#and this morning when we were talking by call i pronounced “button” wrong and she taught me how i say it correctly

[moonaive-archive]

when english isn’t ur native language and u don’t know how to pronounce some words right ;-;

#non sims #it’s funny bc i’ve been in this english course for more than 8 years and i still don’t feel good enough with my english :/ #but speaking/talking was always so difficult for me since i didn’t have anyone to talk to besides my english teacher and classmates #but since sarah and i started dating and we talk every day all day and it’s in english it’s been rlly good bc she helps me a damn lot!! #and this morning when we were talking by call i pronounced “button” wrong and she taught me how i say it correctly #and then she was like ‘brunna u’re so cute’ and i was like ‘🥺🥺🥺’ #i swear to God that she’s one of the best person i have in my life & i love her so freaking much ‪♡‬ #dl

[mzjmesa]

Out Loud | Chloe Decker

She was a good detective. Is. The pride of the office, the officer praised here and there. Your partner. Your bestfriend. Detective Chloe Decker. It wasn't because of her smart, genius mind that attracted you to her, no. Well, sometimes, anyway. But it could've been alot of reasons, loving Chloe Decker. And you would've loved any other reasons— to make this easier, to make the feelings disappear sooner. Because whatever the attraction was, it was unprofessional— Chloe never did unprofessional. And you fear if you couldn't hold it any longer, she'd run away from you.

You can't bear that.

But you loved Chloe either way. You loved her eyes, her kindness, that bright and knowing smile that goes with her eyes, you loved the way her lips part when she's about to say something defensive— you loved her. You loved her the most when she knocks at your door and asks how you're doing. You loved the late night talks and laughs about freshmen days which was rare, because she never spent so much time in highschool, she got unending stories about it anyway. You loved the way she listens. You loved her. You loved Chloe Decker. And as she passes by your desk, to the man she likes, you reminded yourself that it was wrong. Wrong because you were supposed to be happy for her.

A knock on your desk drifted your thoughts away, Dan. “How are we doing?” he asked, if he'd caught you staring enviously at Chloe and Lucifer, he hadn't mind.

“How are we doing?” You repeated stupidly, still hungover from yesterday. Which by the way was Chloe's fault, you just wouldn't admit it to yourself.

Dan shrugs, “Yeah? I sent you files to look at, remember?”

Oh.

You shake your head as though it would help you focus on the present and tried to remember where you had placed the papers. You checked your drawers, trying hard to block out Chloe and Lucifer's voices. You busied your hand flipping through dozens of papers, vividly remembering the file's name.

Jonathan Flinn's. Ahh. Case closed for 2 months, there wasn't much evidence of the murder, but the majority linked to him, and eventually the court pronounced him guilty. There had been questions left unsolved, and if Espinoza wasn't up to anything, it would've been left at that.

You sighed, “Have you talked to Chloe about this?”

“Yeah,” He looked past your shoulder to where Chloe was, then back to you. “she thinks it's a bad idea.”

Of course she did. You did, too. That was a thing between you two, something about your guts always telling you the same what's what. That's why you were partnered with her, and you would've loved to continue being one (although truth be told, you still were in papers anyway) but she'd found a consultant, a batshit crazy one at that. Lucifer Morningstar. Always telling himself he's the devil, going on and about his everyday life like anyone gives a damn, and always making everything about himself. If he wasn't charming, and a ‘friend’ of Chloe's, you would've hated him. Most times you did. But times when Chloe was down, he was always the first to cheer her up. You used to be the one doing that, until he came.

“You should listen to her, Dan.”

“Oh c'mon! I would've agreed with Chloe and wouldn't have come to you if it weren't so important. His mother is my god—”

“—mother. Yes, yes, I know that, Dan. I know you think this is a good idea to pay her back, too. But it's not, trust me. Trust Chloe.” You exhaled, feeling the weight of her stare on your back. “It could go worst anyway, what when we can't find any evidence or if we do, worst case scenario is it'll only lead to him. Again. We'll just worsen his situation.”

Dan sighed, massaging his jaw with exasperation because he knew you were right. And also because as much as he pretends not to care too much, he does. You loved that about him.

As you heard footsteps behind, you handed back the files to Dan who hid it behind his back, masking his irritation with a smile to Chloe.

You ignored her, lingering your eyes on the missing button of Dan's shirt.

“Ella found some prints, we haven't identified it yet but it's likely our lead.” Chloe started just behind you, and you knew Lucifer was beside her as much as you hated it. “In the meantime, Dan? I'd like to discuss to you about the Flinn case, Lucifer and I went back to the crime scene yesterday. We found nothing.”

Dan frowned. “I thought you said it was a bad idea.”

“I know, I know. I... ugh... well I went over it again, anyway.”

A small smile creeped on his face, and you were almost sure his eyes were watering when Lucifer jumped on the conversation about his father, bla bla bla. You couldn't care less. Chloe did, and that should be enough for Lucifer. She'd always been enough for you. You bit your lips, wishing you could busy your hands with something. Anything. But your desk was on your back, and oh, Chloe, too.

It felt immature and all, but you were hurting just knowing they were together, seeing them would break you.

“I'll check in on with Ella.” Chloe announced, “(Y/N)?”

“Are you having a stroke Miss (L/N)? Staying still like a trained robot, you're scarying me— and believe when I say I rarely get scared.” Lucifer added.

Oh you believe alright. And robots are trained?! Trying to hide your feelings with a forced smile, you turned around, making sure you weren't going to make an eye contact with a certain detective, and immediately grabbed a random paper and pen you can hold— scribbling anything. Anything at all.

“I'm alright.” You answered after a beat or two, still unbothered to look. Who would want to, honestly.

Chloe cleared her throat, whispered something to Lucifer, and then bid goodbye. It was then when you looked at them walking away. Lucifer's hand on her back, Chloe looking small beside him— your chest aching the same, if not, more.

You're definitely not gonna look again.

-

You had a week off work, and you'd almost fell to your knees thanking God when the lieutenant told you. You needed it more than you needed Chloe, which proves just how important it was— Chloe had been. Still is, by the way.

It was 8 am, by now Chloe would be at her desk, examining or making reports, or on a crime scene with Ella and, Lucifer. You snapped out of your mind, reminding yourself you'd needed the vacation because work and particularly Chloe had been stressing you out and very much so hurting you.

You'd hit the beach, go to the mountains for the view,— you didn't wanna hike though, you needed rest not making sweats— visit your sister and niece, and then finally bake while blasting Taylor Swift because admit it or not, you're much broken than your grandmother's vase.

When the water was hot enough, you took a bath and dressed. A peach-colored tank top that comes along with a brown mini skirt and a coat was your outfit for the day. Only, the coat reminded you too much of Chloe's. She liked coats. And that coat, back then warning you that she'd steal it eventually. So you changed with other coats, just didn't fit well with the shirt and skirt, so you gave in and left your hair untouched and untied. Grabbing your pouch and your gun— a licensed one, just in case. And opened your door. You would've preferred the bright sky and fresh air of the morning in LA. But Chloe Decker was standing there, fist on air as if she'd been ready to knock.

You froze.

Were you having a stroke? Most likely.

“(Y/N).”

“Chloe.”

Wasn't she supposed to be at work? You didn't mind either way, but it surprised you still, she hadn't been visiting much since... Lucifer. Everything's just been different since he arrived, not in a good way for you.

You stepped aside, not saying anything since you figured out a human wouldn't understand any word that comes out of your mouth. She went in, instead of sitting on your couch like the old days, she lingered on the living room, standing and looking at you.

Most times you hadn't mind.

She started, “How are you?”

“I'm good.”

“No, (Y/N). How are you?”

You didn't know what to say. Or why she'd ask a question as that. “I'm not—”

“Do you like me?”

What.

Your face must've given the shock, because she answered your unasked question. “Dan said some things. I'm-I'm not— you're not transferring, are you?”

Oh you're definitely gonna choke the life out of Dan. But knowing him, he wouldn't have spit it out too easily. He was probably drunk and didn't mean it. Still, you wished you said it to Chloe yourself. About the liking and transferring.

You remained silent, reading the expression on Chloe's face. Was she sad? Upset? After years of knowing her, you would've known right away. But now you couldn't. And you fear you might've forgotten the every detail of her face, too.

“(Y/N)...” Her voice gave out, carrying every sadness within. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“About what?” You answered stupidly in a whisper, fearing that if you came into your senses everything would feel too real.

“About everything! About— about your feelings for me. About Seatte. About why you've been so far from me!”

“You have been far from me, Chloe.”

She frowns, and you knew millions and billions and gazillions of questions where popping in her mind.

Tears in your eyes were forming, and you hated it, all of this. She wasn't supposed to know at all. She wasn't supposed to know you had immature feelings for her. Wasn't supposed to know you were transferring atleast 'till next month. But Chloe wasn't dumb, and you should've known that.

Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat, her breathing heavy. “We could've talked about it.”

“We haven't talked much at all these days because of—” you cut yourself off, rolling your eyes at how sick it feels. You hated yourself for it, but you continued anyway. “Because of Lucifer.”

She exhaled. “Lucifer and I are complicated.”

“I know that, Chloe.” You said firmly, meeting her gaze pitying you. Of course she pities you. “I also know you like him so much. I know you've been crying when he fake married that Candy. I know you've been sick worrying when he can't answer your texts or calls. I know you've gone lengths trying to understand him. I know. I know so much so that I didn't wanna be so selfish and tell you things you didn't wanna hear because it'll make your complicated relationship with Lucifer even more complicated. I fucking know. And I loved you too much.”

Chloe's tears were beginning to fall, one by one, slowly. And it hurts you to see her like this. Especially because you know you caused it.

“It was never my intention to push you away. You're my friend— can't we just stay like this?” She asked in a soft, breaking voice. And if it wasn't Chloe you would've said yes because people are easy to move on from. But it was indeed Chloe and she was... not like anyone you know. She was a missing piece of your puzzle. Only, you have never been a piece of hers.

“I love you, Chloe.”

It was weird, saying it out loud, to her. You never thought you could, knowing you were a coward than every cowards combined.

You did though, and that must've pulled something. Because Chloe approached you, side hugged, and then left.

So much for a vacation.

You spent the night crying.

Chloe Decker spent hers with the man she loved. And you were never that man.

#chloe decker x reader #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #netflix #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #wlw #angst #angsty #fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt no comfurt #hurt comfort

[dreamywriterinthedark]

Recess sobs and bedtime resolutions

Pairing: fem!Reader x Spencer

Request: Ok so the reader is a psychologist and is married to spencer and they have a 5 year old daughter who gets in trouble for punching a kid because they picked on her because they didn't beleive her dad was in the fbi If that makes sense any who if you don't write this i get it I just want to see speancers reaction

Trigger warnings: bullying, physical violence. (let me know if i forgot something)

Category: fluff, slight angst.

A/N: thank you so much for this request! I hope you like it. The daughter sounds a bit older than 5, in my head she’s in the early stages of elementary school. Let me know what you think about it! I’d be glad to receive some feedback. (Btw I hurt my own feelings writing this, you can’t even imagine...)

You were in your office, a typical Tuesday afternoon until you heard your office phone ring once more. You held up your finger to make your client pause what they were saying, you picked up the phone only to hang up.

“I apologise for the inconvenience. Now where were we ?” you said trying to get your client comfortable again despite the ringing. As she was about to speak up again, your cellphone rang, Spencer’s name lit up your screen and that’s when you were starting to get concerned.

“I’m so sorry I have to get that.” You said exiting the office to take the call. You were happy to hear your significant other’s voice nonetheless you knew he wouldn’t normally call you during working hours.

“Hi darling, is everything okay ?”

“No, not really. The school called, there’s an emergency.” he responded wrapping his scarf around his neck as he was making his way to the elevator.

“What happened ?” you asked getting more and more worried.

“She punched a classmate in the face. Can you believe it ?!” he pressed the button 0 waving goodbye to his coworkers.

“What ? Our daughter? Jane ? Are you sure it’s not her evil twin ?”

“Eviler twin you mean ? No offense, Y/n, but if she had one, I’m pretty sure you would remember…”

“Alright, I’ll tell my secretary to cancel all my appointments for the day. I’ll meet you there.”

“Love you, bye.”

“Love you too.” You answered before hanging up. You made it a little bit of a rule to yourself to never say ‘goodbye’ to him because you thought that if you did it may increase the chances of you never seeing him again. You knew it was a bit silly but with all those times he was close to death, you’d believe in any superstition if that meant he would get home safe.

After taking care of your client and letting your secretary handle the rest, you hurried out of your office to drive to your daughter’s elementary school.

You pushed the interphone button, once you were allowed entrance you walked to the principal’s office. You softly knocked, when the door opened it showed Spencer sitting in a chair right across the desk, next to it was an empty chair meant for you.

“I’m sorry, I came as I soon as I could.” you apologized.

“Well, I assume you’re Jane’s mother. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Principal Walker.” he greeted shaking your hand. As you sat down, Spencer gave you his best polite white smile.

“Do you know what you’re here for ?” he inquired.

“You said our daughter was involved in a conflict with a student...” you answered.

“Your daughter punched a student in the face.” He said bluntly.

“Right…”

“Are you sure it’s Jane ?” Spencer asked still struggling to believe it.

“Wait until you see her knuckles...”

Spencer put his face in his hands in defeat, you rubbed his shoulder to bring him comfort.

“What happened exactly ?” you asked.

“Well, it was during the 10AM break. Jane went out to play with her classmates when a boy started arguing with her. Next thing we hear is a scream, the boy is on the floor crying.”

You and Spencer both looked at each other with an immense look of stupor.

“The boy, did he bully her ?” Spencer asked trying to find some innocence in the sweet child of his.

“Not that we know of.” answered the principal.

“Is he okay though ?” you questioned.

“Yes, just a minor injury. He went back home.”

You nodded, “So what happens next ?”

“We are giving her a warning but the next time something like this happens there will be harsher consequences than a simple punishment. Understood ?”

“Yes. we understand. Thank you for your time, sir.” you said as you rose up from your chair. Spencer and you both exited the room finding your daughter in the waiting lounge looking guilty as ever. You saw Spencer’s face look puzzled and hostile. To torture your daughter with even more guilt you told her to ride back home with her dad which she did not love but couldn’t protest.

Spencer hardly spoke to Jane the entire drive. He was dry, so much it looked like he ignored her. Jane was desperate to get him to talk to her.

“Please, dad. Don’t be mad at me!” she exclaimed.

“I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.” those words he pronounced cut like a knife. You knew that by seeing her dad’s reaction she would become aware of the gravity of her actions. And he actually wasn’t mad, at least not until he saw her pouting face. He loved her too much to be angry.

“Okay but can you just talk to me!” she whined.

“Oh we will, back home with your mom.”

That car ride lasted longer for Jane than usual. No music, no anecdotes nor laughs, just plain silence and introspection while gazing at the landscape.

Your house was in the suburbs near a forest, Spencer had all sorts of scientific arguments as to why living near nature was beneficial but you just loved the paysage before your eyes when taking your morning coffee. The location was perfect; in nature which means less pollution, noise and lower criminal rates yet a short car ride from the city which was full of cultural spots and with high quality education.

Jane tried to run up the stairs in hope to avoid her parents’ correction but was interrupted by your strict toned voice; “Not so fast, young lady.”

She shut her eyes stopping dead in her tracks, she lifted her stuffed animal and said to it “It was nice knowing you, fluffy.” She then turned around and sat on the couch.

Spencer was pacing around, “Why did you do it ?” He asked his daughter his voice slightly higher than before. She started melting in tears which truly pained him. You walked up to her, as you were sat on the couch next to her you started stroking her arm and drying her tears.

“It’s okay. We’re just trying to understand why you did that. There’s no way you would’ve done it without a reason.” you told her.

“Jeremy kept making fun of me…” she struggled to get out whimpering.

“How long has he been making fun of you ?” Spencer asked.

“Since Valentine’s day when everyone was exchanging cards but my box was empty.” You glanced at Spencer in shock of how long you hadn’t known your daughter was getting bullied, silently suffering.

“Honey, I’m so sorry you had to go through this.” you reassured her kissing her cheek and running your hands through her hair. “But what happened exactly that made you punch him ?”

“He made fun of dad, he wouldn’t believe he was in the FBI.” She answered tilting her head up. “I asked him to stop but he wouldn’t so I defended myself.” she affirmed seeming not so guilty anymore. You unwrapped your arms from her giving her a frown.

“That’s not how you deal with problems.” Spencer said sitting on the low table across the couch.

“Yeah, you could’ve talked to us first but you didn’t even try. You know you can tell us everything ?” You backed him up.

“I know but I thought I could deal with this problem on my own. You guys always seem so good at it. And I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

You glanced at Spencer both slightly smiling at each other.

“If there’s one thing I learned from my job at the FBI is that violence is never the answer. It’s only justifiable if it’s legitimate defence; when you life is in danger.”

“Dad, do you still love me ?” she asked watching her feet swinging on the edge of the couch.

“Of course, I love you. I always will, no matter what.” he responded taking hold of her hand. “Okay?” She nodded. She didn’t seem to understand that punching someone is wrong. You needed to have a talk with Spencer;

“Now go to your room and do your homework, we’ll talk punishment tomorrow morning.” You said.

“But-“ she protested.

“No buts, go to your room.” You ordered.

You joined Spencer on the couch, he looked completely defeated. “Hey, are you alright ?” You asked him while taking a seat next to him. “Yes.” He answered a bit too quickly. “I mean…No…Not really.” You knew exactly why he was feeling like this. “It’s not your fault, Spence.” you reassured him playing with his hair.

“This whole time…And I didn’t know she was struggling. What kind of father am I ?”

“I come home every night and I didn’t know about this. It’s not because of your job, it’s not because of us. I’m blaming the school, here. They’re the ones who are supposed to prevent bullying from happening.”

He rummaged his hair with his hands whilst his elbows rested on his knees.

“Plus it’s a good sign, she doesn’t get along with kids her age…” you said slightly smirking.

“How?!” Spencer asks slightly irritated due to his public middle school flashbacks.

“It’s a sign of high intellectual potential. Her emotional age is too advanced for kids her age to understand, they tend to be too insensitive for her. She believes animals and inanimate objects have emotions and that they are intelligent. She talks to her stuffed animal like it’s a pet. She took the pepperonis out of her pizza! Also she has an enormous amount of creativity and she’s highly sensitive to her surroundings. Have you seen how she profiled your every move and suddenly her emotions followed ? Just like you she’s protective of the ones she loves. She only punched that kid because he wasn’t exactly talking highly of you…”

“So you’re saying…”

“Our daughter could be a genius.”

“As mother as daughter.” he complimented with a smirk.

“Oh come on we know who’s the genius here!” you said slapping his shoulder playfully.

You both chuckled. You kept talking for at least half an hour to come up with a plan you both agreed to. It’s not good for a child to watch their parents disagree.

~slight time lapse~

An hour after dinner, you went up to your daughter’s bedroom as it was her bedtime. You leaned on the door frame admiring Spencer, sat next to Jane on her bed, reading a story to her about conflict to teach her what to do in the type of situations she got in. He learned that from you since you were a psychologist. He admired how resourceful and clever you were. He couldn’t be more proud to have you as his significant other and the mother of his child. Your foot made a cracking noise on the hard wood floor which caught Jane attention.

“Mommy! Come!” she exclaimed shaking her little hands.

“What’s up?” you ask sitting next to the bed.

“Me and dad were reading this book you got me and now i understand. I’m sorry for not coming to you first. I just didn’t like what they said about dad.”

“Honey, it doesn’t matter what people think of you. Seeking validation from people can be so unhealthy. If you keep bottling up your emotions you’re going to explode like a bomb and that’s no good.”

“Can you forgive me, mommy ?”

“Of course. You’re still growing, as long as you learn from your mistakes I’m confident you’re going to be alright.” You answered squeezing her hand. Spencer watched in awe, it reminded him how in love with you he is.

“Yes, please don’t ever do that again!” he said a bit too quickly with a high pitched voice that made you all burst in laughter.

