soften

distance - klance season 4

(based on the beautiful art by @badenlily link here  that is sooo beautiful - that you should all marvel at before you read this!! - and this thing I wrote is nowhere near worthy of it, but thank you so much for letting me write it!! This is set somewhere in season 4, I assume? i also posted this over on my ao3 here

“It looks good on you,” Lance says, his elbow propped up against Red’s control panel, his chin held in his palm; looking at Keith in his video feed. “The hood, I mean, it makes you look all mysterious.”

“Hm,” Keith says, looking up from sharpening his blade; he blinks at him, then what Lance had said registers and his cheeks turn a soft pink. He reaches up and touches his hood, “Oh, thanks, Lance.” He hadn’t really thought about whether or not it looked good, he’d been more interested in the durability and practicality of his suit, and how/if the hood would help keep him disguised if he needed it. 

“The purple really brings out your eyes,” Lance says, settling into this, complimenting Keith with a hint of glee; his lips widening into an easy, possibly flirty grin. “It makes them pop.”

“Pop?” Keith repeats, raising an eyebrow. He sheaths his blade then, leaning closer to the screen to look at his own eyes and Lance looks at them too, they are really, really pretty eyes.

“Yup,” Lance says, not explaining further, “Pop.”

“Well, you look really good in your undersuit,” Keith says easily, without a hint of embarrassment at his incredibly embarrassing words. “It makes your shoulders look really broad.”

“W-what?” Lance stutters, his cheeks flushing; he can dish it out with ease, but can’t handle it when he gets it back in return. “Stop messing around, Keith!”

“I’m not,” Keith says back, indignant; confused by Lance’s refusal to accept his genuine compliment. “It looks good on you.”

Keep reading

mulders-boyish-enthousiasm  asked:

How would Scully react to Mulder dropping a condom wrapping in the office?

not fucking well, dude. i just realized this wasn’t in the office, sorry!

set… post one son.

***

She misses him. This detail is what sometimes turns that steady simmer of annoyance – always present, even on their best days, it’s just elemental to feel whittled and weakened by him, just as it is to feel his necessity – into a rapid, unforgiving boil. And she loathes it as much as he does. This anger wears her down. This anger makes her stupid. She is weighed by it, can’t control it. And when she misses him, it’s even harder to rationalize.

But how could she not miss him? Mulder rewrites everything she has ever known about companionship. There is a seeking missile in him that works and works to pinpoint all that Dana Scully is missing in her life, and then it works to fill it.

And he is sweet. Oh, he is sweet. The gentler side of Mulder is actually all grit: the sandpaper of it smooths her out, those rugged, wary edges of her oscillating mistrust. He doesn’t listen. He never listens. He is his own first thought when he wakes up and he is the one he falls asleep to. He betrayed her. But he helps her with her coat at the end of a long work day. He is patient with her, does not take her resentment for granted. He is a shock-absorber for her bitterness. A continent-jumper, all in her honor. He carries on with his half of their partnership as if nothing had changed, his unshakable optimism imploring her that it really hadn’t. He flirts with her. He fights with her. He gets her coffee right.

But this morning he takes it further. She begins to wonder how deep her hostility cuts him – she begins to worry. He comes into the office in a rumpled suit, his face unshaven. He downs aspirin and coffee in three hour intervals. It had been almost a year since she had seen him this disheveled, back when he had nothing to believe in.

Except for her.

He clings to her. In every other way but physically, finds a million different things to talk about, fills up even the healthy silences with his rambling chatter. “Scully?” he asks. Every time she takes too long to answer. “Scully?” And that total relief when she looks up to reply. He stays in the basement for lunch, eats nothing, when she tells him she brought her lunch with her. Follows her when she checks on results from the print lab. She’s annoyed, but mostly bewildered. Then there’s the physical. His hand on her back, yes, but her shoulders, too, her wrists. It bothers her that she doesn’t mind it so much. She can’t remember the last time she really had to take care of Mulder.

“Are you alright?” she runs her hand through his hair. She misses that, too. He looks up at her, startled, but quickly molds his face into something more neutral.

“Just not feeling well, Scully.”

She doesn’t press. She’s too doubtful of her place in Mulder’s life too often, these days. But she does let him cling. She softens her voice when she speaks to him. She doesn’t brush him off, she let’s go of all of the hurt, at least for the day. He seems more than grateful for it, almost to the point of awe. It bothers her… that she doesn’t mind it so much. That she needs to be needed like this.

At the end of the day, they’re putting on their coats. Their quiet is easy and Mulder, for the most part, appears recuperated. He drapes her in her wool, like always, keeps his hands on her for a little longer than necessary. She waits for him while he slips into his suit jacket, figuring they might as well ride out together.

“I was thinking… about those prints they lifted from the victim’s car. There’s something off about the sebaceous composition. The lab says they’ve never seen it before.” She lets him lead her to her car in the bustling garage, handing out her peace offering without the hint of a smile.  “Why don’t you come over and explain to me why that means it couldn’t possibly be terrestrial in nature?”

His face lights up. God, damn him. She feels like she’s been kicking a puppy in the same tender spots for months and months. “Scully, I thought you’d never ask.” He reaches into his pocket for his own keys. “I’ll bring pizza. You still eat that, right? If you think I’m going to argue with a Dana Scully fueled on nothing but coffee and granola – shit.” Not paying attention, his keys fall to the ground with a metal splatter.

“Here, let me – “ she bends down to scoop them up, but freezes when her eyes hit the concrete.

That dark, primordial filth inside of her, the rigid tension in her protoplasm. She blacks out, like she always does. In these moments she only has the capacity to feel everything wrong. She slowly picks up the keys, and the empty condom wrapper along with it.

“Scully,” Mulder says. “Scully.”

He uses too many words. The details of an event write themselves on his face so plainly. In ruined seconds she pieces out, from his guilty, avoidant eyes and the slowness with which he forms his thoughts, what happened, who it happened with. A full case report with only a mental photograph. Her grip around the keys and wrapper tightens, but he won’t take them from her. So she lets them fall back on the floor.

She never remembers what it’s like to hate someone this much. What inspires a woman to run her lover over with her car, empty out her gun into his heart, play in the meat left over. She’s in her car before she knows it, yanking the door out of his hands with less force than she meant for. In that moment, she doesn’t miss him.

BTS Reaction - Pulling away

Seokjin

Jin’s practically shaking with laughter as he tells you his anecdote, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, but really, you’re only half-listening.

“And then Kookie, he said-”  Jin cuts himself short when he looks at you from across the table, his eyebrows starting to pull downward into a frown as he realises how little you’re actually paying attention.  Usually you’d be laughing along with him - you’ve got the same lame sense of humour he does, and he loves you for it - but tonight you’re just staring at your plate, poking at your food, and it’s starting to unsettle him.  “Jagi, is everything ok?”  

“Hm?” you ask distractedly, only glancing up at him for a moment before your eyes drop once more.  

“Don’t you like it?”  

“It’s fine, Jin, I’m just… I’ve just gone off fish a little lately,” you tell him.  It’s a lame excuse, but you’d rather tell him that than tell him the truth - tell him that the reason you can’t eat is because you feel so nauseous with anxiety that you might throw up if you eat anymore.  

