VANYA 3,4, 31 PLEASE!

joasakura:

3. what’s their favorite food?

I mean, I’m tempted to say “Food,: because come on, this is Vanya. But the top three would have to be ice cream, fried chicken. (especially if said chicken is homemade karaage), and shchi (cabbage soup)

4. what’s their least favorite food?

Every variant of Vanya ever: ?!!? does not compute.

34. which season do they prefer? why?

He would say winter because he’s got this dumb “I can survive anything” mantra. But the truth is Vanya is a straight up Pinterest-level, pumpkin-spice swilling fan of autumn. He loves when leaves change, when nights are cold but the days aren’t.

Vanya calls the university’s Fall Break, “Lazy Break,” because Ianto makes a large effort to do as little as possible unless absolutely necessary. His laptop gathers dust in his office, his email goes ignored, and his phone runs out of battery unless Vanya happens to find it to whatever corner of the house it’s wandered off to and plug it in. The only time he moves from a reclining or semi-reclining position is when Vanya asks him to use his formidable height to counteract the Russian’s belligerent shortness. Thankfully it’s usually brief. Changing a light bulb or grabbing something from off of the high shelf in the garage.

Other than that, the professor becomes one with the couch, and Vanya tends to let him because 6′4″ of gym-toned nerd still isn’t enough space to contain all of the school year’s stress and mathematical mania without eventually causing a heart attack. They’re not getting any younger.

“You’re hairs are more gray,” Vanya sees fit to murmur to the back of Ianto’s head, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of Thanos trying to destroy the universe for the third time that weekend.

Ianto jerks his head to the side with a light, “tsk,” though he doesn’t lose pace with his knitting. “I know you think I can’t see yours, but I can,” he answers mildly. “You’re getting blonder.”

Vanya leans over the back of the couch, resting his chin on Ianto’s shoulder, eyes idly flicking between Ianto’s project and the TV. “All this knitting and loud TV. You remind me of a grandmother.”

With a snort, Ianto says, “okay, so your tone suggests you’re making fun of me. However, I think a comparison to anyone in your bloodline, real or imagined, is probably a compliment.”

Vanya plants a sloppy kiss on Ianto’s temple and slides around the couch to sit beside him, helping him untangle some of the brick red yarn. “Maybe this is true,” he smiles.

“Your grandma knitted as a way to keep her weapon close and inconspicuous.”

Vanya laughs. “She’s very smart, my imagined grandmother.”

“She is,” Ianto answers with a benign smile.

Vanya plucks at the ball of yarn tucked between them on the couch. “You are making something for me, yes?” he asks hopefully.

Ianto glances over with a grin. “Of course I am. A sweater to clash with your hair.”

Vanya scowls in pleasure down at the bundle in Ianto’s lap; a simple cabled design. It will look terrible on him. “I love you,” he says.

Ianto shrugs awkwardly, turning back to the TV, and never quite used to hearing those endearments in English. Neck hot, he answers, “same.”

Fic prompt, Vanya doing something completely mundane, and somehow it turns into trouble :D

joasakura:

It started in the cantaloupes.

Vanya held two of them, at eye level, squeezing ever so gently. Ianto had a knack with produce- he knew, with some uncanny sense, how ripe something was. But the Professor was at school and the heat, creeping into suffocatingly high temps, called for fruit. Vanya couldn’t cook, but god help him, he knew how to cut things.

Motion beyond the two fruits caught his attention, and he lowered them enough to see the couple by the deli counter. He recognized the looks on their faces as they pushed past, the quick hand grabbing a package of prescliced ham and letting it vanish into the folds of a tatty jacket.

He’d been there. Before he’d met his Professor. Even before he’d learned when to con someone’s trust and when to break someone’s arm. He’d picked pockets and stolen food wherever he’d been able.

But the motion wasn’t good enough, and a red-faced man in a blue polo shirt was stalking towards them, having seen it as well.

Vanya sighed, then kicked his cart out in front of him. It went clattering, careening, into the security man, and Vanya immediately forgot every single bit of English he knew, making “отвали, мудак, бля!” sound like the most apologetic thing anyone had ever heard.

He shot the couple a look, and a sharp nod as he continued to call the security man an increasingly colourful stream of Russian swears in a mollifying tone, tripping over him and upending a carefully arranged mountain of tomatoes as they scurried away.