“Alright, you should get some sleep.” you told her giving her a kiss on the cheek and tucking her in; “Good night, my love.”

Spencer kissed her temple and set aside the little book he was reading to her wishing her good night as well. You walked out switching the lights off. As you walked down the stairs you asked Spencer to stop in his tracks pointing your finger up; Jane was talking to her stuffed animal. You both had to muffle your laughs. The future looked bright.

#criminal minds #fluff #imagine #spencer #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fluff #y/n #angst #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer reid angst #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #spencer reid fic #cbs #spencer x reader #fem!reader

[firstfullmoon]

Do you have favorite quotes related about the importance of small details?

“The precious intimacy of little things.”

— Daphné du Maurier, I Will Never Be Young Again

“On my windowsill when I got home, there was a tumbler with pink jelly in it, and embedded in the jelly, sliced strawberries and bananas… [my neighbour] cooks at odd hours. She must have made the strawberry jelly this morning. When I buy baklava, which is not often because I eat too many, I leave a few for her on her windowsill, with a headscarf over them so the wasps don’t come. For these little gifts we don’t thank each other with words. They are commas of care.”

— John Berger, From A to X: A Story in Letters

“I suppose I could spend time theorizing how it is that people are not bad to each other, but that’s really not the point. The point is that in almost every instance of our lives, our social lives, we are, if we pay attention, in the midst of an almost constant, if subtle, caretaking. Holding open doors. Offering elbows at crosswalks. Letting someone else go first. Helping with the heavy bags. Reaching what’s too high, or what’s been dropped. Pulling someone back to their feet. Stopping at the car wreck, at the struck dog. The alternating merge, also known as the zipper. This caretaking is our default mode and it’s always a lie that convinces us to act or believe otherwise. Always.”

“One of the woman was gently arranging an older woman’s collar beneath her sweater, freeing it from the cardigan’s neck, using both of her hands to jostle it free but also seeming to spend a little more time than necessary, creasing the fold of the collar, the other hand kind of resting on her shoulder, the two of them chatting the whole time, sitting there holding each other, nodding, my head twisting toward them like a sunflower as I finished the stairs and walked by, so in love was I with this common flourish of love, this everyday human light.”

“but her need to share the photo with me [...] smiling and looking at it, smiling and looking at me looking at it, me smiling and looking at her looking at it, which is simply called sharing what we love, what we find beautiful, which is an ethics.”

— Ross Gay, The Book of Delights

“He’s got a fever. He’s all alone. So I’m gonna buy him something to eat.” “The congee downstairs is quite good.” “He doesn’t want congee.” “What does he want?” “Can’t taste anything so he wants sesame syrup.” [...] “What are you cooking?” “I had a sudden craving for sesame syrup.”

“Why did you call me at the office today?” “I had nothing to do. I wanted to hear your voice.”

— In the Mood for Love, dir. Wong Kar-Wai

— Danusha Laméris, “Small Kindnesses”

“It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.”

— Laura McBride, We Are Called to Rise

“I’ve never told you this,” she said. “But there’s something about taking the cart back instead of leaving it in the parking lot. I don’t know when this came to me; it was a few years ago. There’s a difference between leaving it where you empty it and taking it back to the front of the store. It’s significant.” “Because somebody has to take them in.” “Yes. And if you know that, and you do it for that one guy, you do something else. You join the world…You move out of your isolation and become universal.”

— Andre Dubus, “Out of the Snow”

“It’s true that, in Vietnamese, we rarely say I love you, and when we do, it is almost always in English. Care and love, for us, are pronounced clearest through service: plucking white hairs, pressing yourself on your son to absorb a plane’s turbulence and, therefore, his fear. Or now—as Lan called to me, “Little Dog, get over here and help me help your mother.” And we knelt on each side of you, rolling out the hardened cords in your upper arms, then down to your wrists, your fingers. For a moment almost too brief to matter, this made sense—that three people on the floor, connected to each other by touch, made something like the word family.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel

— Ada Limón, from “The Great Blue Heron of Dunbar Road”

“I’m doing a balancing act with a stack of fresh fruit in my basket. I love you. I want us both to eat well.”

— Christopher Citro, from “Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled WIth Shrieks”

“One of the primary ways we connect with each other is by eating together. Some of the connection happens simply by being in the same place at the same time and sharing the same food, but we also connect through specific actions, such as serving food to one another or making toasts: ‘May I offer you some potatoes?’ ‘Here’s to your health and happiness.’ Much of our fundamental well-being comes from the basic reassurance that there is a place for us at the table. We belong here. Here we are served and we serve others. Here we give and receive sustenance.”

— Edward Espe Brown, Tomato Blessings and Radish Teaching

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.”

“Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it, if I don’t keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.”

“it is a serious thing

just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”

— Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays / from “Invitation”

— Wendy Cope, “The Orange”

“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye, “Gate A4″

“Then there are the things, if you are particularly lucky, that this person has done for you while you’re away: how in the pantry, in the freezer, in the refrigerator will be all the food you like to eat, the scotch you like to drink. There will be the sweater you thought you lost the previous year at the theater, clean and folded and back on its shelf. There will be the shirt with its dangling buttons, but the buttons will be sewn back in place. There will be your mail stacked on one side of his desk; there will be a contract for an advertising campaign you’re going to do in Germany for an Austrian beer, with his notes in the margin to discuss with your lawyer. And there will be no mention of it, and you will know that it was done with genuine pleasure, and you will know that part of the reason—a small part, but a part—you love being in this apartment and in this relationship is because this other person is always making a home for you, and that when you tell him this, he won’t be offended but pleased, and you’ll be glad, because you meant it with gratitude.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

#this is a mim supremacy account #w #compilation #the precious intimacy of little things #john berger #hanya yanagihara #naomi shihab nye #wendy cope #mary oliver #ada limón #ocean vuong #danusha laméris #ross gay

[yacoka]

FIFTY FIRST DATES, AND THE FIRST REAL ONE

──⊱ for my one and only, wee to my woo, love of my life — @doughnuts-5ever

pairing — kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre — angst but it ends very fluffily i swear on my doggie socks

beta(s) — @sugasugawarau @taiyaki 

kisses — hello i am,,, not back,, but here's a little thing that i did for my cow and it might as well be a valentine's day fic bc why not xoxo see y'all in a few days (psps sorry to everyone to has messaged me on discord or here or anything, i haven't been on tumblr or discord in a bit i'll be back sOON)

You sat at the dinner table, staring down at the meal laid out before you. It was by far the best thing you had ever tasted, and yet, it was bland. So, so bland and bitter, that you hated it. Nevermind that it was your favorite dish made by your mother the other day, nevermind that you always loved it better as leftovers. It tasted bland and bitter, and you couldn’t help but wish what he was eating tonight was too.

It was pathetically selfish of you - you knew. But how could you not feel that way when the man you loved was out on a date with some stranger he met on the internet? He had left the house in a burgundy button up that looked like it was made for him, paired with black slacks that made him look like it should be illegal for him to be out in the streets without a warning sign.

It was his first attempt at online dating after having miserably failed at picking up girls from school. And now here he was, out with some chick with a name you could barely pronounce, and the stereotypical description of her bubbly personality that loved nature and volunteered at the animal shelter. Oh, and lets not forget, she’s a gemini!

You rolled your eyes, stabbing your fork into the now cold dish. Stupid boy, with his stupid date, with that stupid red shirt, and with his stupid personality.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. That’s what you were for falling in love with a boy who never saw you for more than another pity project, the pathetic little thing that needed friends but never had any guts to make one until he came along.

You picked up the container of food and stalked over to the bin, dropping its contents into it. You weren’t going to eat it anyways, especially not after how you had  massacred it.

After you left the dirty container in the sink, you flopped onto the couch, sighing heavily as you sank into the worn sofa. It smelled like Kuroo’s body soap, though from the amount of time he’s spent lying on this couch, it was to be expected.

You leaned forward, hand outstretched for the remote. Just a little further, a little more-

The door slammed open and you lurched forward, landing on the ground with a thud.

“It was horrible. She came into the restaurant and she looked amazing, but then we started talking and oh god, I don’t think I can be with someone who thinks that only the rich should be allowed to do whatever they want just because they’re rich.”

“Well hello to you too, Kuroo,” you grumbled from your spot on the floor, flipping yourself over to face the ceiling.

He jumped over the sofa arm, landing perfectly on it like he always does.

“I mean, how can I accept that? That’s just morally wrong and if her basic morals are wrong, what about other more important things? I walked out right after that, that doesn’t make me an asshole right?” His head popped out, brown eyes staring down at you. The cologne he wore tonight drifted down, washing over you and clouding your mind with its deliciously warm and thick and-

“I mean I did pay for the meal before I left,” he mutters, dropping his head onto the cushion, voice muffled slightly by it. “So it counters the fact that I left, right?”

The sigh that begs to pull its way out is caught by you, stuffed into the depths of your stomach in exchange for a soft pat on his head and words you know he wants to hear.

“No, you’re not an asshole. Maybe that was an asshole move, but that doesn’t make you one. Besides, her lack of a moral compass cancels out any asshole you might’ve been.” You combed through his hair, drawing it out of the careful style he had forced his bed head into. “This hairstyle though? It makes you look like an extreme asshole.”

Kuroo scoffed indignantly and his head popped back over the edge once more, brown eyes glaring at you. “I worked hard on this!”

“Doesn’t make you look any less of an ass.”

“The date was incredible.” He sighed dreamily, leaning against the counter with his chin in his hand. The temptation to throw your fork at him increased, and it took every sane cell in your body to set it down on the table instead, albeit rougher than you intended.

If Kuroo noticed your intensity, he didn’t mention it, instead continuing on to sigh and gush about the wonderful date he had last night with this amazing woman at this delicious place.

For someone who was incredibly perceptive, he could be incredibly dense as well. You wonder at his obliviousness to your feelings, to the poorly concealed hurt that peeked through in every little move of your body.

All you wanted to do was scream at him, to wake up, open his eyes, and see you.

You, who had been there since the beginning, who had watched him grow from the shy, introverted kid to this cunning, charismatic man who excelled and went beyond what had been expected of him. You, who had seen him at his worst, and still stayed, patching him up and helping him to his feet. You, who knew who he was to the core, every detail, every fact about him.

But it seemed he didn’t know you as well.

“That’s great,” you interrupt him. He glanced at you, surprised by your abruptness. “I gotta go get some work done, I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning.”

“Wait, did I do something wrong?” He called after your retreating back. “Hey, I’m sorry if I pissed you off.”

“No, it’s nothing!” You slammed the door shut, slumping against it. God, you were a fool to have fallen for an idiot. Dashing away the burning tears that slip down your cheeks, you gathered just enough strength to crawl beneath onto your bed and beneath the covers.

The cat plushie he got you a long time ago sits at the bottom of your bed, staring at you. You glared at it, before giving in and grabbing it, tucking it into your chest. Stupid Kuroo with his stupid face and this stupid cat. You hate him so much.

(No, you don’t, you really don’t. And it hurts so much more to know that.)

You’re back here once more, glaring daggers at the clock. The slow ticking of the hands pisses you off, every second gone is a second more Kuroo’s out there, with another girl, on another date. With the number of bad first dates he’s gone one, you’d think he’d give up. But no, this man was persistent, and he wanted to “experience life!”

Well, he was going to experience death soon if he didn’t come back home soon. Your vigil continued, all the way till three am where you gave up and went to bed, your exhaustion outweighing your annoyance and worry. He’s a grown man, there was no need to worry about him.

Honestly, you didn’t know how you got here. To this suffocating silence that rested upon your chest, pinning you down as you listened to the sounds of cars rushing past and the occasional laughter that seeped through the walls. To where you spent your nights alone in your shared apartment, waiting for Kuroo to come home from yet another date. Like some married person waiting on their cheating husband, you smiled bitterly at the ceiling.

Only you weren’t married to him, and you certainly weren't his anything.

If only you were less of a fool, you might’ve moved on long ago. Maybe you might have even found someone who might be just as in love with you as you were with them. You might have already been in a happy relationship, going out on dates, spending your nights with them, being loved. But you were a fool, a fool in love with another fool.

So you continued to lie there, the infinite weight of your one-sided love pressing you into the ground, holding you prisoner to Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Hey, do you wanna go get dinner?” Kuroo called out. “There’s nothing left in the fridge, maybe we could get groceries after.”

You ignored him, focusing on the dimly lit screen of your phone. There hadn't been a proper conversation with him in a while, and you were content to leave it that way if only it meant you didn’t have to hear about his dates with those seemingly perfect women and their seemingly perfect food.

Kuroo called out once more, and you burrowed beneath the blanket, curling up into a ball.

No, you did not want to get dinner with the man you’re so desperately in love with it almost hurts to even breathe in his presence.

The door creaked open, and you could see his shadow stretch out across your bedroom floor, casting its shape upon your walls. It took everything in you to tear your eyes away from it and back onto your phone, though it lingered in your peripheral, taunting you with the way it twisted and leaned closer to you, the scent of his cologne growing stronger by the second, until it almost felt like he wa-

“Why are you ignoring me?” Kuroo whined into your ear as he draped his body over yours, strands of inky hair tickling your cheek.

“Ku-roo-” you gasped out, fighting to twist your body out from under him. “Can’t- bre-breathe.”

He groaned into your ear, dropping even more pressure down. “Don’t care, you ignored me.” He sulked as he burrowed his head into the crook of your neck.

A blind kick to his legs has him flopping off you, spread eagle on your too tiny bed.

“You’re too heavy to be pulling this crap,” you snapped at him.

“And you’re too old to be ignoring me when something’s wrong,” he shot back just as fast, and you were left stunned. To be fair, you should have expected it, Kuroo being one of the most perceptive people you’ve ever met.

(Not perceptive enough to see the deep feelings you harbored for him though.)

“So what’s wrong?”

‘Everything,’ you wanted to scream. ‘You, those stupid dates, my feelings, every god damned thing on earth.’

Instead, what came out was: “I’m just stressed. Work, you know?” You shot him an unconvincing smile.

Kuroo frowned, his lips pinching as he stared at you. He knew better than to push you though, and settled with a curt nod, a forced smile slipping onto his face. “So…. dinner?”

You sighed in exasperation, and let him yank you up and out of bed. The way his stiff smile melted into an easy, fond one was enough to wash away your hesitance, and temporarily dam up the river of doubts that threatened to drown you.

Just for tonight, you’ll enjoy his presence, before he gets caught up in another’s embrace.

(You let yourself get swept up in him again, chasing after the ebb of his warmth when his encompassing presence surges away from you. But you find that you don’t really mind drowning in him, not when the peak of the surf reveals such beautiful sights in the form of lazy smirks and sly hazel eyes.)

It’s another failed date that sends him home in a fitted suit, one that you had turned your nose up at. Kuroo doesn’t understand what’s going wrong, why he never felt like the date was right. The people he had gone on dates with were nothing short of amazing, with the exception of a few. But they just lacked… something. And so he always leaves them with a grateful goodbye and an apologetic smile, returning home to the apartment he shared with you alone.

He’s spent nights and days trying to convince himself that they were an ideal candidate to date, listing out their positive notes to you, and somehow he can’t seem to find the thing that made him just click with them. It’s bordering on frustrating, really, and Kuroo is more than ready to relieve some of the building tension in his body by hanging out with you.

His entrance home is muffled by the sounds of music blasting through the apartment, and it’s a wonder the neighbours haven’t complained yet. He’s about to call out for you as he drops keys on the coffee table, one hand loosening his tie when he catches sight of you dancing in the kitchen.

And everything clicks in place.

It’s a stunning clarity that leaves him reeling, and he wonders how he could have missed it in the first place. It’s a simple truth: Kuroo Tetsurou was completely, utterly, irrevocably in love with you. And it only took him fifty bad first dates to realize that the only person he wanted to go on a date with was you.

Objectively speaking, you look like a complete mess, but to him, the sight of you twirling around in sock clad feet in an oversized shirt with a lame chemistry joke printed across it was infinitely better than any of the people he had gone on dates with. You’re absolutely perfect to him, yelling out lyrics to a song that’s blasting at full volume from the living room.

There isn’t a moment’s hesitation as he surges forward, a force tugging him to you. And like just like two opposing magnets, you spin around just in time for him to collide into you, his head hazy as his mouth crashes down upon yours.

You taste of leftover pizza and something sweet, and he thinks it might be the best damn thing he’s ever tasted. The shocked gasp that escapes you is swallowed by Kuroo as he deepens the kiss, arms winding around you to pull you impossibly closer. And he isn’t sure why he’s so surprised when you reciprocate the kiss, melting into him as your hands grip the lapels of his blazer.

It feels like an eternity spent wrapped around each other, the beat of the music matching the rhythm of your hearts, and the warmth of each other.

Kuroo pulls away first, only because rationality comes sinking back into his muddled brain, and there’s a brief moment of panic when he stares down at your flushed face, lips swollen from his sudden attack. But the absolute relief and love in your eyes has him calming down, and the soft peck you deliver next settles those doubts.

“It’s been you all this while,” his voice cracks, and he winces. “You’re my best friend, and I’m in love with you.”

The smile that breaks out across your face is everything he’s been looking for, and he feels like a fool for being so blind. You’re everything he’s wanted, and everything he’s needed.

“I’m in love with you.” He repeats louder, an incredulous laugh bubbling out of him. “I’m in love with you!”

“I’m in love with you too!” You yell back, and in his excitement, he can’t help but twirl you around, and you burst into giggles. There isn’t a better sound in the world than this, he thinks.

“Be mine.” He catches you by the shoulders, face alight with adoration.

“I’ve been yours for a long time now.” Your answer fills him with a rush of delight and guilt, and he’s ready to spill apologies and promises to make it up to you when you yank on his tie hard, pulling him into another kiss. Every unspoken word, every drop of emotion that has ever begged to be exchanged between you two is said with a simple kiss.

Kuroo thanks the heavens for you, for blessing his life with someone who is more than he deserves. The weight of you in his arms is a comforting pressure, and there he has his last first date, at the beginning of a new chapter in the story of him and you, eating leftovers and dancing to songs of your childhood.

He’s in love with you, and you are with him too.

#kuroo testsuro #kuroo x reader #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

[imagines4thefandoms]

The Man the World Forgot

Part 1

summery: Chris was living the life. He was a famous movie star with all of his films a blockbuster hit. Millions of people around the world knew his name; Chris was the most famous person in the world. But that all changed in a matter of seconds. When Chris wakes up one morning and the world has no idea who he is. Not even his family and close friends. Chris Evans no longer exist, or more exactly he never did. No one remembered him, no one except Scarlet. Scarlet McLaughlin was just a normal college student just trying to make it to graduation. She discovers that she is the one who remembers who Chris Evans is. Together they try and work out why the world doesn’t remember the movie star. Will they be able to fix the movie stars life or will he just stay forgotten in the minds of his loved ones?

word count: 2.2K

Chis Evans’ Saturday night was just a regular Saturday night while away for work: he called Scott to talk to Dodger, went for a quick run before eating in the hotel restaurant. He watched the couple sitting next to him celebrate something and grew a bit jealous. All he wanted in life to find the right person, settle down, and have kids. Chris just never met the right person.

After finishing his meal, the lonely star went back to his room to get ready for his busy day of shooting in the morning. Normally he would at least explore the city a little but he wasn’t in the mood to explore the beautiful Big Easy tonight. Before the elevator doors closed a pair of newly weds game in and were giggling in the corner. Evans tired to hid as to not draw attention to himself but the couple were too entranced with each other to notice that there was someone else in the elevator.

When the now suffocating metal box reached his floor, Chris exited and walked to his room wondering when he would ever have what they had. He kicked his shoes off as soon as his hotel door closed behind him and got ready for bed. Once he got in bed, he decided against watch tv and just let the noise of the city ease him into slumber. But before he could close his eyes, he saw a light streak across the night sky. ‘A shooting star’ he thought. Chris closed his eyes and made a wish.

