noticed something was beneath it.

They knew their girlfriend too well, they knew Johanna felt more than anger at this time.

Could it be fear? Worry? sadness? Y/n couldn't tell, but they knew it was something significant.

The countdown started and y/n sighed.

This was the second time they'd been through this and it wasn't any better than the previous.

Being a district 4 career, they did have certain talents. One of which was, of course, swimming.

They weren't so sure about Johanna though. Y/n shook their head, they needed to get out of their head and stop panicking so much.

It was silly, it made sense that they were panicked but it wouldn't help anything, would it?

they had allies. They were a career. Why were they so worried?

Y/n knew why.

They only hoped that they would find a way out of this together.

It was next to impossible, but one thing they'd learned from her last Hunger Games was the fact that you needed a little bit of hope.

                                                ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

Wiress, Beetee, Katniss, and Peeta had assembled in a small clearing.

Y/n took a deep breath of the humid air, no one in the alliance had died yet.

That was a good sign.

Y/n looked at their girlfriend adoringly as Johanna flashed them a small smile.

She and Y/n had both successfully made it through the start of the Quarter Quell and at this point, things felt like they were looking up, just a bit.

Johanna allowed the small twinge of hope she had to grow slightly.

"You two are so sweet together! I never really thought of you as the romantic type." Peeta exclaimed.

Johanna was thrown out of her small reverie as she realized Peeta had been talking about her.

He dashed a few feet away as Johanna reached for her axe

She glared at him.

However, Y/n saw a hint of a smile creeping across her face.

It truly was adorable.

"Shut up. I'm not." Johanna snapped.

"Suuuuure that's precisely what all the other couples say. Then, you find them making flower crowns for each other and nearly getting themselves killed in the name of true love" Beetee chimed in, his eyes nervously flicking to Johanna's axe which at this point was being tossed from hand to hand.

"Leave her alone," Y/n said, trying to hide their own smile.

Things almost felt normal.

Well, as normal as talking to people from other districts and being away from home could feel.

Katniss did have a slightly uneasy look on her face though.

She'd been staring at Y/n rather curiously for quite some time.

She seemed... almost wistful?

"Katniss I don't know what's bothering you, but please say it. You've been looking at me and it's really strange, probably for both of us. You trust me right?"

Katniss shook her head.

"It's not that, I do trust you-mostly at least-but still, this isn't about me. I just want to know...What is it like for you and Johanna? You're the only other couple in this mess and I just want to know how you feel."

"Of course. It's terrible being stuck here with her, there's not a moment where I'm not worried about if she'll be okay. I know she's perfectly capable and everything, but still- I can't stop thinking about what would happen if she got hurt or-you know.." Y/n trailed off quietly.

Katniss nodded. "I know the feeling. Thank you. For everything. For joining our alliance, for getting Johanna to join..."

Katniss gestured to Johanna who at the moment appeared to be sizing up Beetee and Peeta, her hand uncomfortably close to her axe.

"I'll be right back,'' Y/n whispered.

Today wouldn't be the day either of them would be decapitated if they could help it

Y/n dashed to her side. "Jo! Let's strategize! That way, we can make sure we all stay safe." Also, maybe it would be best if you didn't scare off Beetee. He might be of service."

Johanna slipped an arm around Y/n's shoulders.

"Okay, I won't," she sighed softly.

"Watch your back, Beetee! Accuse me of making a flower crown again and the arena will be the least of your worries! This is for you too, Peeta! I will break you like a stale breadstick!" She yelled.

Y/n tried to mask their giggles but failed miserably.

Their bright laughter rang through the forest.

"What are you laughing at?"

Johanna tried to keep her steely expression in place but in the end, it too dissolved and the two were both positively wheezing.

It was a terrible situation to be in, but this moment made it slightly more bearable.

The group's situation wasn't ideal, but neither was anyone else's in the arena.

Things could have been much worse, she decided.

Johanna only hoped it would stay that way.

                                                 ๑*˚🍓 ˚*๑

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #The Hunger Games #THG #the hunger games imagine #Johanna Mason Imagine

[tracybirds]

Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops.

Dealer’s choice

Oops, Christmas got in the way but we're on the other side now so I picked this back up again :D also <3 this remains one of the funnest styles of prompts to have gotten to do so hope you also enjoy!!

---

Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops

It was the same in every city. It might take time, peering through dusty windows and combing the old, sidestepped alleys, but she always found what she was searching for.

A tiny bookshop, its wares crammed into bins and trays and spilling out into the street. Second-hand, of course, with history within the pages made of real paper, not the strange substitute they used these days for antique replicas. The door, propped open by yet more books gave way to stacks that towered over her head, seemingly chaotic in their arrangement until you grew to knew the person who ran the place.

Stepping inside, seeped in the smell of old glue and the soft, sweet hint of vanilla underneath the pages, Sally knew when she had found her way home.

One foot in the door and she was pulling titles off of shelves with her grandchildren, bending down to sound out the words carefully together.

A glance back at the outside world and she was waving goodbye as her husband took their children to the cinema, content that the shopkeeper wouldn’t mind her quiet presence.

She could almost feel the tug at the crook of her elbow and a laugh bubbled out of her chest as she and Grant pulled each other around the little shop, intent on sharing their favourite memories held inside each story.

Looking up in awe, taking no notice of the claustrophobic creep of the books practically falling out of the shelves and into her arms, just like when she was a little girl herself, clasping her mother’s hand with wide eyes and a promise that one of these would be hers, for her very own.

Somehow, once again, Sally had fallen back into a world of wonders, surrounded by old friends who sang out from between the pages, and she could only smile that same eager smile that had never changed across the years as she ran a fingertip across the spines, the earnest smile unchanged across the years.

“Do you need anything?”

She glanced over at the young teenager manning the shop, already staring out the window again.

“What do you recommend?”

He started, blinking at her with the astonishment that said no-one had ever bothered to respond to the rote greeting.

“Er, well, I don’t know if you’d like it?”

“Nonsense, young man, I won’t know unless I try it.”

He beamed at her.

“Well, okay then. There’s these guys, see, and they have these cool, like, mecha-machines and they all have to team up to fight a bunch of aliens from another world. But they all get destroyed and they have to take up flying all these old planes and stuff.”

He looked down, picking at his nails, the sudden ray of excitement fading as he recalled himself.

“I dunno though, my sister hates it. Too much action, no real surprises. It’s not a great book, I guess.”

She smiled, trying not to laugh at the idea of an action-packed adventure story like he’d described ever putting her off.

“What’s your name?”

“Kyle.”

“Well, Kyle, do the good guys win?”

“Oh, yeah!”

“Is it a fair fight?”

“Duh.”

She nodded.

“Show me the way then.”

A shy smile broke out over his face as he slipped off his stool and led her to the back of the cramped room, dodging carefully between the stacks.

A thin paperbound book was placed in her hands and he swore as the cover ripped under her touch.

“Oh, uh, I mean shoot ma’am, I mean, I can order a new copy?”

He clutched at his beanie.

“Please don’t tell my grandpa I swore at you.”

“Saying a swear word and swearing at someone are two distinct issues.” She grinned. “But no, I won’t tell him.”

She turned the fragile book over, noting the way the pages had loosened from the glue. Well-loved and well-worn, like all good books.

“Is this the copy you grew up reading?” she asked, thumbing the stained pages open.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I have the holo though, and it comes with pictures.”

“I can’t take this one then.”

“No, no – please do!”

“This is your book.”

“It’s not. I just read it a lot.”

She stood still, caught between his insistence and her uncertainty. She of all people, understood that the power of a book was sometimes more than just the power of the story it contained. The way the pages fell open to a favourite scene, the smell of stale coffee from reading in the early morning, how the edges softened over time.

“I’ll buy it,” she said softly.

He smiled broadly and then his eyes faltered, nervous energy clear in his eyes.

“Would you… would you come back and talk with me about it?”

She stuck out her hand and he took it, shaking with the know-how of a kid who knew how to strike a deal on his grandfather’s behalf.

“Name the date.”

***Three Months Later***

Kyle’s jaw dropped as Sally Tracy waltzed back in with his book in one hand and a startled man, still in his distinctive blues.

“This is my grandson Virgil,” she informed him. “I read your book, and then Virgil borrowed it, so I thought he might enjoy joining us.”

“Grandma,” he hissed, looking mortified. “I thought I was just dropping in to pick you up; I haven’t showered.”

“Nonsense, you’re fine.”

“Are you really with International Rescue?” Kyle asked, eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Cool!” He turned to Sally, still beaming. “No wonder you thought you’d like it!”

A million questions, one great discussion and several cookies later (Kyle’s treat), and the two left, laughing and waving and making promises to read another old favourite before meeting again.

Kyle grinned as he watched through the window, thinking maybe he wouldn’t mind the time spent in the old shop after school now, knowing that his new friends would be coming back to see him.

He glanced down, finding the book still laying neatly on the counter and leapt up to call after them.

A roar filled the air, dwarfing his yells and he was forced to retreat as Thunderbird Two flew overhead.

The cover had fallen clean off and he reached down to retrieve it. At the very least he could return it next time, newly repaired.

As he flipped the flimsy material in his hands, he noticed an inscription.

‘Dear Kyle, I knew this book was yours from the moment you led me to it. I thank you for the wonderful time we had reading it, but it’s time it was returned to its rightful owner. Please consider this a gift, an old friend given back to a new friend. Sally Tracy’

#grandma tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic

[mnemosyne-musing]

Spoilers (River/12) prompt #7

Final one for prompt week! This has been so much fun (although my thesis has been sorely neglected this week. Oops 😬). Thanks to @riversofmars for coordinating!

ao3 link here

“Things end. That's all. Everything ends, and it's always sad. But everything begins again too, and that's always happy. Be happy. I'll look after everything else”

The Doctor turns on his heel and retreats to the safety of the TARDIS as quickly as he can. His collar suddenly feels too tight, much too tight and he loosens the top buttons with a shaking hand just so he can breathe. He closes his eyes and swallows painfully.