By the time he was done, the produce section was in chaos, the security man was screaming at him, and Vanya was relatively sure he would never shop at this particular Food Lion again.

but the couple had gotten away. He hoped they’d grabbed more than just some ham.

He didn’t expect to find them, sitting in a battered old ford at the back of the parking lot when he exited, but he wheeled his cart over to a car that wasn’t his and peered back at them. “What groceries do you need?” He asked, trying to soften his usual scowl. “I buy too much soup and veggies and things for just the two people.”

“Why’d you help us?” She finally asked, peering around her partner.

“I know what it is like, to be hungry, and to have people think you steal, maybe even when you don’t sometimes.” he shrugged. “But please to be careful, yes?”

“We can’t pay you back.” he said, taking the proffered bag.

“Is loan to future. Sometime, you help someone else, yes?” He smiled his least unsettling smile.

As they drove off, he looked in his cart, and let out a heavy sigh. He’d forgotten the damn cantaloupes.

“War’s End” kiss XD

“When this is over,” Vanya groans hoarsely, “I sleep forever.”

“No, you won’t,” Ianto answers just as hoarsely, flopping his arm out.

Vanya takes his hand, threading their dirty fingers together. They squelch with wet dirt. It’s disgusting, and so very, very appropriate. “How can you say what I will do?”

With his free hand, Ianto lethargically lifts his hips up, a sucking sound greeting his ears and reminding them that they’re practically buried in mud. He digs into his pocket and slaps his prize onto his chest. “Because it’s over, and you’re still awake.”

Vanya shoots up to a sitting position, pawing at the bag with frozen, trembling fingers. He doesn’t dare reach inside to foul up what he’s pretty fucking sure he’s imagining seeing. “The diamonds?”

Ianto tries to nod but the back of his head has become one with the earthy glue under him. “Money’s buried a few miles away, too.”

Vanya tumbles against him with a resounding splat, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until all he’s got left is the ability to open his lips against Ianto’s temple. “How? They looked! They saw! There were diamonds in bag!”

With an embarrassing amount of help needed, Ianto pries himself out of the mud to a sitting position. Now that the sun’s out, he’s about to become a clay statue, but it doesn’t matter. He grins. “Yeah, no, I made a pit stop at the craft store on my way to rescue you.”

Vanya’s brow furrows. “Why? Do they sell explosives now?”

“Nah. But they do sell glass beads for bedazzlers.”

Vanya’s eyes go comically wide. “But…” he sputters. “They… they can tell difference, yes?”

Ianto shrugs. “Sure they can, but…” He throws an arm around the stout Russian’s shoulders. “If there’s one thing I can always count on, it’s you shooting at mobsters enough so that they don’t have the time to look too closely while they’re running away.”

Vanya blinks. Then throws his head back and laughs until his sides ache. He wipes caked mud and tears of mirth out of his eyes and Ianto is laughing softly with him. “Those glass things they show Vasily? How much are they worth?”

Ianto leans back on his hands, staring at the sky. “Oh, let’s see. About nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-three dollars, and sixteen cents less than he was expecting.”

Vanya flops back down, heedless of the mud, focused solely on the blue sky above him. “я люблю тебя.”

“I know.”

#15 all the way!

joasakura:

As far as hiding places from the mob went, Ianto had to admit he’d never considered a big granite hut filled with other people’s dead relatives to be an option.

But here he was, sitting on a suitcase full of stolen diamonds, surrounded by corpses named Prudence and Gertrude and Obidiah, eating half a snickers bar. He watched the clouds dance through moonlight that slid in past a marble angel, her features long since worn flat by acid rain and vandalism.

There was a crunch of dead grass and Vanya’s stocky form split the dim light even further. “I get blanket from car, hide it good, don’t worry Professor, your baby is a-ok.” He said, dropping the ratty plaid emergency blanket and plopping himself down beside an dented brass urn filled with dead sticks.

Ianto took a small swig of gatorade in a flavour he could only reliably describe as “room-temperature blue” and scowled at the smaller man in the gloom. “Vanya.”

“Да?” He didn’t look up, carefully arranging fake flowers in the vase.

“Did you seriously steal flowers off someone’s grave?” Ianto took another swig of the blue as he watched the little Russian fluff up a plastic zinnia.