“Ah, it’s a good job I made your favourite dessert then!” he says enthusiastically, getting up from the table and whisking your still-full plate out from in front of you to take it to the kitchen.  “Can’t have you going hungry.”  

God, why does he have to be so sweet all the time?  So god damn perfect?  It’ll only make it feel so much worse when it eventually falls apart - and you know it will, because when you’re involved everything always does.  It’s inevitable.  

“You know what, I think I might just go home,” you say quickly, before he’s even managed to pull on his gloves to take out the apple pie you can smell cooking in the oven.  He falters, coming to a standstill between the kitchen counters, and when you finally bring yourself to look at him it makes your heart thud painfully.  “I don’t feel too good.”  

“Ok, let me drive you-”

“It’s fine, I’ll get a cab.”  If you say ‘it’s fine’ one more time this evening you think you might punch yourself in the face.  It’s not fine, nothing is, but you know it’s best you pull away a little now, before you both get in too deep. At least it might help to soften the blow.  

“Ok….” you hear him mumble as he turns off the oven and you pull on your coat.  He walks you to the door, and now it’s him that can’t look at you.  “Hope you feel better soon.”  

“Thanks.”

“See you soon?”

“See you soon,” you reply, and it feels like a goodbye.   

Originally posted by lavender-kills

Yoongi

“So I was thinking; there’s a new Mexican place that’s opened,” Yoongi tells you, his voice sounding even lower than usual over the phone after he’s clearly just woken up.  “You wanna go check it out sometime?”

“Hm… I dunno,” you mumble, rolling over in bed, your cell smushed between your ear and the pillow.  

“C’mon, their churros are supposed to be the shit.”  Despite yourself, you end up smiling at Yoongi’s words.  You wish you hadn’t though.  That momentary flicker of happiness now just makes you feel all the more miserable as you stare at the picture of Yoongi and you you’ve got pinned to your bedside cabinet.  

“I don’t really like Mexican food…”  You’re trying so hard to find an excuse not to make plans, to avoid seeing him for a little while.  It’s not that you don’t care about Yoongi.  Jesus, you most definitely do - but therein lies the problem.  It’s starting to feel scary now, how close you’re becoming.  You’re seeing each other too often, he’s texting you every day, and it feels wrong now if you go to sleep without hearing him say goodnight.  This growing dependency on him, this vulnerability; it’s terrifying.  

“Since when?” he scoffs, and all you can do in reply is sigh.  There’s a silence on the other end of the line, and in the end you have to roll away from that picture of the two of you that you love so much.  His eyes are too penetrating, too perceptive, even in a frozen image.  “What about chinese then?  You love chinese.”   He’s right, you do, and there’s no way you can deny that - not when the last time you went you ended up stuffing your face so much that he had to nurse you with a bad belly for the rest of the night.  

“Can I maybe just take a raincheck?  I’ve got so much work to do, Yoongi, and I’m sure you’re busy too.”  

There’s silence again but this time it feels uncomfortable, and it’s making you fidget even without being able to see the frosty expression you know he’ll be wearing right now.  

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, Noona?  I’ve done it enough times myself to know when someone’s holding back.”  You swallow hard, staring at the wall and starting to chew your thumbnail nervously.  What are you supposed to say when he’s called you out like that; made you feel like the idiot you know you are?

He gives you an adequate amount of time to reply, to turn back from this road you’re travelling down, but when no response comes you hear him sigh, even his voice turning cold when his next words travel into your ears.  

“Either call me when you’re ready to get real, or don’t bother calling me at all.”  

Originally posted by minshoot

Hoseok

“Ah, babygirl, that was amazing.”  Hobi’s still panting from exertion as he lies next to you, staring at the ceiling with the goofiest of grins on his faces.  He’s always like this after you’ve had sex, always deliriously happy, like every time you do it is his first time, and you know what’s coming next.  

He rolls onto his side, grabbing the sheet and pulling it up to cover your naked, sticky bodies and then snuggling closer, slinging his arm over his hip and pulling you close, sweat be damned.  He always gets so affectionate too, so tactile when he’s dosed up on oxytocin, and though at first you loved it, lately it’s become nothing but a source of anxiety to you.  It’d be fine if cuddling was all it was, but it’s not just that.  No, Hobi insists on lying there staring at you like you’re his everything, his entire world, his eyes taking in every little of your face until you end up laughing and batting him away, telling him to stop being such a freak.  

You don’t want him to look at you like that and nor do you want to be placed on his pedestal; not when you know it’ll make your inevitable fall from grace so much higher and more painful.   You don’t deserve all these loving looks and touches, not when you’re going to break his heart.  Though you don’t yet know how it’ll happen yet you know it will, because it’s just what you do.  

“I wish we could do this all day, every day,” he says wistfully, reaching up to thumb your cheek, staring back into your eyes.  You try to diffuse things with humour, rolling your eyes and pushing his hand away from your face, trying to ignore the way hurt flickers across his face.  

“That’s ‘cus you’re a horny bastard, Hobi.”  You sit up to put some distance between you, running your fingers through your hair to try and put it right.  Of course, he then sits up too, smoothing out the part of your hair at the back you can’t see to fix with his gentle hands.   

“Not just for that,” he persists, smiling cheekily, “I just like having you here, sex or no sex.  C’mon, wouldn’t you love to wake up to this face every morning?”   

“I guess,” you answer non-committedly, trying not to let your mind even hope to dream of your life ever being so wonderful.  You need to get out of here, before he starts dangling more perfect happy-ever-afters in front of your face, lies that you know will never come true.  Finding your underwear you start to get dressed, avoiding the questioning look in Hobi’s eyes.

“I thought you didn’t have to work today?”

“Yeah…” You pull your sweater on, glad that it hides your face, even for just a second.  “But I’ve got a lot I need to get done so…”  

“I’d kind of… I mean I’d planned on us having the whole day together…” he says quietly, unable to hide the disappointment and confusion on his face.  “If I’d known you were gonna go so soon I wouldn’t have-”

“Don’t worry, Hobi, it was fun.” You slip your feet into your shoes, practically running to his bedroom door as soon as they’re on, forcing a false smile on your face.  “I had fun.”  Fun, that’s all it is… it’s all it was ever supposed to be.  You weren’t supposed to end up liking him, needing him, lovin- “Let me know next time you wanna hook up.”  

“Hook up,” he repeats, his voice breaking.  Hobi looks like you’ve just plunged a knife straight into his heart, and though it breaks your own to see him in so much pain, you know it’s for the best.  Better now, rather than later.  “Right… sure.”  

Originally posted by jhopetal

Namjoon

“So… what do you think?”  

What do you think?  You think the song you just heard was amazing; one of the best Namjoon’s ever written, and that’s saying a lot when he’s so ridiculously talented to begin with.  You’re stunned, dumbstruck by the fact he’d write such beautiful lyrics about you, for you, and if you were a better person you’d probably start to cry with joy that your boyfriend wants to tell the world just how much you mean to him.  

But you’re not a good person, not like him, not even close, so instead of telling Namjoon how proud you are of him, how much you’ve come to love him, you say anything you can think of to drive a wedge between you.