“I wish I could be normal and find the love of my life,” he whispered before finally going to sleep.

At midnight the sky exploded with light. The entire city of New Orleans went quite for just a second then roared back to life as if being rebooted. Little did the actor know that his innocent wish full of love and hope had come true but has also brought a twist.

Chris woke up to his alarm blaring at six in the morning for his call time at seven thirty. He has awoken with a new cheery disposition than when he went to bed. Chris had a feeling that today was going to be a great day. He was about to call Scott to talk to Dodge and his brother but decided to take a shower first cause he knew he would be on that call for a while.

After his shower, Chris put on simple jeans and a t-shirt then grabbed his wallet and phone to head to set. The bipolar southern weather had subsided and left a nice cool day, causing the actor to decide to walk the few blocks to set. While on his walk Chris noticed that he was actually relaxed. There was no people with cameras following him nor fans stopping him for a picture. He chalked it up to people still being hung over from their night on Bourbon Street. Chris then remembered that he still has to call Scott. He took out his phone and pressed on his brother’s name in his contacts and waited for him to pick up.

“Hello,” Scott answered in a confused tone.

“Hey man, I just called to say good morning to Dodge. Did I wake you,” Chris asked hoping that he didn’t. He sometime forgot that not everyone is on his sleep schedule.

“Who is this,” Scott replied.

Chis laughed thinking that this was one of his brothers pranks or that he had woken his brother up and he was so fresh from sleep that he was confused. “Scott its me. Are you hung over?” Chris asked as he stopped at a cross walk.

“Hi me but I still don’t know who this is. How did you get this number? You can’t just call me to talk to my dog,” Scott said in a slightly irritated tone.

Chris really thought that his brother was milking this prank. Which was fine. “Scott already very funny its Chris. Your brother. Now can I talk to MY dog before I head on set.”

“Look I don’t know who this is but I don’t have a brother. Don’t call here again,” Scott said before hanging up.

Chis looked at his phone after his brother hung up just to make sure he called the right person. He decided against calling him again just to check up on him partly because he wanted to wait til he had a lunch break in hopes that Scott would give up on this prank and partly because he was at his filming location.

He walked up to the security guard and gave him a smile as he walked by, but the guard stopped him. “Name,” the guard asked.

Evans wasn’t use to not being recognized but he chalked it to being protocol. He gave the guard his name and id and waited til he check is clipboard of approved people on set. “Your not on the list,” the guard replied handing back the id.

“There has got to be some mistake,” Chris said slightly annoyed, “Im the lead role.”

“You are not on the list, which means you don’t get in.”

Chris was now more annoyed so he took out his phone and called his agent Charlie to straighten this whole mess out. Once Charlie picked up the phone Chris skipped the pleasantries and just tole him how he’s not being let on set and that he’s about to be late.

“Who is this,” Charlie asked after Chris went on his little rant.

“Charlie, its Chris. Chris Evans.”

“Um i’m not in the office today but if you make an appointment with my assistant we can look into maybe representing you. I don’t know how you got this number but i’m going to give you my assistant’s and you just make an appointment,” Charlie replied in a professional manor.

“Charlie. Im already your client. Did Scott put you up to this,” Chris laughed at the extent of his brother’s prank.

“I know all of my clients and a Chris Evans is not one of them. Im sorry I think you have the wrong number. Have a great weekend,” Charlie replied hanging up the phone.

Chris was starting to really not like this prank. He had to be on set in five minutes, but his anxiety of the whole situation was getting really out of hand so he went for a walk around the city. Then he will be late to set and Charlie will call him back to apologize making the whole prank thing to rest.

Even though the city isn’t at its bullies at seven thirty in the morning Chris couldn’t deny the cozy and exciting atmosphere of it. Once again on his walk Chris was not bothered by fans nor photographers and for a quick second he wondered how extensive was the plank his brother was pulling. He pasted a Café Du Monde and realized that he had planned on eating breakfast on set. This place was on a list of places Anthony had told Chris to visit while he was in New Orleans. These beignets were supposedly the best things ever so Chris took his friends advice and decided to have an order for breakfast.

He sat down at a table outside so he could still enjoy the scenery of the old beautiful city and waited for a waitress to come over. Chris was entranced by some street players when his waitress came over and greeted him a good morning. He looked over and saw a young girl about seventeen in white button-up shirt with black pants, black bowtie, and a long green apron. The actor braced himself for the questions and her starstruck demeanor.

“Are you,” she started to say as she grabbed her notebook out of the apron.

“Chris Evans yes, how are you,” he said expecting her question of a picture and autograph. But it never came instead introduced herself and told him she was asking if he was ready to order.

This took Chris by surprise. Usually you women this this waitress would be hounding him for pictures and autographs and question but she did. He wanted to chalk it up to her being professional but there was a tiny voice inside his head the told him it was something else.

“Sorry um ill take an order of beignets and a café au Lait,” Chris ordered thankful for the pressure from Anthony for him to pronounce every thing he is going to eat in New Orleans correctly so he doesn’t look stupid. The Waitress gave him a nod and a smile before to put in his order.

The waitress came back three minutes later with the coffee and a plate with three beignets. She placed the items on the table and gave him the line of ‘hope you enjoy’ then went back to work. After he took one bite, he realized that Anthony was right about how delicious these things were. Chris was about to text his friend about how much he enjoyed the fried doughy treat but decided against because he knew Mackie was in the west coast for his film and its six am in Hollywood, also he didn’t want to take the chance that Scott had gotten him in on the prank as well.

For the first time in forever Chris Evans wanted to be attacked by paparazzi  and to be swarmed by fans getting too close for comfort. So he did the only think he could think of. Once he finish his breakfast he paid and left a generous tip to the young highs cool student and walked to the place where he knew there would be people at eight in the morning: the Flea Market down the road.

Once he arrived to the Flea Market, he was overwhelmed over the amount of people there. Given that it was eight in the morning on a Saturday it wasn’t weird for this many people to be there, but the sight gave Chris a little bit of anxiety. He was starting to second guess being around so many people in this publish setting just to get recognized.

But once again while he was looking at all the different booths, no one stopped him, no one took his picture, and no one whispered about him behind his back. Chris decided to get Scott something from the flea market in hopes that it would make him fell bad for this prank; Chris had also gotten some souvenirs for the rest of his family while at the flea market as well. Once he was finished with his shopping, the actor headed back to his hotel room. He wanted to get some rest and just wake up from this horrible day.

On his walk back to the hotel, Chris thought that he should enjoy this albeit terrible anonymity he seems to have. He walked a little slower and just took in the sights of the historical buildings he was passing. And while he has heard Anthony complain about the streets being awful in the city he admired the imperfection of the cracks and the potholes, something that natives never have like.

He stoped at Jackson square and enjoyed one street performer groups’ show and looked around at the art work hanging on the fence. Some where simple and others where very detailed but all captured the story of the city that had persevered though many hardships. And after gazing upon what is St. Louis Cathedral, Evans really headed back to his hotel room.

This time the buildings were not the things that caught his attention, but the families that were out exploring the city as he was. One that stuck out in particular was a family with a small girl about the age of five who kept asking her father if they could take a horse ride. She was pointing to the white horse who was standing at the corner to the street waiting for the next people he was going to give a ride too. The father and mother exchanged looked and then agreed which caused the little girl to jump up and down with joy.

The sight made Chris’s heart swell. In that moment he didn’t see that family, he saw the family he hope to have in the future. He saw his littler girl jumping for joy over a horse while him and his wive looked upon her with such adoration. The family disappeared into the horse drawn carriage and Chris’s mind was back on his bed.

Chris was almost at his hotel room when he felt like he was being watched, which on a normal day wasn’t weird but on a day like today it was. He stopped and looked around him to see where this feeling was coming from. That when he noticed someone on the phone across the street staring straight at him. Chris knew that look on her face. Its the face fans get when they see him. This girl knows who he is. She is the only person who does. He knew he had to ask her why.

Part 2

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #the man the world forgot

[kickingitwithkirk]

Deuxième Omega: Part II

Summary: Jensen is not dealing well with his unexpected divorce and before the ink is even dry, he is pushed into another union with a complete stranger.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Omega!OFC

Word Count: 2859

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, angry Jensen, cursing, illness, arranged marriage, divorces, talk of Alpha dominance over Omega, suspected eating disorder, past abuses, vehicle drama

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get this part out, my antique laptop decided to eat over 2,000 words and have had to piece back together from memory so hopefully it makes sense.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles family. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. 

Part I

*Supernatural doesn’t end in season 15 and some dates/events have been altered to fit the story.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

The Next Day

Jensen waves his hand around again at that buzzing insect driving him crazy. He’s finally conscious enough to recognize the sound, it wasn’t a bug but his phone vibrating incessantly. Picking his head up and instantly regretting it starts patting around the bed for his phone.

“lo...”

“Are you still drunk?” A deep, honey-whiskey and way too damn loud for the morning voice barked at him.

“Jared?”

“No, fucking Misha.”

“Too early for your shit Jay...”

“Dude, it’s three-thirty in the afternoon.”

“WHAT!” Jensen yells sitting up too fast, the pain ricocheting throughout his head sends him flying off the bed, barely making it to the toilet before regurgitating everything he ingested last night. The toilet automatically flushes as he sits back against the bathtub groaning like a dying water buffalo.

“Really wish you'd hung up before sharing that,” Jared quips in a queasy voice, “I’m gonna regret this but Face Time me.”

Jensen cracked his eyes open enough to locate the button and tapping it Jared appears dressed in his running gear with a bandana holding his hair back. “No offense but you look like hammered shit. I was gonna call earlier but Gen threatened to have my left nut if I did.”

Jensen grunts and closes his eyes against the bright outdoor light emanating from the phone.

“Are you…” Jensen tunes him out for a minute then,“ ‘cause there’s something you need to know about, it’s really bad.”

He opens his eyes and it’s worse than he could have imagined going by the expression on Jared’s face.

“One of your clan sold you out, got it all on cellphone video, social media’s blowing up. Hell, even Fox News Channel picked it up.”

Jensen listens to the description of his expressions at the surprise traditional ceremony, his drunken stumbling around the reception with his new wife submissively following, his scoffing at the speeches during the reception and ignoring his silent, veil wife sitting next to him.

“My favorite bit was Alan and Josh carrying you out of the can.”

Jared's expression turned serious, “People are talking, we can't cover for you anymore. I got a text from higher ups cause no one could get hold of you for obvious reasons. PR’s gotta get ahead of this.”

“I’m a fuckup.”

“Yeah but we still love you. So, what's her name?”

Jensen licked his lips, biting the bottom one.

“Please tell me you know her name.”

“I..I don't even know what she looks like Jay.”

Jared ran his hand over his mouth, “The first thing you do is get up, take a shower and brush your goddamn teeth. Then you apologize, fucking supplicate yourself, to your new wife..unless you’ve already decided to put her aside.”

Jensen's head snapped up unbelieving that his friend, the man who was his brother in every way except blood, could think that of him.

“You really believe I could do that?”

Jared smiled, “No, you're too good of a man, an Alpha, to do that. I want you to remember one thing, in all this, she’s not the one who screwed you over.”

***

Jensen stepped out the shower forgoing shaving since the show was on a short break. He wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at this haggard expression and developing beer gut. I’ve got to get back on my exercise routine. Makeup and wardrobe could only mask so much.

Reaching for his bath kit he knocked a hand towel off the counter. Bending over to retrieve it he noticed a shoe with netting in the wastebasket. Pulling it out he saw a brown smear inside one of the heels, remembering how much trouble she had with them last night and made a mental note to inquire about her feet.

Washing his hands and searching through his kit realizing he’d forgotten his toothbrush. Opening on the cabinets he located the complementary ones. As he’s brushing Jensen sees another brush sitting in a glass by the other sink with a neatly folded hand towel and hanging washcloth.

Huh, she must have forgotten hers too.

Tossing his kit bag in the suitcase he dressed in a pair of well worn jeans and a T-shirt. Quietly entering the common area the curtains set open just enough for him to see her curled up on the couch, still in her wedding dress, asleep. He walked over to check on her when a knock at the door made her bolt upright.

“It's room service, I asked them to text so not to wake you.” He answered the door and had a brief word with the waiter who apologized, the ticket didn’t say not to knock. They deposited a coffee decanter, several covered dishes, bottles of water and left taking the cart with them.

Jensen sat down and before he could ask how she took her coffee, his wife scrambled off the couch and was kneeling at his feet, head bowed and hands folded in her lap.

“What are you doing?” He asked incredulously, having never seen anyone do this before.

“Awaiting you instructions Alpha.”

“Instruc...get up!” He gripped her upper arm, shocked at how far his fingers wrapped around it and helped her to the other chair. Sitting back down Jensen got his first look at his new wife.

Sleep tousled, dark blonde hair frame cheekbones overly prominent for the shape of her face, wide set eyes a blue-grey color with amber rings around the pupils. Her lips were full, the bottom lip slightly off center. She was not the Hollywood standard of beauty he was used to, and if compared to them, she’d only be considered moderately pretty.

“I was only doing what is expected…”

“Kneeling at my feet like an obedient dog!” He barked as she said, “..of the Omega.”

“What’s expected?”

“In the book..”

“Please look at me when speaking.” She raises her eyes but doesn’t meet his, “..it states that the Omega is subservient and the act of humbling ourselves shows respect for the Alpha, as is their due.’

Jensen sat back shocked, running both of his hands through his still damp hair, making it stand up to resemble a hedgehog. He was in over his head and, for one of the few times in his life, didn’t know what to do and the first person he would have turned to for advice had banned all communication.

He took a deep breath to refocus and leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs to look her in the eye, “I need you to forget what I said last night. I..I’m angry, feels like I..we..were ambushed by this situation. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sincerely sorry.”

“I don’t understand, are you apologizing to me?”

“It’s what people do when they’ve done something wrong and what I did was unforgivable. I want to make it up to you if you’ll let me and hopefully we can make a go of this.”

She looked at him dubiously but nodded once.

***

Jensen finished the last dregs of his coffee while packing, having decided to head back to Austin tonight. Clif had texted him he was ready whenever they were.

Sitting down on the bed he listened to the running shower and reaching his phone picked it up to start recording a video message.

He apologized for his atrocious behavior the last two years, asking the fans not to take it out on the show, this was all on him. To his coworkers for having to cover for him, they should have never been put in that position and if he had better character they wouldn’t have had too.

He next apologized to his family for his inexcusable behavior last night, which should have stayed private within their clan, and fully accepted his banishment by the clan leader, his father, for however long he deemed fit.

He lastly apologized to his new wife, they were irrecoverably tied together and he’d do whatever she demanded from him to make up for the horrendous treatment he’d shown her and hoped she’d give him a chance to make a go of their marriage.

He uploaded the video to his few online accounts and turned the phone off, wearily running a hand over his face. Getting up to take one last look he found his jacket from the wedding hanging in the closet.

Folding it he hears a crinkling noise and reaches into the inner pocket finding the marriage certificate. Tossing the jacket on the bed he unrolls the certificate reading his wife’s name Iseult.

“It’s pronounced Ee-sult Alpha.”

Jensen's head jerked up in surprise, “Hey, um, we're heading out as soon as you're ready.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll need you to button my dress Alpha.” She said repacking his bath kit she'd borrowed.

Jensen furrowed his brow, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in something else, I mean, I’m telling you what to wear but it’s a three hour drive to my..our home.”

Iseult looked down playing with one of the pearlescent buttons, “When I married my hus..ex husband, our prenup stated that I only got what I had in my possession at the time. Apparently, he disposed of my things at some point,” she fanned out the shirt, “this dress, shoes and veil, your mother purchased them otherwise the media would have had a lot more to exploit at my..our expense Alpha.”

“Let me give you something of mine.”

“Anything of yours will swallow me, you're much more solid. There is a Walmart on..” she abruptly stopped at Jensen's raised eyebrow, “I’m sorry Alpha, I overstepped my place.” She bowed her head and hunched her shoulders, exuding the scent of fear as if she is expecting punishment from him.

What had happened to this woman to make her believe she should cower and gravel? Jensen manages to keep his anger in check, not wanting her to be more scared of him than she was, thinking who the hell is her ex-husband and what had he done to make her like this?

Jensen slowly walked behind her and gripping the fabric was once again dismayed at how prominent her shoulder blades were, his gut telling him her slenderness wasn't something natural.

As he fastened the buttons he spoke in the gentle voice he used when Jared's daughter Odette was upset, “If you can survive till tomorrow I’ll take you to get whatever you need.” She nodded once.

“Can I make one request Alpha?”

“You don’t have to request anything, just ask.”

“I have a prescription I need refilled, there’s a pharmacy on Wilmont, it’s on the way.”

He plucked the jacket off the bed and held it open, “Please, it's getting chilly.” She slid her arms into the sleeves and Jensen saw she was right about being swallowed. He put on his ball cap and headed out.

When they got off the elevators Jensen went deeper into the hotel. He stopped at an employees only entrance off the kitchen and knocked twice. A double knock answered and he pushed it open to reveal a waiting SUV. He introduced Clif and handed him the bag, taking it to the vehicle's rear and loaded it before getting back in.

The wind had started picking up ahead of the late autumn thunderstorm. Iseult grabbed her whipping hair in one hand and her skirt in the other as Jensen opened the back door.

“Iseult?”

“I was waiting for you Alpha, its proper etiquette.”

“I was raised it’s proper for a lady to enter first, please,” he held his hand out to her.

Iseult released her hair and hesitantly took his hand. Jensen felt a skittering sensation go up his spin as Iseult quivered, staring into his eyes as a whirling wind intermingled their scents, enthralling them.

Clif politely coughed, “We need to go before the bottom falls out.”

A tremendous thunderclap sent them scrambling into the car as the heavens let loose.

***

The trip to Austin was darker than usual, the weather slowing the drive back and with the incident at the pharmacy, Jensen still couldn’t believe it, refusing the prescription now that she was married to an Alpha, needing his verbal consent.

Clif interceded before he went off about the subjugation of Omegas in modern society, reminding him they were in predominantly conservative Texas, where this thinking was considered normal, not California.

Jensen glanced over to see Iseult staring out the window when his phone vibrated. Picking it up from the cup holder he saw a text from Josh.

>Jenny, know I’m not supposed to be in touch but call me!!! Need to know the shit going down here.<

Josh picked up on the first ring, “Man, all hell breaking loose. Your wife's ex didn't notify his clan that he was divorcing or remarrying her and they’ve filed an appeal with the Pack council to get her back.”

“We were married in the Traditional...”

“The fuck Jenny, did living in La La land make you forget everything? Your the second son of a clan leader, you know Pack law supersedes all federal, state and religious laws. They’ve dug up some obscure sub-clause that states a clan has first right to remarry an Omega within the clan and if they don’t whoever takes them must pay settlements.”

“What are settlements?”

“Has your brain fallen out of your ass? The bride price.”

“Josh, that's insane, it's 2020....”

“No shit Sherlock, but this is Texas. Fuck, dads back already. I’m gonna leave my phone on, keep your goddamn mouth shut or it's gonna be my ass too!”

Jensen can’t make out anything then his mother clearly says, “..they are asking what for her?”

“Ten million.”

“Your shitting me!”

“Joshua, language young man.”

“Five of it’s compensation for damages done to the Omega.”

“What damages? Jenny’s got a temper, what Alpha doesn’t, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he was forced to.”

Alan cleared his throat in the manner Jensen had come to know that something’s making him uncomfortable. “It seems the Omega was..unsullied when she married her ex-husband.”

“Holy shit! You mean she’s never been with an Alpha before Jensen?”

“Joshua, I will not tolerate that language and we will absolutely not discuss your brothers new wife’s...virtue.”

Jensen hears the tinkling of glass, “Donna, did you know about any of this?”

“Well..no, of course not.” Her answer wasn’t very convincing.

“Donna, what are you not saying?” Alan’s Alpha voice resonated, he only used it when his mate was being evasive about something she’d done.