Be happy. A lot easier said than done apparently.

He reaches a shaking hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. Holding it in front of him, he traces the writing on the front with a gentle hand.

He knows that sloping handwriting better than his own. He’s seen it pop up on his psychic paper countless times over the years, seen it on scrawled notes left around the TARDIS and their house on Darillium, crosswords that they’d spend a lazy Sunday afternoon completing or notes jotted in the side of books or poems.

Mum and Dad

She had finally got to a place in her relationship with her parents where they were all comfortable with who they were and what had happened. She’d opened up a bit during their twenty-four years together. Told him things that he’d assumed but never heard her say. That her relationship with Amy and Rory would never be quite like a normal parent-child relationship. It never could be really. A part of them was always going to mourn the baby daughter they had for such precious few moments. But it was as close as they were going to get and both they and River had accepted that.

And now they would never see her again.

She’d written this letter during the final few months on Darillium. The final few things she wanted to tell them.

“I’m always there for Christmas,” she’d told him, a small smile on her face, clearly thinking about all the holidays she’d already spent there, “If there’s an empty space at the table then you’ll know.”

He’d agreed to make sure it got to them. To fix the time disruptions around New York so that he could get the TARDIS there safely. So they wouldn’t be left for years with an empty place at the table. Just waiting and hoping.

He reaches out a hand for the controls but he doesn’t even manage to touch them before he feels his throat closing up again. Snatching his hand back, he clenches his fists tightly and strides away from the console, shutting his eyes against the tide of grief that threatens to overwhelm him again.

Not today. He just can’t.

He will do it. He owes her that much. But not today.

He disappears off with Nardole for a while. He saves some people here and there, gets involved with a free jazz band for a while, invents a new blend of tea. It’s a while before he feels strong enough to try and deliver the letter again.

He waits until Nardole has pottered off for the evening and then sets the coordinates, putting the TARDIS into silent and invisible mode, and pulls the lever. As the TARDIS lands, he takes a deep breath and pulls the monitor towards him with a shaking hand. The screen flickers to life and he stares at the scene in front of him. He’s parked in the back yard of a house. There’s snow on the ground around him and he can see the remnants of a snowman that’s half melted back into the ground.

He looks up towards the house and his breath catches. Through the kitchen window he can see a familiar festive scene. There’s Amy, no mistaking her despite the paper Christmas hat sat on her head, stood with her back to the window. In the background, he can see a table all set up for Christmas dinner. Amy’s obviously talking to someone as she suddenly throws her head back and laughs. He smiles, despite himself and reaches up to gently touch the screen.

“Oh, Amelia,” he whispers softly, thinking back to all the Christmases he’d spent with the Ponds in his previous incarnation. Amy and Rory’s good-natured bickering over the cooking, Amy insisting they all play charades after dinner, Rory trying not to glower at the pair of them as River’s hand slowly inched somewhere inappropriate.

A door in front of Amy opens and he suddenly catches sight of Rory. He starts as he realises Rory is holding a baby. Holding a baby and still looking quite young by the looks of things which means…

“Bugger,” he swears under his breath, realising he’s got the timing wrong. If Anthony is still a baby then this is still many years before River’s last visit. She’d told him that one of the very last times she’d been to see them that Anthony had just graduated from high school. It was one of her regrets that she wouldn’t get to see him go to college. He can’t deliver the letter now. He won’t condemn her parents to years of what he’s had to live with. The knowledge that her death is just waiting out there in the universe.

He gives one last look at the monitor before shaking his head and pulling the console lever, the TARDIS dematerialising as he stares at the now blank screen. He doesn’t let himself think too deeply about just who might have been laughing and talking with Amy in the kitchen just then. He shakes his head again. It doesn’t do to dwell on ghosts.

He tries again a week or so later. His timing is not much better. Anthony is a chubby toddler now. Running round and causing all sorts of havoc. He watches as Rory tries in vain to marshal him away from the Christmas tree with all the presents stashed under it. There was always a present for him when he’d visited before. Sometimes it was just a new pair of fancy socks or a packet of jammy dodgers. Other times it might be a new gadget or toy. He can recall at least one year River starting to get grumpy that he was paying more attention to his new yoyo than he was to her.

He lingers just a moment or two before tearing his gaze away and disappearing into the vortex.

His next attempt lands him a couple of years later. This time he’s landed in what looks like the local park. He can see Amy and Rory all bundled up and keeping a close eye on an energetic looking little boy of around four or five. He watches them as Rory chases Anthony, giggling like mad and wearing a woollen bobble hat that wobbles with every step he takes. He lets himself watch for a few minutes this time before feeling the familiar urge to wrench himself away bubbles up and he can’t take it any longer.

The pattern continues in a similar vein for a while. He tries to pilot the TARDIS to the correct year and each time she takes him just a little bit later on but not quite far enough. Always at Christmas time as well. He grumbles out loud and glares at the console but deep down he knows why she’s doing it. Just the thought of seeing the Ponds the first time had almost been enough to undo him. But by seeing bits of their life gradually, watching them as a family and how they’ve made the most of being in New York, maybe now he could face them?

Or maybe not? A part of him is still very tempted to just post the letter through their door and then run. He’s always been so good at running.

A couple of times during these visits, he’s caught sight of someone else in their house. There’s been a brief flash of golden curls at the edge of the room or a fleeting glimpse of a very familiar form disappearing through a door. He’s never seen her properly. He doesn’t think his fragile hearts would be able to cope. He can now just about stomach seeing the Ponds, but River? No, not yet. Maybe not ever?

He knows he’s getting close to the end of River’s visits. Anthony is a tall, gangly teenager now and on his last visit he overhears talk of him going to college the following year. He swallows heavily and quickly pilots the TARDIS away.

This time he stays away for a while. He’s busies himself with a university lecturing job and actually enjoys staying in one place. He’d never thought he’d be able to stomach the mundanity of a job but twenty-four years in one place has taught him the value of staying still. Well, for most of the time. His new companion, Bill, is wonderful and exactly what he needs. He puts a photo of River on his desk and even starts to talk about her. Just the occasional comment or remark. The first time he manages to say her name without choking, Nardole gives him a little nod of encouragement. He pretends not to notice and simply scowls to himself.

The TARDIS lands and he peers tentatively at the monitor. This time, he’s landed actually inside their house. He opens the door and finds himself inside a living room. He takes a few tentative steps inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. It’s a large room with several comfy looking armchairs and a sofa along one wall facing the fireplace. On the walls, alongside some art work, are framed copies of book covers. He moves closer and sees that they are books that Amy has published.

He looks at them for a few moments and then turns towards the mantel where there are a few framed photos placed amongst the few trinkets. There are a few of the three of them, a picture of Anthony in his high school graduation outfit and one of him as a cheeky toddler, his face covered in ice-cream as he beams at the camera. What draws his gaze though, is the photo in the middle of the mantelpiece. At first glance, it seems a little blurred and out of focus, as if the photographer had caught everyone slightly unawares. It’s obviously from a few years ago now in one of the local parks. Anthony is in the foreground feeding some ducks but it is the two people sat on the bench behind them that he stares at. River and Amy are sat side by side, unaware of the camera, an almost identical expression of delight on their faces as they laugh at a shared joke.

He reaches out a finger and traces it down the photo, a wistful smile curling his lips despite the lump in his throat.

“My Ponds,” he murmurs.

He lingers a moment or two before he shakes himself and turns towards the door. He walks out into the corridor, keeping an ear out all the time for anyone else in the house. It’s dark outside but it’s still early evening so he could easily encounter someone at any moment. There isn’t a sound to be heard though as he makes his way slowly down the corridor and into the kitchen.

He stops inside the doorway and stares at the dining table. He’s obviously arrived on Christmas Day again as the table bears the remnants of the festive meal with abandoned paper hats still scattered amongst the empty plates and dishes. What makes the breath catch in his throat though is not the festivities but the empty place, still set and unused, at the head of the table.

He swallows heavily as he stares at the still pristine crockery, River’s words reverberating in his head.

“If there’s an empty place, you’ll know it’s time.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the letter. The envelope is now worn and creased, the ink slightly faded from all the times he’s run his fingers over the words there.

He approaches the table and carefully sets the letter down, propped up against an empty wine glass so it will be seen by whoever next enters the room. A wave of nausea suddenly wells up out of nowhere and he abruptly feels the need to be very far away. He turns swiftly on his heel, meaning to head out the door as soon as possible but as soon as he does so he freezes.

Stood, leaning against the doorway, her arms folded and head tilted to one side with a slightly amused expression on her face, is his wife.

He opens his mouth but all the possible words suddenly fail him at that moment and he simply gapes at her. Her hair is down around her shoulders and she’s wearing a dark red dress with just a hint of a teasing neckline. She looks exactly as she had all those years ago when he’d last seen her on Darillium. She looks perfect.

“Well, I can’t say that’s the Christmas greeting I was hoping for from my husband this year,” River says after a few moments where he continues to stare open-mouthed at her.

“Christmas greeting? But you, you’re-? I mean-“

River raises one eyebrow as he finally manages to engage his brain enough to produce some words.

“Was any of that supposed to make sense, sweetie?”

He frowns at her as her lips quirk up in amusement and forces himself to say something comprehensible. “You know who I am?” he demands, “This face,” he points to himself, unable to stop the kernel of hope that rises inside him, “You know me?”

“The big blue box in my parents’ living room was a bit of a giveaway,” she says, nodding towards the other room and instantly that little bit of hope inside him dies. He’s too early again. He might even have to wipe this memory from her to preserve the timelines. “And the fact that you’re clearly trying to run off before anyone sees you.”

He watches her as she pushes off the doorframe and slowly walks towards him. There’s a lump in his throat as he silently curses the TARDIS in every possible language for bringing him here now.

“You fixed the time disturbances then,” she remarks as he nods silently, still watching her every movement.

She stops just out of arm’s reach and just looks at him, her gaze raking up and down before she nods towards the table.