“I don’t think you should put it on the album,” you say blankly, trying to keep your face impassive as you look back into his hopeful eyes.  “I don’t think the executives would be happy with it.”  His face falls, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to fathom you’re unexpected response.  You see his jaw clench, and you know he’s trying so hard to brace himself for whatever constructive criticism he thinks is coming.  It’s taken a long time for him to learn to do that so graciously; yet another skill he’s mastered.

“You don’t like it?  I know the bridge needs some work, but I can fix-”

“The song’s fine, Joonie,” you interrupt, making him pause mid-swivel in his chair to turn back to you rather than his desk.  “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.  ARMY won’t like you shoving your love-life in their faces - they want you guys permanently single so they can keep all their little fantasies about you.” Namjoon seems stunned into silence for a moment, and honestly, you’re a little impressed at just how reasonable your argument sounds too.  Cold, yes, but logical.  Surely with his big brain Namjoon should be happy enough accept your reasoning and let it lie?  

He’s quiet for a long while, face pensive until he finally get up out of his chair and comes to sit beside you, taking your hand.

“I don’t care.  We’ve always been able to write write the music we want… how we want it.  And the fans want us to be happy.”  Well… how do you argue with that?  He sits stroking the back of your hand with his thumb while he waits for you to say something, and now your mind has gone blank, unable to think of anything to say that won’t just sound harsh or cruel.  

“You might be happy to tell the world about us, Joonie but… I’m not.”  Harsh it is then.  You take your hand back, clamping both of them between your legs as you look to the floor, avoiding the hurt in his eyes.  “We never said this was going to be anything serious.”

“I see.”  His voice is tight, controlled as he speaks, suddenly sitting up straighter. He waits for a second, perhaps to see if you’ll sat any more, take it all back, but when you don’t he simply returns to his desk, facing the screen like you’re not even there.  “You may as well go home… I’m gonna be up all night trying to re-write this.”  

Originally posted by chimchams

Jimin

Your phone goes off for what feels like the hundredth time today, an unpleasantly harsh trill that shrieks through your otherwise quiet apartment, and once again you have to fight the urge to look, to read the text you know is waiting for you there.  If you look you’re more likely to reply, and you’re trying so, so hard to give yourself some space, to put some distance between you and the man you’re getting far too close to.  

You know what it’ll say anyway, more or less.  It’ll be Jimin being his usual sweet self, asking if you’re ok, asking you to please, please get back to him.  Why aren’t you replying?  Are you sure you’re ok?  Do you need him to come over?  Why are you so quiet?  It’s killing you. Every time your phone goes off it feels like a punch to the gut, because you do so desperately want to reply.  But you can’t, you mustn’t.  You’ve gotten too attached to him, too attached to this perfect boy whom all the girls want to touch.

You’re not stupid.  You’ve seen his fan-pages, you’ve seen the things they say about him.  And it’s not like you can blame them, but you’re too insecure to deal with having a boyfriend who’s wanted by so many.  You’ve been cheated on once before, and it’ll only be a matter of time before Jimin realises he’s too good for you and does the same; finds another girl who’s prettier and thinner and more interesting than you.  It’s better for you to protect yourself now, to pull away while you still can, before it’s too late.  

So you ignore his messages even as tears roll down your cheeks, lying on the sofa and holding yourself, just waiting for it to stop hurting so much.  Time passes, although you don’t keep track of how much; all you know is that eventually it goes dark outside, and your tired eyes are just starting to droop when all of a sudden your doorbell rings, jolting you awake again.  

You shuffle your way over to the door, half-asleep and wrapped in your blanket, pulling it open before you think to look through the spy-hole to check who it is.  Of course it would be Jimin standing there to see you looking like this, like the mess that you are, his eyes widening as he takes in your bloodshot eyes.

“Oh baby… baby, what’s wrong?” He steps inside before you can stop him, wrapping you up in his arms over the top of your blanket, pulling your head into the crook of his neck.  

You don’t want this, or at least for second you try to tell yourself that you don’t… but it’s just no use.  Relenting, you let yourself be held by him, inhaling the scent of his aftershave that’s become synonymous with happiness and giving yourself over to it all, at least for now.  You let him kiss you with your face in his hands, let him promise you that he’ll make it all ok, and you let yourself believe in this lie, just for a little while longer.  

“You know I love you… Whatever it is, baby, we’ll fix it… I love you,” he tells you over and over, his face pressed into your hair and all you can do is cry because you know you love him too, and you know it’ll never be enough.  

Originally posted by sosjimin

Taehyung

“Tae, Tae, stop it!” you giggle, trying your best to throw him off whilst ensuring you’re clenching your pelvic floor as hard as you possibly can; he’s be tickling you for what feels like forever now, and you’ll be damned if you give him the satisfaction of peeing yourself for him to tease you about that too.  

“Not until you call me Oppa!” he shouts back, sat on your stomach, his bony fingers digging into your ribs as he grins down at you.  He’s such a masochist - you know he’s getting off on this really, watching you squirm and struggle.

“You’re like one month older than me, weirdo!”

“Op-pa!” he persists, accentuating every syllable, his eyes narrowing when you shake your head.  His fingertips start to creep towards your armpits, your weakest spot, and no matter how hard you try to push his hands away he’s just too strong.  You barely make it ten seconds before you’re shouting ‘oppa’ over and over again, tears streaming from your eyes, just wanting it to end.  Finally, he relents, sitting up with a satisfied smirk on his face.

That’s when you chose your moment to strike.  You reach out to twist his nipples through his shirt, grinning wickedly, but before you can do anything Taehyung’s grabbed both your wrists and pinning them above your head, growling like an animal.  A beat passes where you just look at each other, both out of breath, and then you’re laughing again, in hysterics as you so often are when you’re together, only stopping when Taehyung eagerly crashes his lips against yours.

You expect the kiss to become more passionate, if anything, so you’re surprised when it gets softer, Tae letting go of your wrists to stroke his hands gently through your hair and down onto your face.  When he pulls away, still rubbing his thumbs along your cheeks, there’s something shining in his eyes that you’ve never seen from him before, some emotion that until now has been unknown.  You know exactly what it is though, you know because it’s exactly the same thing you can feel swelling in your own chest.  

He opens his mouth to speak, and that’s when you panic.  You’re not ready to hear those words again, and you’re certainly not ready to say them again.  Not after last time, not after what happened when-

You sit up abruptly, pushing him off you and hurrying to stand, grabbing your jacket from the sofa to leave before Taehyung snatches it back from your hand after having stood up almost as quickly as you.  He look so confused, his mouth hanging open, head tilted to the side as he tries to make sense of your sudden and unexpected change in behaviour.

“What’s-”

“Just don’t say it, Tae,” you snap, snatching your jacket back but just holding it there by your side, fist clenched, “I don’t want to hear it, ok?  Don’t say it, because you can’t take it back.”  

“Jagiya…” he whispers softly, his eyes starting to mist over with moisture, chin practically trembling as you flinch away from the touch of his hand.  

“Just… just leave it, please?”  You sound like you’re begging, on the verge of tears now too, and before he can try to reach out to you again you run from his apartment, leaving Taehyung to dissolve into tears, wondering how on earth it all suddenly went so wrong.  

Originally posted by jjks

Jungkook

He’s been getting possessive lately - it’s all too obvious for anyone who looks to see.  Every time you hang out with the rest of the group he keeps getting all… handsy.  Not in an inappropriate way or anything, but any time you’re talking to another guy he’ll just casually wrap his arm around your waist or lay it across your shoulder, like he’s subtly marking his territory.