“When Danneel wasn’t willing to reproduce for Jensen I put out some feelers about finding him an Omega…”

“Jesus Fucking Christ! Even if it is acceptable for Jensen to have a second wife with Danneel being a Beta, he would never agree to it.”

“I’m not telling you again about your language. I might have, at one of my appointments, casually indicated to Brent that I wanted an Omega like his.”

Who the hell is this Brent?

“Wait, Brent Worthington?!”

Jensen dropped his phone. It smacked against his other hand turning on the speaker allowing everyone in the car to hear.

“Donna, have you any idea what you’ve done?”

“I never thought he'd actually offer her, they always seemed so happy together.”

“He took your casual indication as an actual offer for his wife. You do understand that while we have to deal with each other they are still our rivals.”

The Ackles and Worthingtons were two of the original founding clans of the Dallas Pack, and rivals for centuries. Iseult had been married to the only Beta son of Abraham, the Clans Alpha, like Alan.

Josh’s voice shook as he spoke, “Mom, if the council decides to return her do you have any idea what they’ll do if Jensen’s already mated and claimed her?”

There’s a ringing phone and Alan answered, his voice loud then faint, apparently pacing around the room.

In the SUV dim interior Jensen could see Iseult shaking, awaiting the decision.

“The council sided with the Worthington's stating the law…”

Jensen’s inner Alpha raged, loosening a wrawl causing Clif to jerk the wheel, swerving across the wet lanes, throwing Jensen against the seat in front of him, landing on the floorboard before the vehicle was under control and stopped on the shoulder. Twisting around he sees Clif opening the back door checking on Iseult while Alan’s voice filled the otherwise silent SUV.

“...but taking into consideration today’s social climate they came back with the final decision since she remarried another clan leader's son her status is unchanged, so if we send her back there’s no penalty for damages. If we choose to keep her, it’s five million due to the Omegas age.”

“What did you tell them dad?”

“I told them we were keeping her, I won’t be the cause of anymore upheaval in my son's life. However,” Alan’s voice turned hard, “the council has ordered additional financial penalties set against both clan leaders for the transgressions committed by their families.”

“How much?”

“I paid twenty-five million for a Deuxième Omega.”

tbc

SPN: @donnaintx​​​​​​​

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva​​​​​​​

#alpha!jensen ackles x omega!ofc #alpha!jensen ackles #omega!ofc #alpha!jared padalecki #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #angst #alpha!jensen x omega

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Riddler part 2

Master List

Warnings:Sorry if the Spanish is wrong, I used goggle for all of it. Talks of domestic violence and family drama.

WC: 1360

Enjoy x

You were used to working over a weekend, it was nothing new. Rafael managed to get a warrant early Saturday morning. He brought it to you and Amanda and you both found that your prep worked the nights at all the bar’s all the victims were at the night they were all attacked. The pills Sonny found in his pocket matched all the blood tests of all the victims and the pills from the drink. You and Amanda made the arrest and he was being proceeded and arraigned that afternoon.

“I want you both in my office tomorrow” you were all standing outside court after the bartender had been remanded pending trial starting Monday.

“Really Barba, on a Sunday?” you complained.

“Yes, maybe if you staid home last night you would have a day off tomorrow” he gave you a smug look.

“A rapist would still be on the streets Barba if it wasn’t for us” you snapped back.

“My office tomorrow morning, 10 am”

You really didn’t mind, you had nothing better to do. You, Sonny and Amanda usually ended up at some sports bar drinking cheap beer and too many slices of pizza if you guys weren’t working or with your cousins doing the same thing.

You woke up early and got ready for the day. You knew it was going to be a long one, so you decided to dress comfortable. You put a pair of black ¾ tights and a mustard slightly over size top with a pair of white converse runners, your hair in a high pony tail.

One of the best coffee shops in Manhattan was on the way, so you stopped and picked up yours and Amanda’s favourite and something for Rafael. Just as you ordered your phone rang, it was Amanda,

“Hey I’ am just getting coffee, are you there yet?”

“I’ am not coming”

“What, why?”

“My sister turned up last night, I told Barba”

“Fine” you huffed.

“Enjoy my coffee, I’ll see you tomorrow” and she hung up.

You made the short walk to Rafael’s office and walked in and tapped on the door, Rafael was behind his desk in a grey button down and black dress pants.

“You’re late”

“By 10 minutes, I was waiting for the coffee. Didn’t know I had to dress up for you Barba, must have missed that memo.” You laughed.

He looked up at you with a small tight smile, “Is there ever a time you’re not a smart ass or have a comeback?”

“I could ask you the same thing” you said back, he looked at you far from impressed

“Sorry Barba” you sat down at the chair in front of his desk, “I grew up with 12 boys, and I had to hold my own growing up. If I didn’t they would have walked all over me. It’s just part of my nature now I guess. They are all amazing now, but you know, the only girl in the middle of all these boys” you rolled your eyes

“Makes sense” he answered back “But anyway we aren’t here to get to know each other, you need to be ready for tomorrow”

“Are you sure Barba? How could you not want to get to know little old me” you giggled back at his frowning face.

--

The day was long and intense, you guys hadn’t had a break all day. It was starting to get dark outside when you threw your paper work onto the table and it slid straight off scattering all over the floor. You stood up and bent down to pick it all up. Rafael looked up and seen your ass up in the air. He moved himself slightly so he could get a good view when he felt all blood rush between his legs.

“Let’s order something to eat” he pulled himself away from looking at you before he got too carried away with himself.

“I have a better idea” you stood up fixing your paper work on the desk “Grab your coat Counselor”

You guys started to walk down the white steps onto the street, “Where are we going?”

“Trust me” you smiled back at him. You walked two blocks, him following. You guys made some small talk along the way.

Next thing you turned down a side street which was covered in fairy lights and sugar skull painting all over the walls. Spanish music was playing loud and you guys walked through the door to find a table.

“What is this place?” he asked you looking around in awe.

“Tres Calaveras (3 Skulls). Amanda and I found it one night. They have the best margaritas you will ever taste”

“Hablas Espanol?” (You Speak Spanish?)

“Si (Yes). My uncle married a Mexican lady, mi Tia (My Aunty), she used to look after us when we were little while the rest of the parents worked. She taught us” you smiled at him.

“Tengo Hambre” (I’ am Hungry)

“Yo tambien (Me Too), but I’ am pretty sure you can order for yourself Counselor, I know your Cuban”

“How did you know that?”

“Liv told me. I asked her when you pronounced a name one day in court. A Latin name”

You guys put in your order in Spanish and waited for the food and drinks to come.

“So 12 boys. Must have been full on”

“Yeah it was, salvaje (wild). I was the only child to my parents. My Dad has two brothers and a sister, and they all had 4 boys each. We were all born just years apart, I’ am number 6, so smack bang in the middle.”

“Wow”

“How about you?” you smiled at him.

“I ‘am an only child. I was brought up by my Mum and Abuela. My Dad” he looked down and balled his hands in to fists. You saw his reaction and put your hand over his fist and squeezed it. He looked up into your eyes and seen kindness. You gifted him another small smile.

“My Aunty got out of her marriage. 20 years she put up with it, no one had a clue. I think the last straw was when the baby of all of us didn’t get accepted to college after we all had. Somehow it was her fault like everything was. I was out with him trying to help him forget it when we came back and I opened the door and seen my Aunty was badly hurt, I called the police on him. She hide it so well and always told the boys not to say anything. After that she finally left and they moved in with us. She is remarried now and couldn’t be happier. Of course she still has the scares physically and mentally. But we all have a story right” you smiled wide at him.

Dinner and the drinks came and you guys continued to talk.

“So is there a Mrs Barba?” Rafael almost chocked on his food. “Sorry too forward” you laughed.

“Ah no. No to not being forward and no to a Mrs Barba” you weren’t sure if it was the margarita talking or what but looked at him,

“How can someone as good looking as you be single” he laughed out loud. “Honestly you’re a catch” you took another sip of your drink preparing for his comeback.

“Are you single?” he asked back.

“Very much so”

“Well I could say the same to you. How can someone as beautiful as you be single?”

“Have you heard my mouth Rafael? Not many people like that about me, not someone I could take home to my Mum so I have been told. But I’ am not going to change myself just for some Chico (boy) who doesn’t know how to shut me up in a good way” he burst out laughing and you gave him a big grin.

“You’re not that bad”

“Yeah cause your worse” you pointed your empty fork at him.

“Do you think you will ever meet the one that can ‘shut you up the good way’?”

“I really hope so” you smiled back at him.

Tags: @detective-giggles​ @beccabarba​​ @thatesqcrush​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @dianilaws​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @lv7867​ @permanentlydizzy​ @averyhotchner​ @infiniteoddball​ @ritajammer21​

#ada rafael barba #ada barba #rafael barba #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x yn #rafael #rafael barba x you #reafael barba x reader #barba x reader #law and order svu #SVU fanfiction #SVU FANDOM #svu fan #nbc svu #svu x reader #barba #barba fanfic #barba fanfiction #rafael barba x female reader #rafael barba x reader

[amiramorozova]

Dual Summoner x The Darkling pt. 42 Wedding!

Pairing: Dual Summoner Amira Silina x The Darkling General Kirgan/ Aleksander Morozova

Word Count: 2050

I sighed a bit knowing that this anger was easier to distract him from his goal than I wanted but I kissed his cheek. "I'm tired after a long day. Our wedding is in three days so we only have one day together before I can't see you till the wedding." I said as I felt his surprise by that custom but there was a lot I wanted to keep untouched. Aleksander walked over to me as he pulled me close "then best to make use of the time." Aleksander said before turning me around and claiming my lips in a kiss. 

I kissed him back as he picked me up before laying me down and got on the bed beside me as he looked at me. He touched my cheek as if taking in my look as he looked so serious. "You're going to look different in three days, hopefully not too different." Aleksander said as I laughed a bit. "I won't be. No matter what Genya does, I'll make it through." I assured him before we both got comfortable then fell asleep laying there with his arm around me. 

I knew this was comfortable to both of us being close, the shadows surrounding the sun as it's supposed to be. We laid like that all night in comfort that I couldn't resist snuggling up to him. He made it worth all the trouble to see the real him that no one saw. Going through the day was nice but duties called so we had to deal with the days and when it came to the next day that seemed to be the worst for me.

I've grown accustomed to just going to him when I wanted to. I thought 

Marie and Nadia were in charge of keeping me away from Aleksander all day and that was a struggle for them. When I heard someone say where he was I wanted to go and they had to grab me and remind me that I needed to not see him. "This isn't fair, I know I said I wanted to uphold this but this is harder than I thought it would be." I said to them, "you will get through this." Marie assured me as I sighed. I figured he was keeping busy with his work as General since that was what he had to keep him distracted but I had nothing. My friends but training meant nothing to me on this day. 

When night came I tried to sleep but it was useless for a while as I heard the door open seeing Genya. "Genya." I said as she walked over "Not able to sleep?" Genya asked as I nod knowing that it wasn't easy. "Maybe this will help. Marie and Nadia will be wearing your colors to the wedding, they are being given blue dresses with a gold sun design belt to represent you." Genya said as it perked me up knowing that I was represented in this wedding then we looked over at my wedding dress. "I think they did well to represent the General in your dress, it wasn't quite the ombre you wanted but the design still looks good." Genya said as I agreed before she left. 

Somehow after she left I was able to sleep and when morning came I knew what today was as I walked to the bathroom to get myself ready before Genya came to do my makeup and hair. I got myself clean and felt like it didn't matter how long I took but I still cleaned up. Then I got myself mostly ready as I had my robe on and looked at the dress suddenly very nervous. The knock on the door was evident as Genya had my breakfast and offered it to me as I ate while she had me sit. Once I finished she helped me into my dress then she got started with my hair first,

Dress, Hair and Accessory:

When Genya got to my makeup I had to relax as she had me close my eyes and I felt the feeling that was her tailor small science at work and when she was done I looked up at her as I looked seeing it was a natural look with some gold shimmer in areas to be the sun summoner. I smiled at myself in the mirror knowing that it looked perfect, it wasn't overly over the top. "I think General Kirigan will appreciate his new bride." Genya said

There was a knock on the door as Marie and Nadia came in with their dresses as I admired them and they looked at me as I stood up. "Oh wow." Marie said as I smiled and they nod their approval. "Well there seems to be good things going on and the room is prepared." Nadia said as I smiled knowing this was best for me. 

Then there was another knock on the door as we all looked seeing my father there who I wasn't sure was going to attend this. "Amira, you look beautiful." Father said as he walked over and I smiled. "thank you father." I said as Genya kept on schedule getting us out of there and I was nervous. We were outside the church doors as I started to question things but knew this was here. 

I need to see him! I thought 

Once Marie and Nadia went ahead as they smiled, representing me as their best friend and the Dual Summoner. It was a private event so no royals were to know about this, only those who were already aware as I didn't want to deal with Prince Nikolai today. I walked with my father as we entered the church seeing every one of my fellow Grisha who attended looked shocked as I looked at all of them knowing we wore Keftas and when I looked up at Aleksander even he was shocked seeing me in the dress. I could feel glaring at me and I knew who it was without even looking as we made it seeing Fedyor by his group but looking at Aleksander I felt a sense of peace. 

An otkazat’sya priest was going to be present as there were many in the church, father turned to me and kissed the top of my hand proudly this day came. He just probably wasn't proud of who I was marrying. "take care of my precious daughter." My father said to Aleksander, I saw him look serious as my hand was given to Aleksander "You have my word sir, she'll be well taken care of." Aleksander said as I stepped up standing across from him. 

"Amira, you look stunning." Aleksander said to me making me blush as I almost said something but then the priest had our attention since we had already joined hands before he'd said so. “We gather here today, before Saints and men, to join two in marriage,” he began simply.  We adjusted ourselves to face the altar. “I call upon any and all Saints to bless this union, to ensure it is filled with love, trust, companionship, and faith. May these two souls rely on and care for one another in times of need, may they lead long, happy lives with one another, and may they have nothing but joy and peace."

long happy lives...you have no idea. I thought as I felt his hand squeeze mine a little as if he sensed my thought and I needed to look into our connection.

I wanted to do this right being the dual summoner, I was doing this because I loved him and I wanted to step into the light to bring out other Dual Summoners so I had to do this. "face each other please." The priest said as we did and he took my other hand. I wasn't a big believer in the saints and neither was he but here we were. The Black Heretic playing General and the Dual Summoner being worshipped as the Sun Queen. "Recite your vows, please." The priest said 

Oh shit, I didn't prepare anything... I thought 

“Amira, Moye Serdtse, I have been alone in this dark battle for so long. When you revealed yourself to be our savior of the fold, my soulmate you brought light to the darkness. Now, I can't think of a world without you. From this day forward I will love and protect you for all eternity." Aleksander said as I was stunned by his choice of words, it made me speechless and the side of him I thought just wanted to get the amplifiers seemed less there. I knew deep down it was still there but right now it wasn't. I saw the ring brought forward as he slipped it on my finger where the engagement ring was and I had to wipe my eyes cause his vows made me emotional. I was glad Genya thought ahead of this. 

"Aleksander, there was a time I didn't trust a lot of people. I didn't let anyone close due to holding in the sun but you were first to know about it before I was truly found out. You never expected more of me than you could see instead you saw potential in me I could not see. Though our beginning was not easy, we have the rest of our lives to make each other happy. I love you." I said as Marie handed me the ring for him and I noticed it was a dark-colored ring as I slid it on his hand.

I noticed Genya walked over with the new Kefta they had made for me to be represented better as she presented it to Aleksander. It was the first time he'd seen my new black Kefta for this day as he took it as he motioned for me to turn around as I did and he put it on me as I turned to face him while he buttoned it up seeing my design on the kefta but right, where my heart was located on the Kefta, was the darkling symbol which he seemed to like. "By the power of the saints, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The priest said 

Aleksander leaned in to kiss me but he wrapped his arms around me then dipped me before kissing me as I kissed him back. When he pulled away I smiled at him knowing we were officially married and I couldn't be happier at the moment as he got close to my ear. "officially you're a Morozova now." He whispered

When we were done, we walked into a room that was set up in the little palace for some kind of afterparty as things were set up. I didn't mind as I saw Baghra had been present which was good as I walked over to her and she looked at me. "You look very beautiful, my dear. Welcome to the family and I will still keep watch out for you if anything goes wrong." Baghra said 

As much as I wanted to say that I had things under control, I knew not all of it was. Still, I tried not to think about it knowing it was more on the wedding. "Thank you Baghra." I said as Marie and Nadia came over to me and smiled. "Well, now you are married. What's next?" Nadia asked as I laughed a bit. "We are talking about children." I said which surprised Baghra, Nadia, and Marie but I knew it wasn't a secret to keep. 

The afterparty wasn't overly bad as it was short to the point but everyone was celebrating the event with us and I was excited. Till Aleksander took my hand and started to lead me away. "Come on Amira, it's getting late." Aleksander said as I blushed a bit knowing now I had no more excuses it was the wedding night. 

A/N: In the Next part. XD

Taglist: @lifeisingrey

#wedding #aleksander morovoza #general kirigan #dual summoner #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #grishaverse #shadow summoner #tidemaker #darkling x reader #darkling #the darkling #team darkling

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets VII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing, name calling

•••

You could feel the sunlight on your eyelids, making everything behind your eyelids appear as a dark red. But almost as soon as the sun was on your eyes, it was gone. The side of your bed dipped down when weight was added to the mattress and a gentle hand was holding your shoulders, a familiar voice coaxing you awake. 

“Y/n. . . c’mon, wake up.”

Opening your eyes you could see Jonathan sitting next to you, Nancy next to him, looking down at you, holding a cardboard cup of coffee in her hands. 

“Wha?” You didn’t have enough energy to pronounce your ‘T’ in the word, knowing that they understood what you were trying to say while laying down in your bed, early in the morning with your hair sprawled out around your head. 

“Get up, c’mon. Get dressed.” Jonathan was being gentler than he had been the day before. Instead of barging in and making a ruckus while you were just waking up, he was being nice about it. 

“Why?” You asked, leaning more into the pillow underneath your head, pulling the duvet closer to your shoulder that were exposed to the cold air. 

Jonathan avoided the answer to the question. “I’ll explain in the car. C’mon, we got you coffee. Rise and shine.” With that he stood from the bed and you grumbled a bit at feeling the sunlight back on your face. The door to your room, wide open. 

Nancy placed the cup on the bedside table, and she stared for a moment at something on the table by the lamp. Something you didn’t have enough effort to even look at. 

You sat up, grabbing the coffee and taking an unsure sip, testing the dirty bean water to see how hot it was. 

“What’s this?” Nancy asked, picking up what she’d been looking at. You turned your head, feeling your knotted hair move across your bare shoulders. She held up your long dead phone, the black screen smudged with your finger prints and a bit of dried goo by the home button. 

It’s not that you couldn’t charge it, you had the charger for it. You supposed out of all of the moments you could have gone missing and end up in the past, you chose the right one, with all of your essentials being in your bag when you ran off. But charging your phone, only to see the photo your Uncle took of a place called Balboa Park in California, made you nervous. The thought of seeing photos in your camera roll of your family scared you. 

“That’s uh. . .” You struggled for a few seconds for words. “My phone.” You answered. 

“ There’s only one button.” Nancy observed. “Oh, sorry, four.” She corrected herself upon seeing the volume and power buttons. 

“Nancy, we don’t know how future technology works.” Jonathan told her, going to the open door and closing it, returning the room to the dim lighting you usually kept it in whenever you went to bed, or wanted to lay in bed and be depressed. 

Your attention turned to Jonathan as he turned back around and saw you staring at him. 

“I believe you. You left this at my house.” He said reaching into his bag and pulling out your sketchbook. With everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed you’d left it at the home when you’d left. But that meant he’d had it for since before the funeral. and hadn’t mentioned it. 

He flipped to a page where there were different doodles you and your Dad had done while eating pastries and drinking warm cafe beverages. He usually always got a coffee, you always got a hot cocoa when you went with him. It was tradition every Friday. 