“You’ve missed Christmas dinner.”

“Not really that hungry,” he says hoarsely, still staring at her, hoping she doesn’t glance down and see her own letter. She’ll recognise her own handwriting and will immediately guess why he might be delivering her parents such a letter.

“Pity,” River replies, a small smirk again playing around her lips, “Maybe I can entice you with dessert.”

He lets out a small huff of laughter despite himself and shakes his head at her. “You’re incorrigible.”

She smiles properly this time. “Thank you, sweetie.”

She glances towards the table and he sees her frown as he gaze falls on the envelope. He starts to panic. He clears his throat and says almost the first thing that comes into his head.

“Hang on, you said I missed Christmas dinner?”

She turns back to him with a small frown and nods. “Yes. We ate earlier. Mum, dad and Anthony have all gone for a walk.”

He shakes his head and turns to the table, gesturing to the other side. “No, but that’s not right. There’s your empty place there.”

She glances back at the table and then back to him, looking at him closely. “Oh, Doctor,” she sighs fondly, “Count the places. It’s not for me. It’s for you.”

“For me?”

She nods and then steps in towards him, reaching out a tentative hand to stroke a finger down his jacket lapel.

“They always lay a place for you. Remember?”

He shakes his head again and looks between River and the empty table place. His throat suddenly feels all dry, like he can’t swallow properly and there’s that small, tiny beacon of hope that’s lit up inside him again, that he doesn’t dare speak out loud but that won’t now go away.

“Just ask me, Doctor,” River says softly, cutting through his thoughts.

He stares at her as she looks up at him, a soft smile playing around her lips. His mouth still feels far too dry but he licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

“When are we, River?” he manages to choke out.

She stays where she is, one hand still idly playing with the buttons of his jacket. “Well, we’ve clearly done Manhattan because-,” she gestures vaguely at his face as he rolls his eyes at her prevaricating, “Then there was a bit of time apart, which I think was rather longer for you than me but-“

“River,” he growls, glaring at her as she raises her eyebrows innocently.

She moves in even closer to him, her lips now only inches from his. “Oh yes, well we did then have that rather wonderful twenty-four years together. How could I forget?”

His breath hitches. She’s done Darillium. Which must mean she’s either just before the Library or…

She pauses briefly, looking up at him and it’s so still he thinks he can hear his own hearts beating. “And then I had to spend rather too much time for my liking in a computer hard-drive before-“

She doesn’t get the chance to finish that sentence as he cuts her off. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her hard. Her mouth opens eagerly under his and she tastes exactly as he remembers. She’s here, she’s real, she’s in his arms and somehow she has escaped the Library. In his haze of happiness, he finally manages to tear his lips away from hers.

“How?” he rasps, his thumbs stroking over her cheeks reverently as she smiles up at him.

River simply shakes her head and presses herself closer to him. She leans in and before she kisses him again, she whispers what must be his new favourite iteration of this word.

“Spoilers!”

#river x twelve #riverdoctorpromptweek #phew all done! #this was so fun though

[aellynera]

The Best Years of Your Life (Reeves x Reader)

THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE

(hey hey, this is my other submission for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! and yes, you read that right - it’s REEVES. i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it! CONGRATS Amanda!!)

Word Count: um like 6200ish oops it was supposed to be a blurb

Summary: They say the best years of your life happen in high school, but what do they know?

Warnings: Some language. Female reader implied but no pronouns/description. Teenage angst. Adult wistfulness. Mostly fluffy tho. No promises about proofreading. Frog murder. 

with the prompt - “Like what you see?”

It all started back in high school. Sometimes you wonder how often people say that, and if it’s really true or they’re just falsely remembering how things happened because high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life.

But in this case, it’s true. Because high school is when you met Reeves.

Sophomore Year. High School. A Friday. 

It was the third day of sophomore year, fourth period on a Friday morning, your last before the lunch break. Biology class was maybe the one you were least looking forward to, not exclusively because of the required frog dissection, but pretty damn close. Gross. And you never understood why the school year didn’t just start on a Monday, but you were new here in San Diego. Maybe they just did things differently.

It was bad enough being the new kid. It was worse when you walked into class halfway through the lecture, even if it wasn’t your fault. The timing of the move was weird, and you’d spent most of the first two days, and this morning, doing placement tests and talking to your counselor. 

And now you were being called out in front of the entire class.

“Ah, there you are,” your teacher announced as you walked in the door. “Everyone, this is our new student, please make them feel welcome. You can sit over there.”

Your eyes followed as she motioned to the empty seat at the lab table in the back of the room. Suddenly you weren’t sure if your face felt hot because of embarrassment or because of the boy in the other chair.

Dark, curly hair cut close on the sides but longer on the top. Deep brown eyes framed by long, long lashes. Full, plush lips curling up into his cheek on one side. A nose that, okay, maybe might be a bit oversized but for some reason worked on his handsome face and--

Well, shit. Definitely not the embarrassment.

You shuffled your way to your seat and slid into it with your head down. A few students watched you curiously but soon turned their attention back to the lesson. You tried your best to focus on what was going on, to not look to your left at the distraction next to you.

You weren’t very successful.

By now you thought you’d sneaked enough covert glances to know that we was wearing a leather jacket, had a small diamond stud earring in his left ear, a bunch of silver-studded brown suede wrap bracelets around both wrists, a silver ring on his right index finger, and oddly precise handwriting as he took notes. In between relevant facts the teacher was sharing, he was doodling tiny music notes in the margins of his notebook.

And he totally caught you looking.

“Like what you see?” he leaned over and whispered.

Your mouth felt drier than the Sahara but also somehow so moist you were afraid you might have actually drooled on yourself. You should have opened your mouth to respond but your brain refused to make the connection. Probably for the best.

At least, at first. When it finally caught up to you, the only response your brain could provide was, “Maybe?”

Now would be the perfect time for the floor to swallow you whole.

He just winked at you and his attention went back to the doodles around his notes.

You shifted your gaze back to your own notebook, but you don’t know if anything else of importance was said, and don’t remember writing anything down. The bell ringing sharply pulled you back to reality and you hastily shoved your books in your backpack, ready to escape.

Just as you were about to leave, a voice called out. “Hey, sorry about earlier. If I freaked you out or anything.”

You looked up. He was smiling at you, a little shyly. You bit your lip, your brain and mouth still refusing to connect.

He stuck his hand out. “I’m Reeves. You’re new here?”

“Um…” you smacked yourself internally. This was ridiculous, you weren’t really shy, you knew how to have a conversation, he was just introducing himself. You were going to have a serious conversation with your brain later about proper communication techniques.

It felt like hours had passed, but you finally pulled yourself together enough to respond. “Yeah. My- my dad got transferred for work, we moved here like a week ago. He literally dragged the family across the country. I’m originally from New York City.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! I always wanted to go to New York City!”

You found yourself smiling back.

“Do you...wanna sit with me at lunch?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe you could tell me a little about the city? And...about you, since we’re gonna have to commit heinous acts of violence on an amphibian together? I’d like to know who’s wielding a scalpel next to me.”

The giggle that escaped your throat could not be contained. This boy - Reeves - was adorable. “Oh. Okay, yeah. I’d really like that.”

The Present.

Poor Lenny the Frog never stood a chance. Then again, neither did you.

To be fair, Lenny was already dead when you and Reeves got your hands on him. Well, when you got your hands on him, because for the full first half of that specific class period, Reeves refused to touch him and nearly turned as green as Lenny once was. That’s when he insisted on naming your cadaver, because somehow giving it a name made it easier to deal with.

You were pretty sure Reeves was nuts.

By the middle of sophomore year, you were dead too, but not for the same reasons.

By the middle of sophomore year, you weren’t sure how you were still alive, because every time he looked over at you and gave you a sly smile during class, gave you that look, you felt your heart go taut and you forgot how to breathe and certainly, rightfully, should have been dead.

Your friend Alexis stuck her head into your bathroom. “Hey, we’re just waiting on Vanessa, and then we’re good to go. Drinks first? The show doesn’t start until 8 so we have time.”

You glanced up from your makeup and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Alexis grinned. “Aaaaaah I’m so glad you agreed to go out tonight! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be something,” you muttered, going back to your eyeliner.

Alexis had been the first one to see the concert announcement about a week ago. A benefit show at one of the clubs down in Greenwich Village, some punk revival thing (for charity) with a bunch of different singers and musicians. Not normally your scene, but Alexis scanned through the names and suddenly remembered you’d known Reeves in high school. You said yes, he was in your class, and you’d been lab partners once. Vanessa squealed in excitement and Alexis announced you were going to the show. There was never any actual agreement.

Because of course Reeves was going to be there. And of course, you had to be too.

Junior Year. The Parking Lot. A Tuesday.

“I’m just saying, it was a ridiculous foul, and it should never have been called,” Reeves groused as you walked out of the gym.

“We also should have made like twenty more of our own foul shots,” you pointed out.

The Lake Howell Silverhawks had fallen to their arch-rivals in a somewhat glorious fashion. You didn’t even like basketball that much. But that didn’t really matter. The games were just an excuse to go out for burgers before and hang out with your friends during.

It was definitely an excuse to hang out with Reeves.

Junior year, you were both disappointed to find you didn’t have any classes together, but you still almost always ate lunch together. He’d come over to your house to study during the week and sometimes just to chill out on the weekends. Over the past year, he’d shown you all around the city and taken you to his favorite places. You told him all about New York, how you missed it and one day you’d go back, and all the famous sites and which ones were tourist traps that he was only allowed to visit the very first time and then never again.

You spent so much time together, even your mother liked to tease you about why he wasn’t your boyfriend.

It took a while for you to find the words to tell her it was because he was someone else’s.

As much as you liked to pretend she didn’t change anything, Randie Rustenberg changed everything. It was gradual, like a creeping vine of ivy, and she slowly took him over. There was no malice; it was just one of those things that happened. Reeves spent less time with you, his best friend, and more time with Randie, his girlfriend.