You’re sure other girls wouldn’t mind.  They’d probably love to have someone like Jungkook lay his claim on them, thrilled to be considered such a prize worth protecting, but when he does it to you all you can think about is your ex-boyfriend and how he used to be exactly the same. Jealous, possessive, irrational, constantly accusing you of cheating even though he was the one that was fucking your best friend behind your back.  Ex-best friend, should you say.  

There’s a lot of ex’s in your past, for one reason or another, and that’s why after a few dates you’re still resisting Jungkook’s attempts to make the two of you into something more.  You can do without another ex to add to your list, thank you very much, no matter how much you can feel him getting under your skin with each and every day that passes.  That’s just another reason why you want to keep him at arm’s length - you can’t afford to let yourself be vulnerable.  Not again.  You’re not letting anyone hurt you like that ever again.  

Jungkook seems to be feeling particularly threatened today, though you’re not entirely sure why.  Perhaps it’s because of the skirt you’re wearing, or maybe it’s the way Yoongi keeps looking at you from across the room, but either way it’s starting to get your back up.  He doesn’t own you, and it’s the desire to show Jungkook exactly that that eventually drives you across to the other side of the studio to sit down next to Yoongi, smiling like a cheshire cat.  

You can feel his eyes on you the moment you strike up a conversation, eyes that you pointedly ignore, choosing instead to act like everything Yoongi says is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.  You lean your body into his, leaning your head on his shoulder as you laugh, placing your hand on his thigh and leaving it to linger there far longer than necessary.  Yoongi’s loving every second of it, lapping it up until Jungkook finally snaps and comes striding over, trying to look casual and failing miserably at doing so.

“Namjoon wants you,” he tells Yoongi, not even looking at his elder as he says it.  No, his eyes are fixed on you, full of both anger and hurt, and the moment Yoongi gets up with a groan Jungkook is taking his spot, flopping down at your side.  You see him tick his head to the side, clenching his jaw in the silence that follows, and find yourself smiling before you can help it at his adorable habit.  

God damn it, you really need to put a stop to this now, before you get even more attached than you already are.  

“Why were you acting like that?” he asks after a moment, once he’s sure the rest of his friends are sufficiently preoccupied.

“Acting like what?” you reply, sounding as innocent as possible, and you know it’s pissing him off because his jaw clenches again, his hands balling into fists and relaxing again where they hang over his knees.

“Flirting with Yoongi like that.  You were all over him.”  

“So?” you blurt out, only realising after you’ve already said it just how cold and callous you sound.  Jungkook actually looks taken aback when you turn your head to the side to look at him, his usually soft, doe eyes widened in confusion, no anger left to see.  

“So…?” he repeats quietly.  You stare him out, trying not to flinch at the sharp feeling of guilt that stabs through you when he falters first, turning his head with a shake and looking to the ground, swallowing against the lump you can guess that’s forming in his throat.  “I thought…”

“We’ve been on like… what… four dates, Jungkook?”  You sound condescending and cruel, and you hate yourself for it.  What a heartless bitch those exs have turned you into, huh?  “You can’t tell me you thought it was serious?”  

Originally posted by jayfatuasian

Lifeline (2/?)

Jamie & Claire | AU | Claire doesn’t have a husband to return to. Jamie doesn’t have a price on his head. Seems like smooth sailing … right? (AO3)

I’d almost forgotten about this story … sorry !! But since there was no new episode yesterday, I decided to get my shit together and give you chapter two (yes, I know this is a poor substitute for THE reunion episode, but this is all I have!) Also thank you all so much for the lovely comments on chapter one!

Aaand a special shoutout to @bonnie-wee-swordsman who helped me with this chapter, she’s a lifesaver !! (or, at least a ficsaver) (It took some restraint though not to add “cue jaws theme” in the fic based on Bonnie’s comments …)

Also tagging @mibasiamille 😘

I. An Escape

II. The First Misstep

There can be danger in the lack of a purpose. When you no longer have something to give your life meaning, it’s awfully easy to throw caution to the wind and embark on a dangerous—and often foolish—journey.

Some people thrive in danger; they are hardwired to seek it out. For those people, the real danger is being idle, for boredom eats away at their very soul. They need a purpose like they need air to breathe, or food to eat.

Frank had said once he feared I loved my patients more than I loved him. He had said it half-jokingly, but he had been right.

I had always had a drive, though I had not always known towards what. But I kept moving forward, knowing I could never be content standing still. I had the tendency to seek out those dangerous environments other people would rather avoid, but I liked to think I didn’t have the fatal foolishness that some did. If I did, I would quite possibly find out soon.


On our way to Castle Leoch, Jamie regaled me with stories. He had told me about his uncles and Clan MacKenzie, after I’d shown quite a bit of enthusiasm for learning more about the place and its inhabitants. In truth, I had been to the castle once before—or would come there once more?—but at that time, it had been merely a ruin, inhabited by no one.

Foolish or not for putting myself in this situation, here I was, and I did think trying to learn something of the place to which I was headed was a good idea. Information would allow me to prepare, and preparation I definitely needed in order to lie effectively about my origin, for no one could know where I truly came from. Such was life for one with the misfortune of being cursed with a face of glass.

Jamie’s tales provided more than information, though. They were entertainment. He certainly had a gift for storytelling, and I enjoyed listening to him. Though his tales had initially unsettled me a bit, they were further confirmation that I truly was in the past—the eighteenth century—something I had realised when I happened upon Captain Randall, but still naïvely hoped to be a dream.

I hadn’t realised it then, but when Jamie asked me to come with him, I had made a decision to stay—for now, at least—in this time. There was little left for me where I came from, save that perilous boredom.

“I have to ask, Sassenach,” Jamie said, suddenly. “Why is it ye were lost in the forest in the first place? It seems unsafe for a lady such as yourself to travel alone, you could easily be—well, you know what could happen.”

I did. My unfortunate encounter with Captain Randall was not one I’d soon forget. It was only luck that had allowed me to get away unscathed. Luck in the form of a dashing rescuer, Jamie Fraser.

I tried to come up with a good explanation as to why I had wandered astray in the forest, but I had none. How could I tell him how I’d ended up here when I barely understood it myself?

I twirled the golden ring on my finger. I had told him I was widowed, mostly because I suspected the term divorced would be frowned upon, considering the times—even in my time, it wasn’t exactly something women would boast about.

I knew I had to tell Jamie something, even if I didn’t think he would force me to reveal something I didn’t wish to. He seemed to be a kind man, a gentle man, maybe even a loving man. He hadn’t talked extensively about his home, but he had mentioned a sister and of her, he’d talked very fondly. Family, it seemed, he valued greatly.

I took a deep breath.

“It’s a long story,” I began slowly, mentally berating myself for the, at best, clichéd opener; at worst, seeming attempt to stall or avoid answering altogether. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you why, but … I ran away.” That was partly true. With an ever-revealing face like mine, it was always better to stick closer to the truth than to outright lie.

That’s what I thought, at least, until Jamie, genuinely worried, said, “Are ye in danger? Are ye being chased by someone who wishes to do ye harm?”