“That’s not his DnD character. It’s one of his friends.” Jonathan pointed to one figure on the paper, that was colored in with crayon, because yes, you and your father still used crayons. 

“It’s Mike’s. He doesn’t know you, there’s no way you could know his character, so that means you’re not lying” Nancy spoke, placing the dead phone onto the bedside table again while you got out of bed, placing the coffee on the table, not caring that you were wearing a tank top and underwear, with no bra. 

“Y/n-” Jonathan started, only to get cut off by you.

“Why would I lie? What would the benefit be for me, huh?” You demanded, walking to the dresser, pulling out a pair of pale blue jeans and pulling them on over your underwear. “Oh, yeah, I’m Y/n Byers, haha, jk, jk, just fucking with you.” You said in a mocking voice, mostly to yourself as you zipped up the jeans and grabbed your belt. “As if I’m not gonna be talking about this shit in therapy ten years from now, in- oh wait, not my year, but rather fucking 1993! Mean Girls won’t even be out yet, the fucking IPhone won’t be invented yet! I’ll have to continue going to a fucking payphone every time I wanna call someone if I’m not here!” 

It was all getting on your nerves, it wasn’t very late in the morning, meaning they woke you up way before you were supposed to, and while the coffee would help, you didn’t appreciate them somehow finding the spare key you had to the room. 

“Oh, and I’m gonna have to keep saying Czechoslovakia instead of the Czech Republic and Slovakia because they won’t separate for another ten fucking years!” That was directed in Jonathan and Nancy’s way, and they both blinked in surprise, staring at you as though you’d lost your mind, and if a stranger had heard you, they would think you did. 

But Jonathan was the one who stuttered his way back into conversation. “Al- alright. . . Any-anything else?” He asked, holding the strap to his bag that was resting on his shoulder. 

“I have plenty of shit to complain about, Jonathan. I’m choosing to not start a fight right now.” 

Jonathan was stunned back into silence, watching as your demeanor was now that of a sad toddler. Your moods always fluctuated for about an hour or two after you’d woken up. Pulling the belt through your belt loops you reached into another drawer, pulling out a sweater and bra and walking to the bathroom. “Can’t even change in peace, in my own damn room.”

•••

“No! No, we’re not going off of a theory that this thing is like a Lion, Coyote, fucking Bear hybrid in behavior!” You yelled from the backseat, still holding the coffee. “It is 7:52 am, guys! I should be in bed, not yelling at you two for a stupid idea, a- a- a fucking hunch!”

Nancy turned in to face you from her seat, He blue eyes intense with determination as she stared at you. “If Will’s your dad, you want to find him, right?” 

“That’s not fair-”

“If you want to make sure you’re still born, this ‘hunch’ is all we have.” Nancy shot back, silencing you as you sunk into the carseat, holding the cup closer and taking a slow sip, intentionally making the annoying slurping noise, only to be disappointed and even more annoyed when Nancy turned away and faced the windshield again. 

“You’re both gonna get me killed.” You commented lazily, propping your feet up on the center console, continuing to drink your unflavored and unsweetened coffee, grimacing at the taste every time, but hoping and praying that you hadn’t built up a tolerance to caffeine. 

Jonathan pulled into a spot that wasn’t ‘technically’ a parking spot, and turned off the car, turning to face you like Nancy had. 

“Okay, do you- do you know of any way you could possibly get back to, you know. . . your time? I’m sorry what year?” 

You stared at Jonathan for a moment, because he had such a familiar face, and yet, he felt like a stranger. “I think I’d have to go back to that place. And although I really do love being able to say things other people understand, I think I’d rather live through history than go back there.” 

Your attitude changed, going from light-heartedly bitter about being woken up, and annoyed with their plan to get the monster that you called a Wendigo, to sad and down. Because it made it real. 

You’d never fall asleep in the back of the car listening to your Dad and Pa playfully argue and banter while your brother blasted his music so loud you could hear it with your own headphones on. 

Long days where you went to school, your brother’s orchestra performance, and then dinner would no longer be a thing. Your nights wouldn’t end with your Dad putting your music on for you. Because no matter how old you’d gotten, your Dad was still your Dad, and he’d always been there, even if it was for something as simple as turning your music on for you. 

Looking down at your lip you fought against the tears, refusing to cry in front of them. That was only something you did alone. 

“I’m gonna get some food.” You said quickly getting out of the car with your bag in hand. Jonathan followed suit.

“Y/n-”

“Stop.” Your voice shook as you looked at him. Holding the top of your backpack with a death grip, “You two go buy your fucking Sam and Dean Winchester bullshit, I’m gonna get something to eat. It is eight in the morning, on a Saturday! I am tired, I am hungry.” You told him. “So, I am going to go to the cafe down the street and get a muffin or a breakfast sandwich, and I will meet you back here!”

You didn’t mean to constantly be yelling at Jonathan, after all, he was one of your only uncles. But this wasn’t your uncle. He was just Jonathan Byers, whose brother was stuck in a dark and scary place, hiding like you had.

And you were just a kid. A teenage girl who didn’t know what to do. Who felt as if your world was crumbling all around you, pinning you to the ground so you couldn’t get up.

The only thing you could do right now to make anything around you seem even remotely okay, was to eat, try and pretend like you didn’t just choose your fate in the back of an old Ford while a sixteen year old version of your uncle stared at you. 

So you’d gone down the street, fighting against tears until you heard people talking, verging on hushed arguing. So you looked up and saw the movie theatre sign, the letters put into place to say ‘All the Right Moves’ but right after, red spray paint saying ‘Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler’ 

You knew the hand writing, with Steve having once convinced you to look over Tommy’s English paper. You’d given up barely halfway in, the spelling getting on your nerves and the grammatical errors hurting your head a bit too much. You’d told him to go to one of the tutors in the library. 

Looking down the street a bit more you saw the culprits, Carol, Tommy, Nicole and of course Steve. 

There wasn’t a reason in the world for this. And although you’d never been in a relationship, you knew how a boy's mind worked. Especially a boy like Steve. Who was turning out to be the biggest asshole in disguise. 

The group of four slipped down into an alley, and as if on auto pilot, you followed them, now ignoring your original plan of getting something to eat.

“Steve!” You shouted when you finally reached the alleyway, watching as Tommy was taking a can of red spray paint from inside his jacket. Their attention turned to you as you made your way over the older male, who’s facial expression and body language was unreadable. “What the hell was that?” You demanded.

Tommy uncapped the can and stepped up a small set of stairs that only took him up off the ground about a foot, and started working on a cruel message on a piece of plywood. 

“Y/n, just go home.” Steve said firmly when you reached him. Shaking your head you stared up at him. You didn’t know why you were angry. You had no right to be. He wasn’t your problem, and your dads always told you to ignore men and boys like Steve Harrington. 

“Steve, just tell me what happened.” You urged. You shouldn’t be giving him a chance to explain himself, you could have just turned him and his friends in as the vandalizers of the theatre. You should’ve, because you should still be angry over Jonathan’s camera. 

“What does it matter?” He questioned while you grabbed the sleeve to his navy blue jacket. 

“It matters because that’s public humiliation, not only in general, but to the girl who I’m pretty sure you’re dating?”

Steve only huffed and pulled his arm away from you. “This is why it doesn’t matter. Cause see, you have this little soft spot Jonathan Byers, you’ll defend him no matter what I say.” He huffed, looking away from you and at the letters Tommy was writing with the spray paint. 

“Steve, that’s not fair. You were being a grade A cunt when you broke Jonathan’s camera, okay? And now? You’re acting like a little bitch. Your little feelings are hurt because of something Nancy did, so you’re gonna humiliate her? Stay classy, Harrington.” 

He turned his gaze back to you, glaring. Now his feelings were evident, he was angry and sad. And wouldn’t tell you why. 

“Hey, L/n, wanna know something that even my little sister knows?” Tommy asked, pausing for a brief second and looking down at you, a cigarette between his lips. You quirked up an eyebrow. “Little girls should be seen and not heard.” 

You scoffed a bit at Tommy’s comment, a bitter and fake grin coming across your face as you put your hands on your hips. “I wish I could say I’m surprised that you're a misogynistic piece of shit, but I’m not.” You looked back at Steve, taking a step back from the group. “God. Steve, I thought you could be a good person. But you’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met”

You went to leave but the moment you turned around, you saw Nancy, close to angry tears as she walked down the alleyway to where you all were. You stood in place, not leaving her side, and not Jonathan’s either as he followed after Nancy. 

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol said with feigned happiness as Nancy finally reaches her spot in front of Steve. 

“Uh oh. She looks upset.” Tommy stated the obvious while you gave the couple space, leaning against a parked car and watching as Steve turned to face Nancy. As well as watching while Nancy raised a hand to slap him against the side of his face. The only causing you to flinch being the sound that the three other teens made in reaction to their friend being hit. 

You’d seen worse at school before. Having watched a fight go down where a kid tried to brace his fall after being pushed, and broke the bone in his forearm. You still got shivers whenever you remembered the large bump in his skin where the bone was presing gainst. 

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy inquired. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can’t believe I was actually worried about you.” Steve’s voice trailed off at the end, being followed by a scoff, as if he was disappointed in himself. 

“What are you talking about?” It was clear that Nancy was just as clueless as you were as to what was going on with Steve’s sudden betrayal against Nancy. 

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut do you?” If there was anyone at Hawkins High who you hated more than Tommy, It was Carol. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy hopped down from the top of the small set of stairs. “Hi.” He said with a smile, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and wrapping an arm around Carol. 

Turning you saw Jonathan coming closer, his presence finally being registered by the others. It finally clicked. And it seemed to click for nancy too. “You came by last night?” 

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Looking over to Jonathan he was holding out a hand for you to come over and take. You removed yourself from the situation and went over to your uncle, grabbing onto his sleeve. 

Because at times, he was just the face you knew as your uncle growing up, who bought you your first camera in fifth grade, and bought you lightroom and photoshop in sixth when you were thinking about going into photography in highschool. And right now, he was that familiar face, who could see how uncomfortable you were and was offering comfort. 

“What, you just let him into your room to. . .” Steve gave Jonathan a quick glance before looking back down at Nancy. “study?” 

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy laughed, your grip on Jonathan’s sleeve tightening. 

“We were just-”

“You were just what?” You wished you could intervene, but you couldn’t. Because you didn’t know what happened last night after you left the Wheeler household. “Finish that sentence.” 

You looked up at Jonathan, and saw the way he was looking at the couple. And it slowly made you realize, that this was your aunt. You’d never called her ‘Aunt Nancy’ she was always just ‘Aunt Nan’ to you, and no one ever bothered to correct you. And maybe you were looking too much into things, but she did look very similar to your aunt. 

“Finish the sentence.” Steve challenged. 

Nancy just took deep breaths to stay calm, while you stood and watched as Steve shook his head at her response of choosing silence. “Go to hell, Nancy.” 

Jonathan stepped forward and grabbed onto Nancy’s arm and pulled her back a bit. “C’mon, Nancy. Let’s just go.” 

You went to turn around but Steve began to talk again. “You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed.” Jonathan and Nancy turned away, beginning to walk to the street again, with you following after until you saw Steve give Jonathan a harsh shove to the back of the shoulder. 

“I always took you for a queer, but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah that house is full of screw-ups.” 

The words were getting to you. Because that was your family. Your grandmother, your asshole for a grandfather, and your uncle. And you’d never let words get to you, but these were striking you deep, and hard. But you didn’t turn away, you just kept taking steps like Nancy and Jonathan who tried to ignore the shoving, and Harrington’s cruel words. 

“You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. An bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

“Steve, walk away.” You snapped turning to him while Nancy told Jonathan to leave it alone. 

“I mean, your mom. . . I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother-” 

You threw the first punch, your dominant hand balling itself into a fist and colliding with Steve’s nose. And the moment you heard the thud of bones cushioned by skin hitting each other, and the deep, yet dull and constant pain in your knuckles you knew you’d made a mistake, even if it felt satisfying to hit him. Because the moment you pulled back swearing and hissing at the pain in your fist, Jonathan had followed your lead. 

Jonathan’s punch had a bit more weight behind it, and made Steve grab onto a pole to regain balance. You started something, but you didn’t know what.

You screamed out at Steve to stop the moment that he tackled Jonathan to the car you’d leaned against, and so had Nancy. 

When Steve had pushed Jonathan onto his back and on the ground, you felt as if the pain was your own, your spine tensing up the moment you heard the thud. 

“Steve!” You yelled while Jonathan switched their positions, rolling them over so he had the better position to hit. You hated that Steve’s friends were encouraging it. Well, at least Tommy was. Carol and Nicole knew when things had to end. 

It happened fast, with barely any time to process it. All you knew was that Jonathan had Steve on the ground a second time, Steve’s face bloodied and already swelling and bruising when the cop car came. Nicole and Carol running off when Tommy told them too. All you knew was that Jonathan hit a cop, and Steve and Tommy ran.

•••

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​​​​ @jxnehxpper​​​​ @yllwtaxi​​​​ @songofcosplay​​​​ @potatopooper05​ 

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington slow burn #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

[i-need-entertainment]

Dreams Can Come True: Chapter 1 Encounter

Introduction-Chapter 2

Today started off like any other day. Wake up at 7:00, take a shower, get dressed, go downstairs, have coffee and eat breakfast, and go to work. Y/n L/n had a fairly normal life. She didn’t cause trouble, she followed the rules like any ordinary human, she had a fairly good paying job and she worked hard. As she stepped out of the door she could feel the chill in the air. It was only September, but it was already starting to get colder outside.

She walked to the daycare, seeing as it was only about 15 minutes away, and despite the chilly weather it was still a beautiful day. She wore her usual attire, white button up tucked neatly into some midrise blue jeans with a few buttons undone for comfort, a black suede coat, and black ankle boots. Y/n walked into the daycare center, set her stuff down, took off her coat and got to work. “Ms. Y/n!!” Her kids ran up to her, some giving her hugs, while others just smiled and said their good mornings. “*giggle* Good morning kids! Did everyone have a nice weekend?” There was a whole bunch of ‘yeah!’, ‘uh-huh’ ‘How about you Ms. Y/n?’ “Okay then, how about we all sit on the mat and take turns telling everyone about our weekends?”

 ~Meanwhile in the Shie Hassaikai~

 “You called for me boss?” Chrono stated as he entered his boss’ office. “This is unofficial business Kurono, no need to be so formal.” Kurono internally sighed in bliss. Being the Second in command of the Shie Hassaikai had its perks, no doubt about that, but having to serve directly under you best friend? Yeah that was rough. Kurono took off his mask, Overhaul had known him long enough, he didn’t mind as long as they were alone and he wasn’t sick. “So what did you need Kai?” Kai stood up, walking over to the couches and waving Chrono over as well. The two sat down and continued to speak. “Its about Eri, I want you to find a care taker for her.” (This is where I change things up. In this world, Eri isn’t being experimented on *at least not yet* so Pops will be in this *yay!*. But, Kai was still tasked with taking care of her, but Kai doesn’t really know what THE HECK to do with a kid, so Chrono takes care of her most of the time. I’m also making it so that Eri calls chrono dad, because I think its FREAKING ADORABLE and I can) Chrono seemed surprised at this. Since they had been taking care of Eri, Kai had always just pushed her onto Chrono. “What do you mean?” “I mean she needs a female caretaker as well as you as her male one, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not exactly a strong female presence in the Hassaikai. And if we want her to grow up as normal as she can, she should have at least one female caretaker to look up to.” Chrono seemed to think about it. I mean, it made since. Sure, he took care of her, treated her like his own even, but especially after what she had been through with her mother, she needed a loving maternal figure to help her (*cough cough* help him). Having a female around would also make the *ahem* teen years easier…Fewer uncomfortable discussions for him! “Seems fair enough…But uh..Kai?” “Yes Kurono?” There was a moment of silence. “How exactly are we going to get a caretaker? We can’t exactly post an ad on craigslist.” Overhaul seemed deep in thought for two whole seconds, until “Simple, take one.” “…What?” “Do I really have to repeat myself? We’ll take Eri to the park, find a suitable candidate and we’ll bring her back here.” “Seems reasonable, and if she refuses to come?” “I guess we’ll just have to be convincing. Strike up an average conversation, entice her here. I don’t care, just get her here.” Chrono simply nodded, stood up, and started to leave. “Alrighty boss, you got it. You ready to head out now?” “Yes, let’s get this done…I hate the park.” With that Chrono left Kai’s office and made his way to Eri’s room. It was around 8:30, so she should be up, and if she isn’t, she needs to be. Chrono walked into Eri’s room. “Eri, it’s time to get up” He softly said as he made his way over to her bed and softly sat down on the edge. Eri made some sleepy noises, sat up, stretched and yawned, sleepily looking around. “Good morning” He said as he ruffled her bed headed hair. “*yawn* Good morning daddy…” She trailed off, trying to rub the sleepiness out of her eyes. “Lets get you dressed and fed, today we’re going to the park.” Any sleep left in the young girl seemingly disappeared as she heard ‘fed’ and ‘park’. Chrono chuckled, and stood up making his way to the door. “Um..daddy?” “Hm?” He smiled at being called ‘daddy’ when she was little she couldn’t exactly pronounce ‘Kurono’ and he didn’t even try with ‘Chronostasis’ so Kai said for her to just call him ‘dad’, one less responsibility for him, and it provided good cover. “Could you help me pick out what to wear..? And help me with my hair?” She timidly asked, looking at the floor. Eri didn’t exactly have the greatest start in life, after accidentally rewinding her father and being abandoned by her mother, she was practically thrown into the arms of the Shie Hassaikai. Specifically into the arms of Chrono. Don’t get me wrong! He tried his best he really did! But being abandoned by his own parents and a gangster, he didn’t exactly know HOW to be a ‘dad’. He smiled. Despite the extra work it entailed, he truly didn’t mind taking care of her, he was just still learning. “Well, I can’t promise much for the hair…but the outfit I can do.” All in all, he enjoyed being her caretaker. It provided him an escape from the Yakuza. Being able to drop the cold façade and get to be his natural goofball self felt good. “Alright, what’ll it be today kiddo?” Eri looked into her closet, seemingly deep in thought. “Uh…uhm…that!” She pointed to a light blue jumper with a pink sweater to wear underneath. “You got it.” After getting Eri dressed, he sat her down on the bed to attempt to do her hair. He brushed out her long blue-white locks, pulled back a couple strand with a bow and bam, a hairstyle a six year old will at least tolerate. “Ready for breakfast?” Eri speedily nodded her head. Chrono chuckled. “Alright then, lets get you some food.” Chrono and Eri headed to the kitchen, Eri sat down at the table and Chrono headed to the fridge. ‘So, what’ll it be?” Eri thought for a minute. “Apples.” “Again? But you had apples yesterday?” “I know…but I really want apples.” He just smiled, “Whatever you say crackhead.” She simply pouted at the nickname and crossed her small arms. Chrono cut up the apple into slices, and gave the plate to Eri, the little girl’s ‘tough’ demeanor instantaneously dropping as she saw the red fruit. Eri ate breakfast, and Chrono, Overhaul, Nemoto and Eri made their way to the park. So as not to arise suspicion the three Yakuza members were dressed in casual clothes. Chrono wore a white hoodie with blue jeans and white sneakers, Overhaul wore a black button up with black slacks and white sneakers along with a black winter coat, and Nemoto wore a white dress shirt with black slacks, a gray coat and dress shoes. When they got to the park, Nemoto and Overhaul made their way to a café while Chrono and Eri went to the park. All was going well until *somehow* Eri got separated from Chrono.