“Not like dead people using them.” Vanya snatched a piece of the candy bar, and pocketed it in his cheek. “Room needed colour. Brightens up the place, yes?”

Ianto shook his head and flung a corner of the blanket at him. “I’ll make sure to leave an extra star on yelp for thoughtful accomodations.” He said, laughing.

“I leave chocolate on your pillow, but someone eat it already.” Vanya scooted over, making a great show of chewing his piece. “But maybe if the Professor is good, I show him turndown service.”

“Not in front of Prudence.” Ianto snorted. “You know how she gets.”

This might be the best thing I’ve ever read. I did one of those happy laugh-sighs at it.

Hello I would very much like How about we put on some pants and figure this out? with Vanya and Ianto please and thank you :D

ltleflrt:

joasakura:

“Pick up the super hot, shady looking Russian drifter, Ianto.” Ianto muttered, marching out of the swamp. “It’ll be exciting, Ianto.” He was naked, save for a pair of muck soaked socks and underpants. “You need to get out of your comfort zone, Ianto.”

Overhead, an owl hooted desolately in a moss-hung tree. One faction of Mobsters had their car. Another was looking to hunt them down, and he pulled a leech off his behind with an unhappy sound.

“’Yanto, wait, wait.” Vanya called from behind him. The stocky little Russian struggled to keep up with him. Since Vasily had shot him in the leg, despite their best efforts, it slowed him down more than he liked. His battered jeans were plastered to his thick legs, and he dumped water out of one boot as he followed, a bundle of sodden fabric in his arms. “How about ‘yanto puts on his pants and we figure situation out, like boyscout, yes?”

Ianto froze, then turned, yanking is mud-soaked khaki’s from the redhead. “I hate you.”

“You say that now, but wait until we get car back from Mafia and you take shower.” Vanya grinned. “All better then.”

“You have a horrible sense of what all better means.” Ianto sighed, scowling at the leech stuck to the Russian’s arm. “Really horrible.”

I love e v e r y t h i n g about this.

Are you still taking prompts? If so, harassing this angel on duty turned into flirting please!

joasakura:

“It’s ok, Yantiel. You’ll only serve a couple of thousand years on earth, Yantiel.” The angel muttered, realizing he’d lost count of the numerous sheep roaming the field below. “Crap.”

The shepard, a strange, oily fellow who did unspeakable things to his neighbor’s cow on occasion, had wandered off, and the angel started counting again. They were one short. Cursing in a tongue that would drive human ears to weeping, the former angel of Celestial Mechanics stalked down the hill to do another head count of his charge’s sheep, only to see a shadowy figure dashing off with one bleating bundle cast over it’s shoulders.

Sword at the ready, the angel sprung into action. Wings flapping furiously, he chased the bounding figure through the dense woods where he couldn’t fly, and over a winding river. It was dark by the time he’d lost it in the craggy mountains and the angel sat down in a dejected pile of armour and feathers. “Demon.” Yantiel spat. “Next time, buster.”

The next day was quiet, and the angel was busy trying to build a scale model of the universe out of the sheep when he realized that he’d actually enjoyed chasing the demon.

The day after that, he heard a frantic bleating, and paused in counting a particularly boring patch of grass to see his nemesis returned. “YOU!” He bellowed, lance gleaming in the sun. “UNHAND THE SHEEP, FOUL HELLSPAWN!”

“Foul is boring insult to be the making!” The demon shouted back, waving the sheep at Yantiel. “Why is fancy Angel watching sheep anyways?” It didn’t try to run, and when the angel got closer he saw it looked like a broad-faced young man and was rather short, small black horns in his scruffy thatch of scarlet hair, and clad in rather normal human clothes were it not for the hooves and tail.

“Sheep are important creatures in the great plan.” Yantiel sniffed, drawing himself up to his full angelic height, wings shining like pearls.

“Bullshit.” The demon said, adjusting the sheep under his arm. “I steal sheep from cow-fucking idiot many time, never angel, then one day, boom angel.” The demon clip-clopped forward and narrowed his pale eyes at Yantiel. “Did fancy angel make someone mad?”

“You’re making me mad.” Yantiel bristled. “I am of the choir of thrones, engineer in the movement of the spheres!”

“And you watch sheep, what, for fun?” The demon set the sheep down and sat on it. “I am Vanya, by the way. Is not real name, but is good, yes? Good name.”