His worry both warmed my heart and troubled me. Had he cared less, he would’ve asked fewer questions. It was unlikely that he’d be satisfied until he knew I wasn’t in any danger.

“No,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster, “I promise, no one’s looking for me.”

I couldn’t see his face as we were on horseback, him sitting behind me, but I could imagine the look of concern that refused to leave his face.

“Did you know him?” I asked, eager to change the subject. “Captain Randall, that is.” I had seen how he’d looked at the captain when they fought, something that suggested there was more to his fury than seeing a stranger about to take a woman by force.

“Aye. I ken him.”

I glanced back, startled by the brevity. His gaze was fixed somewhere far off, his posture stiff. Whatever he was looking at, I couldn’t say, but then I thought neither could he. He seemed lost in thought, reliving a memory.

I was undeniably curious and wanted to ask how their paths had crossed before, what Randall had done to make this man hate him so. I didn’t ask, though. Whatever it was, if Jamie’s expression was anything to go by, it was not a pleasant topic of conversation.

While I understood that he might not wish to speak of something that seemed to pain him, I found myself a bit surprised seeing as he’d been so unusually, yet pleasantly, forthcoming with information about himself during our ride.

He had told me a number of things about himself. He had told me that, not too long ago, he had been an outlaw, and only recently had he been pardoned.

He’d said the price on his head had prevented him from returning to Lallybroch, as his ancestral home was called, and that was why he stayed at Leoch. What he hadn’t told me was why he, now a free man, chose to remain there, instead of returning home.


When we arrived at the castle, a woman rushed out to greet—or rather, scold Jamie. She eyed Jamie with disapproval and me with suspicion.

“What do ye mean by disappearing like that, lad? Gone all night! People have been askin’ for ye, not to mention—”

“Mrs Fitz,” said Jamie, as he helped me dismount. “This is—”

“And what do we have here?” asked Mrs Fitz. She surveyed me from top to toe. Her eyes lingered on my once-white dress with particular curiosity and not a little disfavour.

“Claire Beauchamp,” said Jamie. “I brought her here for protection.”

“Is that so?” Her face softened, the initial suspicion towards me subsiding.

“Aye. Would ye make sure she has some proper clothes? I should speak to my uncle.”

“Aye, and then there are other people who’d like to speak to ye as well, as I’m sure ye ken. I wouldna advise ye to wait too long.”

“Wait!” As Jamie was about to walk away, I reached out a hand, putting it gently on his arm, prompting him to stay. “Your wound. Unless you want it to get infected, you should let me clean and dress it properly.”

Having earned Jamie’s trust in my medical abilities after helping him with his shoulder the day before, he agreed without objection.

Mrs Fitz kindly showed us to a room where I could tend to my patient. The room was dark and cold, and the many shelves that adorned the stone walls were crammed with jars that clearly hadn’t been touched in a while; they were covered with dust.

Upon entering, I had turned my questioning gaze to Mrs Fitz, who explained, “’Tis the surgery. It hasena been used in some time, no since Davie Beaton passed.”

The temperature problem was soon remedied by a fire, and Mrs Fitz left us alone.

I hadn’t been prepared for the sight of Jamie’s bare back when he removed his shirt so I could tend to his shoulder. Scars covered the expanse of his back.

“The Redcoats,” Jamie explained. “They flogged me twice in the space of a week. They’d have done it twice the same day, I expect, were they no afraid of killing me. There’s no joy in flogging a dead man.”

“I shouldn’t think anyone would do such a thing for joy.”

“If Randall was not precisely joyous, he was at least very pleased with himself.”

I understood, then. Or, at least I thought I did. His hatred towards Captain Randall, the painful memory he hadn’t wished to speak about. This was it.

Much to my surprise, Jamie did speak of it now though. His earlier reluctance to do so had apparently dissolved. I wondered why. Was it something I’d done to prove myself more trustworthy? Was it that I’d now seen the scars, so I might as well know the story behind them? Perhaps he worried I would misjudge him for his scars if I didn’t know the full story.

He recounted the event whilst I dressed his wound. This was a far less cheerful tale than those he had shared with me on horseback, but his storytelling was vivid as ever.

I met his eyes, trying to show him the same sympathy and understanding he had shown me the day before. Since the moment we met, Jamie had been nothing but kind to me. He had shown more compassion than any man I’d ever met.

I stroked his arm to comfort him, and his lips curved upwards in reply. He looked younger when he smiled; there was something boyish about it. I realised that he must, in fact, be younger. That thought hadn’t occurred to me when he’d acted as my rescuer and protector. While I appreciated his heroic side, what drew me in was the vulnerability he had shown me, sharing his scars.

Hand still lingering on his arm, I leaned in slowly, my eyes not leaving his. I could feel his breath hot against my lips. An inch, and I would touch his lips—

He pulled back.

I didn’t quite know what to feel. Confusion hit me first, followed by shock that was soon replaced by embarrassment.

My eyes sought his, to ask for an explanation, or see if I had misinterpreted the situation, but he turned his head away, hiding his expression.

Mrs Fitz could not have returned at a better time. She helped me escape, as she was to fulfil Jamie’s request that I be given proper attire.

Before our departure she reminded Jamie once more to seek out his uncle Colum.

I followed her to a guest bedroom where she helped me change into a more appropriate dress, and sometime thereafter came a dark-haired man by the name of Murtagh to inform me that The MacKenzie wished to speak to me.

Mrs Fitz gave me an encouraging smile before I departed.

My escort, by contrast, didn’t speak another word to me, let alone smile.

Jamie had told me about Colum MacKenzie, Chief of Clan MacKenzie, but not in great detail. He had had more to say about his other uncle, Dougal, the war chief. Despite our awkward encounter, I found myself wishing Jamie was there by my side as I entered the tower room where the MacKenzie was waiting.


My silent escort was still waiting for me when I exited, but he wasn’t alone. Jamie was with him.

I couldn’t help but smile in relief at the sight.

“What did he say?” Jamie asked at once, excitement in his tone.

“You ask as though you don’t already know! You talked to him about me,” I said, crossing my arms, “you told him I was a healer.”

“Aye, I had to say something so he’d let ye stay, didn’t I? He was verra suspicious at first when I said I’d brought a Sassenach here.”

“I’d say he was still verra suspicious when we spoke,” I said in a poor imitation of his accent. Colum had been suspicious, but he had let me stay nonetheless, thanks to Jamie. He had gifted me the late Davie Beaton’s surgery, in return for my serving as the castle’s new healer, for the duration of my visit.

“He did invite me to the hall tonight, though,” I continued, “there is to be a Welsh singer apparently—”

“JAMIE FRASER!” The voice came from somewhere farther down the stairs. Rapid footsteps that likely belonged to the voice echoed loudly as they neared.

Jamie, having tensed up at the high-pitched shriek, looked over at Murtagh, wordlessly asking for counsel.

Murtagh raised his eyebrows so as to say, “What did I tell you?” making me wonder just what Murtagh had told Jamie and why.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and facing us was now a young, round-faced girl with her arms crossed over her chest. Her pale eyes narrowed as they noticed me.

“Jamie Fraser!” she repeated. It was less of a shriek this time, but no less angry. “Where have ye been!?”

Jamie opened his mouth to explain, but the girl cut him off.

“And who is that!?” Her voice was venomous as she jerked her head rudely at me.