 ~Back to the daycare which is now playing in the park~

 “Okay guys, have fun, be safe and stay together! Also, don’t talk to strangers!” Y/n yelled to the kids as they ran off to play. Y/n walked towards a bench to sit down and read, when she noticed an unfamiliar little girl nervously walking around, she looked lost. Y/n put on her softest, sweetest smile and calmly approached the girl. “Hi there sweety! My names Y/n, are you lost sweetheart?” At the woman’s kindness the girl seemed to calm down a little bit, but not much. “..Y-yes…I don’t know what happened..I came here with my d-daddy..but now I can’t find hi-im…” The poor girl looked like she was about to cry. “Its okay honey! Do you know his name? I can help you find him.” Eri stopped her sniffles and looked at the kind young woman who was offering to help her. “O-okay..His name is-“ Before the young girl could finish, she was interrupted by loud footsteps and a disheveled looking Chrono. “ERI!? ERI!!” He ran over to the young girl, crouching down and hugging her tightly in his arms. “Eri you have to stay close to me!! I almost didn’t find you!!” The young girl clung tightly to Chrono and started to cry. “I-I know daddy, I’m sorry!” “It’s okay, just…try not to do it again? You almost gave me a heart attack!” “I’m sorry daddy…but.. this really nice lady helped me.” Eri pointed towards Y/n. Chrono then looked up to see a fairly short, young woman with h/l h/c hair, she was beautiful, he had to admit. He stood up and she held out her hand. “Thank you for helping my daughter, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t find her.” “Its no problem! Really! I work at a daycare, so scared little kids is the least of my worries!” She let out a light hearted laugh and smiled at Chrono. “Y/n L/n, you are…?” “Hari Kurono. It’s nice to meet you Ms. L/n.” “Oh, please, call me Y/n! I’m only twenty and hearing ‘Ms.’ makes me feel old!” Chrono just chuckled. “Alright then Y/n, well that’s my daughter, Eri, I’m kinda surprised she even talked to you, she tends to hide behind me most of the time.” They both looked over at Eri who was now playing with the other kids. “That’s not unusual, I’ve got at least five kids who didn’t talk to me for the first two weeks! Is her mother shy?” “Oh, uh actually she doesn’t have a mother…actually..I’m not even her biological dad.” Y/n seemed shocked at this, not only that he wasn’t her dad (You look at the two and HONESTLY tell me they don’t look AT LEAST similar?!?!) and even more shocked he was single. I mean, look at him, the mans attractive. Chrono seemed to have sensed her confusion, “She’s my boss’ granddaughter, but seeing as he’s older, he gave her to me and my friend to take care of, but he’s not exactly the settle-down-have a family type, so I did what I could and next thing I knew I was her ‘dad’. Not gonna lie though, its been hard. She had a…rough start. Her dad died and her mom abandoned her.” “That’s very admirable of you, taking in a child like that. I don’t have any of my own, but even just babysitting these kids for a few hours is hard enough! I was orphaned, so I can sympathize with Eri in a way, my aunt had to take me in after my parents were killed by heroes.” “I’m sorry to hear that, so I take it you’re not too fond of them?” “Well, I guess not. I don’t hate heroes entirely, but I’m not exactly a fan.” Chrono began to think about why exactly he was here, and she seemed to be checking all the boxes. She was kind, caring, great with kids, young, Eri didn’t run from her, so far she seemed like the perfect candidate. And even better, she didn’t seem to be too fond of heroes. “Hey, um if you’re not busy later, would you mind meeting with me and my boss? You see, I came here looking for another caretaker for Eri.” The young woman seemed intrigued at what Chrono had to say. “Where we work, there aren’t exactly many women around…In fact..there aren’t any women around. And seeing as Eri was left to us, we want her to have a chance at a normal childhood, so she kinda needs a mother figure, and I think you’d be right for the job.” Y/n seemed surprised, she was also curious what kind of job wouldn’t have even one female around. This made Y/n even more curious about the young man. “Okay, I’ll meet with you and your boss, but it’ll have to be after my shift it over, so I won’t be off until five.” “That’s fine, give me your phone number, I’ll text you the details after I talk with my boss.” They exchanged phone numbers, “Alright then, well I should probably be leaving now.” “Yeah, me too, I need to get the kids back to the daycare, hopefully their energy is drained at least a little!” Chrono chuckled he knew exactly what that felt like. “Good luck, and I’ll see you later.” “I’m going to need it. Bye Kurono!” “Bye Y/n.” And with that, the two went their separate ways.

 ~Back at the Shie Hassaikai Base in Overhaul’s office~

 “Well? How did it go?” “Good, really good, actually. I think I found our new caretaker.” Overhaul waved his hand, signaling Chrono to continue. “She’s twenty years old, kind, good with kids, and she doesn’t seem to be too fond of heroes.” Overhaul seemed intrigued. “Tell her to meet us at Dixon Café at 5:30, we will discuss the details there.” “Yessir”. Chrono then left Overhaul’s office. Making his way to Eri’s room, he decided to go ahead and text Y/n the details.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kurono

Hey Y/n, this is Hari Kurono from the park? I talked with my boss, he said to meet Dixon Café at 5:30 today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He set down his phone and continued walking. About two minutes later he felt his phone buzz.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n

Okay! Perfect, I’ll be there.

Kurono

Alright, see you then.

Y/n

See you then!

Chrono then put away his phone, the slightest hint of a smile on his face as he made his way to Eri’s room. Yeah, this was gonna be interesting to say the least.

#chronostasis #chrono #chronostasis x reader #chrono x reader #y/n #hari kurono #bnha x reader #bnha #shie hassaikai

[whatisthiscontentyouspeakof]

Guardian of Light

So for anyone wondering, I don’t have an update schedule at all, just posting when I feel like it, mostly to avoid going to bed. This chapter gives you some information and a flashback to Marinette’s past before she was found unconscious in Paris. 

Would it be helpful to you guys if I put Marinette’s age at the beginning of each section so you have an idea of how much time has past between each part of the story.

AO3  First  Previous Next

Chapter 4: First Days

(Age 3)

Marinette was used to her colourful bedroom so when she awoke in a room that was completely white she was confused. There was no blue ceiling with fluffy white clouds and glow in the dark star stickers, no lush green mountains or fields with fun little animals running around, no giant stuffed animals or anything of the other things that were in her room.

Confused, she was about to call out for her Maman and Papa when she remembered the birthday party in the park and the strange man that had taken her away. Tears started to form in her eyes as the fear came back.

“None of that now.” A voice said. Marinette turned her head to see the man who had taken her standing in the rooms’ doorway. “Crying is for the weak and the weak are unacceptable here.”

“I want to go home,” Marinette said. A part of her wanted to suck on her thumb but that was something babies did and she was three. Not to mention she had a feeling that if crying wasn’t allowed, then neither was thumb sucking.

“Whining is unbecoming of a young lady such as yourself,” The man said. “As for going home, there is no need; this is your home now, Niu.”

“Niu?” Marinette repeated, having never heard the word before. The man had pronounced it ‘nee oo’.

“Your name,” the man said.

“My name is Marinette,” she told him, confused. He had called her it in the park after all.

“That was the name of a weakling, of someone insignificant and worthless,” The man’s voice was cold and mean sounding. “Niu is your name now. You will respond to it. You will not ever respond to Marinette ever again. If you do not follow either of these rules, you will not like what happens. Failure is not acceptable here. Marinette is dead as of today. In her place stands Niu, someone who will be worth something, who will make a difference in the world. From this day on, you will be training with me and the other Guardians so that you can reach that goal. When you are done with your training and have shown us that you are worthy of the title of Grand Guardian you will be able to earn your own name.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Guardian Zhu. I will be your teacher from this point forward. To fail or to be weak here isn’t just a short coming on your part but it also negatively affects me. As such, I expect nothing but perfection from you. If you do not perform to perfection then you will have to face the consequences, and trust me when I say, you will not like them. Now get up. It is time to eat and then I will be showing you what chores I will be expecting you to do every day upon waking.”

Marinette’s chest felt like lead. She swallowed before swinging her legs over the bed and standing up. She walked over to Guardian Zhu, her head looking down at the ground as her heart pounded; her entire body trembling as she walked.

Guardian Zhu whipped around, his hand reaching out and slapping her straight across the face. Marinette fell to the ground, one hand reaching up to touch her face in shock. “You will answer me with a ‘yes Master’ when I speak to you.” Guardian Zhu said sternly.

Marinette looked up at him, her heart pounding. “Yes Master,” she whispered.

(Age 12)

Marinette walked calmly down to the bakery, her parents already down there and working for the day. She would have normally been down there, learning their trade the same way she had every other day, but today marked the first day of school for her. Her parents informed her that she had been in school and with her class the day she was taken but as far as she could remember she had only been taught by a parade of different tutors from across the world. The largest group of peers she had learned with had been four, and that had only been on the one occasion, with most of her other classes either being just her, her and Nuri, or her, Nuri and his cousin, though it was rare that Mara was allowed to learn with them. The rest of the Fist weren’t allowed to ever train with her or Nuri since they were seen as so below them. Never had she been in a class full of strangers.

“Morning Marinette,” Her father greeted from where he was kneading some dough.

“Morning Tom,” she greeted. She and her parents had agreed that it was a bit too soon for her to call them anything but their names. She was waiting for some sort of ‘special’ occasion to call them by any paternal nicknames, though she was unsure if she would ever truly view them as her mom or dad. She wished she could talk to Nuri about this. He would know what it was like to suddenly find himself living with a biological parent that was more stranger than parent.

“Are you ready for your first day of school?” Sabine asked her, having just finished ringing up a customer. The only one that had been in the bakery. The calm before the breakfast rush.

“I have all the suggestion supplies and a few of my own,” Marinette told her. She wasn’t sure what she expected from classes, she didn’t need them after all since she was guaranteed to be farther ahead in her own studies, but they were going to make her seem like a normal kid. She just had to remember to get a question wrong every once in a while and not to see eager to answer questions.

“I meant mentally, sweetie,” Her mother said.

Marinette shrugged, something that would have gotten her smacked at the very least if she’d done it at the Temple or League, but was something she’d seen Chloe do regularly enough that she assumed it was something common among Paris school children. “I see no reason not to be ready. It’s school. I listen to teachers talk about subjects, I socialize, I eat, I go back to class, I come back here.”

Sabine just smiled at her like she was missing something. Why would she be nervous about school of all things? It’s not like she was scaling a cliff wall during an earthquake without any equipment. “If you get overwhelmed or anything like that you can come home right away and we’ll let the school know you weren’t feeling well or something,” Sabine offered.

Marinette smiled at her and thanked her for the offer even though she was sure she wouldn’t need it. It was the polite thing to do after all.

“Here’s your lunch,” Tom said, handing her a stack of tupperware. She placed it in her bag and looked up to see her father handing her a box with the bakeries logo on it. “A little treat to share with your classmates on the first day of the year.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said smiling up at her father. He just offered her the perfect chance to get to know her classmates and decide which ones would be the most useful to be on friendly terms with.

Marinette was about two steps out the bakery doors when a limo pulled up long the crub. The window rolled down to reveal Chloe.

“Get in,” she said.

“The school is literally across the street,” Marinette protested. “Why don’t you get out and walk?”

“Because I’m wearing heels,” Chloe said. Marinette couldn’t really argue against that. Even the Temple didn’t make her wear heels unless absolutely necessary.

Marinette climbed into the limo, realizing there was someone else in the limo. “Hi I’m Marinette,” she said, putting her hand out for the other girl, a red head, to shake.

The girl gripped her hand, firm and professional. “I’m Sabrina Raincomprix. Sorry we haven’t met yet but I’ve been with my mom in Scotland. Divorced parents and all that. But Chloe told me how she made a new friend. I can’t wait to get to know you.”

Marinette smiled at the girl. “Same.” she said politely.

She looked the girl over noting that she looked a bit uncomfortable in her skin, though Marinette couldn’t tell if that was because she was self-conscious or she wasn’t comfortable in the clothing she was wearing. She’d bet that Chloe had picked this girls outfit out for her the same way she had for Marinette. Not that Marinette minded; it gave her a better idea of youth fashion in Paris.

Sabrina was wearing a pair of purple flared dress pants with a blue button up and dark grey blazer. Her shoes were mainly white with black toe covers, laces and soles. She had a white headband in her hair and a pair of red toned brown glasses sitting on her nose.

Chloe, on the other hand, wore an outfit of black and yellow. Actually, Marinette couldn’t think of a time in which the heiress wasn’t wearing black and yellow. At least it made buying gifts on her birthday easier if Marinette went the clothing route. She wore a black pleated skirt with balck tight and black belt. She wore a ¾ sleeve yellow shirt topped with a shiny black tie. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and with a pair of black sunglasses sitting on top of her head. Her heels were black with gold little bobbles that suggested buttons, and red underbottoms hinting to their designer origins.

Marinette had decided to wear the outfit Chloe had sent her. One, she was still trying not to rock the boat, and two, Chloe would know better than her what would be popular to wear on the first day of school. Marinette could study all she wanted but there were only things you could learn first hand. She wore a dress which had two different colours, separating the top and the bottom to give the appearance of her wearing a skirt and top. The skirt of the dress was royal blue in a half circle style. A black belt, it was really just a strip of fabric sewn into the dress, sat just below her waist, creating a drop waist silhouette. The top of the dress was also black with ¾ sleeves and a large curved neckline. Chloe had sent her a pair of black kitty heels but she had decided to wear flats and her hair was pulled up into what would be a ballerina bun if Marinette’s hair wasn’t several feet long, the layers in her hair creating a messier, more teenage, version to the perfect bun of professional ballerinas.

The limo pulled up to the curb in front of the school. The three of them got out and Chloe’s driver pulled away. Sabrina and Chloe started to head into the building but Marinette grabbed Chloe’s arm before she could get too far away.

“Why does this place feel familiar?” she asked the blond, the only person outside of her parents who knew of her kidnapping and knew her before it had happened.

Chloe looked at her paling a bit as she came to a realization. “Our old school, where we attended Maternelle, used to be here. They bulldozed it the year after you were taken,” CHloe whispered to her. “They built this school here last year when they decided to decrease class sizes in Paris and needed another school.”

“Oh,” Marinette said. After a moment she shrugged. “Hey, what better way to start a new chapter of your life then to close an old one.”

(Age 13)

There was an energy in the air when Marinette awoke that had not been there before. Something was going to happen today, she just knew it.

Marinette glanced over at the clock seeing that there were only a few minutes left until her alarm would go off and decided to get up anyways, knowing she could just say she was excited to start the school year if her parents made a comment. She didn’t know what they had against her waking up so early, they were bakers after all, but she tried to seem like she was sleeping in during the school year. She’d already been up at the wee hours of the morning to go for a run, both on the ground and across the rooftops. She wasn’t about to let herself get out of shape.

Marinette got dressed for her first day of class, slipping on the outfit that Chloe had picked out for her, once again gifting her and Sabrina with new clothing for the first day of school. Unlike the year before, Marinette’s style no longer shifted towards dark clothing, instead taking on a brighter and more colourful and inviting colour scheme, finding that it helped her fit in more and make her seem kinder and more inviting instead of cold and aloof. Not to mention she no longer had a tactical advantage with wearing darker colours that she needed to concern herself with.

This year Chloe had gotten her a pastel pink chiffon floor length skirt, something Marinette would never have picked for herself, but found herself liking it. It was also easy to hide her throwing daggers beneath the flowing skirt. She wore a whtie tank top that she did some white on white embroidery on since the outfit had arrived a couple of days before school started and she wanted to experiment with something new. She wore a light grey fisherman rib knitted sweater over it, which had actually been a hand knitted gift from Sabrina for her birthday. Judging by the texture of the yarn it was cashmere, and had likely been bought by Chloe. She had slept with curlers in her hair, leaving her hair in a nice wave before she pulled it back into one of her favourite styles, a messy bun. It hid the true length of her hair well and kept it out of her face while she worked, the messy nature making her seem more like a busy youth.

After a quick breakfast Marinette heads off to school, a box of Macarons from her dad for her to share with her classmates. She had convinced Chloe that they could just meet at school this year instead of having the blond pick her up in a limo, which meant she had to follow things like crosswalk lights, the one leading from her parents bakery to the school having just turned red when Marinette arrived. Sighing, she moved into a more relaxed position to wait only to see an old man half was across the street and a car speeding towards him.

Not about to let an old man be squished, it would put a bad spin on her day and she didn’t feel like dealing with the police, Marinette rushed forward and grabbed the man by the arm. A slight spark went through her and she glanced down spotting a bracelet on a leather string with a turtle in the middle. The spark that had come from the man could have been static shock but Marinette had trained long and hard enough to know what it felt to make contact with someone else who had trained to be a Guardian. This was the man who had all but destroyed the Order of Guardians, running off with the First Miracle Box and apparently wielding the Turtle Miraculous.

Marinette dropped her pastry box, making it appear as if she had stumbled a bit as the two of them made it safely back onto the sidewalk, reaching into her pocket to grab a tiny tracker that would look to the untrained eye to be a small pebble and slipped it into the man's pocket. She couldn’t let on that she had sense anything different about him but she wasn’t about to let him get away.

Marinette picked her dessert box off the ground hoping she hadn’t destroyed too many of the delicate macarons with that little trick before offering the man one out of politeness before crossing the street with a quick ‘stay safe’. If she found out where the man worked, most Guardians were to be self employed, she could ‘stumble’ upon it and try to gain the man's trust, at least until she found where the First Miracle Box was and could claim it, though it would be better if she could manipulate the old man into giving it to her since it would create a stronger bond right off the bat. She would stop at nothing to get the box however, even if it meant taking years to create a strong enough bond with the box and the Kwami’s inside. After all, the only reason the Guardians had not tried to contact her or bring her back to the Temple was because of their belief that unseen powers brought things to be and that one of those unseen powers was one of the reasons Marinette reunited with her parents and thus there must be a reason that she had to stay in Paris. Reclaiming the First Miracle Box and becoming Grand Guardian was her destiny and now she knew for a fact that it was in Paris, within miles of her, and she’d rather die than let it slip through her fingers then fail her destiny.

Heading over to the school, Marinette pushed thoughts of the First Miracle Box from her mind, instead focusing on being just Marinette, the daughter of two bakers. She smiled as she climbed the school steps instantly spotting Chloe standing just inside the entrance.

“I thought I’d have to make my way to our classroom before I found you,” she told the heiress. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you obvious,” Chloe said, lying to her. Marinette decided not to push it at the moment, mainly because the bell for them to head to class sounded, and she had all over lunch to interrogate her friend.

The world was apparently against her finding out what Chloe was lying to her for because after their first class during their study period, a massive crash sounded around the school. The surveillance showed one of her classmates, Ivan, transformed into a stone being. Marinette could have waved off the sudden attack as one of a pissed off Meta the way a lot of her schoolmates were doing, but with the meeting between her and the shameful Grand Guardian trainee had her thinking it was all too much of a coincidence for it not to all be Miraculous related.

Marinette made her way home and up to her room to formulate a plan on how she could be involved without bringing unwanted attention to herself but the second she stepped into her room she sensed something off. A quick glance around the room showed that someone had been up there and had left a black box on her desk. Someone who wasn’t her parents since they’d be too busy with the bakery to step out.

Slowly approaching the box, Marinette started going over all the possibilities of what the box could be when she saw a familiar symbol, one she had seen all her life.

The symbol of the Order of Guardians

A miraculous box was sitting on her desk.

Stepping forward she picked up the box and opened it, closing her eyes so as not to be blinded by the bright light that it omitted as the Kwami inside formed its physical body.

She opened her eyes and had to blink, not quite believing what she was seeing.

“Hello Marinette, you are the only one who can stop Stoneheart and save Ivan and the rest of Paris,” The Kwami, the Scarab Kwami, said looking up at her with wide eyes.

She was chosen to be the next Scarab wielder.

Well shit, she hadn’t been this put off by a surprise revelation since she’d woken from the coma to find her birth parents waiting for her. Who knew that this was how the day was going to go.