The girlfriend you desperately wished was you, because ever since that first biology class you’d had the biggest, stupidest crush on him.

Eventually you had a boyfriend of your own. Theo was a nice guy, he really was. Polite, friendly, had a good sense of humor, liked your family. And your family loved him. Your mother was so happy that you had a boyfriend, she seemed to forget to ask how Reeves was and if you’d seen him lately.

Of course you saw him. You saw him every day, in the cafeteria, at his locker, passing by in the halls. Sometimes you could find him playing the grand piano on the stage in the empty auditorium. Yes, if your mother bothered to ask, you saw Reeves all the time. Now it was just always with her.

Except this week. It was a break of sorts, no classes, just some sports and other school activities. Randie was on some trip with her parents for some kind of church function, and Theo was fishing with his dad on some lake up north. He’d told you where, but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to recall. So when a bunch of your friends and a bunch of his friends all said everyone was going to the basketball game, there was no debate.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

Sometime during the game, your friends wandered off to the snack bar and never ventured back. His friends started a game of hacky-sack under the bleachers. And you found yourself pretending to understand all the finer points about hoops strategy, cheering and yelling along with Reeves and having a great time, just like you used to.

“Where’d you park?” he asked as you left the gym and headed out into the sea of cars. You vaguely pointed in the direction of yours and he grinned. “Oh, good, I’m that way too. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

The faint glow emitted by the lampposts in the parking lot bounced off his curls and his eyes, when you could catch a glimpse, were bright beneath them.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

The walk wasn’t very far, but it felt like it was over in a second. You hadn’t said anything on the way, just soaked in the comfort of walking next to him as he kept commenting on the game.

He was waving his hands everywhere, looking at them as he talked as if his hand motions would make things make any more sense to you, in the middle of saying something about your center and how they needed to get better about blocking out when you finally spoke.

“Oh, shit.”

Reeves looked up at you. “What, you don’t agree?”

You dropped your bag on the ground and rolled your eyes. “No, my car is locked and I left my keys inside.” You pointed to the passenger seat. Your keys stared back at you derisively.

You both stared back at them for a moment, then he grinned. “Hang on, I got you.” He held up one finger and trotted off to his car, coming back a minute later with something in his hand. “This should take care of it.”

You took a step back. “Reeves? Um. Okay, why do you have a coat hanger in your car.”

He rolled his eyes back at you. “For emergencies, duh.” He quickly twisted the hanger into a hook shape and went to your passenger side window.

“And why do you know how to break into a car with said coat hanger?”

“Like I told you,” his tongue poked out between his teeth as he worked, “for emergencies. You think I haven’t locked my own keys in my car once or six times?”

“Did Randie teach you how to do this?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. She probably had. She might have been churchy when required, but she was also responsible for about half of Reeves’s stints in detention (the other half just being him making the wrong joke at the wrong time and pissing a teacher off.)

Thank god he didn’t seem to hear you as he kept working at the lock. Finally you heard a *click* and he pumped a fist into the air with a little “yessss!”

And then you’re not really sure what happened. You bent down to pick up your bag and then you were standing up and Reeves’s face was literally about three inches away from yours and for the eight thousandth time since you’d know him, you forgot how to breathe.

Neither of you said anything for what felt like days. You just stared at each other under the dim halo of the parking lot lights.

“Here you go.” He took your hand and dropped your keys into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Like what you see?” the corners of his mouth quirked up, just the slightest little bit.

“...Maybe.”

And the staring recommenced. Were you two getting closer? Physically closer, you meant, of course you were close, you’d always been close. Well, at one time you were really close but then Randie Restenberg happened and it wasn’t fair that she got to know what those lips felt like and did he always smell this good or--

“Yo, Reeves!” A pickup truck full of guys skidded to a stop behind your car and one of his friends - Jake? Jack? you barely remembered your own name right now - stuck his head out the window. “Fight to the death ping pong tourney at Matt’s house! You in?”

Reeves bit his lip and closed his eyes for a second before he pulled back with a soft “I’m sorry” before turning to his friends. “Um, yeah, sure. Sounds brutal. I’ll meet you there.” 

The pickup sped off, tires screeching out of the parking lot. Reeves turned back to you, but you’d already gotten into your now unlocked car and started the engine.

You rolled down the window a fraction and gave him a weak smile. “Hey, um. Thanks for saving my butt. Now go kick theirs at ping pong, yeah?” Your face felt so hot, and for once you were grateful for the dim lights in the lot.

“You could, um, come along if- if you want.”

“Nah, I’m...I’m tired, I’m just gonna...um, head home. But I’ll see you tomorrow maybe?”

Reeves looked like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stepped onto the curb in front of your car, smiled, and raised his hand in a little wave as he watched you drive off.

The Present.

A series of shrieks and the slamming of the door told you Vanessa had finally arrived. It sounded like they were jumping up and down on the tile just inside your front door, which was ridiculous since you’d all just seen each other the day before. But typical.

You smoothed a pinkie under your eye, checked your makeup one final time, and went into the living room.

“Oh, you look hot,” Vanessa gushed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down on your couch. “Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

“Reeves, of course,” Alexis laughed, leaning on the kitchen counter. She sorted anything she might need from her big purse into a little evening bag as she talked. “You know we go to all his shows. And you know they went to high school together.”

You snorted. “That was a long time ago. I’m not even sure he’d remember me.”

Vanessa waggled her eyebrows. “You’re probably right, No offense, honey, but no one was that hot back in high school.”

He was, your brain supplied. Very helpful. You smiled wanly.

Vanessa continued. “But you were friends, right? You’ve never really talked about it. God, it must be so cool now to think that you were friends with Reeves back when he was an awkward high school teenager.”

“Reeves was never awkward,” you laugh. “It was kind of unfair.”

“But you totally had a crush on him,” Alexis offered.

Had? What do you mean, had? Oh my god, shut up, brain.

A pillow flew in your direction and you ducked as Vanessa giggled and Alexis rolled her eyes. “Come on, tell us something about him,” Vanessa goaded. “Wait. Was he, like, your prom date? That’s your secret! You totally went to prom with Reeves and you never told us!”

Senior Year. Prom. A Saturday.

The night was not supposed to go this way.

It was supposed to be limousines and corsages and dinner with dates and friends. It was supposed to be endless pictures while your mother told you how gorgeous you looked and how handsome he was and your father gave a thinly-veiled shovel talk about how he knew what happens on prom night and what would really happen if that actually happened. It was supposed to be punch and cookies and balloons. It was supposed to be dancing closer than the chaperones were comfortable with and kissing with tongue when they weren’t looking.

It was supposed to be the best night of your life. It was supposed to be fun.

Nowhere in your weeks of dreaming of this night did it involve sitting on a bench in the girls’ locker room, knees pulled up to your chest, while the party carried on in the gym just beyond.

It definitely didn’t involve crying.

The bass beats of the deejay and the harmony of laughter temporarily got louder as the locker room door opened, and then faded back into a muted thumping as the door closed again a second later. You could hear footsteps headed in your direction but before you could unfold yourself and wipe your tears away, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, there you are!”

Being able to find the words to describe how he looked in his tux, his curls slightly tamed by some gel, the blue rose (of course it would be an off color, why would he pick something standard?) pinned to his lapel, his lopsided grin… Finding the words was nearly impossible.

Of course he would show up now. Because your night wasn’t already crappy enough and half the reason you were sitting there weeping instead of out there dancing was standing right in front of you.

You realized that wasn’t fair. It was probably more like, twenty-five percent of the reason, and it wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t make it any better.

“Why are you in the girls’ locker room, Reeves?” you sniffled.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his nose scrunched up in concern as he took in your mascara-streaked cheeks and puffy red eyes. “One of your friends said you came in here like half an hour ago and nobody’s seen you since. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly not.” He sat down next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”

A deep, shaky sign left your chest. You didn’t really want to talk about how, earlier in the evening, you’d excused yourself to use the restroom and come back to the gym to find Theo dancing with...you didn’t remember her name, nor did you care. You didn’t mind that he was dancing with another girl, in theory, but it was another matter entirely when his hands were on her ass and she was sucking a deep purple mark into his neck. And he was laughing. 

A short, vicious argument ensued in the coat room after you’d cut in and dragged him off by the elbow. And it turned out that he’d been seeing whats-her-name for months, somehow, behind your back while pretending that everything was perfect with you. When he was supposedly visiting his grandparents? He was with her. When he had to work an extra shift? He was with her. When he got off the phone with you, saying he needed to get to bed early? He was calling her.

Prom wasn’t supposed to involve a very public break-up.

And things didn’t get any better when, deciding you needed something to drink, you went back into the gym and immediately saw Reeves and Randie, dancing cheek to cheek, arms snugly wrapped around each other as a soft, romantic song wafted through the air. Because of course he was with her. She was his girlfriend and Reeves wasn’t a detestable cheating asshole.

There was always another her.

You couldn’t handle it.

So you took off to somewhere almost guaranteed to be empty. You figured the locker room wasn’t really the kind of place kids would want to make out, and you were right. It was blessedly empty. Until now.

But you couldn’t tell him the second part, so you just went with the first. His eyes got wide as you blubbered through the sordid details of Theo being a complete and utter twat. Another quivery sob half-burst from you and Reeves got up. He grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to you as he sat back down.

“Thanks,” you hiccuped.

“I never liked him,” Reeves announced.

You found yourself choking on a huff of air. “What? Yes you did! Everybody loved him. That’s what makes it extra shitty.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

Reeves cocked his head and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “Did you love him?”

Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Why did you always seem to forget how to make words when Reeves asked you questions?

“What?”

He shrugged. “Everyone else loved him. Did you?”

You used every last ounce of willpower you had to not jump up on that bench and shout that of course you didn’t love Theo, you idiot, because I love you.

That would not make this night any easier.

The next thing you knew, Reeves put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, hugging you soundly. He rested his cheek on the top of your head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re better off without him.”

You dabbed at your eyes. Nope, still couldn’t make words.