“Ah … this is Claire Beauchamp,” he said, “she’s a guest of the MacKenzie and the new healer of the castle.” Evidently explaining me was easier than explaining his whereabouts since yesterday afternoon.

The girl was still waiting for further explanation. Jamie sighed and said, “I was out riding.”

“RIDING!? Ye mean to say ye’ve been out riding all night?”

“Laoghaire, perhaps we can have this conversation in private?”

The girl—Laoghaire—muttered something, then turned and started walking down the stairs, Jamie following her.

“Who was that?” I asked Murtagh after they had left.

“That was his wife.”

anonymous asked:

Prinxiety and number 4 thanks

4. “Just pretend to be my date, okay?”

Virgil jumped, nearly spilling his drink, when Roman suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. “What the shit, Roman?!”

“You have to help me, Virge!!! It’s an emergency!!!” Virgil’s glare softened as he took in Roman’s panicked expression.

“What’s going on?”

“Mindi, that’s what’s going on!!! She’s drunk as hell and she’s tried to grope me three times already. I keep telling her I’m gay, but that doesn’t seem to be working. Just pretend to be my date, okay?!”

“Oh my god, are you serious?”

“YES!!! I will do the dishes for you for a MONTH, just….please?!” As Roman pleaded, Virgil spied the small blonde in question, drunkenly weaving into the room. When her eyes lighted on Roman, he could almost see the predatory instinct kick in. Holy crap!

“No problem, Roman. I got this.” With that, Virgil grabbed him and pulled him close, tucking the drama queen casually under his arm. Oooh, bimbo’s eyes were flaring now. Seems she didn’t like competition.

“Who the fuck is this, Ro?” Virgil gave her a slow once-over with as much distaste as he could manage.

“His boyfriend, because he’s gay. Why, who the fuck are you?”

“Y…you’re gay?!” the blonde slurred, seemingly shocked. 

“Extremely fucking gay. We both are. Sorry, honey.” Virgil smirked at her, sipping from his drink. 

“Bullshit! There’s no w–” Before she could finish the sentence, Virgil grabbed Roman and pulled him into a dramatic kiss, dipping him a little for extra effect. Somewhere along the line, Roman reciprocated and it stopped being a kiss for show and started being something else entirely.

“Ugh!” Mindi skulked off, clearly giving Roman up as a lost cause. Neither man missed her.      

a bedtime story

“Shush shush now, I’m trying to tell a story.”

Emma squirms, her body shaking as she laughs happily from the very pit of her belly. 

Killian rests his warm hand against the exposed skin of her middle. There’s only the slightest curve there, a brand new exciting development in the growth of their child.

Killian’s hair brushes against her cheek as he leans in close and he strokes the bump affectionately.

Her heart swells with adoration. Seeing how excited he is about the baby brings her more joy on a daily basis than anything. It’s nearly heartwarming enough for her to forgive the other less desirable changes her body’s gone through thus far in the pregnancy.

Keep reading

reason to stay - part two

a/n: after a very long time I finally wrote part two of ‘reason to stay’. I’m sure you’ve all forgotten about this, but enjoy!

– word count: 1,591

– warnings: none!

part one

“What?” The words left Shawn’s lips before he had even fully processed what you just told him.

“I’m pregnant.” You say again, waiting for any signs of any emotion from Shawn.

He stares at you, the tears finally spilling down his cheeks, “Really?”

You nod, stepping closer to him. The bags fall from his hands and he drops to his knees, resting his hands on your hips. He rests his forehead against your stomach, taking deep breaths. You run your fingers through his hair, your tears falling harder than before.

After a couple of minutes you get down on your knees in front of Shawn, taking his face in your hands. He moves your hands away and buries his face in the crook of your neck, tears still wetting his cheeks. You grab his face again gently and make him look at you, wiping his tears with your thumbs.

“Shawn. Shawn, look at me…” you say softly.

He slowly looks at you, his eyes red.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He says quietly.

“No, no, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ve been expecting too much from you. Besides, I threw a plate at you.” You whisper, kissing his forehead with a small laugh.

He chuckles, shaking his head, “(Y/n), you expected everything you should’ve from me, I just didn’t meet those expectations like I should have. I deserved to have a plate thrown at me and you didn’t hit me so it doesn’t count.”

“There’s no winning this is there?” You ask with a small smile, gently running your thumbs over Shawn’s cheeks.

“No way.” He shakes his head.

You kiss him quickly, looking directly into his eyes, “Shawn, we need to have a serious talk though.”

He nods, standing up and pulling you up with him. He leads you to the couch, turning to face you. You sit on the couch criss-cross, facing Shawn.

“Did you mean it?” You ask, looking down at your hands.

“Mean what?” He asks, gently making you look at him.

“You said you ‘guess we just fell out of love’. Did you mean it? Do you really not love me anymore?”

Shawn’s expression softens as he looks you in the eyes.

“Of course I still love you, (Y/n).”

“Then why did you say it? I mean you were about to walk out.”

He stares at you, “I don’t know. It was heat of the moment. I was so sure you didn’t love me and wanted me to leave. I really wanted you to say something, anything to make me stay. You really outdid yourself here.”

You laugh softly and take his hands in yours, “I mean, I had a nice way to tell you all planned out, but obviously that didn’t work.”

“Obviously.” He grins.

You sigh and run your fingers through your hair. You were suddenly exhausted and just wanted to relax.

“What’s wrong?” Shawn asks, cupping your face in his hands.

“Just ready to relax.”

“I’ll run you a bath.”

Before you can say anything Shawn is already up and in the bathroom. You walk into the bathroom to see Shawn leaning next to the tub, running the water over his hand to make sure it’s not too hot. He knows exactly how warm you like the water. When Shawn notices you he stands up and helps you get undressed, his fingers grazing over your stomach. Shawn leans over and grabs a hair-tie, putting your hair up for you before getting undressed himself. Shawn steps into the tub, sitting down and getting situated before you slide in and lean against his chest.

“I’m really sorry about how everything went down earlier and for what I said.” He says, gently running his fingers up and down your thighs.

“So am I.”  You lean your head back against Shawn’s shoulder.

Shawn wraps his arms around your torso, leaving a trail of kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. You close your eyes, sighing contently. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a final kiss on the soft skin against his lips.

“I really do love you.” He whispers.

“I love you too.” You smile.


“What would you name them?” You ask Shawn after a while.

He takes a minute to think, “If they’re a girl, I think Melody would be pretty. For a boy, Jonathan.”

“I really like those.”

“What about middle names? Melody Grace? Jonathan Michael?” Shawn shrugs.

“Shawn, how long have you been thinking of names for our children?”

“Longer than you think.” He chuckles.

“Good. Now we don’t have to worry about having to think of a name later on.”

“Well, we still have to think of a name.”

“No, I like those names. Melody Grace Mendes. Jonathan Michael Mendes. They both have a pretty nice ring to them, eh?”

“I guess they do.” He holds you closer to him, a smile on his face.

“I bet the little one is gonna have your mop of curls.” You grin, thinking about what the baby could look like.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I hope they have your eyes and nose too. Oh, and musical talent.” You play around with Shawn’s fingers.

“I hope they get everything else from you though.”

“Yeah, really. Don’t want then to end up with your giant hands.” You joke.