The angel sat down, fluffing out his wings with a sigh. “There used to be a planet in between mars and jupiter and I might have fucked up a calculation and it got blown up.”

The demon blinked, then reached into his woolen tunic to pull out a sweaty, armpit temperature leather skin. “That is big fuck up, pretty angel. You want drink?”

“God, do I ever.” Yantiel said. “Do I EVER.”

A Very Vanyanto 2017

For @joasakura

“Y’know, I said I’d never do this again…” Ianto mutters, blowing into his hands to warm them.

“You make many stupid promises like that,” Vanya answers, beaming so much his face probably hurts. “But you never deny me, and that makes you perfect husband.”

“I swear to God, if we get arrested, I’m divorcing you.”

Vanya snorts as he bends double to tie the last of the lines. “How is that your… how do you say… bar? We have been in the jails together many times.”

“That was different.” He slips around behind Vanya to check and double check his work. “We didn’t go to jail for funsies before.”

“Remember the one near Vegas? Had such good food. Good hospitality.”

“Yes, because that’s what everyone looks for in a fucking jail,” Ianto says dryly.

“Don’t hurt,” Vanya answers. “This is ready now.”

Sighing, Ianto steps back to the garage. He checks his watch. “Right on time. Light it up.”

Vanya clicks the handheld remote and in the driveway, a line of inflatable Christmas decorations light up and begin to inflate. They’d raided the Wal-Mart for the sale items and come away with a Christmas T-Rex, Santa in a rocket ship, a couple of reindeer, and a full nativity scene. It only takes three minutes for them to fully inflate.

The hands on Ianto’s watch tick closer and closer to midnight. With an inward cringe, he sees the neighbors starting to come outside for the midnight celebrations and fireworks. And they’re all staring at the Shepard-Pastushok display because last year had nearly burned the house down. The neighborhood kids had been thrilled.

Ianto brushes his thumb over the red button, watching Vanya all the while, making sure the decorations are up before trotting back to a “safe” distance.

The countdown starts from ten.

A whole chorus of voices around the cul-du-sac raises up. At one, Vanya screams, “FUCK YOU TWENTY-SIXTEEN! SUCK MY RUSSIAN DICK!”

Ianto presses the red button.

One after the other, the decorations explode into a concussive blast, a huge fireball launching up into the night. It’s more Hollywood pyrotechnics than anything, but Ianto’s pretty proud to watch it all go up without a hitch. This time.

The neighbors cheer and Vanya whoops, slapping Ianto hard on the back.

After some more sedate fireworks, and a promise to the kids to blow something else up next year, Vanya and Ianto bring out the long brooms to sweep up the worst of the mess.

“I’ll miss Rex,” Vanya muses.

Ianto chuckles. “Me, too. Happy New Year, Red.”

“Happy New Year, Professor.”

joasakura:

So, the immensely talented @doomcheese sent me this magnificent picture of two losers on the run from the mob.

Hey, @jupiterjames, congratulations on your new job and may all good things come your way, bb.

I’m trying to find words. They’re not. I don’t have. There aren’t.

*smooshes their faces together* Make out!

Jo, you are amazing to commission this! It’s a blessing on the world, and so are you.

*tiny voice* ohmygod

Patching up a wound for Vanyanto please (sorry, I don’t how to make the symbols on mobile lol)

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Vanya said, carefully guiding Ianto to the padded chair in front of the rickety table in the dirty motel room.

“I’m usually better at not exploding myself,” Ianto said, offering out his hand. “But I was in a time crunch, and briefcase bombs are more of an art than a science.”

Vanya pulled the stolen medical bag closer and dug for the tweezers and disinfectant. He was a little proud and a little ashamed at how little Ianto flinched at the whole process right now, having been through it so often. “Don’t you professors always tell to check work before using?”

Ianto chuckled. “That wasn’t forefront in my mind with you kidnapped, no.”

Vanya turned Ianto’s palm over in his hand, impressed with the softness. With the trust as he dabs at the shrapnel wounds. Not deep and most have stopped actively bleeding now. He doesn’t know a single other person in the world who would willingly offer his hand out. Vanya’s pretty adept at breaking fingers, after all.

He’s much worse at actually bandaging anything, so Ianto helps with his good hand, guiding the gauze wrapping with Vanya and not letting him go overboard with it. “They didn’t hurt me,” he said.