Minutes, hours, days. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed to him and feeling him breathe beneath you. You no longer had any idea how long it had even been since everything crashed around you and he’d come to try and help you pick up the pieces. You just listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady, as the muffled music and joyful shouts of classmates went on past the closed door.

Finally he spoke again. “Hey, you wanna get one of those complimentary pictures?”

“What?” Oh, great. You were finally able to answer his question but you could still only come up with that one word? Stupid brain.

“Well, I…” he sat up straight and, after the briefest look into your eyes, he glanced away. Was he blushing? You weren’t sure. “I always kind of...I kind of thought we’d have a prom picture together. I mean, I just figured, y’know, we’d go with a bunch of friends, but I always hoped I’d get a picture with my best friend.”

The sniffles were back in an instant. Damn him. “Reeves, I...you really want to get a picture now? I look horrible, I can’t get a picture taken like this!”

He took the paper towel from your hand and gently dabbed at your cheeks. “You couldn’t look horrible if you tried. Come on, it’ll be fun. And just think how excited your mom will be when she gets a copy of it.”

Despite your best efforts, you had to laugh. “Okay.”

You headed to the photo area after you washed your face, Reeves helped you wipe off the stray streaks of mascara, and you reapplied just a bit of makeup to make yourself feel better. You were never sure what Reeves said to the photographer before the shots, but he seemed quite happy to take multiples. Reeves stayed pressed against your back with his arms down around your waist, hands clasped together in front of you, for each and every one.

At some point between the second and third shot, he leaned just a little closer into you and you suddenly felt his breath against your ear. “Like what you see?”

For maybe the first time that entire night, your face broke into a genuine smile. “Maybe.”

For a few minutes, your night was absolutely perfect.

The Present.

It was the greatest date that never was.

“No, Reeves was not my prom date,” you told your friends with a shake of your head.

You left out most of the other details, partly because you didn’t want to answer eight hundred questions from Vanessa and partly because, well, you just wanted those moments for yourself.

After the pictures, Reeves had asked if you would like to dance. Until then you didn’t realize it was possible for eyebrows to shoot that far up a person’s forehead, but yours were up for the challenge. You’d mumbled something about if Randie would mind, because you were sure she absolutely would, but he brushed it off. Randie had gone off with her friends when he came to find you, and he really wanted to dance with you, just one dance with his frog murder accomplice. And he said that with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye and there was no way you could refuse.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

One dance turned into two, and then several, until the girlfriend in question finally did show back up and Reeves was pulled away, leaving you with a soft smile and a mouthed “sorry”.

Definitely the greatest never-date.

After prom, life returned to what vaguely resembled normal. Your love life sucked and Reeves still had a girlfriend that wasn’t you, and you didn’t see him much. To be fair, the end of senior year and graduation did creep up pretty fast so there wasn’t a lot of time anyway. Graduation was there before you knew it; he cheered for you and you cheered for him as you each walked across the stage. You made brief appearances at each others’ graduation parties and talked a bit and then, once again before you knew what happened next, it was time to leave for college.

You went back to New York. Reeves stayed on the west coast.

And over the years, like so many other people before you and after you, you just fell out of touch.

“And anyway,” you asserted, “we were just kind of friends. Yeah, like I told Alexis before, we were lab partners sophomore year, and we hung out sometimes, but that was it. Really.”

Alexis snorted and Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm.”

You threw the pillow back at her. “Mmmhmm.”

“All right, you two,” Alexis chided. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Somehow, you managed to get down to Greenwich Village without further interrogation and minimal shenanigans.

The Present. One Hour Later. Another Saturday Night.

The bar inside the club was pretty packed. Granted, it was a Saturday night down in The Village, so it wasn’t too uncommon, but you were honestly surprised that this many people showed up for a punk retrospective.

There were a few other relatively big-name acts you recognized on the bill, and a fair number of people were wearing t-shirts with Reeves’s most recent album cover on the front. There were even a few that had shirts with his face on it, which was frankly kind of weird.

“Looks like you’re not his only number one fan,” Vanessa smirked.

“I just enjoy his music,” you said off-handedly as you tried to flag down a bartender. “But anyway, tonight isn’t even about him. We’re just here to support charity, right?”

Alexis pretended to agree with you. “Right.”

You glared at both of them before turning your attention back to the bar. Yes, you came to every one of his shows in the area. When you had time. When you could take the night off. When you could rearrange your schedule and switch shifts at the last minute and promise favors to be able to attend them. When you maybe once or twice just called out sick because nothing else worked. So what.

They were really starting to get on your nerves. 

The bartender finally noticed you and took your order, and you looked around the club again while you waited.

Lots of people, ranging from just-allowed-to-buy-booze to mid-sixties businessmen. A few folks that looked to currently be in their golden years but were clearly once punks in their prime. Many people in black and chains and mohawks and neon hair and piercings, to the point where you honestly couldn’t tell who was a performer and who was a patron.

The one person you were looking for was the one that you couldn’t pick out of the crowd.

“He’s gotta be here somewhere!” Vanessa’s voice shouted from somewhere behind your shoulder.

“Vanessa, you’re getting a little weird about this,” you called back as you grabbed your drink and turned around.

“Like what you see?”

Eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open, you almost dropped your full glass.

Vaguely, nearby, you heard the sound of glass shattering and shot a glance to your left. Alexis really had dropped her drink, and Vanessa was clutching onto her arm for dear life. She was holding her glass at a slightly odd angle and the contents were dripping onto one of her shoes.

The crowd silently pulsed backwards as one, clearing out around the four of you for a respectable distance. Several people watched curiously; surprisingly, they just stood back and stared instead of trying to get involved.

Reason Number One why you really couldn’t blame them: Reeves stood there, right in front of you. Literally less than two feet away, looking right at you. His mouth pulled up into his familiar lopsided grin, his hair still dark but shot through with strands of silver, curly on the top and shorter on the sides. His nose with the little dent, perfect on his face under those dark, luminous brown eyes and...holy shit, was he wearing eyeliner? He was wearing eyeliner.

Reason Number Two why you really couldn’t blame them: Leather pants. Under his old, faded t-shirt and black leather jacket (you were used to seeing him in brown, but you had to admit the black looked good) he was wearing leather pants.

Reason Number Three why you really couldn’t blame them: Quite simply, Reeves was standing in the middle of a bar in New York City and he was talking to you.

You blinked once, then twice. You may have blinked more times but all you could think about was the fact that, after all these years, your brain still couldn’t make words when Reeves asked you a question.

That same old question.

Suddenly you were grinning back, completely ignoring your friends and their dumbfounded squawking and sputtering next to you. You were smiling because even though your brain couldn’t make full sentences of words, it could pull one particular word out of the void and let it come out past your lips.

“Maybe.”

Reeves grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and the crinkles at the corners deepening.

Someone - maybe Vanessa, maybe a total stranger, you couldn’t be sure - might have swooned from the sidelines.

“Always told you I wanted to come to New York,” he said.

“Always told you I’d go back.”

And the next thing you knew, the next thing that made any sense anywhere in your mind, was that Reeves had stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and placed the softest, sweetest, most heart-achingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You pulled away in a daze, felt the heat rising in your cheeks, as you heard a muffled choking sound halfway behind you. Definitely Vanessa.

Alexis and Vanessa’s eyes, already bugging out of their faces, nearly fell out of their sockets when Reeves turned to address them.

“Hey, ladies. I’ll come talk to you after the show, but for now, I just need to borrow your friend for a few minutes, okay?”

There were somehow still more bizarre, mostly inhuman noises that came out of your friends and even later, when they’d deny ever acting like that in front of a famous rock star (and rolled their eyes at you when you corrected them that he was a musician, not a rock star), it wouldn’t matter because you weren’t paying a single bit of attention to them them anyway.

You only had eyes for one person.

He took your hand and pulled you past the bar, into a little room in the back; the office, presumably. The second you were both inside, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked you in the eyes. He just stared for a few minutes, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure.

It really didn’t matter.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered.

“Third day of school, fourth period biology class, sophomore year?”

Reeves smiled softly. “The second you walked in that door.”

“Why didn’t you?” you tilted your head to look at him. Okay, to gaze into his eyes. You tilted your head to gaze into his eyes and your subconscious hoped to any gods that would listen that you did not have actual hearts or stars in your pupils.

Not that it really mattered.

His arms never left you but he gave a little shrug. “Never seemed to be the right time. And then I had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “And I ended up with that lame excuse for a boyfriend. But do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?”

“When you couldn’t stop staring at me when you sat down at the lab table next to me?”

“Hmmm, maybe. But definitely when you told the teacher we had to have a funeral for Lenny.”

“Hey, Lenny was a fuckin’ hero,” Reeves batted his eyes at you innocently. “He performed a brave and great service to his country.”

“I am oddly happy you’re still an idiot,” you giggled.

“I’m ecstatic that you kept coming to all my shows in the city.”

You pulled back slightly and looked at the ceiling. “You noticed?”

Reeves gave you that look. That look he always gave you, when you were teenagers, when you said something either completely ridiculous or completely profound. That look he gave you when he thought you might not be looking, even though you were always looking. That look that said he always had your back and you were his best friend. That look that you thought you’d be lucky to see one more time but probably never would.

That look.

“Of course I noticed. I thought about having security make you stay back, but that’s just...no. You always looked happy, and I don’t know...I just didn’t want to intrude, I guess? Just always wondered why you never stuck around after the shows, never stayed to talk to me, never came knocking on the dressing room door.”

You thought about that for a minute. You really did try, but you couldn’t come up with a decent answer. You were happy. Just seeing him was enough, you told yourself. Just hearing him sing was enough, just being in the same room with him, just being near. Just like it was back in high school.

Only it wasn’t high school anymore, and now that he’d finally, finally - after years of would’ve and should’ve and maybes - kissed you, you knew enough wasn’t going to be, well, enough.

So that’s what you told him.

And Reeves pulled you close, leaned in closer, and kissed you again.