“Wow. I see how it is.”

“Aaliyah is gonna love the hell out of this kid.”

“Boy, is that right.”

“Speaking of Aaliyah, when are we gonna tell our families? And how?”

“We can tell them this weekend. Liyah will be home and she said she wants to see us. As for how, I don’t know.” He leaves a kiss behind your ear.

“We’ve got a few days to come up with something.


The day has come where you tell Shawn’s family you’re pregnant. You walk into the house, Aaliyah practically tackling you and Shawn in a hug. You wrap your arms around her and squeeze her tight.

"Missed you kid.” You say as you step back.

“Missed you too.” She smiles.

You hand her an envelope that has her name neatly written on it and she flips it over, about to open it.

“Hold on,” You stop her, “Wait for your parents.”

She stops, but nods, looking at Shawn.

“So, no 'I missed you more than anything. You’re the most amazing sister and I can’t believe I go so long at a time without seeing you’?”

Shawn laughs and pulls her into another hug, kissing the top of her head, “I missed you, Liyah.”

“I missed you too, Shawn.” She grins.

“Where are mom and dad?” Shawn asks, looking around.

“Out back.”

You walk out back and hand them each their own envelope.

“Don’t open them yet. I want you and Aaliyah to open them at the same time.”

“Did you do that thing where you randomly get us all the same gift again?” Manny asks, looking at you.

“Maybe.” You reply before walking back inside.


Everyone is sitting together in the living room, Manny, Karen, and Aaliyah opening their envelopes. They open the cards inside and read what you’ve written before looking up at you.

“Are you serious?” Aaliyah asks before anyone else can.

“Yeah.” You and Shawn both nod.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” She jumps up hugging you, followed my Manny and Karen before they move to hug Shawn.

“Congrats you guys!” Karen says, a huge smile on her face.

You and Shawn both thank her before turning to Aaliyah.

“Liyah. Listen here young lady. You can’t tell anyone about this yet because not everyone knows and we want to wait a while before telling the public.” You say.

She nods, “Okay. Secret is safe with me.”

Aaliyah looks down at the card still in her hands, “What did your cards say? Mine said: I can’t wait for you to play hockey with me. We’ll have a lot of fun when I’m beating you on the ice. I already know we’ll be best friends. Can’t wait to meet you, Auntie Liyah. Love, baby Mendes.”

We’ll have the best of times hanging out together. You can teach me how to perfectly decorate for every occasion. Can’t wait to meet you, Grandma. Love, baby Mendes.” Karen reads.

Manny looks at his and reads it out loud, “We’re going to have a blast when I get there. You’ll spoil me and sneak behind mom and dad’s backs sometimes. I’ll have you wrapped around my little finger. Can’t wait to meet you, Grandpa. Love, baby Mendes.

You look at Shawn and hand him an envelope, “Baby Mendes has a note for you too.”

Shawn opens the envelope and reads it so everyone can hear, “I can’t wait for you to teach me how to play guitar and I can’t wait for you to sing me to sleep. I can’t wait for you to hold me until I fall back asleep after a bad dream. I can’t wait for you to teach me how to love with every part of me and for you to show me how to be respectful and kind to everyone no matter what. I can’t wait for you to write a song that will be our song. I know you’ll love me forever no matter what. Can’t wait to meet you, Daddy. Love, you baby.

Shawn pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head when he finishes reading it.

“I love you.” He whispers into your hair.

“I love you too.”

He pulls back and gives you a kiss before wiping the tears from his eyes.

You knew Shawn was going to be the best dad to your child and you couldn’t wait for all the moments to come of your little family.

[Voltron]: homecoming

Title: homecoming

Read it on [AO3]
Words: 2,608
Pairing: Sheith
Summary:
The mission is more important than the individual.

But not Shiro. Never Shiro.

Oh man. So I wrote this fic as a way to help process my feelings about S4 because I just can’t get over the fact that every time Keith realizes Shiro (and the team, but mostly Shiro) is in trouble, he drops everything at once to rush in and save him, every single season. It’s just so touching, no matter what you see their relationship as, and I’m just so emo from the S4 finale and what that instinct of Keith’s led into.

So here’s a little thing, also inspired by my friend @breeeliss’s tumblr post here where Shiro and Keith webcam and catch up while they’re apart. Hope y'all enjoy!

special thanks to @ashinan @keith-shiro and @kcgane :D

Also on AO3.


They’re letting him go. Keith knows it’s for the best.

But just know that we’re here for you whenever you need us.

He pulls away from the hug, content with the way their differences worked themselves out. They want the best for him and he couldn’t be more thankful.

As he heads towards the exit, he looks back at them. Hunk, Coran, and Pidge are tearful but accepting. Shiro, Allura, and Lance are full of hope. They’re all smiling at him with pride in their eyes, the kind of pride one would expect from family, the kind Keith’s never experienced before meeting Shiro.

His eyes make a final sweep over his team and linger on Shiro. The understanding in his expression is the same one Keith fell for all those years ago: the silent gaze that’s always made Keith feel known. Seeing it now, Keith knows with certainty that Shiro has never needed any further explanations. And after everything he’s gone through to get Shiro back, it’s now Keith’s turn to leave.

I know you are. And I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

He’s glad for it. The Blade is important to him — it’s where he’s meant to be. Just like Shiro was meant to be in the Black Lion. To be a leader.

They will accept this. They have to.

And even if they don’t, Keith doesn’t plan on giving them a choice.

So with a smile and one last look, he departs from his newfound home in pursuit of another.

Keep reading

We’ll Figure This Out Together -- Jason Todd x Reader

 And here’s part four!

I know I said I wouldn’t be posting on a regular basis, but I went ahead and finished writing and editing this last night. I couldn’t help it, I finished part three and just wanted to go ahead and write the next part. Also, I wanted some fluff in my life so I wrote some.

Now here’s the dealio, I can end this story here with it a bit open ended. Or, I can keep it going. I want to hear what y’all think before I decide whether to write more of it or not.

Anywho! Enjoy my loves!!

Tagging @lovingmytelevision, @posiey, @miraisnotavailable, @soepicsokim, @epickimmie, @themortallife

WARNING! Fluff ahead. Fluff and cuteness ahead. Prepare your heart dears!

Part One   Part Two   Part Three

Word Count: 1093

You tapped your foot impatiently as you cast your (E/C) eyes to the door once more.

You and Jason had agreed to talk things through that evening and to be honest, you were terrified. It was only a few hours ago that you had realized your feelings for the vigilante, albeit begrudgingly. Thanks to the support of Roy, you had finally worked up the courage to contact your soulmate. The conversation had gone about as well as you’d expected, what with his sarcastic remarks and sharp tongue. If not for his brothers’ interference, you’d have probably hung up on Jason and forgotten about the whole thing.

Without thinking, you sipped your glass of sweet tea.

“I still don’t see the appeal of sweet tea.”

You choked on your drink. Turning, you glared at the man behind you. Jason’s blue eyes glimmered with amusement at your reaction. You felt your glare soften at the sight of him. It wasn’t too obvious, but you could tell that the dark-haired man was just as nervous as you.

You gestured for Jason to take the seat across from you.

“So, uh…” Jason trailed off as he situated himself in his seat. He coughed awkwardly and looked anywhere but in your eyes. “What exactly did you want to discuss?”