Next

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#Miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #fanfiction #ml fanfiction #fanfic #story #miraculous ladybug fanfic #ml fanfic #Guardian of Light #Marinette #Guardian Marinette #Chloe #Adrien #Batman crossover #Maribat #Daminette #dc crossover #miraculous ladybug crossover #miraculous ladybug and dc comcis #miraculous ladybug and batman comics #Temple of Light #League of Shadows #dark past

[queenofanime]

The Girl in White

(Haikyuu x reader)

Part 1

It is only at that moment, Kenma realizes he is holding a gold watch in his hand. At the back of the watch was a small phrase engraved:

To the angel with no wings

My love, my life,

Martha

It was clear that the watch was expensive but most of all it seemed like a valuable treasure. A treasure that wasn't his. He didn't take it on purpose, it just happened, probably when he bumped into the table out of panic. But Kenma had to admit it was a beautiful object. The watch must have had a great number of straps over the years, yet the machine itself was perfection in cogs, gold, and glass. Part of him wanted to return it, but the idea of going back to that hunted place and face whoever had that scary husky voice was a no-no. Without showing it to any of the other players, Kenma slid the watch into his pocket.

                                                          ****

Morning came and it was time for both teams to start packing. Unfortunately for Kenma, his conscience didn't seem to want him to rest. The watch was beginning to grow heavier with every passing minute and the guilt was beginning to take over the poor boy.    

"Oi Kenma! What's this?"

Kenma's yellow eyes widen in fear when he saw non-other than Kuroo holding the said treasure.

"Oh, that looks expensive!" Taketora yelled across the room causing more unwanted attention to the duo.

"It's nothing. Give it back!" spat Kenma. Annoyance lingering in his voice. However, Kuroo wasn't satisfied with the answer, and he knew exactly how to push his friend's buttons.

"Oh? Then please share with everyone who is Martha? 'Cause I'm daying to know... Is it a beautiful girl at school? A crush?"

As soon as those words left Kuroo's lips, Kenma went from annoyed to embarrassed. Not only because his so-called friend was hinting at the idea of romance, but because he didn't know how to get out of this mess. By now everyone was looking at him; 'what was he suppose to say?' On top of that, how was he going to explain the fact he didn't even know who Martha was, let alone know if she was an angel with no wings or not.

"Uhm... uh" No constructed words could form. Kenma's cat-like orbs roamed the room trying to find an exit. With no way out of the awkward situation, he finally gave up. Ashamed of what he was going to say next, he let his vision fall to the floor. "I-I kinda... s-tole it." Kuroo's eyes narrowed at the confession, but before he could say how extremely disappointed he was, Hinata intervened. "Does it belong to the owner of the house?"

Now that comment perked the interest of everyone, including the less interested.

"House? What house?" asked Kageyama, trying to hide his curiosity poorly.

At that moment, Hinata realized the horrible mistake he had committed. Nervously laughing, he tried to brush off the question of "The King". But Kageyama's blue eyes were piercing the poor ginger boy's soul. And it didn't help to have Daichi on father-mode either.

"Well... uh funny thing" studdered Hinata while fidgeting with his hands. "Yesterday we kind of took a shortcut and um got kind of lost and..." His brown eyes traced Kenma's figure, "and it was late and we just happen to find a-a house, so we k-kind of ent-entered it."

"You morons trespassed?" ask nonother than Tsukishima, who by now was quite attentive to the conversation.

With that, Kenma lost all hope that he could get away from the awkward situation and accepted his fate.

As expected, both boys got a punishment and were chastised by their respective captains. And of course, the only reasonable conclusion ended up being returning the stolen treasure.

                                                  ****

To say, both teams were spooked out by the setting, was an understatement. Everyone was freaking out. Hinata and Kenma pleaded to not go back there alone, and with good reason. Yet no one listened because, no one was buying that the place was creepy, in fact, some even told them they were being scary-cats, but now...

Now all the boys were staring at the abandoned playground, at the rusty swings that moved with the wind, creating an infernal screech. And there it was again, that feeling of being watched, observed every action, every move. For some reason, whenever Hinata watched the abandoned structure, he remembered the feeling of childhood. The laughter of children. But that was here nor there.

"H-how about w-we turn b-back" suggested Asahi. Although his physical features made him look like a grown-ass delinquent, Asahi Azumane was a baby at heart. And probably, the most scared. "I-I mean, Kenma c-could keep the w-watch, r-right?"

A strict stare from Daichi made him shut up, though. Yet, Karasuno's ace wasn't wrong, the place was unsettling and everyone seemed to be tense, hell, even Kuroo and himself looked doubtful, but as a captain, he had to move forward. If Hinata made it out in one piece, so could he.

After some encouraging words from Nishinoya, the boys decided to walk through the forest. The setting was quite different than the other night. The sun was up and one could see the peaceful clearings. The smell of wildlife was quite pungent, and the big, tall trees might as well be magical creatures like Titans and Giant Trolls. A small stream could be seen in the distance. Kenma wonder why he didn't hear the water before, maybe he was too tired and concentrated on the cat.

Finally, after one and a half-hour later, all males made it to another small gate. There were dirt roads leading to it as well, which indicated that there were other routes one could take. The gate had the same architectural structure as the first one and lead to a well-maintained garden. Hinata and Kenma recognized it immediately. At the back, the white antique house stood proudly. House was a little underrated since it was rather a massive white mansion, that had colossal glass windows, and no Japanese influence at all.  At the center of the garden, a fountain made of stone and moss stood. A mighty oak was near too, making the place look astonishing. However, all magical trance disappeared when they heard someone approaching.

A girl.

Dressed in a white silky summer dress. It had a touch of vintage, however, it was quite transparent, highlighting all of her curves. She couldn't have been older than 17, maybe younger. Her skin was smooth and shiny, the rays of sunshine reflected in her hair, while the soft spring breeze created movement all around her. Her eyes sparkled. She was barefoot as well. Now that, was an angel with no wings.

"Who are you?" Her voice didn't match at all with her sweet looks. It was a stern commandant voice, full of confidence. At this, all the boys flinched.

Moving slowly through the group, Kenma cowardly stood in front of her.

"I um I'm wan-wanted to um..." What was he supposed to say? 'I'm the one who stole your watch' Of course not. Kenma wasn't used to talking with girls, let alone one that was stunningly gorgeous.

"I'm, I'm Kenma K-Kozume and I uh-Yes the watch thief." The girl bluntly interrupted, which caused some snorts from Tsukishima and Tanaka.

Kenma could feel the heat spreading through his face out of embarrassment. This was clearly an unwanted situation.

"You know, watch-thief Kenma, your manners aren't great either. You should see the other person's eyes when talking to them." She continued. Although her words were harsh, she wasn't using a mockery-childish tone, no, she was just pointing out the truth without sugarcoating it. For some reason, Kenma always seems to have difficulty seeing other people's eyes and faces. He didn't really know how to interact with others, however, before he could react, a soft hand spread to his chin and lifted his gaze. The girl wasn't laughing or being mean, she was serious, observing, taking in every feature.

"Well?" She repeated. She acted very maturely for her age, something that didn't go unnoticed by the others, especially the third-year students.

He didn't know why, but instead of feeling petrified, Kenma felt a wave of confidence forming.

"I'm Kenma Kozume and I wanted to return the gold watch." His hand stretched towards the girl and handed her the object. "I'm sorry for taking it, it was an accident."

The girl observed the watch for a long time, examining it, she then, lifted her gaze towards the boy, giving it back.

"The watch belongs to Germán. You took it from him, you give it back to him."

"Germán?" The obviously wasn't a Japanese name, no it was Spanish and quite difficult to pronounce.

"My father." She answered.

"And who are you?" Asked a voice from behind. It was Kuroo, who until now, was just observing the situation unfold.

"His daughter." She responded. Unfazed by the harshness in his tone

"That's not what I meant."

"I'm well aware of what you meant." The same monotone voice responded.

Ignoring Kuroo's irk forehead mark, her gaze fell on Kenma once again. "My father is inside. You will personally return the watch to him."

Not waiting for anyone to speak, she headed inside the garden and made her way to the old mansion. Everyone else just kind of followed.

                                                    ****

The inside of the house was just as cozy as Hinata remembered it. The Siamese cat sat on a sofa, looking at the new strangers coming in with lazy eyes.

"Um, may I ask what's the name of the cat?" The girl turned around to spot the boy who had asked the question. He was of average height, green-ish hair color, and his skin was full of freckles.

Not paying too much attention, she replied. "That's Violet. There's also a brown one named Kafka, and we have a Great Dane named Sargent."  At her comment, Hinata got extremely excited. "Whoa! You have so many pets! Can I see the dog!?" The girl was taken aback by the boy's energy but quickly composed herself. "If he passes through here you can. I'm going to get my father, so don't touch anything." Giving one last look to all the males, she headed to a carved wooden door, "Oh, and don't steal anything."

Her comment left a bittersweet taste in Kenma's mouth.

"Well, this place is something." Admitted Kageyama, who was observing a carved decorated music box with a porcelain ballerina on top. No one disagreed. The place seemed to be taken out of a fairy tale. Every ornament seemed to tell a story. The decoration of the living room defied all time and space as if it had frozen in the Victorian European movement. For a second, every player forgot they were still in Japan.

Soon, the door opened, revealing the mysterious girl and her father, Germán.  

He was a tall, thin man. His hair was brown but also grey, showing age. Even though he had wrinkles in his forehead and eyes, he clearly was a handsome man in his time. His eyes were icy-blue but there was a warmth to it. On top of that, he was well dressed.

Both teams bowed, showing respect. However, he waved his hand, "That's not necessary, young ones." His voice was sweeter than the other night. It wasn't as rough, rather calm and soft, almost a whisper.

Kenma approached and told him the situation. Asking forgiveness, for the watch. Hinata too apologized for trespassing.

"Well, I'm glad you returned it. By the way, all of you seem tired, would you like a late breakfast?"

The unexpected question from the man causes a lot of eyes to widen. Even her daughter seemed surprised.

"Oh, we couldn't accept your kindness after everything that has happened" Explained Daichi, which everyone nodded in agreement, yet, as soon as those words left his mouth, a couple of stomachs growled in hunger, including his. This caused the young girl to laugh. It was the first time they heard her laugh, and it was music to the ears. Although, everyone got flustered by the bad timing.

The man just smiled kindly.

"Cricket, would you be so kind to put out plates and heat water for our guests?" She only nodded and headed to the kitchen while he made all the boys pass to the dining room.

                                                      ****

The table was long enough for everyone, which was kind of impressive. At the end of the room, hanging from the wall was a beautiful vivid painting of a woman. She resembled the girl but in adult form.

The table was full of fruit, and bread, and eggs, and coffee, and chocolate milk. The volleyball players ate like there was no tomorrow.

At first, no one dared to say a word, but with time, Hinata and Nishinoya lighten the mood. And soon, Germán was talking to all the boys like they were his own sons. Kenma noticed a pair of orbs looking directly at him. The girl was clearly deep in thought, journeying through some creative stream only she could sense. He also took in her features. She was very well built and good-looking yet, there was something captivating about her. A special quality that could put anyone in a trance.

Unfortunately, breakfast was cut short when the older man started coughing. Immediately the girl stood up and helped her father head to his room. It was clear he was sick, however, no one mentioned it. Sugawara and Morisuke offered to help but were shut down by the death glare of the young girl. Helping her father she left the room. When she returned, the dishes were picked up. Apologizing in a neutral tone, the girl offered everyone to head to the door.

The awkward silence returned once more, yet she paid no mind to it. By now, everyone was at the iron gate, ready to part.

"Why did you entered our house yesterday?" She finally spoke. Everyone turned their heads to Kenma, then to Hinata, then to the girl, then back to Kenma.

"I don't know," responded Nekoma's setter. "Maybe because of the mystery."

The girl smiled energetically for the first time.

"So, you like mysteries?"  

Kenma only nodded.

"You have something to do tomorrow?" her question was out of the blue, unpredictable. Before Kenma could respond, she continued. "Tomorrow, here, at 9;00 am."

And with that, she turned around and left running.

"Wait!" cried Hinata who wasn't even part of the conversation.

The girl stopped in her tracks and turned around.

"You haven't told us your name!"

"Y/n!"

[cagestark]

-Defender//4-

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Warnings: tony recounts trauma that is very reminiscent of civil war, but just a reminder that this is an Alternate Universe where there are differences between this story and canon.

Read here on AO3.

-

Training goes well.

Peter meets Black Widow (and she is even more beautiful in person, so beautiful that it’s eerie). She offers him her hand and he shakes it, firm and polite. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve staring at their hands as they clasp together, but if he’s expecting Peter to use his strength on an unenhanced human—not to mention one who has done nothing wrong—he’s got another thing coming.

Just to rub it in, Peter puts on his best respectful veneer when he says: “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Ma’am! Do you hear that, Steve?” The man mutters an I hear it under his breath. “Call me Natasha. They’re calling you Spider-Man, you know that? I guess that makes us of a similar Kingdom and Class.”

Peter feels warmth in his gut, the pleased, tingly feeling of belonging. He has a name like Black Widow or Hawkeye or Iron Man. Fuck. May would tease him without end for that, in between her proud smiles and glistening eyes. “That’s so cool,” Peter says, sounding as star-struck as he feels. “We’re like, the spider subdivision of the Avengers or something. Ancestral Arachnids.”

“Natasha is going to be overseeing your training,” Steve says. He shows no signs of Peter’s unpleasantness earlier in the week, but something about the way those blue eyes track his every movement keeps Peter from letting the man stand at his unprotected back. “She’s one of the best in the field when it comes to hand to hand combat. You more than likely already have the instincts you need if you’re enhanced, so she’s just going to help you learn how to listen to those instincts and hone them, plus run you through our procedures in the field. Sound good?”

It does sound good.

“Do you want to spar, Captain?” Peter asks while Natasha changes into work-out clothes. This time, the other man doesn’t fall for his wide, guileless eyes and the gentle, pubescent sounding voice. He assesses Peter with flat, knowing eyes.

Steve shakes his head. “Busy today, kid. Some other time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Peter promises, flexing the fingers he’d used to crush the other man’s hand. He cracks the joints swiftly.

Natasha isn’t enhanced, so he is careful not to hurt her while they spar, but her depth of knowledge seems endless. She knows techniques from martial arts subdivisions that Peter can’t even pronounce, and Peter watches her every move, soaking up the knowledge like a sponge. He loves learning. He loves being useful. He loves the ache in his body after a workout. He loves having a purpose.

“How often does Mr. Stark train?” Peter asks during a water break.

Hawkeye (Clint, as he introduces himself) and Falcon (Sam) are wrapping their knuckles by the water cooler and overhear him ask. Clint snorts. “Tony? He doesn’t. At least, not with us.”

“He comes to the mandatory team exercises every other week. We’d kick him out of those, too, except that it’d be dangerous for us in the field,” Sam admits. “You’ll find that Tony is kind of like the third wheel on our dates with the bad guys, Pete. He tags along or shows up even when we ask him not to. Sometimes he comes in handy, sometimes he gets in the way.”

“But he pays for the tech and the Tower, so try not to piss him off or we’ll all end up out on the streets,” Clint adds. He and Sam touch knuckles.

Peter says nothing—stunned. He might have guessed that with a team leader like Steve, the rest of the team would have the same viewpoints but it’s still…disappointing. The Avengers were his heroes in his teen years, but they’re turning out to just be normal people. Shitty ones, at that. Peter feels another part of his illusioned childhood slip through his fingers.

He trashes it, along with his empty water cup.

“Peter?” Natasha asks. He can tell by the look on her face that she senses his tense mood, her eyes flickering between him and the two older men preparing to spar behind him. “You want to run through things one more time before we call it quits for today?”

“Actually, I’m feeling a little tense in my shoulders,” Peter lies, ignoring the guilt that gnaws at his stomach. He rubs at one trap for effect. “I think I’m going to go stretch and shower and rest—don’t want to pull a muscle, you know.”

“Right,” she says. “Well let me know if you aren’t feeling up to doing more in the morning. You have weeks before you’ll be cleared for fieldwork, so there’s no rush. Here, give me your Starkphone and I’ll program my number into it.”

“I don’t have a Starkphone,” Peter says. He’s never even had a smartphone, much less a STARKphone, the specs of which can’t be compared to anything Apple and Samsung are cooking up in their wildest dreams. They aren’t even mass produced considering their at-cost price is three grand. Peter has two dollars in change in the pocket of his backpack, but that’s it (and it’s mostly pennies). “But if you just tell it to me, I can memorize your number and put it in my track phone when I get upstairs.”

Natasha’s brows draw together. “Tony must be slacking if you don’t have one. He gives every new Avenger the latest model to make sure we’re up to date on the newest tech and able to communicate efficiently—something about how iPhones are the equivalent of chiseling on stone or sending smoke signals. I’ll talk to Tony for you.”

“Mr. Stark doesn’t need to make me a phone,” Peter insists. “I have one upstairs that works just fine. Maybe when I start getting paid, I can save up and get one of my own—”

“You don’t have to save up to get Stark tech,” she says, smiling. “It’s free. That’s the perk of having Tony on the team.”

The perk, she says, like Tony’s money is the only thing he has going for him.

“I don’t want it,” Peter says. He puts space between them, jabbing the button for the elevator with more force than necessary. When the doors open to finally take him away from this gym with these people, it feels like he’s watching the pearly gates open for the way relief fills him. “But thanks anyway. I guess I should be thanking Mr. Stark, though, right?”

The doors close on her confused face.

Thirty hours later, Peter is climbing the walls. Figuratively, this time. He feels even less inclined to leave his room now than he had before. He’s already become something of a nocturnal recluse, exiting the kitchen only in the dead of night when he can hear the sounds of the other Avengers sleeping around him. He’s met some of the others who come and go and some who live on the floor: Thor, Wanda, Dr. Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner. There are hushed mentions of another member, Bucky, but Peter never sees him. What hurts most is Tony’s glaring absence. Ever since Peter got the man off, he hasn’t seen a trace of him. Anxiety blooms in his chest like water expanding upon freezing, icy barbs that make it hard to take a full breath. What if Tony is mad at him? What if Peter misinterpreted things between them? What if the dynamic has changed, and now he’s nothing to Mr. Stark but yesterday’s news?

It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened to him.

“Peter?” the disembodied voice with the exaggerated Irish lilt makes him jump.

He clears his throat, out of sorts as it is from disuse. “Yes, Ms. FRIDAY?”

“It’s Mr. Stark, Peter. He wants to know if you’re available to meet him in the lab.”

Peter jams his feet into his shoes without bothering to put on socks.  

Tony blinks in surprise at how quickly Peter arrives through the glass door of his lab, eyes scanning up and down Peter’s figure before settling on his face and giving a warm smile. Peter takes the time to assess the older man as well (fair is fair!). Tony looks exhausted, eyes shadowed, hair a mess. He’s wearing the same clothes he was the last time Peter saw him, but it’s been so many days, surely he’s just rewashed and decided to wear the clothes again—right?

It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since Peter moved rooms, since the night he ground on the man’s lap until Mr. Stark came in his pants. Just the memory of it (which Peter has revisited several times in his bed, in his shower) makes him flush with phantom arousal. At least he can blame that on the speed he used to get here.

Maybe it should be awkward, but it isn’t. Not on Peter’s end, at least.

Tony points to the lab table closest to the door where a large box rests. “I am bearing a gift for you, spider-boy.”

“Spider-Man,” Peter amends, already smiling. The difference is amazing and something he didn’t necessarily notice until he saw the man again, until the apathetic listlessness was washed from his skin leaving him feeling refreshed and exuberant. Peter missed him. He tip-toes towards the table, fingers hesitating above the ominous box. “You didn’t need to get me anything, Mr. Stark.”

“I didn’t—I made you something. Big difference. Go ahead, open it.”

With trepidation, Peter opens the box. There is a large mass of dark fabric inside and a smaller, sleek box sitting on top.

“Ta-Da!” Tony says. “Two gifts! I lied. I’m such a liar—”

Tony sways where he stands, like he’s suddenly lost his balance. Peter nearly upends a lab table between them trying to get to the man, watching as he white knuckles the nearest surface to ease himself down into the chair he’d abandoned. The heart in his chest pounds, skipping beats, a horror movie soundtrack that Peter is privy to, but Tony just waves the younger man’s concern away. “Gifts. Don’t worry about me, the look on your face will heal me of all my ailments, clear my skin, water my crops, all the things the kids say these days.”