You pulled apart, breathless again, and rested your foreheads together.

After minutes, or maybe days, or maybe hours, and definitely years - it didn’t really matter - Reeves was there. You were there. And for once, you were really there together.

“Like what you see?”

“...definitely.”

The Future. Any Day. Every Day.

You always thought, and your friends always said, that the best years of your life happened in high school. And to a certain extent, that was true and you believed in that notion for a very long time.

But ever since that night, that one glorious night in a Manhattan bar, you realized you were wrong.

The best years of your life were still happening.

~end~

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#reeves #reeves x reader #reeves x you #reeves 10 years #10 years fanfiction #reeves fanfiction #Amandas800 #wasicskogirl #my writing #writing challenge #writing prompts

[runnyeggsnham]

“Can we dissect the blanket scene? I feel like there's a lot going on there. The conversation starts with Sylvie talking about Mobius and pointing out, without mockery, that Mobius cares about Loki. And for some reason Loki changes the subject and tries to flirt with her instead.

I wonder if part of him felt Sylvie was safer because he knows himself and potential future rejection is more familiar and less unnerving than someone actively rooting for him to succeed. I mean, aside from Sylvie holding hands with Loki on Lamentis, I don't think there was any point where she sincerely complimented him without either mocking or teasing him. This can be cute, but Loki /hungers/ for validation.”

Okay slight delay but yessss, Anon, let’s dissect it! this got really long btw haha oops.

funny enough, this scene didn’t (and still doesn’t tbh) sell me romance, so at the time I was also like ‘yeah this could go either way; are you flirting or just being awkward, Loki?' lol.

"I feel like there's a lot going on there. The conversation starts with Sylvie talking about Mobius and pointing out, without mockery, that Mobius cares about Loki."

there really is a lot going on, and like...considering everything that comes after, it really does feel like the writers undercut themselves here in the romance. badly. of course, notable is how Sylvie opens up very little in comparison to Loki, expressing her fear of Loki betraying her and then listening to all his reassurances but acting no less comforted and giving no assurances of her own.

but to your points, first off, why does Sylvie mentioned Mobius like this...and at all? she actually brings him up twice this convo, which I'd forgotten: the first is in regards to his character, in a positive way, yet she disputes the nexus event theory of his as a "TVA lie" later. bizarre choice, if the two mentions of Mobius are connected...not necessarily so bizarre, if they aren't. and I don't think they are.

I think Sylvie was considering Mobius in two different contexts: his connection to Loki, and then his theory because she was thinking of her connection with Loki. when she brought up the theory, it fits more neatly that she was thinking about it as part of a greater worry about whether she could let herself really trust Loki enough to be partners and that any trust and care could be mutual in such a powerful, genuine way like what Mobius thought. such an idea is so wholly new to her and it would make her vulnerable to believe it.

(and can we just for a second dwell on how Mobius is responsible for Loki thinking about his feelings for Sylvie AND Sylvie thinking about her feelings for Loki?? I cannot unmake that connection Anon but we can discuss another time, I don't want to get too far distracted from your points, just...yeah that's Something, isn't it?)

another thing, this scene starts off quiet and calm akin to Loki and Mobius' footsie one. but instead of Loki piping up to ask Mobius about his magazine, it's Sylvie piping up to give her perspective about Mobius. so when I said before that she was thinking of Mobius first in context of his connection to Loki, I say that because this sounds like her giving...approval, for lack of a better word, of the friendship?

plus the way it is delivered is purely observation - one she makes while not even looking at Loki, but off into the horizon. It feels wistful, to me, and you're right, there's no mocking. from the first to the last, Sylvie insists her story is not about Loki and she is not like him. so her observing Mobius in the car and then fishing with the "he's not so bad" and, after listening and looking at Loki's reaction, ending, "he cares about you" with such finality, it feels to me like, 'ah yes, you aren't truly alone, not even after suffering from the TVA.' it feels like she's confirmed a suspicion.

which...if that is the case...has several implications in hindsight. I'll try to run through the two that came to mind real quick, Anon! I just think they're neat...

first, I think it further made Loki's finale pleading - specifically the lines of TVA hurting them both but this choice being beyond their experiences and about the universe - fall flat in Sylvie's eyes. because Sylvie may not have been able to believe Loki had been hurt enough to really understand her and therefore she couldn't see him as right enough to sway her from her lifelong plan, yeah? he's misguided because she's experienced worse, so she knows better.

second, on Sylvie maybe confirming her suspicion regarding Mobius and Loki's friendship...this sequence is where Sylvie would then get the idea to send Loki back to the TVA, to Mobius, right?

because it's Sylvie that involves Mobius at all in this convo, and where did Sylvie determine this opinion of Mobius? their car scene, which just further adds layers to this foreshadowing of betrayal, of being unable to trust Loki. Sylvie was surprised that Mobius still believed, with no doubt, that Loki was here in the Void somewhere, surviving, and Sylvie just could not get her hopes up for that. she did not allow herself that. it was all just about them getting out of the Void now. focus on Alioth, focus on the mission.

when Sylvie sets her mind to something, she becomes absolutely fixated, unswayable. the finale pleading from Loki was the closest, but arguably still missed by a mile. and while Mobius was willing to support her here in the Void and go along with that plan, the sadness is all over his face at such a prospect. by the dialogue, I think it makes more sense for him to have just shared the nexus event theory before we see them, so despite believing their connection was timeline shattering, he still has the most hope of the two in Loki...

anyway, off topic. back to Sylvie to wrap up that other implication.

this car ride gives Sylvie that inkling of Mobius' care, and that first dialogue with Loki then confirms it, right? so Sylvie knew that, push come to shove, from betrayal or not, if Loki stops going along on the mission with her then she needs a b-plan to continue on. mission first, always. no hesitation. the hesitation in the finale, to me, read as a shift between her feeling that she had to fight Loki to her willing to acknowledge he isn't "evil Loki", perhaps he isn't after that throne after all as he insists, perhaps it really is all about care for her and the universe...but that's not enough to stop the mission. so she distracts him and sends him back to the TVA. she sends him to where she knows there's someone else who cares about him.

she could have sent him anywhere. but the TVA was best, because he has Mobius. because of what she witnessed and heard between and regarding them in the Void...there's no other scene that would've set up this destination decision, no? and what would be the odds she'd choose a place at random and it was the TVA...? i think it was intentional.

"And for some reason Loki changes the subject and tries to flirt with her instead. I wonder if part of him felt Sylvie was safer because he knows himself and potential future rejection is more familiar and less unnerving than someone actively rooting for him to succeed."

gosh, yeah, that's interesting, right? weird turn to flirting. I feel like...he was initially just trying to get Sylvie to open up so they could explore that nexus event theory. going with Loki's feelings being romantic, I think he's already entertaining or partially convinced himself here about these feelings....which, narratively, just highlights Sylvie's repeated distance until Loki presses the matter by putting the blanket on her shoulders.

you posit a really fascinating idea about Loki's mindset....really interesting. I do think there's something there, because Loki does try to bridge the distance, twice, and Sylvie kind of rejects it, but in ways that Loki is really familiar with and don't really challenge him. it made me think again, about how Loki takes Mobius' tolerance and understanding and tries to apply it to Sylvie, because he does recognize parts of himself in her and her behaviors.

so yeah, I can totally see how that would make Loki feel Sylvie's safe, in this odd way, because he knows her patterns when he looks for them. (it's when he convinces himself that they've made more progress than there is in reality that he gets blindsided by the betrayal....)

here, these are the two bridge the distance moments I mean:

he mentions the cold, but Sylvie just hums and keeps looking away, not really engaging. then, he conjures his blanket and offers to conjure one for her.

and she deflects, commenting about him conjuring her a new outfit because it's so uncomfortable and he wouldn't know that, and Loki just...juts out his jaw, huffs a laugh, and presses his lips together. because...actually, Loki does know how tight leather ensembles feel...but Sylvie doesn't know that about him (writers really shouldn't keep highlighting how little these two know about each other). anyway, it's a Loki style deflection, so he waits. and after a few beats, Sylvie brings up the nexus event, Mobius' theory, and they do their verbal dance of Sylvie's hesitantly expressed fears, Loki's assurances, and Sylvie's responding "maybe" to figuring it all out together.

your thought is just, I'm gonna say it again, so fascinating...because the more I think about it, the more I see how well it applies? like, it may not even necessarily be Loki consciously thinking about himself. I don't know that he was, in these moments? it feels like he threw himself so fully into Sylvie's plan, Sylvie's purpose, Sylvie's recovery...and he took everything he learned from Mobius' treatment of him to do so.

narratively, there is no one else, no other source considering that yeah, this was 2012 Loki before Mobius helped him strip away the illusions and put himself back together. and just...the writers really didn't see what they were doing? amazing.

so your thought, I think it actually kind of compliments what is being said about these two's storyline being indicative of self-love, because in that case, it's Loki looking at a mirror of some parts of himself and learning to love them from an outside perspective...and it's him having to come to terms with the ones that betray/self-sabotage and hurt him, too. like back at Roxxcart, that line, "I would never treat me this way." as he sees in the Void, though...a lot of variants of himself actually would treat him that badly.

so by getting so close to Sylvie, Loki gets a fresh perspective on how different he is now, how he himself, this variant that he alone is, is not destined to repeat those patterns. but that doesn't mean he can save every other variant that he wants to either. they can be close to him, they can be full of a lot of good, but he can't force that same change on them that he went through. they're all different and have to do it, have to choose to do the work, themselves.

but yeah, I agree. with the rejection in these little moments with Sylvie, it's so easy for Loki to dismiss them because it's "less unnerving than someone actively rooting for him to succeed" and add on to that that Loki's approaching her from a very Mobius-influenced perspective, constantly trying to put himself in her perspective and empathize with her, instead...Loki replaces his purpose with well-meaning intentions, at least. but he's giving too much and Sylvie is returning too little. it's not balanced, right from the start, and it never becomes so.

which that, at least, is quite fitting for Loki's growth, right? it's a pendulum swing, and that swing too far to the opposite side toward Sylvie just to get knocked right back...that propels him to come to terms with it all and race to find Mobius. it's another step on him accepting all the good and the bad of himself and Lokis and what it means to try and fail and try again. all so he can find his pendulum's center, his balance.