“I’m pretty sure you know already.”

“You want to discuss this soulmate thing.”

“Yeah, that thing.”

The two of you fell silent, an awkward air between you. You nervously pushed some of your (H/C) hair behind your ear. Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat once more. You two glanced at each other then quickly looked away.

This was getting you no where.

“So…about us?”

“Right!” You squeaked, a little too loudly. You noticed Jason winced at your tone. You cleared your throat before continuing. “Us. Well, we are soulmates, so we need to figure out this…whatever this is.”

The vigilante nodded. “We need to decide if we want to try and be a…couple.”

A bright blush flooded across your cheeks at that word.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of you two as a couple. After realizing your feelings, you had spent the past few hours thinking over the different scenarios of how this evening would end. You two could decide to not pursue a romantic relationship. There were cases of soulmates who were simply close friends and never had any feelings other than platonic love for one another. You two could decide to ignore each other and forget everything that had happened. Some soulmates liked to live in denial for the rest of their lives. You two could decide to try and see how a romantic relationship would go for you two.

You just had to ask what Jason thought on the matter.

“W-What do you think of us as a couple?”

Jason pondered your question. He cast his blue eyes to the side as he thought through his response. The vigilante turned his burning gaze back to you. Your heart fluttered at the intense gaze he was giving you.

“I want to give us a chance.” He whispered, almost scared of saying these words aloud. “I want this to work, but I don’t want to do this if you aren’t going to give me a chance. I’m more than the man you think I am. I know you hate me-!”

You chuckled softly. “That’s the thing, I don’t hate you. I don’t think I’ve ever actually hated you.”

You two stared at each other before bursting into laughter. You liked the way Jason’s face looked when he laughed. He looked…younger. More carefree. Less like a man that had seen the worst of the world and more like the man who had just found the one person he was meant to be with.

That’s when you knew for sure that you loved this annoying, gorgeous skunk head.

The two of you talked for several more hours, discussing exactly what each of you wanted out of the relationship. You knew about his “nightly” activities, so you both knew that there were going to be missed dates, forgotten anniversaries, and other things to come. You’d both seen what superhero life could do to a relationship, but you weren’t afraid. You were more than willing to work through these problems as they arise.

The staff had to kick you out of the restaurant so they could close for the night. Your hand was clasped gently in Jason’s as you two walked to your apartment. The conversation jumped from topic to topic, just the two of you enjoying the sound of each other’s voice.

“Thanks for walking me home.” You smiled shyly at your soulmate. “You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

Jason gave you a crooked grin. “Of course I did. Gotham isn’t exactly a safe place for anybody.”

“So, when can I see you again?”

“Soon, I hope.” He replied. Jason squeezed your hand comfortingly. “I can’t make any promises though. You know how unpredictable hero life is.”

“I know, but that doesn’t matter. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

“Together…I like the sound of that.”

Jason glanced down at your lips. You felt yourself blush again as he leaned down closer to your face. Your heartbeat increased as his lips inched closer and closer to yours. Just as his lips were about to make contact with yours, his phone began to ring.

“God damn it!” He growled, thoroughly pissed. Jason pulled away and dug in his jacket pocket to fish out the device. “This better be good Dick, or so help me Kori will have to find a new soulmate!”

You giggled softly at his words. Jason sent you a quick wink before focusing in on what his brother was saying. His playful expression soon morphed into a serious one. He mumbled his acknowledgement to Dick’s words. Hanging up the phone, he slid it back into his pocket and dragged a hand down his face. You smiled ruefully at him.

“Duty calls?”

“And just as things were about to get good!” Jason laughed at the punch you gave his arm. He gave you a bashful smile. “I’m sorry (Y/N). I’d love to spend more time with you, but…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I understand. Just…don’t do anything stupid.”

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.” Jason leaned in and placed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

You smiled back at him. “Go get ‘em skunk head.”

“Stay safe hill billy.”

anonymous asked:

19 woth Logicality

AAAYYYYY, guess who forgot she queued a prompt list? THIS GIRL!!! But that’s okay. Let’s do this!

19. “You’re still giving me the silent treatment?”

“Patton? ….Come on, Patton, please?” Logan huffed when his counterpart maintained absolute silence, glaring resolutely ahead. 

“You’re still giving me the silent treatment?” Patton didn’t speak, but he gave him a glare that would have destroyed a lesser man. 

“I’ll take that as a yes. Patton, you KNOW I had to step in! Please? I love you so much, Pat, but I just couldn’t give in on this one.” Patton huffed, his arms folded, his glare softening into more of a pout. He knew Logan loved him, and usually found ways to compromise or give him his way, but the logical side had held firm today and he just couldn’t let it go.

“Patton, darling, I love you with all of my heart, but it simply is NOT PRACTICAL to adopt thirty dogs!” Logan threw up his hands in frustration.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?!?” 

“Oh my–here we go again! No, Pat, don’t leave!”

*door slam*

“…..You know you’re going to end up letting Thomas adopt at least two, right?” Virgil’s quiet, amused voice sounded behind him.

“Yeah, Virgil…I know.” Logan replied, sighing before heading to his boyfriend’s room.

anonymous asked:

How would the main 4 + toriel and asgore react if their s/o made them a song about how much they mean to them and sang it for them with their talented voice?

Sans:

He just listens, hands in his pockets & eyes closed. That’s sweet of ya, babe. You’re a real songbird, he feels like a lucky skele-tune. You can’t help but notice that his grin looks a little more genuine at the edges after that.

Papyrus:

He’s extremely excited, & curls up in the nearest chair to listen, an open-mouthed smile on his face the entire time. Eventually he starts swaying back & forth during the song, eyes closed & an almost peaceful expression on his face. At the end he stands up & applauds you, a little teary-eyed. Encore! Encore!!

Undyne:

She starts off just listening to you, smirking & bobbing along. Once she gets into it, she runs off to jump on her piano, banging the keys alongside you. It sounds pretty damn dope.

Alphys:

At first she just watches you with the biggest, dorkiest grin on her face. Soon enough, though, she’s frantically flipping out her phone to record you, acting starstruck through the whole thing. There’s no way she’s letting this opportunity slip by!!

Bonus-Toriel:

She’s so flustered. You’re spoiling her, dear, she’s just a little old lady. Nothing nearly that special. But it doesn’t stop her from listening to you in contentment, hands folded over her lap. You’d never know how flattered she truly was, if it wasn’t for the bright blush pooling at the edges of her ears & the bridge of her nose.

Bonus-Asgore:

His eyes are sparkling the entire time. He watches you sing with a bright smile, though his expression eventually softens. You haven’t even finished singing yet when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his arms. He’s not worthy of such praise but–thank you. Thank you so much.

2

Whenever the other wears the other’s color, they love each other a little bit more.

My headcanon is Katara as a Fire Lady only wears her husband’s colors during important/formal events (and Zuko respects her choice) as well as Zuko humbling himself with not wearing his crown and only wearing Southern Water tribe clothing during their visits in the south. Her betrothal necklace is carved from gold and bronze (cause zuko’s a doting lover) with the shape of the flower Milk Vetch cause I love its meaning

Brand new talking time with foreign swaggers Jaehyun, Mark and Johnny