#have some random fluff

[bunnimew]

Blackice Headcanons

Pitch isn’t too proud to be the little spoon for Jack. Jack is the perfect temperature for maximum snuggling. Jack loves being able to wrap himself around Pitch and play with his hair that feels like feathers. He’ll pet it and trail fingertips down the back of Pitch’s neck, but also won’t hesitate to make his hair stick up funny or attempt to braid it. Or ruffle it which Pitch only pretends to be offended by. ;)

[cracked-kyber-crystal]

“Yeah, I braided her hair... Why? Did you want me to do yours?”

[some-mad-lunge]

Robert Behind The Bar

I have had about 37 requests over the last while to write something about Robert behind the bar. So I finally wrote something...sorry anons, but at least it’s here now? I love you all (except that one anon, you know what you did)

Aaron was late, so late he knew he was gonna get more than a eye roll from his husband. He’d gotten stuck on a supplier call, his cell phone in his car and unable to text Robert he was running behind. He was prepared for the cold shoulder when he pushed through the doors of the Woolpack. What he got was a whole other story.

Robert was behind the bar, his jumper pushed up on his arms. Aaron could see him flexing as he leaned forward, hands braced as he chatted to Ryan who was sipping a pint. Robert was laughing, towel slung over his shoulder and looking as comfortable as can be.

He remembered that spark in Robert’s eyes that week, when they’d played make believe, both never imagining they’d get there in the end. Both men too wrapped up in each other to bother going into town for more beer. Instead Robert had gotten behind the bar at Home Farm, pulling out bottles and a silver shaker.

Robert had made him colourful drinks with ridiculous names, all the while telling Aaron stories of his first job when he left Emmerdale, a busboy at a club. He’d eventually worked his way to bartender, flirting with the patrons and biding his time.

Aaron has never acquired much of a taste for many mixed drinks but he wasn’t against a glass of wine or champagne now and then. Especially if he was licking it off Robert’s skin. It reminded Aaron of their honeymoon, days of nothing but sun, bubbles and Robert.

Aaron was jostled out of his thought by Faith and Eric entering behind him, his Nan giving him a look before spotting Robert behind the bar and clapping her hands

“Hiya Luv, finally earning your keep?”

She always cackled in the way that made Aaron tend to wince. Robert looked up, caught his husband’s eye and sent him a quick wink.

“Something kicked off with Charity, she asked me to watch the bar for a minute. That was over an hour ago.”

Aaron sat down across from the blond of his dreams, shook his head.

“Rob, you don’t have to do that.”

Aaron got only a shrug in response, as Robert grabbed a bottle of red and started to pour Faith a glass.

“Now, let’s not be hasty boys. Could make yourself a nice living one day running this place.”

His Nan was enjoying this too much. Then again Aaron had thought about it before, one day taking over the pub, him and Robert pouring pints in when they are too old for scrap metal and long haul drives. He’d never mentioned it to his husband, knew his dreams were much more grand than that. Or they used to be anyway.

He broke from his thoughts when Robert placed a pint in front of him, crossed his arms and leaned back with a smug face.

“Too much foam.”

Robert raised his eyebrow in response, because it was a lie and they both knew it.

“Look, sorry I’m late. Got caught on a call.” He kept his voice sweet and apologetic. Robert just smiled at him, rubbed their hands together briefly before Tracey caught his eye and he went to help her.

It was weird how comfortable Robert seemed, pouring and chatting to everyone who needed something. Even more bizarre when he emerged from the back, plates balanced on his arms before he placed them in front of two patrons Aaron didn’t recognize. His husband said something to make the couple laugh, and then he was back to Aaron again.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” The words were out of Aaron’s mouth before he could stop them. Robert was damn good at anything he put his mind to but he was amazing with people. A natural charmer, easy with a smile and a wink. Aaron has long gotten past being jealous, now he was just enthralled.

“Other than get my husband to show up on time, no I’ve got everything else pretty much sorted.”

Aaron let him have that one, mostly because he was still admiring the way Robert leaned across from him, all broad shouldered and tanned arms, relaxed with a slight hint of superiority. It’s what made him tumble into love to begin with. It was a never ending freefall now, he was used to it.

Aaron spent the next hour getting snippets of Robert’s attention, but mostly watching his husband as he fluttered about. Eventually Charity barged back in, acting like she’d done Robert the favour instead of the other way around. Neither of them asked what the trouble had been, they didn’t want to know.

It wasn’t until later, Aaron slipping into bed as Robert plugged in his phone that he dare broach the subject.

“Would you want to do that one day? Take over the pub?”

“Absolutely.”

Aaron blinked at Robert’s words, “Really?”

“I mean, if you wanted to of course.” Robert kicked his feet out, always cold against Aaron’s, dipped a hand under the hem of Aaron’s shirt and rubbed against skin.

“I think I would, but we’d have to buy out Charity. I don’t know how Mum handles her.”

Robert chuckled, placed a kiss to Aaron’s cheek. “And not until all the kids are old enough to drink. I don’t want to spend my days keeping teenage hands out of the stock.”