"I mean, aside from Sylvie holding hands with Loki on Lamentis, I don't think there was any point where she sincerely complimented him without either mocking or teasing him. This can be cute, but Loki /hungers/ for validation."

I haven't rewatched 1-6 straight through yet but...I think you're right. I cannot remember another one without a mock or tease involved. and yeah, Loki has been so deprived of validation, it's like sunlight for him. again why I think maybe he threw himself into the connection with Sylvie so hard: he thought she was innately better, and he wanted to take on that role of supportive partner as a way to shift and find a new, a good, purpose. he was quite selfless...but he shouldn't have to be so much that Sylvie can't eventually meet him in the middle and return the same sentiment.

the closest they really get is that "maybe we can figure it out together" "maybe", I think, and that's just not close enough imo. contrast that with Loki's repeated validations from Mobius, and more importantly, what it says about those validations and that connection that he races to find Mobius, full of relief at the sight and immediately willing to confess, his trust in their relationship not rocked or made insecure by everything that's happened...whew.

I'm so glad you mentioned the blanket scene because I don't think I would have rewatched it anytime soon but your points are so good, really interesting to think about, and there is just soo much going on in this scene that ties beyond. utterly insane that the writers seem to have no idea the full scope of what they were presenting and how often they put these two dynamics in direct contrast when they were doing it lol.

#lokius #wowki #/// #//// #///// #(very late posting Anon but here you go! #I'm gonna go dream about these scenes from this new perspective now. #super intriguing. these convos are really making my brain whirr and I love it haha. #also song recommendation for lokius: heaven is a place by amber run. #🤗) #tv #anonymous #answer #commentary #m;

[malewifeklaviergavin]

Oops sorry! I meant to put klapollo but my brain got ahead of me 😂

(Hand holding: only realizing it when they have to let go.)

"You sure I can't convince you to come on tour with me, Schatz?" Klavier asked softly, eyes wide. If Apollo were a lesser man (he nearly was) he would have cracked right there outside the cab. He'd let go of his worries and concerns and obligations and step inside and spend the next year travelling the world with his stupid, foppish boyfriend listening to his stupid, foppish music and enjoying their stupid, foppish time together.

Apollo, though, had always been known for his restraint.

"I can't. I have to stay here and help Mr. Wright and Athena with everything. And... it isn't a good time to leave." Apollo replied just as quietly. Four days ago, he had been Apollo Justice, family of one. Three days ago, he had been informed that he and Trucy actually made a family of two. The idea of leaving now, when there was so much to discuss and a sister who needed her big brother... It was untenable. Apollo had always been known for his sense of duty, as well. And duty sometimes meant doing things that broke your heart.

Klavier nodded, eyes knowing. "Tell Fraulein Wright that I'll miss her. I can't wait to get to know her as your little sister. I'm sure the family resemblance will be obvious by the time I get back." Despite the lightness of his words, Klavier's face was still wistful. This was the longest they'd been apart. Even when Apollo had lived in Khu'rain, they'd managed near monthly visits. However, what with the constant moving around the world and busy schedule, that was nearly impossible this time. As well, even without the current truth bomb, Apollo knew he just wasn't built to move around so much and so frequently. Unlike Klavier, he thrived under stability and routine.

And so, Apollo found himself stuck at home while Klavier packed his bags.

"I'll fly out for your last concert, okay? And you call me every day. And if that stupid reporter from England gives you shit again you tell me and I'll hit him with a defamation lawsuit so hard his shitty teeth will get knocked clean out." Apollo said fiercely, ignoring the way his heart was aching. What if something happened? Too many people had disappeared from Apollo's life. He didn't think he heart could take it if something happened to Klavier.

"Ach, I'll be fine Mausi." Klavier finally smiled; not his glimmering rockstar smile or his smarmy courtroom grin. His smaller, quieter, sweeter smiles he reserved for Apollo like a precious benefaction. "I am looking forward to stretching the creative muscle once more. Besides, it's a solo tour. No band members to set me on fire this time."

Apollo frowned. "Not funny. You just... Be safe okay? I'll be here waiting. Now," Apollo cleared his throat decisively. "You should get going. You'll be late for your flight."

Klavier smiled and pressed a kiss to Apollo's forehead, right between the eyes. "... You'll have to let go of my hand first, Schatz." Klavier pointed out.

Apollo jolted and looked down, realizing that at some point in his fussing he'd grabbed Klavier's hand tight. He took a minute before letting go to stare at their joined hands, throat closed with emotion. This was it. He wouldn't see his boyfriend in person for a year. They'd call and video chat, but it was going to be a year without kissing, or cuddling, or touching. No more late nights watching movies on the couch. No working together on dinner. No more hand holding.

"Apollo." Klavier said quietly, squeezing Apollo's hand. "It's okay, Liebling. It's only 365 days. That's nothing. I would wait longer than that for you, and I know you'll wait that long for me too. So let go, because the sooner I leave the sooner I come home to you."

Swallowing down his fears and his own breaking heart, Apollo let go.

"There, see? Not so hard." Klavier stepped back and Apollo felt the distance already like a phantom pain. "You won't even notice I'm gone. You did fine without me before we met. You'll be fine when I'm gone, too."

"I'm Apollo Justice and I'm fine." Apollo's voice cracked around the words. "I'll miss you."

Klavier nodded, still smiling that gentle smile. "I know. 365 days. Think you can manage, Justice?" He asked, voice teasing. And there it was, that facet of Klavier that always encouraged Apollo to do better, to be better. He could do this.

365 days was nothing compared to the rest of their lives.

Finally, Apollo cracked a tearful smile. "Bring it on, Gavin."

#anonymous #klavier gavin #apollo justice #my writing #ace attorney #its ok he has a great tour and at the last performance Apollo proposes to him and they live happily ever after

[wrenhyperfixates]

Full Disclosure

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Thor has always been supportive of his brother’s love life, but Loki won’t tell him that he’s dating you. When Thor won’t stop setting him up on dates, Loki has to move past his fears and confess. Warnings: just a fluff-bomb A/N: Thank you for requesting, my lovely nonny! This is longer than a typical imagine might be because I had so much fun with it (in fact it’s really more of a oneshot, oops). If you wanted something a little shorter, I already had a similar incorrect quote in my drafts that I’ll be posting for you later in the week :)

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

Sometimes it was hard to have a brother so dense. There were plenty of times during their youth when Loki would try to discuss lessons or ladies with Thor, but never seemed to make any sort of breakthrough. It was only when Loki started dating you that he was glad for it, as it made hiding the blooming relationship much easier. That is, until Thor kept trying to set him up on dates.

“I believe I might shove my brother off a cliff, darling,” Loki whined one afternoon, dramatically flopping on your bed.

“Aww. What did he do now?” you inquired after giving him a small peck on the lips.

“He arranged another date for me, and I was left with the arduous task of cancelling. It is a wonder how he has not noticed how absolutely smitten I am with you, my love.”

He nuzzled into your neck as you cuddled him, breathing in your comforting scent. You bent your head down to place a kiss on the adorable little crinkle between his brows. He relaxed a bit, but you could tell he was still stressed.

“Well, we could always tell him about us,” you suggested as Loki’s frown reappeared. “I mean, almost everyone else on the team figured it out. So I don’t really see why we shouldn’t tell Thor.”

Loki pondered this for a moment. True, the other Avengers were aware of your relationship, save for Steve and Bucky, who were too oblivious to even realize their own feelings for each other. Still, it was different with Thor, his brother, his only family left. He knew how fond of you Thor was, but if he were to oppose to the two of you dating, he had no idea what he’d do.

“My brother can be overbearing. I am not certain that telling him is the best option at present.”

“Ok. If you’re sure that’s all, then we’ll wait.”

He whispered a thank you into your hair as you shifted positions so that now he was spooning you. The whole reason you’d decided to keep the fact you were dating a secret in the first place was to be able to enjoy quiet moments like this. Loki has been worried that his teammates would disapprove and try to split you up. Surprisingly, they were supportive, even if they did engage in some subtle teasing. Though, their knowledge of your relationship made what happened at dinner the next night all the more embarrassing.

You and Loki kept secretly holding hands under the table, earning you some smirks from your teammates who happened to notice. Feeling self-conscious, you broke apart but left your legs touching ever so slightly, just enough to feel the warmth radiating off each other. You must have laughed a little too loudly at something Loki said because, suddenly, Thor got what he thought to be a novel idea.

“You know,” he said, pointing at you and Loki, “I believe you two would make a really cute couple.” As if that weren’t bad enough, he continued in a stage whisper, “You should really ask them out, Loki.”

The God of Mischief turned bright red as you started fidgeting in your seat. Everyone else made eye contact with each other before giving in to a bout of laughter. Thor demanded to know what was so funny, but no one could get any words out. When Tony laughed so hard he fell out of his seat, Loki decided that he’d had enough.

“Brother,” he shouted over the din. “I-well, we have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” he shouted back, still not catching on.

“Maybe we should do this somewhere quieter,” you suggested after a small sigh.

The three of you made your way out of the noisy dining room, and Loki started wringing his hands as both his lover and brother looked at him expectantly. This was his moment to finally get the truth out there. Unfortunately, his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and lashed out with a dagger, striking Thor.

“Surprise attack!”

“Loki!” you bellowed, upset with your boyfriend.

“Do not worry, my friend. This is a normal occurrence,” Thor assured you as Loki grabbed your hand and whisked you away.

Once behind closed doors, you fixed him with a withering glare. He knew that he was being ridiculous, especially now that Thor has shown he would be fine with you two dating. But Loki realized something else was stopping from sharing his joy with his brother. If he told Thor, it would be like bridging his old life and his new one. Granted, you already knew of his past misdeeds, but what if there was something else he hasn’t told you? Something long forgotten in his memory that Thor lets slip? In the end, his reluctance all boiled down to a fear of losing you.