“I didn’t give them time to.”

It’s nice like this. Sitting close. Ianto loves to lean closer than necessary and let Vanya take deep breaths of his cologne. He likes to touch, too. Seemingly-innocent brushes of hands and shoulders that somewhere along the line had morphed into a lot more sensual acts.

“I hope your hand does not scar,” Vanya said suddenly.

Ianto blinked. “Who cares if it does?” he asked.

“I do,” he answered, kissing the spot where he’s taped the gauze wrap down and giving Ianto a feral smile before finally releasing him. “I’ve never had such soft hands on my dick before.”

That startled a laugh out of Ianto. “You sure can ruin a moment, Red. But in an effort to be the best lay you’ve ever had, I’ll do my best to not ruin my hands.”

“That’s all I ask,” Vanya nodded, standing and retreating to the bathroom to clean up the tools and smiling to himself when he heard Ianto mutter, “asshole.”

35 So uh. I noticed you’re kinda naked. Is that intentional, or… ?” (Ianto, Vanya and Kaidan XD)

Your wish is my command! This one hints at an OT3.

Vanya and Ianto are in the middle of a drinking contest for the ages when Ianto’s comm pings. He pauses with his tumbler halfway to his lips and clicks the link on. “Yeah?”

“It’s me,” Kaidan says in a stage whisper.

“Hey!” Ianto says brightly. “Where the hell are you? Vanya and I are-”

“He’s there? Patch him in.”

Glancing to the Russian, Ianto taps his ear. Vanya joins the link. “What?” He says without preamble.

“I need backup. Evac. Something.”

Vanya and Ianto both share looks of surprise. The Russian says, “you in trouble?”

“I’m sending you my coordinates,” Kaidan confirms tersely. “Bring lots of guns. Maybe some grenades.”

Ianto is only half worried and far more amused. “What did you get yourself into?”

“Spectre business.” Kaidan is lying. They can both tell. “Doesn’t matter. Just get your asses here. You owe me. Don’t argue. Bring guns.” The comm cuts out and both Ianto’s and Vanya’s omni-tools flash with coordinates not far from the Citadel bar they’re currently drinking dry. They down the last of their drinks, suit up, and head to the coordinates as fast as possible.

It’s an empty docking bay and the first thing they encounter is a LOT of noise. Rounding the corner, they see nothing but chaos. At least six Krogan, buck-ass nude, yelling, headbutting, destroying everything in sight as they fight each other.

Vanya and Ianto skid to a halt, taking it all in.

“They don’t look angry,” Vanya mentions. “They look like they’re celebrating.”

Ianto makes a small whining noise in the back of his throat.

Vanya shoots him a nasty look. “If this gets on social media, Kaidan will kill you in your sleep.”

He hangs his head and sweeps his hand out wide. “Then I guess this one is all you, Vanguard.”

With a murderous grin, Vanya winks and his biotics crackle. Ianto takes a step back as the frequency resonates with his own, raising the hair on the back of his neck. The Russian is a streak of light a second later, Charging into the center of the group of Krogan and blasting them all off of their feet. Storage crates and naked Krogan crashed and toppled and Ianto laughed uproariously as he filmed the whole thing.

And then he caught sight of Kaidan. Vanya was still surveying the damage and likely calling C-Sec and hadn’t yet noticed Alenko’s predicament.

Grinning, Ianto turned off his omni-tool as he approached the docking protocol computer station that Kaidan was currently crouched behind. “Hey, Major,” he said conversationally. “So uh. I noticed you’re kinda naked. Is that intentional, or… ?”

“I got caught in the crossfire,” Kaidan fumed. “Minding my own business and C-Sec calls for me to break up a drunk and disorderly. Too many Krogan to handle. Their leader says it’s some right of passage, and, one thing leads to another, and… you know what? I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” Ianto crows.

Vanya trots over, double-takes, and laughs so hard he has to use Ianto’s arm as a brace to keep himself upright. Through wheezing gasps, he manages to tell Alenko where his clothes have ended up. Kaidan stalks off, also buck ass nude, head held high.

“It’s always the good stuff I’m not allowed to post about,” Ianto laments.

Vanya shrugs. “You might as well go with this one because I’m getting the impression that neither of us is getting laid ever again.”