“All the kids, huh?”

“What, you telling me you didn’t nick booze at every opportunity. I doubt any of them will be any better.”

“Hmmm….”

Aaron had long gotten over the surprise when they talked like this, about their future, their kids, making plans they actually brought to fruition. Now it was just another part of being settled that made everything that came before worth it. Clearly they’d have to have a real discussion about it, one day, but for now it was a nice thought.

“Speaking of nicking, I might have swiped a bottle of champagne for us before Charity got back. I’m sure we can convince Liv to make herself scarce tomorrow night.”

Aaron nuzzled his face into Robert’s neck and smiled, as far as planning for the future that would do, for now.

[finding-milah]

@enchantedrapscallion (who yelled at me for giving them dead milah.)

“Stop that!”

The hammock swayed lightly in the breeze, thick wool blanket tossed over them and if you listened you could hear the shouts of the crew below deck. But this was their time. Mostly alone save for the man at the helm and Killian and Milah tucked away in their own little private sanctuary under the stars. An almost nightly routine when the conditions were right and the skies were clear. Many a nights spent with him murmuring the names of stars into her ear while one hand got a little frisky and the other held her close. Trying her best to be quiet and keep their intimacies... private to say the least. Boyish and playful that was her Killian.

The same man that had taught her how to wield a blade and tie knots. The same man that told her stories in a tavern, what seemed near a century ago. And perhaps it was; she found time seemed to stand still upon the deck of The Jolly Roger. The magic of the ship itself was something to behold, with Killian at the helm it was mesmerizing to say the least.

Milah swatted his hand away-- slowly creeping up her skirts (the rare occasion she decided to wear one) and tickling with roughened finger tips. The way his laugh was a low rumble in her ear and she squirmed and damn near flipped them both out of the bloody thing.

“What shall your crew think, hm? Should they come up here and find us both sprawled out in a state of undress.” She knew that he didn’t very well care and honestly it only added fuel to her fire. Turning to face him, she pressed lips to his. Sweet and slow, same as the pace they were currently keeping on the sea. Wistfully drifting towards a new destination that they would discover together.

“Actually, the crew can piss off for all I care,” she murmured, hand slipping onto his hair and a leg hitched around his hip. “It’s the unsteadiness of this hammock that is currently worrying me.”

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Daylight had never looked so good, even if it was only revealing carnage and disaster from the chaotic reign of Jerome. There was still a new day, Jerome hadn’t captivated the city, and the madness and debris was being swept away even as he and Harvey sat down to breakfast.

“What a night,” Harvey groaned next to him, grabbing the first cup of coffee in sight and drowning himself in it. “Let’s hope we don’t have many more like it any time soon.”

“Unless Hugo Strange has a brother working in Blackgate, hopefully we won’t have to worry about Jerome for some time,” Jim sighed, handing his menu back to the waitress with a tired smile. He didn’t even bother to entertain the idea that Jerome wouldn’t get out again, it seemed inevitable with some criminals in this city. But he held onto the hope that he might be more rested when Jerome went on his next spree.

“Here’s to that,” Harvey grinned, knocking glasses with him for a toast.

Jim let the sunlight at his back fill him as they waited in measured silence for their breakfasts to come. He let his eyes close, focusing on the warmth spreading across his leather coat, and from there into his skin, and muscles, and bones, so deep and cold he couldn’t remember when they’d last relaxed.

A gentle hand pushed a strand of hair away out of his eyes. Jim flicked an eye open to look at Harvey’s hand retreating. “Why don’t you take the day off? You look beat,” Harvey suggested, eyeing Jim up and down.

“You’ve been up as long as me, are you taking the day off?” Jim grumbled, rolling his head back, “Just get some food into me, I’ll be fine.”

“As a matter of fact I was contemplating it,” Harvey corrected, pouting at him, “I’d recommend we all take a half day but I don’t trust Gotham not to form a new bomb-worshipping cult in the meanwhile if we do.”

Jim snorted; he was probably right. His eyes struggled to open and focus again, maybe he should…

“I’m just saying, you should really get some sleep,” Harvey hinted, less than subtly.

Jim attempted to look as resigned as possible without opening his eyes. “You call it off, I’ll come with you, deal?”

“Of course, partner.” Came Harvey’s prompt reply and Jim could even hear the smile in his voice. His lips twitched but he refused to smile back, swallowing the urge.

At last their plates came, eggs and bacon and toast for Jim, pancakes and sausage with extra syrup for Harvey. Warmth settled on them again under the quiet scratching and clanking of knives and forks.

Between bites of scrambled egg and toast, feeling more awake again, Jim’s thoughts turned to Lee. If there was maybe even a chance she could…

“Don’t go down that rabbit hole,” Harvey interjected.

With effort, Jim blinked and turned to him, “What?”

“Don’t,” Harvey cautioned, sipping his coffee, “You been there once, going back will only cause you pain and misery. Don’t torture yourself with what might have been.”