“I know, I know. That was not the best route to choose. I just didn’t think it was the right time to say anything,” he lied.

“Why can’t you just be honest with me, Loki?” you pleaded as tears formed in your eyes. “It’s obvious that you’re embarrassed of me or something. The least you could do is tell the truth about it.”

“Oh, my darling,” he cooed, wiping a plump drop that had fallen and made a glistening track halfway down your cheek. “Please understand that my inability to tell my brother of us has nothing to do with you. You are the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me.”

“Then what is it?”

“I fear that you may come to resent me if you hear any more of my past.”

“Loki,” you said, voice heavy with emotion. “Look at me. I know that you’ve done some... questionable things before. But I know you now, and that’s what I care about. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but you work harder than anyone I know to make up for it. It’s one of the many reasons that I love you.”

He looked at you with eyes full of gratitude before hugging you close. “I love you too, dearest. Never doubt that.”

The air relaxed around Loki and his beloved as a quiet contemplation settled in. He slowly rocked the two of you back and forth, trying to plan his next move. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was not knowing what to do next. But he was sure that, with you beside him, he could figure it out.

“Ok,” you said after sucking in a long breath. “We’ll wait then. As long as you need.”

“No,” Loki interjected, coming to a conclusion as you spoke. “I want to tell him now. Well, maybe not right at this moment. But tomorrow for certain.”

After checking that he was sure of this decision, you agreed to have lunch with Thor where you would tell him the news. Loki’s nerves were at an all-time high by noon the next day. He helped you set the table to try to calm them, but nothing seemed to cull his worries.  You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing kisses to the tense spots between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright. I promise,” you reassured him, hoping to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling.

He relaxed in your embrace for a second before you broke away upon hearing Thor’s heavy footsteps approaching. Loki tweaked the utensils once more, and you pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles in a final act of comfort. It also helped some that Thor seemed to be in an even more jovial mood than usual. Which, of course, was saying something as the god was relentlessly optimistic.

Sitting down, he greeted you both by name and told you everything smelled delicious. The God of Thunder bit his lip to hold back a smile, but you and Loki could see it tugging its way onto his face. The two of you shared a look, attempting to figure out what exactly was the cause of such joy for the older Odinson boy.

“Um, Thor?” you said. “Is there something you wanted to share with us?”

“No. Is there something you want to share with me?”

Another look passed between you and Loki. Suddenly, Loki realized that his brother must know the news you were about to share. It figures that after all this time, he worked it out moments before he was about to come clean.

“You have figured it out,” Loki sighed, “haven’t you?”

Thor nodded eagerly and came around the table to hug his brother and friend, overjoyed that they were dating. He loosened his grip around you upon hearing your gasping voice telling him he was hugging too tight, a terrible habit of his.

“But when did you figure it out?” you questioned, puzzling over the timeline of events.

“I have known for months, of course.” He tried to stick to this story, but the skeptical looks from both you and his brother made him abandon his position. “I saw you two being all cuddly just before I came in,” he conceded with slumped shoulders.

All three of you began to laugh, and Loki was surprised by how relieved he felt at not having to actually confess. The rest of the lunch went swimmingly, and the God of Mischief relaxed further, happy to have both his brother and beloved in such high spirits. Unfortunately, his own sunk when Thor offered to tell a story about him. It seemed like his worst fears were about to come true.

“One time when we were children,” Thor began with a wistful look in his eye, “Loki tried to use some of his magic and accidentally turned himself into a cat. He came to my room and pestered me until I brought him to mother. Remember that, brother?”

“Indeed, I do,” Loki said with a nostalgic laugh, feeling relieved that was all Thor shared. “It was one of the first spells I ever tried. I am afraid that I sorely botched it. I was coughing hair balls for weeks.”

“So that’s why you won’t let me get a kitten!” you added with a laugh of your own.

The brothers went back and forth telling embarrassing stories about the other. You refused to share any of your awkward childhood moments, and your companions vowed to get some out of you one day. All in all, Loki had a great time. He squeezed your hand in thanks under the table. With shining eyes he observed you and Thor laughing. He realized that, for the first time in his life, he had nothing to worry about. After all, he’d been wrong when he’d thought Thor was the only family he had left. Now you were his family, too. And nothing could possibly take away you or the love you shared.

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki fluff #fluff #mcu loki #marvel reader insert #marvel #marvel fanfiction #reader insert #loki fanfic #mcu reader insert #mcu fanfiction #thor odinson #the avengers #request #anon request #thanks for requesting! #established relationship #gender neutral reader #loki pov

[hargrove-mayfields]

okay so I know it’s been ages (I totally lost this in my drafts. oops!), but a while back I wrote this drabble and @trans-siberian-marching-band left a comment that inspired this follow up!

“When you were growing up, did you ever want siblings?”

They’re out in their backyard, something that still makes the both of them emotional, the fact that they have a space together that they can call theirs, sitting on the porch swing under the stars, just talking.

It’s funny, there was a time when they couldn’t ever do this kind of thing without something to smoke, only ever having these deep conversations because of the Chocolate Thai that Steve used to like so much, but they can’t really do that sort of thing anymore for the sake of Billy’s lungs.

Which, Billy knew well things weren’t going to be the same once he got out of the hospital, and he was okay with that even, after so long a recovery, it just worried him a little, to think he wouldn’t be the same person. But Steve, he had a way of proving him wrong, always showing him that even if things changed, they still had eachother, and that was what was most important to the both of them.

It wasn’t just the photo album thing either, it was keeping up all of their little traditions and habits, different as they may be now, and making dozens of new ones, building a life together and showing him that this was okay.

“More than anything.” Billy responds to Steve’s question, a little wistful. Being a big brother used to be what he would wish for on every birthday candle or shooting star that went past his window.

Steve hums and sits back a little further on the swing, looking up at the sky, “I bet you liked it a lot when Max came along then.”

And he doesn’t mean to, but Billy scoffs, says a bit harshly, “No way, I hated her guts.”

“Oh.” Steve looks over at Billy, a little put off by his answer if the slight frown on his face is any indication, but he shares his own thoughts all the same, “Well I always wanted a little sister.”

“I did too.” Billy admits, making Steve look even more confused as he asks him, a sort of confrontational edge to his voice, “Then what was wrong with Max?”

Billy sighs. The reason is something he’s never shared with a single soul, never scribbled in the pages of his diary, or even mentioned in a prayer. He looks up at the sky with Steve, and tells him, his voice so quiet the emptiness almost swallows his words, “Momma was five months pregnant when she left. I couldn’t stand Max because she wasn’t my real sister. Wasn’t my Raini.”

Billy was eight years old when his momma had told him that she was pregnant, explaining all about what that meant as she was tucking him into his bed each night, when Neil would stay late at work, even later at the bar.

She would take extra care to always tell him how he was going to be such a good role model for his baby sister when she came, and even taught him about all the things you had to do for a baby. He couldn’t have been more excited.

But instead of his family getting bigger, four months before he’s supposed to be able to meet the baby, it gets smaller. His momma, trying to make sure that her husband wouldn’t be able to control her pregnancy or hurt her baby, takes off with most of Billy’s things packed in her car and nothing more than a promise to be back before the end of the month.

Except, that doesn’t ever happen. His dad moves them all the way to the other side of the state before it can.

Little Billy hadn’t known what to do with himself. He was beyond devastated, even more so when he found out over the phone his momma wouldn’t be able to make the trip to come get him like she had initially promised, and that he’d have to live with just his father from then on.

It’s a horrible thing, for a child so young to realize he’ll never see his mother again, never have the things she took with her to cherish, never meet the little girl he was so excited to be a big brother to. Billy honestly doesn’t think Neil ever even found out that his mom was pregnant.

With time Billy would forget a lot of things, trauma blocks and so many months in a coma a major hindrance on his memory, but he could never forget his baby sister.

Steve brings him back out of his head with a simple question, so much concern written on his face it makes Billy’s stomach turn, “You never even met her?”

“Nope. Lost contact with momma before she was even born, so.” Billy says, scrunching up his nose when it burns with tears, the one sure fire giveaway that he’s upset that Steve never ever misses.

“Well you should find her now.” Steve says, but despite the heartfelt nature of his words, the suggestion is immediately turned down with a, “It’s not that easy.”

“Well know her name, don’t you? Raini?”

“Yeah, Raini Mae, but I have no idea what her surname is. She never met Neil so she’s probably not a Hargrove, momma’s maiden name was Ellison, but maybe she got married again after Neil.” Billy explains, frustrated that Steve’s telling him all the same things he’d been thinking about for the last twenty some odd years, “Hell, it’s been so long, maybe Raini’s even married by now.”

“Please, Billy. You have to at the very least try.” Steve says, taking up Billy’s hand in his.

“Why? So I can find one more person who was supposed to care about me and never did?” Billy asks, and they both know that’s unfair, but he’s stubborn, hurt by what happened and terrified of finding out something he doesn’t want to know, “I love you, but I’m not doing this for you.”

But Steve, he isn’t letting this go so quickly. This is the only thing that Billy still kept a secret from him after all these years, this has to be important. He thinks hard about it, and offers hopefully, “Would you let me though? Would you talk to her, even just one time, if I found her for you?”

Billy looks at him, his eyes shining with tears that had been waiting to fall since he was just a kid, and he nods, “Of course I would.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Steve’s says determinedly, his mind made up. He was going to find Billy’s sister, no matter what.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #this is just part one btw! #this’ll be a whole series tracked by this tag —> #billy has a sister! #also like I’m well aware that with how ultrasound technology was back in the day it’s unlikely that they’d know the baby was a girl #but like y’know I don’t really care #also thank you to the people who made maiden name suggestions for Billy’s mom ages ago #I picked my favorite but I tested literally all of them and it was a tough choice