“Your skin is already clear,” Peter mutters, frowning as he returns to the box and glances in the open lid. His stomach twists as he removes the smaller box. When he opens it, there is the sleekest, thinnest phone starring back at him, nestled in plastic that hugs its smooth curves, midnight blue. When he gingerly takes it from the box and turns it over, he sees the Stark Industries logo on the back and all the breath gets trapped in his lungs. “Mr. Stark—I—”

“I’m going to be honest, your expression isn’t healing me right now. What’s the matter kid? You wanted a different color?”

“I didn’t want one at all—” The look on Tony’s face is some mix between shock and disappointment. “No! I just meant, I mean, of course I want one Mr. Stark, these are the best phones in the world, I’m not just saying that, but I didn’t want you to go through the trouble. I know that these aren’t mass produced.”

“They aren’t,” Tony admits. “I made that one personally last night. Just for you, Pete. One of a kind. Like its owner.”

Peter’s face flushes. “I’ll save up my money and pay you back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry about it. Get out the next present. Come on, I want you to put it on and make sure it fits.”

Somehow Peter is even more nervous—did Tony buy him clothes? He gets an image in his head of him walking around the penthouse wearing one of Tony’s band-shirts. Surely it would swim on Peter’s thin, petite frame. If he wore nothing underneath it, it’d be perfect access for Tony to come up behind him while Peter is at the counter in the kitchen (making coffee, cooking pop-tarts, who cares), ruck up the hem, and grind his erection against Peter’s bare ass.

Trying to slow his breathing, Peter hopes that his thoughts aren’t written clear as day on his face. When he pulls it from the box, he finds himself holding a jumpsuit made of a material that feels unlike anything he’s touched before: hard like metal, but flexible like fabric. It’s of a blue so dark that it’s nearly black. To match his phone maybe, he thinks. “What is this?” Peter asks. “Pajamas?”

“I’m sorry—pajamas? Jesus, kid, you’re, fuck. You’re really busting my balls today. It’s your suit! Well, the prototype. My struggles right now are just finding a material that’s strong enough to deflect bullets but flexible enough for you to do your creepy-crawly gimmick. Go and try it on, I want you to tell me if it fits.”

Peter sheds his shirt right away only to catch the stricken look on Tony’s face. “I meant go in the bathroom and change, Chippendale, but if—yeah, okay, that works, I’ll just—” he turns around to face the opposite direction. Peter rolls his eyes. His abs might be the one thing he has going for him, and Mr. Stark refuses to look at them now. Great.

He strips to his boxers and begins to tug on the suit, but a problem announces itself immediately. “Mr. Stark, this doesn’t have holes for my hands and feet. I need skin to surface contact for the scopulae to work.”

Tony remains looking resolutely away. “Not anymore. Thanks to all the in-depth scans FRIDAY completed last time you were here, I’ve found a way to recreate your scopulae mechanically. The sensors in the fingers and feet of your suit (and it should fit like a glove, Peter) will activate only when you activate your spider-touch. The suit is just expensive interfacing that will keep you from getting your fingers sawn off or developing frost bite. Are you in it yet? Come on, kid, the anticipation is killing me.”

Peter flexes around to zip himself up and yeah, the suit fits like a glove. The tightest glove he’s ever worn. One that was made for the contours of his body, the flatness of his abs, the bulge of his biceps. “It’s on. You can look.”

Tony spins around on the stool. He eyes Peter from the collar down, and the younger man grows flush, feeling that gaze on him as easily as he’d feel fingers reaching out to caress him. But when Tony fires off a series of technical questions about the fit, it becomes clear that he isn’t checking Peter out. He’s checking out the suit. Which kind of makes Peter even more crazy about him, if such a thing is possible.

“I’ve already tested the things it can and can’t do: it can’t be cut, it can’t be pierced or penetrated. Can’t be burned, though some hazardous materials are corrosive enough to it with long term exposure, so try not to take any lengthy dips in inconveniently placed vats of acids. But I have not yet seen what you can do in it. Let’s take it for a test run, huh kid?”

Tony takes him to the training room, which is empty on a Sunday. The ceilings are high—very high, and Peter scales them with ease. It feels strange at first, not feeling his bare skin on the plaster of the walls and the textured ceiling, but the suit fits so close to him that it’s easy to forget it isn’t his skin. There isn’t any difference in grip that Peter can detect, but he tests it anyway, hanging precariously by one hand.

“Oh no, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, placing the back of his free hand against his forehead like a true damsel in distress. He lets his legs kick a little in the air. “Please, save me!”

“I’m watching you use four fingers and a thumb to stick to a glass window twenty feet off the ground,” Tony calls. “I don’t think you need any saving. Still—this is not an invitation to be scaling my building, understand?”

“I don’t know, it feels pretty inviting to me!”

“Peter Parker—no death-defying circus acts, do you hear me?”

“No promises!”

Tony shakes his head. Peter thinks that he maybe looks a little fond. But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Dinner plans?” Tony asks as they reenter the lab. He turns away so Peter can strip off the suit, though the younger man rolls his eyes. “I was thinking about ordering in like I always do. I’m feeling like soup though, need something light on my stomach. FRI, baby, what do you recommend?”

“After forty hours of no other sustenance, I’d not recommend anything spicy, high in fiber, or fried.”

“So you’d not recommend anything good, I get it—"

“Forty hours?” Peter asks, nearly tangling himself up in his haste to pull his shirt on over his head. He can’t see Tony’s expression, but his shoulders are hunched, one elbow resting on the table. Even from behind, he looks exhausted. “You can’t do that, Mr. Stark. You need to take breaks.”

“This is my break, kid. FRI, order me some vegetable soup from that vegan place down the street, and get Peter—Pete, what do you want? Does soup sound okay? What am I kidding, you’re enhanced, you need more than that. FRIDAY, find Peter something to eat that’s good for him, I don’t know, I’m hardly role-model material.”

“Soup is fine, Ms. FRIDAY,” Peter insists before the AI can purchase him an entire barbecued pig or something equally ridiculous. If she is anything like her creator, she must have a tendency to go overboard. Out to sea. Past the line of the horizon. “I don’t need anything special. Just a lot of it, if that’s okay.”

They take the soup up in Tony’s penthouse, and it’s the happiest Peter’s felt since being moved down to the Avengers’ communal floor. It feels like nothing has changed when Tony kicks up his socked feet onto the coffee table, takes the soup bowl into his hands and drinks the broth from it. He leaves all the carrots in the bottom, and it should be dorky that Peter finds something like that so fucking endearing.

“How’s it been, living with other superheroes?” Tony asks him, sipping spring water. “Everything you dreamed it would be?”

Peter shrugs, swirling his spoon around his own bowl.

“Not everything you dreamed?” Tony amends.

“I don’t want to badmouth my teammates,” Peter mutters. “We just obviously have different opinions about some important things. But that’s normal right? You put a half dozen people in the same apartment and of course they aren’t always going to agree.”

Tony hums. “You hate how Barton puts the coffee grinds right into the garbage disposal, don’t you? I’ve told him time and time again—”

Peter snorts. “No, that’s not it. It’s…well. It’s you.”

Tony frowns now. His whole demeaner changes, shrinks. With forced humor, he asks: “Me? What’d I do this time?”

“Nothing,” Peter hurries to assure. His face flushes, he wants to press his palms against his burning cheeks, but he doesn’t want to call attention to it. “I guess that’s just where the other Avengers and I disagree. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to cause trouble or to make you feel bad, I just—I wish they treated you better. I wish they saw what an amazing person you are. You know?”

“Maybe you’re just seeing me with rose-tinted glasses, kid,” Tony says, smiling sadly.

“I just see the way you treat me,” Peter admits. “People were always pretending I wasn’t there. When I was sleeping rough, they’d just walk by, turn their heads so we didn’t have to look at each other. So they didn’t have to look at me, I guess. Even working here, not a lot of people pay attention to the Maintenance Department. We’re supposed to be…invisible. You treat me like I’m a human being, though. Like you see me.”

“You are a human being,” says Tony. “And I do see you. I don’t know how anyone could miss you, kid.”

God. Maybe that’s just basic human decency, but Peter hasn’t been shown such a thing in so long that it makes his heart clench, makes his stomach churn and palms go sweaty. He’s filled with such longing that his insides twist. More and more lately, he feels like if he doesn’t have this older man for himself, it might kill him, a desire so keen that it hurts.

“Woah there,” says Tony, reaching out quickly to sit his bowl down on the table. “Don’t give me that look. That look is liable to get us into trouble.”

“What look?” Peter asks, breathily, letting his eyes drag down the man’s body. He licks his lips reflexively—what, they’re dry, okay?

“That look!” Tony says, pointing. “That one right there, the one that says you’re about to eat me whole.”

“Spiders are mostly carnivorous,” Peter says.

Tony laughs, scrubbing at his face with one hand. “Peter, I’m really not known for my self-control—actually I’m sort of famously known for my lack of self-control. Have some mercy on an old man.”

“Who needs self-control,” Peter grumbles. All the things that embarrass him—the kind words, the affectionate touches—sex isn’t really one of them. Peter hasn’t been a virgin in years, and it’s been too long since he had a partner as good as he knows Mr. Stark will be. A partner as incredible as Mr. Stark is. “Besides, I’m twenty years old, I’m not supposed to have good self-control either.”

“How old is that is spider years? Because I think you’ll probably still come out more mature than I am.”

“Spiders aren’t dogs, Mr. Stark—” Peter finds himself inching closer to the man. His skin is so sensitive that he can feel the heat thrown off by Tony’s body. It’s impossible not to know how the older man is affected, not when his heart stutters, his pupils bloom. “You know, I don’t think that soup was enough. Maybe I need something else to fill me up.”

“I’ve heard a lot of dirty talk in my time, kid,” Tony says. Though his voice is unchanged, his breathing is haggard. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“That sounds like permission if I’ve ever heard it,” Peter breathes. In one swift move, he straddles the man’s thigh until it rests between his own, arching his back so that his cock rubs against that muscled leg.

Tony stops breathing. His eyes are half-lidded, the whiskey color turned deeper and darker. He takes several long, slow breaths to calm himself, but Peter doesn’t want that. He wants to see this composed man become the opposite of calm. He slips down off of his perch on the man’s lap and between the parted knees.

“Kid,” Tony says, catching his wrist when it moves towards the man’s belt buckle. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Peter asks.

“I’m exhausted,” the man says, and as he says it, Peter can see it. Between his legs, the man isn’t even hard. He reaches out with one trembling hand and pets at Peter’s hair, traces the shell of his ear with his thumb until Peter shivers, smiling. “I’ve been awake for, FRIDAY—”

“Fifty-one hours, boss.”

Tony points up to the ceiling. “What she said. I don’t think I could get hard even if I tried right now.”

Peter lets his head rest on the man’s thigh, watching carefully to make sure that Tony is okay with the intimacy. Judging by the soft smile, the way his hand comes down to pet at Peter’s curls, Tony’s okay with it. Shuddering at the stimulation on his scalp, Peter wills away the erection between his legs. Now isn’t the time. “Is it normal for you to spend so much time in the lab?”

“Nothing about me is normal, kid.”

“You know what I mean.”

Tony hums. “Sometimes when I have a project deadline, or when something’s caught my interest. After Natasha reminded me that I hadn’t made your phone yet—”

“Natasha?” Peter’s head lifts from the muscular thigh. He grits his teeth, officially adding her to the list of people he can’t trust with Tony’s wellbeing. “I told her not to bother you. It’s not your job to manufacture a phone for me; you’ve already done so much.”

“Just a match on the fire of things I’d do for you, kid,” Tony says. He sounds half asleep, and the sight of the shadows under his eyes reminds Peter that their positions are very backwards. Tony’s eyes blink open when Peter moves away, wide and bloodshot, looking ready to apologize though he’d done nothing wrong.

Peter sits at the opposite end of the couch and pats his lap. “Put your head here.”

“There?” Tony asks, pointing. “What for?”

“Think: why would I put my head in your lap?”

“To suck me off—?”

Peter sucks in breath to laugh and chokes instead, coughing until he’s red in the face. “Save that thought for another time. Just lay down.”

Tony does, gingerly. He lays flat on his back, one of Peter’s thighs cushioning the arch of his neck. It gifts Peter with the most delicious vantage point of the man’s face, even if he looks a little trepidatious. With all the tenderness he has in him, Peter reaches out to stroke the dark hairs off of the man’s forehead. Immediately, Tony’s eyes flutter and he inhales. The billionaire has noble features, even as delicately lined with age as they are. With his nails, Peter softly scratches at the man’s temples where gray hair is sprouting.

“God,” Tony mutters. “That feels good. Never stop.”

“Quit,” Peter says, smiling. “You’re going to make me hard.”

Eyes shut, Tony smiles, baring the prettiest, white teeth. God, there’s nothing about him that Peter would change. Nothing about him that is less than perfect—except for maybe the way he sees himself. How could someone so intelligent be so off base in their self-perception? “Should I talk about something that will turn you off instead?”

“Thanks, but no. You can go to sleep if you want to. You sound really tired.”

“I am really tired,” Tony concedes. His voice is soft and just a little slower than normal. Slurred, drunk with exhaustion. “Shouldn’t sleep though.”

“Why not?”

“I have nightmares,” Tony breathes. Underneath his eyelids, Peter can see his eyes flickering, like he’s watching his nightmares playing out in his mind. The man shivers—honest to God shivers, and Peter’s own senses take notice. Something is upsetting Tony, the goosebumps on his arms say, the anxious twisting of his stomach. Something is scaring him. Help. Protect. “Night terrors, according to FRIDAY. I get violent.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Peter says. Tony’s eyes slit open to stare at him, as if assessing the truth of his statement. “I could snap you in half, remember? I, I could snap Captain America in half, for what it’s worth—”

And the way Tony’s eyes open, shoulders stiffening where they’re pressed against Peter’s thighs, suddenly he knows. He knows that whatever is hurting Mr. Stark goes back to Steve Rogers. Peter strokes through the dark hair, rubbing at one temple with a tender thumb, but Tony’s eyes don’t close again. They stare at the ceiling above them, seeing through it like it isn’t there. Peter feels both hot and cold all over, inside his body and yet far away, watching through the windows of his eyes.

“Did he hurt you?” Peter asks. His mouth feels numb.

“It was my fault,” Tony says, shivering. “There was an altercation, and I made him choose between me or his closest friend. I can’t fault him for not choosing—for choosing Barnes. Some skeletons came out of the closet; I guess Barnes was responsible for my parents’ death—”

“Excuse me?”

“—it’s a long story,” Tony says. His eyes slip shut. “He killed them, but he was brainwashed so, so it doesn’t really count, I guess, does it? That’s what everyone says, what they keep telling me—that he was just as blameless as a gun might have been, he was just a weapon—”

“Tony. Hey. Just take some deep breaths—”

“There was a fight. Me versus them,” Tony continues. Peter’s heart sinks to think of this fragile, unenhanced man having to hold his own against two enhanced super soldiers. The suit had them on more equal footing, but two against one was never fair. Ever. “I was hurt. Very badly.”

Tony takes one of Peter’s hands, spreads open the fingers that melt under his touch. He presses it to the center of his chest and the young man can hardly believe what he’s feeling, isn’t even sure what he’s feeling. There’s a depression in Tony’s chest, centered on his sternum, a hollowness in the shape of a perfect circle. It’s right above his heart.

“What is that?” Peter asks, placing his palm there.

“After my stint in a cave in Afghanistan, I came home with an electromagnetic pacemaker that was keeping me alive and powering the Iron Man suits. During the fight, Steve destroyed it. The suit, it—it felt like a coffin. Hours went by before I was found. I don’t know what was worse: the sound the shield made when it came down on my heart or laying there with the thought of someone peeling open my suit someday and finding my skeleton.”

“Jesus,” Peter mutters.

And they live here. Steve is one floor down from them, probably doing something domestic like making dinner or watching television or doing crunches in his room. How can he show his face here, when he nearly took Tony’s life from him? How can the other Avengers let him? And Barnes—Peter isn’t even prepared to deal with how fucked up Tony having to house his own parents’ murderer is. Because it’s beyond fucked.

Tony rolls onto his side, face toward Peter. It might be arousing under different circumstances, but now it makes Peter curl up over him, removing his palm from the hollow chest and reaching for Tony’s hand. The palm is clammy, but Peter could care less. He squeezes, firm but gentle, and continues to card his fingers through Tony’s hair.

“’m so sorry,” Peter says lowly.

Tony’s eyes are closed, but he still murmurs back, “It’s no big deal. We’ve all made up, now, even Barnes and me. But sometimes—”

“—sometimes you’re still scared.”

Tony brow furrows just the slightest, lines that Peter wants to reach out and smooth away. “No,” he mumbles, more than half asleep now. “No, Stark men don’t get scared…made of iron...”

Peter says nothing. He sits there, stroking the man’s hair until his breathing evens out and his mouth goes slack, and even then Peter can’t bring himself to move. When he speaks, it is quiet, more to himself than to Tony. “You have nothing to be afraid of anymore. I will never let anything happen to you Mr. Stark. You have my word. I will protect you.”

Softly as he can, he maneuvers himself out from underneath the man’s head. There’s an afghan on the back of one armchair (though not the kind Peter’s used to, not the kind his grandmother might have made considering this one feels so soft and rich and new), and he lays it across the man. Oh, if only Vanity Fair and Rolling Stone and Time magazine could see him now, the soft and relaxed expression, the gently parted mouth.

Quiet as a spider mouse, Peter cleans up their mess from dinner so that Tony won’t have to wake up to it. After everything is back where it should be, Peter sits heavily in the armchair by the couch, a silent vigilant.

Tonight, Peter is a dreamcatcher.

When he finally leaves the penthouse and heads back to his own room, the sun is just starting to hint at rising. His own eyes are heavy, and his shoulders bowed with troubles—his own and Tony’s. All of it evaporates when he sees a figure sitting at the window watching the sunrise, a cup of coffee in his hand and the goddamn newspaper beside him, truly a man out of time.

Steve looks at him with all the prim disapproval of an old biddy, as if Peter was walking in with high heels in his hand and no panties on underneath a party dress. They stare at each other in silence for a long moment while the fury builds under Peter’s skin.

“Looking for a fight?” Peter asks, his hands shaking. A normal human might miss it, but Steve doesn’t.

“No,” Steve says. “I’m not going to fight you, Peter.”

“You will. Soon.”

“Not every disagreement has to come to violence.” The magnanimous attitude makes Peter see red, but then he wonders the sound Captain America’s shield makes when it strikes metal and feels cold all over.

“That’s real rich,” Peter mutters. He lifts a hand and flips him off. Steve’s lips get thin—but there’s no satisfaction in it. Giving Captain America the bird is small beans compared to the trauma Tony experienced at the man’s hands.

Peter doesn’t bother looking back.

In the privacy of his room, Peter takes the time to look through his new Starkphone. He discovers that he already has one contact: Tony. Peter rolls over to press his face flat into the mattress and keep from making any embarrassing noises (or at least to keep from making them loud enough for Steve to hear in the main room). His life has taken the strangest detour, and he hopes that whatever the destination may be that it takes ages to get there. He’s enjoying himself far too much. Take the scenic route, fate. Thanks.

Even though Tony is asleep, Peter can’t help but send a quick message and hope that FRIDAY screens his texts and will keep it from waking the exhausted man.

Thanks again for the phone, Mr. Stark. It’s awesome.

He sits his phone aside on the table, telling himself that he won’t check it until the morning.

Peter wakes with the phone pressed flat between his cheek and the pillow, the vibration of an incoming text making his skull buzz. Squinting at the phone, he sees that it’s a nine in the morning, and Tony has just replied to his message.

We’re very even, kid. x

Falling back to sleep takes forever, but the smile that threatens to split his face is worth it.

#starker #cagewrites #longfic