Jim’s eyebrows pinched, consternated, but not surprised. “How did you kn-”

“I didn’t meet you yesterday, that’s how,” Harvey sighed, setting down his coffee and digging back into his pancakes, “what, you think I don’t know the faces of Jim Gordon? Two hideous break ups, a weird almost friendship, several death-defying leaps of faith later and you really think I don’t know what you’re thinking half the time?”

This time, Jim couldn’t resist smiling. He felt his cheeks stretch, pulling back wide in a smile he ought to have been too tired to do. He didn’t know how Harvey made him feel like smiling, but he did. Jim watched, taking the time to really observe his sly, brilliant, self-degrading partner. He watched Harvey sponge his fluffy pancakes into a puddle of syrup and stuff them eagerly into his mouth, only for the syrup to splash out, disobediently dripping into his beard.

“You’ve got a little…” Jim motioned at the little droplets of syrup dotting Harvey’s beard. Harvey turned to him, blinking, completely lost at Jim’s gestures. Jim scarcely paid attention to Harvey’s confusion, going after the syrup himself with a licked thumb, plucking at Harvey’s beard as softly as possible.

“Uh… think I just made your whole beard sticky.” Jim apologized, flushing, after several seconds of trying to comb the syrup out. He dropped his hand quickly, rubbing it on his thigh to get any syrup off, but more so to have something to do with his hand that wasn’t petting Harvey’s beard.

Harvey gulped, not having chewed or taken another bite since Jim had reached out for him. He clutched the complimentary water glass and downed half of it, washing down the huge bite of pancake lodged in his throat. Harvey coughed, thumping his chest. “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, not looking Jim in the eye.

Jim returned his attention pointedly to his plate but found his appetite had vanished. He barely remembered eggs were an edible substance. He figured he’d just sit like this and wait until Harvey was ready to leave and then go lie awake in his bed for 3 hours, trying to think about anything other than Harvey and the smell of pancakes and the feeling of sticky beard in his hand. Next to him, though he didn’t notice, Harvey was similarly no longer eating.

“Check, please,” Harvey murmured at the first sight of the waitress. Jim looked up and finally noticed that Harvey hadn’t moved since their, uh, disconnection either.

“Oh, uh, let me pay.” Jim reached for his wallet.

“No, Jim, I insist,” Harvey rejected him, already pulling out bills, “I invited you, I’ll pay.”

Jim gulped, but returned his wallet to his pocket and said nothing.

Outside, the sunshine was stronger and brought an even stronger desire for sleep. Jim rubbed his eyes and shielded them from the sun’s intoxicating rays, but it did nothing. “So, bed, er, nap,” Jim corrected himself hurriedly as he stepped into Harvey’s car.

“Uhhh, yeah, yep,” Harvey responded, turning the car on and facing forward. He cleared his throat and seemed to recover himself as he started to pull out. “I mean, I’m bushed, I’m gonna go home, take my hat off, and fall into bed. Take a twelve hour nap. You should do the same, if you ask me.”

“I should… maybe I will,” Jim teased, or attempted to, grinning in a way he hoped was cavalier.

“Yeah, that shot up bed of yours going to do the trick?”

Zsasz didn’t… oh. Oh. “Well, if I had somewhere else to stay,” Jim swallowed, “with slightly fewer bullet holes.”

“Well, there is that one from the time I was drunk and tried to shoot a spider,” Harvey admitted, “are you able to stand that?”

Jim gulped, his pounding heart blocking out all sound. “I-It’s less than ideal, but I’ll make do.” And he knew the face he was making was a poor excuse for a joke and veering dangerously close to sincere. It was a good thing Harvey had never seen him adore something; he might not be able to tell. Jim at least told himself that.

[haqiqa-anqa]

Cinnamon cookies? Check. Hot chocolate? Check. Cozy fireplace and a good book? Check. It was time to have a nice, warm relaxing evening.

[sncwbaz]

lazily lovingly

I listen to the reassuring beat of Simon's heart. It lets me believe this is not all one long dream. It’s really Simon who is holding me every night as I try to fall asleep and get through the nightmares. 

His skin is soft and warm and more often than I’d like to I get the urge to lick it. Instead I just kiss it. I kiss it and kiss it and kiss it. 

I sit up it bed, leaning on my elbow as I look down at Simon. His curls falling in his face, covering his blue eyes. He looks up at me and smiles a tired smile. 

“Get back here,” he whispers, but I don’t listen. 

I place my fingers on his chest and let them draw various circles. So soft. I let my hand slide up and feel his pulse. Simon just stares at me as I do. He’s alive. This is real. 

I bend down, bringing my face closer to his. For a moment I think my fangs might pop out and I’m scared I might bite him, but then our lip touch and that thought is left behind. 

My hands cup his cheeks and I let my fingers trace down his moles. I know the pattern of them with my eyes closed. 

Our lips move slowly, lazily. I feel Simon’s hands slide into my hair and I sigh against his lips. His touch is a wonderful thing; a wonderful thing that’s only there for me to enjoy. 

I am enjoying it and I know I will for as long I have him with me. Even when the moment comes I won’t have him with me anymore I will still enjoy the then bittersweet memories of it. 

Something wonderful only I get to feel.